II
II
Ii
732`3 lgoaar-acpaxo
4 40 70
[For the Bradford Reporter.]
Pi Presented to the Rev. S. F. Colt.
td The Faithful Minister.
rre that goeth forth and weepeth; bearing pre
thous seed, shall doubtless come again with
re joicing, bringing his sheaves with him.—
Pciwris, 126, vi.
,6r e g, they whose arduous path with tears is
il mimed. ' •
.` 4 t . :l ll'see with joy, a golden harvest wave,
... ,4 ';;dreap with triumph and hosannnas high.
.' .45 0 s like a twinklih g diamond set in gold,
~'i
: ..Thi l promise starts it rays ; it shines our Lord's
--:l z hessador to cheer, and gilds his path,
, .
l.
.;.- 1 never4eiting star ; and while he labors
....., his master's cause, the seed, long buried
...
: er.os to mock his toil, he still believes the
'-'Gast Jehovah's word, that he in time shall
e 1... reap.. •
forsteep'cl in tears, and watered with his
prayers,
The precious seed was sown; not the•cold
Heartless prayer of apathy—but penitence
Deep felt, that draws the crystal drop forth from
its secret! cell ; the prayer, the incense sweet,.
[ That finds a place within the golden censer,
' Offered up to the eternal throne, upon
The altar of Heaven's beamy gold, by
Angel offered, who well pleased to thus
Serve bis creator, ever at big call.
And every prayer from Heaven descended •
Shall to Heaven return, a fragrant offering to
The Kirig of kings. And though not every
form,
assed of for prayer, shall meet witli this high
acceptance;
l'et we know the word of God shall fail when
Hrejects contritions humble sigh,
Tie prayer of faith in his anointed one.
Nor ddth the wordy - torrent, preaching called,
Where Sparkling froth allures the vacant eye,
Produce this glorious harvest. No : a harvest
Of frivolity and sin will be the fruit that followS:
But Jesus crucified, where all the splendor
4 31 . tht God-head shines in most resplendent 11
Beauty : this the soul-inspiring theme should lee
The story in appropriate language told,
How from the manger to the cross he went,
Will touch the nicest cord, that silent lies
Deep in the human bosom ; the pious
Heart reeponcla harecionious to the secret'
zzund, from the well touched lyre, sweet
music flows,
Nat can the unbeliever hear, unmoved •
The Savior!, dying grcians; he cannot hear
With heartless inattention, or with scorn,
The groans that tent the solid rocks in twain
0 comfort ye my people" saith your God,
Speak words of comfort to Jerusalem,"
Her warfare soon accomplished, ends in 'glory ;
Here she feels the joy of pardoned sin,
__yes ye embassadors of Christ, 'tis yours,
?le flock to feed : and be e sure to
lweute with ears this high commission—
Yea his lambs and sheep; thus fed and nonr-
•
ished opt
.e .world shall knowledge take, that you have
been
I:th Jesu's: learned of him ; dins the heirs of
he shall be co-workers with you. Those
reverted by your ministry ahall form
you a coronet of stars to glitter
,-ayour temples-when your sun is darkness.
Wysox, Jan. 30, 1845. MART .1.
1 [For the Bradford Reporter.)
The Soldier's Farewell.
-
banner is flung to the toierze,
And my scimitar-bound to my side, [seas
.4 bark that must bear me is lannch'd on the
And awaits but the ebb of the tide.
The foe of my country is dashing
The free wavAhat circles our shores, [ing
1 /Yrihere the weapons of death may be clash-
Eat the heart that I leave thee, is yours.
me thee, at parting, the vow
Thou had breathed in my bosom so oft;
hod the prayer that I say for thee now,
To the God who has heard thee I waft.
to kiss dearest love, and I leave thee,
One word and I fly from thy view
1! let not this parting kiss grieve thee, *
Norhe sad at the accent adieu!
ve.spoken the thought of my heart,
o longer my feet must delay ;
it seems when I move to depart,
ere is ranch I still have to - say.
me, yet let there be given,
or the dream that ! still claim with thee,
igit to the far love in heaven- 7
tear to the warrior at sea.
. 11 1111111CMG, PA. P.
Fame.
' '• • is foreign, but of true desert ;:
Maud the headybut comes not to therbearte
Ipprovin g tonr, whole years outweighs
Pid starers, and of loud buzzes ;
li cesi.t.tte joy Marceline exii'd ferls,
Fuser with a senate at his heeler
' • )
4 , 0 "!,, /riPi
The Two Purses.
Boston, the Athens 'of America, the
Yankee city, the city of notions, most
of my readers doubtless know from
personal observation, to be thus appro
priately. named. The first title she
well merits. in consideration of the
liberal encourageMent of literature and
fine arts ; the second, too, for the pe
culiar genius and character of her
population, and though we may look
upon the backwoodsman of New Eng
land. as a real specimen or acknowledg
ed representative of the tribe (ill may
so speak) abroad.; the third title is
merited from the fact of the never-tiring
inventive genius of .its inhabitants.—
Possessing a population of nearly a
hundred and twenty thousand, she is
yet free, in a great measure, compared
with her sister cities in the Union,
from the horde of vices and evil ctis
toms• that prevail at the South and
West. The gambler here accomplishes
his purpose in secret; there are no
public billiard rooms, masquerade halls
or resorts of infamy. though all these
evils exist in a greater or leis degree,
as in all large populated cities, yet so
hidden as not to come before the eye
of innocence, or tempt those who do
not take preliminary- steps to vice.
Boston, courteous reader, the Yan
kee city of Massachusetts bay, shall
be the locale of our tale. There is a
portion of the west part of the town
here, as in London, occupied by the
more opulent of the inhabitants, in the
immediate neighborhood of the com
mon, as it is called. The vicinity is
the aristocratic portion of , the city.—
You will not find this spirit of pride or
aristocracy to consist of the same in
gredients as constitutes the grade of
society in the old country ; there birth
alone establishes the claim to distinc
tion, while here the most potent agent,
money, is the most powerful. Ah, in
this boasted free country, gold is the
leveller of all ranks, forming for itself
a kingdom out of the Republic, which it
rules with a rod of iron, though in this
City, genius and intellect are far more
readily appreciated than in other parts
of the States.
. It was a cold winter night, and the
wind whistled through the bare limbs
of the giant trees that lined the mall.—
The ground was covered 'with snow,
upon whose sparkling surface the light
of the moon fell with dazzling splen
dor, studding the incrusted ground with
brilliant diamonds. As the Old South
clock struck nine, a young man closely
wrapped in his cloak, sought the shade
of one of the large trees in the park,
from whence he
.watched the coining of
numsrous carriage loads of gaily dress
ed people of both sexes, who entered
one of the principal houses in Beacon
street. Through the richly stained
glass windows, the gorgeous light is
sued in a steady flood, accompanied by.
the thrilling tones of music from a full
band ; the house illuminated at every
point, seemed crowded with gay 'and
happy spirits. The stranger still con
templated this scene—his cloak, which
until now had enveloped the lower part
of his features, had falleb, discovering
a face of manly beauty, a full dark eye,
with arching brows, and short curling
hair, as black as the raven plumage,
set off to a great advantage his Grecian
style of feature—a becoming,moustache
curled about his mouth, giving a decid
ed classic appearance to the whole face.
The naval button on his cap showed
that he belonged to that branch of our
national defence.
A Shall I enter," said he thoughtfully
to himself, A and feast ;mv eyes on
charms that I can never possess ? Hard
fate that I should be so bound by the,
iron chains of poverty—yea am a man,
and have a soul as noble as the best of
them. We will see," he =said, and
crossing over to the gay scene, he en
tered the hall. He cast off his over
shoes, handed his cloak to a servant,
and unannounced, ' mingled with the
beauty and fashion that thronged the
rooms'. Gradually making his way
among the crowd, he sought a group
ip whose centre stood a bright and
beautiful being, the queen, in lovelineSs,
of that brilliant assembly. The bloods''
of the West End flocked about her,
seeking for an approving glance from
those dreamy blue eyes; half abstrac
ted, she answered or spoke upon the
topics of conversation, without appa
rent interest. Suddenly she started,
blushed deeply,_dropped a half courte
sy, in token of recognition to some one
without the group. Her eyes: no lon
!ger.languid, now sparkled with anima
' lien, and as our naval friend entered the
group about her, she laid her tiny glov
ed hand within his, saying
Welcome, Ferris, we feared your
Regardless of Denundoiion from any Quarter.—Gov. Po art!'
'II'O\AT,LIZMi\-, 9 M.SSIDUCM. 7 2; (5::ZKUtsi T'Loo al-LMOM
sailing orders had taken You to sea this
bleak weather."
" We should not, have lifted anchor
without . first paying tribute to our
queen." was the gallant reply.
A titter ran through the circle of ex
clusives at his appearance among them,
but when the lady approved, there was
no room for complaint.
"Strange familiarity," said one young
fellow to another. " what pretensions
can he have here ?"
." And Miss H called him by
his given name too," said another ;
"rather familiar, that—wonder what
the old man would say to it."
What scene does this painting re
present?" inquired a lady friend at this
moment of Anne H-.
I think iris - an Italian picture," re
plied the fair girl.
" Spanish. I shOuld say," observed
he who was first questioned on the ap
pearance of Ferris.
" Evidently Spanish," said another
exquisite, " though T regret to differ
from Miss I-I
" You err," said Ferris, turning to
the two gentlemen, " the lady is right.
It is an Italian scene, as you will dis
cover by a closer examination of the
costumes and - figures."
"Pray do you establish yourself as an
umpire in the case ?" retorted one of
those who had pronounced this piece
to be a Spanish scene.
"I contend that you are wrong,"
said the other, seeking some cause for
difference, and desiring to " show up "
the pretending Lieutenant.
"Pardon me ladies," said Ferris,
taking no notice of the insult - of the
speakers. I saw that painting in the
studio of Isola, at Genoa, a few years
since, and I know from its author that
it represents a street scene in that Ital
iaii city, otherwise I should not have
spoken."
Alt you have great advantage over
us all in having travelled so extensive
ly, Mr. Harvard," said Anne H
desirous to restore good feeling.
The gay• scenes of the night wore
on ; several times had Ferris Harvard
completely put at fault the shallow
brained fops around him, placing them
in anything but an enviable light.
Ferris Harvard was a lieutenant in
the navy ; and depended entirely upon
his pay as an officer to support a wid
owed mother and a voting sister, to
both of whom he was devoutly attach
ed. His father, a self-made man, had
once been a successful berchant,Nvito
sailed and freighted some of the heavi
est tonned vessels that left the port of
Boston ; but misfortunes and sickness
overtook him, and he sunk into the
grave, leaving his only son to protect
his mother and sister from the wants
and •ills of life. Ferris had enjoyed a
liberal education, and, having entered
the navy as a midshipman, had risen to
a lieutenancy by reason of his superior
acquirements and good conduct. His
profession had led him to all parts of
the world, . and he had carefully im
proved his advantages—though con•
strained by reason of his limited means
to the practice of the most rigid econo
my.
He had met with the only daughter
of Harris H , one of the wealthy
citizens of Boston, at a fete given on
board the ship to which he belonged,
and had immediately becomelenamored
of her, btit he well knew in his own
heart that the difference • in their for
tunes formed a ,barrier to his wishes.
He had been a casual visitor for several
Months subsequent to the time our sto
ry commences, at the house of the
H family.
I must think of her no more," said
Ferris to himself, if lam thus sneered
at by her friends for offering her com
mon civilities, with what contempt
would her austere parents receive a
proposition for her hand from one so
poor and unknown."
Harris H--- - was indeed a stern
old man, and yet he was said to be kind
to the poor, giving freely of his bounty
for the relief of the needy. Still he
was a strange man ; he seldom spoke
to those around him, yet he evinced the
warmest love for his only cif ild ; and
Anne, too, loved her fath with an
ardent affection. His delight was to
pore over his library, living as it were
in the fellowship of the old philoso
phers. On several occasions, *hen
Ferris was at his house, and engaged
in conversation with Anne, he had ob
served the old man's eyes bent sternly
upon , him, when his he rt would sink
within him. and he would awake to a
reality of his situation.
Ferrii was one evening in Boston
street, at the house of Mr. 11-,
where, in spite of the cold reception
he received from those he generally
met dune, he still enjoyed himself in
the belief that Anne was not indifferent
to his regard. He had been relating
to her of Ler request, his experience
with difleren national characters with
%%horn he had met, speaking of their
peculiarities, and describing the various
scenic effects of dific . .rent countries.—
Anne sat near a sweet-scented geranium,
whose leaves she was most industrious
ly engaged in destroying. Ferris bend
ing close to her ear said :
Anne, will von pluck me that rose
as a token of - - affection? you must
know how ardent is mine for vou=or
stop, dearest, behind it blows the can
dy-tuft. You know the mystic lan
guage of both, will you choose and give
me one r,
Hush, hush, Ferris," said' the
blushing and trembling girl, handing
him the rose.
This passed when the attention of
the company present was drawn to
some engaging object. Never before
had Ferris received any evidence of-
A nne's love, save from her tell-tale eves.
The flower was placed next to his
heart, and he left the appartment. He
had proceeded but a few yards from
the house, when he was accosted by a
poor mendicant, clothed in rags, who
was exposed at that late hour of the
night, to the inclernency'of the season.
•• Pray, sir," said the beggar to Fer
ris, can youi give me a trtle ? lam
nearly starved and chilleu through by
this night."
Ferris, after a few moments conver
sation with the beggar, for his was not
the heart to turn away from the suffer
ings of a fellow creature, and handing
him a purse containing five or six dol
lars, he urged him to seek immediate
shelter anefood. The beggar blessed
him and passed on.
A few nights subsequent to this oc
casion, lie was again at her father's
house. Mrs. ‘, H. , Anne's mo
ther, received him as she aid most of
her visitors, with a somewhat constrain
ed and distant welcome. Being a wo
man of no convers.itional powers,she al
ways retired quite early, conducting
her intercourse with society in the
most formal manner. Ferris wasmuch
surprised that Mr. 11 had taken
no particular notice of his intimacy at
his house, for lie very seldom saw him,
and when he did so, he would see the
old man's eyes bent sternly upon him,
in anything but a friendly and inviting
spirit. In this dilemma, he was at a
loss what course to pursue ; heretofore
he had despaired of ever gaining Anne's
acknowledgement of affection for him,
and now that he had succeeded in this,
he was equally distant from the goal
of his happiness, for his better judg
ment told him that the consent of her
parents could never be obtained. On
this occasion, he had taken his leave
as usual, when he was met by the beg
gar of the former night, who again so
licited alms, declaring that he could
find no one else to assist him, and that
the money he had before bestowed up
on him, had been expended for food
and rent of a miserable cellar where he
lodged.
Again Ferris placed a purse in the
poor man's hands, at the same, time
telling him he was himself poor, and
constrained to the practice of rigid
economy in the support of those de
pendent open him. Ile left the beggar
and passed on his way, happy in hay-,
ing contributed to the alleviation of hu
man suffering.
Not long subsequent, Ferris called
one evening at the house of Mr. H—,
and fortunately found Anne and her
father alone, the former engaged upon
a piece of embroidery of a new pattern,
and the latter poring over a volume of
ancient philosophy. On his entrance
the old gentleman took ho tarther ap
parent notice of hint, than ' an inclina
tion of the head and goad evening,
sir." He took a chair by Anne's side,
and told her of his love in low but 4r
dent tones, begging permission to speak
to her father upon the subject.
Oh he will not hear a word of he
matter, I know," said the. sorrow 0g
girl. No longer ago than yesterday
he spoke to me relative to a connexion
with R—; I can never love but
one," said the beauty, giving him her
hand.
Ferris could hear this suspense no
longer ; in fact, the hint relative to her
alliance with another spurred . him to
action. He proceeded to that part of
the room where Mr. H— sat, and
after some few introductory remarks,
said :
You have doubtless obierved,- sir,
my intimacy in your family for more
than.a year past: From the fact that
you did not object to my attentions to
your daughter, I have been. led to hope
that it might not be altogether against
your wishei. May I ask, sir, with
due respect, your opinion in this mat
ter."
" I have often seen you here," re
plied Mr. H—, and have found no
reason to object to your visits, sir."
Indeed, sir, your are very kind.—
I have neither fortune nor rank to offer
your daughter, but gtill, emboldened
by loVe, I ask you. for her hand,"
• The old man laid by his book, and
rOmoving his spectacles, asked,
.'.hoes the lady sanction this re
quest ?"
She does."
Have you thought well of your
proposal ?"
" I have."
" And you ask—"
" Your daughter's hand."
It is yours," said the old man.
Ferris sprang astonished to his feet,
saying,
• I hardly know how to receive your
kindness, sir ; I had looked for differ
ent treatment."
.‘ Listen, young man," said the fa
thee, ‘• do you think I should have al
lowed you to become intimate in my
family without first knowing your
character ? Do you think I should
have given you this precious child (and
here he placed her hand in Ferris) to
you before I had proved you ? No,
sir, out, of Anne's many suitors from
the wealthy and highest in society, I
long since selected you as one in whom
I could feel confidence.' The world
call me a cold and calculating wan ;
perhaps I am so ; but I had a duty to
perform to him who had entrusted me
with the happiness of this blessed child;
1 have endeavored to discharge that
trust faithfully ; the dictates. of pride
may have been counterbalanc'ed by a
desire for my daughter's happiness.—
I chose you first—she has since volun
tarily done so. I know your life and
habits—you means and prospects-=you
need tell me nothing. With your wife
you will receive an ample fortune ; the
dutiful son and affectionate brother can
not but make a kind husband. But
stay," said the old man. 1 will be with
you in a moment," and he left the lo
vers toaether.
• The story cl your marriage with
R , was only to try your heart,
then, and thicken the plot," said Ferris
to the blushing girl.
At this moment the door opened, and
the beggar whom Ferris - had twice re
lieved, entered. Stepping up to Ferris,
he solicited charity. Anne recoiled at
first at. the dejected appearance and
poverty-stricken looks of the intruder,
while Ferris asked in astonishment
how he gained entrance into the house.
In a moment the figure rose to a stately
height, and casting off the disguise it
had worn, discovered the person of
Anne's father.
The astonishment of the lovers can'
hardly be conceived.
" I had determined." said the father,
addressing Ferris, "after I had other
wise proved your character, to test one
virtue, which of all others is the great
est—CHAßlTY. Had you failed in that,
you would have - also failed with me in
this purpose of marriage. You were
weighed in the balance, and not found
wanting ; here is your purse ; it con
tained six dollars when you gave it to
the poor beggar in the street—it now
contains six thousand; and here is the
second that contained a check for five
dollars, which is now multiplied by
thousands. Nay," said the old man,
as Ferris was about - to speak, " there's .
no need of explanation—it is a fair bu
siness transaction."
This was, of course, all a mystery to
Anne—but when explained, added still
more to her love for her future hus
band.
Ferris and Anne were soon married,
and one stately mansion in Beacon
street, serves as a home for mother.
sister wile. and all. Gossip said l (and
truly for once) that old Mr. 11—,.
having money enough. had not sou g ht
to add more to the fortune he s;nould
leave his child, by forming an alliance
with gold, but had sought and found
what was more valuable—true merit.
"And new abideth with, Hope, and
Charity—these three; but the greatest
of these is Chcrit,-,"
A TENDER liEART.-.1. certain Man
in Vermont once said that his children
were the most tender-hearted beings
that he ever c knew, and on being asked
what made him think so, said :•• because
they always cfy when Fask them to get
a bucket of water."
ANY TIME is the wort kind of lute . ;
because it is the thief that titeals-awav
the best mile, and leaves our duty to be
performed at no time
EUZ 116 lab CSC' QUatteat a 0600.
Sagacity of Foxes:
Foxesmtter most expressive sounds'
and their' young are perfectly acquain
ted with them. They vary their tones'
accoti•di'ng to circumstances. Some
times,they bark and yelp, and at others
they are said to utter a melancholy cry,.
like. that of a peacock. They have al
so a peculiar cry when suffering from•
pain, but they never utter any, wren in'
the agonies of death. A celebrated
poacher. and taker of foxes, now enga
ged in a better calling, informed me
that when he had been in the woods at
night, the howl of foxes became inces
sant. At that time the cubs would
come fearlessly out of earths - ; but if
the old ones, aware of his being in the
woad, uttered a peculiar sfiarp_ scream.
they immediately retired into them, and
nothing would then induce them rto
come out. He told me that - he had
been for hours in a tree, waiting to see
if the cubs would come out, and fall-in
to a hole he had dug, at the mouth of
the earth, and baited with a fowl; but
they never stirred once after they had'
heard the scream of the old foxes.
His only chance of taking them was
by poisoning
,the old ones, which he
did : with arsenic, rubbed into the
paunch_ of a fresh killed animal. When
they are dead, hunger at length drove
the cubs out, and they were taken eith
er in nets or the pitfall. When he had
accidentally secured a young fox, with
out-destroying the parents, these, on
hearing the cry of their cub, would
come almost up to him, evincing the
greatest anxiety and distress, and utter
ing plaintive cries. Indeed, the affec
tion of foxes for their young is quite
extraordinary, and the person I 'have
referred to, assured me, that, when they
have considered their cubs to be in dan
ger, or the place of their. retreat to
have been discoVered, they . have con
veyed them to considerable distances
in their mouth. Foxes have so much
sense, that when infested with fleas,
they have been known to'cover them ,
selves with water except their head, in
which place the fleas generally took
shelter, and from whence they were
readily shaken oin In doing this, they
retreat gently back into the water.
ABMME at Midnight.
We pass/ the night on the' field of
battle, a night dark and starless; the
heavens were indeed clothed with
black, and a heavy atmosphere, lower
ing and gloomy, spread like a pall over
the dead and dying, not a breath of air
moved, and the groans of the wounded
sounded through the stillness with a
melancholy cadence, no words can
convey ! Far where away in the dis.
Lance, the moving light, marked fugi ,
live parties went in search of theircom
rades. Napoleon. did not leave the
saddle till nigh morning—he went, fol-.
towed by an ambuance, hillier and
thither over the. plain recalling the
names of the several .regiments, enu
merating their deeds of prowess and
even asking for many of the soldiers
by name. He .ordered large fires to
be lighted throughout the field, and
•where medical assistance could no; be
procured, the officers of the staff might
be seen covering the wounded with
great cloaks, and rendering them such
aid as lay in their power. Dreadful as
the picture was—tearful reverse to the
gorgeous splendor of the vast army the
morning sun had shown upon in all the
strength of spirit—yet even here was
there much.to make one feel that war
is not bereft of humanizing influence.
How many a soldier did I find that
night blackened with powder, his
clothes torn and. ragged with shot, sit
ling beside a wounded comrade, now
wetting his lip with a draughti—now
cheering his heart with words of corn=
fort. Many themselves wounded, were
tending G`thers, less able to assist them
selves, Acts of kindness and self de
vo`.;on—iio less in number than-those,
of heroism 'and courage were met with,,
at every step ;- while, among sufferers
I there lived a
. spirit of enthusiasm that
seemed to lighter.- the worst pangs at
their agony. Many would cry out as
passed., to know the late ot• the day,
land what became or this regiment or
l that battalion.
Others could but. articulate a faint
Live Empertter, which in the inter
val of pain they kept repeating as
though it was a charm against suffer
ing. " What Says Lepitit CorPortil"
—the Little Corporal, as they called
Napoleon--" is he content with us?"
None were insensible to the glorious
issue of that day, nor amid all his ago
ny of death dealt out in every shape of
horror and misery did I hear one word
of anger or rebuke to him for whose
ambition they had shed their. heart's
Ectid.—Jevrnal of a Officer.
Reg ego.