VOL.VIII, No. 17.]
PUBLISHED BY
THEODORE H. CREMER.
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POSTRT.
Lillie Longings.
I wish I had a little wife
And owned a little land,
I'd have a little house upon 't,
And feel a little grand,
I'd want a little daughter, and
Likewise a little son,
And wit ' a little time to spare,
1' fun.
A lit lake I'd have,
We ith little fishes;
My little pantry shelves should shine
With little pewter dishes.
Around my cot the little birds
Should tune thew little throats,
And on a little hill should frisk
My little nanny goats.
I'd lounge a little after meals,
And take a little ease—
And it my little wife should scold,
I'd raise a little breeze.
let it rage a little—then
I'd take a little " horn,"
And, little " snapped," go out and hoe
My little field of corn.
As I should want a little cash.
I'd take some little pains,
(Since every little trifle helps)
To make up little grains.
And then I'd smile at little ills.
Avoid life's little snares.
Enjoy a little paradise,
And laugh at little cares.
These little longings though are vain—
Vet little minds they bore,
And when a mortal little gets,
He sighs for little more,
Despite the little ballad says,
Or, call it little song :
Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long."
lIII3OELLANZOI7t3.
• OtrThe following just tribute of re
spect to the memory of the Rev. Joni
CARES we take from the German Reform
ed Messenger. For eleven years Mr.
Cares was pastor of the German Reform
ed Church in York, Pa., where he died, on
the evening of the sth of April last, in the
fitlnd year of his age. In life he was
highly esteemed as a man, as a christian,
and as a preacher; and his death is mour
ned by his widow, kindred, friends and
acquaintances.
None knew him but to love him—
None named him but to praise!"
Death of the Rev. John Cares.
The Rev. John Cares was born in Tur
bot township, Northumberland county,
Pa., iu September, 1811. At an early
period in life, lie was impressed with the
importance of Divine things, and manifes
ted a concerti fur the salvation of his soul.
Nor were these impressions ever alter
effaced from his mind, Under the minis
trations of his pastor, the Rev. Mr. Cute
lius,und subsequently those of the Rev.
Mr. Wagner, (by whom he was received
into the communion of the Church) he ad
vanced step by step in spiritual know!.
edge and grace. During this period of
his life (nt 1825) a discussion between a
Unitarian and a Presbyterian clergyman
was carried on in the public papers of
Milton, in reference to the doctrine of the
Atonement, in which he felt a great inter
est, and which aided him in no small de
gree in arriving at a clear and satisfactory
view of this important doctrine of the
Christian system. lie felt a deep person
al interest in the subject, and from that
he telt satisfied, that his salvation was
secured through fhe alone merits of Christ
crucified—and fully and entirely commit
ted himself to the blessed Redeemer.
Deeply itnpreAsed with the conviction,
that God hnd called him to the office of
THE JO
the Ministry, he availed himself of the
Academy at Milton, then under the care
of the Rev. Mr. Kirkpatrick, and for sev •
end years he walked the distance of 12 or
14 miles, daily, in going to and returning
from school.
In 1829 or '3O he entered the Theologi
cal Seminary then located at York, and
over which the Rev. Dr. Mayer presided.
Here he applied himself with all passible
diligenr acgo,' 'hue , quisite
wt
edge, with
It ! i.
Ise
ye
i•ct of
such sii
the Ott
mortal
spent in tire
of his Po oft.ssori,
of hi felluw-stutlenariiip
all who knew him
In 1832., the congregation in York be.
came vacant by the resignation of the Bev.
Mr. Belly, and the choice fell on Mr.
Cares, who wits then a ~tudent, and
scarcely 21 years of age. He shrunk
from assuming the pastoral duties of one
of the oldest and most difficult pastoral
charges in our connection. The locution
of our Literary and Theological Institu
tions in that place—the ability of his pre
decessors—his enrente youth and inex
perience, and his weli known modesty and
distrust of his abilities, were well calcula
ted to make him wish, to use his owe
words, "to go to a more retired and less
prominent field." But the solicitations
of the collie:Anon and the advice of
brethren in the Ministry at length pre
vailed with him. and in the fall of 1b32.,
he was licensed at the Sy nod in Freder
ick city, and shortly afterwarns ordained
and installed as the pastor of that congre
gation. It was his_fist and his only charge.
He loved his people, and his people loved
him. Although frequently called to other
and prominent fields of labor, he could
not see his way clear to abandon a people,
among whom God was ble,sing his labors
so richly, especially during the last two or
three years. Anil just at the time when
he was laid on the bed of sickness, an un
usual work of God's Grace was manliest
ing itself aiming it a people, ta au ext.•nt
perhaps unknown in the history of that
congregation. His spirit went up to Hea
ven, borne along, as it were, by the prayers
of a multitude of penitent and new-bore
souls, who were just beginning to know
how much he loved, and how ardently he
prayed for them.
In January last, he was attacked with
a severe cold, from which he had nut suf
ficienily recovered, when the special meet
ing of the Synod in Lebanon took place.
Still, in his anxiety to be present, he ven•
tured to go—and those brethren tt Ito were
present on that occasion, will emetnber,
the the was in much pain during the gre ter
part of the meeting, while• performing the
duties of his office as President. In re
turning to York, amid the severest of
weather, he increased hi. cold. 11..
preached on the succeeding Sabbath to his
people, and never perhaps did he feel
more anxious to continue to preach the
;o-pet, —for on the evening of that day,
numbers of his hearers began to inquire
after the Way of Life. But God was
about to teach him, that He can carry on
His work either with or without itistru.
mentality, just as he pleaseth. It was Mr.
Cares' last public efffirt in the pulpit.--
Naturally of a delicate constitution, his
strength soon gave way—a complication
of diseases ensued, and a local inflame
lion brought on his premature death— pre.
mature to us ; to his flock, and to the
Church, but we have reason to believe, not
to him. He wished to live longer, if it
had pleased God—but nut for his own
sake, but for Christ's and the Church's
sake.
Brother Cures was an able and success
ful preacher. He possessed talents of a
high order, and these were consecrated to
the cause of God and the welfare of souls.
Thousands have heard him, not only with
delight, but with profit. His sermons
were generally of a practical character.—
His •easonitg was clear. logical and to
the point. Few men of his age communi
cate as much with as few words as he did.
ills appeals to the conscience and heart,
were earnest, al ways allectionate, pungent,
and often eloquent and irresistible. He
preached both in the ' , lnglis!) and German
language, with an accuracy and a facility,
rat ely attainable by one man. We know
of no other man in our own or any other
Church, who was his superior in this re.
spect. More than once have we heard in
telligent persons express their astonish
ment, after hearing him in one language,
to learn that he preached in the other also
—and so well.
But what gave such weight to his public
labors was, the conviction which was un
aviiidable. in every mind, th it he spoke
from /he heart. His piety was ol the most
elevated character. So consistent in his
deportment—in the family —in the world
—in the pulpit —every where, he was the
sante sincere, straightforward, humble, af
fectionate, friend, brother and Christian.
A more amiable, disinterested, liberal,
and truly humble Christian we have never
"ONE COATRY, ONE COPT!
HUNTINGDON, PHNNSVLVANIA. WEDNESDAY. MAY 10, 1843,
known--and we knew him well and int , , a tiara diamonds. Those gems
',lately. His piety was enlightened, an 1 me of liN• eyes, which were of blm•
aided by his naturally sweet and amiable ense, and so brilliant, that you mis
disposition, it shone with a lustre, such as took them at first for black. And they
we but rarely meet with in this world. Re always spoke in advance of her lips. Her
was zealous, without bein sor Complexion was of a transparent white
denunciatory--liberal, wi as. softly bleadit.g on her cheeks with
—cheerful without levity' leach blossom hue, which is seldom pos•
out affectution,andamiabl sessed except by the daughters of the
ness. " Ocean Isle." Her parted lips, when she
It is no wonder, therefore, that such a smiled, disclosed a set of teeth, that al
man, and such a minister of the gospel, most seemed to reflect back the same
should upon his removal, be universally light as a bed of snow upon which the
lamented. It is no wonder, that the whole noonday sun was shining But that smile
town in which he lived and died, should —it was more sweet than gy. As you
feel sadness sod sort ow—nor that every lookcd upon her you felt, that it was not
minister who knew him, and indeed the the perfections which centered in her
whole church at large, should feel a pang person that rendered her beautiful. It
in parting with one, who was such t. c was the expression—the tnilliancy—nay
bur ling and shining light" in the Lord's --it was the reflection of a soul beaming
liouse. % e were permitted to enjoy the over all!
melancholy pleasur.. ol following his corpse I beckoned to my friend, ar,d, designs
to he grave, aura if ever we saw the sub- ling the lady who had arrested my alien
lime e tr•ci of olio al power tnanifested, it thin, said—'t Surely that must be Lady
was on that mourntul occasion. Here Bulwer:"
was the spectacle of an humble, retiring " You are right," he replied trium
minister of Jesu., just beginning to be phantly :—I made a be; that you would
known as to his real ability and worth— discover her, for when pre-mt there
and yet by th, graces which were wrought seems to be nobody else in the room. l•
in him by God' s Spirit, and modestly shine she not a magnificent
out to view, he had obtained a hold upon The history of Lady Bulwer was at that
an entire community, such as was scarcely time upon every lip. The envious bla
known before. The beautiful and corn. met!, the compassionate pititied, the dis
modious church, now ve.led in mourning, interested praised. But her conduct was
could contain but a tithe of the vast con. so unimpeachable, her character so un-
course who were eager to enter on the on- blemished, that the voice of slander was
casion of the funeral obsequies. And hush•:d in awe. Even calumny sought.
when the shrouded body of the departed nut to despoil her of her richest, almost
one was placed beneath the pulpit—and her only possession—her fair fame.
the mournfully sweet tones of the organ The day succeeding the ball given by
began to steal over the already subdued General Cass, I became personally ac
and sobbing congregation, the deep loan. quait•'ed with Lady Bulwer. For several
tains of feehog could only with difficulty months after that period I saw her almost
be suppressed. The Rev. Mr. Heiner, of lady, sometimes passing two or three
Baltimore, improved the occasion with a hours in her society. And the more inn
juiticious portraiture of tiie charrcter of the mutely I became acquainted with her. I
deceased. He had been for sonic time reproached mysel, fur ever hlving breath
his lrllow.studeut and knew him intimate- ed a word, or harbored a thought, to her
'
ly. The tribute which he paid to the I disparagement
character of his friend and
studiously tnoilet:aie.antl was listened to
with absorbing interest. The character of
I the departed pastor was too vividl im•
' pressed upon the minds of the hearers, nut
to feel the correctness ol the picture as it
was drawn before them. Lie Rev. Mr.
Lichinao, of !he Lutherian, church, tol
lowed with a brief and appi opriate address
in the German language, after which the
remains of brother Cares were deposited
in the cemetry adjoining the Chtirch.—
Qoietly awl peac4ully may they rest
there, until the morning of the Great Day!
From Sargent's New Monthly Magazine
fur April.
zap r BU.LIPER.
From the Portfolio of one who knew her.
BY HELEN BERKLEY.
it was in Paris during the winter of
1840, that I first beheld Lady Billwer.—
General Cass, the American Ambassador,
was giving one of the most splendid balls
of the season. About the time that his
magnificent suite of apartments began to
be oppressively crowded, a gentleman ap
proached flue and said, Let toe get out of
this throng There is something in the
boudoir, that is better worth seeing than
all these panting people, that look as if
they were going to melt away with heat.
Lady Hill wet is there. She Is a great
Lion. WOUld you not like to see her ?"
"Oh!yes," I replied, with so little in
terest in toy tone. that I now cannot help
feeling wonder and provocation at the re
collection of my own Itstle.s indilPtence.
You must discover her, then, without
my asuistance ;" said my friend. I
shall leave you while you make the ex
periment."
4. That will be rather difficult," I re
,urned: " for I have never heard her per
son described. However. I have no ob
jection to try my skill in Physiognomy."
We entered the boudoir. There was
not more than fifty persons assembled.--
My companion found me a seat, and reti
red, while I made a survey of the apart•
!tient, and endeavored to select the one
who bore most roseinblance to the portrait
in my imvzinatiou of Lady Bulwer. A
number of beautiful women were present.
Several of them belonging to the English
nobility. As my ryes glanced around the
room they were swot riveted, as by a spell,
upon the form of a majestic looking wo•
man, whose queen-like and pecuharly
graceful carriage was unequalled by the
bearirg of any that surrounded. She was
attired in a robe of crimson velvet. Its
long train, bordered with ermine, lay in
rich folds at her feet. Her form 'night
have been cousidered too expansive for
perfect beauty, were it not that faultless
symmetry made you forget the size in ad.
miration of the proportions. Her soft
dark hair was simply parted on the whi
test of foreheads, and its exuberant tress•
es gathered into one graceful knot behind.
Her exquisitely moulded head was encir-
STITU E DESTINY
!'A:' Hu!wet., then Rosins Wheeler.
wasmarried at the age of eighteen, to Mr.
Bulwer, now Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer.
She gave him her heart and hand, and had
every reason to believe that he returned
his own, until she discovered that he was
not embarrassed with so troublesome a
possession. Before slie had been married
a year, she had proofs, too incontestible, of
her husband's being a lawless and re
tnorsely libertine. But she was then
about to become a mother, and, what will
not a woman endure for the sake of her
child What will not a woman, who
loves, or has loved, forgive ? On the birth
of that child, in who..e endearment she had
fondly hoped to find consolation for the
neglect and cruelty of her husband, hi.
tyranny assumed a new and more dread
ful shape. Almost before the young
mother was considered out of danger, her
infant, in spite of her expostulations, and
prayers and tears, was taken front her and
placed under the charge of a wet nurse,
who resided several miles from London.
Bulwer declared that lie would not permit
his wife to become a nurserymaid ; that
children were his detestation ; and that
the noisy little imp" should he kept at
a respectable distance. Lady Bulwer
did not submit to this unnatural and des.
pude decree without remonstrating. But
her grief and entreaties only called forth
the most virulent abuse from her inflexible
husband. After this incident he neglec
ted her more than ever, and not onfre
quently, in his moments of ungovernable
passion, she was forced to submit to per
sonal violence.
She again became a mother, and lt , r
child was a son. Through the influence
of a compassionate physician. the child
was left under her care, and her little
daughter recalled from exile. The wile
and mother was now comparatively happy.
When her husband was at home she could
only visit the nursery by stealth, but he
generally spent his slays anti nights in
dissipation, and seldom troubled her w ith
his undesirable society. But in his ab.
sense she was continually subjected to the
persecutions of his mother, who was origi
nally opposed to the marriage, and showed
an open detestation of her daughter • in-law
from the beginning.
This woman became a spy upon Lady
Bulwer's actions, awl was continually
exciting Bulwer's anger against his wit',
This stale of affairs continued until the
daughter was about six sir seven Yeats old.
The grandmother then declared that the
child must have a governess. Bulwer
agreed with her, and procured the desired
governess.
And now, indeed, Lady Bulwer's
ery soon baffled description. . She was not
permitted to have a voice in any thing
that concerned the child. Her studies,
her dress, her exercise, her food, were all
at the command of the governess. And
this lady in authority slid nut scruple to
tell the anxious mother, whet she remon
strated, that such were Sir Edward's or
ders. Lady Bulwer complained to her
husband. Bet he sornoirn,s 13i/ ea(' in
NA L.
her face, and told her the woman was as
competent a person as could be found,
" and retry pretty withal;" and at other
times he flew tutu a rage, and forbade her
mentio:,ing the subject.
Before many months elapsed, Ludy
Bulwer certainly discovered that this un
fortunate woman was, beyond a doubt,
another of her husband's victims. The wo
man herself evinced no shame at her situa
tion; but, elated at the helplessness of Lady
Bul wet., and her supposed superiority, as
seined perfect control over the household.
Lady Bel wee's orders to the domestics
were t ountermunded, her most trivial ar•
rangements interfered with, and her chil
dren invariably ordered to theirstudies, pre
cisely at the hour which she had appointed
for taking the air with them. Thus she
was annoyed and irritated in every man
ner by a person who made her degredation
the excuse for her assumption of authority.
Once more she appealed to her husband,
and, it may have been angrily insisted,
that the governess stood(' be discharged.
lie replied, that she should remain as long
as it suited his convenience, and when the
answered him, he struck her a blow
which felled her to the ground ! What
resource hail she ? She was fatherless and
brotherless—poor and an orphan, while he
was all powerful. She lived but for her
children, and for theii sakes endured even
this indignity.
A few days after this last occurrence,
she received an insult from the govet ness,
which exceeded in grossness every former
impertinence. It was Irate in the evening,
and for once her husband was at home.—
She sought the parlor, where he was luxu
riating over his wine nod segar, and,repent
ing to him what had occurred, added :
I will bear it no longer—l cannot bear it
any longer. Either Miss must
leave the house, or I shall leave it. You
may choose between the wo."
Certainly," replied Hui wer with pro
yoking calmness, "I have chosen long ago.'
You shall leave it. And sinceyou hue.l
up, j ou, 1111110 Li/ (1011 totem'
to give you your own time. You shall
puck off at once—this very moment—and
Miss remain where she is. t have
promised her my protection, and she shall
have it."
Lady Bulwer acknowledged that she
was deeply incensed. She hastily left
the rosin, went up stairs and told her two
bewildered children to put ins their cloaks
and bonnets. Bulwer soon followed her
to demand why she was not gone. She
walked from the apartment, leading her
children, and without replying. He ac
companied her, saving with mock gallant
ry : Permit me the pleasure of closing
the door upon you, madam."
This act of politeness he in reality per
formed. but not without hastening it by
giving his wife a rude push. The miler
tuilate mother and luckless children
sought protection under the hospitable
roof of Mrs. Hume, who resided at a very
short distance, And wltn had been Lady
Bulwer's bo.orn fr.end from childhood.
That the above isle is strictly true I
have other testimony besides the words of
Lady Bulwer. Before leaving Paris I
became acquainted with NI r. flume, the
husband of the lady at whose house she
sought refuge ; and he vet ified to me the
history of her misfortunes and wrongs.
It was about a year after the publication
of " Cheveley," that I became acquaint
ed with Lady Bulwer. She was resoling
in Paris as the only city in which she
could live respectable on her scanty in•
come. She had many friends there, and
was universally courted. But her thoughts
were occ• pied by her children ; and she
wan daily forming some new pi 'jell to re
gain them. Baker was then living open
ly in London with the governess who hail
created his domestic disturbance, and who
was then the mother of several of his chil
dren. Worse than this, Lady But wer's
unfortunate little ones were under the
care of this infamous woman ; and brought
up with her illegaimate progcny! It was
dreadlul enough for their mother to feel
that they were no longer under her guid
ance ; but to know that they were subject
ed to the most contaminating influence—
inhaling an atmosphere of vice--their
pure spirits becoming accustomed to
ini
quity--she would sometimes say that to
hear they were dead would be compara
tive happiness!
She experienced great pleasure in the
conviction, that her children cherished
her memory in spite of their long separa
tion. On entering, her apartment one day
I observed that her eyes were swollen with
tears, and her manner unusually agitated.
I ventured to inquire whether she had re
ceived news front London I Pointing to
a passage in an open letter, she said with
deep emotion- 1 , Read that. My poor
boll he has not forgotten his mother!"
l'he letter was from a friend in London.
The passaw,c contained the following an•
ecdote. Bulwer was sitting in hit draw
ing-room, which was filled withcompany,
when lady Bulwer's little son, then about
eight or nine years of age, entered the
a prtr.lt t tithe
[WrioLE No. 381•
knee. Bulwer had not teen the child for
some time. After looking at him fur it
moment, without speaking, he turned to
the gentleman beside him, and remarked,
with a frown. " He's devilish like his
mother!" The boy heard him, looked up,
with indignation glowing on his fine coun•
tenance, and said : "lies devilish glad
I) . f al, sir!"
_ .
Lady Bulwer's peculiar expressions in
conversation, the force and vigor of her
language, left deeper impressions on my
mind, than those of almost any other per.
son, with whom I ever conversed. When
we were talking over the impossibility of
her taking a divorce, and thus recovering
her children, without the possession of
a larger sum of money than she had any
prospect of commanding, she would say ;
" England boasts of her laws ; and she has
good ones. But men made them to pro.
Sect themselves—to guard beasts and birds
from injury—they framed no law to shield
the woman.
At another time, when I was vainly
trying to persuade her that she would in
the end receive justice even from a harsh
judging public, she replied: Ido nut
doubt it. There is a species of justice
that comes to all, when death has placed
them beyond the reach of injury ; but the
sun that shines on our graves cannot ben•
efit our bones."
She was rather apt to be severe, though
generally there was much of playfulness
even in her severity, upon the whole male
sex. She did not disguise her belief that
interest was the only barrier that could
prevent them from gratifying their worst
passions. I once said to her laughingly,
when she was thawing a half ludicrous,
half stern picture of the male character :
"Come, come; you should not speak so
without making some exceptions ; remem
ber I have a husband." She answered in
s tone, the mingled bitterness arid sadness
of which I shall never forget : I have a
husband too; or perhaps I should not
"WeVe cn ;peered to be a union of oppo
sites in the character of Lady Bulwer.—
Though strikingly spirited in her manner;
always sell-possessed, quick to decide and
prompt to act, though she was gifted with
j peculiar tact in repelling the advances of
I a fop, who believed her accessible, be•
cause she was unprotected ; and thought
her very glance commanded respect from
the most frivolous, yet gentleness, grace
and suavity, were her especial attributes.
I had many opportunities during my
residence in Paris of becoming acquainted
with the firmness and energy ot Lady
Bulwer's character. I also witnessed
sott:e of the persecutions to which she was
even then subjected by her tnisguided
husband. One instance in particular, by
which all Paris was kept in a state of ex
citement for several days, is worthy of re
curd. If a man is an ordinary villain, at
least half the world will give him the
credit of being a monster. But if the at
' trocities he commits are of a more hein
ous nature than the imagination can read
ily picture, then they surpass belief, and
he is generally considered a tolerably
good sort of a person, who has been un
justly traduced. This is Bulwer's case t
and I should not expect the history I am
about to relate to gain credence, were it
not authenticated by the publicity, which
it obtained at tht time, and by the !acts,
which were brought to light before a court
ot justice.
Lady Bulwer had in her possession se-
veral letters, from her husband, tilled
with fearful menaces antrthe most insult
ing accusations. Bolwer, when informed
by ladyßolwer's lawyer of the existence
of those papers, said, in reply, Ido th,..
sure you, the letters are mere forger/ea.--
I never wrote any thing of the kind in
my life,"
"But my clear sir," replied the lawyer,
" admitting that the hand-Writing. mid
your own seal might have been imitated,
the post-marks could not have been forg
ed. knd then a woman would hardly
mite herself the accusations the letters
contain."
Bulwer, in the haste and blindness of
his excitable passions, not seeing the snare
in which he waa caught, retorted; " Let
me tell you, sir, that every word of these
accusations is true." In one breath he
denied all knowledge of the letters, in the
nest he showed himself so perfectly ac
quainted with their contents, that he was
ready to maintain their truth and justice!
These papers he became exceedingly
anxious to regain, as they might be some
time used to his disadvarOage. In the
daily habit of framing fictitious plots to
delight the public, he now essayed to form
one which should be realized in actual lila
for his own private gratification.
Lady Bulwer was then residing in Par
is, and her husband in London. Her
femme de chambre, who was much attach
ed to her, was one evening way-laid in the
street by a couple of men. They com
menced conversation by saying they knew
her to be in Lady Bulwer'a employment,
and that they had something to comm
.t '2• or ~ e:• ic: to Ur
.3att,