.10
5o
Published Every Wednesday Itlornirag, by JAMES 1:131-:1), Jr. at Two Dollats Per Annum i
DNESDAY
Li: .
NUMBER , 18 0-—NE,VV
Terms of the G:az«8l.lt-'.‘--
Village Subscribers by C:trrier—pet' year. .. 00
Mail do in advance do do. 2 Oil
Oflice Sttb;<criltei's, or those living out of the
Carrier'sdistrict, and who call for men‘ p:i-
pers at the oliicc . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . -
Ctllllllitllltfs oi or more recctvtttg their pa-
pers hv lllilll. if paid ui advance . . . . . . . . . . .
:.-?=‘-izttte-.s of A.=.lv2-r!i-i.ta"'.
One sqttttre-—]Gliiteso1‘uud_er-—l iu.<:crtiou.. . 0
, 'l‘wo llI.~'(’.I‘lI0lL~‘.,_ . . . . . . . . _ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
'l‘liree iit.~'crtion.~' _ . . . _ . . _ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. ] I
1 50
1-50
20'‘
i-Tacli follo\viu_«_r insertion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Fxec'.ttor’.< an-:l .‘\tlutini.<trator’.~‘ Ntttices. . . . . . I 00
Cotittiiissittitt:t"-snotice»: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 1 ‘25
('Eu:tr:li:itt, lll\'0l'L‘t-3. and u‘-.l-.er llt')liCeS.... . . . 1 00
the .~‘!]ll:ll'L‘.
. fl (ill
Yearly odvcrti.~:cr.<. one .<q't-ire . . . . . . . . . . . ..
- pztyatlilo quarterly. 'l‘l~.e- pi'i\-ilc.-:_-e of _vv:tt'ly tul-
vérti.~'ci'.-: is liuiitozl to their own initnetliate b:t.--i- ~
ttc=.~'. , -
Casttttl ll(l\'(!l'll.~‘()lll(.‘lltS .~:cut to llli.< liflice. MUST iz:-:
ACCO.‘-ll‘.\,\'|l-ztt nv 'l‘}_l_i:'. ca:-‘u ‘ro ivsctii-2 i.\‘si-;tirio.\'.
auw-on-u..n-zqwwv
J O B P R N T N G,
ittl-' ALL KINDS-
Es?.‘x.-.:-cuted at the Gazette Qflir-e.
' ENTAL surgery.—-—.»\. llill. I).-null
._\ft,rg¢-_tnt'i, our-r.~ his so-r\ ices to the public
in nvr-r, ale-,partttI-‘tit of D-total .‘4ur_<1erv.
Orfici-, as lt-zrr.-t.ol°»rre. in llurral|’s Buildittes.
,-'.'gf.;rz,-ncss—...l A. -.\l'Lt~:tu. M. D ; lra Greg
dry, M, I); lloo. '|‘. B. Butler; llrtn. Benj.
lsiiucs; l{ev.‘Dr .\lt-ml; Re-v Etlwirt Hall; Rev
G N, .\‘utith. Narwafk. Ni-.ltcmi:tlt l’crr_v,M.D.
],'5,[ggޢ_-I,.1_ R. B. Bottsford, M. D. Danbuiy.
Dr. rlowell R. -dgcrs. Cofcchester. Wm Witter,
M. l). lVillimImIic. Ct.
For §a|e_—_-\ xaluahlc tract or
,-.. Laud, f'tll].~‘l.\‘illlQ of about 50 lt(‘l‘t'S.
--5 slllétllt-ll in this ltt\\ u. at \\"t,-2-t l'l.ur:l«;s.
so coll:-~tl. war the l’t'.~"ltll’l|('(‘til‘-litlll
Said tract is well aj-por
‘so.-ta. _
athau Uarnp. Srn.
Iiouo-d into plow, meadow. pasture and wood,
and will be sold in one or more parcels as will
best suit purchasers. on accommmlatine terms-
E. J. S1‘. Juuiv.
Nortvnlla, Sept 5. lS4'2. 36
The subscriber otlc-rs for sale hi-
well known est:ihli-hutent for the
manufatrturt-.ol'Oil Dressed Leather.
The premi~‘r-s contain about 12 86798
of good land. on which is :1 good Dwe||iu_,<:
House. Barn. Shop. uatlothcr ttr.ildings—a goml
water power. and a line orchard It is .~llII!llt'tl
on the hpobriry road. three milr-s from Norwalk
landiug. A further description is deeutetl an
new-.--nry. KLEBI-ZR Won1.t~:Y.
Norwalk. Attiz.l6. lS42 33
( ‘It ROUND Pepper and Allspicc.—
A first rate article of Ground P¢‘;tt,tt’l’ and
Allspicc for sale by the Sllll.~'tJl'll\f'f at l2§ ccttts
J~nN RUKRALL
per ttvtutttl tlt retttil.
‘ RICl‘l0N Matches by the grctss. tloz,
or sioglrz for sale by Ll-‘.VI (Think.
i0IVI3S, Slit-ll. Hutu. Ivory and (it.-rtiiart
Silver. of all kinds. cheap. L. CLARK.
ERFUD[EI{Yi,’;;(Ditrii of Riti:cu.’Ctilttgrie.
Rose: \'Vutct'. Jlauas.-:ar and ..tur~roits, very
L. (‘.1,.uttt's.
FOR sale CIneat1—r\
qttautitv of «ill lllittlt-' lll8ll’."
(‘,t)rtl'.~‘P ltttttls. for sale vvrv r-twap
to suit the titt.r=---—prit;c- $2.25.-—
Al,-.1 l.-gpp »iu_ $3.00 -—Il4Il.lll*‘ solos and vatups
‘A’-tlvr _'yrt;»-li gjohtilifi .'lt,'H.§ Clio, fit‘
,.l.-let .'r»..-.r-in--5 ti ri;tti-lsutitt- ;)~--trl.tttt-ti! of Rob
b-re. on-tststiitg of Lrtcli--s.’ lflllltlsetl and sole--l in
E)
low at h
_ Ir‘
gooil sl.VlP, Aiso ,c,-eiitlttttit-i:’s do. of first rate
quality.
'l‘ut=. ~'ttltst2l‘lltt“l‘ has Cottstaiitly on ll: lltl an
flS‘t)f«'.'Ilt.'lll of L=uli(-s ziutl t-ltil-lrt‘ti"s sltttms. ‘or
sales low to suit the titnes. 50 pair of tllor-ka.
_\ sins. irttenrled partit-ularly for ridiu;_t" both for
“‘~\,G.-utlouteo and imdio-S.
“‘—.,‘_"l‘lo; lh;|l|l{S of the umlr-rsigur’-tl are rottirttcil
=9 his patrons and tilt‘ ltUl|ll(' fut !lI"tt f'fl\'ttr:lll"l
Sn”.-rist -luri,itt_r tlw pail }|'ill’. For Hit‘
now v-=tr wf.i(;ii wt‘. it we now t‘lllt"lf>‘fl llDlllI hi-
l....l.-.|';.rr; Hll’lll}\lIl'l‘ rt‘ tilt-it‘ it"-ttt‘-iii‘-tgf'&r. ¢‘h'Ul\'(‘S
iv. 34.. l-«in.-' ntto-tttitttt tn tilt’ w;t- l.~' til lltt‘ lvlll)lI(?
to nit:-rt: l,’tv‘lf .~‘tljtlrtI!‘l. ill-ZNHY l’lA‘-DI-:s-
_\'-.-ru:ill;..lan. 3 .lS43.
M0l;A§SESSa
O Hluls Prime. New Ljrop Port.ot‘it.‘t't. and
26 b:-.rrelt~‘ Primo New Crop ;_\'t=w lir-
le-ans t‘-lol:.«.'~'s4-5. for sale by tlir: hhtl or bhl at
price-slltat defy ct-titpetitmu,'just lau-lrtl.
SUGAR.
Hhds prime St. Croix Sat_v:ir and 10' «lot
il'rllllP. i\'r-w U-lo-anus do. for sale by the
hint. hbi-_ or houvirn.-tl. at lows [Il’lCl‘ than tr -u ht‘
had at airy Slttre: in this village.
» RICE.
'l‘ierr:o:s fir.-i ipmiity Rice. for sale at
_from 2 1-4 to $3 per r.-wt.
Clover seed.
5 ’l‘iervcs New Crop Ultto Set-il, entirely from
from plantain, for sale at front 4 192 to $5
per litishcl.
Flour.
'hbls siijierfiue lion-hes’er Flour——Ef_y
-B".Q7Id-—l.Ul' sale low. The above goods
have just been l‘F_‘l!t"lV€(l from New York, and
w ll be sold for cash. at prices to_.sl)il the bard
iirnes. by Fm-znn. ST JOHN.
Norwalk. Murclt 22. 1843.
C ARRIAGE Springs -Eltptic Springs
ussttrtcd siz--s. warranted. for sale by
W C STE]-IP21‘.
V MBRICAN Locks. ace.-‘rite sub
scriber offers for sale at t\lauuf'at:turers"
prices, Pierpout 6?.‘ Hotcliltiss' patent door locks
and latches. witlt silver plated. tuiuerttl, plated,
er, porcelain, glass and brass knobs. which for
beauty or durability are not surpassed by any
ntanufactured in the country. W C Strum-ztr.
Norwalk. Nov. 14. 1842. .
‘ EASIPS Clarified Essence of Hoarliound
Candy. just received by W E B1881-SI-In
5(I0 lbs saperlor quality of M8548?»
500 “ ngwnoll-
.400 “ Fustia,
500 “ Aluttt.
.500 " Copperas.for sale cheap by
W E Btsst-:L1«.
NK--Keitt‘s Blackanrl Blue lok. the best
new in use, for sale and warranted by
__-I-__A. \Vt:t-‘.D-
IIGQTB.-—A new supply of ugar_--,-just
fecetvetl and for sale as cheap as ever--14
to ~20 pounds for 81. 1:‘, S1‘ Joan.
/\/\ /\_r\
SERIES.
‘jg/E" Y hy! (says l. as thrriugli the street
l xx-:tll\"tl -, and \‘.-‘u- (luring. cltunt"d to meet
My hotter ll¥lll.)-~l'tt'7\\' now lair tlztttir-!
“t't‘t--tt- in f‘t)lt~t'l-' ut-c. ulwrc iu .lt-hu's ttarrte.
, Yr‘ lt»:-e-of u l!\ .- ho is now to ltlortw! '
l\-\'ls---w! \.r‘ lllltk .-ti -._t.tv l lltt)~l (‘trilli--.-,
| l‘lt\ i‘o'-i-_-.ttt\ rl: -‘it‘.'l.~tlt rtior-I. tltre ivurrot'.~ tltcss,
Not marry tlztys wr ‘nouns ll.‘-l\’t' pa-st-tl rtwayg,
I.‘~’ittcv‘ act"-d glti.'t;i: in all hr-r grim array.
; lit-st-t thy ltro-.t ; u.m- uitlt loutl (l(“‘ll}1lll.
l l .-t-it tltriv tll'('l\'li in l'tt‘ZJ-'ltlt7t1 rtilws til. ligltl.
f$3t:rt> -o::.e= tit:t;-to-lat: lt:i.~: with tttstgitt ail
l’)t=l‘l-\"ll }.'r~::r5 from ll|lt(*-—-lll1.‘tll:‘_\ltlltI;§_’ tltylieart,
r
l
in lo .9: than halla uerlt
;lt.~ .'~‘llUlli',"',[ get rr::.
3.-ll'=~ !.=:i.‘u tiw .t't~rt'v-\\‘~‘ fr-uit litv age-tl l‘ll(*’9'l\' 3"’
l“l“i.~- ;,t:o.l1t-tut-:;r~tll itlt--ll \titi wttert-l'veltt-r-ti’
.-\:--t -. l .lt-.-- \--u will not (‘ttlll|‘ ll sin:
_ lt ~t A \. in : l- tr lit: ('\ lr-t tlue gllt'.~‘<
\.~ -~ r-tf. .:.-' t' l-. :- \ v.rri--tl.~ tlmtlt-V~ t‘l.tlff’.\.\‘.
ll rut --‘ n. = tr 2--v «1.t- ;-l:tt--- lo-it.-nu: d to roam.
l)» at rw-I-4 -t=-- ~tt-re l lain would utalw tut Ii:-me:
Y-~u <--r- tile tll'l ;-o«'~l as tit":-r"l tlre.~~'tl lwliirt-,
Y.-.t t'Ft'.ll?Iti gut‘-.~'.~ l—l'v¢- lI(_'t-‘ti tot1‘rumart'.s stor-.‘
“lint ye» l;oo~\ good tlunu. such bcau:i- g ra\s
Ill‘ llglll
.~'\..- you to. fl.-r-t, doth dim the poor rnr.u‘s siglit."
‘--No, no. good liu~l)atitl. llltl _\’ou but know
ltstrifltug r:o:,-t,yot: would not for your life say so.
At Gruntau‘s store I (‘hauc d to give a call,
Where one dollar bought this robe, this dress
and all.
Now my oracle with thy frowning face.
Go the-re—he'll surely light it with a cheerful
grace.
That aged, t=oil‘d and holy coat.
That oltl cravat around thy throat,
That grey. that dull, and ugly vest,
That hangs so meauly on thy breast.
Shall be exchangetl to thy desire.
' 'l‘ht n none will lame. lint rill admire
My ltti.-liaitvi-tltou wilt tlt‘,‘lit_tltt,
Nor rudely tlitis tlisgrricc nty :=ight."
"i will. my tvife, .-iur:e sot-li a trifle tends,
'l‘_-t tr.al-9 for rudeness. sucli happy. bright
!tl't'l“ttrl§ " .
inform
ltIUVF.(l to the west .-ide of the Brittgc, at the
stand lillr-l_\’ tt(‘t7lt[rlf,tl by R. S. Pennoyer, and
having |t|.ll‘(?ltflSt-'(l his stock in trade, is now
ready to furnish tln- public with the best assort-
uwut of articles in his line ever offered in this
rnarkr-'l—sttcl't ifs Saddles. Bridles, Hm-neggeg,
Trunks, Valises. Carpet B:-gs, Martiugules.
Halters and (follars Also. a superior assort-
merit a-f Uarrirtge and Riding \l/hips,
Saddle and haruc.-s Tritttmings ol' all kinds.
Saddler’.-x Silk, and a szeneral assortment of
artit-lo-s u.~:ua|ly called for in establishments of
this kind.
Also. it gootl assortment of El-tstic. and Webb
l5rm'P.~' «it his own [l)flt3ttlitrIjtrf'. made for
durabifily as well as (‘t)ll\-'f.’ltll‘lH‘(’..
'l‘lio+ ahove article-s. the uri«l_-rsizued pledges
ltitrtse-ll‘ to sell. as low as they can be found
e-l.er-,u.lu~re 'l’lir- ;t:llrttll:lg(‘. of‘. the public is
.'€~;H‘t‘il'till_V,' !~'(tllt'l‘l‘ll.
N. ll 'l‘l:.- S'flt‘|('3\l atmntioo paid to all kinds
of rt-pairing \Vu,1,i.tM B,Sw4_q,
Nttttvttik. Felt. l3. lS43. ‘
nit. M. ii. ri.i;'_ijt_:tii«:R‘s
’~ -tr.
Truss.
Patent
lllf. sttliscrtlirer would (‘all the attetttiult of
the I-oh?-i-; tt).~'¢illtPttl‘llletl17‘.l!y certificates
aotl l‘llllHfl3ll on-tit-es with \\'lIIt'll he is furuislicd
in zttlvsttlllttlt ul'tlw Sll;:t'rlUl' iutrits ol'l)r Fletch
‘o-”r’~ rm-etttiy lll\‘PlllPtl Truss, for the relief of
%:ttn.-i- allitct-cl witli the troublesome malady.
_l'l"lltl?). lo lig_tlitm-.--. ne:tlllt'SS, in the advanta-
,u- u" of ‘n log ttllwrtl to suit any alteration in the
.l‘i:on- of tllr wearer, and in general facility
iot‘ -nlapttuioo, it is lit-‘llPV(-‘ll that the in.<irun'teut
it-ztllilvil he S'tfp?lS~'t“(l. The stiliscrilier would
lt'melivlt‘ntl_v refer tlttl.~‘P who are desirous of:
ll""('ttrittg the besl. Truss to the numerous
‘twertilicates of individuals who are now wear-
,tug this iostrtitmuit, for infortnatinn as to its
lurettztit-=tl clliciemty-, Numerous testimonials
}l'rom Surgeons and Patients. may be seen on
application to the subscriber. For sale at re-
duced prices by W, E, B;ggEu,_
Norwalk. March 1. 1843. 3m9
AISIN_So—100 ,5 and whole boxes, new
crop, bunch Raisins, for sale by
Fmzn. S1‘ Joan.
EGISTER§ for 1S43.—The Cou-
uecticut Register for 1343. for sale by
J A WEED.
- QIIOVBLS and s|tn(lc§—Englisli and
for sale by ‘
W C STREET.
To Blacksmiths !
C O.A L! C O-AL!
10 Chaldrons of Superior
YI_ GINIA C OAL!
HE subscribers have just received the
above Coal. and are now prepared to
sell th in the yard a superior article lower than
ever before offered, for cash. Those who are
in want. will do well to call and examine the
above for themselves T L 51. J B. Pgpg,
South Norwalli. Dec. L842.
l K; American, by me dozen,
AHTED,-1000 pounds of Beeswax.
lfintjuire of W. E. BJSSEL.
January 10th. 1843.
To. 8, Burralvs BI0ck.s9Swlll’8 cele-
brated perl'umed,fle.-b, ball and tooth pow-
der; Sherman's vegetable tooth powder for sale
at Btssemfs.
his friends and the public. that he ha's’re- "
- .'..\.. .. .- ».
N on WALK GA z
NORWALK, CT. WE
if POETRY.
THE GREEN I‘IlLLS‘0F MY FATHER-
LAND.
nv A NATIVE or CONNECTICUT.
The green hills of my. f‘.tthcr-land
In dreams still meet my view ;
I see once more the wave.girt stt‘and——-
’l‘l1c ocean depth of blue—-
They sky--the glorious sky, outspread
Above their calui repose—»-
The river o’er its rocky bed
Still singing as it flows—-
Tlie stillness of the Sabbath hours,
VVheu men go up to pray-
Tlie sunlight resting on the flowers—-
The birds that sing among the bowers,
Through all the summer day.
Land of my birth !—tuinc early love!
Once iuore thy airs I breathe!
I see thy proud hills tower above-—
Thy green valcs sleep benentli—
Thy groves. thy rocks, thy mnrmuring rills,
All rise before mine eyes;
The dawn ofntorning on thy bills,
Thy gorgeous sunset skies—-
Tliy forest, from whose deep recess
A thousand streams have birth,
Gladd’ening the lonely wilderness,
And filling the green sileutness
\Vitli melody and mirtlt.
I wonder if my home would seem
As lovely as of yore!
I wonder if the mountain's stream
Goes singing by the door !
And if flowers still bloom as fair,
And ifthe woodbiites climb,
As wltettl used to train them tltore.
In the dear olden time !
I wonder if thevbirds still sing
Upon the garden tree,
As sweetly as in that sweet spring
Whose golden memories gently bring
80 many dreams to me !
I know that there hath been :1 change,
A change o'er hall and earth !
Faces and foot.<tcps new and strange,
About my place of birtlt !
The lteavens above are still as bright
As in the days gone by,
But vanished is the beacon light
That cheered my morning sky !
And hill, and vale, and wooded glfan, _
The rock and murmuring stream,
That wore such glorious beauty then,
W'ould seem, should I retttrtt again.
The record ofu dream ! i -_
I mourn not for my childhood’s hours,
Since in the far off ‘Nest,
‘Neath sunnier skies, in greener bovvors,
My heart has fotmd its rest.
I mount not for the hills and streams
That chained my steps so long,
Yet still I see them in my dreams,
And hail them in my song;
And oft by the hearth-fire's blaze,
Wlieu winter eves shall come,
VVc’ll sit and talk of other days,
And sing the well remembered lays
Of my green mountain home,
TO COOK POTATOES.
VVnsli them clean and scrape the skin off,
One water is never enough,
Take the eyes and nubbins thin off,
And every little speck that’s rough
Do not let them lie in water
(So the nice observers say)
Not :1 minute, not a quarter,
That will take the taste away.
VVlten the fire is burning brightly,
And the water’s‘boiling hot,
Sprinkle table salt in lightly,
Then put the kidneys in the pot.
Eighteen minutes, sometimes twenty
Cooks them nicely to a turn,
Some say more but that is plenty,
Every one must live and learn, &c. &c.
MISCELLANY.
From The Dial for April.
WORDSWORTH AND TENNYSON.
nv RA LPH wuno EMMERSON.
It was a brighter day than we have often
known in our literary calendar, when within
the twelve month a single London advertise-
ment announced :1 new volume of Poems
hv Wordsworth, Poems by Tennyson. and a
Play by Henry Taylor. Wadsworth’s nag
tore or character has had allthe time it need-
ed, in order to make. its mark, and supply
the want. Ofldlt‘nl. VVe have learned how
to read him. VVe have ceased to expect
lltal. which he cannot give. He has the
merit of just moral preception, but not that
of (left poetic execution. How would Milton
curl his lip til such slipshod newspaper style!
Many of his poems,-—-as for example, the
Rylstone Doe, might be all improvised.--~
Nothing of Milton, nothing of Marvell, of
Herbert, of Dryden, could. These are such
verses as in just state of culture should be
t:o:rse de Saciete, such as every gentleman
could write. but none would think of printing
or of claiming the poet’s laurel on the merit.
The Pindar. the Shakespeare. the Dante,
while they have the just and open soul,.have
glimmers in the Milky Way. the serratures
of every leaf, the test objects of the micriscope
and then the tongue to utter the same things
in words that engrave them on all the ears
of mankind. The poet demands all gifts.
and not one or two only,
The post, like the electric rod. must reach
front a point nearerto tltesky than all sur-
rounding objects down to the earth, and into
the dark wet soil. or neither is of use. The
poet must not only converse with. pure
thought, but he must demonstrate ll: Bl:
most to the senses. His words must be pic-
tures. his verses must be spheres and cubes,
to be seen, and smelled and handled. His
fable must be a good story. and its meaning
must hold as pure truth. in the debates of
the Copyright Bill, in the English Parlia-
ment, Mr. Sergeant Wakely, the‘ Coroner
quoted Wordsworth poetry in dérision,'and
asked the roaring House of.Commons what
that meant, and-whether a man should have
a public reward for writing such stuflf Ho-
mer, Horace. Milton and Chaucer would de-
fy the Coroner. While they have wisdom
to the wise, he would see that to the exter-
nal. they have external meaning. Cole-'
ridge cxcellently said of poetry, that poetry
must first be good sense, as a palace might
well be magnificent, but first it must. be a
it house.
Wordsworth is open to ridicule of this
also the eye to see the dimmcst star that P
.- ~,,,_s .-
~..-.,. ..,_ ~
. _.__._..... __- -._?..j_...._..__._.._.___..._.
kind. "And yet VVordswortlt, though satis-
ficd if he can suggest to rt sympathatic mind
his own mood, and though setting a private
and exaggerated value on his compositions,
though confounding his accidental with the
universal consciousness, and taking the pub-
lie to task for not admiring his poetry—is
really a superior master of the English
language, and his poems evince a power of
diction that is no more rivaled by his cotem.
poraries, than is his poetic insight. But the
capital merit of Wadsworth is that he has done
more for the sanity oftbis generation than any
other writer, Early in life, at a crisis it is
said, in his private afliiirs. he made his elec-
tion between assuming and defending some
legal rights with the chances of wealth and
:1 position in the \vorld—and the inward
protnptings of his heavenly genius; he took
“ his part; be accepted-the call to be a poet.
and sat down. for from cities, with coarse
clothing, plain fare to obey the heavenly
vision. The choice be had made in his
will. manifested itself in every line to be real.
We have poets who write the poetry of so-
cie-.y, of the patriztian and conventional Eu-.
rope, as Scott and Moore, and others, who,
like Byron or Bulwer, write the poetry of
vice and disease. But Wadsworth threw
hiinselfinto his place, made no reserves or
stipulations; man and writer were not to be
divided. He sat at the footof Hclvellyn and
on the margin of Winandermere. and took
their lustrous mornings and their sublime
midrtights for his thtrrne, and not Marlow,
nor Massinger, nor Horace. nor Milton, nor
Dante. He once for all lorsook the styles,
and standards. and modes of thinking of
London and Paris. and the books read there,
and the aims pursued, and wrote Helvellyn
and Winandtermere and the dim spirits
which these haunts harbored. There was
not the least attempt to reconcile these with
the spirit of fashion and selfishness. nor to
show with great deference to the superior
judgment of Dukes and Earls, that although
London was the home for men of great part:
yet Westmoreland had these consolation: for
such as Fate had condemned to the country
life; but with a complete satisfaction, he
pitied and rebuked their false lives, and
celebrated his own with the religion of a
true priest, Hence the antagonism which
was immediately felt between his poetry and
the spirit of the age. that here not only criti.
cism, but conscience and will were parties;
the spirit of literature, and the mod: s of
living, and the conventional theories of the
conduct of life were called in question an
wholly new grounds,-snot from Platonism,
not Christianity. but from the lessons which
th._a.aouult’y muse taught a stout pedestrian
climbing a mountain, and in following a
river from its parent till dawn to the sea.-
The Canning: and Jeffreys of the Capital,
the Court Journals and Literary Gazettecs
were not pleased, and voted the poet it bore,
But that which rose in him so high as to
the lips, rose in many others as high as to
the heart. What he said. they were prepar-
ed to hear and confirm. The influence was
in the air, and was wafted up and down into
lone and into populace places, resisting the
popular taste,-’,modifying opinions which did
not change, and soon came to be felt in pee:
try, in criticism, in plans of life, and at least
in legislation. In this country, it very early
found a strong hold, and its effect may be
traced on all the poetry both Ol England and
America.
But notwithstanding all Wordsworth’:
grand merits, it was a great pleasure to
know that Alfred Tennyson’; two volumes
were coming out in the same ship; it was a
great pleasure to receive them. The ele-
gance, the wit and subtlety ofthis writer, his
rich fancy, his ower of language, his met,
rical skill, his independence on any living
masters, his peculiar topics, his taste for the
costly and gorgeous, discriminate the musky
poet of gardens and conservatories of parks
and palaces. Perhaps we felt the popular
objection that he wants rude truth, be is too
fine. In these boudoirs of damask and ala-
baster, one is farther offfrom. stern nature
and human life than in ,I.,alla Rooklt’ and
tThe Loves of the Angels.’ Amid swing-
ing censers and perfumetllarnps. amidst Vel-
vet. and glory we long for rain and frost,
Otto of roses is good. but wild air is better.
A critical friend of ours affirms that the vice
which bereaved modern painters of their
ower, is the ambition to begin where their
fathers ended ; to equal the masters in their
exquisite finish, instead of their _religious
urpose, ' The painters are not willing to
paint. ill enough: they will not paint fortheir
times, agitated by the spirit which agitates
their country; so should their pictures pic-
one as and draw all men after them; but
they copy the technics of their predecgsgors,
and paint for their predecessors’ public. It
seems as iftbe same vice had worked in po-
etry, Tennyson’s compositions are not at
much poems as studies in poetry, or sketches
after the styles of sundry old masterg. He
is not the husband who builds the homestead
after his_own necessity, from foundation-stone
to chiutuy.-top and to turret. but_ It.’ lttfileltll
bachelor, who collects quaint stair cases and
grained ceilings. We have no right to such
superlineness. We must not make our bread
of pure sugar, These delicacies and splen-
dors are then legitimate. when they are ex-
cess of substantial and necessary expenditu re.
The best songs of English poetry are by that
heavy, hard. pedantic ' poet, Ben Johnson.
Johnson is rude, and only on rare occasions
gay. Tennyson is always line; but John-
soifsjbeauty is more grateful than'I‘ennyson’s.
It. is a'nat.ut‘al manly grace ofa robust work.-
man. Ben's flowers are not in pots, at a
city flori_st’s, ranged on a flower.‘ stand. but he
is a countrytnttn at a harvest-home, attend:
lug his oxscart.‘ from the fields, loaded with
‘potatoes and apples. with grapes and plutnbs
with nuts and berries, and stuck with bougha
of hemlock and sweet briar. with farm and
, APRIL 26, 1843.
:‘.€i'(:'én51iv—'.i.-..*a2‘.<r,w'.I.‘(‘.'t'-,-. '.'r‘.':"‘~¢?‘\".‘.'--'3‘v-"4' *5 ‘
. . ._ - - A
T T
In Advance. office “on Hoyvs Dock, West side
VOLUME 26-NUMBER 17.’
_ ...-..._...—\na.-— —.
ponddilies which the children have gathered I
But let us not quarrel with our benefactors.
Perhaps Tennyson» is too quaint and elegant.
What then .’ It is long since we have had
as_good n lyrist; it will be long before we
have his superior. ‘Godiva’ is it noble po-
em that will ti-llthe legend a thousand years.
The poem of all the poetry of the present
age, for which we predict tbelonges: term,
is 'Aboun hen Adhein’ of Leigh Hunt. For-.
tune will Itill have her part in every victory
and it is strange that one of the best. poems
should be writtentby a man who has hardly
written tiny other. And ‘Godiva’ is a para.
file which belongs to the same gospel.-.-
‘Locksley Hall’ and ‘The Two Voices’ are
meditative poems, which were slowly writ-
ten to be slowly read. ‘The Talking Oak,’
though a little hurt by its wit and ingenuity,
is beautiful and the most poetic of the vol-
ume. ‘Ulysses’ belongs to a high class of
poetry, destined to be the highest, and to be
cultivated in the next generation. ‘(Enone’
was a sketch ofthe same kind. One ofthe
best specimens we have of the class is Words-
worth’s tLaodamia,’ of which no special
merit it can possess equals the total in rit of
having selected such a subject in 3 ch in
spirit.
A NAVAL REMINISCENCE.
‘In the naval public service commanders
must act upon delicate} suspicions--upon the
‘evidence cfthcir own eyes, they must give
desperate commands and they must require
instantaneous obedience.'—-Chancellor Kent.
In the year 1822, the Caribean Sea was
infested with Spanish privateers-amongst
them was a fairy-like brigantine, called the
‘P-anchita’—-she was the very witch of the
waters —and although professedly after Col-
ombian property, she often indulged in the
less honorable practice of taking upon easy
terms, cordage, duck. provisions, &c. from
neutral vessels.
About this time the U, S. schooner Gram.
DUI under the command of Lieut, Francis
H. Gregory,‘ dropped anchor in the fine
harbor of St. Thomas. Vessels which had
been relieved in one way or another by the
sharkish Panchita, were continually arri-
ving at that port. and the brig’.-3 reputation as
advcry free trader, was pretty well establish-
(9 . ~
' After a short stay, the Grumpus sailed on
a cruise, and soon found herselfuu the weath- K
er quarter and within ptstol shot of the well
armed and daring ll?-nnchilu.’ The Ameri-
can ensign waved at the peak of the Gram-
pus, and the sickly looking flag of Spain
hung at the main of the corsair.
‘Haul down your colors to the United
States schooner Grumpus !’ shouted Gregory
trumpet tongued, front the lee arm chest,
No disposition to obey this peremptory
summons was ntanifestcd by the Spaniard,
and his flag still curled in the breeze. Pres-
ently, a fellow whose luxuriant mustaches,
red silk jacket and yellow vest denoted au-
thority, took his cigar from his mouth, and
in an under tone gave some order which
caused a slight movement amongst the vag-
abonds around him.
The brig carried a long brass eighteen-
pounder ainidships, on a pivot—-This had
attracted the attention of the American, and
hestill continued to scan it with much interest
if not with admiration. The little Grampus
was only fifteen months old. and of course
too young to listen tolthe tones of this beauti-
ful but ponderous instrument, Indeed from
the first, her commander had decided not to
permit any practical illustration of its pow-
ers; consequently. when he saw it stvarthy
looking chap making towards it with a red
hot poker, he expressed his dislike in the
shape ofa broadside, which was slipped in-
to the brig with the tnost annoying celerity.
A finer exhibition of gttnnery was never
seenl The long eighteen was in the lee
scuppers, and a dozen or less deserving fel-
lows had escaped the gallows, and the upper
works of the brig were completely demolish-
ed. She was sent into St. Thomas to repair
and from thence sailed as a prize for the
United States, where she arrived with the
American ensign flying over the (red) flag
of the licensed pirate.
The Panchita. had at regular commission
from the Governor of Porto Rico—and it is
not therefore strange that her capture was
considered by many as one of the most dar-
ing aggressions ever committed upon the flag
of any nation. The writer lived attbnt time
and for a long time after, near the scene of
this exploitfand never knew, or does not
now remember how the matter was settled
by the two Governments. nor is it probable
he would ever have recurred to the subject,
but for the clamorous ‘ rnaledictions which
have lately been uttered against the merito-
rious comrnancler oftbe Somers, for having
‘transcended his powers in the taking of hu.
man life.’
If a plan for mutiny and murder, must be
put into active operation, before it can be
considered anything more than sport, then
perhaps, the question may come up amongst
the relatives oftbe slaughtered pirates,whet'h-
er the gallant Gregory was not impelled by
‘fear’ in firing into the P-anchita—and when).-
er be was not bound to considder the act of
introducing the red.-hot poker to the long
eighteen. ‘a mere piece of fzm’-—tbe exuber-
ance of youthful romance!
' !=Now Capt. Gregory, the commander of the
U. S. seventy four, North Carolina. and a native
of Norwalk.
Lav; of hfe,—At 25 we say we shall be
ready to die at 50-—-at 50 we would live till
70-—at seventy we ask for a bundred—and
if a century rolls over our heads. We {We still
unwilling :0 relinquish our hold of life. It
is strange with what tenacity we cling to an
existence, embittered by disappointments,
darkened by sorrows. and robbed of all Ill
bowie; ltyttnt atom mutqrfliu,
or the inriuge.
....u—-—.-— __.—u an
THE INFANT DEAD.’
The author of the following; which Brat-
appeared i_n the Richmond Star, evidently
knows what are the pangs It parent feel:
when called to part with his child; and those
readers who have been in like manner afiict-
ed. will not fail to appreciate the subjqincd
most natural and most affecting picture.
!‘The only true, deep clinging cord that
binds us to the world and our kind, arefound
in affections; in those tendrilsiof love that
bind heart to heart so closely, that they be.
come as it were one, and to separate which,
seems for the time. almost like a blow of
mutual death. But of all partings, perhaps
there are none more agonizing than that
which comes between the parent and those
beautiful flowers of life, that have been so
tenderly and nnxiously watched ; and who,
day after day, as some new charm. some
tiny grace devclopccl itself, have been bound
closer and closer to the bosom. The old or
the mature, dying in their strength, seem but
to have sunk before an inevitable fate; and
Time. with its oblivious hand, gradually
smooths away the harshness ofour first grief,
But when the weak and dependent, the pure
the innocent, the fragile, bow before the
brea'h of the destroyer, a keen agony is felt,
and the fountains ofthe soul are more deeply
stirred. To see its infantile face, one day
lighted up with the merry laugh, springing
from a spirit that knows only of fair sun-
shine—-happy, joyous, frolicsome, a light
that cheers you home and makes glad your
heart after a days’s rough toil-—andthe next,
with fevered limbs and panting breath. meek:
ly enduring the pain of a disease that will
not be baffled of its victim; to feel the cold
chill run through your veins as the‘ fear
touches you to watch its sufferings, to see it
sink slowly; to see that mild eye rest faintly
in its last glance upon you; to see the lid
droop and close, and then feel that it is gone
lorever—the sweet cherub you have so" lov-
ed and so altetished—...carries a pang, a keen:
er and more intense agony of soul. than lan-
guage can tell or imagination dream, Naps
can know who have not suffered.
At this season of the year, many a victim
is offered up in all its angelic purity. Many
a heart that peruses this will answer to it
with tears, and feel that——
Like early flowers on upland lea.
They bloom--and fade as silently.
DOMESTIC Ftactcirir.
‘I do believe.’ he says, taking the ‘spoon
out of his glass, and tossing it on the table;
‘that ofall the obstinate. positive, wrong.
headed creatures that ever were born, yap
are the must so, Charlotte
‘Certainly. certainly, have your own way’
pray. You see how much [contradict you,’
rejoins the lady,
‘Of course you did not contradict me at
dinnerstime-—oh no, not you! says the gen.
tleman, ' ‘
‘Yes I did,’ says the lady,
‘Oh, you did! cries the gentleman, ‘you
admit thatl’ ’
If you call that contradiction, I do,’ the
lady answers; ‘and I say again, Edward,
that when I know you are wrong,I will
contradict you, I am not your slave.’
‘Not. my slave l’ repeats the gentleman,
bitterly; ‘and you mzan to say that in
Blackburnls new house there are not more
than fourteen doors, including the wing
cellar l’
I mean to say.’ retorts the lady, beating
time with her hair-brush. on the palm of
her hand, ‘that in that house are fourteen
doors and no more,
‘Well, then,’ cries the gentleman. rigin
in despair, and pacing the room with rapid
strides, ‘this is enough to destroy a mp_ri’_s
intellect and drive him madl
By and bit the gentleman comes to, a little
and passing his hand gloomily across his
forehead. resents himself in his former chair,
There is along silence and this time thg
lady begins,
'1 appeal to Mr, Jenkins, who sat next to
me 9n a sofa. in the drawing room. during
tea.
‘Morgan, you surely mean.’ interruptstbg
gentleman. ‘
‘I don't mean anything of the kind.’ In»,
swercd the lady.
‘Now, by all that is aggravating and int:
possible to bea r,’ cries the gentleman, clench:
ing his hands and looking upwards in-agony
‘slip iskgoing to insist upon it that Morgan,
is en ins .7 ‘
‘_Do you take me for a perfect {col ,7’ egg
claims the lady, ‘Do you suppose I _don’t
know one from the other .? Do you suppose
I don't. know that the man in the _b_l_t_t_e coal
was Mr. Jenkins 7’ ’
‘lenkins in at blue coat l’ cries the gentle.-
man, with a groan, ‘Jenkins in a bluecoatl
—a man who would suffer death ratbcrtlum
wear any thing but br_owp_.’
‘Do you dare to charge me with falling on
untruth I’ dcntands the lady. bursting into
tears. ’
‘I charge you, ma ,am,’ l’£l0l'l8 the gentle.-
mnn. starting. ‘with beingia monster of con-
tradiction—a monster of aggi-ava_ti_o_n—-a-.-a
ea_—Jenkin,s in a blue coatl What have I
done that I should be doomed to bear sttcll
statements! .
-—-?——--—-'—'-"“"?‘
‘I wish you would give me that ring 09
your finger,’ said it village dandyto .I!'.¢.O.llll:
iry girl. for it resembles the durtittnn of my
love for you—it has no end.’ ‘Excuse Inf
r
s
sir,’ said she, ‘I choose to keep it, for it :
likewise embltttnatical of mine for your»
has no beginning. .. i
A. lady once asked a Jack Tar why: In.-
se-l was called .rli_¢-‘because. answered Jack
with I knowing leer. the rigging cpgtnpgrp
than the ltyll.’
Norwalk Chronicler