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M
iDeuota to News, fiterature, poetru, Science, Mccl)anics, 'Agriculture, the Eliffusion of Useful Jnformation, General 3ntelligcncc, Amusement, Markets, &c.
THE LEHIGH REGISTER,
Is published in the- Borough of Allentown, Lehigh
County, Pa., every Thursday
BX A.IIGUSTUS L. RUBE,
, Atsl. 50 per annum, payable in advance, and
$I 00 if riot paid until the end of the year. No
papet hscontllfiltd,ilhtil all arrearages are paid,
except at the option of the propriety.
4invanxissmaars, making not more than one
hquare,will be inserted three times for one dollar
and for every subsequent insertion twenty-five
cents. Larger advertisements charged in the
same proportion. Those not exceeding ten lines,
will be charged seventy-five cents,and those mak
ing six lines or less,three insertions for 50 centsl
117' A liberal deduction will be made to those
who advertise by the year.
Cir Office in Hamilton Street, one door
of. German Reformed Church, and nearly
opposite the "Friedensbothe Office."
poetical IDepartinent.
(From the New York Tribune.)
Song of the Mariner's Needle
Ho! burnish well, ye cunning hands!
A palace home for me.
For I would ride in regal state
Across the briny sea.
Bring ivory from the Indian main .
To-pave-my-mystic-floor,
And make my dome of crystal sheen,
My walls of shining ore.
Now mount the wave, ye fearful ones!
Though raging storms assail
My sparry lance o'ercometh all—
My strength will never fail.
The storm fiend wraps his murky clouds
Around your trembling sight,
But I can pierce that gloomy veil
And soar beyond the night. .
The lone Enchantress of the Deep, '
I rule its boist'rous realm
Watch ye my lithe and quiv'ring wand
To guide your straining helm.
Ay, bend your anxious gaze on me
The polar Star is dim,
And driven darkness is awake
With Ocean's awful hymn !
For I commune with spirit forms
Within my wizzard cell,
And mantling midnight melts before
The magic of my spell.
By many long, enduring links
I.clasp the Nothern Star,—
And on that wiry, shadowed chain
I visit her afar.
And sapient eyes have watched me long,
And Science has grown gray.
And still ye dream not how nor why
I keep my wondrous way.
Ye know me as ye know the storm.
That heaps your heaving path,
Ye love me though ' since mine is riot
The mystery of wrathl
(From•Sariain's Union Magazine.)
The Return.
The gale of dawn was breathing
Across the forest scene,
The snowy mist was wreathing
Amid the valleys green':
Upon a tower ascending
A gentle maiden stood,
Her eyes of beauty bending
Far over vale and wood.
In glades where sunbeams gliding,
Shed gleams of sparkling day,
She sees her lover riding
Before the hunter gay.
ens noon, and silence hovers
Beneath the glowing sky,
Mark ! hark ! from leafy covers
She hails his beagles cry:
The evening shades are streaming
Afar o'er lake aroi plain,
Her dark bit* eyes are beaming,
He comes, he comes again.
SIM Mats the bugle sounding,
The' clanging drawbridge falls;
Her heart With jby is bounding
Amid KM father's halls:
Noblemen.
The noblest men I know on Earth
Are men whose hands are brown with• toil;.
Who, backed by no ancestral valves,.
Hew down the woods, and . till the Soil,
And win thereby a prouder fame
Than follows king or warrior's name.
The working men! whate'er tliViV task,.
To carve the stone, or bear the
They ,wear upon. their honest bOodis
The'royal stamp and,seal of God
And It ighter are their drops of sweat
Than dimonds in a coronet !
God bless the noble working men'.
Who rear the cities ofthe.plain ;'
Who dig the mines, and build• the ships,•
And drive the Commerce of the main
Ood bless them! for their swarthy hands
Have wrought the gtory of all lands.
(From Holden's Dollar illagaine.)
To C—, with a Rosary.
I send thee love a sacred gift, •
Oft numbering o'er and o'er,
These beads, I've linked with thy dear name
Fond prayers that heaven -ward soar.
For thoughts of thee unseal my heart,
Its secret founts unlock,
And for Hope's bright flood leaps,as erst,
The stream from Herob's rock !
I've pray'd o're them long life to thee!
Long life my bright eyed one—
Ay, though dark clouds may ofttitnes flirt
Between thee and the sun.
And still I did not crave for thee,
Freedom from gift and care,
Though sorrows must perfect thy faith,
And faith forbibs despair.
I have not asked . thy sunlit dreams
May all prove brightly true,
I have not prayed, my love, that wealth
And pride, may circle you!
Nor that the glorious promise given.
Of beauty, true may be.
Such common gifts are all too pour,
Too poor my love for thee!
I know there's danger to the heart
Bound to the hashing eye,
I know that wealth brings in her hand
Dream woes t tat pass not by ;
So when I thought upon thy youth,
Thy truth and purity,
I cried, great God preserve her thus
Through time, fur Heaven, fur thee !
I ask not for the leaves of Fame,
To twine them in thy hair,
They could not make thy life more calni,
Thy brow more free from care.
Forgive ! I prayed man ne'er might bend
In mad idolatry,
To kindle earth's fierce fires between
Heaven's holier light, and thee!
O'er every bead my heart besought— •
..Give her, oh gracious Lotd,
A soul-harp set apart to Thee,
With not one tuneless chord.
God ! let thy perfect love be hers,
When from youth's dream she wakes,
Be Thou her guide through time's dark hours,
Till the glad morning breaks!"
Dear friend no superstition prompts
These prayers, this gift to thee;
To God alone I've raised my voice,
To Him bent down my knee!
Oft let thy gentle eyes glance o'er
These beads, tis laden cross,
Remember love, they picture that
Without which, life were loss!
Song of the American Editor
I'm of the Press! I'm of the Press!
My throne, a simple chair:
I ask no other majesty
'l'han strikes the gazer there.
The horse of fire obeys my rod,
My couriers take the sea ;
The lightning leaves the charm'd cloud
At Art's command for me.
I'm of the Press ! I'm of the Press !
Let Monarchs wear a crown ;
I wave my pen across the page
And crowns have tumbled down.
The world rolls on, the millions stride ;
Without, the tempest rolls—
W ithin,l brood a quiet thought
That changes all the souls.
I'm of the Press! I'm of the Press!
My host embattled types?
With them I quell the tyrant's horde
And rear the stars and stripes.
I give my hand to all the'race,
My altar Freedom's sod;
I say my say, and bend my knee •
Alone, alone to God.
el)c ,fautilp
(rums Holden's Dollar Magazine.)
the Wild Horse and the Indian Chief.
It was in the spring of 1837. In front of
Fort Gibson, a military post, situated on the
borders of the Indian territory, a number of
officers there in garrison, were amusing
themselves with games, races, foot-ball, shoot
ing and boxing, and they seemed heartily
to enjoy the bright sunny day, which after
long storms called the flowers upon the prai
rie again, and decorated the fruit trees, with
tteir first blossoms.
Suddenly an Indian, mounted upon a splen
did snow-white stallion, was seen' galloping
foWards them; along the batiks dr tlie Arkan
sas, close to the edge of the 'stream ; he
checked the foaming, smoking animal near
the group, which soon•gathered around him;
admiring both horse and horseman, He
had caught the beast only tWo Clays before
upon therairie, *here it was roaming in
native. Wi ldness, and he , Was riding ho
said, to the settlements, in older to barter it
for the cormuoditiet With Whisk the peat
savage bad obce . bien unacquainted, bat
ALLENTOWN, LEHIGH COUNTY, PA., NOVEMBER 1, 1849.
which now, alas, are indispensable to him.
"What ! to the settlements ?" cried a Cap
tain of dragoons, named Brown, as soon as
he heard of the red man's purpose. ulrOu
are going to the settlements, Kolibri ? The
! what would the people there do With
such a noble drama! ? Come here, Indian,
I will buy him of you, but—you must first
shoot me a buffalo, from his back, without
losing your seat. If you can do that, I will
give you the half of what you ask, and my
doubled-barreled gun into the bargain.
What say you ?' ,
A smile of mockery played over the Indi
ans lips as he listened to these conditions.
Lose his seat ! The thought was an insult.
and his vanity was doubly irritated at hear
ing a white man cast a doubt upon his horse
manship.
"Let the long-knife," he replied, gloomi
ly, "ride this mnstang only a single time,
before that buffalo skin, that is spread out
yonder, and it he does not then kiss his
mother, I will try what I can do upon that
skin that covers the live buffalo."
"Good ! excellent !" cried the bystand
ers ; and Captain Brown, with a laugh, ac
cepted the Indian's challenge.
"Good, Kolibri !" he said, while . his ser
vant brought a saddle and bridle. "I will
do what Lean : but as you know how to
manage horses better than any
.white man
that 1 ever saw, I should like to have you
put-this-gearupon-the-restive-creature.
The Indian smiled grimly at the flattery,
beckoned to one of the soldiers to step for
ward, and directed him to hold the horse's
head, while, in spite of his kicking and
plunging, he put saddle and bridle upon
the rearing, stamping animal.—He then took
the horse by the bridle, but murmured with ,
a scornful glance at the saddle "Bad thing
to spare horse—bad thing to spare rider— ,
white man's invention plagues man and
beast I" •
In the mean while Brown, who was an
excellent horseman, having, with an expe
rienced glance, satisfied himself that every
thing was in order, grasped the bridle, and
leaped lightly into the saddle.
The Indian, at once, set the snorting ani
mal at liberty, and it bounded away like the
wind, leaping and plunging, as if rettolved
to unseat its rider. But the bridle was in
the hands of a master ; it was, in truth, a
charming spectacle to see the prudence,
firmness, and dexterity with which the cap
tain initiated the noble, but restive animal
into the mysteries of the snaffle. After its
headlong fire had somewhat abated, and be
fore he touched it with the spur, .he rode it
slowly and quietly back and forth' upon the
prairie, and Kolibri watched, with admire
ing saticfaction, the skill and gentleness
.with which the captain managed the untu
tored beast.
After having ridden the horse around in
a wide circle, Captain Brown galloped back
towards the spectators, and then turned the
animal's head, suddenly and sharply, to
wards the frame, upon which hung a' fresh
and still bleeding buffalo skin, spread out to
dry. his true, a slight elevation of the soil,
as yet, prevented the horse from seeing it,
but he, doubtless, scented it ; for he stop
ped short, snorting and stamping, and drew
in his finely arched neck.—But a practised
and skilful horseman like Captain Brown
cared but little for the fear or anger. or the
foaming stallion; a slight touch of the spur
sent him leaping furiously forward, and, at
the third bound, he found himself close and
directly before the object of his aversion and
terror.
Fora moment a 'cloud of dust hid man
and horse; when it dissappeared, Captain
Brown was seen as firmly seated in the sad
dle as ever.,
Laughing, he now galloped back the fly
ing steed to his comrades, and gave the bri
dle into the hands of the Indian, who strok
ed and patted the animal and led him care
fully, to and fro, upon the plain,
"The savage has acquired a good idea of
your horsemanship, captain !" said one of
the officers. "he was astonished and delight
ed to see you manage the beast with such
ease."
"Yes it is singular" replied Brown, "that
so shrewed an Indian does not seem to un
derstand how to anticipate the movements
of his horse, as well as a white man; who is a
practised rider.—All he thinks of is, to guide
and restrain his horse, to keep his seat, and
to shoot game ebc., even from the back of
the animal, when at full speed—while, per
haps, at the very moment, that he leans to
-one side for this purpose, the horse starts
toward the other, and then he is almost sure
to be thrown."
44 do. not quite comprehend you," said
the officer, who had been educated at the
military school at West Point, and who had
but. lately been transferred to these distant
Western regions,
"Weli, listen then !" said Etiown ; "when
for example, you bend sidewise from the
saddle, to take aim at any object, while ri
ding, at full speed, and the horse 'shin's' to
wards the other side, or leaps backward, it
is pretty plain that horse and man must part.'
"Ent how do you explain that ? I do not
understand—"
"Explain to' ma fi'rat',', said Vrowa, "hoe
it is that you can place a glass, filled with
water, in a bucket, and swing it round your
head, without spiting a drop ?"
"Why, the water keeps its place by the
pressure of the atmosphere, and the centri
fugal force."
- "And the rider loses his place exactly by
the same law," replied Brown, drily.
"You will find it hard to prove that," re
plied the young officer, warmly. "The glass
is an inanimate body ; a man, on the con
trary, is a living being, endowed with motion;
he.can change his position, and accommo
date his movements to those of the horse If
your remark is more than a mere supposi
tion, we should certainly find it confirmed
in the works of the old masters, and still, I
have never heard of this rule, neither have
I seen it' represented in any paintings'in the
chief cities of Enrope."
"I have never crossed the Atlantic," re
plied Brown, modestly, "and, except the bat
tle of Bunker!s Hill, and the battle of New-
Orleans, which hang in my quarters, I have
never seen many pictures or works, as you
call them. The New York Spirit of ,the
Times sends us, now and then, pictures of
horses, down here in these regions. But
stay ! now that you talk of
,old paintings, I
remember one that I saw once ; it was on
one of those floating museums; as they call
them, on the Mississippi. But if you be
lieve all you see on those things, you would
beleive that the moon was a cheese. There
were--Indians-with -wooly heads like niggitrs,
and bears with long tails ; now people that
paint men and bears in that way,can't know
much about horses."
"An old painting, in a floating Museum,
on the Mississippi ?" cried the young lieu
tenant from West Point, shocked at the ig
ranee of his superior officer.
"To be sure, and a very old one too," re
joined the captain. "The gilt frame around •
it was as black as my hat, and the picture
itself looked as if it bad lain time out of mind
in tobacco juice."
"A painting of one of the old masters !"
cried the young man, unable to recover from
his astonishment.
"Why, to oivn the truth," replied Brown,
"I did not take much trouble to find out
who had painted it, but it was old enough,
and belonged to an old fellow ; so far as I
know or care, it may have been Painted by
one of his great-grandfather's niggers—it's
like enough."
A sudden exclamation from Kolibri inter
rupted this grave dissertation upon arts and
artists ; he was pointing towards the hori
zon. The officers had scarcely looked in
that direction toward which his arm was ex
tended, when the joyous cry—"Buflaloes !
by all that lives ! a herd of buffitkies'!" ech
oed from mouth to mouth,
"It is impossible !" cried Captain Brown.
—"By heaven, it can't be ! Thunder and
Lightning !so near, at this season. My
horse here, my lad ! Quick fellow ! buffa
loes so near the fort at this time of the year.
Glorious! and, in fact; the cloud of dust
yonder is almost too thick for a band of tra
ders. What say you to it,Kolibri, what say
you, Indian."
The young warrior had, in the mean while,
removed the saddle and bridle from the no
ble animal, and before replying he leaped
upon its back, and gazed attentively across
the prairie.
•Speak, Indian ! speak !" exclaimed the
captain, with increasing impatience, "what
sees Kolibri ?" .
""He sees Captain Brown's douled barrel
led gun in his wigwam, and much buffalo
meat for the soldiers before sundown,"
"Away then !" exclaimed Brown, spring
ing quickly into the saddle. "if that's the
case, I must keep as close as possible to thjs
white mustangto see how he stands the trial."
The Indian slackened the bridle to his
wild horse, and Captain Brown, who was
admirably mounted, spurred closely upon
the traces of the chief. . •
Followed by the remaining offieers, they
soon reached the herd, which, on perceiving
their ruminants, at once took to flight. The
horses gained upon them, however. Koli
bri seemed, at first, to have selected a fat
young cow for his victim, but,. from a leel
ing of pride, he scorned the easy prey, and
spurred furiously after the leader of the buf
faloes, an enormous bull. By thus aiming
at the head of the herd, be caused the beasts
to dispense, in wild confusion, over the plain,
and the chase became scattered. But, in
the midst of this disorder, Kolibri still pur
sued the victim that he had selected. He
spurred his steed along its flanks, waiting
for a favorable opportunity to shoot.—Three
times he had raised his bow, but as often,
husbanding his arrows in true Indian wise, he
had refrained, seeking a sure and deadly aim.
The•herd now plunged across a marshy
spot of ground and the Indian's horse, al
though not wearied, had lost somewhat of
its wild impetuosity, and obeyed more wil
lingly the .sure hand of its rider. Dashing
through the breaking reeds, at the side of
the enormous animal, the noble beast found
dry and firm soil beneath his feet, almost
the same moment that the buffalo extricated
itself froth the marsh, but, on reaching solid
ground, the latter seemed to have gained
new courage it ..wheeled suddenly, and
lowering its shaggy head towards his pur
suer, it, in its turn, became the adeaillant.
This movement determined the chief to
Shoot. Never had an Indian taken surer
aim, never had a bOW-string been drawn
with a firmer hand,' never did more agile
lirribs press the flanks of a noble, Wildly
rushing steed—when, on the right hand, a
second buffalo, which the officers were hunt
ing before them, dashed onward close be
hind him ; but the Indian had an eye for
his victim alone.—Raising his bow, he drew
the string to his shoulder and the deadly
arrow pierced the heart of the wild animal,
the shaft burying itself in the flesh to its
feather-head. At the very moment that
the bold son of the prairie took a mortal aim
at his enemy, and bending sideway to the
right, dispatched his fatal weapon, his steed,
already affrighted at the tumult around him,
scented the buffalo that was thundering on
ward in his rear.—With a sudden, tremb
ling start he leaped aside to the left, and the
chief, forgetting his seat at the moment, or,
perhaps, unable :o preserve it, was hurled,
from the saddle, upon the horns of the furi
ous animal, which was now in the act of
passing him.
The nextmoment Captain Brown reach
ed him, but all was over. Near the dead
buffalo lay the pride of his nation, the young
and dauntless chieftain of the Cumanches.
His blood was mingled with that of its victim.
The Outcast,
A few days ago as I was taking MY ac
customed morning's walk, in a mild Octo
ber morning, in the suburbs whereof I ara.
a denizen, I found myself, on a sudden, in
the open country. The melancholy land
scape of Autumn stretched around ; and the
bright hues which had characterized the
season were beginning to disappear. Noth•
ing disturbed my meditations, except the
passage of some early market man or wo
man, hieing with their little world of cares
and hens to the mart of the town. I wan
dered uneonciously onward, until I discov
reed that I was, as it were in the midst ofa
crowd, fronting a low, time-worn tenement.
A few vehicles were drawn up around it,
and seeing a medical friend whom I knew,
I inquired the cause °Nile assembly. He
informed me that a young girl had commit
ted suicide, and was then lying dead in an
upper apartment. Moved with sorrowful
curiosity, I complied with his request to en
ter. In one apartment were several fe
males in tears and distress, in another, the
witnesses and members of the coroner's ju
ry. Ascending -the staircase, I found my
self in the presence of the Dead ! of one,
who, before the day of nothingness had
swept the lines of beauty from her features,
was lying on a pallet of straw, pale in dis
solution. The sight was mournful and sol
emn. Her• face had lingering about it
all the features of beauty ; its ensign was
still floating above the voiceless lip, and the
deep sealed eye. Heavy masses of rich au
burn hair lay on each of her snowy temples,
a faint hue lingered about her cheeks ; but
the foamy and purple lips indicated how vi
olent a death she had died. By the bed
side lay a half eaten apple, and a large
rhomboid of corrosive sublimate. Particles
of this deadly poison' were still on the fruit.
Thus the life-weary taker had ended her
days. I looked out 'upon the gloomy %Vast°
of country over which she had .gazed her
last, at twilight, the evening before, and
tried to realize what Must have been the
depth - of agony which possessed her spirit
then. How must her bruised heart have
throbbed with misery !—how d rlr must
have been her soul!—like that of the Medea
of Euripides, when she prepared the deadly
garments for her rival, and dedicated to
death the children of her womb. Thought
of the cause now agitated my mind. She
had confided, and been betrayed. Cruelty
and abuse had been her lot ; but amidst all
she had been constant and devoted. Her
hands were clasped as if in . prayer ;, and the
potent poison had overcome her system ere
she could disunite them.
There are moments when the mysteries
of eternity throng so rapidly upon our ima
gination that we live years of contemplation
in their little round. This was the case
with me. There lay the prostrate form of
one 'whose only crime had been, that she
had "loved, not wisely, but too well," one
who stung to die heart by the destroyer of
her peace, and now determined to lay down
her arching hoed and sorrowful bosom in
the rest of the grave.
As I stood gazing at the lifeless object be.
fore me—interrupted only by the pitying
ejaculations of the few that were present, or
the sobs of those who were below—l was re
quested by the surgeon in attendance, as a
personal favor to go in his private carriage
to the residence of the father of the deceas
ed, and apprise him of the fatal occurrence,
of which he was still ignorant. Receiving
my directions, I went. I drove up to a
handsome dwelling in a. distant street, and
was ushered by a servant into a beautiful
drawing room, Where a gloWing • fire was
burning in the grate. Everything around
betokened ease and plenty if not opulence..
The folding doors of the parlor soon opened'.
and the warm air from an adjoining ele
gant apartment came in front another fire. •
The father 'stood' before me. He Was a
reiscrectable looking person, but wore about
NUMBER 4.
him the marks of
.violent passions, and an
indomitable will.
It was by slow and painful degrees that I
communicated to him the horrid death of
his child. When I had . tinburthened my
mind and heart, he seemed like a statue of
marble for a moment ; and then sinking upon
an ottoman, he gave way to the agony of
his soul, his chest heaved with his deep=
drawn sighs, his lips faltered, and tears,
stern tears, "like the first drops - of a thundick
shower," came to his eye.
I saw him stand a few minutes after; by
the corpse of his daughter. Words cannot,
describe the scene.
The history of her sorrows and fate nifty
be briefly told. She was their first born ;
was beloved—idolized. When brothers
and sisters were growing up and around
her, she was favored of all.
At last her mother died. She was just
budding into womanhood, when this event
took place. After the funeral rites, she
found that she Wes destined to fill her moth
er's place, so fares the guardianship and
care of her young brothers and sisters were
concerned. She knew the stern disposition
and headstrong passions of her parent, and
she strove to the utmost to meet his wished
and oblige his will. Soon, however, his
demeanor began to change. He insisted
that she was unable to perform the duties
required, and a house-keeper was procur
ed—one, it seems, not dissimilar to the_eol.:_
ebrated Original mentioned by Byron. She
was overbearing and vulgar. By degrees,
the daughter perceived too surely that her
mother's place was filled to the utmost, in
all its relations, by a dishonest and unholy
woman. She suffered in silence; she
blushed nt her own degredatkin, through dui
recklessness of her parent, but she breathed
not a word. At last her silence was imput
ed to insubordinate Unger: she was pro.
nounced incorrigible, and driven frOm her
father's house—an outcast !
Hitherto she had been worthy and limo.:
cent. But evil examples and a just filial
anger, fired her soul. She sought the house
of a friend, a close intimate of her mother's,
where she lived as an assistant in the light
er and more elegant duties of a household.
By degrees, her beauty attracted the atten
tion of a youth, the son of her protectress.
She loved :she was beset with solemn vows,
and an unbroken train of temptations ; until;
finally she was betrayed ; and unable to bat
tle against her own remorse, and the thou.:
sand shames that rained on her defence
less head, she sought the drug and thO
grave
Now, that for which I do somewhat abate
my admiration of women, is this. They
condemn all derelictions from duty, without
discrimination. In a case like the present;
they make no distinction; they see the
bruised heart sink into the dust with scarce;
ly.an expression of regret, and hear the.re
port that . a sister spirit has rushed, mum;
nainted and unannealcd into the presence'
of its God, without one throb of pity. Why
this inexorable judgment? Why this ab
sence of extenuating reasons ? Why is it;
with them, that
"Every wne a tear can claim,
Except an erring sister's shame."
I pretend not to tell ; but if their opinions
are severe, what shall be said of those fiends
in human form, who poison the fountains of
virtue in the innocent bosom ; whose lips
breathe the black lie, and the broken vow ?
Is there a punishment too great to be inflict
ed upon the villian Who approaches the fair,
fabric of virtue only to leave it in ruin.and
desolation ? Is hell too much ? No ! To
repay the love which one has himself atlalt•
ened, with dinrace and scorn ; to drive the
spirit one has polluted into the presence of
that Creator from whom it came bright and
unsullied; what guilt can be greater in all
the annali of crime?
My heart burns with indignation . '
dwell on the theme. How many a Wretc h
among the youth of our cities, is.dashing in
the beau mode, whose true place:is the pen:
itennary ; whose only relief from its walls,
is the prodigal love of some violated virgin
who has suffered long and is kind ! These .
are solemn but almost interdicted trulths:
there are some whom I knoll . ) of this' detest
able class; men who will bow and, senti
mentalize, and flourish at soirees and assem
blies,. at operas and theatre's, who have va
liently spent year's of their worthless and
spendthrift lives in daily anctnightly endea
vors to compass the honor of some lowly
and lovely one, whom ..nature made Weak,
trusting her defence to man's generosity.;'.
whose happiness was the end and aim of
loving parents, and whose brow her dis
honor has laid in the tomb
Let me not he understood as the apologist
of guilt. I reverence the sweetness and ma:
jesty of virtue, but I love the sway of jus
tice, I would worn the tender sex against
the easy prejudice which lends them to visit
the sins of the voluptuous offender of the
moral law upon the victim, whom only years
of systematic villany could bring within his
foils ; who makes the holiest passion sub
servient to the establishment of the unholi
est ; until at the last, honor, conscience,
hope, althea is Worth possessing is banish
ed from that breast which is found eo.pute,
and left corrupted and in shame. • .
El