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'With sweetest flowers enrieti'd
Front various Gardens culPd with care."
TO THE EVENING STAR
STAR Or the west!--thy dewy beam
Looks o'er our mingled joy and we—
/Reflected in the Massy strenm,
Thou deign's( to light the world belpw;
While the wnver ripple their reply
To the low breeze's evening sigh.
Star or the west!—when Nature sleeps,
And the last glance of day is gone,
And when the balmy dery drop weeps,
Tltou shin'st and sparklest there alone,
And throw'st thy ray of silver light
On the dun breast of coming night.
Star of the west!—whose glories born,
As if to guard while we are sleeping.
Ere we retire, to thee we turn,
And gaze where thou thy watch art keeping
Thy gentle influence o'er us shed, '
And with sweet slumbers bicolour bed!
And Thou, who road'st the glorious star,
And guid'st it through its heavenly tligh
Who guard'st us wheresoo'er we are,
Through radiant day or gloomy night;
Oh, shed around the willing heart
The light that never can depart!
VEta bE:JaV(DI2Y?o
The Nature of Betrtithment
From "Courtship and Marriage."
DY TIIE REV. J. M. DAVIS.
What is the nature of a betrothmenfl—
And what are the circumstances which will
render it null and void
First—l remark that a matrimonial en•
gagement does not consist in . any of the
civilities ai•d courtesies of life which a gen
tleman may extend to a lady.
, It is not anfrequently the case, however,
'that these are mistaken for declarations of
love, and the announcement is made at once
that such persons are engaged. Such is the
imprudence of friends often, and more fre
quently of the ladv herself, that the common
politeness and attention, which are ever due
• between the sexes, are construed into pro
posals for matrimony, and a young gentle
man hears the report of his engagement,
while, as yet, not even a dream of the thing
has passed through his own mind. By such
imprudence the lady severs herselffrom the
society, perhaps, of an honourable and pol
ished mind, and brings upon herself and
. friends the mortification and disappointment
which would inevitably follow in such cases.
y'a gentleman attend a lady to church; if hi.
escort her to the public assembly; if he
walk with her in the street; if. he odcattinn
_illy visit her for the sake oflffir'good socie
- . .ety, the report is not unfrequently set on foot,
by some mischief-inaker,or indiscreet friend
• that the parties are engaged to be married.
•,••••
Second—Neither does an engagement
consist . in any politeness or social intelicourse
ii which a lady may extend to e gentleman.
There are young gentlemen. however, of
such consumate vanity as to simpose that
such treatment is nothing less than the
strongest intimation of personal attachment.
If a Ludy so much as look at them they fancy
that it must be a love affair, and equivalent
to the most direct proposals for matrimony.
smile, a compliment, a social interview,
--- kh walk or ride of pleasure, is set down by
such conceited coxcombs, as the nest une
quivocal dela ration oflove. They tell ofthe
conquest they have made with an air ofl
triumph, and never know their mistake Hl'
they learn it in that reserve and neglec
which their conduct so licitly deserves.
1 hird—Neither does an eniTagemee
consist in any of • these preliminary steps
• •-:which aro so important, in order to a just
'i, , istiMate of the character and qualifications
--cstlfikt person with whom you wou1:1 be uni •
: tti4 i life.
.;:any persons, however, imagine that
,7'•:-• , every such step is a step a . cominittni.—
Tighile the individual is only forming that
Y.:•&sttise estimate, and making those judicious
`::investigations which every one is bound to
make in this affair, by a regard to his own
'-happiness and that of others, he is consider
ed as fairly committed,without the posibility
'`' of honourable retreat. But this is all wrong,
whether it be the sentiment ofindividuals,
or public sentiment. The very object of
:his researches is to ascertain if the charac.
tot and qualifications of the persori are such
as will make him a happy companion (fir
life. Without such investigation, he might
as well commit his interest in this matter to
a lady whom he had never beheld. He
might as well be betrothed, as hoe' hen chil.
drop by their parents,
.without his consent
or knowledge, and while vet in a state of in
fancy. He might as well blindfold himself
. ,
and rush into a great assembly, and select
',a companion at random. Parents mu.t sup.
• 'pose their daughters little less than angels,
if they expect to betroth them in this man•
filer. And if young ladies are so superficial
i . characte r and accomplishment , as not to
n mit of such honourable and wise scrutiny,
1
t ey had better give up the idea of marriage . 1
ife, and become nuns at once Such should
i )be the sentiments on this subject, that every
• young gentleman should fee, himselt at lib.
erty to make every necessary investigation
of character, witheut subjecting him •elf to
the report of being engaged, or of other
than honourable intentions, if, disappointed,
• he sees fit to retire. •
Folirth.—Neither does nn engagement
consist in the most unqualified declaration of
loveron the part of either the gentlemen or
the lady. This may all be, yet no obliga
tions are • assumed—no contract is formed.
And yet there are those who 'suppose that
such declarations of attachment impose an
obligation on their friend, which cannot be
resisted or violated. • The gentleman, whose
province it always is first to mike stick die•
clfisures, considers that when lo; l o s s clone
this, he' has secured, by right, his object.
But not so. The 'lady may be wholly.un•
prepared for such an event. Such a disclo
sure may be made before she has made the
necessary inquiries and investigations her
self. Such a declaration may be made
when she had no. suspicion of any attach
mem existing, and whilst her own engage
'Denis and cilcurnstanres' do not admit of
her entertaining such proposals for a mo•
ment.. It is true, such a disclousure on the
part of the gentleman imposes certain duties
on the female. If her circumstances are
such as to render no engagement imposei•
hie, she is bound by every principle to nc•
quaint him immediately with the fact, and
keep the transaction n secret. If her cir•
cumstatices are such as to render it proper
for her to enter Into. a matrimonial engage.
went, it. is proper then that she make his
proposals a matter of immediate and serious
consideration. If she is satisfied with his
character, and entertains such an affection
for him as will render a union with him hap•
pv, she has nothing left but to make known
to him, in a modest and affectionate man
ner hnr acceptance of his proposals. But,
if after due consideration, and inquiry, and
deliberatioff; she is conducted to a contrary
conclusion, she should lose no time in in•
forming him of the fact, in a way least like
ly to wound his sensibilities or mortifying
his pride. She will consider it, too both a
dictate of modesty, and prudence, and hon•
our, to disclose the circumstance to no liv•
inc being.
Fifth.—A matrimonial engagement, then
is when the parties, having made mutual
disclosures of of for each other, in
view of such disclosures bind themselves.
to promises, to become each other's wedded
companion for life. There must be a con
tract fiirrned, in which the parties pledge
thern.elves to each other for life, or there
can be no matrimonial engagement. Noth
ing short of this cnn be accounted a betroth
ment, and nothing more is necessary to
perfection.
MY FIRST LOVE.
EY THOMAS MILLER., .
Had eve never loved so kindly,
Had wo never loved so blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We bad never been broken-hearted.
BeaNS
Blessed art thou, oh Memory! who canst
at once waft me over the dim foot path o
bygone years to the green hills where my
forefathers lived. Who canst again bring
the sweet music of that voice upon mine
ears; which bath long ago been hushed.
Thou hest indeed been a light in the dark-
ness, illuminating the gloomy recesses of
the mind, when Hope pilbawed her head.
upon the lap of despair, and Care had no
one but sorrow to hush her, when even Pa.
tience was wearied, and Resignation had
turned to marble. When the heart was
heavy, and cold, and dejected, and tried to
shrink from its own beatings, then halt thou
come, sweet Memory. upon the beam' of
the blue. starlight, and whispered me to
sleep with murmurings dreamy-voiced,
sounds not so loud aa the dancing leave.
when they move and make no noise. And
thou hest borne me away to Ihe green val
es of my childhood, whore my fnir•hnirer
p ay•mates were in waitine, who n Time
wore golden ringlets, and we dandle-! with
his long hair, never believing that it would
grow gray, when he threw his ecythe among
the flowers, never deeming that it was keen,
and made a toy of, his glass not knowing
that we gave speed to its sand.
Oh Margaret, where art thou now? thine
eyes may be dark, thy lips mute, and thy
cheeks wan, but where is thy love? the
kindlintr of thy spirit, that impreknated the
air with delight when we met; surely it he
longed not to Time or Death. Oh no! it
only became heavier when thou wert dead,
and settled upon me like a leaden cloud, an
oppressive mantle that was cold; even when
I drew it tightly around me, it afforded me
no warmth. And when Our lips met in the
still night, thine were chill and shadowy,
and though they shrank not, they had lost
their fullness, and melted awav like the
mist, and when they moved there came
forth no sound, it they blessed me it was in
silence.
Dead! no, thou art not dead. Nay, I
have not yet spoken to thee. What a lovely
summer's evening that was when I wander.
ed into Lea wood with Shakspeare's TEM
PEST for a companion. I had never read it
before. Oh, how I envy the youth who
has such an old wont! to walk in, and the
‘Temnest' to read for the first time, and the
soul of a poet to enjoy its beauties, for then
will the branches of hoary trees twist thetn• I
selves into the rigging of shins, and every
whispering leaf will sound like the oceat,,
and every rustling footstep in the grass hiss
like a breaker upon the beach. The birds
will become mariners, the sky be darkened
with foliage, the sinking sun dart like light
ning through the gloom, and away he wi I
bound to the lonely island, inhabited
Prospero, !Miranda, Ariel, and Caliban.—
Ohl it was summer then! she had come
again, waving her green garlandry over hill
and valley, and heeding . the long grass with
her breezy fontstens. She had spread her
gorgeous mantle of crimson heath bells over
the wide forestastes and brown moors,
and left a deeper twilight in the dense
woods. That evening l'heard her voice
talking among the Nig leaves, and babbling
through the green corn, and I
caught her
fragrant breath as I. passed through the
hayfield. I saw her skiev eyes mirrored
in
e rivers, and the skirts of her golden
drapery trailing over a thousand flowers.—
She touched the leaves with her sunny fin.
gers and they bounded upon their braliches
in rustling music; the willow nodded before
her, and the poppy - waved the rich velvet of
its banner as she rssed. I heard Ariel
-'Under tho blossoms that bun en the
"I WISH NO 'OTHER HERALD, NO OTHER SPEAKER OF Mlir LIVING ACTIONS, - TO KEEP 'RINE HONOR . FROM 0 - 0/IRDPTI " N.."=•••SIKAKiI
saaewlr wawa:alga. 4 ) 42.0 9 artumix,alro oacwaaNuatraut vo amo
No, it was no voice, but my heated fan.
cV; and I closed Shakspeare, for the rain
fell in torrents, and the thunder roared like
a thousand lions among the echoes of the
forest, and the lightning flashed frightfully
at intervals, lighting up for a moment the
dusky dells; then again leaving all in dark
ness. On I wandered, in the blind mazes
of the wood. now extricating myself from
some bramble; then again dashing through
a river of long grass, or rustling through
the rain-drenched fern, until at length, at
the meeting of two avenues, I came in con
tact with an elderly man. He wore a long
frock, and grasped in his band a stick. I
looked at him, and thought of Prospero,
with his magic garment and
. wand. He
opened his lips, but instead of talking about
"cloud capped towers, and gorgeous palaces
and solemn temples," he invited me to his
cave until the storm abated. He was a
kind magician; by the side of his cottage
were piled logs of wood; but I saw not Fer
dinand. Cnliban barked as we entered.—
Oh! what a lovely vision burst upon me as
I entered that cave (for Shakspeare was
still with me) it was indeed a beauteous he
trig, :ovely as his own Miranda What mu
sic hung on her tongue, as she inquired "if
her father was wet;" and then she reached
me a chair, and threw more logs upon the,
fife, "which when they burnt, did weep for
having wearied her." Never had so much
beauty met mine eye—
So perfect and so peerless, as if created
Of every creature's best.
Like Ferdinand. I soon became a "pa
!lent lay-man" for her sake, and piled up
the fire to dry my clothes, happy that the
tempest had driven me to such a lovely
place. Then I thought of Shakspenre and
the cave, of Juan and Haidee, Calypso and
her lovely nymphs; weaving- in. the won :
drous cavern, her heart aching at the crash
of every tree, which, like the clicking pen
dulum, told of Uulysses' departure, of Rosa-
Itnd and Orlando in the wood, and the fair
lady in ComuS, and then I gazed upon my
Miranda.
Never had Poet, in his happiest mood of
wind, conju'red up a fairer form; never did
i lovelier being pass before the imagination
of the bard, when he lay dreaming of Viola,
by the murmuring waters of Avon. Her
eyes were bright as Desdemona's,when they
were lighted with love and wonder, listen
ing to Othello telling
Of most disastrous chances,
Or moving accidents by flood and field.
Of hair-breadth 'scenes th' imminent deadly
breach.
Her father had read Shakspeare, and she
was also familiar with the immortal poet,
and merrily rung their laughter as they
compared me to Ferdinand, and their ow
sweet cottage to the cave t and the wet frock
to Prospero's magic garment, and the stick
to his wand. and the huge shepherd dog to
Caliban, and the old wood to the lonely
island, and their own blackbird to 'dainty
riel." And Margaret blushed when 1
compared her to Miranda, and parted her
long• tressoq from her lovely forehead, and
looked down upon the floor, and swung her
fairy foot to and fro, and the fire light fell
upon her fair neck, and it shone like a col
iimn °livery in the sunset. And I thought
how delightful it would be to wander with
her "To the best springs, to pluck her ber
ries, to gather her wood enough; to . bring
her to where the crabs grew, to show her
a jay's nest, and to instruct her how to snare
the nimble marmozet, to show her where
the clustering filberts hung, and gather
young sea-gulls from the rocks." Nay,
to do more than ever Caliban promised Ste-
phano, and had not her Gather been by, I
dare have said. "Wilt thm go with me?"
* * •
ALL FOLLY. -Mr. Joseph Folly, of
Ohio, lately advertised his wife for leaving
"his bed and board." His wife, in return,
says the "board was very hard as well as
the bed." This was not only a foolish, but
a very hard case.
VEGHTABLEB.—"The best vegthetable,"
said a lisping old maid, to a friend, "that
ever 1 eat, oath a clam."
A citizen remarked in company that he
had never seen an ear of rye in his life. A
young lady then present, whose name was
Miss Rye, showed one of her ears and said,
"Here, sir, is an ear of Rye, which if you
please you may. behold. The gentleman
immediately caught hold of her ear, and
gave it a pinch . . 'Nay, madam, said he, 'you
have a very wry face too."
Scut:firm= COAL TRADE.—We learn
from the Pennsylvania Miner's Journal that
"810 boats, loaded with coal, have descend
ed the Schuylkill from Pottsville, during the
present season, carrying 3'70,309 tons of
coal. The shipments of the week ending
on the 22d inst. amounted to 261 boats, car
rying 13,633 tons.
boughs." I saw him et-pitching "where the
bee sucked in the bell of a cowslip." But
I was a youth then, scarce sixteen; how
very old has ten years made me; it will be
long again befOre every maiden [mks like
Miranda. It will be long before I see an
other Margaret, and I can never forget. the
'Tempest,' never grasp it again as "a beauty
and a mystery." Hark! how it thunders;
could it be my own fancy kindled by Shak
spea re—crack, crack!— no, it was no dream.
The goodlivit tree of the forest fell with
that crash—what a night was that—how
the scythe:winged lightning flashed through ;
the wood. I heard the sound of mariners
in distress, arid a voice came upon my ears,
singing, .
Full fathom five thy father Iles;
Of his hones are coral made;
Those aro pearls that were his eyes,
Nothing of him doth fade."
VARIETY'.
The horn—the horn is sounding nigh,
The huntsmen onwards ride;
With hawk and hound right cheerily,
To try your covert's side;
The chase is strayed—but not for me,
It loiters in the dell;
.
It tempts not, when away from thee,
Sweet Isabel!
MY hunting knife rusts on the wall,
My falcon droops his wink.;
My dogs ~whine loudly in the hall,
To hear the summons ring. •
O'er thicket, flood, and upland lea,
Again its echoes Mitch;
It tempts'net, when away from thee.
Sweet Isabel !
The time has been, its lightest blast-
Had bade me hurry on;
No foot that to the greenwood past,
With steps so free had gone.
The field, as then, is fair to See,
But though it promise well,
It tempts not, when away from thee,
Sweet Isabel !
Father Drink , d and ✓?lother Drink'd.
I was riding with my daughter through that
part of Roxbury, which is called the Canterbury
road, when we passed a very ragged and barefooted
little boy about ten years , of age. , We were mov
ing slowly, and I soon perceived my chase to be
inclining backward, and I inferred that the child
we had passed had gotten on behind. I stopped
the horse, without uttering a word, wlien the little
fellow let go his hold, and, passing the chase, run
rapidly forward in evident terror..
„ He is frightened out of his wits,” said my dough
"He is probably accustomed to such treatment,"
I replied. Setting my horse forward we were fast
overtaking the little runaway, whose cry of alarm
was now distinctly audible. We were soon up
with him,and perceiving the impossibility of escape,
he suddenly stopped. He was crying bitterly, as
he stood with his bare feet turned inward, his tat
tered knees knocking together, and his right arm
held over his eyes.
"What's the matter, my poor boy," said I, as I
got out of my chaise.
"I thoughty4M would have beat me," he replied.
"No, my poor child," said 1, .4 have no such
ntention."
t a oDo you get a beating often?"
-;‘Yes, sir, said he.
Patting the little fellow on the head, which was
easily done, for he had no crown on his hat, "who
beats you?" said I, "your father?
"I have no father," said he, "father's dead, and
hg gave way to a flood of tears. • -,!:! !
• Mere was something touching in the lip
of this ragged, barefooted, fatheylesii . ,,
daughter ccillld not refrain from weeping.
"Your mother beats you then," said I.
"Mother's dead too," said he.
"And whom did: they die?" I enquired.
"In the poor house," replied - the little orphan.
"And what got them into the poor house,"
said I.
~ F ather drink'd and Mother drink'd," said he.
The fitther and mother of the orphan child were,
at one time, respectable residents of Roxbury.—
The father pursued at one time a lucrative em
ployment, in which ho was , particularly skilful.—
Rum reduced him and his wife to wretchedness,
and left their ollbpring, who is the subject of this
painful recital, the poor, pennyless orphan child
of a drunken father and drunken mother. [N. Y. Sun.
ADVANTAGE OP A Comr.norrolv.—During the
season of heavy rains a farmer's wifo sent her maid
to a neigboring village on an errand, and scolded
her on her return for staying so long. "Indeed,"
said the girl, whose clothes were dripping with wet,
you may. bo glad to see me at all, for the brook is
so swollen that I missed my footing and fell in;
and had it not been for Providence and another
woman, I certainly should have drowned.'
A
•AFFECTATION.—Evory thing is affectation
which is not natural. Yet how often is that good
breeding which proceeds from sensibility and deli
cacy of feeling, and which cannot be mistaken by
sensible persons, less esteemed than tho mimicry
of mere - artificial characters. Persons who are
accustomed to take others in high life for guides,
do not seem to know that those exist•who can be
guides unto themselves.
Sir Thomas Moore used to say to his ail
dren:—
•
"Let virtue bo your meat, and amusement your
sauce."
TUIINIP CUAMPAGNE.-A Now York paper
says that nine-tenths of the champagne made in
France and drank in this country, is made of tur
nips.
A selfish friendless man is like an icicle, with
out warmth, feeling or any attracting qualities.—
A blasted tree, sapless and leafless.
Why is the extraction of a decayed tooth like
the price of a lot of land? . Because it's ao much
for an ache-er.
i',..There is more real talent in finely managed
shades of contrast, than in the extreme of opposi
tion; the principal figures of a picture gains, when
more of the figure in the piece are sacrificed to it.
a4lozroasstcs.---Ignprance is of atiteculiar na
ture;—once dispelled, it is impossible to re-estatP•
bah it. It is not originally a thing of itself, but it
is only the absence of knowledge; and, though
man may bo kept ignorant, he cannot be made so
when once informed.
cc.Custuersa.—There are cases in which it
is as impossible to restore character to life, as it is
to recover the dead. It is a Phcenix that can ex
pire but once, and from whose ashes there is no
resurrection:
0: - 1.When love is consecrated to a legitimate
object, it is the enthusiasm of virtue.
(0 -Every vice makes the. possessor odious,but
pride end ennity more then any other. Pride ha 4
SONG.
it is already known to many, is now in our
cit . ); and on Sunday night last, lectured to a
groups of hearers, of both sexes, at Tam
many Hall. If any one woman more than
another in our country, has been instru
mental in disgracing her sex and herself,
that woman is Frances Wright. With a
mind a little above the common order, and
an education se , cient to puff her, up with
an idea of her own importance, this import
ed abomination, by the dissemination of her
diabolical doctrines, has been enabled to
poison the minds .of many of our fair, coun
try-women—to tnsinuate into, their soft bo
soms the insidious serpent of vice, and to de
grade them as low in moral chastity as she
is herself in every virtuous and amiable
principle. That the ut.blushing impudence
of this foul slander on the name of Woman,
should be tolerated by any who profess to
venerate the virtues of the sex, or who en
teri
tam the least regard for decency, is to us
matter of astonishment. Yet ro it is. Men
and women are found, silly, or stupid, or
no friend; his thoughts set worth above himself,
and all others under it. There is a kind of dis
dainful scorn written in his brow. and gesture,
that seems to say, am too good for thy com
pany.'
con-Not to know any thing of a science, bu
that portion of it which individually belongs to 1129
is to apply the division of • labOr to the liberal stn`
dies, when it is only adapted to the mechanic arts:
. . .
..
a-liTo know perfectly what we know gives a
quietness to the mind, which resembles the sada.
fitetion of a confidence.
ccyrhat which characterises genuine' poetry,
and renders it in some measure a iospet to the
world, is the internal satisfaction with which it in-
spires us;—a faculty which raises us
. above our
selves, and free us froui. the - heavy..yoke of our
earthly failings.
c-Cnciirr Alan Mouror.—Credit is often no
more than an opinion; and the difference iietween
credit and money is, that money requires no opin
ion to support it.
().Discusstezr oY Por.yrics.—The principles
and conduct of any government must be bad, when
that government dreads and startles at discussion,
and seeks security by a prevention of knowledge.
j.Man has a great empire over man; and of
all the evils ho can do his fellow-creature, tho
greatest perhaps is to place the phantoms of ridi
cule between generous emotions and the actions
they would inspire.
(a.Mtoirrr Pazrry.—lt often happens that a
slight emotion draws tears which are frozen in
their cells by stronger and deeper ones.
ojOf all impressions ,reverie is precisely that
which is most solitary; ;we can .hardly communi•
cam its inspirations to the most intimate friend.
ozyPolemie writers are men who arrange their
rank and file chimeras with precision, and fancy
that they form an army.
i:l3-Ridicule, though trifling in appearance, is
often found , to consist with great depth of malice.
ryThe present, when it can be contemplate(
apart from recollections and apprehensions, is stil
the happiest moment of existence.
o::)>The object of a chaste, yet ardent passion
is much less than a wife, but far more than a sis
ter.
oFrst love, in an uncorrupted heart, pone
trams the whole soul; it is allsentiment, and spit
ituality.
The New York Star says, the "recusant"
girls of Lowell have sent in their adhesion,
and tho factory wheels are again in lively
motion.
CoMMUNICATIoN BETWEEN TULATLAN.
TIC AND PACIFIC.—A correspondent at Ba
gota, writes the Editor , of the Pennsylva
nian that the river Chagres, emptying into
the Carribbean sea, is navigable to steam•
boats drawing six feet water, to within fir
teen miles of Panama, on the Pacific. This
distance could be improved by a rail road as
easily as that from Philadelphia to Norris
town, by which a conveyance can be had
from the Atlantic to the Pacific, in six
hours. The writer adds;:
"The bread stuffs, provisions and mann.
factures of the United States will find a
ready market in the Pacific twenty days
after leaving our sea ports, instead of being
exposed to a voyage of three months around
Cape Hern, during which time the flour
and provisions are frequently damaged by
being so long confined in the holds of ves
eels in those warm climates.
Our whale ships in the Pacific will be
enabled to transmit promptly to the . United
States any quantity of oil, however small,
instead of being detained for years in accu•
mulating a stock sufficient to justify a voy-
age around the Cape.
The provisions, naval stores and seamen
for our national and private ships, will find
a cheap conveyance across the Isthmus,
and the slightest indication of an European
war could be communicated to our Pacific
squadron in twenty days from Washington
city.
Omtrions.--In a severe gale on Lake
Michigan, on the 3rd instant, the Schooner
Martin Van Buren was-entirely wrecked,
and the Schr. Gen. Harrison had her side
stove in and sunk. The steamer Daniel
Webster lost her bowsprit, but rode out the
storm triumphantly.
From the Now York TranecripL
Frances Wright Darusmont.
This priestess of infidelityand atheism,
MEM
[VOL. 7--NO. 32.
besotted enough, to go and sit by the hour,
and hear this petticoa tad, vagabond utter her
impious foolries; and stand erectia auribus,
to catch the hoarse :Citchinations' of her
voice, nit she. rants aliont a religion she is
purposely incapable of comprehending/ and
deals out damnations dgaittat morals, - order,
government and law, when standing in op.
posit ion to her revolutionary protects - Lew
indeed, must infidelity have sunk,'whetil it
condescends to listen' to the ravings uf
wretched bedlainite; and bard put to itmust
its booted reason be fir an advocate, when
it is compelled to employ this Hecate oilier
sex to deal out -its dispensations in . public
harangue& *'
•
On the night 'in question,hoWertirOne
infidel oratris, launched her barque" boldly
into the political waters, and' talked' shout
banks, and currency, and monopolies, with
as flippant a tongue as though she, had been
a bear on 'change. ' 'For this impertinent
interference with matters that are none of
her business, nor the business of het ~ex,
some of her enlightened auditoni greatly
applauded her, and seemed to be as com.
pletely captivated by her attempts to anni
hilate banks, as, they end have been by her
blasphemous efforts to -dethrone a God.
WWI this withering curse in the shape
of a women, we wish nothing more to do
then to warn all virtuous, females—if any
such there be' who attend to witness her m
cantations—to beware of the fatal tendency
of her doctrines; and if . words are insufficient
to reach and rescue them from the , misery
and ruin that this arch , enemy of virttuf. la
preparing for them, we would point them to
the brothels where some of her female die.
eiples are libidinising, and then lead theta
to the aishonorod graves where prostitutes
of her creation are rotting. 'lf these ` would
not arouse them from the danger/and dead.
liness of her doctrines, archangels' voices
might be lifted in vain'to warn.
DELAWARE.--This -gallant' little State
has given an increased majority' for the
Whig ticket, as tested .at the Inspecteee
election. in New Castle County the Van
Buren majority is reduced from ,200 to
about 80. Kent County has increased
from 50 to over IEIO Whigmajority. 'Sue.
sex County has given a Whig Majority of
more than 300. The State is safe for 800
or 800 Harrison majority. ' The spirit of
the gallant Kirkwood,—the same glorious
enthusiasm for the Constitution which
prompted this State to give the first vote
for its adoption,—that love of liberty and
law which shone so conspicuous in Dela
ware during the Revolution still exist,—
still flourish with undiminished vigor, and
her noble sons are determined :never to
surrender their native State into thelands
of men who have worthily earned the
names of Tories by their slavish devotion to
anti : Republican prineiplee--and 'their at.
tempts to coerce freemen into subjection by -
official dictation, or to seduce their patriat.
ism by bribery and corruption.—Anierscan
Patriot. . .
144311 T DIMARING IN THE WEirrt—Tbe
Harrison ticket in Ohio, has outrun all *XX.
pectations.' Ohio, which gave Jackson over
3,000 majority, this year will give Harri
son 1.0.000. The greatest enthusiasm
t)revails in Ohio, and througout the_whole
West for Harrison, and to bean opponent
of Harrison is regarded as a mark of base
ingratitude, and as evidencing a great want
of patriotic feeling. The news from Ohio
is most glorious. - It is believed that hardly
one . Van Buren Congressman can be elect•
ed. This auspicious result in Ohio will
have an excellent einct upon all the bor
dering Ste tes--India na , Illinois, Tennessee,
and the whole West will rise en maim-end
give an overwhelming majority for "the
Hero who never last a battle." Friends
of the Constitution read and rejoice! Free.
men of Pennsylvania, of Delaware; the re
deemed 'West calls upon you to shake off
your lethargy, and to strike one more ef
ficient and glorious blow for the Constitu
tion and the Republic.—lbid.
By the latest accounts from Peynnslva
it seems that the democratic or Nan
Buren party has succeeded in electing a
majority of members to the Legislature.—
Last year it will be recollected that the
Anti-Masons had a majority in "the , same
body. Why do the Masonic purty now
have a majority?—ln the (Anti-Masonic)
state convention in that state in. December
last this party was traded off to the. Whigs,
who have always been in the minority
there; consequently, they have, by taking
on such a dead weight, been pressed Aown,
and thus have they been beaten..--1416 Ste
vens, it is said, is left out by near 50 votes.
His services will be missed more than any
other man's in that legislature ,
New Lisbon (Ohio) Aurora.
THE DIFFERENeE.....-Last year when •
the Anti. Masons carried 'in Pennsyliania
then it was echoed and re echoed as a wstp
triumph. 0 yes! the good Whige;carried
the day, althOugh in the half of the counties
where the Anti-Masons' sticceeded . the
Whigi may not have had a - ticket. Now,
when the ;Whigs have went on and made a
presidential nomination, county noMinatiter,
dm. dm, and when the Democrat's beim
beaten them Most seandalously—Oh, it's
an Anti-Masonic defeat; Whigs had'ocith.
fug to do with bringing about acb art eirent...„
Our Anti. Masonic friends who 'ridiculed the
"seceding nine". are now reaping tint rich
rewards of their labors in etßwrittra 'mina
with those of whom it has been aptly sakj„
"treachery is their vacation." They mot
have been aware of the,character ofr. lhus
party before they agreed to go oti with
consequently, they can but blatnethetr` -
indpicretion for the result.--!M4.
1' toe.