TVVO DOLLARS PER A
NNUM, PAYABLE IN
ADVANCE.‘
‘OFFICE WEST SIDE THE BRIDGE-O
VER HOY'I‘,’S sToRE._
VOLUME TWENTY THREE.
NORVt"ALK, "WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER16. 1840.
N
.
UMBER FORTY.FOUf{,
THE NORWALK GA ZE'1"1 E
Is Publis/iecl
EVERY WEDNESDAY MORNING.
B Y
.IAI\'IES REED, IR.
TER,\-IS.———"['wo dollars per arziium, payable
-in all cases, qurzr!.crl_t/ in (Z(lt:(m(:c.
To subscribers who live out of tire Carrier’s
district and call at the Office for their papers,
31 50 per year, paid in ail-L'a72cc——otherwise
$2. will be cliarged. Mail snbscri'oers $.52 per
ztiinnm, in advance. No others atteiided to.
To companies of six. or more, receiving their
papers by mail, 31 50, ])(l_7//.lf‘fE in zzrlvaritrc.
Executor’s and Adiriinistrat.or’s Notices, 3
insortioiis, $l—-Ct)!T1tl’liS$l(.‘li€1"S notices, $1
Yearly advertisers. one square, $10 per annum,
pnyablequarterly in advance. The privilege
of yearly advertisersis limited to their own im-
mediate busiiiess—-extra atlvcrtiseiiients will be
ciinrgetl at the usual rates. All other advertise-
mcntsat the rate of$1 per square for 3 insertions,
and 25 cents for each subsequent insertion.
All casual advertisements setit to tltis Office,
must be accompanied by the cash. No ollters
t'J:ill be inserlerl.
JJ@‘.?3’> lF’llE’.llli‘\‘lTlllitlC©-,,
OF ALL KINDS,
viEttTtv EXECUTED AT THE GAZETTE OFFICE.
_ DENTA L IVO" TICE.
- OCT. A. lIlLl., l.lik].“i{ii1iltH‘IlII'![)fli.l‘Oflf|gC
is h__,_ has ,-,-C.-1%,,-~_r_t in his t[)1‘()ii.“S~‘.iUll tlttrtitg‘
I2 tiioiitlis pnsl. in i\’t.=t‘v.‘;ill{, ltogs leave to ill-
foriii tits». public. tliiit. iii-_stil‘I C.Uill‘.’ilti‘1‘t"S;!I few
doors west. of the Bridge, in burrtili s _>tit.:t.-:ii;._.=,-
where l1'-Z‘ will be liztppy at any time. to so» his
f|"l,“nLlS. and answer all their calls in I)».-iit:.;l
Surg-nry.
ll;‘C'U1'l‘Upill)li') teeth iiist.-rtifetl from one to a
full set. Also, teeth ClL't1n:"~Ct_i, sci:-iirittetl. ox-
tyrtctetl, c'.:c., and all those diseases oftlii: teeth
mgignilt-ri to, wliiclt,if sttfl‘ni'cil to continue, are
).rOflllCliV'f3 of so rnucii ii'iis<'.liicf'.
3 .
Ii’efercnccs.——Eiiiery Bisscll, M. D.:).l. D.
§~,,t-"L,-,-m, M. D.: Hon. 1‘iioii'i:ts ll. L tt.ler;:
l:lnn. I3“-"'.l‘-tntiti lsaacs. Ntrrwtilk. Ni‘-l‘it‘-nti-tit
Perry, M. D. Rltlgt,‘fi*¥l(l. R. B. Botsfnrtl. M.
1),; Duct. D. P. Knapp, Dzittbury. Duct.
How.“ R,-,dg,-._r_=, (;,;1i_-hestor, Ct. \-'1tl11'll1l
‘Witter, M. .D. \Villirtn.i1i.iitic,Ct.
Noverriber 1.7.0, 1639.
gs? \VIN'l‘l§R. STRAINED Sf"l~IR.t\l O L
F a spuperior quality, this day rr-.ceived
and for sale cheap by E. 8: \V. E. Bissi:1.L.
April. 1 I840. ‘
T is new little more titan Syears since we dis-
covered front tiie aborigines of our country,
the medical herb from which the l‘vIother’s Re-
lief is iiiaile; since that l.il11C,\VC Iiave contented
ourselves in letting it be its own advertiser; and
we should still adhere to this resolution f'lt‘s1
formed, if we were not coiiipeiledto bclievcthnt
there are persons so unprincipled, and so reckless
of the health and lives of the unsuspecting and
POETRY.
F ram the Knic/rcrbocl.'cr_/or bfcpt.
A SISTERS TIIOUGHTS
OVER. THE GRAVE OF A BI'i()'l‘flER.
BY REV. JOHN PIERPONT.
He slec )5 in eace! .Dcatli’.~: cold cclirisc
- - P I 1 I
I‘ItS radtent eyes liatn 'o‘l1fUUtit’tl oer,
And sianilers's poison, front the lips
Of wnirian. on his heart no more
Distils, and burns it to its cure.
it.
Ilc sleeps in peace l The noble spirit.
'l.‘liat-beanied forth from his living brow,
Proiiipt at the shrine of real merit,
\tVith reverence and with trutii to how
7
Is, by false tongues, tint troubled now.
iii.
He sleeps in peace! And while he sleeps,
He dreams not of earth’s loves or strifes—-
The tears a sister for him weeps;
He knows not that thev’rc not his wife's -
s _ v
Ilis l.ltt)u"l'tl3 are all auothcr life-‘s.
D
iv.
I ho e he knows not that the hand.
P O o n
Once givcii to him, is now anotii.-.tr’s :
I know, the-.flame that once it fanned
Had all gone out. I know, my 'orotlter's
Last thoughts were of my love and motlicr’s.
v.
I hope he knows tint that his child
Hears not, nor knows its l‘zithcr’s name:
Keep its young spirit l1l)tl('ill(’ti,
And worthy of its fatiter’s fsinte.
Oh thou from whom its spirit camel
VI.
Tlzoit lfather ofthc ftitlte-rless l
'l'lie mantle that my brother wore-—
'l‘l’te robe i;fIri:tlt ant: l’.-iitltl't:ittc_-‘..-‘.—
}‘I‘3F';1 for his ittfaiit. in tiiy store:
My I)t'ttll1t:t‘ ha.-th hf: iiutltiitg more!
vii.
'j‘litit itniutii-l lvicti llittl .<t_?€‘l1illl1i throw
it 1:111;-l\' round llll1\._t'l'('ll feill
I)C-'.lt'C‘ l'ir<'.tltt=r I 't is us ‘.\'lllll‘ its srmw;
Ni)(tllP,('i’f1ll tt['1(‘§Jl’llt that tlwr-ll.
Cut: stain what once. ltecnitic thee Wtll.
L.liillb'(lllil(‘1‘ll tliy spirit flvti;
And now thy st-ter and the stars
'_l’hcir tears ttl'tlc\'~' anti pity sh-'-l,
II:-art Iirolten hr--tl.~v-r. oti thy in ill
‘it it it if ‘ii ii iii
THOUGHS TIIAT IEREATIIE
AND \VORDS THAT BURN.
Extract from the ' Life of Com. Perry,’ by
Hon. .7. III. Niles.
Brittle of the T/MLz;zcs.——“'l'iic action, and
anti the movciiicnts wliicit precciled it, rifl'ord
air.-pic ti-stitiiniiy of the jiiilgentciit anti cool
2'vil7‘r;i12T.rlil_7/ of General Ilturisrm; and iii-
tlectl, all the events of the campaign, support
these clizimcteristics; the disasters attenti-
ing it, having in no instance been iniput-able
to iiitn.
“ There are, perhaps, on record, low in-
stances of such cool and Si£'t1(ly intrepidity,
on the part of militia, or a force of this dc-
E(‘.t‘lpllOn, as was displayed on that occasion.
“ Il:it'i'ison and I’t'rry left Detroit in the
Ariel, and arrived at Eric on the 22:1 of Oc-
confid-ing, as to eiideavor in palm ofI'iinder its‘
name, useless, if not bancful compounds. and:
thus not only disappniiiting thejust expectations
of those who use it, but we fear, doing in many.’
cases, mnclt injury.
As we are iiifurined that there are such com-
pot-.tr-ids now offered at various places, anti by
different persons, we would catttion all who are,
interested, to be particular to inqttire for “ Bar-
Lholzc/c’s [Wot/ter’s Relief,” and purchase of no
person exceptthey can show a certificate ofagcn-
cy. signed by G. A. BAR'1‘I10LlCK oz, Co.
As-the subject cannot, with propriety, be on
larger] upon in the form of a newspaper adver-
iiseiiient. permit us to say that all \V'l1(1ilO\’C‘llI('l
genuine article for sale, are also furnished with it
pamphlet for gratttitousdistribution, wherein the
8!ti)_iP.(.'i.» is ninre fully discussed, in which, 1iS
“mozlus operanrli” is demonstrated to be upon
true Piiysiological data, operating upon the sys-
tem only by restoring the dcraiigetl lurictioiis to
their titttnral condition; aliaying the febrile and .
irritable Sytnplttms. thus aiding anti as-istingl
nature in her effort to prepare the systeni for the:
itriporlaut change about to take place. This;
‘pamphlet will be given to all who wtsh,but ttts
intended to be read only by those who are about
to become m'otliers or their Pliysiciatis. -
As we are thus obliged to come before tiic
public to prevent a wicked and reckless iinposi-t
tion. we will take the occasion to say, that ifthc-
increase of the call for the Mnther’s Relief,
whereverktiown, be any gnideto it correct opin-
ion to be formed of the estimation in winch it is
held, we have the satisfaction of believing that
it has been the means of alleviating an infinite
amount of suffering and of saving iiiatty valua»
ble lives. Wiierever it has been used diiringtiie
above period. deep rooted prejudices have given
ziw'av to cantlizl and thankfulexpressionsofgrati-
tude: and :1 wish to extend on their parts. as far
as possible. its benefits. Medical men of high
standing. have Itad the candor to acknowledge
for once, that their prejudices must be abandon-
ed, and have been advocates for its use.
For sale by the following Agents:
E. 85 W’. ii. Bissi-;LL, Norwalk.
Htimiti WPZED, Betiiel.
Em t\IYGA‘t"t.‘. Daniiury.
W31, B, Gi,ovt:it <56 Co., Newtown.
C. H. \VEi3B, \Voodbury.
All those who wish. areiiivitedt.o call at_.-some
of our agents and procure a pamphlet, W1|ll0Ul
charge, G. A. BARTIIOLICK 6: Co.
Dec. 3. 1839.
N0 VELUS HOIVEY OF LIVER-
WORT.
VA LU.-\BLE and efficacioiis rei'ncrly for
coit,9_hs.colds. astnmas, whooping cottelt.
spitting of blood. influenza, and all tlI'It:('lIt)ttS of
the lungs leading to consumption. for sale atNu.
3 I’n’urral|‘s Buildings. by
Aug 4. E 82. W. E. Bissr;LL.
AXES,
OF every description aitd price. and W3?-
ranted—t'or sale by N. ANDIU-zws.
P'ERMACE’.I‘f CANDLES. of a superior
quality, for sale by
"ii-awlt :ind scalping knife !
tober. Here they were t'cceivc(l with every
demonstration of joy and adiiitration; the
(IiSCl1:1l'_ZL‘ of c.:innoii, ilititriinzitioi'ts, &c.——
They were hailed as the delivers of the
fi'oi'ttiers.”
_ "Of the career of Gen. Harrison I need
not speak--the history of the l.Vcst is his
liistot'y. For forty years he has been ‘identi-
fir:-rl with its interest, its perils, and its hopes.
Universally beloved in the walks of peace,
and distinguished by his ability in the coun-
cils of his cotiiitry, he has been yet more il-
lu.slri0ii.sly rlisli7t.,_.g>tI,i.s‘/iizczl in Z/tcjicltl. Dn-
ring the lztte war he was longer in active
sr.-rvice than any other General officer; he
was perhaps oftcncr in action than anv one
of them, and 7202301’ st/.s!ai7it'rI /b ilcferit.
R. III. .T0lm.so:'z, 1831.
“ \Vltrit man lives, ’l('/I036 liearl rmrl soul is
not B/‘ills/1., that cannot sincerely 1‘t‘_i(1lC€ in
the latte V'iCIO]‘it‘S of Perry and H:irrison——
that does not fi;‘t‘l a pride in the 7:.-ilor and
patriotisin ol the hi-roes of the lVi-st, who
frr.-cil rt countrytis large as the oiiipirc of
Alexaritlet‘ the Cx‘t‘i=at from the Indian torna-
(L one lie is (L Krrt-itorto his <:.ottntt'y--he pos-
sesses the spirit ofa ti'iurdcrcr.”
Isaac Hill, 1814.
“ Tlie blessings oftiiousantls of women and
children rescttcd from the scalping knife of
the ruthless Savage of the wilderness, and
from the still more savage Proctor, rest on
Harrison, and his gttllant ai'iiiy.-—~Si7n.mi
S.'2_7/rle7"s, fflcssctgiz to I/2.-2Legz'sla.lzt7'e, Decem-
ber 10, 1840.
Many of you no doubt, entertain the opin-
ions honestly that (L cka//tge in 0 (Ice is es-
scnliallgz ncccssairy to the *tt'e.7f¢i're of t/iis
country/. I Ilt-ink so loo.--—C0l. R. M’. Jaim-
son, July -1, 1840.
“The price of labor is C71.l‘I:7'Cl_?/I00 liig/t.
The laborer in tiic country can afford to
work for eleven pence, and the liarrl 7n0nt'.'_7/
system will bring down wages to that sum.
Wheat will also come. down to sixteen cents
a bushel, and er.-erg thing else in p'rnprn't‘ion.
This is the best Trimfl you can hrive,.'tnd the
only one tliatcan enable. the tI1nnltfi‘lCllJ1‘e1‘-IO
compete with Eitglantl. T/ta Su..b-T.t'eas-u.-
7211,! (lawn t/re bam./rs. and ltring wages and
' , H , ..
emery; thing else (low/i. ——Sc71.a.t0r Tapper...
“Laws are 7.-iolalc/.l ’I£7’llll. i7it.77r/,m'r_7/; mor-
al obligations are scnflird at rmri’ deritltfifl;
/mai:cr_7/ 7.t-‘(bf/i2.S' the streets itritli I/ie lmlil fu.ce
of /t0-ncst_7/ ; yalrmrlerers of the pztlilzc mzrl 0]
. ublic i7istz'i~u.£ions, nbmin Sf!/7)1.]7.'ltlI.3/, and for-
giveness.”—Ken(la.ll’s Adrlrrss.
‘T:
.
CONGRESS WA TER.
FRESII from the Springs for sale by
J. A. “Hana.
E.az \V. E. Bist:EL1..
7-7, will qflect both of tltcsc aIijects—it will-
A .‘3'itl.-“t iii A I‘~.7’S 'l‘.‘=. L ii.
75, l l1c:tt'(,lll1Ct1't tc'aliii;_z oitv ;-;iiotiir'i' what
were the ix-spcctive. i:.-iitses wliicli hriti sent
them to sea. One Ofl.l1L‘.it1 a very gn.-~.«l-l.~tolc-
iiig, \VCll-mf1112“iL3t‘:‘(l,£tt‘1tiin“fillf.'flI'?‘S -vi _‘."l'.2t1LI
man, on i)t‘ll‘l',‘_’ risk».-.l \\’l1£i. ti til :it .i F’:tilHl'
of him, replieil St‘t:lill1t_,{l_\’. ‘ Up to iziy word, it
was it little S531-I2l(')L’t.’ over (1. stone.’ =.‘~i:t fnrt.h« I‘
qtierit.-s were pzit to him at the Illli", but my
0 iriosity was so excited by the youiig sea-
in.‘-.in’s words, as well as by the su-
pcrior cast of his looks and tli-p-oi'tiiit-i'it, that
1 took an early opporttitiit_v to cntt--r into con-
versation with him, and to ask htin the par-
ticulars of his story, He. told me as follows:
‘My father, is rt humble trzidcsniau in a
small town in Dot‘setshire_ near to a sea-port
of some m&gnlll1Ll(‘,fll1Ll Ii1tE‘1‘C I was born and
brought tip. My fzitiit-t‘, whose name is Ro-
ger Alison, trained me to his own business of
tijoiner, and I coiitiiinctl at it till nearly cigli-
teen, when an accident changed my wliolc
prospects in life. The street of our town
w:ts narrow, and directly opposite to our shop
was a lll.Ilt'. inn, kept byri Mr and Mrs VVliit-
roe, whose only tlaii=__tlitcr Sally was ncariy
of my own age. Vt/'c had from an oai‘ly age
entertained ti SIl‘O11’_I ptiitiiilitv for one anoth-
cr——:;nd as Sally itzid all the tit't:tl;r<~*ry of
drawing and serving‘ the beer, it wzis s‘;t:\' great
atntisciriciit :1]: cl tlciigght. at leisure hours. to
assist her in her toil. Though it swat-t nritl
well-forined girl, she was not SlZl’0i1£!', and was
very grate-liil to me. In fact, we wert- d.--
Cl‘tl‘(‘t.i lovers, as fat‘ as ziny body could be so
at our age. But one (l‘t.\-', \\‘l1t't1 Sully ro-
qtiii'cd my ilSSiSl3lll.‘.t', I s’:i.t‘ti=d like it (i-01'
from our own door to run :~...'ross the street,
stiiii‘-tbicd, fell into the mud, on-.l rrnt my
viii. }
In t‘t."t't(‘(2 tltoii sler-post! thrott«_-it the bars 11%
If there be such:
{fl-.’)l.ilC‘S rtitiicr extmsively. A great ni=iiiy
"oplo wt‘-to ll1L’11 in the street, :l1ltl"i1.'):t[ the
ll")l)l'S, and then they set up it gotta-t'zil ltttfllt.
As 1 rose, I saw a little S‘-. ile (‘Vt'i1 on S.i‘l_t_"s
cotititt-uiiiice. Tliero was nrttliitig vi-it-y cru-
el in’ this, as it was plain tii:it I \\':1S not hurt
But an exposure of this kind puts a _\‘t’)t)t'1g‘
fellow sadly to the blush, p21l'il(?Ul.'1l‘_V if lit? is
just at that age when he begins to think him-
seifa titan. lslunit iiiistily lint.-it to our own
iiotisc, and, like a great booby, sat itroo=liiig
Listening one t".\'t_‘t'lil.‘1’._’,‘ to it co ;\'i-.‘!'S1i.lOl1 proved ni-ccss:it‘v. that, for the sake of Sally
ofseaniendut'ing:t pziss-we tit:-t'l"f-‘otrt Ports Whttroc, I wotil-tl go a (llSt‘l1Q'flg‘t‘t'.i..’mttft,
mouth to New York, in the Jul :ii.=:i,0iti 17-t ready to give /tar my iianrl, if
-then .7’ she said at length, in a soft voice.-—-
next morning in some measure a changed
l"~'12it§. resolved to go without delay to Enq-
limd, and also to let the Rt-ririe’s_ know, if it
to-md’ that-
'Sltc love-'l inc still, as I did her. _-\Vl)(*.l')’ I
,stiw i\’l1‘ Reirlc, i tn.ld hint _of in v dt-ti-riniri;i-
ltion about my parents, and he (‘.()-tltfnf-'l1(.it’.(l it,
but it was ,\\'l1t'1l I went to his house, anti
fwas .-igain l-'fl.ttlOl1L‘ with Ruth, that my tri-
gal Ciilllf‘. Istit for some time silent, artditea rs
caniv into my cyt-s. Ruth also was silent,
ttntl hut‘ rye ivnsalso tearful. ' Will you go
S ill I could not find words to tell what 1
was hilly resolved to do. Ionly took her
iitind, and put. it to my lips. ‘ Suppose, \\‘il
itziin,’ said she, ‘you should write to your pa-
rents, and invite them to come to you. Tell
them your prospects are good: and if they
agree to come, my father will give yeti a
vessel to go for them.’ I saw now that the
longer I delayed to tell the dear girl Ilit‘
whole truth, the more painful it would finally
be. ‘ Dear Miss Reade,’ 1 said, ‘you know
btit part of my errand to England. Icame
now; Icame resolved to tell you all ’
Herc lstopped. ‘Oh! William,’ cried Ruth
linrriediy,’ _vou could not have an attachment
to any one before I-caving England ? You
were so young 1' My eyes remained fixed
on the ground. ‘ it I l.l'1t-3!] it is so,’ she con-
tinued, and a new flood of tears from her
eyes threw me into the greatest distress. ‘Tell
inoallfsito said after 21 time; ‘let me be
your confidant. at least.’
I then told her my wiiole history, and en-
d-..-:l by s:i_viiig, ‘ Forgive me, dear Ruth. if
on exnrriititngr my heart I find that one I loved
long ago still occupies the place there.’ ‘ I
h:~.vi- nntliing to forgive. \Villiarti, she rc-
plivd —I had hop-2--d that it was Oti'1t‘1‘\\'lS". for
you 3.1l‘(-!l.i1(' first and only object on tvhoiii
my own affections have been placed. But I
esteerii you the more for your constancy, and t
approve of wliat you propose to do’ Vii-
pnrtnrl, and I promised at her t111.\'iOt1S re-
qui-st, to write intuit-diatcl_v on rcacliing Eng.
ll1l"l:'i.
Not many months :tftcrw.'irds, I found my-
self in I)t')t‘St‘ISl'1i£‘£‘,a1'l(l entering with 21 beat-
ing heart my native town. I had taken a
pOSl.-tZlli‘.iS-“- for the last pirt my journey, and
\\'HS well drt-ssetl, so tbatl was not surprised
and blushing over l.ll(’:1C‘.t’?lllt’11I—'SO inui.-.ii 50,.
that in the heat of my chililisli \'(’X.‘1llOD, lg
packed tip my clothes in a small bitnrllc. and,i
\\'li.llOl1lS'1yl11_l‘11 word to any one. srtt r-fi’tli:it§
night for Poole. 3v ‘tt‘iO1TilI1€flH‘?tllil'l‘f3.l
and finding :1 wsscl onthc point of Si.illlft_Q'i
for the Ncwfoundiiind flSl1Cf_\‘,Off=31'CLi niyst—lf
without wages, anti was ncccpterl. On the’
second morning I was far out ofsigiit of my
native Dorsetsliire.
After seeing the fishing over hit‘ the smi-
son, feeling a disinclin-ztion still to rt-tnrii to
England, I got a ptissnge to M:irhlviie..il, on
the North Ami;-rictiii coast, and l.l1t-‘l‘(' enter-
ed myself in it new vesst-l for :i Levniit voy-
age. Ibcgati to like the life of a searrian.
and (l1]1‘i11_I~Ii1iS second voyn;-e, applied, with
the help of the tnatt.-,to the SIlt(l_\-' rtf11t1‘.'i-_t‘:tIl011,
in which I becaiiie a consitlr-rrible prnficierit.
On rettirnitig to l‘v‘It'1l‘ltl€l'l(‘t1(l from the Levant.
I was paid my \\'Llgt‘S, which I laid out in
liooks to coniplt-to me in tin \'i£__’_‘t1l.iOl'i, and on
clothes, as well as other ncccsstirirs. t\«l_v
third voyage was to the ‘West l.ndics—and
when it was over, I ciitr-rd on others from
the same port, for the space of about three
vetirs in all. Dii‘.‘iti_q this time. the ptfinpl-."
with whom I came in contact about the port
had adopted the notion that l was a lad of
good fiiinily and breeding, which my decent
style of dressing when on shore. and also my
good beliavinr, had probably oiiajitiated. I
was admitted to the acquztiittaiicc of various
respectable families of the place. anti espe-
cially that of Mr Rcatic, an extciisivn an.
rather wcttltlty tt't'itlt-t‘. '
.4
This gentlcriititi he-
came my warm fl‘it‘1')(l, and uiive tilt‘ the
charge. of rigging It new \’f‘SSt'l of his that
was soon to be launciii--ti, and of which I
was to be chicf mate. Mr Rent! hiitl throt-
tliiiigiiters, to whose society 1 ‘.\’2lSI1lS€lfl‘<'l'l_‘,’
admitted. Of these. girls, Miss Ruth Rcritlu-.
was my fnvoi‘itc—but I never pl’t‘Sl1l17(‘tl to
think of her as a tiizitch for one like !}‘.f’-.-—
Yet, when lbrotiglit pl‘t"St,‘niS from toy trip-.~:._
I was sure, almost L1nCO11SCl0t1Sl_\', al-.va_\'s to
make Ruth's the best
One day, Mr Reade said to me, ‘Suppose
I were to make you captain of the new iirigr.
do yoti think, lVilliam,ynn have r~.\'pcriciic:-
enough to nianage ht-1'?’ ‘I ansiicrctl, l
have iinpudence enough to 1'3‘, if you will
trust me with her.’ ' VVell,’ returned be.
‘come to my house this evenirtg——tiic girls
wantto see you, and then we can talk about
it.’ It for the first time struck me, from Mr
Reado’s manner on this occasion,tliat he had
thotiglit of connecting me with his fniriily, as
well as with his vessel. 1 was punctual in
my visit at night, and my suspicion was con
firmed, on finding that the family contrive.-d
to leave me alone for a time with Ruth. I
grew greatly agitated at the timc,atid told
the young lady that I felt suddenly unwell.-
She expressed great concern, and I took my
leave, and wctit home to reflect on my situa-
tion.
A connection with such a faruily as Mr
R-3ade’s was beyond my most Si1l'l,Q'Ulf1(‘ hop:-s
as regarded my St“ll.lC.*t)f'I'1t in life, and the
idea of being loved by the young and bean-
tiful Ruth, was so fiattt-ring, that at first I felt
resolved to take ar_ivaiit:ige of the prize which
fortune scented to hold out to me. But as I
lay that night on my solitairv bed, the ititage
of my poor Sally, my own dear Sally, rost-
npperinost in my mind. The reccollcction
of all our fondness for each other, lrotn our
very cradles, canie fresh upon my memory,
and with her remembraiice canto also that
._of my poor parents, weeping for their only
child, who had cruelly left them, ignorant
hitherto of his late. I rose from tray bed the
.youn<_t man you speak of, I believe,’ said i.
tiiat the landlord oftiie inn did not ktiow inc,
altlioiigh but four years had elapsed since
my dcp:tt‘ttire. It was at the tiiiic of lift‘, too,
wlten 21 _Vt’d1‘ or two makes a grout changi-_
it was with :1 most anxious and trembling
lit~.irt, th-it Iitsked ifRoger‘Alison was alive.
‘Oh yes,’ said the landlord qniclrly——' Do
you bring any news of his son Billy! The
poor old sotil is almost killed with fear and
and anxitty about him.’ ' I have seen the
‘Oh tiicn,’ cried the landlord ‘ I must go in-
-ttziiitly and tell old Roger.’ I cried ‘stop 1’
from a mixture of feelings. but the friendly
lttutllord was off The way between the inn
and m v f:1Il1l‘1"Sl]O1'lSe was sitort. I ran to
the window and gazed in the direction. In
:1 few minutes i saw my good father hurry-
ing towards me as fast as his limbs could car-
ry him. He did not know me. ‘Oh sir, you
have seen my son? lVhere is my poor
boy '2’ * Father? do you not know me?’——-
We sank into each others arms, and had
scarcely parted from the embrace, when my
mother also entered the room. My father
had entreated anti desired her to stay at home
till he brought her the tidings which might
have come, but she could. not remain, and
now made her way into the room, exciziiin-
trig ‘I must see the gentleman who hiis seen
my son.’ I stepped forward, crying ‘ My
dearest mother!’ and she immediately fairi-
ted away.
Soon after, escorted by all the neighbors,
who had g‘:‘l’.il(~‘Tt'(I about the inn door, 1 :1-
criiii «~i'itoi’cd the house where I was born.—
Httlii-rtn not a word had escaped my lips a-
bout S:ill_v,but as soon nsl was alone with my
father and mother, Iasked for their opposite
iicizlihors. My father iinstvered that Mr
tllifl hiirs \Viiitroe li.-id that day gone a little
distance from the town on a visit. Sally
‘.\'."tS not ft’)!-‘l)Ilt‘tt1:‘(l. but there was an expres-
.-intt in the countenance of my pai'i~nt which
viii to nay very heart. They told me no‘
iiiort-, till, being able to bear suspense no
loitger, I asked for Sully. " Oh, VVilliam,”
t-x':.laime(l my mother, “have you then heard
nothing of that poor lost girl .7” “ Lost,” I
crir-d,st:it‘tingto my feet; " lost! how ? when?
wliere? tell me all at once. put me out of
stispciice.” “Bo calm my dear \Viliiam,”
said my father; “ your mother has spoken
raslily. Sit down, and I will tell you the
\vl'tOlc.”
l\ly father now began thus; “From that
hour when you left us, my son, Sally Whit-
roe was inconsolnbie. She took to her
bed, anti refused all tr-ourisiiment, or'at least
would not take enough to sustain life in any
one. I need scarcely say 'vVilliam, that
both her parents and your mother and I had
seen how much you were attached to eachr.
other, and often had we rejoiced in private
over the hope of seeing you united. Her
father and myself had been left with some
little piitrimonies, and we had added to its a-
niouiit ;‘ and the thought that you, our only
children, would enjoy our means when we
were gone, was very pleasing to us. VVe
were not surprised at the eflect'of your de-
parture on Sally. but her condition was ve-
ry alarming to her parents. At length when ‘
our inquiries were so far successful as to re-
veal to its that you had gone from Poole to
the Newfoundland" fisliing, the ,tid-itigs were
coiitinunicated to Sally. She started _from
her bed. ‘Oh tliank God!’ she" said. ‘ Is my
dear \Vi|iiam heard of at lasts’? I’flSSlH't(,i
her that stich was the case, and ti] t you
would surely come back wi'l't'en the fishing
ended, or at least write to us. [How my
heart smote me for my cruelty as my father
said this !] Sally recovered rapidly after this
period, and was soon able to go about, but
there wasa painful degree of anxiety about
her looks and manner. Her parents thought"
they would please her and do her good by giv-
ing up the btisincss“'wiiicli they pt_trsued,arid
which brought her into too much stir and
noise. ' Can you do this without losing mo-
-ney _-anti _ hurting your intercs,ts ?’ was the
good giri’s question to lier father.
can, Sally,’ said ite..‘and I i1_.'1V('.Ofl8ni.l1011g‘l1i.
of it before.’ ‘ Then,’ replied Sully, ‘ it will"
gr.-itify me much; I wish to liavea little
leisure to iniprovc inyself. and acquire a
few accnmplishinents, for I know well that
lViilinin will be improving hiniself wlierc-
ever he is, and I would make mvself worthv
of ltiin—if indeed, he ever crtmobstolt to mti.
“ In triitit, my tit.-at son all the [_JDL‘.—1‘\g‘ll‘l’S
thoughts were still about Von. ' Her part-nis
conimenced the linen-drapery bttsincss, anti
Sally devoted het's---if to the’ cultivation of her
mind, and the acquisition ofmainy little ft.-
male acconiplisliiiieiits. Every day she
came and sat art hour with your mother and
me takling about you, and you oiilv. At
last she hcartl ofa young‘ lady. ofa respect.
able family who was going to France to com-
plete her educ.-ition at a convent. Sully ex-
pressed at strong wish to accompany her,
and Mr, Wliitroe was prevailed upon to a-
gree to her wisii. \Vithin six months after
you left us, site and her companion set out
for Montville on Normandy, and they were
accompanied thither by Mrs. Whitroe and
by your mother, who thought the journey
would do her health good. Saliv’s last pari-
ing words to your mother we-re,-to semi tiic
intelligence of your arrival to her immediate-
ly, or wiiatevcr tidings might come from
_t,'t'tti.
“ Great was otir disappointment. rm; dear
Williaiii, \\‘l1t’1l the captain ofthe New’fotind-
laiitl fishing vessel, on being inquired of, told
its that you had left ltim and gone to Vir-
6 “IL, .
You have entered upon the autumn of your
be1_n‘_.Z. and whatever may have been the pro-
fusion of your spring, nr_the warm tempera-
ment of your summer, there is yet it season
of stillness and solitude which the beneficence
oflieaven affords you,in which you may med-
itate upon the past and prepare yourself f0I".iir:
mighty change which you may soon under-'
go. , .
It is now you may iinderstand the magm‘.
ficent larigiiage cf‘ I-Ieaven—’-it niingles its
voi_cc withth-tit of Revelation I it stitnffiotis
you, in the hours when the leaves ofthe win-.
ter are gathering, to the evening study wiiicl:
the mert-.y of Heaven has provided in tha-
bonk of salvation. Arid while the shadowy
valley OPPDS, tviiicii leads to the abode of
deritli, it sprizilts of that love which conducts
to those green pastures, and those still was
ters ivlicre there is an eternal spring to the
children of Goci.—-.4l2'son. ,--...
-._._,_.,' 0’
MARY.
I i-_eiiic_rn_ber, \1t"l1‘Ct't_ a sclioolbcy, c'i‘feépT'rig"
down stairs one night, after my companion»?
were asleep, to spend an hour with my mas.
ters daughter in" her private sitting rooms-N.
Balore had been with her two riiintites, her‘
niotiier’s footsteps was heard so suddenly in’
my passage, that it was imposible for me to
ll’lH'e,witliotit being discovered in my e'i'i"f-
Thc door B’ which I 1 l ‘ "
Y enterei ay too far for
me to hope, that I could reach it before the
lady_ would open that which stood opposite.-
A discovery would have been terrible to both‘
of its, iiottvithstandiag our utter innocence of
heart anti purpose. VVlirit was to be done '2
Mary placed her fingers on her lips.----
lcoked towards my door, and, as her mother’
opened the otiier,a.pparentl_i/ by acc2'rIent.snuf-‘
fed otit the candle! The act was so delicate-'
ly timed, that the old woman saw her usino
the siztiffcrs, but Mary so ltemmed iii tit?!
light. with their hollow part, tint iicr moth-
cr never detected my trembling pg";-son.
.1-..
ginia. \'v'c dared not tell the truth to S.=tll\',
but wrote to her that yoti hztd written to sziyl
that you were going to stay abroad some tinfel
longer for :'(‘.ll-itft1Tlpl'O\'t?lTiC‘!Ei. iVP,1‘t10l‘L‘O-i
vi-.r, said that you had sent kind iiiessaqcs toi
her, uni that your wish was to make your-_.
self descrviiig of her. This rlesceptioii we?
had to repent during the two years that she-
\\ as ntvay. At the end of that time site re-
turned, bringing with her it l\'IiSS Simon. at
young lady of l’lymoutii, who had been her
frii-ntl abroad. Alasl Sally was not long,
as we had fr-an-d, in asking us to permit her
to read the iett-.~r of her ‘dcrir VViiiiam.’——
The question afflicted us so niuc.h that it was
vain to thin}: oflongcr concealing the truth.
‘ I feared this,’ said Sally, with tears biitaf-
tor a time she conifortcd tts, saying, “ Iain
assured we shall see hint again.’
“Sally had improved hcrsclfso much, that
she was regarded as a most accomplished
girl. and people in tiic neighborhood who
had I1f:V‘t’.l' noticed her before, were now hap-
py to have her in their circle. A young cler-
gyrrian proposed for her, but, my dear ‘Nil-
liarn,S.iity told i1illl‘llCl'll(,‘1'll‘[ was with you;
and when he said you \\':tS prolzabiy dead,
she replied, that ‘ her affections were then
with you in the 'Il‘2'1Vt.‘.’ After the departure
of her friend, Miss Siiiion,she spent her whole
time in some quiet cinploytiir-nt, till Si1(". re-
ceived rt sumnioris to go to Plyrnoutli, ztccortl
ing to ‘d proinisi- made, and be her frit-iid’s
bi'idesm:iit|, on her union with C::pt,Toulchci',
an ofiiccr in. the army. She went to Plym-
outh nc'coi‘diiigly, btit she did tint return.
lrrplace of l'lt;‘t'St"lf their came a letter from
her to her parents, announcing that Capt.
Toulcher had received a-company in a i'egi-
rnent then serving in Noitli Anierica, that
Mrs. Toulcher was going with hiin,-and that
she had resolved to accompany them-—-for she
was stire that she would find you in that
country, and-be the happy mcansofrcstoring
you to yoiir p:i re-tits. Mr. and Mrs. VViiitroo
were at first greatly distressed, but they could
not rvmedy the matter, as Sally had sailed
llT1lTl€CliHIL'ly on writing. Her father, there-
fore, sent after her a letter of credit _on cer-
tain merchrtiits in New York. iVe have
not yet heard from her, as all this happened
but a short time back. ”
My father here closed his narrative. I
was so deeply impressed with S'ally’s con-
stancy, that. [was for starting iinmediart-ly in
pursuit of her. But" a little refit-ciioii made
Int‘ more patient. Br-sides, Mr. and M rs.
Wliitroe crime to me, and treat’:-ti’ me like it
below-d son. At the cntrertties ofall, [agreed
to stay till a letter came from Sally. The
inti-rval fcinployi-d in writingto Miss Reade,
telling her the wliolv story, and engagi-ti herl
to find otit and be kind to my Sally. Wiien'l
the lett:ii‘ at it-n,9t'h wrote, afinnuncing her}
arrival in New York, 1 rigain bade adieu to5
my parents and frir-iids. Tliiitking it dislion-1
oriibie in an English‘ st-aiiian to be an idle‘
spcctattorin ri English ship, 1 engaged with
the ca ptriin ofthis vessel toywork my passage,
out, and here 1 am on my way to New York. I
l was delighted with the spirited, hand-
some fellow, who thus told me his story, and
I thought to myself" that it was no wonder two
fine girls shciuld have loved him so. In
Ameiica, Iafterivards learnt, he found and
married his constant Sally. As for Ruth
R-eade, a creature so kind-hearted as she,
could not but be happy in life, though her
first affections were not rewarded as they
deserved.
'.["H'E3 DECLINE OF LIFE’.
There is an eventide in human life--a sea-
son when the eye becomes dim. and the
strength decays, and when the‘ winter of age
begins to shed’ upon t"be’human’ head its pro-
pltetic snows. it is flie season of life to which
the 3Ui.lIt111'l" is most 71l1Bl09’,OliS', and which it
becomes and much would it profit you», my
elder rezider. to iiia-rk the instruction which
it brings The spring and summer days are
erotic, and with them not only the joys they
new, but many ofthe friends who gave them.-
_cl}’tuged all this I
ct'oticiiirip; as I was behind my vounri love'a'
chair. During the bustle atteitdiint nii the il-
ltimination of the candle at a miraculously
dull fit'~:, 1 crawled toward the door and es;
t.‘i'tpF.-(1.
* \Vii;.it’s that ?’ asked old Mrs. 'I‘. ‘ Whats
that galloping across the floor?
‘ Pa-.ter’s mristifl puppy. I suppose ;- the
bmlf‘ 13 3l“’3}"S here.’ coolly repliecftiie lass.
Mary! thou bltie-eyed love of boyhood,
where art thou? Many a time have you
and I mingled our tears, until the fair tressesr
that wantoned on thy peachy cheek were
damp as the vine-tcndi'iic,
‘ ‘.’7'ct $'t'i"li1"e blots o’tie-w,’
because--alas! because we were too voung'
to be married. Vile swore at Cltristmas to’
be constant and patient until’ midsummer,
and then defy ate, and run away. But it
was our doom never to behold and frnotv
each other again. Perhaps I see thee daily,
sweet wench-and thou seest me, but time
has made such hovoc with our looks, ahat.’
thou dost neither recogiiize me, nor Ithee.-—.
VVeIl, well, my girl, we had our iiappvf
li_ours !-—pooi' fools as we were. Little did
either I or you dream, when you tised_ to‘
clasp me to your Budding bosom in the little
oakcn parlour at House, [hat I sltould
love and kiss so many Marys, as 1 have, since‘
I last enfolded thy sylphlike form in my
boyisli arms.
Peritaps little Mt1i'v'i3 at this very mo-'
ment latigliirig at the'i‘cmembrance (if her’
pretty trick with the snuffers and wonder-'
ing what has become of me.-
MY MUSING-GROUND.
a——n
BY THE AUTHOR or-‘ ‘Mir ristxt:4:c-cizot:.\'t:t.~"
Vfhat would have been the conditionflofl’
this cotintry, had the American Revolution-
faiied 7‘ 'Plii's‘is‘ a curious and somewhat
i inportant q'u‘esti'on‘. It cannot be deniedtiiar
tiiejiistice of a measure is too often deter-
mined by its success. Should we have been
a beet"-drinking, John Bull sort of people '.l—--
loyal and true,woi'shipping the virgin Queen,
or would a second revolt have taken place,
and the colonies finally have emancipated-
tlicmsclves .7. Hind’ the experimcrit of 7176'
failed, Britain, with a full knowledge of the
v.-tine ofthe American possessions,would have‘
flooded the country with the younger sons of
her nobles; [1 large standing army ivoultfliave
been sent over to fortify our cities, 5.-,line our
co.-ists; tl1f}.A(lfl1TlS{‘S Hancocks, at the residue
of the l.)t'1-lil‘~.1nISlt'il.(’S1'nt‘3l’1' oftlre day. with the’
leaders of our armies, would have been exe-
cuted: the mass of the people would haye.
b_ccom_e terrified at the success and stem ju-
risdiction oftne crown; and above till, the‘
nattrra-lizationlaws would have been so tram.
ed, that little inducement would have beets‘
held out to our foreign brethren to leave
Europe. Emigrants would not liav-e been»
considered or the people, but only A3I0.\'0’
them. They would’ not have enjoyed the‘
rt-ght of s__uH’ra'ge, nor have been eligible to
office; they would not, probably, have been
put on an equality in the pui°ch"a'ae of public‘
lands; but considered as a vrortiiless band of
itinerant _wanderei's. The British popula-'_
li.°."..‘-‘i.°Ji'Z'§’p’2?.§;iZ ,’°.°.l§“§§.‘li.li’.sZ l33l.‘lIi'-’i’.’...‘-if
become so accustomed to British laws, that‘
tlfiey wougdnot have even desired to change!
eir con itton.
The R-'evolutfo'm and our consequent" net’-'
ttralization iawsbringiiig upon, us all nations,
physically as‘ well as mentally c'haiige"d us.
it has transformed’ rnost_of'_ us into ‘lean.
Cassius-looking men.’ Instead of growing-
up, as we should have done, after‘ the rotun-‘
dity of John Bull, we are a compound‘-'-'-*
Scotch, Irish, English. Dutch, and Frerich‘;
all iri'a'inas‘s; -The who-le world has beet?
laid under cont'i°ibuti'on to make us up. Butl-
nvirdcfent in‘ the revolution would have",
The participafors in
rebellion.’ as it‘ would I.:z~.*e been I9‘.-'E!'.H.=.-.5‘
would have passed away in a few years;
their names s:'igmatiz'ed in-= l'iistory,- and chef»!
Norwalk Chronicler