IMUNTINGD I N JOVRINA
WnOLC No. 171.]
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THE GARLAND.
-"With sweetest flowers eurich'd
From various gardens cull'd ?nth care."
THE DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
Sweet is the scene when Virtue dies,
Where sinks a righteous soul to rest;
How mildly beam the closing eyes!
Bow gently heaves 'th' expiring breast,
So fades a summer cloud away—
Su sinks the gale when storms arc o'cr!
So gently shuts the eye of day!
So dies a wave along the shore.
Triumphant smiles the victor's brow,
Fann'd by some angel's fostering wing;
Oh Grave! where is thy victory now?
Invidious DeAth! where is thy sting?
A holy quiet reigns around,
A calm which nothing can destroy--
Nothing can disturb that peace profound
Which their unfetter'd souls enjoy.
Farewell, convicting joys and fear, -
Where light and shade alternate dwell!
How bright the unchanging morne appears,
Farewell inconstant world! farewell!
Its duty ;one, as sinks the clay;
Light from its load the spir:.,fiies!
While Heaven and Earth combines to say,
"Sweet is the scene when Virtue dies,"
WHAT IS MAY?
MY T. CAMPBELL
Oh! what is man' Creation's wonder;
An Angel half, and half a brute;
A frown can tear his heart asunder,
A-tear can make his passions mute.
Vire. Virtue, both were his devotion;
Now bound in chains—now rob'd in power
The king of earth, the king of ocean;
Yet ruled by passions every hour.
From him bloom pleasure's every flower;
But oh! too soon their beauty flies;
A thousand cares and pains o'erpower,
And then he ripens, droop and dies.
To-day his fertile, thoughts develope
Worlds mortal eye had ne'er survey'd,
To—morrow eirth doth seal or wrap up,
And humble him whom dust had made,
Cockermouth, Oct. 17, 183 f .
THE FLIGHT OF TIME,
Moments pass slowly on,
Years fly apace;
NVhcn shall the wearied One
Rest from the Race?
Whether we smile or weep—
Time keeps his Hight—
Hours, days, may seem to creep,
Life speeds like Light!
Whether we laugh or groan,
Seasons change fast;
Oh! when lath ever flown
Swift as the Past!
What though we chafe and chide,
Time holds his pace;
No step: no noisless stride
Doth he retrace!
Hastening, still hastening on,
None may deem how . ;
But when 'ds fled and gone:
Then seems Time slow?
Time while we chide thy pace,
Reckless and proud,
Oft cloth thy shadowy face
Lough from our shroud!
SELECT TALE.
From Chambers' Edinburg Journal.
SERJE.IXT aLIIII ELL.
A TA.: E OF THE LATE WAR,
Not a single cloud floated over the clear
blue sky, and the full effulgence of a Sep
tember sun was reflected in the brightest
gold from the dancing waters of the
broad sea, whose glittering wavelets came
rippling in with gentle sounds. The pier
at Ramsgate exhibited gay groups assein•
bled to witness one of those exhilarating
scenes which so often took place during
the late war, the embarkation of troops
for foreign service. A small fleet of tran
sports, gaily decorated, their sails bent,
and colors flying, formed an interesting
portion of the spectacle. From the decks
of these vessels came the peculiar and
picturesque sounds, which, when mellow
ed by distance, have a thrilling effect upon
the ear—the animating cries of the sailors,
who on board the smaller class of merchant
ships still weigh the anchor, and hoist the
sails to the wild chant of "Foe, heave,
ho!"--These sea strains came mingled
with the spirit-stirring notes of a regi
mental band upon the shore, where, ever
and anon, the sharp blast of a trumpet,
and the loud peal of the drum, broke in
upon softer melodies, aftbrding types and
images of the vicissitudes of military life.
Boats were passing to and from the beach,
filled with gallant hearts, high in hope and
in courage, the greater number delighted
with the opening of their adventurous ca
reer, and none as yet weary and toil-bro
ken, or casting vain regrets towards those
homes which many were destined never
to behold again.
The younger portion of the male spec
tators, whose more peace?ul lot was pla
ced in scenes of inglorious Vase, cast en
vious looks upon the briliant pageant; for
every female eye beamed with delighted
encouragement, and sent radiant glances
towards the chivalric band, who, with
cheers and shouts of exultation, quitted
their native country to combat with a for
eign foe. Not one of the young and fair
creatures gazing with elated hearts upon
the sr.lendid array, could in this moment
of excitement rejoice that their male rela
tives were secured from the horrors of a
war; to their inexperienced minds tha
triumphs of that proud hour seemed to be
worth all of the suffering of whirls they
had as yet formed any notion: Alas, how
little did they know of the fearful price
too frequently paid for that military glory
which now seemed so dazzling and so
precious! Happy were those to whom
the whole gay spectacle afforded merely
the passing amusement of a morning walk,
who could go home and calm their excited
feelings, and lose in other occupations all
' save a pleasing remembrance of the sights
and sounds of the embarkation. There
was a group overlooked amid tl e blaze of
scarlet uniforms and the waving of milita
ry plumes, which might have taught a sad
lesson to those thoughtless gazers, who
saw nothing beyond the bright side of the
picture—the wives and families of the
soldiers, who, permitted to accompany
the regiment destined for foreign service,
were, by the orders of the government,
directed to embark on board of one of the
transports fitted up as a hospital for the
sick. These pour women were strangers
at Ramsgate; they had long ago quitted
their native homes to follow the often
miserable fortunes of their husbands, and
{now inured to hardships had prepared to
meet the dangers and hazards of a foreign
campaign with a sort of reckless fortitude.
But they had not anticipated the sepera
tion which had been deemed expedient;
and their situation was rendered unusual. ,
ly forlorn, by their being compelled to
make the voyage unaccompanied by those
who were wont to cheer them in periods
of the utmost peril. (Inc family, in par
ticular, felt deeply the misery of submis
sion to this arbitrary mandate, the wife
and daughters of the serjeant-major of the
regiment. Maxwell, amid the toils and
dangers of a military career, had often re
gretted, for the sake of the patient part
ner in all his sufferings, that he had indu.
red her to leave the cottage, where, far
from the tumults of the world, she had
spent her early days in tranquillity and
comfort. Frequently in his mind's eye
would arise the substantial dwelling of
his unsuccessful rival, the rustic porch
mantled with a vine leading into a well
cropped garden, the smilingifields stretch
ing to the back, the poultry gathering
round the door, and the cow, whose fra
grant breath came mingliug with the per
fume of the blossoming beams. Then the
comfortable interior would contrast pain
fully with the squalid abodes in which he
was but too often happy to find a shelter
for his wife and children; the bright fire.
the carved oaken chairs, the handsome
clock, and the abundance of dell and pew
ter; where there was every thing for use,
and much for show.
"ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY."
A. W. BENEDICT PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR.
HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA,
Maxwell sighed as memory conjured up
these things, and he wished that lie hail I
left his beloved Mary to be the contented 1
mistress of so fair a home. Well did he
recollect his own invasion of this paradise. '
the pride he had experienced in exhibiting
his becoming uniform, military air, and '
superior intelligence, before the eyes of a
girl who could not afterwards look with
complacency upon the plain and homely
suitor who had seen nothing beyond his
native fields. Mary shared in the remi
niscences, but not in the regrets; though
long ago the fascinations of a red coat had
lost all charm in eyes accustomed to the
sad realities of a soldier's life, she never
one.: lamented advantages which she d
could only have tasted in relinquishing
the chosen of her virgin heart for another.
Often, indeed, did she wish for such a
1 rural retreat as she had left, 3 et never un
less it was to be shared with the man for
whom she was still ready to sacrifice ev
ery earthly good. Mrs. /Maxwell had
borne the rough and thorny places of the
path she had, perchance, incautiously,
ventured to tread, with enduring meek
ness, never once wearying in her efforts
to impart comfort to the most desolate
abode to which their wandering lile would
lead them. She maintained a decent
pride under the most adverse circumstan
ces; and though frequently pale and was
ted by fatigue, and the absence of nour
ishing food, she and her children were al•
ways cleanly and respectably attired.
The deserted wile had upon former occa
sions been left in camps and garrisons,
while her husband had accompanied his
regiment to the field, but excepting to go
into action, she had never been separated
from him before, and she felt the measure
which was now adopted as one of peculiar
cruel and hardship, Maxwell entertain
er the same opinion, and too late lie wish
ed that he had made arrangements for the
settlement of his family rt home. More
than once it had occurred to him that he
ought to have insisted upon their remain
ing in England during this campaign, but
his wife, discarded by her own relatives,
and clinging solely to him, could not be
persuaded of the advantages of the plan.
How gladly would the husband and fath
er have entered u;ron the present service
alone, could he have felt certain that those
he most loved in this world, were in a
state of security! but to be parted from
them while they were exposed to danger
and distress, to sail in a different vessel,
, and thus be prevented from calming their
fears, or procuring for them any allevia
tion under the pressure of bodily suffer
ings, pierced him to the very soul. For
the first time in his life, Maxwell felt him
self to be unmitined. Margaret Maxwell
the eldest daughter, a girl of twelve, was
old enough to enter into all the feelings of
her parents. 'Though born amid the din
of arms, and brought up in a camp, she
had little or none of the Aura-ion about
her; courage she possessed, for iirc had
faced danger; and learned to endure dis
coinfirrture without murmuring; but her
tender and affectionate spirit recoiled
from the boisterous gaiety which charac
temed many of her companions. From
her childoood she had felt strong though
secret yearnings, for a quiet and perma
nent home; and her mother, in teaching
her to avoid the evil examples of those
with whom they were compelled in some
degree to associate, presented such sweet
pictures of domestic seclusion to her,
mind, that she learnt{ to loathe the public
and vagrant sort of life which she was,
condemned to lead.—Her courage failed
in the present emergency; and when Max
well, called away by his duty to superin
tend the embarkation of the privates of
his corpse, left her with an entreaty that
she would support her mother through the
trial; she could not obey him, but sat
down upon the green in such utter broken
heartedness, as to subdue the glee of her
younger companions, who until then had
echoed the cheers of the soldiers, and dan
ced to the inspiring music of tire fife and
drum.
The sun had set, and the gay crowd
had dispersed before Maxwell's forlorn
family had reached the vessels destined to
receive them. The commencement of
their voyage was inauspicious; through
the ignorance or carelessness of the pilot,
the transport ran foul of , another vessel
and sustained a greater degree of damage
than was at first apprehended. Before
they quitted the channel, it fell astern of
the fleet, and in the Bay of Biscay totally
lost sight of the convoy. Considerable
alarm was felt by the unfortunate passen•
Fers, apparently abandoned to their fate
in the midst of a wide and stormy ocean;
for the sea, according to that most expres
sive phrase, employed to describe its
forthcoming tumult, was "getting up."
Vlrave lashed itself on wave, against the
devoted bark; the master lost confidence;
and the crew, feebly assisted by a few
sick soldiers. found themselves inadequate
to the management of the vessel, which
was driven out of her course, and in a
short time stranded on the coast of France.
WEDNESDAY JANUARY 23, 1839
Mrs. Maxwell, from the moment she had
parted from her husband, resigned herself
to despair; prescient fears weighed upon
her soul. On the evening of her (leper- '
tore, she looked upon the clouds which
obscured the golden light of the magnifi
cent orb that had a short time before so
brilliantly illumined the scene, and upon
the dark waters through which the disa
, bled bark made its sullen way, and she
felt that the sun of hope and happiness
would never rise for her again. She ga
thered her children around her, and, amid
the frightful confusion of the tempest,
calmly awaited the event. The vessel
was doomed to perish, and few of the
luckless Leing s it contained, survived the
general wrec. The Maxwell family
were. however, amid the small number,
When the transport went to pieces, they
clung to one of the masts, which had fal
len acr. ss the place where they were all
huddled together, and, though severely
injured, and for some time lost to con
sciousness, escaped with life.
Mrs. Maxwell, upon opening her eyes,
found herself and her children in a very
decent apartment. of a French house, and
attended by a kind looking woman who
made herself well understood by the good
offices which she lavished upon her unfor
tunate guests. Madelon St. Alois was a
widow, and childless; she was established
in a good business at Bayonne, and had
only come to the small town on the coast
where the transport had been wrecked, to
look after a property lately inherited. She
became attached to Mrs. Maxwell and
her fair daughters, and began to consider
whether she could not render them useful
as assistants in her shop; and having suffi
cient interest in Paris to obtain the custo
dy of her protoges, who were considered
in the light of tretenus rather than prison
ers of war, she carried them with her to
her own home. Painfully anxious to m..ke
her husband acquainted with her existence,
112 rs. Maxwell wrote repeatedly, •and
through every channel she could think of;
but it was very difficult at that period to
get a letter transmitted to England, and
the ignorance of the language, which pre
vented her from communicating all heal
thoughts and wishes to her new friends,
likewise threw many obstacles in her
way. She, however, preserved, and in
the fond expectation th .t the pleasing in
telligence would reach the beloved object
for whom it was intended, hope revived
in her breast. Madame St, Allois had
no reason to repent the benevolent ar
rangements which she had made, for the
family were very diligent and efficient.
The young girls speedily learned to speak
the language of the country, and, full of
hope and animation, they were cheerful'
and happy. Mrs. Maxwell, though grate
ful and even resigned, experienced many
anxious feelings about her husband; all
her present comforts were embittered by
a separation which rendered correspon
dence difficult, nay, perhaps, impossible.
No answers arrived to her numerous let
ters, none from the ags;nts of the regiment
in London; at length there came
intelli
gence of a great battle fought in Spain, in
which, of course, in the Parisian Bulletin,
the victory was given to the French. The
corps to which Maxwell belonged was
stated in this account to have been entire
ly cut to pieces. A dreadful apprehen
sion weighed upon the wife's heart; yet
still she did not give entire credit to in
' telligence coming front so doubtful a source
By this time she had attained a tolerable
degree of proficiency in the French lan
guage, while Margaret spoke it perfectly;
they could, therefore, communicate freely
with all their acquaintances, and one
kindly undertook to procure the London
Gazette.
With some difficulty, and after the
lapse of a considerable period, this offi
cial document was obtained, and it gave
a miserable confirmation of a part of the
French statement; the regiment had suf
fered severely, and the name of Setjeant
Major M txwell was amongst the list of
the killed. The blow did not fall the less
heavily for the delay; the patience with
which the faithful wile had borne all the
evils of her lot changed to the deepest
dejection;—she was oppressed by the ga
iety of her friends, and even the cheerful
ness of her own children augmented her,
distress. Their smiles seemed to her
to be a sort of profanation, when their
father's bones lay mouldering perhaps up
on the battle field. The two younger ,
girls grieved at their mother's unhappi
ness, and often checked themselves in the
midst of their glee, as her sad looks re
minded them of their father's fate; but it
was impossible for them to enter into her
feelings, or to comprehend the depth and
extent of her anguish; and the shade of
melancholy soon passed away from their
brows, and they became joyous as before.
Margaret sympathised more tenderly in
her mother's sorrow; she was well ac
quainted with all the excellences of the
parent she had lost; knew until the fatal
parting, no misfortune or privation had
rendered the hearts so fondly linked to.,
gether, impatient of their lot. The holy
harmony of the domestic circle had never ,
been disturbed, the devoted pair being ,
certain of receiving the support and assts. 1,
tance from each other %1 hich each in turn
could give. New scenes and new objects
could not divert the mind of Margaret
from dwelling upon the past. She could
not help admitting that, with respect to
worldly circumstances, her family had
gained iiy their shipwreck on the French
coast; but they were in a land of strati-
I gers, and she saw that her mother droop
ed under that home-sickness which so
oftea embitters the life of the exile. Mrs.
Maxwell, since this last b -eavement,
pined, indeed, for her ni.tive land.
Often, during her pilgrimage through
life, she had cast longing looks at those
well-remembered scenes, wherein child
hood and youth had been spent, but never
did they recur so frequently as now
when she saw the destiny of her children,
though not an unhappy one, cast in a for
eign couutry, t nd could no longer hope to
drag herself.ito the church yard of her na
tive village, and died upon the turf that
covered the ht.inthe graves of so
many of her ancestors. Meantime
the children grew up in strength
and beauty, and Margaret had become a
young woman. Thoughts of peace be.
tween England and ?ranee-had long ceas
ed to be indulged; war seemed to be an
inevitable necessity, only to end when no
country remained to be conquered. Ma
dame St. Alois had taken Mrs. Maxwell
into partnership; business flourished; and
but for one corroding care, the family
would have been happy.
Though life has lost all its charms in
the mother's eye, still she wishes to live
for the sake of her ciii:.;ren; and while
hope seemed dead in her heart she was
conscious occasi 'illy of a feeling akin
to it, a faint expectation mixed with an er
nest desire that'she should live to see En
gland again, and that her parents would
pardon her, and take her daughters to
their bosom. About this time her mind
was desturbed by a dream, and she could
scarcely determine upon the effect which 1
it produced upon her, whether the idea it I
I presented reconciled her to her situation,
or revived all the keenness of anguish
which shelled suffered when the certainty
of her bereavement reached her. She
dreamed thatiMaxwell was alive, but that
in' the full conviction that she and her
daughters had perished in the stranded yea
sel, and married again, and was now the
happy husband of a young and beautifu
woman. This dream was never absent
from her thoughts. Such an event might
have happened and Maxwell yet blameless
—Could s'te with this chance now reveal
to her; !regret that lie was dead, that she
had been spared a calamity more dreadful
than any she had yet experienced? Per
plexed by so new a view of the circum
' stances of her situation, poor Mrs. Max
well now suffered from tan apprehension
that site was doing wrong, and that wheth
er she, ceased to lament the loss of her
. husband or deplored a misfortuhe provi
dentially occuring to preserve her from a
more terrible ',fate, her feelings could nut
be blameless.
Though the people of Bayonne were
kept in a considerable degree of ignorance
concerning the events of the war in Spain
rumors of reverses both in the Peninsula
and elsewhere, where whispered abroad.
The party inimical to the ruler of France,
hitherto condemned to silence and pa
tient endurance of a govei nmeni which
they disliked, now began to utter their
sentiments, and to deprecate measures
which they considered injurious..to the wel
fare of the country, Slow to entertain
hope, Mrs. Maxwell, could scarcely be
lieve in the possibility of a tree choice be
ing offered to her with respect to a return
to England. Could she fancy that some
of her day dreams would be realized, and
she should yet live to present her chil
dren to her own and to M axwelPs rela
tives? How often had they talked to
gether of a visit to the green hills of his na
tive land, and how fondly had she antici
pated the welcome she would receive in
the homes of hi; kinsfolk! The younger
girls, pleased with the idea of a chnnge,
were delighted with the prospect of peace
without knowing what it was to bring them
and Margaret felt a strange joy at her
heart at the thought of dividing her time
between her English home, for she loved
the good Madame St. Alois as a second
mother.
The 'reports, however, •vhen they had
attained a certain height, were silenced,
and some time elapsed without bringing
decisive intelligence of the state of the
war, or the real aspect of public affairs.
The great part of the community seemed
to be aware that a crisis was at hand,
though perhaps few understood the ac
tual state of events. Thc Maxwells hat!
been accustomed to hear of wa. - it a dis
tance, but soon it was brought beneath
the walls of the city which had sheltered
them so lung. They knew that the Brit
ish were engaged in a desperate contest
with the army of Sault. 'What wet c their
[ Vor.. IV, Na 15
sensations during heir state o;* suspense
and what convinced beyond the shadow
of a doubt that their 'count ryinen had tri
umphed I—the gates of Bayonne were
throo n open to the victors. It was pleas
ant to Madame St. Alois to have so good
an excuse to share in the joy of the con
querors, rather than in the mortification
of the defeated party; so she gladly assis
ted in decorating her house with garlands
and white cockades', Dud in spreading
tapeste ' y over the balconies. Janet and
Helen Maxwell had prepared baskets full
of briquets, and were s,.ld with (blight at
the idea of greeting the British soldiers in
their own language.
Mrs. Maxwell, overpowered by recol
lections of other days, could not look up
on the wellkrown uniforms, and Marget
fancied that she ought to stay by her troth
er's side, though longing with a painfiul
eagerness to least her eyes upon counte
nances which she had never expected to
behold agahl, For some time she retain
ed her post; but the first full burst of the
trumpets shook her resolution; it was the
same sound which had filled her ears on
the, pier at Ramsgate; she had listened to
many French trumpets since, but they
Ind not conveyed notes like these; and
scarcely known what she did, she rush.
ed to the balcony. and gazed .intensely
on the soldiers as 'they . passed. A shriek
at deligth burst from her parted lips; she
flew down ,stairs out into the street, and
hurrying along, flung herself into the arms
of a tall, erect, but t oil-worn and weather
beaten man, exclaiming. "it is my father,
it is my Called" An officer who obser
ved the scene, directed Itraxwell. for be it
was to fall out of the ranks, and the,bewil
tiered man war carried rather than led
into the house of Madame St. Alois. Jen
et and Helen, though retaining no person
al recollection of their father, comprehen
tied the whole matter at once, welcomed
him with a thousand carasses. Margaret
now sought her ;''mother; she endeavored
to steal softly to the apartment in which
she had left her, and to break the Intel
ligence by degrees; but even her very
!footsteps betrayed extraordinary t:dings.
Mrs. Maxwell looked up at once, and read
'ln her daughters face something, she
knew - not what of joy. Jo another mo
ment she exclaimed, "lie is alive, you have
seen him'?" and then a violent burst of
tears enabled her to listen to the confir
mation of her hopes. Who shall describe
the joy of that meeting/ . Maxwell was
indeed alone, and had never ceased to
think of the wife and children whom he
believed to be buried in the ocean. His
name had been among the list of the kil
' led, but he had survived after several days
' exposure on the field of battle.
Compelled to go home far the recovery
of his health. he had visited Scotland, anti
had also been received by the parents of
his wife who, too late, lamented their con
duct to their daughter. To find his fan,
ly ,thus prosperous, and in every way so
well worthy of pride and affection, mor:
than repaid him for all that he had suffer
ed. Mrs. Maxwell too, how was she rc•
wtrded for the dreary past. Meekly awl
patiently as she had borne her affliction-,
she sometimes accused herself of not ha. •
in 7 been sufficiently submissive to the
of s heaven, and felt that she scarcely d •
served this excess of happiness. Made ••
St. Alois, who loved nothing so we 11...
met ry faces, became at once a confirm
supporter of the Bourbons, and thtr.
for a time compelled to part with the Ei •
ily of her adoption, it as only to n.•
again. Maxwell, at the conclusion or
war, found no difficulty in obtaining ; •
discharge. Though he had gained not•
besides honor during his long and me,
rious services, his wife had been piaci.
a situation which enabled her to reali.
sum of sufficient for their future can •
and at the death of the good Madan: '
Alois, the younger Maxwells were an,:
provided fur by the bequests of all her •
sings-
Inaugural address.
111.2P1D R. PORTER.
Deeply impressed with a sense of gra
tude to my tellow-citizens for the dibi.
guished mark of confidence reposed in t.
I enter upon the arduous and responbi'
duties of Governor of Pennsylvania, AI .
a full determination, according to'the
ities given me, to do my duly .
A compliance with custom would sr,
to require of me, when assuming the
ties of the Executive, in pursuance of
choice of the people, to lay before tl
some of the leading principles upon wI
the administrttion of the government
be conducted. Ido this the more willii
ly, because in a Republic. the intercor
beoween the people and their public fn
tionaries should be candid, frank
unreserved .
Education ‘vith the highest vener
and eiratest affection for the men and