OLUMBIA DEMOCRAT.
" have sworn upon the AHar of God, eternal hostility to every form of Tyranny over the Mind of Man." Thomas Jefferson.
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY II. WEBB.
Volume III.
BliOOMSBURG, COLOMBIA COUNTY, PA. SATURDAY, JULY 6, 1839.
Number HO.
1
I
11
in)
lIlS
OFFICE OF THE DEMOCRAT,
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POETRY
I WONDER WHO HE'LL MARRY.
To save my life, I can't tell why
I feel so fond of Harry;
He's handsome and he's rich 'tis true
I wonder who ho'H marry !
He sometimes goes to see Jano Smith,
But she's so light and airy,
I know he does not think of her
I wonder who he'll marry !
And thero is lovely Annette Lyle,
Who waltzes like a fairy,
At balls he seems so fond of her
I wonder who ho'H marry !
And then he seems so intimate,
And likes 1iis friends to carry,
And introduce to Betsey Jone's
I wonder who he'll marry 1
And then again I hear it hinted,
He loves Miss Emmy Barry,
Who's old enough to be his Ma
I wonder who he'll marry !
And then he gallants me homo,
He never fails to tarry,
And acts so like a lover does
I wonder who he'll marry I
EOaSCES35nalEs.E3,3SXErSa
THE RUSTIC WREATH.
I had taken refuge in. a harvest field be
longing to my good neighbor, Farmer Ores
well. A beautiful child lay on the ground,
t some little distance, whilst a young girl,
testing from thelabor of reaping, was twist
ing a rustic wreath, enamelled corn-flowers,
brilliant poppies, snow white lily-bines, and
light, fragile hare bells, mingled with tufts
of iho richest wheat-ears around its hat.
Therc.was something in the tender yonth-
Tulness of these two innocent creatures, in
the nrcttv. thoue i somewhat lantastic, oc-
pupation of the girl, the fresh wild flowers,
ithe ripe and swelling corn, that harmonized
with tlio season and the hour, and conjured
up memories of "Disand Proserpine," and
of all that is gotgeous and graceful in old
mythology; of the lovely Lavinia our own
poet, and of the subject of that final pasto
ral in Iho world, tlio far lovlier Ruth. But
these fanciful associations soon vanished be
fore the real sympathy excited by the actors
jof the scene, both of whom were known
;lo me, and both objects of a sincere and
ively interest.
Phe young Girl, Dora Oreswell, was
he oiphan nieco of one of tho wealthiest
lyeomen in our partof tlio world, tho only
child of his only brother, and having lost
both her parents whilst still an infant, had
reared by her widowed uncle, and
itarefully as his own son, 'Walter. Ho said
hat ho loved her quite as well perhaps lie
Bovcd her bctter,for although it were impos
sible foi a father not to be proud of the
kid handsome youth who at eighteen had
f man's strength, and a man's stature, warf
he best ringer, the best crilccler, and the
!)et shot in the couuty, yet the fair Dora,
Eho nearly ten years younger' was at once
is handmaid, hi housekeeper, his play-
ling, and his companion, was evidently
the very apple tt his eye. Our good far
mer vaunted her accomplishments as men
of his classes arc wont to boast of a high
bred horse or a favourite greyhound. She
could make a shirt and a pudding, darn
stockings, rear poultry, keep accounts, and
read the newspaper; was as famous for
gooseberry wine as Mrs. Primrose, and
could compound a syllabub with any dairy
woman in tho county. There was not such
a handy little creature any where; so
thoughtful and trusty about the house, and
yet out of doors, as gay as a lark, and as
wild as the wind: nobody waslikohis Dora.
So said and so thought Farmer Crcsswell ;
and before Dora was ten years old, he had
resolved, that in due time, she should mar
ry his son Walter, and had informed both
parties of his intention.
Now, Farmer Cresswell's intentions
were well known to be as unchangeable as
the laws of tho Modes and Persians. He
was a fair specimen of an English yeoman
a tall, square-buili, muscular man. stout and
active, with a resolute countenance, a keen
eye, and an intelligent smile, his temper
was boisterous and irascible, generous and
kind to those whom he loved but quicK to
take offence, and slow to pardon, expecting
and exacting implicit obedience from all
about him. With all Dora's good gifts, the
sweet and yielding nature of tho gentle and
submissive little girl was, undoubtedly, the
cause of her uncle's partiality. Above all,
he was obstinate in the very highest degree
had never been known to yield a point or
change a resolution ; and the fault was the
more inveterate, because he called it firm
ness, and accounted it a virtue. For the
rest, ho was a person of excellent principle
and perfect integrity; clear-headed, prudent
and sagacious ; fond of agricultural exper
iments, and pursuing them cautiously and
successfully ; a good farmer and a good
man.
His son Walter, who was, in person, a
handsome likeness of his father, resembled
him, also, in many points of character; was
equally obstinate, and far more fiery, hot,
and bold. He loved his pretty cousin much
as he would have loved a favorite sister,
and might very possibly, if let alone, have
becomo attached to her as his father wish
cd: but to be dictated to, to be chained down
to a distant engagement ; to hold himself
bound to a mere child, the very idea was
absuid; & rcstraining.wilh difficulty, an ab
nipt denial he walked down into the village,
predisposed, out of sheer contradiction, to
fall in love with the first young woman
who should come in his way; and he did
fall in love accordingly.
Mary Hay, tho object of his ill-fated pas
sion, was the daughter of the respectable
mistress of a small endowed school at the
other side of the parish. Sho was a deli
cate, interesting creature, with a slight
drooping figure, and a fair downcast fare,
like a snow-drop, forming such a contrast
with her gay and gallant woer, as Love, in
his vagaries, is often pleased to bring to
gcthcr. The courtship was secret and te
dious, and prolonged from months to years;
for Mary shrank from the painful contest
which she know that an avowal of their at
tachment would occasion. At length her
mother died ; and deprived of a home and
maintenance, she reluctantly consented to
private marriage. An immediate discovery
ensued, and was followed by all the evils,
and more than all, that her worst fears had
anticipated. Her husband was turned from
the house of his father; and, in less than
three months, his death, by an inflammato
ry fever, left her a desolate and pennyless
widow ; unowned and unassisted by the
stern parent, on whoso unrelpnting temper
neither tho death of his son, nor tho birth
of his grandson.sccmcd to mako the slightest
impression. But for tho general sympathy
excited by tho deplorable situation and
blameless deportment of the widowed bride,
sho and her infant must havo taken refuge
in the workhouse. The wholo neighbor
hood was zealout to relievo and to servo
them; but their most libctal benefactress,
their most devoted friend, was poor Dora.
Considering her uncle's partiality to herself
as the primary cause of all this misery, she
felt liko a guilty creature; and casting off,
at once her native timidity and habitual sub
mission, she had repeatedly braved his an
ger, by the most earnest supplications for
mercy and for pardon; and, when this pro
ved unavailing, sho tried to mitigate their
distress by all the assistance that her small
means would admit Every shilling of
her pocket-money sho expended on her
dear ciJusins, worked for them, begged for
them, and transferred to them every present
that was mads to herself, from the silk
frock to a penny tartlet. Every thing tht
was her own she gave, but nothing of her un
cle's; for though sorely tempted to transfer
some of the plenty around her to those
whose claim seemed so just, and whose
need was so urgent, Dora felt that she was
trusted, and that she must protye herself
trustworthy.
Such was the posture of affairs at tho
time of my encounter with Dora and little
Walter in the harvest field: the rest will be
best told in the course of our dialogue:
"And so madam, I cannot bear to see my
dear cousin Mary so sick and so melanchol
ly; and the dear, dear child, that a king
might be proud of only lookathim !" ex
claimed Dora, interrupting herself, as the
beautiful child, sitting on the ground, in all
the placid dignity of infancy, looked up at
me, and smiled in my face. "Only look at
him 1" continued she, "and think of that
dear boy, and his dear mother, living on
charity, and they my uncle's lawful heirs,
whilst, I that have no right whatsoever, nu
claim, none at all I that compared tojthcm
am but.a far-off kinswoman, the mcrecrea-
lure ot nis oouniy, suouiu revei in cunuori
and in plenty, and they starving I I can
not bear it, and I will not. And then the
wrong that he is doing himself; he that is
really so good and kind, to be called a hard
hearted tyrant by the whole country side
And he is unhappy himself, too ; I know
that he is. So tired as he comes home, he
will walk about his room half the night; and
often, at meal times, he will drop his knife
and fork, and sigh so heavily ! He may
turn me out of doois, as he threatened ; or,
what is worse, call me ungrateful or undu
tiful, but he shall sec this boy."
"He never has seen him then ? and that
is why you are tricking him out so prctti
lyi"
"Yes ma'am. Mind what I told you,
Walter ; and hold up your hat, and say
what I bid you."
" Gan-papa's fowers !" stammered the
pretty boy, in his sweet childish voice, the
first words that I ever heard him speak.
"Grand-papa's flowers 1" said his zealous
preceptress.
"Gan-papa's fowers !" echoed the boy.
" Shall you take the child to the house,
Dora?" asked I.
" No ma'am. I look for my uncle here
every minute; and this is the best place to
ask a favor in, for tho sight of tho great
crop puts him in good humor; not so much
on account of tho profits, but because tho
land never bore half so much before, and
it's all owing to his management in dressing
and drilling. I came reaping here to-day
on purpose to please him; for though he
says he does not wish me to work in tho
fields, I know he likes it; and hero he shall
see little Walter. Do you think ho can re
sist him, ma'am?" continued Dora, leaning
over her infant cousin, with the grace and
fondness of a young Madonna; " do you
think he can resist him, poor child, so help
less, so harmless; his own blood too, and so
like his father j No heart could bo hard
enough to hold out; and I am sure that his
will not. Only," pursued Dora, relapsing
irto her girlish tone and attitude, as a cold
fear crossed her enthusiastic hope only
Pm half afiaid that Walter will cry. It's
strango when one wants any thing to behave
particularly well, how sure it is to be naugh
ty ; my pets especially. I remember when
my lady countess came on purposo to see
our white poacock, that we got in a present
from India, tho obstinate bird Tan away be
hind a bean-stack, and would not spread
his train to show Ih dottl while spots on
his glossy white feathers, all we could do
Her Ladyship was quite angry. And my.
red and yellow marvel of Peru, which used
to blow at four in the afternoon, as regular
as the clock struck, was not open at five, the
other day, when dear Miss Julia camo to
paint it.though the sun was shining as bright
as it does now. If Walter should scream
and cryl for my uncle docs sometimes look
so stern; and then it's Saturday, and he has
such a beard! If the child should be fright
ened ! Be sure, Waller, that you don't
cry," said Dora, in groat alarm.
" Gan-papa's fowers!" replied the smi-
ing boy, holding up his hat; and his young
protectress was comforted.
At this moment, the former was heard
whistling to his dog, in.a neighboring field;
and, fearful that my presence might injure
the cause, I departed, my thoughts full of
tho noble little girl and her generous pur
pose. I had promised to call the next afternoon,
to learn her success; and passing the harvest
field in my way, found a group assembled
thero which instantly dissipated my anxiety.
On the very spot where we had parted, I
saw the good farmer himself, in his Sun
day clothes, tossing little Waller in the air;
the child laughing and screaming with de
light, and his grandfather apparently quite
as much delighted as himself. A pale slen
der young womanjn deep mourning, stood
lonkino- at their pambols. with an air of
thankfulness; and Dora, the cause and the
sharer of all this happiness, was loitering be
I. Li
hind, playing with the flowers in Walter s
hat, which sho was holding in her hand.
Catching -"Y- eye, tli sweet Birleaml
me instantly.
" I see how it is, my dear Dora; I give
you joy, from the bottom of my heart.
Little Walter behaved well then?"
" O, he behaved liko an angel !"
" Did he say ' Gan-papa's fowers' ?"
" Nobody spoke a word. The moment
the child took off his hat and looked up.the
truth seemed to flash on my uncle, and to
melt his heart at once; the boy is so like
his father. He knew him instantly, and
caught him up in his arms, and hugged him
just as he is hugging him now.
" And the beard. Dora?"
" Why, that seemed to take the child's
fancy: he put up his little hands and stro
ked it, and laughed in his grandfather's face
and flung his chubby arms round his neck,
and held out his sweet mouth to be kissed;
and, O, how my uncle did kiss him ! I
thought ho would never have done; and
then he sat down on a wheat sheaf, and
cried; and I cried, too. Very strange, that
one should cry for happiness!" added Dora,
as somo largo drops fell on the rustic wreath
which she was adjusting round Walter's
hat. " Very strange," repeated she, look-
iug up with a bright smile, and brushing
awav the tears from her rosy cheeks, with
a bunch of corn flowers " very strange,
that I should cry, when I am the happiest
creature alive; for Mary and Wallace aro to
live with us, and my dear uncle, instead of
being angry with me says that he loves me
better than ever. How very 6trange it is,"
said Dora, as the tears poured down faster
and faster. " that I should be so foolish as
to cry I"
AMERICAN FARMERS.
There is one class of men on whom wo
can as yet rely. It is the same class that
stood on the littlo green at Lexington, that
gathered on tho heights of Bunker Hill,
and poured down from tho hills of Now
England, and which were tho life blood of
tho nation, I mean tho farmers. They
were never found trampling on law and
right ; were I to commit my character to
any class of men, such as tho world never j
saw for honesty, intelligence and Roman'
virtue, sweetened by tho gospel of God.
And when this nation quakes, they and
their sons are those that will stand by the
sheet anchois of our liberties, and hold the
ship at her moorings till she out rjdes the i
storm. J. -a. Paulding.
Excessive Politentss.Vlt. Rowland
Hill was always annoyed when thero hap
pened to bo any noise in the chapel,or when
any thing occurred to divert the attention of
his hearers from what he was saying. On
one occasion, about three years before his
death, he was preaching to one of the most
crowded congregations that ever assembled
to hoar him. In the middle of his discourso
he observed a great commotion in the galle
ry. For a tirao ho took no notice of it, but
finding it increasing, ho paused in his ser
mon, and looking at tho direction in which
the confusion prevailed, he exclaimed,
What's tho matter thercl The Devil
seems to have got among you 1" A plain
country looking man immediately started
to his feet and addressing Mr. Hill, in re
ply, said, " No, fir, it arn't the Devil as i
doing on it; it's a lady wot is fainted ; and
she's a fat un, sir, as don't seem likely to
come too again in a hurry."" Oh! that's
it, s it," observed Mr. Hill, drawing his
hand across his chin; " then I beg tho lady's
pardon, and the Devil's too."
The Metropolitan Pulpit.
A Yankee boy and a Dutch boy vt (9
school to a Yankee schoolmaster, who, ac
cording to usage, enquired,
" What's your name ?"
" My name is Aarn."
" Spell it."
" Great A, little a, r o n."
" That's a man, take your seat."
Next came tho Dutch boy" What in
your name ?"
" My name is Hauns."
" Spell it."
Ureat.Hauns, little IIaiins,r o ni'-if ,."
" That's a'man, sit down." " -
SCENE IN THE WEST.
An Illinois paper tells the the following
amusing story of a scene that occurred du
ring the sitting of one of tho Illinois Cir
cuit Courts :
"A constable who had lately-been induc
ted into office, was in atlendence on tho
court and was ordered by the judge to call
John Bell and Elizabeth Bell. He imme
diately began at the top of his lungs, "John
Bell and Elizabeth Bell;" " ono at a time,"
said the judge.
"One at a time, one at a time, ono at a'
time," shouted the constable.
"Now you've done it," exclaimed ths
judge out of patience.
"Now you've done it, now you've dona
it, now you've done it," yelled the consta
ble. There was no standing this, and court
bar and bystanders broke out in a hearty
laugh to the perfect surprise and dismay of
the astonished constable.
A Welch parson preaching from tho text
"Love one another," told his congregation
that in kind respectful treatment to our fel
low creatures wo were inferior to tho brute
creation. As an illustration of the truth of
this remark, he quoted an instance of two
goats in his own parish that once met upoa
a bridge so very narrow that they could
not pass without ono thrusting the other off
into the river. "And," continued he "how
do you think they acted ? Why, I will
tell you. One goat laid himself down, and
let the other leap over him. Ah ! beloved,
let us lire liko goats."
Many havo been thought capable of gov
erning, until they were called to govorn ;
and others havo been deemed incapable
who when called into pewer, have most
agreeably disappointed public opinion, by
far surpassing all previous anticipations.
The fact is that the great and the littlo vul
gar too often judge of the blado by ill
scabbard ; and shining outward qualities,
although thoy may excito first rate expecta
tions, are not unusually found to bo tho
companions of second rate abilities. Where
as to possess a head equal to the greatest
events, and a heart superior to tho strong,
est temptations are qualities which may bo
possessed so secretly that a man s next
door neighbor shall not discover them, until
some unforeseen and fortunate occasion hip
called them forth.