•
•
INGDON
4.•
W tiouL No. 161.1
TERIVIS
01' TUN
4:7 I\ TT D°;l
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THIE:i GARLAND.
-"With sweetest flowers enrich'd
From various gardens cull'd Nith care."
FRODI THE PHILADELPHIA CHRONICLE,
THE STRANGER,
He came alone from his own bright land
O'er the ocean, ever heaving;
His cheek was pale and his eye was dim
With a spirit inly grieving.
What were his griefs? He told thetn not:
He was ever sad and lonely;
He seemed with the spirit* of the past
I'o hold communma only.
At times he would talk of other days
In tones of thrilling sadness.
Of hopes, of joys; of better years,
While flashed the gleam of gladness:
'Twas bat a flash—'twas like a beam
Of sunset brightly playlr.g
Upon some tempest troubled stream,
In gloom and darkness strafing.
.Pay after day he grew more weak,
Awe pale, and sad, and weary;
ttalvernfdlike a 'lower drooping down
In a lone waste Weak and dreray;
Me stood like one besde his grave
'There tottering sad and lonely,
That had but one more stop to
but one more step —4IIC only.
'Twas then within that fearful hour
There flashed a spirit brightly—
It was not nue with a joyous heart
And a footstep bouudir • :lightly,
But one that had his wanderings—
His loneliness—his feeling—
Whose presence was athwart ltis heart
Like spring o'er Winter stoalng.
Tie rose as 'twere, then from the dead
With health his cheek adorning,
Such as with joy the eye may vie x
When opes the rosy morning.
He loved, and at Love's holy shrine
Hope for awhile WLS beaming,
Filling that lonely heart of his
With a bright and joyous dreanling.
Alas! that hope was but a gleam—
A tint of day declining—
A rainbow on the darken'd cloud—
A star a moment shining,
That vanished—left him nought but gloom
That mock'd him when departed—
That crush'd his feelings—blighted all:
That left him b roken-hearted.
Sl‘ow, weatil* the hour unite
When the soul seems in (darkness leaping:
In that dread abyss to we know not where :
In that sleep forever sleeping.
There stood no one by his lonely bed,
No friend of youth was near him,
Ah no! not even one was there
In that parting hour to cheer him.
They little know in his native land
'Clic cold sod is his pillow, 1
Where the long moss hangs from the eve►',
Where droops the weeping willow [green
They little know where lies at rest
In that slumber broken never;
In vain they'll look for him in—vain!:
He sleeps with the dead torever.
-.........-•
HOW TO CHOOSE A WIFE.
'Coed Sir, if you'd show the best of your skill
To pick a virtuous creature,
Then pick such a wife as you love a life,
Of a comely grace and feature.
The noblest part let it it be her heart
Without deceit or cunning;
With a nimble wit, and all things fit,
With a tongue that's never running!
The nets of her head it must not be n En,
Rut fair and brown as a berry;
r 3fore-bead high. with a crystal eye,
Her lips as red as a cherry.'
From the Knickerbocker.
THE BILUXDIRRER.
Bang a few passages in the life if a
shortsighted man.
Oi all the evils to which mankind are
subject, there is none snore pitiable in its
victim, than an inordinary limitation of
vision, I, also, am one of those unfortu
nate individuals, whose nose is doomed
to be •spectacle bestrid' during my mor
tal existence, and who can discern no ob
ject unless it be thrust into my very face.
This, it may readily be imagined, is at
all times disagreeable, but particularly so
when the article in question is obnoxious
to the senses. 0, ve bipeds of oculars
unimpaired: --ye all-seeing gentry !--lit•
tle do ye know of the thousand evils ithat
daily accumulate upon our devoted heads
and sometimes shouldersl Little do ye
ken the numerous faux has that we of
the limited vision are almost constautly
being pushed into, to the imminent jeop
ardy of our moral andyhisical senses, as
men of feeling.
My misfortunes commenced from in
fancy: yea, from my veriest infancy—
and have continued up to this day, with a
frequency and regularity as astonishing as
unfortunate. My mother had often told
me, that when a baby I would make a
dozen ineffectual attempts to gain helm
breast; arid my first essays in the art of
walking, having been memoralized by a
1 multiplicity of scates, occasiouel by vio
lent contact with chairs, tables, and other
at ticks of domestic usefulness, As a boy
I was stilt,mgre
~aleigliping of comiscra
lion. In fact my nrililirrtunes seemed to
accumulate with my growth. The del
cacies of the dinner-table were *variably
appropriated by toy brothers add sisters,
before I could be made conscious of thei4
presence; and ill failed to examine closo
- evety particle upon the prongs of my
fork, or in the concave of my spoon, I
might-inadvertently swollow a red pepper
for a sausage, or masticate a quantity of ,
horse-radish for as much sup or sagol
cheese. My good old auntpiitying my 1
situation, resolved to bettor at, and fo r;
this purpose purchased inc a pare of spec
tacks, the first I had won. For a tune
•1 got on very well, 'in the way of eating
comfortable (lion ers.-5u rthts fortunel was I
too good to last long. My affectionate'
brothers and sisters contrived to abstract
my glasses. In vain I replaced them—'
they Were continually stclen. i was eV
(cry day 'compelled to partake of what
they, in the fulness of their stomachs,
thought proper to leave me.
In due season, I was ushered into the
solar system of society: but I had not re
volved a month upon my own axis, among
planets and satellites of the beau idea, be
fore they all complained that I passed
them in their diurnal transits, without a
smile or a bow of recognition; and unani
mously concluded to eject me from their
spere: I depreciated their displeasure,
acknowledged the imperfection of my vis
ion, and was again admitted in their cir
cles, 1 now resolved to speak to every
one I passed, 'and then,' thought 1, in
the fondness of my imagination, 'there will
be no mistake?' I put my resolution at
once in practice, and for a while things
went swimmingly on; but at length the
same result was the consequence.
"What have I done, nolo?" asked I of a
friend; "what sin 1 again thrust without
the pale of society?"
"The reason is, simply," said he, gaz
ing about to see that no one observed him
speaking to so proscribed a being as I,
'that people are not willing to meet, on
terms of sociability and equality, a man
who clai ms the acquaintance of every loa
fer, male or female, he may chance to
meet. At Trinity Church, last Sunday,
you offered your arm to a chamber-maid;
and you were yesterday observed, by a
party of ladies, in the act of making a
profound bow to three of the most noto
rious courtezans in town."
"Good G—•d! " exclaimed 1, "is it pos
sible?"
These were not the Only bad effects of
my politeness, A great six toot whisk
erando charged me with the hedtous crime
of insulting his sister, by speaking to her
without the previous formality of an intro
duction—and it was with the greatest dif
ficulty tied I could persuade the fellow to
refrain iron► horse-whipping me—a thing
which he had fully resolved upon, and
which nothing but my humble apologise
awl labored explanations; joined to the
entreaties of one or two of my personal
blends, deterred l►iu► from putting into
practice.
JUSTUS.
"Happier," thought I, 'far happier had
I been born blind, for then I should at
least have avoided the tissue of blunders
into which I hourly stumbled. My life
has been a continued series of getting in
to scrapes in the worst way, and 'getting
out of them the best way I could. Why
am I coapled with such a destiny? 1 am
one of the gentlest and most inoirensive of
"ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY."
A. W. BENEDICT PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR.
HUNTINGDON, IiENNSYLvANIA, WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 14, 1813,
mankind, and yet the sulkiest blackguard
about town encounters not half the dif
ficulties which fall to my Int.
•
Sucn were my musii.p; as I passed
down Bri.adway—suck my reflections
when my dog, as I thought, but alas. it
was "nailer's— rushing between my legs
and nearly tripped me up. Although nat
uraly, or rather commonly, a goodnatureti
man, I was not at that precise moment,
as the reader may imagine, in the smooth,
egt mood. The current dilly mind had
been agitated by more than one circum
stance that'day, and the little dog rende ,
ed me absolutely angry. With an excla
mation of wrath, I gave this member of
the canine race a kick, wh:ch sent him
howling to the opposite side of the street.
'r;ate,' said a tall, swarthy, Frenchifi
ed, ferocious looking personage, bowing
until his mustachios brushed my nose,
'you ay, by—! kick my dog. What
for you ay done dis for. eh?'
•
'My dear sir exclaimed I, terribly dis
cOmposed, .1 beg ten thousand pardons.
I really thought it was my own dog.'
'Alt, you t'ought it was your dog, eh?
Ah, sore, it is my leetle dhg dat you 'ave
kick.
'Sir, lam exceedingly Imp I mistook
him for my own dog, 1 assure you I
thought it was my own dog at the tune."
'By Gar, sare, dey is not resemblance
ter,Lite one dog is of de white, and de
otte . nog is of de black :color. Beside,
sare, de one 'av got de ear vet' wide; and
de oiler ver short: de one 'av got de tail
very much, and de oder 'av lust de tail ver
indtklt.
'But, sir, I am short-sighted—my eyes I
are impaired: I could not distinguish
between the dogs'
- I The foreigner looked steadily in my
'race for a moment; but perceiving nothing
there Lut truth; his countenance became
calm, and comparatively pleasant.
.You 'av, den, Monsieur, de vision not
very far, eh?'
I assented.
Ah ! den tiat is all the apology which I
demand; and with a graceful adieu, he pas
sed on.
'How fortunate for me,' soliloquized I,
'that ho was a Frenchman! Hard, he.
been one of my own countrymen I should
no doubt have hgured in the gutter.'
Strange, strange people, these Americans
They punish an of nce first, and inquire ,
into its case and effects afterwards. My 1
apology would have been laughed at by a
yankee. They have generally so much
in view themselves, that they cannot ap
preciate the difficulties of One whose vision
is not so extensive as their own. Alas! I
sighed 1, pausing, and wiping the 'glasses
of my spectacles, "who ever Oiled a near
sighted mall?"
It teas nearly sunset. The benches
avenues of die Battery were thronged
with human beings. The rich the poor,
the young the old, the gay. the dignified,
the ungainly and the beautiful—the
chant; the artizav, the statesman and the
philosopher—the near-sighted and the far
sighted—all 'recreated themselves here,
premeriading or sitting; thinking Or talk
ing, as their several inclination promoted;
for no matter how different the tastes and
pursuits of man may be, they all coincide
in the admiration of nature.
.How glorious/ how magnifiCent!' ejacu
lated a pale, middle-aged man, extending
his right hand towards the Jersey shore,
'Von purple cloud, so chastely tipped
with glowing silver, sails slowly and grace
folly along; and lo! the topmost leaves
.ofj
all yonder forest, seem gilded anti bur- !
niched o'er a thousand times.
'That 'ere chap is eyther crazy; or,
he's a poet,' said a loafer to a very disre
putable looking individual, who accompa
nied him.
guess he's a poet, Sam,' said the other
in reply; 'them 'ere fellows is always
c rag e '
bay,'
resumed the pale, middle.
aged matt,. 'looks like a purple mirror,
and yon fairy island so many emerald
spots upon its surface. The monuments
of tiian's industry, too, serve to glorify the
scene: and nature and art stand hand-in
hand, smiling complacently upon their
splendid representatives.'
Interested by the poetry of descrip
tion, I looked forth upon this space of 1
beauty, but saw nothing except a dim
conglomeration of hazy coloring. Never
before had I experienced so painful a
sense of misfortune. I grew dizzy and
sick at heart—and wheeling shout, sought
my way homeward, full of the bitterest
reflections. An omnibus was just en the
eve of departure; and mistaking the in
sription of "Bowery and Battery" for
"Broadway and Bleeker street," I jum
ped in and was whirled some two miles
and a half out of my proper way, before 1
was made acquainted with my ertor.
I now resolved to adopt a new course.
"Ant I not ," asked I of myself, "the
author of many of my own misfortunes?
Surely ,:my errors are chiefly caused by
my impertinence and impetuosity. I a.,
too hasty. I will endeavor to be more
moderate. I will examine beliire I pro•
cued, and . remove tie d fliculties that may
occur in my way. In a word I will be
more discreet in all things'
On the following day I dined wtth a
friend, at one of the most fashionable
hotels of the city, and Was for a while, as
I thought, extremely lucky, having as
yet made but one faux pas, which was
merely the drinking of a glass of branuy
fur as much w ne —a mistake, by the way,
which Might have 6cent-red to almost any
one. A tremendously stout gentlema,
from Mississippi, was seated on my left.
This individual had just clear;d his plate
of a large quantity of roast beet; and was
engaged in gazing ominously at a lobster,
his rigjlt hand shut, in the mean time;
resting on the table. Unfortunately fur
in) self, at this particular juncture I hap
pened to stand in need of a piece of bread
and raising toy eyes in search of the ne•
'clksary article, I mistook his clenched
fiselor a loaf. Taking up my fork very
deliberately, I hitched up the sleeve of
my coat, and plunged the sharp steel in
strument into the fleshy part of the man's
hand, With a noise between a . oar and
a growl, the victim jumped upon his feet,
knocking down the gentleman who sat
next ?um, and upsetting a waiter who was
hurrying along with a large supply of
custards. I, of course, jumped up too,
frightened, as may well be supposed; al
most to death, and attempted to explain
matters; scarcely had I opened my mouth
for the purpose, when I Was - floored by a
tremendous blow from the tunneled limb,
directly in my face. No sooner had the
avenger Anocked me down, than he un
sheathed a huge glittering Bowie knire,
and advanced to annihilate me together.
Words cannot portray the horror of my
emotions; I had seen the fellow carve a
pig a few moments before, and had my
self admirbd the denterity in the proceed
ing:
The company however, interfered be
tween tilt Mississippian and my destruc.
tion. 111 y friends made know the imper
fection of my vision, and the man of the
far west became satisfied. I was borne
1i bed, nearly senseless, add have not ye,
recovered front the eilete of that adven
ture, although my physician is one of the
moat learned and efficient in the city.
He is an Englishman, and when I releted
to him the occurrence, he shook his head,
saying:
"Terrible-chaps, those fellows from
Mississippi; 'orrible beings. Wonder he
din't cut yclir 'ed ha'Aortlier."
;s
We do not know what paper is entitled
to the credit of the following sketch.—
Thrre is a moral in it woich should not
be lust.
The Bride.
A SKETCH.
Emma had wheeled the sofa in front of
the tire, and as Charles seated himself be
side her, he was certainly a happy fellow.
A'as, he had as yet i , nly drunk the
bubbles on the cup. Emma looked lovely,
for the glow of the warm coal tire had
given a bloom to her usually pale cheek,
which heightened the lustre of her dark
eyes. But there came a shade of thought
over Emma's brow, and her husband in
stantly remarkel it. It is strange how
soon husbands see clouds over their
liege ladies' brows. It was the first
Charles ever saw there, and it excited his
tenderest inquiries. Was she unwelll—
she wish for any thine—Emma hesi
tated, she blushed and looked. Charles
pressed to know what had cast such a
shadow over her sirits. "1 tear you will
think me very si L.y--bot Mary French
has been sitting with me this afternoon."
"Nut that, certainly," said Charles, sun.'
ling.—"o: 1 do nut mean that, but you
know we began to keep house nearly the
same time, only they sent by Brent to
New York for carpeting. Mary would have
me walk down to !frees store this eve.
ring with her, and he has brought two--
and they are such loves." Charles bit
his lip--" Mary," she continued, "sail
yeti were doing a first rate business, and
she was sure you would never let that
*dial' Wilton lay in the parlor; if you
once saw that splendid Brussels; so rich
and so cheap--only seventy-five dollars."
Now, the "odious Wilton" had been
selected by Charles' mother, and presen
ted to them, and, the color deepened on
his cheek, as his animated bride continu
ed, "Suppose we walk down to Brent's
and look at it, there are only two, and it
seems a pity not to secure it." "Emma,"
said Charles, gravely, "you are mistaken
if you suppose my business will justify
extravagance. It will be useless to look
at the carpet, as we have one which will
answer very well, and it is perfectly
new.:'
_ , :s
Einhia's vivacity died, and she sat awk
wardly ;ticking her nails—Charles felt
embarrassed—he drew out, his watch and
put it hack—whisde s d—began to read
some beautiful verses: Ills mice was
well toned, and he tttoti entered into the
spirit of the writer, and forgot his embar
rassment; when looking into Emma's
eyes, how lie wassurprised, instead of toe
!glow of sympathetic feeling he expected
to meet, to see heir head bent on her hand
—evident displeto ore on her brow, and a
tear trinkling slowly down her cheeks.
Charles was a sensible young man; I
wish there were more of them —and he
reflected a moment before lie said, "Em
ma, toy love, get your bonnet and cloak
on and walk with me, if you plen3e."—
Emma looked as if wipld i like
to pout a little longer, but Chiges- nail,
"come," with such serious gravity on his
countenance, that Emma thought proper
to accede, and nothing doubting but it
was '.O purchase the carpet, to k his arm
with a smile of triumph. They 'crossed
several streets in the direction to Brent's,
until they at last stood before the dour
of a miserable tenement on a back street.
"Where in the world are you taking mei"
inquired Emma, shrinking back. Charles
quietly led her forward, and lifting a
latch, they stood in a little room, around
thu grate of which three small children
were hovering, closer and closer, as the
cold wind swept through the crevices in
the decayed walls. An emaciated being,
whose shrunk features, sparkling eye,
and flushrit cheek, spoke a death) , con ,
sumption, lay on a wretched low bed, the
slight t overm. of which barely su ffi ced to
keep her fr o:freezing, while a spectral.
bate, whose black eyes looked unnatural
ly large from its extreme thinness, was
endeavoring to draw sustenance limn the
dying mother. _
"Row are you Mrs. IVrighti" quietly
inquired Charles. The woman feebly
raised hcrulf en her arm, "Is that you'
Mr. Weal 0, how glad I am you are
come—your mother?"--"Has not been at
home fur a month, and the lady who pro.
raised to look aster you in her absence,
only informed me to-day of your increas
ed illness." "1 have been very ill," she
faintly replied, sinking back on her straw
bed.
Emma drew near, she arrange ,i 1 thi
il
low nod the bed'elothes OVer the feeble
sufferer, but her heart was too full to
speak--Charles observe:: it, and felt ttt.-
istied. pls that beautiful girl vor r bride l
1 heard you were married." es, and
in my mother's absence she wilt ate you
'do not suffer." Bless you, Charles
'Nest—ble.,s you for a good son of a good
nother; may your young ude deserve
you—and that is wishing a good deal for
her. ' - i/ou are very good to think of me,"
she said. looking at Emma, "and you are
just married." . . .
Chailes saw that Emma could not
Spezk. and he hurried her home, pionti.
sing to send the poor woman coal that
night. The moment they reached home
Emma burst into tears. "My dear Lin,
ma," said Charles, soothingly, "1 hope I
have nut given you too severe a shock. It
is sometimes salutaly to loak on the mis
cries ut others, that we may properly ap
preciate our (),., a happiness.
Here is a purse containing seventy•
fi,e (tellers, you may spend it as you
please." .
• It is unnecessary to say, that the "odi
ous tun kept its place, but the shiver
ing children ul want were taught to ole.sis
the name of Emma 1% eat, and it formed
the last articulate raurinur on the lips of
the . dying sullerei%
From the Weekly Ledger.
Self Reropeet.
If a man would obtain the respect of
others, or at least 01 those whose respect
is valuable, he should respect himself.
Modesty is a great virtue, but is not in
compatible :with self respect. On the
contrarvhe most modest are those who
think too well of themselves, to forfeit
their own good opinion by justly incur
ring the censure of the worthy. Modes
ty consists in abstaining from unfounded
pretensions, and not in forbearing to urge
just claims. Every man should be care
--
In! of his rights; for, by maiming them to
be trampled upon, he endangers the right
of others; and he should remember that
he is not an isolated being, but part of a
whole, to whom he is bound by duty, as
well as interest. "hence, self respect has
a double foundation.
We advise every young man to res. •
pect himself at all times, whether iu busi
ness or amusement. In business, let
him respect himself by mildly, yet firmly
maintaining his opinions, whenever he is
conscious of being right. If he stand
upon that basis, let him not yield to age,
learning or authority. In every doubt
ful case, or case which he has not fully in
vestigated, a deference to the opinions ul
'those whose opportunities of knowledge
have exceeded his own, is commendable.
[ Vol.. IV, No. 5
But where conscience, titer diligent in:
tinily, tells him that he is 1401, he com
mits treason to himself and to truth, by
yielding his own judgment to supetior age
or learning. Ile must !lace some land
marks, if he would not forever wander;
and by rigidly observing them so long as
his convictions remain, he will be teepee
ted by the enlighlned, though they differ
with him. tie - should respect himsell•
never admitting inferiority which he does
not feel. Some young men for fear of
.being thought presumptuous, or from a
desire to save the feelings of the igno
rant, pretend to be ignorant also. This
fear is not •Inodesty, but timidity; and
this rtgard for others is not benevolent,
but d*rit. An 'enlightened mind rimy.
always 'instruct the ignorant, without
wounding them with a tense of self
iinapepent; and hence ignorance need not
bit callitficletted, to avoid the imputa
tiou•of,artiencp,:flence the admission
of. intern:tray -wruch does not exist, is
wrong, and therefore a departure from
that self respect which forbids wrong.
In business, one of the best modes by
which a young man can respect himself,
is to do nothin,g to forfeit the respect of
the worthy. In all cases, besides his
ureat moral landmarks, let him take for
guides what he relieves to be the opinion
of the worthy in similar cases. bet him
try every case proposed by acknowlidged
moral principles; and if he find alllfight
there, let hint, to make assurance doubly
sure, imajne these looking on, whom he
knows to be deservedly esteemed for
probity and intelligence; and then let
him ask himself, "What will aught teen
think? If I do so and so, mill they ap
prove or condemn? If the latter, let nit
abstain, and avoid occasion fur condem
ning myself."
In amusements, a young man respects
himself by strictly regarding the laws of
the land, and of propriety. For this
purpose, he will abstain, ndt only from
degrading pursuits but degrading compan
ions. Vl hen we see a young man drink
ing freely in a tavern or an oyster cellar,
and becoming unduly tay, though not. in
toxicated, we say that he dues cot respect
himself; for thou it neither wit nor humor
are censurable, they do not consist in ex-
Icess of animal spirits, induced by nervous
stimulants, W. hen we see a young man
il k the third row of theatre, or entering or
suing from a house of tioubtlui or vow
' nous reputation, or conversing with peo
ple of notoriously bad character in streets
and public walks, we say that heedoes
not respect himself. When we seeye,utig
men issuing froth drinking houses or the
atres, and shouting or singing as they pass
through the street, we say they do not
. teSpect thLimsel vet. When we see young
nicti congregated at street corners, indul
, !ging in ribaldry and profanity, we say
that they do not respect themselves.
.1 When we see young men spading their
time, and the money of themselves and
I
others, in gaming houses, we Say that they
do not respect themselves. ‘MI hen wa
see young men riding Out elf town on a
party of pleasure, and in returning, shoe
Wig, singing, swearing, and driving their
spent horses at lull speed; With cruel dis
regard to the *malt and the safety of
street passengerst we say that they do not
respect theniselvea. When we see young
men congregating before church doors, to
stare at woman coming out, we say that
they do nut respect themselves, or the sex
to which their mothers and sisters be
long,
FRUITS or COURTSITtr.—Ned Grimes
wore a sad countenance. Ile was often
asked what was the matter; but no satis
factory answer was forthcoming. At
length, a particular frrend obtained the
following particulars of tim: "You know,'
said Tied, "1 have been cowling Sally W.
a long while; And so we had a great potion
ofgctting married when that darned old
Colonel --" "Go WI, Ned,' don't
be a boy, what about Colonel---- 7""14 by
you see, Sally said I'd better ask him;
and so I did, as pulite as I knowed how."
"Well, what reply did he make?" "Why
he kinder hinted round!" What knit
of hints did he throw . outg" "Why, he
kinder hinted round as if I went wanted
there'." "Well, Ne,6l, let us know what
they were—what the colontl said, to ills-.
turb your mind so?" "\Vhy, he sad—"
"Said what?" "Why, he said it ha
eatched me there again, he could cow
hide me till I hadn't an inch of rive left
on my back; darn his Oil pictev!"
---
4 .
MAIUNG A GOOD TITLIte-4 very 'Cu
riot's mode of trying Ilib title to land si
practised in Hindoostan. Two hole s are
dug in the disputed spot, in each of which
the plaintdrand defendant's lawyers put
one of their legs, and remain thuir till
one of them is tired, or complain, of be
, lug stung by insects, in which ruse his
' client is defeated. In this country, it is
the client, and not the lawyer, who puts
his foot into it,