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Digitized by 

Google I 

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Digitized by 


Digitized by 


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Digitized by 




A LiTEa.iJiy 



^^ Homo sum; hunam nlht! a nic al}enum pui "'S' -^-Va in y.A h;s cuei tc lac a ntdi\, arc dear. 


CITY OF BTJRLINGTOX, ?i. J. i ip'r?/ 


1811- ^ 

Digitized by 


< 4-*: i 

Digitized by 



IJ'.mo '»nv) ; /ruman: mhi! a v: ' chenum tyut^J^'^'Maa cru' -'.'.*• Ci 'rA^ t., hit a na^:, art :* >'•*'• 

VOL. 1. 


N,.. ». 

i'CJ^ Po<i\vAt' rs and otbc-rs tn whom ibis 
N Limber ot'Th.: Visit^-r is diiectrd 
will ^;Iea;«- to give liic dv'?i>;i; si'/Ii pnbii- 
'^ity as 18 tniuiediattrly conve I'u ni ; and 
forw ird to the Eciitor the nnTnes uf su- h 
•"^^cn (HIS as may incline to |*atn;r,lsr '*, with 
the advance monr.) ^ detii'c.un^' comniis- 

cd and distorted throv;'Ah the ^i^-' lif^,/ oi p *rty 
nvw^nipers: vic^lt nt, if not «;ojiu.tifncs venal, 
I lc iter, mcr^riit to V^-vit rv^y-cUlvc sut'scri- 
j heri, cXa^^r^-atcd -irci contri-dictoiy s-Mte- 
j in-'nts: coniiU'ice in liu v. isfl''*m and \irtt)<:i 
I ol .jnr i)cr<" iticn i«< :h--repv i.r> p.iirtti< :aid ihis 

rL^A ur 

I ^r-c? J'cnf;tth corrojniort ;'•.! '. i i\'f iiiiy: a. d it 
I is lo he frircth i!"'fi':'«^-d. li" vw\ ;>r;x '. * d >n tili'j 

TiJOlM UAL MSlTi:i?. 

T^:: ci!i * r iyf »'hj>. pjhiirr'tion intfudb 

ir . . : i ii t,.j.d. which - ay riff rr^nin,; \{ 
' . ' K, d in ui' s<r ti.ue^, U'-'lc- 
y '. ' •^ . ' ■ - : ^^ '".is or r't* patiwru^t wf 
. y '■■'■-' . i'"' ■ '• ■'* ^ '' • t'"* c< n- .uii\ th- PK)- 
i ■ . ■ .■ . ■ .■ . '. '^' 'li .;''i.-r t'uiinrs, 
^vl ' : :>: -■ i : . .". . ■.. . c''-r;vf iVo'Tt 

It V (; ilvi s. :• - 1. • '.. h i))! *.hv' ■ ..:Vi-r«ah- 

t\' oi this coiK. J, t!. I. a Ctc\-K-t3o:j i!iii*Iit hf 
I'L',; \.r-V d aj^ haz :rdouS, .u\^ x />..pcr )>f'd'fs- 
•>hi^ to hvioivj; tv nf> p,'tui« '^'■•' t, h-r tir.r 
'■'■;, S'^i, be h.v:ij to ipfif thr «'l .dV .^ oi' all.--- 
Not'- u''^^t'inflinrj tfu- tCiuyj r )ih;u timt'^aj. 1 
the hahit 'A \\w. pr^ss in this p.^i ti: uia/, th- 
editor c.V'not b-jt hope a mf.rc:. G»v''u;ra!'h^ 
i\"sult from his aftompt to culti\at<* an^yt^-t-r 
t'l^^tCy by nr^kinj^" Ihi'^: KuRai, VibiTKU a 
vehicle oT useful and iv;recah!e ini« 
tn'v' n; opic ; information unmir-:5l«'d 
v/ith nut'.rnn'S'' and fah.t l^ooJ, (ii:-:»i;;ned to 
i^romotcthe rVlicitit s oi a rational existence, 
a^id to gratiiy the d<.sir"s f>f r, iauda!»U* '.U'i 

t c.r^'er, ihc tl.'M-- i^ r^' «.!'>'* cK.- t.ait wh^ai i: <-^c 
j c :'a:nJis— • V -l^ s>r rcaii'/cd Uj'on u ti-.-Cvivt'» 
I and divided c^iTitrv. 

I On thi'i hc\. tji^ udit^r i't- nds Uul 
[ to aflwnvurc iai iitde ha^-k. he has not tiio 
r-' olitir-n, t v.- u '.virw he inchia (i, to kVi^.'./<' 
m tb'. ruii:i:cl of s»iL'\ ar.grv dvnici:.^; li 
'^th'Tb take lIu' care of onr -.uMirk lijjrurs, 
a::d a'y.ame to direct th'* ^rovria-af nt, ' v- 
ti^ir tiic h ;jn?^r; r an(] the re.'. :'id. th'- p«^h- 
\\<\V'i of a v,x\'\Yi .shei : for tiic co\jt.r,, ^ v ih 
bo e^c Uh(ai i -r ^ hoo.^in;^ to to'Icav an humbji r 
j>.^thi hj ih rortcnt to !ea^ e tne c n.imon- 
^veah:i to vkA^inia} .xnu pohtii i.-u-s; and 
■•\ t-r gv.. tt. • IS will not a;yee to d^a:-, tlicn 
li^ , ;.';au:;i .t- (lirection to prhitr' :^ tor a par- 
t\\ aa I 'o ;^;:. ■/»< c v br, piu tlirir fajt!^ i.y-jn a 
I'a'.". ••. 'i ■" ' is noi y..: r.oiv^ \v!v n 
fri^f,y^ «.!:>. :v: it ro^iJccts p=^>hdca- ir.^r.-:.^- 
ti'»n's is (h-rnii vi WL»rthy oi crmiiiO'* sohci 
tude dod (Ot:i)i>on Stip^poit". It ib to .,v r.o- 


will arrive v^.U'ii 'aain' l- siia 

-Vs c.^thii-'Is "- 

»• nt, ; ; 'J irc 

ulvocates oi' ton^t'tii'/anal i'bti (v. p^iu'val 
v».d O'-'uh.-: to have, ii irahc'l 

in then- 



I Dctr.ey, 

most s'^'u^ary iutioeavc: ^'-'c a 
haUful ^s it is u'>n\ars;ii, hi i.-> hiih n wp.^A th« 
K't'di oHire ut die yr(-"5S; :: ^'.is c( v^t.d to be 
li: : fiicndvjt niaii an i dw rai^.id c.\;; ."^iwt r ol 
hii» ri>:tht3 and O'lth's, h lajlo'ir-fr, ^\Lnin 
]ML'fei:-»lon, embraces tl e e^^: m.onweadh oi 
oiti/en.s seekia^ t''- ' xy i :-' hehns':^ kjV 
renthr-ent?: throt::: " ito pewei-^aja, c-iaj haif 
of the coinmunity i>. st t T;aranc tiie otlier a 
systrmatick projci iptif a ar.d >pp. .^ ition is uu 
all bideb maintaineu, ai;'J t.-v'ih, a'/.'iiy, and 
in'c p-^rrlotisri have lo^t their r. ^.y and th*-ir 
influence ainidst the .;o:ir]Jtis of pait) and the 
; ."4Min;ptions of ignoranc; and sei.i^hncss. 

The puhlick mind, ah.i^ys indeed a^n.iug to 
he info: mod, is perplexed, and e\ m confoun- 
'h'd ; sui^jccts v/hich it concerns a ine and 
v^rcuc us people to cc'rnnrclv'nd, and jiai.e 
upon whh a cot)l uiiderstraidnycr, ave -iKr.ur- 

p^d th 

'not ,«^iHnd for s. "<;or prr-t-.e^.-^ions f-.r 
C(niduc% and when p:;friotisin or h\e f f' 
j conotiy, rari;'j:;uiaed with Violeaoe and ca- 
{ luninv, snail sh' le out m its f^'M'tv e';;T!it\". 
I hn-add:^r f-'ib^arancc, cha? *> , an-J p'.';iiek 
' sphit, luvi anin'udr^ all to de- Us 'A.^rthy ^i 
j nie'i aad of ch: '.iler.'S. 

U nurt rai.Ticc f^^r rhi- cJlu>r of iha a ■ :-.-!, 

j to haiit Ids \"''J\v> an^i h;^ ha . •.- ^ .;'; lOe ^ ir- 

j cle (jf b^rhd and r-^unnor IhV: if he 5]ri:i j:j 

I an/ dtir^te ailJ 1'^ ii*^. e .-(/:/ //;?f,'i ">•'';■; the rjdr-i- 

I '"Ion oi cisv dtl knnvh.c'^ej r.-iinc it^ r-.-inne'-s 

j hv T i-. '/ -tiliiient of ju.a scnthi.ant*<, or !i^ in- 

{ ieat'ves I') inanstry and vii'tu''Ub e\<. n on, 

a-^ U: mend the civil an^l nioral eontl; jc:o 

of Ids fellv^vv men — his at'00::t \v!^!i .-*■-. ■.•,d 

ir.nie than liih hopes^ viii :h: aaa!t,t.<h 

The propaii^ation of nt aoii ne«''>oril 
o]an!oas and creeds, win^^oer r-datir'^, Vj ro- 
iilicks,oi odier .iuhje^t'3,on which purue^-. a--*! 
bcctn ac'em r<'scdvc'J to dhFer, wih lie st du- 
lously avoided in the chinais of ihf. Visi er, 
Tlie editor dec a ^efj an tn){ artial neutrr'hiy, 
and old fasrnoaed a^ it nri.iv appear, ad idi^ 
powcn"^. wil] \y' directed to inake hib weekly 
repo?-itorv welcome, or a: hast in'^fh a-he to 
event one: Tliis :*e bopcb ior b\ its dc^ cue a 
to inmc-^iice, to ti 'ti- an<l 'atilitv. aud, in the 
admiral:- lac^'ua.,e of Lord Bti'.on. by m-^- 

kir.j; it 3Uf;s: rvi.eut ''to \vb usu-ev^.r i o:-'^"' 

! h*>Me to the hu; !n<\sb and ho.v'>n.\ of ni ,r . ' — 

I Vvhdi Lhc^e prthTpniuiy naaa^ks ie- *,.--■ 

ndts t'.tue p!ioi.' h ill-. Pi ,n, und :' e ohh: ;r 

j of tlie K \ .. he. a 

\ pohijeatr-iiof d.<s kind rraor.atv d;vi-!v '. 
, n>v h i-ao ..\i-'-cliir: f^ u- "/ari'^us i*--.<ii- ,. 
1 AJo ( rrfj' e; • n f ;, and .- . -' r.> . 
j A -1 io to.e . '^.u'.'/.'u ;" it vdll he a fa\aa;^ i.c 
. anti eoniprt-hensne pan of onr wteku iaua 
i li 'vVtll Cora :ht, 

I. A bi"".iioar ' ij^yin.ixc and 'X-T.t '^te-e oc- 
cur rcnre-, »' r.tUK . abroao o.r at home; s-^h 

a^KncOnco i.(K,- e. vr' , Vi e tk »^;r' ai r^{ ;,,, ';.';, ^^^[. 

:uioekrjvj; u; laana.tiaty, or' of :* 'aiar- 

tiek <-\tj,;^-:u:L, re; •■' :.. zo uns./er.-a- ^ p' ■ - 
j pov of the \ }\d< V, 

I 2. The ''li^cra-.y vvTd conta'.a rartlc'.hi- 
] Viooces, V"'v. ^ and lacr-. < ^-Muerred \-':t*- ' . -. 
j baidlry donifsoek nianurac l;^-eb,b.. th:' -ee'- 
j Otis nief .K».ni:''x a:*'7 'M\d b.'^,d\ > ait oicc > v- 

tieais: nut ir.^rLl)' ^;eixv.d and ;adLn:oi<.k ^n,-- 
j cuiaf.a.ja-. ar.-l *:!t-aua.,''^n' e^sir s n:\a~j tii^j-e 
j s,.a,LCLS, hat iidor.r-tLi.-n and iiucjd:^-i'"'::. 
j h '»el r ) cOMmon ,;ir rehension, iiad ^e<'i:^i'd' 
. » ^ jaart.ed u^ve h, :.i.n ^a d.e <;rd;naj ^ v\A 
j e^a-.r, ,1, r-T. uj;- of luavh^ o ; and h^-a - .. \- : 
, s'M J, t rc m^tar . , as lo ^jivv jnain a...^... l:s 
! oi newia-.e-^doir- ,vwC di:-eovlrie.. in pai- .>- 
1 ^'-*'hv, iii..dicine, aad riic u.eful art^; d-->r^- 
I ^"-nct to:a;ing r^ -hr ;)i--^er.aa;:n of hfe an-' 
; iiejiKh, to 5,i\e or ;,.s:st h.l/o^r, ^.<.aoc^' 
: che-.pness, loitdan't .aid efo-v.r.v hi '".Vn^, 
j a^d eihet ben^iu i u n. a''b cf varic.-.aha-nd' 

o tb'^ aG:no haji^ , -rj , /;yut',n/, ;n-:b":or.; 

J Lno<-' riuick and Iwhot'cr. 
' nnike *-*ii. a 

• t pur; "■'.•', . ... 

\I.:vp^,.:dn^a^ vehr:^. p^-oih...] 
I part or r.ui ^•^T.;. dwry: !; a'^o^.^a^Joi Is 
, ij'-nic!i \ti \t -hao ahiMj^t ev../v darait:i.- ...- .': 
I h'.iaian ot -jpa^.on: andt a tiie hva<c -^t • ^ 
! '^'lir''^ fo* histan*"e, we *-bah e.\h)':Ii a ma 
j cs, u J, advh.v^ .aid hint> in ixaraid to ■ *- 
! pi '. 'f "c'/. ia ^he nvdiiidof', li^. ^,.r^ 
; rutde and -! ; - - — i. lii: t-dt.iie i.t h' a' >. 
I j;r..-}e>, gr;dn, anJ iru'i- -:n ih, ianr-^tie:: 
j an:' u^-'-e of maT^'Ue.'- — ^n tba ronstrt:eth.a' o'" 
Jarndu^. ini; ienie^N, a.nd iu ci^i'rhiv;, d.a/a^ 
ini; .n-d inelo.s;n|j <.i lai.J: mdeeo jur .\\\ ^ 
t*» jn will be clooily drj\ n t-^ w!;:itever -c:*.-/ , 
C'Mia.cied witb the urear intrre^^ts of r:a h;ad 
owa-.r and teramt, firndv h^lh'vi*'ir a> wc do 
t that d e red v.'caith ad strengd'. a'^v* ev 
the <iurationof a i"y'»hlick,'!epi nd:, upon ti_ 
happy and h^J''pend(va. coiid'tion c>fth' -rv/- 
ti\ .it'-ra oi it-s '^oih 

We n.-rd scarf ely to dw.dJ i.po^ Ids -•::«_ 
of Gtu plan, .^'j novi !, yet bO oav* r.usly ini^ a; 
tantj we daie V) proa-isc ca.- reUue!s. ia*-.. 
j wii.j Va^a.: b- n in tne !:. •' oi .,— re • 
I tj,.., re; r oi poiaod ^, :» i;-. *_ '.a i ;j,. f. ' .^ . 

Digitized by 




..n^ itoNV anJ tl-^^-n lo oar hi.mbic Vniccr; ar 
it ptichafice thr ^- fchou'-l iui ilici--^ • 
f .t. A^ / t-r?/ f for tue tooth ,i',hf^, ro**.- . •. 
hini toi the m;inar;'*ment ot a '^. 
*ih*i culfure oi' a '^ow'cr p--*- 

.h .V . , -r ocrtvcd % , ^ ^ven ihe 

3iV---e?- of par* , . ^o;uenuni: . 

^- '"■•^^ a it= niip' orr.ncous 

.inde f^uh^crvienc to the- 

- -: .: prom i:..!^ icanilr.i.;*. ^^'iih 

tahi an i^prcant (jF auth'^r? 

;i^j 5 oi i>^\>ks, skllwOcs <■>! hiutorv, ^t^^c^aplu , 

.*: w :jioi:i.ip!>y and •^IiiU.rophy. \ i^rin- 

r'/.:; ;atr. ol thf: j^ InbcMr^ ^ iii [>;, o a\' nd tu^ 
Ju <i'*ii :(t chi^r«''h '■''].^ \.^(' r.i.-I p (.dvv!:l. and 
!)rOwr'ri\' IclaJncs*." :ik- ..r.^ 'It. rojr.' xow 1-- 
"•'."■;' f'f ahi:ppy coinun'; i^r tlv*- '>_, vvc 
-•. aU !i-'":J up the « :.-•■! "".^'i::^ .•■;'.! r.^-* -pts of 
^,i.i:-n.. ut !ii-;n, li-'-ir iiv.'b a: id onii«H)n~, .;ncJ 
T .-ri'Vxiir b\ '.'bv^.rs .•' Ti'^'rviV ^^ and bv 
e vt. iCts tV'^'Ui ^'ook'i of a lim-Iu) a:d uif-ral J 
v<iidcncv , to ( r.'.dicHte r^n ^lUire^ and 'olu n 
tnto :^('udhtitnour :aid *-:i.'JaL.>^ ti-v- iia^.Cil-U' 
s?on,i ot ■■ a: na*: ire: i*i-r 'IrJi \\t. cr;is:- 'K 


c'lj Mm- s, tcai]", 

'.i::'.'\vi\*i ?Kinda'^\' 01 u 
-;. N^r dhidJ \^j in 



ciF. < 3 1 c lis o i v.- » I .1 r 

V tr) a^ rt urifl zirji.itaiu 

r-,>i::ion aril, 

rtv, u-iil cn':UK ;p:-i*!or. iVnm 

ttr\ i i" iviild. 

!.. '^vir P'lisftJ] :n\' bt' 

itp'i the lis^^'v*- .1^1'%' 
ii hi toand to !••.-< ri 
spri'.djl!) hat. 1 

.aacrs lopped away from Uve wild 
^css of nt:ws. 
^ o ^\\c nci spiculty aod breA?ity to nhls 
chaor> of facts Tind events, anil ^o place them 

111 t'lcii proper conm;ci!OU3, oh rcg^nd * time, 
I' >caii;y,anu persons, will re<[uire noordmary 
sliarc of our diH;>cacc and 8a2;acity. 

Our readx.r5 will perceive, that in closing 
tiiC \'Isit:r against party violf^nce and iliffer- 
cares, it is net intended to exclude political 
cvciits, hacib, and occurrences, tliese aie iiii- 
portani to us nil: hut in our notice of them, 
wc sliall avoal opinion, and comnitnt, and 
c^-mrovetsy, leaviug every ftian to jud^e for 
hiui^df: aadvv^ere it allov/t d u*^ to make a 
rem^Tk. n wi,-j:ld be to indicate a belief thai 
li:c pr.biirk mind would seldom err if left to 
a}i imlrK^sivad c'ccisi-^n on publkk men and 

'J h:se ;r. c the otuiincs of our plan: its 
i I "vcciit:. -n iiu'ft'fl prcterts no ordinary ta>>k: 
d t'K' *"diior ndie^ upoa his own rrt,oItitior*s, 
and par.cvjvjty, and mdustr)^ for the '^•ucre^s of 
i\H nndcrtakip<;; much aiho does he f.xpect 
froiTi ihe a!,>i^tance of ii.s patrons: lu- invhcs 
c:i t,ot them (••jt-isionaily locoiuribute soHiC- 
ihir.j^ to die 4'"mmon stock of materials; 
f'^arcclv ont oi ibs readers but luay bt- quaii- 
:! d to furnish a hint, or convey some solid 
insvuv I'-n, the acquibltion of hiG rc^ui'. rsfr, 
re ii TiiO"* or c::pe» I'rjicc. 

h pure int.:niioPs., ar;d sonnt: 

u-na- »j knowlt-df^e of :ner ' .>d thin^.s, wi:h the p:0- 

! mivfj H.^J stf.afh' a;dofiicv-ral judicious and 

:■.? an Jl'r\f,l3fy, our pfro'.-? may look j eniii^-htcnvd ..-.s-w-.s/a/;/^^, cughr To in..pire him 

iaiilv ;; 



arnu:v-t'd, in xc.-: :r.o^l.i;ci 
\'-- : i - : ana, \u ' c n r»: q m*: -. t . cU r 'j 
'•U''. and even cot'reci ?>.rL\\ ^cdu 

conui:^ I v>-iih hope, the editor has all thest* inc< utives, 
'*"*-••* j to animate hinu in the o-eciui-^n cf ufiG ar- 
...n.picuo:is j diiou^ un''-n^ki':v. 
'duor V, di I 

U'i.u]K'r- j 

iiuou^ ana 'ricu*"la: .;i liti.r of -/.Ivci'ise- ! 

:^ivUM, so a^ to an-.wcr \\\x\ infant, wid .v.u j 

n IV charp^i: for C^nt ir^.ubir.. j T 

As a \\^'t'js,''i\'.''^r siic: ^h.dl co.vahi ] the i 

. ■.^. early dioesi and n L*rativt- ol .irv^»tanl in- ! 

'>;\";z/.sard ' 

roit THE RURAL \ii,Ifr.K. 


a-»i; tarvt ■ fc»r thi c 

aii\ 'VwC'U 

nro-(;i and ta'-iv.- 


V dlii^ciicc- loi . J' ,a and d^u-.r^t 
c ( .4 ■■•.•'/uri> ah *v-^a} :.^m'^yu"f^ i» :s oar du»y 
^ iidUudy to layhtfo^e cor read- ji, liiavjiuj j 
d:*"-ni to iorm then own opinio;.'-, av..' da aw < 
" own inK-rcnccs: ur ' / tiii:> ht td vvdl of I 
vOuK- be notn" d, all acts oi lisc ^c-uriai ar.d - 
.'tacf gov^^cnmt.'uf^^pi^ ^■t^icusbe^orf. con':r;\-s, 
.r/att papei ^, di;jloinatick oorrrspondcnce, Ix 
tntr-ixoursc wiih foreign powers, ofana* an 
pointuients, ikctchc^^ of e- . native u»gisiatiVt* 
ar»d judici'd piOC'-.UinjR^ ar.ti ol matters n- 
lating to the ^ eucral ^, .aad to tlic rom- 
jn. 'cc, a^xnculture and mnnof.'Xtarc: of d.t 
i^ i.ud oL^v.^ii: also obs'-rvatJ )'ib and f.a;ts 
co'nneeted with die popi^Iaiion -md pnn;re|^ 
sivt- improve m;u^t-s nt th- ijtuntry, such a- 
t't* coastructioa o< publick bulloKigs. the for- 
oiiition of canals, bridf';'-s, rfiads, and k^n^- 
railv uhaiever iaU.. nd^hm tin ranj^L- of p^'dii-^- 
and political econotuv. In short, \ie shall ')c 

added much i<'> th; c«''rdor: a/t^d eh t^a^^e^ o: 
a C'-autry h^c; '".Idle tie hiv;h pnces ;:ivt:, in 


hit s !or the y^-] eriour Jdodsc ■ c".d-.r ar;d 
ap;!-'5,ha-. hid!v.:rrd laan} of^H^r pi. -/JCdl ind 
cc<^iHanr ai fa^ nv: 3 lo iic/ a co^j z'xiic ] kUe 
ar?i->un: <. *' capital i-x the tstai>!i'nnit u: of ex- 
a.ii' r» t: o "'.hrat's. 

Such i. ti\ : rapid ira.rerre of wealth and 
popu.'atior :h <■; r towns, ".hat ':he annaiid 
na*, hiihejU- \\r evccetled ^iie means .-f sup- 
ph'inj: it: Oar chnT;:e is pretmintraiy Cttcd 
for die *^'UO' ai."»n oi the a^jde in all its vai:- 
ct!'^ ;, the he:o oicmv summer '^an, which, by 
man oi ijv.r i^^on judicious cultjv.tio:^, is 
suopo-'"d o \n injurious to the more driiLate 
kjnd'j ol pera -; io not more than nccess.;r'. to 
the production cd' the exquisite apples for 
which th.^ middle states of America n-c so 

I r.j opinion has lont^ been held bv judi- 
Ci'i'.a. ii.en iniimately arquuintcd with die 

hie to ftUTiLsh. -ti :e,i:a a roii eet Ao ;^' i- of ai- J ^^i.-hject. that the apples for uhich some parts 
i'jiportant events and pub'' :V trccsact-ops, j ol Knj!:ind havclong been celebrated, would 
In managing the ariiclcs •:wUlUi^ u^^d.tM this i he ino:roved i>y the hot sim and j^rt-aiLr \i- 
divi-ion, much will di;ptnd up^^n seieer,.;r'. goui of trrov, d> which exists In thi.- fountr). 
a'^T-i ij^^mtnl and arran;;'t: '" hmiLs '*f Kxpt rim*'nts aiv now makietj on a very 
du V -'^iivr ''ro'drc that v\e 'h<r^al com/acrs j lar,;*' scr'e "a-ascer^iin to s poi'>. An l/r- 
. ,r '•- :i 1. i •.•:-i;cr ]u a sm.dl coa;]>a-r; to ; chard of »»• or- thau fvc huu.o-. d of the most 
*/u* .t th'=* ropcii*io!)s must be weeded C'Ut, J adiaired Kngh^di apples, .s now growxut? ia I sticagth and flavouioJf* tiie iiqunr are sun 

the vjcinhv oi tluriiu^^ton, aod their growth 
and present appearance a/: > aty equal to the 
trees of native origm of the nii^hest repuca- 
tJon. A very imen-strng Tri-atis^ on the or- 
cluirds and rruii liquors of Eni^laad, has late- 
ly been published by W A. lv!d:^at, Ksq. a 
gentleman of Lan:^:d equate and great know- 
iedge,derivcd frou) the practice andnbscr%^a- 
lion oi thirty years on his own estate in Here- 
fordshire, the mo^,c celebrated cider county 
in l^nglaud. '1 he chaiactcr of thr. author has, 
wiiere he is known inspired the most per- 
fect confadein.c in his opinions, many of 
\vhich are new and ini^enious, and thr whole, 
withsoau* allowance jc r difterenceol eror.ate, 
verv af^plicable io this coumrs. I have [,een 
la^■oured wnh the perused of i^, hy a friend ; 
and h;:fcre the publication of the Kural Visi- 
ter was annour.cea, i had extracted a cons: 
dcrable porlioo voi the matter for mv own 
use, and believing thai tl;e extract would U 
amasjnc: and ipytruclive to the sciejaifick 
caitivator, and give murdi »'.sef'-.l info, matior 
respecii.i;^; the practire -mong coirec t n-ianu- 
iacturer m (d^-at Britain, I hiry,. t'et jrfnined 
to coinauiaratc iheai to rny tullovr cirizAnr- 
rhv,irnHturr admits of a convenient divibion 
into scveial parts, aud publication in ieicc*-S- 
si\e iim!d)crs. 


G ': the i xcHival^'^i. cf Orcluu . 4\ 

I'iXtracted from <he Treatise on t»ie culture 
oi the apple and pear, antl cjr. the manuha- 
turc of cidi r and petiy,]»} T. A, Knmhr, 
F.^cj. ol ] lereford:.!ui •.• in Ku d.iud, pruned 
in Lo^>U 

7<o. 1. 


Th. iiint liquors for >\h*ch t!ie rountv oi 
H.rf:foi,l ha> iot^g been celt^bruted, ha\e 
alvva\-^ been supe^bcd to derive th-ir ex -d- 
le: ce from soiuc peculiar qualip. in tne soil 
vddeh pro<iuce& them. A pre^i.i"iice hr.s, 
bovver -Tj .*.een given to s^als of opp(/:du 
kindf' by liw planu rs of dijkrent a^ -s: tai s 
e>f the h\6. center/ imiformlv cont^-udt -i m fa- 
'^^''?i ''^ ^'^ hf{ht sandy k-am, and t»i diis th. ir 
h...^r ciacrs were nnide; a^ p^.s^^l a s^u: .d' 
a diauKtritidly opposil- qu ditv . n stream \\ a 
clay, is '-jnerally preferred. Muchoi to" 
soil, whicn howi ver is ;aUed clay in H<Te- 
fordshirc is properly argdiaceovs maric, au(! 
some ' f It cwutams a lar-^e portion ofcalcarc' 
ous earth, arai rH^rvesce:;stroiigly with aradi;. 
I ha^e ]f>und ihi • soil to be the huhs^ratum ed 
sr'iae orchai ds much celebratedfor producing 
j aiders cd' the firKi quality. It appears to ha\e 
I di. eil '. tcf -niti^tins^' *fw^ harshnessof roui>h 
j auitere troti'-., ant] as the trees grow with 
} ,'njat mxu; lance in it, it i^ o^' all soils perhaps 
the best cale..h\t*'^(i t<> inisv/er the wishes \A 
rh^ piLra<T. Ahi \nt s'aon;?;esi and most 
highly lha\ouN'd liquor which has hhherto 
becij obtained from the apple, is produce d by 
a soil whuh oill^ars from anv of those uivovr. 
mentionLd— -f'':r shallow lour.i^ on limesrono 
h;<si^, of die forest of U'-an: h^n^j it •:, evi- 
..K nt that tliose qualities of vni o t vvl.;t.<i the 

Digitized by 


;i\^t.u to ii.^ptM'i. cit-'.r lie n;n uircoVLniMo , 

PI t'Xtf rncil jp;)£.*^s, or t'^^.t iiijj.oi ^ «;f 
irl'. equal"»uc, may he obiJintd 

"M\ <^v n e\pf rience ir'N^ces me to iic.-ccc 
I" Vi: i:t*f' r op':/»:n. un*i to htii^^ve faat wiili 

nio-.t cvo*y so I .jnd a>pjct ir.'clit r.-- com cj- 
.;], nil! tl'at fiiic c::;':rs mi;;' t h-; niJCiC in 
*l-i >:♦ t'-'^ry county (>/ i'vr.glrai'!. l.vciv 


rictv'ii tiu' ;.| p'c 1^ more 01 l'.?ss uhertc 




Mcj in .Ik o( ' 

r..L iiaiurc of li;-.' «o^i *. qvov. s Jr; nnd tli 

J .,11; 'nee ofti." ci-Ur lorsu r!v ir^ade Jiom t'..'- 

.:\.:-ii t'l" '^tirr. i'l .:";-)'■. si;ils, sfcms to evince 
tr..a '-ou'^ iriiits r.-f^v. iv-n. ht froip iiio^c 
\>^- wbi^li otiirrs arc ij> 
'^ *In' ii'.r.t .^.'i ;t::s a U '^e 
.(, l'.rti\ ^ Of io i'^e ; »M 

-• uitlnni i'ut v.-:ak, ;.!-ivh 
.n i]u- i\ o|> In, Di oT :i".e 
iit*? u'i iii'c c^nir-. nt 

; ciiirr;., c^,hr>''l.,i .-ir:-^f (h- 

,-i5\ a. l/'- ro::>r ,. 

• ''^ ,: -. it is i..r.-\' 
V. uTf; :i"»^ i -ice Is 
*''ni. ',:iv.< '. iriri ■ :. 
V .''.Lcs, dry TkIi 

':.OMn, j-'.jrl u h. n tn ■ '"/-j^rct is aii'.ivoura' If, 
or t'lj sit.'.v.iioii roIJ and t:»vosed, it sterns 
.■-.f-'u' r.fV evid''T:i, ail t. a'^s h liich tl{> 
li'jf itt^in a;i early ai->unitv aii^^uid he .xelu- 

J \l. On some -rrue'-'lv sods, 1 ha\'e observed 
*:^j fr'i't (-41 the saai.; uee tv> ripen verv irrv- 
v .daily, a'id ^he ^itkr to he, probu'sh' r- part 
.^'* r* iliis car>e, h .r-^li ;uid ri;u'^h : Fn-'^c 
•it. '. :s \v'>u'd 1 bavf Tio dojhc be riiiiO\e'i, 
;r\ r:\i,'i'}^ sueli frjits oulv as t^Tonie rip. 
ra-z-er early in the i^c aso?t, i.r.d which arc at 
ti'^ r/imc time capable of lontr k yt to 
attaii' n ivj^ular and pe. iVct ir.aturjt) vviliiout 
dc I a;'i';r. 

I he r.'ost conin'»oi^ d f' rt in the cich'^ds 
of Hert:forc!.-hJre at I th'- afiiftinin?, eotuui-s, 
e th-. \va^^ ot a ^cidicunt d- , rce i^f warro'ii 

'o hiin;^th' r trails to a prrA ct St -ce <»^' !.• i*m- 
.';\-: )'.;r ahnost ill 'hc^i, h- vin -^ .i'.,'\r':j 
4'i ..* h;ni. ii* \..r\ war.n a'ld lavoiira'd- s:ta- 
MiOFKT, 1 "Vf I):.a tran^icrred i']OT» ;1 -s t . 
.dK'r:i in wiuc-i, exeeju vrrv waiiu ■ .nartu r-^, 
tiuyv are n 'Ver propot-]\' nj -"i-'d; thr hqi-or 
'•rodiiced iio\w th(.ni i,s cons ".juentK iiar^h 
a'! i Mriiv»!nlal>ie, tho;i^;h i' rrecia.'.^t'v poss^-s- 
.^es. fri. uthe n?*tnre(^UnetVv4it,a cons'derui.le 
.Ki^Toe rf stren:^di. 1 he w mt of flavour aiitl 
: I'd'ivss i.s alwa;. b n^tribiiccd to the sell, jukI 
1 beheve almost -^'wa's unjus^h ; fori do 
o jt think H« i'cfv.rdshiie so nuuh indeI)teJ 
ior lift f ;T'i.- :^s :* cid<'r county, to any pt cuH.'- 
. :t\ in itf soil, as to the possession of a fe^v 
very vabiabk varieti<*s ot frviit, for v hich it 
ay^peais to be indthted to tiie industry of the 
p!anu rs .-f the labt century. 

Ar opinion I know generally pre^-ails, 
.v' 'ir-'^ cider and pcny canmi'.j<- ]>rodueer! 
cxc'.j tin particular boils: butthl': it« certam- 
h .1 vu^gw ernjur; and every soil in wlil ..h the 
f uii attains a pcjfvccsta:e of maturity, is ca- 
:,ubit cf pToduciij.^' those i' j^uors in u very 
tor.«;id* rabie statv o^ p','tf* ction. Tne [.la-i- 
t.-rs ot Her^fordhliir-r in cbe fie\cnt( enth cen- 
tar\ ^ conceived thj.t fine cid^ r<= conlri only in 
obtainevl fro in li^bt sand} soils, such as an 
UMoaiiv termcfl **''.^ laiuls: biu both the apph- 
aud pe;ir are foimd quitt as highlv ftavoured, 
and as perKct, in many other count. es as in 
Hcrcforctfihire; and wcr^i the planter at liber- 

ts tochc't>5c his tjoil, I !)tii?vc a lo;*:'! ^ i n 
derate depth, vith "i suiisenl of chalk, u<;nld 
be louud ;u ' t 
of tho>e co'ir/.iei in 
ab(iiUKd cOid I sapjdv. 

"""i to an^ wh^rh *he h--:c 
V h.l :h orchards h-'^^" 

XO. I. 

! T7\nT amrr.r.iT' nri(frru7K 

^.* rr urrti. Hoi. 

*'Manri<'r.^ a-.i'i to'.viis of vatiour i.jluo.ts vi'^^'>^U," 

I vm i.r'nrn t'-- j\t(i-iU r%'.e.U> i.: as have 

alrtac:\ ndhi.thei]- anr.iJ'O cour^ .:s ihr(ui;-li 

a X}v: \Lvi.i:vd ikicj, since H«.aven l-fbi hie:^th- 

U ! ed .'''to me \\\i- hi- adi <}t life. The n-»onVmg 

</r lav tla^ -. nus oevo'-d to tnc iv.v'piisitioa oi 

k"cv.'lej :\ ^ HI OiCK-r that J n^v ini ' -M\^i»dcv -d 

t'K- V'/,^. o'o-we led— 5*\ai fell Up in n e. — J 
a\vj\. J., jtid irom tiuu la^.uent, r'jsoKvd ; e 
'.>i.^er to hj^uoar the lore cd tanif^, Li.i rw 
reiio-.r nv. -^eh'' u ..dul to my it h w ht r.vs, hr 
a:(|i:ii:..p- kii- uleo^-.v, ar;d ir t; pan in;: "y. '.a 
nstinl inio»-matlon i cand. 1 ?"coj-dla'^!\ 
h *v^ ^,ptat tlie rth( of my i::e in vi-^i'in^ tin' 
didLTciU pa.' .o of fi:rop^a;.d America- t 
Ln ^ cxaiuined iiilo tl.e niarntrj ol tii. .i 
d::T rt"ni. St itet and cm pi rt.. 5, tl.e''t.'vd a"<^ 
r-ii;;lou3 in.^t'taiions, tl.«- ir iiiucr^ ai\d ihi-ir 
trade. Li5.ten therej<;rc, ehiiurcn, to ih- 
ii]3truction of the aged- di.-t* r» lo oi ", tv 
Avli^mi^ui e\penence has j^'^-.u^nl out I'x 
fohy ;^.nd hlin^^n^^-ss oi man — '/i ink nc>L tliu 
1 am ;.t\ ju.'iced in fa; o :r oi a.'.y i-aiK.r. — d 
have rdatixes v.'ho;:) X Kn e, in e\c'y 1 ;nd. 
i s!i:.ll therefore occasionally ;^i\'f to th» 
M'o.'d tli'ir sentif.'.eiit^, as \\A\ -t^ my oh ' 
rcuLrdouc^, iiop:..^. in dir e^. tnin*/ of i.iy d:;\ :, 
likt the settiij;]; .,• n, still Ic- ^:h^ d : jmc j..;r:t 
ravs a^hnarijie ,.l(>omv v, able of lif^. 

list *■ 

t ) scc>v;v a*Ki 


it v/a.. i.ot j'.n^, h >\vever. 

< I: 1 

ir/.n»i, f.^ed v'. Iti' 
ill m a'^i n .-ovrr, p 
du'tihni;s oi nj\ tt/'iers, j 

-,iO'^ to i»." beU. 
ore vc^y vcuth- 
' of 

?Vi arc'' ht citSitv ot \v'i?- 

oir.j.tcd :ii. U> le..\o ti:^- 

1 in diL'ta.'t 


lauds, in q i"s-. of ^ r.iivvt rendt r r-ie \^ 
arcl happ\ . l\ n vear." have * ■ pent on Ahiek's 
sultry phiins, exair^aVng iiao t!.e bti*te and 
c' nditlon of tlnnst \ruom »iatnre niv^re irin;e- 
dhit- *y re;r'nd^. as her own tan\dy. 1 ihen 
dirL^ted my course to that qiitoiei, ^vhen* 
th ' lisij ;; t,un fir^t sl/in::s upon ihe chdidren 
ot n;eu, ihttre u* devote tWM/.y ye;irb, in 
,;i * in;; juio all th«- w istio^n ol the East. '1 oo 
I {.en lK»-e, alas' did ther.';;h hea\ c mymourn- 
r.isoul. liLTcorxe, said I, stood tlu* fa: 
Iia.e:: Ba'v, 
c.;>tt in h'lKi 
s -i a^ ;v »!. 
'1 th. (.;.h, 

on, in tdl die 'j.hhdour i)\ an 

tn ■ 

tiuit novv — lis iilury has pes- 
t;:r*v dew upon the Ivinks 

/. ' d'K- m.ap-'-jfal c^p.rcL'o, 

•> 1' ! o r..'. :.i -1 ' co'n s to v\ ^ ]). 

i*'.a:.,e<' ',1 ill ihi Uk;h:fL»\ i * !\ nie .''ow-, 
ia;iMr.^' o:i the inbtal;;iiiy oi tld.ijjs, ami vh-.- 
ravaj^-s occasioned h*' (he \.iWi\i hr t t'i 
L;m.e, ttii sle<'p, with all his ;.i:y p!)ai',, 
hoe^ r;ti'^' rc\md my temp*, s, closed n v eyes. 
iJM Mi' d aiy he.'d with il-e visir^as t-f tht 
nii'h'. Alethoueht, i'^-: I wa-. d;i .i dn:; ni} 
(v.s towards the bun^mit «.; h d: -? u t n; ».m- 
tiin, 1 -...v, a forn\s-., tlie v.aiN (/t whicl! 
vere nia^ic of m.KSbv silvei. a:)'! th'" ,7it! s oi 
pearl tip;i(*d with polished >jold. The sun 
sttm<d to he dechili^g do\» n th*e va^t»-*.» 
s'.y — I looked agjKj — out oulu h':d no vf- 
mainin^* tracts of ^h.^t r.o late ha<I charm* d 
my enr.'.p'ur'-'d (jaz* — \ A\ ^p irss nn-t hju 
seitud upon ihc moutv,;»in — When a vo-ee 
Sfcnifd to ^:ly t(» nit: ^^ InJiam^ why art 
thou perplex? (i: \\ hat thou sawest, was but 
a cloud that puis on dittVrent forms, b\ the 
..dketiMD fiom the sitting sun. — But let 
silent Nature dj'is poitr instruction into thy 
<liaord*-red breast. — That c!oud is hut an 
• mbleni of haman glory . — Fame is but a 
n\Ws phantom. At a distance, and for a 
^ihort time, it dazzles \^itii its splendour; 
>ut the ■ ta'ityof it soon pabse.:. away, and, 
\tpon a near approach, it only chills and 
damps unh hitttr disappointment/* J ' j<»k- 
ed arcmnd, hut could not disco vet v/hcncc* 

S\i. /^ofv, ihe S',.l:':tu ot Iv.'.vpl, ti»oi.;;ii 
iu haJ dominions cnoi'^h of his ov- .j, was 
always ready wh-n f ccasious odned r. i:- k-' 
Jrtc with thai; \y. ]o. ;-.n}/ to v. ir' y p ^oree. Ai 
his ixt'iin, wdth.;v»: SMccts>, hoi:i liie ••it '^' 
oi IIt.»soul in •Syria, he se:/.e<. ilic vhci;. 
lordship of Euia'-^a, in piejudite to th*^ 
ri^hl ef Nadir Kdi^in, ixi^ y^-'-i-'g" ]'i*nicr 
w^.o claimed it; and uiis hc^ di..i o'\ prcte;-'.. 
that th^ late father of the yuudi had fMh:a .i 
it, by givin;.; countenance to coai'ed<.:\:to3 
aj:ain-j. the Soldan's intv-rest. 

Salad in, no'\\e\'.rsOulLrt.d ih »i proper car*^ 
shjulrl be X J;t p ,. .1 . '.;vl"r'-d Prn.c'c's t d;i- 
cati':'i, a:.d beinf tic-:!:' Jo of or,'; r'.-hr; Ai .\ 
jaa;;^;*t«:S i-'- m..'te .n '.• £ -'c'lj , Kc \\ u^ 
Itou iitont ua\ ■.-^forr th.: S .1(/..^:. wh"- » k- 
vd h:i . Uivh tnui h ^ra\ \V:^ " 1l vviia. pt,.: v' 
tiu All -uan iT.' w^e- li-admu.'^ 

' \ a:n -.orn'. 

*j>iiea die y oiiiv/ prince, ;do 

t!i-. surpiise ot .Ji Mho were ni ar inn: ) tt. 
lii at verse \vhh:ii ud^rms wx ihr.T /7e n-:\o *v- 

)L^v\i: S'-'ldar* wa? much sta> ded oc the tuii^ 
and Kpiiitof his c. iVft^i some p.^us-., 
ho":'i:r -md recollection, he remaned tht 
y onto d is j^-Ta v^nis ans-^er: '*• He who spr-ui-r, 
\\\U -'ich /•' ' '} ifi'jyu *\ill (Wt v, itii :\£ !^;:eh 
/'>::/r'vf. i resio. you, therefore, to \'.v\ 
fatiier'o posscssioii h st I slujuld jc thouj.Mt 
to ^i'-! ui '^r\ Jctxr of a \ii;'U' which 1 oidv 


Not long since, a devout bat i^^norant 
papist, percei\ in^ the necessity oi hi^ own 
pri-ate prayers to G^^d, besides thePitei- 
nosu r, Avc-Munus, Jkc. i"*rd oi course in 
dtc Romish church, after humblfi prost^t idf-n^ 
litdng up hds ryes and hands to Hea\ ^n, he 
dellljeraalv repeated the alphabv.; '• And 
nov ,*' sai»l he, ^* O good Cjod* pu: these iet- 
t'T-. t'><^ji therio spell syllable, to spell words, 
to m.'ke such sense, as may be mo?t to thy 
glory iind my good.** 

Digitized by 




An' h'^-v sh-xil I ri-jj-y 
J he I' 'ixv >-s t.tic'i '"uic i <*ai)'i' f i* n,c^ 

AiJ >'>J'wh th) r!')-.:-:^ day' 

\n\ love v-»u :na'Je I'^.vice.tsc lo wtf-p. 
Oh huhh'a njy .•|\>loij^it icari in S'-rci-f 
nnd v..i'ch\i *,>:■. a*j i h); 

^N! \cs, '«r.d vl- ^vh. n '^Vvr !)'jri^.':U 
Or b'i'ihV* lijV.Ti II' iict; 

\Vi.rMi ;..Mi hast pr\ M v i;'.. :• :»n'iil eye, 
'i he '* it.>:::trch f.i mv in-v\ «*" 

.*".'J './.all it. mo'her. «:«. tr be— 

U eVr JT-v scw'i th-.- ''t'i>t <iti:1tJ-. 

A.ii ill her pra; *-• ^;-ow«i! 
Pf^icvc n.e, f.)* 1 u. *r ;;«;•«;, 

Mv Ki;;.: )<>vc 1 y.cj.l; 
And ■^s\vV';i .n n,^ '}.. fancy, 
"l »:(.i* rtio-^ ln.'.iov.- thy care c:. mc, 

Uv ItC'^.less a;;, : Til shit Id. 

bo t! a- tbv isbt departing; breath 

J^ji.;^' i/i^ss nie ui the ••.;:!• of Ji^uth* 
A'jfl WL )i my sjjiri: ilit^ij, 

fvjid \ji „T me ui. the wjii^ o. iovc. 
Iv :i awiiuns lu the aLic: 

He by !»i> kin;; vj* lu'd :n h-ruvi'. 'ove; 
•t) all his n'.dc spT?axi tribv- Mt rev:-?'icc U*'!d 
i'or mild d'-'inean'-^'ir. H • vs.ui.r«^^I 'ha: hii. ':)f- 
Picroed i\ir .ato .^le" o'>i;vir..}i j,a- /■ i ' can: 'd 
Tht n^.ip nf or'.' a \t T .u", trat fk^-cn to hiin 
Hevralea all jccrel *h''*^^. U-cui n'.\u r . huXi 

S >t>»e heavcii st^f^' nii 
'It Id linn lUt V. ill t-f . 

:t:a:.0'->-d birr, in. 

"- hir. ii?U"\\ .u cur 
i^er, in \v',ii. jitr Eoft, 
^v*. vbo nJ. 'j'vr n^Cii. 

Far m a c',uli' ht^^ca-li a mni"\^:^in'i ') •• v.-, 

SttKtd lti(%io\. n ill, ■♦.'Oil !. f till:. a;;cd =ct:r. 

Soii'C rno£3"y trct"^ bcni over his ri U; rvt, 

Ar.d swj".ging^ to the their giani ftrtiis», 

Mdd« ■i.u-^^'ck I.!. ' ihc daslii. g of the ica. 

A bed, %on)c rubhy stat'^. a i '.u'.berHi.^ chesf, 

Coji.}jc?e<^. the tcant* IVm itute vM' 

l-rrn ih«.' luar:i». with r-^ r.t d*v j/.led, 

A watch d' ,; • U.}i5')„H;d, grey with many ycai:* 

A'.n-'iida'): du A'-j-'st.'., kis it nd ii>aRttr. 

AiuJ j^rat -n't to rhr h;:d which i^ive hun food, 

fifc sli;i» ber«.i or/-, v rit-rt ir.e old iny, 

A-:d *0(''>'-.t'd }.;.*: In a!' bi.s ii -.u'-lVJ w-b^*^. 

A)i '»i»lv c^.itd wuTvi 'l^he Jt-ciii-nj; rigs'? 
(iltbi" MU'' '.■>■•"..; A..ora \. *is *=.:e raJl'd: 
A fr.T'ji- :i.^id i.(» i:xr.c_^' tv^^- f^-nn'd. 
"I'u:^ had Hjv. r. b.. , aiid r.u;.it 'ed ' .^'-Je'^'i >ct. - 
Si.. f on her \ui \ b- t ha; j.y t"aU'.« r b\<\u d. 
tier lorn^ ^\ a« T^^'y.u Iti oy r le ^ d'u.^t .j^ia« ■ , 
K'A'f ci o er ii.;r . icc b-' ,vn<.hH.j': siini^i-. arid c\r 
Hcr .'.>..:, li'tfj iti! a bhi>nM;^ tiuo^f oi i-uir 
Ai'o s.t:p> so :i^;Vt'i;, .^.b Az.-ra's in-^v'u 
1;. -.i.c r,a gaiitbt-ls totiie i-j^^r's '.fui.o, 
V*^ ! t".. \ei'j\s njO'j'./d.^bt 'dent vipon lb*; bills. 
.Sbill'd was iio fiuhcr ro di^\^ nia*>ick forth 
From jtriog.v laat, iikcbt ihtitc ot a ry ba/p» 
Breu'hcd riv^ohiiig ?ivi '.^ad 'nei itiiieucej 
And be hod ta'igbt bis dau^h^r ad bb> art 
Ancj oil .vl.en iwib.'b*: srtbj i.puii the vid-:, 
Ar.a ir iicr sirp*; cuamourtU S;lt'i-.cir cud '-, 
.'\/.i ra's liUrp wa^ liearti, Azoi?'- voicc 
Coit.par.ioiiUig — far bvcett r iha^- -b own. 
{Jl'v bt ton'ir.uf^i.) 

Tbf t--- .bli>ln">en» ba^.<>riiriU 
ir. d'uft. '.nid cor^iU > AiKv c-xjm ■- 
ii.t'ii prun^'|>t Tfinlttincc oi onv .i^ 
b-ni *■■' b'jo'date. 

Hi^i.ig been eifbt >cirs an a^'nnt for '.ev?'-al res- 
'■?*c abb- cd;u^rs,thc rd/^orofi,!^ K. V. isre'.tt'» torrn- 
d-i ever_' service b!8 siti'ation ari^nb^, \a :^jd«t;<;ji •*:'^^ 
bis paper, to lb., ^e ]»-intc;s vSu^im he bob.cus tc t!;:- 
ctnuvf by tV-iwardir.^ to tb.-iti hi: p-r- vt nutribtr. 

He pr;sciU5 b.> waimts*. iban^^s Lo h'". jo^rt p'r- 
i.jii'.'i and patro!!':, aijd assures 'b-iri, ihat it 'S.n. 
men an-Moui wi^h ro rondi >.t cbs paper in sik" .*- 
niar.:»er as lo merit, and to«.3tqiiP'vlv ser^mv ibfi: b-.- 
v^urs a:Ki ^';ood < -pin on. Hl- vcritur.^:- lo iv.icr* No I 
of tb.' Ucv '.-rdcr presun'b.^,that '>".t \vb "- ha*, c'^r-i tv- 
an tleva'.*--! j^r^u: r» bi it. lai/ accvJiV'bsnn.f't- , a» u 
!.GU5tT.>cs a sjr.:»bte nb;i:d, v. bl not -j^ -ap^oji-^ ibc *;.•-■ 
pC'wt^tiou- to \\\ ich his c-.:/.v hr*^ r^'Vr r. b»ri'.i 


J .V^r'-afitu iV:et». , h Juhr. BUiir Li.m, D. I), 


F-irin the c'tbT, ■.d.^b*d by tbrt res'icss wave, 
iV.otitalv'.a i^re • if, htr h'Jd aSid iVuittu! shore,,; 
ri fr.-, dweu a pe.'plc 'bttt^ ;cu(nvn to A''ani<f, 
BuL IfVavi^ and h.irv'y. i'lo hisu-nc': pa^c 
Has held M:e> picture to S'jtcceding ycari 
Not lind Tbo>e cu-i.(US — inusc l::ir/.i:k d'. :<ic — 
Those eaiiy scenes --I'lovo, v^hi:h n : ^bi jusui: 
'i iie cl dd.'ca of u e isi-.-ii p-^ ar.d ctauvj. 

r.'^^rii Tuscan origin th.s p^i^pic spiaiif;;. 
A wand'im^ mbc. — tbcy Ith tKcir iiaiivs^ belds 
in i.earc'a oi uiuer chincs, a:^d or thoss shorf^i 
WhiMi tney \!oiralvia cali'd. ib« y rear'd their ter.ts, 
-\r'd furm'd th^jr homti. Tupin as he fiew, incrcu'^'d 
i ntirr.umi.'frand uieir strenj^ib, ;-;iii iiiirouuccd 
't'iie arts, to orr.aiuciu tbeir domes — ibeir w ub'^ — 
Their wide spread cities, and iheir waving Ji^lds; 
T'> brighten all the jov 3 of social life. 

■; brouf-H thf long waste of time, O kc me look 
Oa ibose vjld rej^icn.''. un *he':r waving wood**, 
>n thvir high rocks, beat b^' unc»:abing storms! 
Rjst to my view embodied fbrmjof mei,; 
Ai.d b'*b''r, aiiy Fancy, speed thy liight; 
Vi.r'd t.h;- recoid- v.-hisper to my e*r 
'Ihy burning thoughts; lend me thy wings, and bear 
Me over tract'* mvi&ited by man. 
Thy Fjiiry Vi.- ot\£ of: have met my eyes, 
Whf^n niii&'-»g m the oark of sohtodc 
And night; oft h&t'ning to thy wayv-ard dreams, 
I've followed 'hee oVr ebiud^ap'd hdls, o'er itreami^ 
O'er piams, O'er sccixhiug sandss o*er unsunn'd Luy.s, 
O vT deserts nightly vex'd by stormy blasts: 
How be my guide once Uicre, and let m/ song 
P'ovc nut unworthy of thy varying powers, 
And not m. pleasing for the woilu to hear! 

A nan revered Montalvia liv'd, 
AJcesies fam'd, \v\v bowed with weight rf ye.>r3- 

IN 1 lllig.lm:e. 


7'he Spanish Province of Guva^u in Soiiih America, 
<:;a the I itU of j;.ne, l^UU, ibjclart-d in laviur of Ferdi- 
r.and VII. Maracavbo ai.d Ooro had i-uvinusly do'^e 
the same: The Cor.ular olFice at P.i^lacb iphia, nas 
pt;bl«sucd tbe*5j fact:: and stdes '■he r"vi^;!un »n in Ca- 
racia^iiia insiTrectjoji. and aunoi'rce^ that :^!iinicrcourse 
io pn>hM.>reiI with rh*u- part- whicli s ill cor.tniue in 
'.osdrr(-ciio.H and 'bat ?-\\ ve .b'-I- attcnp'iv.;^; \o tender 
.•^,^i?;^ncc to LiiC iiu*it tn'.a, v. ili be ron^;-^tiCd as good 

pr: 'Cv. 

ir ii -i;;>''»> 'icd of Cor.rt'*, that a civil u a» cxisrs in 
Scutii'/Mucr'^^;t, .tu one side, \\vi royal f-arty cf terbi- 
.'uid, a. id "ji tne, *'ue indi^]>tndcniparl) , tl;<.* con- 
vcqii'-nC'.^ tvill j>:' bably be. a ioi.g ^taic ol d:3tracu'.u.> 
and io.'-)bjli -ns, i. ..ft b^ ing pr^.babtc those hnmt.ioC 
p^f v*nct:u Vv-1 : -ns'y peopled, uid soon be In-Cj^iu 10 
uiiiro under rovalty or indepeiulcnce. 

Advce;, fro'n.i the North cf Euinpe represent our 
nade \^i^b Dciiinjri- . Svvtdcn, and Rjssia, at present 
z', tolcaol) safe; but liab)3 and c>en in dagger of '"al 
b.ig under seizure at the insVi^ati'jn of i ranee. 

idsineur U blockaded bv the English. 

Mr Wirdbum, a conspicuous n.vniher of be Brit- 
ish parlian^ent, and vvno ba^ borne mat.y h;i;b oifr.eb, 
is dead, and ioid GicnviHe .a> daT.f,eroi,<ly \\\. 

An attempt to a^sassinatc the Duke, ol Cnmbtrlandj 
fifih ?on of George lil. has been made by h-s \ale:.— 
Several v.cunds nere inflicted on the <iuke. Fhe valci 
cut his own throat iji^mediately with a ra^or. Tiae 
cause of the attempt is uncertain. 


The President and Secretary have left Washington 
for their respective homes. A government: veist-j, the 
Hornet is despatched to France and Eu^^iand. 

On the 24ih of this i'jstant, the Vixen Brig of War 
belonging to the United States, rear the Bahama 
Banks, wa^i Hred upon irom the Moselie Lnghsh Brig 
of War — Gircumstarccs not yet fully expiaMicd. 

To Subscr:bt*ii, Primers, and Corrt'spjndenu. 

The Editor of the R, V embraces the first oppoitu- 
niiy of acknowledging his obligations to ihclil>era: ti- 
couragemcni of his Uiends and neighbours gtiwiaUy : 

Jo ''.. .'->>/-s Jt J-f vf-tc 

A va'.'.'.'ib'e 't^a'.iiii:; J'arr.i, sifw.-^^ m *'.«' to'.-- r..'^b:;; ' . 
l)o\.-t.f, cv't' of v...inntM-r:.'',r.d, New-Jc -t.) . '. ir.i.u. - 
r^;-^ ;JiOiv, *}0v) i'cre'-,, J''6*/r n'b;c' ait ')ap*x'^.< m«.ad'- . 
a L> lisidevablt prt pwrcioncfu o*'-!;!" hr.M ui :j't>; '^ ;a.<' 
or SL/eiioi-'' to :i.ii/ m ib.' latr ;or ra.Eu j; C;rai;'i ' f 
erapaj :v"'"id t^*" residue M.xy *vc nr'r.le so at :• r.'):».i: ._ • - 
j'cO'.vi in-: r:-n»a:)R: r of tho farm ca\isi5tF. '-'f ITO .1' * -" 
of uoobbiud, rnd *. » I acre> of ur.vL.s. iaiid, zu :ii ■:: '>-^- 
cv viJioM.;;- ', \^ '.lie bawbed .i.c.'idov^; -'^O^TCres ^'f ^.. : 
*^ta*'i!;, r.r.ct Tl ;.ciPS of ccd't'- ^watnp. »>. sight, in<l ;> - 
a hburt dista-.i-c {\^^x■ U\" . ,2'";.v, -^ • The «raulr I^i c 
i'^ cf an ;."-"'!•' ' s:m!, }k ,;.. jd ikc-n,:, ai-fi is c irt\'Lr''c-i - 
ly divideb v. .-.h ^j^HKi cuU*- rail fe'.iti .. a iieic ar: ..r. 
the p'rend.;- two Oicbau;,-, of e>.e«-ile'^t frujt. a P"^-. 
garden, a coi.:n-.Ovb u^:;*- .tor. tr.^'.ied'vebtng-ho! -> 
I .:i\t btjrn, vm d 'i'.u ^iv^ nv'Jer's iiousc, {^u:c tw o i:t;' 

\^ic-i a rumb.- ^^t 

-•.re 'j.;»te out of rcj-.*:r) :ogttb 
other coL'.t^riivnces. 

'x ni- J lua'aii^v,, besides vjp; 
K-^a^j y'A can:, •x\\^ \it!d an a:i 

■ 7, a St. < k o'l : 
'urp'il of .-•/ b- 

\ Vt- r> CO) .Jl. 

Ob tors of haN f'>r sale. .\ u.iir) 
ble ex'cut, ma) be cCiir.fJ oi , 
sii'J), th-tt a:, adv'.v.'-i-: b n;a:ket torbewl.j.b pro- 
duce ofOie *umi vt lil oc auvay, tV oud tm ine s^poc A 
icny \\z . b.^n u'^ieicdorc ktpt at io«. pl.»c'.^ fur ma*'- 
;. ear>, t btmg Jic nj j,: do-, cr r'U'e \r<n\ t\\*^ lower 
ccunlies to Caj «?-May— ha\ -i r j. snait b ad'".^; 
from thefej»y directly thr Uf-b thr •/ tit. to the t.^.v; 
of Dr*!'.> C»et:.5. dii>ia:i. '1.1-4 unles at v. ' m. .• 
place there is a poa^ esiaoi'^MO 0»i the o \ -^ 
s» e si'e o!' the river i^ :s CMnteuphted >>avo ? i rv ci 
laid out to the. town if Ltesburg. distant ib'-n 1 1- 
m'"^-, fr.n? wbi^h flace 1^ d.ree« road is ojKticd 
C-*(-e-Ma), whicli will r<^mpi"te tt;e conm.tinie.Vi. i*^ 
lh;ough the c unry on liie Jiost direct i'-r-j elirit-if* 
r«K«te, thereby a^ ^iding all thos** heavy sanii'. wl^/v '. , 
much retard and i..iigiie the travtile/ i-i bis pre^*;... 
rou t by JV'n,i\d}e and Port-Flizabetb. Vh- n js -Av .v 
lai.uin^estuob- bed near the terry, vvbeT*; luit^b r ii^ sen' 
oil i!i etjov.d«'rabic quautme. to n.arke:. axid \i encuut 
a^enieni watj givej: vciy large < iKv.Uitics oonld be c. 

Tu.s estate is plea£ant?y ard advanr-^jeouslv ti'^o.i 
ted at the jiinc! on of tM.:iaiue nvw -.vul. the IJeia 
ware, and ccnur- --'*s a.'. t.\u\\ -^ve v.m of the I h-.— 
1 iriapins^cla.uL and oysters T'...\ be bad inai>iinda'-cp. 
vjthnia short oisrance: and -'.sb 1 ^ ar»d fo.vliMp- d 
various kiuds .1* their Sv'a.oij*-. Con* ct'^ied in e\try 
noini uf view, th.s farn^ has not jrs tnuj] n th<; coun 
ryot CumberlajKl, perhaps, ui Wes'- Jersey, a;:J s to 
uituated as to be convtrdeutl, t'lvided jnto two tarma. 
i b-^ whole « f ibis propejtv v.dt be- sold together, ^•■ 
separate!), as niav (est tuit lii- ^nirch.a«;er. The {ix^- 
menis w dl l»e madj tjz\, posses-i 0,1 given the 25rh o. 
March nt\v, and an indbspuiablc tide rnadt for th': 
iaii c 

It IS intended, if the above property ii not sold before 
the i5d; day or March next, to lease out the cauic. fct 
a jer'c ot y-^ats, oji ati improving leu3e; or yesr'y f *r 
a certain rtr.t. Am person wtshing to uadert:-kc tbt 
bai'e, or a part thc-vd", :nay dep..^nd .ipon having it ui: 
a generous Uv, c-ithci the uhoie or in part, as ii is ex- 
oected u \»iil be divided into two fa^nis, fur the bet- 
ter accommod.;tiDg tliose who wish to lease the samt 

Wtoduury, June ZO, IBIO. 

Pnbihhed Wetkhj^ hj D. Alhnson^ 
cirv or BuauiNTro??, n j. 
Price two doUani a year— one half p^^able in adva.;ct, 
<u^ oihtr Mt six monttiE 

Digitized by 




^ Homo sum / humani nihil a me alienum fiuto.*^ — Man and his cares to me a man^ are dear* 

VOL. I. 


No. 2. 

No. II. 

I)ui fit Mecaenas, ut nemo quam sibi sortem, 
Seu ratio dederit, seu fors objecerit, ill4 
Contentus vivat? 

While mankind are employing their time 
in vain pursuits after happiness, while each 
individual pursuing a different path, which 
his fancy represents as the only true one, 
expects at length to be rewarded with the • 
objects of his desires and of his labours; still 
the sentiment of the poet remains uncontra- 
dicted, a melancholy memento of the vanity 
of every thing sublunary 

" Man never is, but always to be, blest/* 

though poetry, is no fiction; can this arise 
from happiness being incompatible with hu- 
man nature? or is it because our researches 
have ever been improperly directed? 

My own opinion is, that it results rather 
from a combination of these two causes, than 
from either singly. In endeavouring to ob- 
tain happiness unalloyed with care, unembit- 
tered with one disagreeable incident, man 
aims at an object far above his reach, which 
rationally he cddnot expect to obtain; but, 
at the same time, deluded by the fascinating 
picture of perfect felicity, he too frequently 
refuses to enjoy the pleasure which presents 
itself to his view. He rejects with contempt 
and disdain, the enjoyments which Provi- 
dence has kindly mingled in his cup, and 
looks for that " perpetuity of bliss" which it 
falls not to the lot of mortals to enjoy: he too 
frequently by grasping at a shadow, loses the 

Such is the constitution of man, that he is 
ever desiring some addition to his enjoy- 
ments. This property of his nature, though 
intended to rouse his efforts and incite him 
to industry, is too frequently productive of 
injurious consequences: he considers happi- 
ness as centered in terrestrial objects; but 
sad experience always informs him, that no 
treasures, however great — no power, howev- 
er formidable— no fame, however extensive 
—no pleasures, however alluring, can pre- 
vent his becomiqg disgusted with satiety, and 
wearied with fruition. He still " longs for 
something unpossessed." Though in cir- 
cumstances which excite the envy of sur- 
rounding thousands, he exclaims with Ovid 
in his exile, 

" Nostra per adversas agitur fortuna proceUas, 
SoTte nee nlla mea tristior esse potest." 

Such are the effects of a discontented 
mind.-— It is an observation which has fre- 
quently beeu made^nad which has been con« 

iirme^ by the experience of ages; that most 
of our sufferings and afflictions arise from 
the disposition with which we view the com- 
mon occurrences of life, and our pleasures 
and enjoyments may generally be attributed 
to the same cause. 

Actual misfortunes and calamities seldom 
occur, and generally speaking, they are dis- 
tributed with impartiality; they are as often 
found in the palaces of princes, as in the hum- 
ble cottages of peasants. Some there doubt- 
less are, who, "have felt the influence of ma- 
lignant star," some who have experienced the 
most cruel strokes of adverse fortune and all 
the severity of misery; but how seldom are 
we afHicttd with accidents or disasters which 
should be suffered even to rob the brow of 
its smile ! — Yet notwithstanding the real 
equalities of our conditions, the different de- 
grees of happiness are almost infinite. — 
Whence can this arise but from ourselves ? 
though there can be no condition, where we 
cannot discover something which would add 
to its beauties and delights, still we should 
learn to prefer viewing the bright side of the 

Objects viewed through the different ends 
of a telescope appear not more unlike, than 
the same condition, to one who is satisfied 
and contented, and him who is brooding over 
factitious griefs and unreal sorrows. In the 
one case, every charm is heightened, every 
beauty increased; and those circumstances 
which are harsh and disagreeable are consid- 
ered as incident to every thing human, and 
as by the contrast, adding increased beauty 
to the more agreeable: In the other, the ob- 
jects with which he is dissatisfied are made 
the principal figures in the picture, and pre- 
vent the rise of those pleasing emotions 
which would otherwise have been excited. 

I hope I shall not be considered as the 
advocate of that species of content which 
springs not from principle, from feeling, nor 
from virtue; but arises from an apathy of 
disposition which can receive neither plea- 
sure from beautiful, nor pain from disagree- 
able scenes; a content which belongs to infe- 
riour animals, and is unworthy of that being 
who was created in the li!:eness and simili- 
tude of his Maker. No two things can be 
imagined more entirely different in every 
aspect in which they can be viewed. The 
one springs from a heart refined by delicacy, 
softened by virtue, and animated by feeling: 
The other belongs to him who possesses not 
sufl^ient soul to perceive and admire the 
beauty of delicacy, the loveliness of virtue, 
nor the warmth of feeling. The one is foun- 
ded on the true and solid basis of religion; 
the other is built on rottenness and stubble. 
As their causes are different^ and in fact dia- 

metrically opposite; in like manner, their 
effects bear not the most distant or faint 
resemblance. The one heightens^ every plea- 
sure, " makes every scene of enchantment 
more dear," diffuses over every object an 
animating glow, and brightens every pros- 
pect: The other, reduces every thing to its 
own level, strips us of ef ery gratification, 
and presents in the same colours the most 
charming and disgusting objects. 

The advantages which would result to 
mankind, were they to cAiltivate the disposi- 
tion which it is the object of this essay to re- 
commend, are incalculable. It wDukl diffuse 
a calfc serenity over every part of our jour- 
ney through life, add a zest to every enjoy- 
ment, and diminisl " jap- 
pointment: Thoug Imit 
of improvement, st em- 
per, a contented sta ider 
it delightful. Tho the 
jaundiced eye of d; ned 
with thorns, would, sem 
strewed with roses t of 
mind would, like i the 
dismal melancholy sent 
affect us, into the de- 
lightful prospects; uch 
of Midas, transmut d. 

Why then do w< )ath 

which alone leads t k is 

not so difficult as w< d is 

adequate to the labc Su- 

man life presents a variegated prospect, che- 
quered with alternate scenes of joy and grief, 
of happiness and misery; let us then cultivate 
a disposition which will add fresh bloom to 
" The rose of enjoyment," and deprive the 
thorn of its power to sting. 


No. II. 

On the duration of particular varieties. 

The existence of every variety of die apple 
appears to be confined to a certain period, 
during the earlier parts of which only, it can 
be propagated with advantage lo the planter. 
No kik)d of apple now cultivated appears to 
have existed more than 200 years; and this 
term does not at all exceed the duration of a 
healthy tree, or of an orchard when grafted 
on crab stocks, and planted in a strong tena- 
cious soil. 

All plants of this species however propaga- 
ted from the same stock, partake in some de- 
gree of the same life, and will attend the pro- 
gress of that life, in the habits of its you^ 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 


its maturity and its decay, though it will not 
be injured by any incidental injuries which 
the parent tree may sustain after they are 
separated from it. 'fhe roots however and 
the trunk adjoining them appear to possess 
in all trees a greater degree of durability than 
the bearing branches, having the power of 
jiroducing new branches when the old ones 
have been destroyed by accident or even by 
old age. 


It is an erroneous opinion, that any defect 
either in the flavour or consistence of fruits, 
may be remedied by the kind of stock on 
which they may be afterwards engrafted. 

The goodness of the fruit is never affected 
by any siock of the same species. 

The office of the stock is in every sense of 
the word subservient; and it acts only in obe- 
dience to the impulse it receives from the 
branches; the only qualities there/ore which 
»re wanting to form a perfect stock are vi- 
gour and hardiness. «. 


Each blossom of the apple and pear con- 
tains about twenty males and five female 

A few days before the blossoms expanded 
I opened the petals and destroyed all the 
males, and left the females uninjured; when 
the blossoms were fully expanded I impreg- 
nated them with farina taken from another 
tree with which I wished to cross the kind, 
grew rapidly. Some 
r to partake of the 
parent, some of the 
jy are both blended, 
capable of resisting 
md is the best to be 
for cider. 

Should be taken from the parent stock 
during the winter, and not later than the 
end of the preceding year, for if the buds 
have begun to vegetate in the smallest de- 
gree, the vigour of the shoots during the first 
season will be diminished. 

Large scions are preferable to small. 

Seedlings generally produce apples at 
twelve years old. And grafts taken from 
seedlings and inserted in old stocks will not 
produce fruit until the tree producing the 
scions, has arrived to a bearing age. 

Pbnts whose buds in the annual growth, 
are most full and prominent, bear better than 
those which grow more flat and are small 
and shrunk into the bark. 


• The properties which constitute a good 
apple for cider, and the dessert, are seldom 
found in the same fruit, th6ugh they are not 
incompatible with each other. The firmness 
of the pulp which is essential in the. eating 
apple, is useless in the cider fruit, in the best 
kinds of which it is often tough, dry and 
fibrous^ and colour which is justly disre- 
garded in the former, is among the first good 
qualities of the latter. Some degree of 
<a&fringency also which is injurious to the 

eating fruit is always advantageous tcf the 

When the rind and pulp are green, the 
cider will be always thin, weak and colourless; 
and when they are deeply tinged with yellow, 
it will, however manufactured, or in whate- 
ver soil it may have grown, always possess 
colour with either strength or richness. The 
substances which constitute the strength and 
body in this liquor, generally exist in the same 
proportion with the colour, though there 
does not appear to be any necessary connec- 
tion between the tinging matter and the other 
component parts. 

A cider apple is too late that does not be- 
come mellow before the end of October, (in 

The Siire is an early fruit and makes the 
strongest cider. 

Almost every apple possessed of colour 
and richness is capable, either alone or in 
mixture with other kinds, of making fine 

Readers of taste aremostlyfondofy/tW writ- 
ten Epistles: to be: so^ they must communi- 
cate incident and anecdote with graceful 
ease^ and disclose knowledge with familiar 
dignity. Specimens of thiskind of literature 
we conceive may properly occupy a part of 
our pages ^ and gratify such among our 
readers as are aiming to improve themselves 
in an elegant accomplishment. We trusty 
that a selection from a volume written by 
the pious and learned Jacob Duchi^ will 
justly class under this description* £d. 

To the Right Honourable Lady Caroline S , 

at Bath. 

I am truly concerned, my honoured lady, 

at the account which Lord H gives me 

df your present indisposition: but 1 hope a 
proper regimen, with a cautious use of the 
Bath waters, which, I am told, have been 
ver}' serviceable in such cases as yours, will 
aflbrd you a speedy recover}^ Chronical 
complaints, indeed, are not easily overcome. 
Few have resolution enough to. persevere in 
such a change of diet, and constant attention 
to what physicians call the non-naturals^ as 
would bring the whole systei^ into its former 
temperature. The science of medicine, how- 
ever, seems to be approaching fast to the same 
perfection of simplicity, as that of true reli- 
gion. Both of them have their foundation in 
the constitution of man. And the disorders 
of the body, as well as those of the soul, will 
ere long be better understood, and more skil- 
fully treated than they have hitherto been. — 
I am no friend to nostrums in either case ; 
and I entertain as poor an opinion of your 
empiricks in divinity as of those in medicine. 
Instantaneous operations may be serviceable 
in many chirurgical cases, and perhaps in 
some physical ones: but the change from a 
confirmed bad habit of body to a good one, 
cannot, in the nature of the thing, be sud- 
denly accomplished by any application in the 

Dr. Cheyne, whatever whimsical peculi- 
arities he may be charged with, will, upon 
the whole, be found to have laid a sure basis 

for future success in the practice of medi- 
cine: and I shall not at all be surprised^ if 
at some future day, an admirer of his system 
should ve^turjc to step aside, as he did, from 
the beaten track, and, without the pomp of 
learned prescription, gently lead Wis afflicted 
patients into the narrow walk of temperance; 
from thence conduct them to the fields of 
exercise, which are ever invested with a most 
salubrious air; and, at last, to complete the 
cure, and establish perfect health, both of 
mind and body, place them, tranquil and 
serene, in the delightful bowers of religious 
peace and heavenly consolation. For cer- 
tain it is, that there is a most intimate con- 
nexion, and sensible sympathy, betwixt the 
soul and the body:''and Dr. Cheyne is well 
supported by the experience of all men in all 
ages, when he asserts, that the inward and 
irregular passions of the soul do more real 
injury to the organized material vehicle, 
which it inhabits, than all the outward as- 
saults, which this vehicle sustains from all 
the outward elements of nature. 

One grand defect a sensible reader cannot 
but discover in Dr. Cheyne's system; and 
that is, that he prescribes to every constitu- 
tion almost invariably one and the same 
regimen, without making a sufiicient allow- 
ance for different complexions, or inveterate 
habits. Nay, he supposes that that state of 
the body must needs be very bad, in which 
his peculiar regimen is not kindly received, 
and does not favourably operate. — For my 
own part, I have enjoyed a good share of 
health for many years past, though 1 have 
never been able to use one or two essential 
ingredients in his diet, without great incon- 
venience. A temperate glass, I think, may 
innocently exhilarate the spirits, without en- 
flaming the blood; and I see no reason why 
1 may not get strength from the juice of the 
vine, as well as from any other vegetable or 
animal substance. In truth, every cr.^ature 
of God is good, and becomes ** sancufied^^ 
that is, proves salutary to my soul as vvlU as 
my bo(ly, Mhen it is '' received with prayer 
and "thanksgiving.^^ 

You see, my dear lady, what a train of 
reflections the accoimt of your illness hath 
raised in my mind: As I am but a sciolist 
in physical matters, so I am careful to speak 
only xvh?it I know^ and testify what I have 
felt. Common sense, and a little attention 
to what generally agrees or disagrees with 
our constitution, will set us right whenever 
we are wrong; or, what is better, keep us 
at all times from offending against our own 

Your own experience hath already told 
you, that in religious concerns you have an 
infallible monitor within: and your own feel- 
ings are painful or delightful according as 
you resist or attend to its counsels. This 
reduces SJl the fancied obscurities of religioH 
to plain, obvious and simple truths. This 
makes us behold the same light, that irradi* 
ates the soul of the christian, breaking forth, 
though with feebler ray, in the untutored 
breast of the roaming savage. 

To this blessed monitor doth the Author 
of Christianity continually appeal, and to 
bring it forth into eKercise and energ>% w» 

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{he grand design of his coming into the 
world. Hence the invaluable blessing of an 
outward revelation, which alone could give 
us a true information of the latent powers 
that are lodged in our breasts, and furnish us 
with an unerring standard of their real and 
proper employment and effects. 

But this is a topick, which I need not en- 
large upon to a lady, who has not now her 
religious principles to seek. Under all the 
weaknesses of a delicate constitution, I well 
know, you have an internal support, that 
raises you above the feelings of mortality. 
You have too much good sense, as well as 
fortitude, either to be reasoned or laughed 
t)Ut of your religion; and though you are a 
stranger xo false enthusiasm^ yet you are not 
ashamed to acknowledge yourself an humble 
admirer of the true. 

During my residence in America, I have 
not met with more than one or two of your 
sex, who have made any pretensions to infi- 
delity — Pretensions I may vtvy properly call 
them, because the sentiments they would 
vainly be thought to have adopted, are per- 
petually contradicted by an irresistable testi- 
mony within thtra. To call in question the 
spirituality and future existence of the human 
soul, its divine origin, and necessary de- 
pendence upon its Parent God — to doubt 
of the superintending care of a wise and 
good Providence, and confound or abolish 
the necessary distinctions between good and 
evil — these are such glaring absurdities, such 
flat contradictions to common sense, and uni- 
versal experience; as must needs degrade 
the person that espouses them below the rank 
of humanity. Even those retailers of ancient 
end modern sophistry, Hume and Voltaire, 
who have poisoned so many weak and tender 
intellects with their gilded pills of unbelief, 
cannot but shudder in secret, at the dread- 
ful success of their prescriptions; especially, 
when they come to reflect, that they have not 
only shaken the very foundations of virtue in 
thousands of their own sex, but have, like- 
wise, in some few deplorable instances, 
yobbed the fairest part of our species, of tl>at 
peculiar softness and delicacy, which are 
characteristick of their sex, and which are 
not only effectually preserved, but amazingly 
improved and heightened by the heavenly 
charm, which true religion alone can impart. 

A female free-thinker is as awkward imd 
pitiable a character as can be conceived. She 
loses every attraction, that can win the lover ^ 
and sacrifices ever}' amiable sensibility, that 
ought to preserve the heart of the husband. 
I am not surprised to hear of so many late 
instances of conjugal infidelity in Britain, 
The breast that finds no real delight in reli-t 
gion, and is taught to look upon virtue as a 
visionary thmg; is soon open to the allure- 
ments of false pleasure: And Mr. Hume has 

furnished many a Lady G with fine and 

specious apologies; for engaging and perse- 
vering in an unlawful amour. 

Thank heaven! 'this infernal system has 
not found many admirers among the Ame- 
rican fair. They still retain their lioiicsi 
attachment to ^religion ^nd common s^nse. 
The arts of gallantr) are little known, and 
les^ practised in these last retreats of perse- 

cuted virtue. Conjugal infidelity on eithe'* 
side is sure to be stamped with indelible 
ignominy; and the oflfender, though seem- 
ingly protected by opulence or power, or the 
most distinguished abilities, is soon torn 
down from the highest post of trust or ho- 
nour, by the resentment of a virtuous people, 
and condemned to pass his future days in in- 
famous obscurit}^ 

I well know, my good lady, that this little 
representation, which is ind^^ed strictly just 
and impartial, will prejudice your virtuous 
heart in favour of the people among whom 
I now happily reside. Indeed, before I left 
England, you began to think highly of this 
New Worlds from the frequent conversations 
you had with several of our military acquain- 
tance, who had spent some years on this side 
the Atlantick, and whose observations I have 
since found to be sensible and true. 

Poor Captain B— left us a week ago 
with an heavy heart. The gay, sprightly, 
and magnanimous hero, you will find chang- 
ed into a poor, whining and disconsolate 
lover. A sly little American hath made 
him her willing captive; though I could tell 
him, for his comfort, that whilst she was 
securing him with her silken chain, she 
entangled herself at the same time, in such 
a manner, that 1 believe neither of them 
would now wish to be disengaged. He will 
doubtless pay your ladyship a visit at Bath; 
and you may assure him from me, that his 
little Leonora has retired into the country as 
love-sici as himself, to try for a few months 
the potent charms of shady groves and pur- 
ling streams. I am, with most sincere wishes 
for the presei-vation of your valuable life, 
Your Ladyship's 
Most obedient humble servant, 


Aug. 2, 1771. 

Annapolis^ July 7, 1810. 

Thf harvest of wheat and rye which is 
this week cutting and gathering to the gra- 
naries of our farmers, we are truly happy 
to state, from all the information we can 
collect, proves to be very plentiful in this 
neighbourhood, and promises from the hand- 
some prices of grain and flour, to remunerate 
its cultivators much better than the crops 
of tobacco can be expected to do during the 
present political gloom, however favourable 
the season may prove. We feel a renewed 
obligation to urge the policy to our friends, 
the planters^ of turning their attention and 
their lands more to their own interest and 


Lime applied to the roofs of houses. 

If you think, the following facts worth 
inserting, they are at your service. My 
reason for troubling you at this time, is to 
obviate if possible the frequency of the roofs 
of houses catching fire, in consequence of the 
learning of foul chimneys. 

I inhabited a house some years within a 
few miles of this city, in rather a lonely situ-* 

ation. Being fearful ^f accidents by fire, 
more especially from the chimney on a dry 
roof, I bethought me of many substances to 
apply to obviate the effects of that devouring 
element. It occurred to me that a good coat 
of slacked lime as hot as possible, might do. 
I tried it, and found it to answer my most 
sanguine expectations. Indeed it not only 
saved the roof from the efi*ects of fire (iu 
a great measure) but it is an excellent pre- 
servative to the shingles. Only lay it oii 
when the roof is perfectly dry and the sun 
shining. The roof may be done every second 
year. A peck of lime will be sufficient for 
a large house — ^the whole expense will not 
exceed two dollars. Superadded to which, 
I conceive it will give a lively appearance to 
our city. Foreigners observe the blackness 
of the roofs spoils the perspective beauties 
of one of the handsomest cities in the world. 
The above remedy and a few spires would 
certainly correct this deficiency. I sincerely 
wish my fellow citizens would adopt the 
white-washing the roofs of their houses. 
They may rest assured it would have all the 
advantages I have enumerated* My chim- 
ney was on fire and several heavy particles 
of burning matter fell on the roof, but re- 
mained harmless. The lime certainly pene- 
trates (when laid on hot) the substance of the 
shingles, and the grosser parts fill up the 
interstices between. 

I remain yours sincerely, 

T. H. 


on ik^ 



An imitation <^ an ^ 
Exile a 

The Euxine waves rn 

Where the sweet 1 
A foreigpi soil now hi 

The bard so dear t 

He, who was formed 

Is buried now with 
And Rome, hast thoi 

A heart more cold 

Could'st thou, unmoved behold the poet torn 
From each fond object to his soul most dear; 

A nd doomM to wander abject and forlorn, 
Nor yield the soothing tribute of a tear? 

Was there, O Muse ! no soothing tender friend. 
To calm the tedious hours of slow disease ? 

None who would o'er the dying bard attend, 
Or by sweet converse calm his mind to peace ? 

Was there no friend with gentle care to lull 
His raging suff'rings, in sleep's sweet repose? 

Was there not one his feverish brain to cool, 
Not one his stiffen'd limbs with care compose f 

Was there not one to close his dying eyes. 
Or kind receive his last departing breath ? 

No ! there was none ! >alone and sad he lies. 
In foreign lands, unknown, he sinks to death ! 

Thou martial Rome, with sovereign power severe^ 
His fond companions forced kt home to stay; 

Condemned those friends with sorrow to appear. 
Of him forgetful in his dying day. 

His wife, the much loved partner of his breast. 
His children doomed to mourn a father loved: 

By thy insatiate rage depriv'd of rest. 
Far from the source of all their bliss remov'd. 

Not one of these could calm the last sad hour 
Of Ovid, doom'd thy furious rage to feel. 

To suffer from th . barbarous savage power. 

Those pangs which no repentance now can heaL 

The cruel Bessee, the Sarmatian fierce. 
And e*en the rough Coralli, tears did shed; 

Those sionv hearts which pity scarce coUld pierce« 
Dissolv*ci in woe, now moum^he poet iud^ 

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These all have wept his. fate, have moum'd hU death, 
E'en from their savagt eyes, the lea^s did ro]!; 

They pitying watched the poets parting breath, 
And breathed in sadness their desponding soul. 

The woods, the mountains, seemed to feel a pain, 
And e*en the savage beasts were heard to moan, 

And Ister, as she rolled towards the main. 
Through her deep channels gave a hollow groan. 

The rosy loves, whose brows with mirth are crown'd. 
Who ne*er before had dropt one genial tear? 

The Paphian goddess, bending towards the ground 
Her lovely eyes, all mourned the bard so dear. 

High on the wood the poet's corps they laid. 
And tottch'd with holy fire the sacred pile. 

And while they wept o'er all the pomp they made, 
A soft sweet rapture caused a tearful smile. 

His bones they gathered, and with pious care, 
0*er his loved form, a monument they placed, 

Which from the Queen of Love these verses bear, 
Which long the tomb of exiled Ovid graced: 

'' Here lies the bard whose breast love's raptures 
" fired, 
" Whose grave with tears the snow white Venus 
" dew'di 
•• Here round his tomb, whom living she admhred, 
*• The sacred Nectar— seven times she strewed.** 

But oh ! ye Muses, who shall tell the strain. 

Which o'er your much lov'd bafd ye fondly sung ? 

Alas ! no traces of that song remain, 
C5n which enraptured all creation hung. 




On the still cottage of Alcestes rose 
The dawning smile, the brightening tints of morn. 
Propped by his staff, and followed by his dog. 
He bent his footsteps to the neighbouring shore: 
For still on nature he delighted looked. 
Mused o'er a world of grandeur drear and wild, 
With I * * * yet his eye reposed 

As fon >ftly fair. 

Arrive 1st the jutting rocks. 

And le jon his staJT, 

Gazed at his feet. 

While us he stood, 

A clou i of early day, 

The w y Caspian raved. 

And h< in the blast. 

Thus I ktal war. 

The sa^ ittering to the winds 

The burthens of his heart and wayward dreams, 
When suddenly and oft his ears were pierced 
By the loud barking of his faithful dog. 
Curious to know the cause, he turned his steps 
And sought his dog, whom at the water's edge. 
Pawing the sand, he found, and on the surge 
Bending a wistful and inquiring look; 
When lo ! the sage, lifting his eyes, beheld 
A man, whom waves had cast upon the shore. 
With members cold and stiff, bereft of life. 
Youthful he seemed, and noble in his form; 
His face and uncouth raiment plainly spoke 
A stranger, from some distant coast unknown. 

Alcestes raised him in his aged arms. 
Hoping that life was not quite flown beyond 
The strenuous call of his health-giving art; 
And aid obtaining, gently bore away 
To his low cot, and to his rushy bed. 
Nor was the hope deceitful, por his call 
InefficaciotiB. Soon he noted life. 
Yet tremoloQS, within the cUy^'Cold breast. 

Whh generous Care he and his daughter nursed 
The nnknown wand'rer; watch'd they o'er bis couch; 
By every ^tle healing art they wooed 
His lingering spirit back; and back it came. 
When first ke ope'd to the fair light his eyes, 
He saw Alcestes and Azora bending. 
With aaxiovs eyes and piteous, o'er his be^ 
And heard their cry of joy to see hin^ live. 
. Astounded he beheld them, and in voice 
9ut faint and scarcely audible, inquired, 
^* In what place he was cast, in what strange land, 
Aim) who the friends who saved a wretched wight, 
^o wandVings bom, to hardships and to tears V* 

KiniUy the veneraUe man replied: 
• QiMtiOstnMgeit cfcry doutyt aundicar, 

Xhe winds have cast thee in the house of friends. 
I snatched thee from the flood, I brought thee hither, 
And joy to see thee live and speak again. 
Receive then, youth, whate'cr my cell bestows; 
Mine and my daughter's hands shall give thee food 
And drink, and watch thy couch till strength returns. 
Rest, stranger, rest in peace till time restores 
Joy to thy heart, and vigour to thy limbs." 

The old man's prayer was heard; his guest's pale 
Was visited again by dews of health. 
A few succeeding days nerved his bold arm 
Again with all its wonted strength. He lived 
To thank his kind preserver for his care, 
To lavish blessings on his silver head. 
By more acquaintance, more his heart was linked 
To his protecting friends; knit were their souls 
In bonds of union undissolvable. 

Communing oft, the stranger asked the seer 
For tidings of the land before him spread. 
To him unknown, and now his place of rest. 
What race, he asked, sojourn in these long vales, 
Or harbour in the hills 1 see remote ? 
And who their judges, kings, and incensed gods i 

To whom the sage, in accents mild, replied: 
This realm, O stranger, fame reports afar; 
Its kindly soil rewards the ploughman's toil. 
And gives rich harvests to industrious hands: 
Green vallies meet the gladdened view; and streams 
Profusely flow through fields, and fill the air 
With coolness, and with murmurs musical* 

In shadowy lawns the sh 'pherd's pipe is heard 
To call the swains and rustic k maids to sport. 
While blows the gale embathtd in wholesome dews, 
And sweetly wanders o'er their heads the moon, 
And throws her silver lustre in their paths. 
Oft from the thicket, ai the still of night, 
Or mountain's side, the wildered peasant hears 
A voice of melody, more soft and shrill 
Than shepherd's reed, to which the fairy tribes 
Lead on the dance and hold their mystick rites. 



Informshis friends and thepuWick generally, that he 
has removed his Store the west side of High Street, 
a few doors above James Sterling, where he keeps a 
general assortment of 


suitable for the seasons, on liberal terms for cash or 
country produce. Having also undertaken an agency 
for Almy & Brown, he has on hand from their Manu- 
factory in Rhode Island, Knitting, Sewing, and Weav- 
ing Cotton Yam, blue and white do. for Warp and 
Filling, Bedticking, Stripes, Checks, Sheetings, Shirt- 
ings, &c- &c. &c. 

8th Mo. 6th. wtf 


By virtue of a Writ of Venditioni Exponas to me 
directed, will be exposed to sale, at pubiick vendue, on 
Saturday, the sixth day of October next, between the 
hours of twelve and five o'clock in the afternoon of 
said day, at the house of Joseph Hatkinson, inn-keeper 
in Mount-Holy; all that certain tract or piece of land 
containing about 80 acres, situate in the township of 
Northampton, and now in the tenure and occupation 
of Joseph Mc Intash. 

Seized as the property of the said Joseph Mc Intash, 
and taken in execution at the suit of Apollo Cooke, 
and to be sold by 

Wm. BORDEN, Late Sheriff. 

July 28th, 1810. 

Particulariy School Books, for sale by Thomas C. 
Trotteri in Mount Holly, near G. Owen's tavern. 


A Stable and Hay Honse^ with some Fencing 
and Manure. 
The above must be moved off the premises in a 
month from the purchase. There is a considerable 
quantity of rood timber in the stable. Inquire at the 
oflke of the K. Visiter. 



J'bre^jTi.— Accounts from Lisbon to the 11th of Juffc, 
mention that the combined British and Portuguese 
armies, and the French army were within 18 miles of 
each other— a general battle was expected: Provisions 
and flour very high, owing to the great consumption 
of the armies Massena, Junet, Ney. and Regnier, 
four of the most distinguished generaU in the French 
service, command in this quarter. Sir Arthur Wel- 
lesley commands the combined Portuguese and English 

Gustavus Adolphus, the deposed king of Sweden* 
has taken up his residence in Switzerland. 

The crown prince of Sweden died suddenly a few 
weeks past, supposed by poison. 

The American property seized by Bonaparte under 
his decree of the 23d March last, amounting to about 
twenty millions of dollars value, ships and cargoes, 's 
confiscated and selling off: The pretext for this seiz- 
ure was the act of the late congress, which pm-i i.^ts 
the entry of British and French ships into American 

The Emperour and Empress of France since their 
intermarriage, have been on a tour along Oic coast, en 
the British channel. They were to return to Paris on 
the 30th May. 

It was stated by Mr. Percival, in a late debate in 
the British house of commons, that the British orders 
had reduced the French customs or duties from eleven 
millions of dollars, to two millions two hundred thou- 

Votes have passed the British house ot commons, 

1. To make retrenchments in the financial depart- 

2. To abolish all tinecures, 

3. To reduce talaries in all cfiices executed byde- 
puty, to the sum paid to the deputy. 

The question on admitting the' cathol^cks to equal 
political privileges, had failed in the commons Qf 


A school is opened at Catskill, in the state of New- 
York, for teaching Botany. It consists in a single 
lecture given by the teacher every Saturday afternoon, 
at the school house, an useful and pleasing science 
might in this way be generally and cheapl> diffused. 

A newspaper under the title of the American Repub^ 
lick is established at Frankfort, in Kentucky. The 
editor. Humphrey Marshall, Esq. late a senator in the 
U. States. 

On the 1st July, the French privateer Lespinc 
brought to the Balize, below NewOrieans, the Spanish 
ship Atalanta, as a prize, with 170 slaves. The prize 
was going to N. Orleans in distress for provisions. 

At Pittsfield, Massachusetts, twelve Merino sheep 
were sheered. The aggregate amount of wool, 67/^. 

A letter of the 1st July, from the Mississippi Terri- 
tory, mentions that the people of Florida have deter- 
mined to declare Independence, and banished i^ 

To Subscriber* and Correificmkint. 

The Editor of the R. V. embraces the first opportu- 
nity of acknowledging his obligations to the liberal en- 
couragement of his friends and neighbours generally < 
The establishment has necessarily occasioned him im- 
mediate, and coMiderable expense; which he hopes 
their prompt remittance of one dollar each, vvill enable 
him to liquidate. 

To his correspondents addressed last week, his sen- 
sations are as they have been expressed. Some others, 
will please not to propose as original, compositions 
which, though they are handsome and not very com- 
mon, are evident quotations. 

Juventus and Fourteen, he would encourage to culti- 
vate those talents, which their acknowledged youth 
represent as « the marble in chc quarry.** 

It may not be impoper to inform our friends, that 
communications will be received, addressed to the 
Editors deposited at No. 75, Chesnut street, Philadel- 
phia; at the Post-Oifice, Mount-HoUy; and at his 
Book-store, Burlington.* Subscriptions aie also received 
at the aforesaid places. 


Published Weekltf^ by D. Allinaon^ 


Price two dollars a yeaf— one half payable k| AdfsacCt 
Hie ©thCTbn^ —*-•*'- "^ 

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** Homo sum ; humam mhil a me alienum futo.^'^Man and his cares to me a man^ are dear. 

\OL. I. 


No. 3- 

To the Editor of the Rural Visiter. 

The perusal of your address, in the first 
number of the Rural Visiier, jifForded n)c 
pleasure. It presents us with a plan of a 
weekly paper, which, if executed, must un- 
doubtedly contribute to the entcrtuiinnent of 
..your readers, and prove useful to society. 
The great number of newspapers and miscel- 
laneous publications, literary and political, 
circulated among us, conducted for the mo^t 
part by men of talents and literary acquire- 
ments, must place the editor of a new paper 
under many difficulties; and in a country 
where the news of the day, and events foreign 
and domestick are communicated to us thro' 
a muhitude of daily newspapers, and where 
so much is written and so much published to 
inttrest the politician and the scholar, the 
farmer and the mechamck, the editor of a 
weekly paper will be often at a loss for sub- 
jects to please and instruct his readers: but 
the novelty of the plan of the Rural Visiter 
excites our attention, and embracing a variety 
of subjects highly useful and familiar, pro- 
mises much entertainment wd instruction. 

The execution of this plan presents a diffi- 
cult task; it will require, and doubtless will 
receive, your utmost exertions. To give a 
detail of the news of the day, to publish events 
foreign and domestick, requires no mental 
exertion nor depth of research; and although 
it may be necessary to appropriate a portion 
of the Rural Visiter to the publication of newst 
yet under this head I should think much en- 
tertainment cannot be afforded to its readers: 
the daily newspapers published among us are 
sought for with avidity, and furnish the 
eariiest information of ever\' event worthy 
of publication. But it is the miscellaneous 
department of the Rural Visiter, which de- 
mands the utmost exertions of the editor, and 
invites the patronage of his readers. 

The discoveries in agriculture and the arts, 
ihe advances in literature and science, afford 
ample materials to fill the pages of a weekly 
paper; and upon these subjects the Rural 
Visiter may be made the vehicle of much 
useful and entertaining information: and 
among the many respectable subscribers to 
your weekly paper, gentlemen of talents, of 
learning and information, it is to be hoped 
there are many who will afford it their pa- 
tronage and support— who will supply its to- 
Iiunns with origmal productions, and contri- 
bute to the amusement and instruction of its 

lliere is perhaps no species of composition 
which contributes more to the entertainment 
of readers in general, than essays upon life 
and manners: it is a kind of reading which 

comes home to the bosom, and suits the ca- 
pacity of every one; it requires not the la- 
bour of study, and while it pleases, may af- 
ford many practical and useful lessons for the 
regulation of our conduct through -dlfe.— 
Could wc see the miscellaneous department 
ot the Rural Visiter stored with productions 
of this kind, they would doubtless be highly 
acceptable to your readers. 

To produce a pleasing and instructive es- 
say, requires genius and taste; but certainly, 
in the society wherein we live, ^there cannot 
be found wanting characters of this descrip- 
tion, whose minds are enriched by the acqui- 
sition of learning, trom whose pens composi- 
tion flows without an eftbrt, and who in a 
leisure hour might with facility produce an 
essay highly pleasing to your readers. 

If, tbi retore, the Rural Visiter should be- 
come destitute of patronage, and want that 
support necessary to assist and fulfil the laud- 
able designs of the editor, we must attribute 
its failure to indifference and want of exer- 
tion, in those who are endowed with every 
qualification necessary to give it excellence. 
But I hDpe for a more favourable result, and 
that those who have given their names to in- 
duce its publication, and who are fully quali- 
fied to promote its prosperity, will not suffer 
it to fall for want of patronage. 



No. Ill- 
Hail! silver Luna, *'mystick queen of night,'* 
Ascend the heavens and prolong the light; 
Let twinkling stars melt in thy borrowM ray, 
Whilst thou a light superiour canst display. 
Shed forth thy beams on all the nations round, 
And let not man in sable night be bound; 
For Sol has sunk below the western skies. 
And gloomy darkness rests upon our eyes. 
Haste Luna! haste, the humid shades dispel, 
Enough that man beyond thy power must 

In darkness, which alone our God can chase, 
And dissipate from this ungratefiil race- 
But, man^ despair not !~By our active zeal. 
To tread the path which God's own words 

We shall eternal bliss and light obtain; 
Our only solace ; but our weakest claim. 
May reason then, constrained by aid divine, 
Expand Our souls, and bid each virtue shine, 
Direct our footsteps with incessant care. 
And to suppress our swelling passions dare. 
May gratitude, to him who for us bled. 
And light upon our clouded minds hath shed. 
Inspire our hearts: And may our acuons 


That with devotion pure our bosoms glow. 
Thus, tho* in darkness on thb earth we're left, 
And of the sun's refulgent jays bereft, 
When dusky night her gloomy mande spreads 
O'er heaven and earth ; and from our giddy 

The moon withholds her faindy gleamingray, 
Not with one beam to wake the sleeping day. 
Thus, tho* from light we mortals are witheld; 
If these pure precepts in our breasts be held, 
That sweet abode, which now awaits us all, 
Shall to our lot, a blessed kindness! fall. 
When death, in all his pleasing garbs arrayed. 
Shall cull us hence, and bid our powers fade. 
Fade did I say? — Ah! what an errour this! 
Enough to rob our hearts of Hope's sweet 

They only fade, fresh vigour to regsun, 
To taste, with pleasure, ev'ry sweet remain 
Of cheering diought; and of immortal life 
The sweets, unmix'd with bitter draughts of 

That the celestial fire, which warms our soul. 
Shall not extinguished be at death's control. 
Kind nature's works, with one accord, pro- 
That objects dead shall rise to life again. 
In spring, the meads which winter's blasts 

laid bare 
Again shoot forth, again fresh foliage wear; 
The fruitful trees and flow'ry gardens too 
The same endure, and all spring forth anew. 
And shall our God benevolent and just 
To plants give life; but mingle man with dust^ 
To this assent man's feelings cannot yield; 
Since vice triumphant, wickedness wiU shield. 


Caspipind^s Letters. 

To the Right Honourable Lord Viscount ?■■ , 
at Oxford. 

In my last, I furnished your* Lordship 
with as particular an account as I have been 
able to obtain of the many astonishing im- 
provements, which a very few years have 
produced in this elegant and growing city. 
Common justice calls upon me to inform 
you, that some of the best institutions, that 
regard its internal police, are under the di* 
rection and management of the people called 
Quakers, whose general disapprobation of all 
fashionable amusements and diversions, gives 
them leisure and opportunity of embarking 
in and prosecuting such schemes as are 
useful as well as ornamental to humai^ 
society. This sober, virtuous people gent- 
rally engage with caution, but execute with 
the most persevering firmness and assiduity. 
The Hospital and Hoiue <if Empktfmtnt are 

Digitized by 




standing monuments of their l^joyrs j apd 
the period seems to be fast approachmg, 
when the cause of literature will receive no 
small services from their attention and zeal. 
A Philosophical Society for the encourage- 
ment of science, arts and manufactures, hath 
been lately instituted in this city, which 
numbers many of the most sensible of this 
denomiriatioD among its Fellows. My friend 
the merchant assures roe, that the thirst of 
knowledge increases much among them ; 
that they begin to discover the subserviency 
of human learning to many valuable pur- 
poses; and now think it no more a crime to 
send their children to school to learn Greek 
iind Latin, Mathematicks, and Natural Phi- 
losophy, than to put them to merchants or 
mechanicks, to be instructed in the several 
arts and mysteries, that are become neces- 
sary for the support of the present temporal 
life;.-..wisely judging, with respect to the 
spiritual life, which comes from, and is to be 
Kupported by another world, that humi.n 
learning has no do with it, and can 
no more awaken or promote it, than the art 
of making clocks and watches. If I remem- 
ber right. Baker, who has written so inge- 
niously upon the uses of learning, seems to 
put it upon the same footing; and our tutor 
at Magdaien-Hall has frequently told us, 
that all the acquirements of human know- 
ledge, though highly necessary for the im- 
provement and embellishment of civil soci- 
ety, can never impart to us one single ray of 
that which is truly divine^ 

I am no strange^ to your lordship's sen- 
timents upon this interesting subject. You 
well know when to pronounce the '* hitherto 
shalt thou go and no farther, ^^ As a citizen 
of heaven, and a traveller through this world, 
you^knowr what is necessary not only to make 
your journey pleasing and comfortable, and 
to furnish you with proper accommodations 
on the road, but to secure to yourself an 
happy reception among your fellow citizens, 
when your pilgrimage sliall be at an end. A 
liberal education, under the direction of an 
heaven-taught mind, has stood your lordship 
in good stead on many important occasions. 
It gives the christian scholar a free access 
into circles of conversation, where the illite- 
rate would never be admitted^ and furnishes 
hina, when he is there, with a becoming con- 
fidence and manly freedom of speech- It 
enables him to fight the infidel with his ov n 
weapons; and to avail himself of the w hoU 
magazine of ancient and modern learning in 
the defence of religion ; for the ver}' same 
armour that is weak and ineffectual in the 
hands of the unbeliever, becomes strong and 
of heavenly temper, when worn or wielded 
by the champion of gospel truth. 

Upon these principles, my lord, I csnnot 
but look upon it to be the duty of the real 
christian to patronise and encourage every 
well formed scheme for the advancement of 
liUiature; and I was particularly pleased to 
hear from my friend, who is himself a fellow 
of the Philoso| hical Society, that the Qua- 
kers had stepped forth, and joined the vota- 
ries of science; for their well-known indus- 
try and application cannot fail, in all human 
probability, of ensuring its success. 

What I have h«re said of ^ QuaMrs, ^ 
your lordship must not consider as tke kast 
disparagement or dimintition d the other re- 
ligious societies. ,The members of our com- 
munion, as weU as those of the Presbyterian 
and other dissenting denominations, have 
engaged warmly in cveiy scheme that has 
been proposed for the general good ; though 
they all candidl)'^ confess, that no institutions 
have been carried on with so much spirit, and 
crowned with so much success, as those in 
which the Quakers have had the lead and 
direction. Penn engrafted an excellent po- 
licy upon their religious principles; aixl Bar- 
clay has given these principles all the advan- 
tages, which can be derived from throwing 
them into the form of a system. These au- 
thors your lordship has carefully read; and 
I remember once to have heard you drop an 
intimation, that Barclay's book had never 
been answered in such a manner as to wea- 
ken the force of his arguments. 

I dined the other day with an eminent 
physician of this place, who professes himself 
a Presbyterian. There.was a mixed com- 
pany; and the conversation turned on reli- 
gious subjects. A clergyman of the esta- 
blished church, who appeared to be very in- 
firm and much advanced in years, undertook 
to reconcile the seeming differences tl;at pre- 
vailed among the professors of Christianity. 
He ver\' ingeniously distingiiished the things 
essential, from those which are not essential 
to salvation; and, with a truly benevolent 
christian spirit, declared, that as religion was 
a life, manifested by good tempers and dis- 
positions within, and correspondent actions 
and offices without; as it did not depend up- 
on any particular set of doctrines or opinions, 
much le^s upon any particular modes of wor- 
ship or outward church discipline, so he 
found his own heart intimately drawn to, and 
united with, good men of cveni^ denomina- 
tion. You, Sir, said he, (turning to the 
physician) are a Pn sb) terian. Thou art a 
Quaker; (addnssing himself to another of 
the compan) ) and I am a Churchman. — 
Suppose now, whilst we are disputing about 
religious principles, a servant should rush 
into the room, and eagerly inform us, that a 
neighbour's house was on fire, that the master 
of the family was abroad, that the poor wife 
\^ ith two or three little ones, was screaming 
out for help, and that all their goods must 
perish, if they coul not have immediate as- 
sistance. My Quaker friend there, and my- 
self, unmoved at the melancholy tidings, keep 
our seats and gravely coniinue the debate. 
My Presbyterian friend forgets all his zeal 
about opinions and doctrines, starts from thi 
table in an instant, and hastens to the scene 
of distress. Pray now, gentlemen, cc^ntini 
ed the venerable old man, which of us, ii: 
such a case would be the Christian J — 1, 
most assuredly, cried out the physician; an(' 
though I really find myself much attached to 
Calvin's system, yet I am sure, in the cast 
you mention, on any other similar one, nei 
ther Calvin's opinions, nor the opinions of an\ 
other man, could rouste my compassion and 
urge me to the benevolent jict. Nothing but 
a power superiour to all opinioa, which carries 
its own evidence and mo^ve along with it, 

and which* I trusty is *^ the Divinity that stin 
within me,^* could accompfi&h this: and if I 
should resifitlts powerful call, merely to in- 
dulge my own humour in an idle atni impro- 
fitable debate, what would it be but throwing 
away any proper and natural food, to live up- 
on the wind; nay, losing heaven for the sake 
of a syllogism. 

I think your Lordship, had j-ou been pre- 
sent, woulti have pronoimced this to be good 
divinity: and for the honour of the Philadel- 
phians, I do assure you that these sentimentb 
gtmerally prevail among them; and that there 
is less religious bigotry here,dian in any place 
I have yet visited. The only circumstance 
in which the Presbyterians seem to be less 
catholick than others, is their violent opposi- 
tion to the proposed establishment of a bishop 
or bishops in America: But, indeed, I can- 
not think they are so much to blame in this 
matter, as our church friends would insinu- 
ate; for, was I to settle in America, I should 
never say a word in favour of an established 
episcopate, till the powers of the intended 
bishop were accurately defined, and a satis- 
factory security given by act of parliament 
against any future encroachments. Could 
this be done, I think no reasonable Dissen- 
ters upon their own principles, would pro- 
mote any further opposition. 

The Quakers have three places of worship 
in this city, the English Presbyterians three, 
the Scotch Presbyterians two, the German 
Lutherans two, (one of which is ver}' large 
and elegant) the German Calvinists one, the 
Baptists one, the Roman Catholicks two, and 
the Methodists one. I have visited most of 
these places,' and have been introduced to 
many of the clergj', and find them generally 
moderate, quiet, and charitable. They arc 
all warmly attached to the British constitu- 
tion, and whilst their civil and religious li- 
berties are secured to them, will remain a- 
affectionate and obedient subjects, as any in 
his majesty's dominions. 

Our friend Charles engaged to furnish 
your lordship with all the materials he could 
collect, relative to the city and province oi 
New-York. I hope he is fulfilling his pro- 
mise. But I had a hint from a gentlennan. 
who lately saw him there, that he had been 
sadly taken in by a set of people, under the 
mask of religion.— —You know his honest 
heart has ever been too susceptible of impres- 
sions from you^ pretenders to extraordinaiy 
sanctity. However, I am sure, if their tenets 
or practices lead to any thing that is narroK 
or uncharitable, his liberal and generous turn 
of mind will soon shake off the deception. 

I send your lordship the first volume of 
the Transactions of tkle New Philosophical 
Society, which will afford no small entertain- 
ment to yourself and my other Oxford 
tricnds. I am much obliged to you for 
Gustavus Vasa, and the Farmer's Letters u^ 
ihe people of Ireland. I have a strong par 
liality for all the writings of that exceUem 
.uthor, and now want but one book to com 
|)lete my collection of his works. 
I am, my Lord, yout Lordship's 

Most sincere Frcnd and devoted Servant^ 

, Fhilmd. Sept. 4, 1771. 


Digitized by 




No. HI. 


The apple tree succecfds best in situatioDS 
which are neither high nor remarkably low. 
In the former its blossoms are frequently in- 
jured by cold winds', and in the latter by spring 
frosts, particularly when the trees are planted 
in the lowest parts of a confined valley. A 
«outh-east aspect is generally preferred, on 
account of the turbulence of the west and the 
coldness of the north winds: but orchards 
I succeed well inrall situations; and where the 
violence of the west wind is broken by an in- 
, tervening rise of ground, a south-west aspect 
; will be found equal to any- The trees attain 
their largest statue in a deep strong loam, 
but will grow well in all rich soils, which are 
neither excessively sandy or wet. An orchard 
is generally most productive of fruit, when it 
is situated near the fold yard, and is in con- 
. sequence much trodden and manured by the 
. cattle in the winter. — The ground on which 
, eld apple trees have grown is esteemed unfa- 
vourable for young ones. 


Mr. Knight recommends twelve yards by 
- six yards, for high and exposed situations, 
and in deep rich soils twenty-four by eight 
yards, is recommended as the proper dis- 
tance: he prefers this mode to squares of 
equal distances. 

Closely planted orchards, where the trees 
afford each other protection will ever be found 
most productive in a climate subject to great 
and sudden changes of temperature. 


The autumn is the most eligible season for 
transplanting orchards.. 

SIZE or THE ritviT. 

Small apples are best: they are not dange- 
rous in choking catde, and are less liable to 
be blown down by winds. The liquor of 
large apples, is almost always inferiour in qua- 
lit} to that from small ones. 


The thick covering of lifeless external bark 
shouLl in the winter be totally pared off, care 
bein;^ t.tken that the internal bark be not cut 



Having been absorbed from the adjacent 
; mould by the bark of the root, the sap ascends 
' wholly throttgh the alburnum » or sap-wood, 
of the root and trunk; and it is by this sub- 
stance, independent of the bark, carried in 
the spring to those buds which produce the 
' annual shoots of the succeeding summer. In 
the buds and annual shoots the sap is receiv- 
ed by another species of vessel, and is impell- 
ed forward b\' a new agent into the leaves : 
in the leaves it is exposed to the air and light, 
and some portion of the water it contains 
is decomposed. New combinations here 
probably take place^ into which the matter 
of li^rht and heat, if the latter be material, 
may possibly enter. From the leaf the sap 
is returned through another set of vessels in- 
to the inner bark, and in its passage down- 
u wards, deposits the new matter which annually 
1 forms the increase and extension of the bran- 
cheSf the trunks and the'roofc.- 

T/ic tvHn Brothers of Mezzoranuu 


Amidst the extensive wilds of Africa lies 
a territory, the inhabitants whereof are as 
numerous and even as civilized as the Chi- 
nese. They are called the Mezzoranians. 

Two twin brothers of this country, were 
both enamoured of a young lady, who equal- 
ly favoured them both. The two lovers and 
the fair one chanced to meet together at the 
festival instituted in honour of the sun. This 
festival was solemnized twice in the year, 
because, as the' kingdom Liy between the 
two tropicks, it had two springs and two 
summers. At the commencement of every 
spring season, this adoration was paid to the 
great luminary throughout all the nomes or 
districts of the land. It was celebrated in 
the open air, to denote that the sun was the 
immediate cause of all the productions of 
nature. They made an offering to it of five 
small pyramids of frankincense in golden 
dishes. Five youths and an equal number 
of virgins are named by the magistrate to 
place them on the altar, where they remain 
till the fire has consumed them. Each of 
these young persons is dressed in the colour 
of their nome, and wears a diadem on their 

One of the two brothers, with the damsel 
of whom we arc speaking, composed the first 
couple who were to place the incense on the 
altar. This done, they saluted one another. 
It was customary for them now to change 
their places, the youth going over to the side 
of the virgin, and she coming to his. When 
the five pair have done in this manner, then 
f^ow all the standers by in the same order, 
by which means they have an opportunity of 
seeing each other completely. 

It is here that commonly such as have not 
hitherto made their choice, aetennine upon 
one; and as it depends sokly on the deier- 
mination of the damsel, the yoang Man takes 
all imaginary pains to win the love of her 
whom he has selected from the rest. For 
avoiding every species of misunderstanding 
and jealousy, the maiden, when the yo\u>g 
man pleases her, takes from him a flower not 
yet fully blown, which he offers to her accept- 
ance, and sticks it in her bosom. But, il 
she has already entered into some engage- 
ment, she gives hi»n to understand as much, 
by showing him a flower; and, if this be only 
a bud, then it is a sign that he w ill make her 
the first proposal ; if it be half blown, it im- 
plies that her love has already made some 
progress; but if it be fully blown, the virgin 
thereby betokens that her choice is made, 
and that she cannot now retract it. So long, 
however, as she does notpublickly wear this 
token, it is always free for her to do as she 

If she be free^ and the mad that offers her 
the flower is not agi eeable to her, she makes 
him a profound reverence, z\u\ shuts her 
eyes till he has retired. Indeed, at times it 
happens here, as well as in other places, 
though but rarely, that she disguises herself 
to her lover. If a man l>e already contracted, 
he like wise boars a token. Such maidens as 
have y«l met widi Bf^iorer^have it m. their 

choice either to I'emain virgins, or to inscribe 
themselves among the widows, which if they 
do, they can only be married to a widower* 
But let us return to our twin*brothers. 

The brother who stood at the altar with 
the young damsel, felt as violent a passion 
for her as she did for him : they were so 
intent upon the ceremony, that they forgot to 
give each other the accustomed signs. On 
her leaving the altar, the other brother saw 
her, became enamoured of her, and found 
opportunity', when the cerenjony was over, 
for presenting her with a flower. She accept- 
ed it at his hands, as being fully persuaded 
that it was the person who had just before 
been with her at the altar: but, as she took 
herself away in some haste wiih her com- 
panions, she imperceptibly dropped the token 
she had received. The elder brother accost- 
ed her once more, and offered her a flower. 
Ah, said she to herself, in an amiable confu- 
sion, it is the very same! and took it likewise. 
The young man, who heard this, imagined 
for certain that it meant him: but as the law 
allowed them to remain no longer together, 
they departed their several ways. 

He that at first presented the flower found 
an opportunity, some days afterwards, of see- 
ing his charmer by night at a lattice. This 
sort of conversation, though stricdy prohi 
bited by the laws, was still connived at. TYyt 
damsel appeared so kind, that he ventured 
to ofller her the token of a half blown flower: 
this she accepted, and in return presented 
him with a scarf embroidered with hearts 
interwoven with thorns, giving him to un- 
derstand tliereby, that tliere were still some 
obstacles to be surmounted: she allowed him 
at the same time to declare himself her lover, 
without, however, giving him her name, and 
without even acquainting him with the rea- 
son of her Silence on tliat head. 
(To he Continue, J 

People do not always know what taste they 
ha\e, liji it is awaken^-d by some correspond- 
ing oLJect; nav, genius itself is a fire, which 
in many minds would never blaze, if not kin- 
dh d by some external cause. 

fFrom the ** Leiture How ImpfQ9ed.**J 

SVV£ET is the scene when Virtue dies. 
When sinks a righteous soul to rest; 

How milcHy beam the dosing eyes, 
How gently heaves th' expiring breast! 

So fades a summer cloud away; 

So sinks the gale, when storms are o'e^ 
So gently shuts the eye of day; 

So dies the wave adong the shore. 

Triumphant, smiles the victor's brow* 
Fann*d by some angePs purple wingp 

O Grave! where is thy victVy now? 
Invidious death! where is thy stingf 

A holy quiet reigns around; 

A calm which nothing can destrojt; 
Nought can disturb that peace profouad* 

Which their unfettered souls eitjoy. 

FareweU conflicting hopes and tears. 

Where lights ahd shades alternate dwellf 

How bright the unchanging mom appears! 
Farewell, inconstant world! farewdl! 

Its duty done, as sinks his day. 
Light, from its load, the sp'urit flies; 

While heaven and earth, combine to %tj 
*' Sweet b the tceiie when Virtus 4in.'' 

Digitized by 





Tfoe following exquitifefy beauiifui Lines art tren^rihefi 
from aperioJicat wirk, the aan^tion qfvf&oie a^honty 
i4 cfitiei/a eufficicru reeomniendatioti. 

What falls so «weet on i mnmcr*6 flavrcr5 
As soft, refreshing tepid showers? 
What bids the bud its sweets exhale, 
Like evening's mildly whispering gale? 
\ ei sweeter, more ddicinns far, 
And brighter than the brightest star 
Decking the intellectual spher e » 
Is Pity*8 meek and balmy tear! 

What bids despair her arrows liide? 
What checks affliction's torturing tide? 
What heals the wound of mental pain. 
And sooths thcfevVish throbbing brain, 
And bids the rending soul subside? 
Lulling to rest distrust and fea r -«. ■ ■ 
Soft Pity's kind and holy tear! 

Yet not that Pity form'd to give 
A pang which bids affliction live; 
Not pity that can taunting shew 
Superiour pride untouched by woe; 
Not pity that with haughty smile 
Consoles— and murders all the while; 
But pity which is form*d to prove 
The bond of faith— the test of love! 


[cON-rXNUED FaOM ^ACE 8 ] 

Montalvia's children are a racedevout. 
And sacred domes they rear to many a godi 
In Ombecilla, their imperial seat. 
Their god of gods is great Oasis. He 
Liv«s in bright palaces above the skicsj 
His eye looks farther than his suti's beam ^oes; 
Kis voice is thunder; and his nod shakes worlds. 
The morning is his smile, the storm his wrath; 
He knows the ways of men; approves the good, 
But looks indignant on the bad; and when 
The good man dies he wafrs him to his halls. 
Where shines a blissful day that never sets: 
But when he sweeps the bad man from the earth, 
He thniscs the struggling ghost, through gaping rift. 
Far into earth's vast womb, where darkness dwells. 
With other guilty souls, an endless doom. 

Oasb and his vassal gods befriend 
The good: but there arc gods malign, his foes, 
And foes of all good men, and foes of joy. 
Evil is their good, and groans their musick sweet; 
Death is their sport, and blood their banquet best; 
They Wow man's frantick passions into rage, 
.And goad his footsteps on to midnight deeds; 
They loose the hell-hounds of unending strife. 
And rain on earth diseases, plagues, and death. 

Frequent on altars are the victims laid. 
As oflferings to the gods. Those who are kind, 
Benevolent, and just, and friends of men. 
Are honoured with the sacrifice of Iambs. 
From these their votaries seek the smile of peace. 
The fruitful field, the sky without a storm, 
The richest blessings of indulgent heaven. 
To stern malignant deities are slain 
The beasi^ congenial to their savage mind : 
The bull, the tyger, wild boar of the wood; 
And oft the warriour youth, the blooming masd. 
Are offered to appease their deadly rage. 

O'er wide Montalvia Oriander reigns. 
Raised by the people's voice to kingly state. 
Of stature huge he is. of temper fierce, 
But brave, and skilled to rule o'er restless men. 
His hue is swarthy: his deep-seaied eyes 
Throw glances on his foes that check their steps. 
And shoot a dizzy terrotir' through their brain. 
Alike terrifick are his step and mien: 
He moves as he -weW knew his high desert. 
Am one bom to subdue. When wronged, his wrath 
Is like the ocean, when in rage he heaves 
Most high his billows of destruction; yet 
Not tearless nor unmoved by woe is he. 
And generous deeds are not unknown to him 
He loves his race; and threescore years have rolled 
Since he has ruled them wisely in his love. 
Fought aU their battles, and engrossed their dangen. 

Oft, in their •ongi, the poets of the land 
Teach youthful ears and credidous, that their king 
Has spntn;^ from gods, and is to gods allied 
In wisdom and in strength, and ne'er to die. 
The king assents, and his best gifts enrich 
The tuneful auihors of his deity. 

Gondalbo is the monarch's only son, 
A Bon^ alas! unworthy of his sire. 
No generous passions warm his sullen soul. 
But full of gUile and cruelty is he; # 

In war the first, but last in arts of peace; 
His dark eye rolls in wiles; his scowling glance 
Gives presage of the unquiet soul within; 
Strong and beast-like his lusts, that, when provoked. 
Will tread their perilous paths neck-deep in blood. 
Oft does the father with a stem rebuke 
Chastise the son; but still his stubborn will 
Breaks through restraint; his overbearing pride 
Scorns the keen lash, and throws the rein aside. 
Vet of Gondalbo highly deem the sons 
Of war/and wild adventure's restless bands: - 
A numerous host of such, with ill intent. 
He wins, and binds ihem to some desperate cause. 
(To be Continued.) 


Foreign,-— Mr. Jarvis, the American consul at Lisbon, 
in a letter dated June 17ih, »810, mentions the exist- 
ence of a greater scarcity of grain than at any other 
period since he has been there; flour wais at sixteen and 
a half dollars a barrel, the purchaser also paying the du- 
ty, and but poor prosjjecis from the approaching harvest. 
— A Portugaese brig, arrived at New-York from St. 
Michaels, brings information that a small village called 
Cozas 21 miles from St. Michaels, was on the 24th 
June last sunk by an earthquake, aud many families 
swiljowed op; the place where the village stood was 
covered with warcr, which was agitated as if boiling. 
—Holland is said to be in a state of fermentation, in 
consequence of king Louis having abdicated his throne, 
and a probability that the country would be incorporated 
vvirh France — The British parliament was prorogued 
the 2lsi June 

Doniettick. — Last accounts firom Norfolk express an 
ap{>rehension of several British armed vessels attempt- 
ing to enter the Chesapeake Bay. — A Benevolent So- 
ciety has been lattly established at Washington- Hall, 
in Froviiience, Rhode-Islaiui, and a commhtee appoint- 
ed to form a constitution.— A patent hat lately been 
obtained by Mr John Redman, for making Brick of 
the simple material of Lime mixed with common sand, 
and dried in the sun: this discovery, if found to answer 
the inventor's description, will lessen the expense of 
materials in the walls of houses more than two-thirds: 
an experiment Is now making with them at Cooper's 
Ferry. A specimen may be seen at this office.— Mohs. 
Le Kay, Leraysville, N. Y and formerly of thiscity, ad- 
vertises for hands to reap and gathcrdOO acres of wheat. 

Obituary.— Died at Novogorod in Russia, Miss 
Praskowga Lupoiow: this young lady's filial tender* 
ness furnished the beautiful story of Elizabeth, or the 
Exiles of Siberia. — At Boston, on the 14th March last. 
Dr. James Lloyd, aged 83 years.— In Springfield, N.J. 
on the 4th inst. Daniel Zelley, in his 57th year.— At 
Trenton, the 7th inst. Nathan Kockhill, a native of this 
county, and many years an inhabitant of this city. 


' By virtue of a Writ ol Venditioni Exponas to me 
directed, will be exposed tusale.atpubhck vendue, on 
Saturday, the sixth da) of October next, between the 
hours of twelve and five o^clock in the afternoon of 
said day, at the house of Joseph Hatkinson, iiin<4eeper 
in Mount-Holy; all that certain tract or piece of land 
containing about 80 acres, situate in the township of 
Northampton, and now in the tenure and occupation 
of Joseph Mc Intash. 

Seized as the property of the said Joseph Mc Intash, 
aiui taken In execution at the suit of Apollo Cooke, 
aund to be sold by 

Wm. BORDEN, Late Sheriff. 

July 28th, 18kO. 

Particulaily School Books, for sale by Thomas C. 
Trotter, in MoiBt Holly, aesor G. Owcn'a uvern. 

To be SclJ^ at Private Sak^ 

A valuable grazing farriA, situate in the township of 
Downe, county of Cumberland, New-Jersey, contain- 
ing about 600 acres; 210 of which are banked meadow, 
a considerable proportion of the first quality, equal 
or superiour to any in the state for raising grain or 
grass, and the residue may be made so at a small ex- 
pense; the remainder of the farm consists of 1 00 acres 
of woodland, and 111 acres of arable land, all in a bo- 
dy adjoining to the banked meadow; 100 acres of salt 
marsh, and 71 acres of cedar swamp, in sight, and but 
a short distance from, the plantation. The arable land 
is of an excellent soil, in good heart, and is convenient- 
Jy divided with good cedar rail fences. There are on 
the premises two orchards of excellent fruit, a good 
garden, a commodious two story frame dwelling-house, 
large bam, wind mill and miller^s house, (the two last 
are quite out of repair) together with a number of 
other conveniei:ces. 

The plantation, besides supporting a stock of 200 
head of cattle, will yield an annual surplus of at least 
50 tons of ha> for sale. A dairy, to a very considera- 
ble extent, may be carried on; and the situation is 
such, that an advantageous market for the whole pro- 
duce of the farm will be always found on the spot. A 
ferry has been heretofore kept at the place for many 
years, it being the most direct route from the lower 
counties to Ca|>e-May — having a strait ro2ul leading 
from the ferr>' directly through the farm to the town 
of Dividing Creeks, distant 4 1-4 milei> at which 
place there is a post-office established. On the oppo- 
si'e side of the river \x is conteoiplated having a road 
laid out to the town of Leesburg, disiant about 1 1-2 
miles, from which place a direct road is opened to 
Cape-May, which will complete the communication 
through the county on the most direct and eligible 
route, thereby avoiding all those heavy sands which to 
much retard and fatigue the traveller in his preberK 
route by Millviile and Port -Elizabeth. There is also a 
landingestabhshed near the ferry, where lumber is sent 
oft^ in considerable quantities to market, and if encour- 
agement was given \try large quantities could be ob- 

This estate is pleasantly and advantageously situa- 
ted at the junction of Maurice river with the Dela- 
ware, and commands an extensive view of the bay.— 
Terrapins, clams and oysters may be had in abutulance, 
within a short distance; and fishing and fowling t)f 
various kinds in their seasons. Considered in every 
point of view, this farm has not its equal in the coun- 
ty of Cumberland, perhaps in West-Jersey, and is so 
situated as to be conveniently divided into two farms. 
The whole of this property will be sold together, or 
separately, as may best suit the purchaser. The pay- 
ments wUl be made easy, possession given the 25th of 
March next, and an indisputable title made for the 

It is intended, if the above property is not sold before 
the 25th day of March next, to lease out the same, for 
a term of years, on an improving lease; or yeariy for 
a certain rent. Any person wishing to undertake the 
same, or a part thereof, may depend upon having it on 
a generous lay, either the whole or in part, as it is ex- 
pected it wUl be divided into two farms, for the bet- 
ter accommodating those who wish to lease the same. 

Woodbury, J one 30, 1810. 


Informs his friends and the publick generally, that he 
has removed his Store the west side of High Street, 
a few doors above James Sterling, where he keeps a 
general assortment of 


suitable fot the seasons, on liberal terms for cash o' 
country produce. Having also undertaken an agency 
for Almy & Brown, he has on hand from their Manu- 
factory in Rhode Island, Knitting, Sewing, and Weav- 
ing Cotton Yam, blue and white do. for Warp and 
Filling, Bedticking, Stripes, Checks, Sheetings, Shirt- 
ings, &c &c. &c. 

8th Mo. 6th. ^ wtf 

Published Weekly^ by i). JJiinsonj 


Price two dollars a year— one half payable in ^^TMCt* 
(k^ other in six months. 

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*♦ Homo 9Utn ; humam nihil a me alienum futoJ^-^Jklan and his cares to me a man^ are dear. 

VOL. I. 


No. 4. 

No. IV. 

Vixlrc fortes ante Agamcmiiona 
Multi: sed omnes illacryniabiles 
Urgentur, ignorique lon^& 
Nocte, carent quia vate sacro. 


The human mind is so constructed, that 
the relation of facts, though improbable, and 
entirely unconnected with ourselves, acquires 
some interest* Reasoning and intricate de- 
ductions may sometimes cnj^ross attention; 
but few can fully comprehend them, and a 
still smaller number derive much gratification 
from any thing of this nature. $omething 
therefore which will inform our minds — 
something which will interest our feelings — 
something connected with man in the various 
relations of life, will ever be sought after by 
those who draw a considerable portion of 
their enjoyments from books. It was h*om 
this taste being general among mankind, 
that first gave rise to Romances and Novels; 
works which have become very numerous, 
and compose a large proportion of almost 
every publick hbrary. But as few advantages, 
and many evils are produced by these idle 
effusions of a wandering and trifling fancy, I 
: shall in the present paper endeavour to point 
out to the attention of those of my readers 
who are pleased with Novels, a species ol 
reading in which they will find more to 
amuse their fancies, to improve their hearts, 
and instruct their minds. I am conscious 
that any attempt to prevent the reading of 
Novels either by force of reasoning, or the 
Tjowers of satire, will not be generally suc- 
cessfuL But still I may hope to lead some 
few to attempt a species of reading, which 
they need only once taste to become enam- 
oured with* 

Biography is the most generally admired 
kind of composition; it unites in itself so 
many advantages, that I consider it as the 
most useful study which people of either sex, 
and of any age can pursue. We delight to 
trace the man whom we admire, to his study 
and his family ; where, divested of all those 
circumstances which may induce him to con- 
ceal his resd character, we become intimately 
acquainted with him; to follow the statesman 
from the scenes of publick life, and view him 
in his private relations, to pursue the deve- 
lopment of character from the germs of 
youth to the full blossom of manhood, to 
learn how his i^ind became biassed towards 
bis particular pursuit, and by what means he 
acquired his knowledge and attained to emi- 
nence* Let us compare Biogrsq^hy with 
Novel reading in those particulars, for which 
the latter b reconuaended^ and on wbkh 

those who advocate it principally rest their 
defence. Novels and Romances have been 
considered as displaying human lite and hu- 
man manners in sdl their varieties, and there- 
fore it has been asserted that a knowledge of 
human nature and of the world may be de- 
rived from them. In some Novels such as 
Tom Jones, Perigrine Pickle, Roderick 
Random, I grant that human character is dis- 
played, and that the pictures there presented 
are drawn from real life. But who would 
dare, recommend^such wprks as the above to 
young persons of either sex ? They are 
vicious in the principles they inculcate; they 
display vice in such fascinating appearances, 
and paint its "pleasures in such glowing 
colours, as to render them entirely imfit for 
the young! And with the exception of these, 
and others which deserve similar animad- 
versions, I know of few Novels which con- 
tain any thing like human life; they are ge- 

Velntaegri somnia, vanae 

Fingenter species; m «ec pes» nee caput sm 
Reddatur forms. Hob. 

..... Like a sick inan*8 dreams» 
Varies all shapes, and mixes all cKtremet, 


they present characters, which never did and 
never can exist* I admire as much as any rea- 
sonable person can the productions of Miss 
Bumey; but I must say that she gives views 
of life, some of which are really absurd and 
unnatural* But still I would recommend her 
Novels to every young woman; but I know 
not, expect the Vicar of Wakefield, another 
work of the kind which I consider as capsule 
of affording much improvement* Let us 
however admit that the writer wishes to 
paint characters as they actually are ; still 
Biography will give us a far more satisfac- 
tory account of human nature* The one is 
drawn from the imagination, the other is an 
Actual picture* The one represents things and 
persons as they might have been, the other as 
they really were* They who wish to acquire 
a knowledge of mankind, should look for it 
in the lives of persons who really existed; if 
it is not to be detained there, where can they 
rationally hope to learn it? To searth for it 
in Novels, is as ridiculous as it would be to 
attempt to perceive by the light of a taper, 
what can with difficulty be seen by means of 
the sun* The truth, is all the arguments in 
favour of romances are founded on facts 
which have no existence* Persons look to 
them for amusement, and they there find it* 
Many are so-fond of the marvellous^ that a 
simple narrative of matter of fact will not 
satisfy them* But in what work of imagina* 
tion can any thing more wonderful, more 
astoni^ng, more above bunum expectadon 

be found, than in some of those events recor* 
ded in history* Let persons whose taste 
leads them this way, peruse the Lives of 
Pluurch, particularly those of Alexander,' 
Caesar, Epaminondas, and others, and their 
wishes for the wonderful will be satisfied; 
let those who are pleased with the effects oi 
love, and admire a hero, when animated by 
this passion, read the Memoirs of Sully; let 
those whom the vicissitudes of fortune de*' 
light, who love those unexpected changes 
which Novels sometimes present, look into 
the life of Charles the twelfth of Sweden, of 
Catharine of Russia, of Mary Queenof Scots; 
those who can feel an interest in nothing but 
adventures, will be gratified in the life of 
Peter of Russia, and with all the advantage 
of being convinced of the truth of what they 
read* Biography, though no great mental 
exertion and labour be employed, will be 
found to produce great effects* The judg- 
ment will be strengthened; true and useful 
information be acquired, and the virtuous 
inclinations of the heart be cherished and 
strengthened* To mark the minute lines 
and shades which distinguish characters, will 
exercise the intellectual powers, and by exer- 
cise alone can they be improved* 

History is, as Dionysius Halicamassus 
says, " Philosophy teaching by example ;" 
this character may with greater propriety be 
bestowed on Biography* History teaches us 
the rise and progress of nations, the sUte of 
manners and of civilization; informs us of the 
springs which govern publick men & produce 
publick measures; it enables us to learn what 
causes tend to the elevation and aggrandize- 
ment of a nation, and what either direcdy 
or remotely accelerate their downfsdl. Poli- 
ticians learn how best to guide the helm of 
state ; philosojphers become acquainted witli 
the varieties of human character, and acquire 
an insight into the heart of man ; lawyers 
from history learn the origin and spirit o£ 
laws, and the objects and effects of particular 
acts of legislation; and every man feels his 
mind strengthened and his understanding 
enlarged by an acquaintance with it* Bu( 
Biography presents itself under more enti- 
cing appearances, in more attractive colours 
than History. Here it is that we view ntaa as 
he really is; not in publick life, surrounded by 
watchful enemies who examine with scrutiny 
his every action, obliging him sometimes to 
acts of dissimulation; we have him unbo- 
somed to our view; we become acquainted 
with his inmost soul* In private life, and 
surrounded by friends, there exist no motives 
for conceahnent; there it is that the intrica- 
cies of his character are displayed* 

As affording rules of condua, Biographjr 
merits aU ow atte a t iQa ; phitooyhy m^ff 

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inform us of our particular and relative du- 
ties in the various situations in which we may 
be placed; but her precepts seldom reach the 
heart, when uttered in the cold language of 
reason andlogical argument. Example ope- 
rates more powerfully, her lessons are indi- 
rect, they leave our own judgments and un- 
derstandings to draw the inference, and from 
particular facts to deduce general conclu- 
sions. Biography presents men in those situ- 
ations in which all may be placed, surround- 
ed by difficulties to which we are all subject; 
from the lessons she presents, the most use- 
ful maxims by which to regulate our conduct 
in the common occurrences of life, may there- 
fore be drawn. 

Its effect upon the heart should not be 
passed by altogether unnoticed. The human 
mind feels a natural affection and love for 
virtue under every shape, an instinctive ab- 
horrence for vice in every form. This ad- 
miration of virtue and antipathy to vice, alone 
preserves mankind from an entire derelic- 
tion of every praiseworthy principle. They 
may be improved by exercise, and strength- 
ened by being excited. In Biography, if any- 
where, opportunities are offered. Every dif- 
ferent character affords insunces of particu- 
lar virtues, and particular blemishes; they 
will serve as beacons to warn us of danger, 
or as examples to animate to imitation. 

As a means of relaxation from the fatigues 
of study to those who are engaged !)y the 
duties of a profession, or the difficulties of 
abstruse science, it deserves regard. The 
intellectual powers of man in his present 
state^ have been found too weak and too 
limited for continued and laborious exercise, 
rJiey who are pursuing the liigher studies 
require some relief, their minds wotild 
otherwise become enfeebled, and incapable 
of action; amusement is necessary to miti- 
gate the asperities of study, to qualify the 
mind wearied with exertion again to under- 
go labour. They who are accustomed to 
study, know full well the advantages of some 
relaxation which will relieve the mind with- 
out weakening it; which will at the same time 
exercise the mental powers, and afford amuse- 
ment. Novels and other light reading pro- 
duce not this effect; the weariness is remov- 
ed, but we are made more liable to fatigue; 
they enervate the mind and disqualify it for 
future exertion. In Biography, however, 
our imaginations are charmed, our intellec- 
tual faculties expanded, our judgment ma- 
tured, and our sphere of useful knowledge 
enlarged; the mind is relieved from fatigue, 
and prepared to again encounter it. 


In Silliman's Travels, just published, there 
is an account of a wonderful phenomenon, 
called Logan Bock, near Penzance, in Corn- 
wall. It is from admeasurement estimated 
at three hundred and twenty tons weight; 
but is so poised on the verge of a precipice 
on a base not larger than a man's hat, that a 
single mjRi may move it backwards and for- 
wards like a cradle. Formerly, he says, it 
could be moved with a single hand, now it 
r^auires a shoulder.— ilpri /f/io. 

The twin Brothers of Mezzoraniiu 


[continued. FROM PAGE 11.] 

Not long afterwards the elder brother met 
her at the verj' same window^ but tTie night 
was so dark, that he could not distinguish the 
second flower which she wore in her bosom. 
The extreme satisfaction she discovered ai 
his coming, seemed to him indeed somewhat 
extraordinary; but he ascribed it to a sympa- 
thy which, between lovers, banishes all re- 
straint. He began to excuse himself tor not 
havipg' seen her so long, and assured her, 
that if he could have his will, no night should 
pass but he would come to assure her of th< 
ardour of his inclination: she admired the 
vehemence of his passion. The lover receiv- 
ed such clear indications of her fevourable 
disposition towards him, that he thought he 
might easily wave the ceremony of the second 
token, and accordingly gave her the third, a 
nearly full-blown flower: she accepted it of 
him, telling him, however, that she would 
not immediately wear it; that he must first 
go through certain forms, and that she must 
still see some more proofs of the fidelity of 
his attachment; at tne same time, to assure 
him of the sincerity of her love, she gave him 
her hand through the lattice, which he kissed 
in the greatest transports. Upon this she 
made him a present of a fillet, on which were 
wrought two hearts in her own hair, over 
which was a wreath of pomegranates, seem- 
ingly almost ripe; a joyful token, which gave 
him to understand that the time of gathering 
was at hand. 

Thus all three were happy in their errour. 
On all publick occasions the two brothers ap- 
peared with the signs of their inclinations, 
and felicitated each other on their success: 
but, as mysteriousness was not destitute of 
charms for. them, they cautiously avoided 
everv opportunity of explaining; themselves 
to each other. The return of the grand fes- 
tival was now at no great distance, when the 
youngest brother thought it the proper occa- 
sion for venturing to give his beloved the 
third token of his affection. He told her, 
that he hoped she would now willingly wear 
the full-blown flower as a testimony of her 
consent; at the same time presentingher with 
an artificial carnation, interspersed with litUe 
flames and hearts. She stuck the carnation 
in her bosom, unable to conceal her joy as she 
received it; at which her lover was so trans- 

Eorted, that he determined to demand her of 
cr parents. 
His elder brother, who had given her the 
full-blown flower at the same time, thought 
that nothing more was wanting to his happi- 
ness than the approbation and consent of her 
relations. Chance brought them both on the 
very same day to the parents of their beloved. 
But how great was their astonishment on 
their meeting each other! As soon as the 
father appeared, each addressed him for his 
daughter. He assured them that he had but 
one child, of whose virtue he was fully con- 
vinced; that she never, m opposition to the 
laws of the land, could favour two lovers at 
once* He, however, concluded, from the 
perfect likeness that subsisted between the 

two brothers, that some mistake had hap- 
pened, and sent for his daiighter to clear up 
the matter. She immediately appeared, de- 
corated with the four flowers she had receiv- 
ed, in the complete conviction, that the two 
full-blown had been presented her by one and 
the same hand. 

Venus herself, attended by the graces, 
could not have shone more lovely than Be- 
rilla — for thus was the damsel called. Her 
fonn was noble and majestick; and her com- 
plexion surpassed the blooming rose. No 
sooner did she perceive the great resem- 
blance between her lovers, and the tokens 
they wore of her inclination, than she ex- 
claimed, "I am deceived! Thou knowest 
ly innocence, O almighty Sun!" She was 
unable to utter more, but fell motionless on 
the earth. Her beautiful cheeks were cover- 
ed with the veil of death. The father, fran- 
tick with agonv, held her in his arms, and 
pressed her to his heart. Mv dear, my only 
(.aughter, live or I must die with thee; I 
know that thou art innocent. Her mother 
and the servants came to her relief, and with 
much difficulty restored her to herself. 

She lifted up her eyes, raised a deep sigh, 
closed them again, and said : ** Unhappj 
Berilla, thou art now dishonoured! Thou 
wast the comfort of thy parents, who loved 
thee in their hearts; and, as the reward of 
their tenderness, thou art become the caus.; 
of their distress!" On uttering these words. 
she burst into a flood of tears. Her father, 
himself oppressed with sorrow, strove to calra 
her tortured mind by every endearing ex- 
pression, and by giving her repeated assur- 
ances that he M'as convinced of her inno- 
cence. " O my father (said she) am I still 
worthy of thee?*' " That thou art (he re- 
plied) thy sorrow indicates, which at once i? 
thy justification, and the triumph of thy sen- 
sibility. Compose thy spirit (added he with 
sighs) I know thy innocence.'* The two 
brothers stood speechless at this mournful 
scene ; they alternately cast on each other 
looks of distrust, of anger, and then of com- 

In the mean time the amiable maiden com- 
pletely revived ; at least so far as to be able 
to reply to some questions that were put to 
her. She declared that the first, who led her 
to the altar, was the person that made an im- 
pression on her heart; that she, presendy af- 
ter, as she believed, accepted from him the 
first token of his inclination, and at length 
consented to become his; that thereupon she 
wore the full-blown flower: but she was to- 
tally Ignorant which of the two brothers it 
was by whom it was given her. She con- 
cluded by saying, that she was ready to abide 
by the judgment of the elders, and to submit 
to any. punishment they shoidd think fit to 

{To be eoneiuded in our next^J 

A child of six years of age, being intro- 
duced into company for his extraordinary^ 
abilities, was asked by an eminent dignified 
clergyman — " Where God was:*' with the 
profft-red reward of an orange.—** Tell me 
(replied the boy) where he is not. and I iviU 
give you two.** 

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Descri/rtion of the wail which separates China 
from Tartartf. 

The wall which separates China fromTar- 
tary, is the most stupendous work ever pro- 
duced by man; in the vicinity are canton- 
ments for an army of considerable magnitude; 
^t the extremity of which is a massy gate- 
way of stone, defended by three iron doors, 
which guarded the pass between countries 
formerly distinct. This wall, the pride of 
human labour, is supposed to be upwards of 
1200 miles in length. Its height varies ac- 
cording to the surface. Where one of us 
contrived to get to the top. It was 30 feet 
high, and about 24,broad. The foundation 
is laid on large square stones: the super- 
structure is brick; the centre is a kind of 
mortar, covered with flag stone. A parapet 
of no ordinary strength runs on each side of 
an embattled walL 

If we consider that this immense fabrick 
crosses the widest rivers, on arches of pro- 
portionate size, or in the said form connects 
mountains together, occasionally ascending 
the highest hills or descending the deepest 
vales, the most active powers of imagination 
will be required to realize this eflPoit of man. 
In every situation, however, the passage 
along it is easy and uninterrupted; and it 
serves as a military way from one extremity 
of the empire to the other. At proper inter- 
vals there are strong towers placed, whence 
signals are repeated, and any alarm may be 
communicated to the most distant parts by 
the Telegraph. 

But man and all his works are doomed to 
decay. Time has already laid its wasting 
hands on this celebrated monument of labour: 
and as it is now no longer necessary for se- 
curity or defence, since the nations on both 
aides acknowledge one sovereign, it is more 
than probable that future travellers, in some 
remote age (for it will exist for ages still) 
may describe its ruins, and pause while they 
contemplate the instability of sublunary gran- 
deur. Indeed, in some places fragments 
have already tumbled down, and others me- 
nace the plains they once defended. 

From the best accounts we could receive 
this wall has been built full 2000 years, nor 
can its traces be removed but with the con- 
summation of all things. 

About seven miles from the great wall 
there is a mountain, which exhibits an addi- 
tional proof of the indefatigable labours of 
the Chinese in works of publick utilit}'. A 
road 30 feet wide is cut through the solid 
rock; and to lessen the declivity, it is sunk 
no less than an hundred feet from the sum- 
mit of th^ mountain. Yet still the ascent has 
a tremendous appearance ; and without this 
vast labour, it could not have been surmouijit- 
ed by man. 


Our bane and physick the same earth bestows, 
And near the noisome nettle blooms the rose. 

We may considt- r human hfe as :i garden, 
in which Roses and Nettles are promiscu- 
ously ftcatieredt and in which we ai often 

feel the sting of the wounding Nettle, as we 
enjoy the fragrance of th^ blooming Rose. 
T^ose bowers of delight, entwined with the 
woodbine and jessamine, under whose friend- 
ly umbrage we seek shelter from the noonday 
sun, sometimes are the abodes of snakes, ad- 
ders, and other venomous creatures, which 
wound us in those unguarded scenes of de- 
light. As the year has its seasons, and win- 
ter and summer are constantly in pursuit of 
each other, so changeable likewise is the 
condition of mortals: and, as the elements 
are frequently disturbed by storms, hurri- 
canes, and tempests, so is the mind of man 
frequently ruffled and discomposed, till the 
sunshine of reason and philosophy bursts 
forth and dispels the gloom. Murmuring 
brooks, purling streams, and sequestered 
groves, whatever the fictions of a poetical 
imagination may have advanced, are not 
alwa) s the seat of unmingled pleasure, nor 
the abode of uninterrupted happiness. 

The hapless Florio pined away some 
months on the delightful banks of the Severn: 
he complained of the cruelty of the lovely 
Annabella, and told his fond tale to the wa- 
ters of that impetuous stream, which hurried 
along regardless of his plaints. He gathered 
the lilies of the field: but the lilies were not 
so fair as his Annabella, nor the fragrance of 
the blushing rose so sweet as her breath; the 
lambs were not so innocent, nor the sound of 
the tabour on the green half so melodious as 
her voice. Time, however, has joined Florio 
and Annabella in the fetters of wedlock, and 
the plaints of the swain are now changed. — 
The delusion of the enchantment is now 
vanished, and what he but lately considered 
as the only object worthy of his sublunary 
pursuit, he now contemplates with coolness, 
indifference, and disgust: enjo\ ment has me- 
tamorphosed the Kose into a Nt tile. 

Emesius, contrary to his inclination, was 
compelled by his parents to marry the amia- 
ble Clara, whose sense, tenderness, and vir- 
tues soon fixed the heart of the roving Er- 
nestus; and what at first gave him pain and 
disgust, by degrees became familiar, pleasing 
and dehghtful: the Netde was here changed 
to the Rose. 

The wandering libertine, who pursues the 
Rose through the unlawful paths of love, who 
tramples under foot every tender plant that 
comes within his reach, and who roves from 
flower to flower, like the bee, only to rob it 
of its sweets, will at last lose his way, and, 
when benighted, be compelled to repose on 
the restless bed of wounding Nettles. 

The blooming Rose is an utter stranger to 
the wilds of ambition, where gloomy clouds 
perpetually obscure the beams of the joy fol 
sun, where the gentle zephyrs never waft 
through the groves, but discordant blasts are 
perpetually howling, and where the climate 
produces only Thorns and Nettles. 

The Rose reaches its highest perfection in 
the garden of industry, where the soil is 
neither too luxuriant, nor too much impover- 
ished. Temperance fans it with thi^ gentlest 
zephyrs, and health and contentment sport 
around it. Here the Nettle no sooner makes 
its appear mce, than the watchful e\ e of pru- 
dence espies it, and, though it m$f not be 

possible totally to eradicate it, it is never suf- 
fered to reach to any height of perfection. 

Since then human life is but a garden, in 
which weeds and flowers promiscuously 
shoot up and thrive, let us do what we can 
to encourage the culture of the Rose, and 
guard against the spreading Nettle. How- 
ever barren the soil that falls to our lot, yet 
a careful and assiduous culture will contri- 
bute not a little to make the garden, at least, 
pleasing and cheerful. 


On the edge of a small river in the county 
of Cavan, in Ireland, there is a stone with 
the following strange inscription, no .doubt 
intended for the information of strangers, 
travelling that way: " NB. When this stone 
is out of sight it is not safe to ford the river.'* 
But this is still surpassed by the famous post 
erected a few ye^rs since by the sur\'eyourh 
of the Kent Roads, in England: " This is the 
bridle path to Feversham — if you can't read 
this, you had better keep the main road." 



Nox erat et cxlo fulgebat iona^ sereno 
Inter minora sedera. H^r. 

Aside yon stream, which with its gentle waves 

The pebbled shore, with irequent dashing laves: 

There let me sit, with her whom I adore, 

And as we view the water's surface bright, 
In bliss refined we'll spend the evening hour, 
And there enjoy the mild sweet summer night. 
The southern gales while stealing o'er the hill, 
Bear the soft murm 'rings of the neighbouring rill. 

And as we talk of love — of fancied bliss. 
We'll taste the sweets of calm pure happiness; 
Well watch the moon, who rising mild and slow. 

Softens the brilliant lustre of the stars. 
And the thin clouds as they before her flow. 
That hifie her face, but still no beauty mars. 
For ever and anon she shows her face, 
Breaks from between them with majestick grace. 

And as she slow ascends the heaven's vast height. 

She beams on all things with her shadowy light; 

Now seeks the shades by melancholy loved, 

Where as the branches wave, she frequent shines, 
And twinkling through the leaves by zephyr moved* 
And now taint glimmering lights the darker lines, 
And now herra>s in wild confusion la>. 
And on the surface of the calm stream play. 

Well view the clouds in majesty to rise. 
And skirt with dreary black the starry skies; 
And see rhe lightening with its lambent blaze 

Fly through the air, and wing its rapid flight 
Bright as the noontide sun's effulgent rays. 
Spreading a pensive stiMness o'er the night: 
And then at times to view the distant sail, 
As slowly moving by the moonlight pale. 

There will we sit, and listen to the song 
Of some blithe boatman as be rows along, 

And then we'll mark, with notes both strong aad 
The distant Clarinet's inspiring sound. 
As now the musick floats in ambient air. 
Or now in softness sleeps upon the ground; 
Broken at times by the rough dashing mill, 
W hose noise faint echoes from yon distant hill. 

Or hear the pensive musick of the lute; 
Or the soft sighings of a lover's flute. 

Whose notes in inurmur.ugs around us fly: 
The flute, whose soothing strains and mellow 
Seems ^ed N^itk all the soul of melody, 
Awakes us now to life— now sinks to death; 
And as it warbles o er the sloping hill, 
No other aowid thatt break the evening's itilL 

Digitized by 




Or lay us on yon bank, o'er which the breeze 
Moves as it flies the gently waving trees; 

There where the winds in quicker motion fleet. 

Suspend the harp, from JEolus *tis named. 
Whose strings emit harmonious strains so sweet. 
Surpassing Orpheus* harp by poets famed: 
Ah! now its dulcet sounds sink to the heart, 
Breathing soft musick far above all art* 

This is the harp with solemn, mournful notes. 
Whose breath in wild and rude disorder floats; 
Now gently rising bears the soul to heaven, 
Now softly sinking calms the soul to rest; 
Now trembling, as the wind with force uneven 
Flits o'er its strings, thrills through the very breast: 
Again h pours such wild, such solemn airs, 
'•The listening heart forgets all sorrows and aU cares." 

Thus pass our evenings gentle and serene, 
When love, with tempering ray, spreads o'er the scene 
A calm still bliss, when breaking from the noise 

Of boist'rous pleasure, or companions gay, 
True lovers feel those soul entrancing joys, 
Mild as is Luna's softest brightest ray: 
Such bliss as this by those alone is felt. 
Whose hearts in genial sympathy can melt. 

By those alone whose souls are held in chains 
Of purest love, who feel each other's pains; 
Whose hearts in one mild current gently flow, 

"Refined by love — from all fierce passions freed; 
With virtue's brightest ray their bosoms glow; 
With hearts like these there's happiness indeed: 
Their lives pass on with bliss that's calm and even, 
And while on earth, they taste the joys of heaven. 


Comet to the temple to partake the ritt t 
Ordained by great Oasis, when the sun 
Sets out anew upon his yearly road. 

Around the sacred fane the tombs of kings, 
^ For virtue, warlike or pacifick, famed, ' 

Who lived to save their country, or who died. 
Are built^ with emblems and with trophies decked. 
The precincts uoprofaned spread far and wide 
Around these walls; a woody wilderness, 
A forest of primeval growth, the ground 
Shadows with leafy canopy obscure. 
The city's din, by distance rendered sweet, 
Strikes the sad ear of him who roves beneath. 
And keeps alive the holy mystick flame. 
Hard by the broken cliff which skirts the flood 
The kinglv palace stands, in towered state. 
And frowns defiance on the war of years; 
A limpid stream, that through the city flows, 
Mixes m rushing cadence with the sea. 
{To ifc continued.) 

Two soldiers being condemned to death in Flanders, 
the General being prevailed upon to save one of ihem, 
ordered them, to cast dice upon the drum head for 
their lives. The first, throwing two sixes, fell a ring- 
ing his hands; but was surprised when the other threw 
two sixes also. The officer appointed to see the exe- 
cution ordered them to throw again; they did so, and 
each of them threw two fives; at which the soldiers 
that stood round shouted, and said neither of thrm 
was to die. Hereupon the officer acquainted the coun- 
cil of war, who ordered them to throw again; and 
then came up two fours. The general being made 
acquainted with it, sent for the men, and pardoned 
them— "I love," says he, "in such extraordinary ca- 
ses, to listen to the voice of Providence." 



Strong in her men, and proud in wealth and arts, 
Fair Ombecilla stands, and heaves her walU 
And battlements high in the airy realms. 
A towered wall hems in her eastern side. 
Her treasures guarding from irruption rude; 
The wide-spread Caspian laves her western skirts; 
The banks are fenced by rocky pinnacles. 
On which the strong-winged ea^^le builds his nest. 
And safely mues his ravenous young in blood; 
And hence the eye would sicken as it gazed 
On the dark waters refluent at their foot. 
Within these bounds seven gorgeous fanes arise, 
With altars flaming to the country's Gods. 
On a near hill, o'ertopped with spiry trees* 
The fane of great Oasis proudly stands. 
And looks down on the city and the plains. 
Awe-struck and reverend are the eyes that gaze 
Upon its walls, gigantkk and eternal, 
Its glittering domes, and its columnar gates, 
That catch the dawning beams of orient day. 
Its courts at yearly festivals arc thronged 
By wondering crowds, whom a divine command 
Calls from the utmost bounds, the circuit wide, 
Of Altai's endless vales and long-drawn slopes. 
Within the walls the roving eye is lost 
^Midst waving hangings, and the sounding aisles, 
•Mid sculptured forms, and godlike pageantry; 
There meets the sight an altar to the God 
Whom most they love; there oft the victim slain 
Encrimsons with its blood the priestly hand; 
There oft the roof re-echoes to the voice 
Of prayer, to hymns and instjpumental sounds. 

An aged priest, Abassus called, presides, 
In robes of white, and pomp pontifical: 
Next to the king in honour is he held; 
His voice in council is es*^eemed most wise. 
MiB beard of snow falls reverend o'er his breast. 
And gravity sits throned upon his brow. 
Childless is he, for jealous gods refuse 
To share his heart with earth. begotten cares. 
He tends a taper's solitary rav. 
That trembles on the temple's dusky walls. 
And whose poor flame, With oils ambrosial fed, 
Must never die; for in that death would sink 
King, priest, and votary, halls, and fanes, and fields, 
Gulphed, at the instant, in one yawning grave. 
In narrow cell, these hallowed walls within. 
In holy trance he sits, to watch the pledge 
Of oaiversal safety glimmeriog near; 
Save when the king, » gorgeous trm attending^ 


Died, in Paris, on the 3d of May, Washington Mor- 
ton, Esq A New-York— at New-York, on the 8th 
instant; the Hon John Broome, lieutenant govemoor 
of that S;ate, aged 72^at Oyster-Bay. Long-Island, 
on the 6th instant, the Rev. Benjamin Coles, many 
years pabior of the Baptist Church at that place, in the 
73d year of his age— at New-Brunswick, on the 10th 
insranc, after a lingering illness, James Cole, Esquire, 
(far her of Doctor Cole of this city) aged 78— in Upper 
Freehold, suddenly, on Wednesday last, the 15th inst. 
Mr Jacab Hendrickbon, sen aged about 66: this event 
furnishes a melancholy proof of the uncertainty of life, 
and the verity of the declaration, that *• In the midst 
of life, we are in death:" He arose in the morning in 
perfect health, and pussued his business as usual, till 
about five o'clock in the afternoon, he was snatched 
from his affectionate family and numerous friends, 
while conveying the nut of a cider press to a neigh- 
bouring smith's shop: — His death was occasioned, as 
is supposed, by being thrown from the waggon, and 
wounded by the nut in its fall. When found he was 
sitting leaning against a fence: But alas! the solemn 
scene was closed, and no rental ns of life could be dis- 
covered. It were vain to attempt a description of the 
afflictive scene in the bereaved family, or to estimate 
the loss they and the community have sustained in the 
decease of so valuable a man. Few men have better 
filled the relative duties of life, as husband, parent, 
friend, and christian, and the poor of the vicinity wUt 
long entertain a grateful recollection of his kind offices* 



By the ship Niagara, from Rio Janiero, we learn 
that the prince regent was so much pleased at the ar- 
rival of Mr. Sumpter, the American minister, that he 
through his secretary of state presented 1000 acres of 
land to Mr. Pintard, the American secretary, and Mr. 
Balch, the onl) American merchant at that place — 
A new decree has been issued by the Danish govern- 
ment, directing that no ships bearing the American 
flag shall enter the pores of Tonningen and Uusum; 
this intelligence is confirmed in a letter from consul 
Forbes of June 19th, received at Bostoto: information 
has also been received from Tonningen, that the block- 
ade of Gottenborgh has been raised by the British, and 
the American vessels are no longer prevented from 
entering the Baltick. 


It is cakjulated that one-third of the harvest in Penn- 
sylvania has been destroyed by the rains. 

Providential e*ca/»f.— During the thunderstorm of last 
Monday eiening, the bouse of the tenant on the estate 
of Major James E. Smith, near the Lazaretto, was 
struck with lightning. The fluid descended by the 
chimney, the top of which was totally demolished, to 
a room about 13 feet square, in which were the tenant, 
his wife and five children, and a lad and a young wo- 
man who had taken shelter from the storm: The 
whole were prostrated by the shock, some of them se- 
yarely burnt, and the young woman, who was the most 
injured, lay apparently dead upwards of 20 minutesi 
coki water and bleeding restored her to animation — 
The shirt was burnt to a cinder on the boy's back, and 
the young woman's shoes crisped as if they had been 
in the fire; They are now considered as out of danger, 
though muCli burnt and blistered in varions parts of 
their bodiesf they all yet complain of extreme pain in 
the pit of the stomach. There was a ten plate stove 
in the room. 1 he fluid appeared to be scattered over 
the apartment, and every pane of glass in the house 
was shattered to pieces. 

At St Johns, Lower Canada, Lieutenant William 
Blackquire.of the 49th reginftent, to Miss Violet Woods. 

••He chanc'd to rove, one morn in May, 
Among the woods to pluck a floweri 

He snatch'd the violet, sweet and gay. 
To down wiUi Mws the Doptud hour." 


By virtue of a Writ of Venditioni Exponas to me 
directed, will be exposed tosale,atpuUick vendue, on 
Saturday, the sixth da> of October next, between the 
hours of twelve and five o*clock in the afternoon of 
said day, at the house of Joseph Hatkitison, inn4ceeper 
in Mount-Holy; all that certain tract or piece of land 
containing about 80 acres, situate in the township of 
Northampton, aiid now in the tenure and occupation 
of Joseph Mc Intash. 

Seized as the property of the said Joseph Mc Intash* 
and taken in execution at the suit of Apbllo Cooke, 
and to be sold by 

Wm. BORDEN, Late Sheriff: 

July 38th, 1810. 


Particulariy School Books, for sale by Thomas C. 
Trotter, in Mount Holly, near G. Owen's tavern^ 

Informshis friends and the publick ^neraUy, that he 
has removed his Store the west side of High Street, 
a few doors above James Sterling, where he kc»s % 
general assonment of 


suitable for the seasons, on liberal terms for cash or 
country produce. Having also undertaken an agency 
tor Almy & Brown, he has on hand from their Manu* 
factory in Rhode Island, Knitting, Sewing, and Weav- 
ing Cotton Yarn, blue and white do. for Warp and 
Filling, Bedtkking, Stripes, Checks, Sheetings, ShSn- 
tngs, &c &c. &c. 

8th Ma 6th. ^^f 


A Stable and Hay Homty vnth ^ome Fencing 
and Manure. 

The above must be moved off the premises in » 

month from the purchase. There is a conskierable 

quantity of good timber in the stable. Inquire at the 
office of the R. Visiter. 

• wtf 

Published Weekly^ by D. Allinson^ 

ciTT OF BUK&iiroToir, ir. j. 

Price two dollars a year— one half payaUt m advance 

the oUitt ia fix awDths. 

Digitized by 



** Homo sum; humanz nihil a me altenum puto.^^^^Man and his cares to me a man^ are dear^ 

VOL. I. 


No, 5. 


Mr. Editor, 
The title of your Paper brought to my recollection a 

Letter received some time since from a friend of 

niine, lately returned from a visit to Philadelphiar; 

——if you think it worth publishing, it is at yonr 


February 16th| 1810. 
Dear Susan, 

Since my return I have had little leisure 
and still less inclination, to give you an ac- 
count of my jaunt to Philadelphia: but hear- 
ing that you persist in your determination to 
visit it so soon,, I must at once enter upon 
the task, and descend to descriptions of tri- 
fling incidents, the variety of which will I 
trust interest my dear Susan, although they 
might not amuse a less partial ear; nor is to 
entertain my only motive, but to guard you 
iroxa the cruel disappointment, that I foresee 
your too sanguine expectations will expose 
you to. 

In passing through last summer with your 
father, you formed a just idea of the City, 
its situation, and its beautiful regularit} ; but 
a short residence alone, can make us ac- 
quainted with the inhabitants. My visit had 
been sometime projected, but was hastened 
by the pressing invitations of our friend 
E. S. , when on her last excursion here, 
and she has been you know in the practice of 
spendmg some weeks of every summer with 
me; and on such occasions our efforts were 
united to vary and devise her amusements. 
As our acquaintance commenced at board- 
ing-school, I believed that our friendship was 
mutual: her house therefore I determined to 
make my home, and prepared with alacrity 
for the journey: 

Hope's gayest visions o'er my fancy fle^. 
And scenes of rapture open'd on my viev. 

After having my new riding dress spoiled 
wjth dust, and my old bonnet not much worse 
than it was before, intendTng to get a new 
one when I saw what was worn by fashiona- 
ble people ; my brother and self arrived at 
the clean white steps and brightened knocker 
•f my friend*s door about half past twelve. 
A summons from the bell soon brought a 
servant, who, upon my inquiring for Eliza 
with breathless impatience, replied, agreea- 
bly to the general orders he had received for 
the morning, " that she was not at home;*' 
a custom I find almost universally adopted 
by fine ladies in defiance of truth. Observ- 
ing an hesitation, which I suppose our travel- 
ling dresses occasioned, he added that ** he 
would go and see:^ but first opening the 
door of a deserted parlour, desired us to 
walk in; which, fatigued and cold, I gladly 
obeyed, not doubting in the least the joy of 
Eliza when she should learn who waited to 
receive hen We hs^d leisure tQ survey the 

departing embers of a long neglected fire; 
and the room being still tolerably warm, we 
might have made ourselves comfortable, had 
it not been for a large fender which kept us 
at a distance. 

Here we remained near half an hour, and 
had time to remark the number of cards 
which decorated the mantle; when the door 
opened, and I flew to embrace my friend, who 
expressed her pleasure at seeing me, and 
spoke of you and our other acquaintance; 
but before the usual inquiries of what stay I 
purposed making and how long I had been 
in town, were ended, other company was an- 
nounced; and perceiving myself fast sliding 
into the back ground, while silendy listening 
to their arrangements for a party to which 
they had previously been engaged, and in 
which, of course, I could take no interest, 
painful sensations began to crowd upon me; 
which yet unwilling to indulge, I could not 
wholly discard, when I observed the more 
fashionable visiters of my friend entirely en- 
gress her attention. 

But I have forgotten to mention that 
George had left me to attend to some busi- 
ness, which he wished to have completed 
before he left town. Thus alone and unno- 
ticed, though in the midst of company, I 
arose to depart, and Eliza made many apolo- 
gies for not asking me to dine, assuring me 
her f ngagements for that day prevented it; 
but hoped I would frequently call again, 
which I faintly promised to do, and hastily 
left her inhospitable mansion with secret re- 
solves never more to enter it. Your sympa- 
thizing heart will sensibly feel my mortify- 
ing disappointment; but as some extenua- 
tion, some excuse, which I still feel anxious 
to make lor Eliza, I have repeatedly listened 
to the complaints of others who have met 
with a similar reception, from those whose 
professions had taught them to expect kind- 
ness and attention* 

I had scarcely walked a square, imdeter- 
mined what plan to pursue— for having no 
intimate acquaintance in town, and ashamed 
to return immediately home, after all the pre- 
parations which my country neighbours knew 
had been made to spend at least a week or 
two; nor could I forget at this critical mo- 
ment the impossibility of finding my bro- 
ther, who had taken his leave, and I had no 
doubt by this time left the city on his way 
home: — While reflecting on these things, I 
had walked about a square, as I told you be- 
fore, when to my very great surprise S. L 

accosted me; you may recollect when little 
girls we were inseparable; but she left this 
part of the country to go to school, and it is 
long since we have met. Her pleasure at 
meeting was not less thsm my own, and with 

a friendly earnestness that could not be re- 
sisted, she took me home with hei^ (unheed- 
ing my attempts to account for so readily 
complying) where I was received by her pa- 
rents with the utmost cordiality. 

And now, the weight removed from ray 
oppressed heart, I had courage to survey 
myself in a large glass which ornamented the 
parlour, where elegance and comfort were 
conspicuous* Your partial praises and those 
of some of our country friends, had taught 
me to believe my face and figure not con- 
temptible; so I consoled myself with believing 
the old bonnet must be alone in fault, and 
immediately resolved to replace it with a new 
one, as I must unavoidably meet Eliza, my 
friend and she being on visiting terms, and 
engaged to meet on a party the next morning.. 

1 will at a future period enumerate many 
instances of perplexities which ha^e arisen 
from empty professions — ^my time does not 
now permit me to continue the subject ; but 
surely my disappointment was natural, when 
I expected in the refined and cultivated socie- 
ty of the metropolis, politeness and good 
breeding, to discover so much vanity and sel- 
fishness — forgive the expression, and allow 
its justice.*— On your return I shall expect an 
account of your visit, till when adieu. 

Yours, &c. • E. M. 

Caspipina^s Letters. 
To Mrs. P— , of Philadelphia. 
Dear Madam, 

You asked me the other evening, whilst we ' 
were amusing ourselves round your cheerful 
fire-side with making many similes, whether 
I could find one for Humility* I answered 
offhand as well as I could* You was pleased 
^ith the sentiment, and desired me to put it 
in writing. Here then you have it with \^xy 
little alteration in the language* 

Q. What is Humility f 

A. TTis a fair and fragrant flower, in its 
appearance modest, in its situation low and 
hidden. It does not flaunt its beauties to 
every vulgar eye, or throw its odours upon 
every passing gale* *Tis unknown to the 
earthly botanist — it discovers itself only to 
the *^irifwa/ searcher:— Neither does he find 
it among those gay and gaudy tribes of flow- 
ers, with which the generality are so easily 
captivated; but in some obscure and unfre- 
quented spot, where the prints of human feet 
are rarely seen. But wherever he finds it, he 
is sure to behold its bosom opened to the 
Sun of Righteousness, receiving new sweets 
in perpetual succession from his exhaustless 

I am» your very sincere Friend and Servant, 

Queen-Streeti Sep. 2| 1772. 

Digitized by 





The txvin Brothers of Mezzoranicu 

[concluded fkom pace H.] 
As the marriage engagement is among th^ 
weightiest concerns of the empire, and ther^ 
was no law already provided in regard to so 
peculiar a case, it was necessarily left to the 
decision of the pophar, or prince of the coun- 
try; and the cause was propounded in the 
presence of him and the elders. The like- 
ness of the two brothers was in reality so 
great, that they were scarcely to be distin- 
guished aswder. The prince asked which 
of the two it was that led her to the altar? 
The eldest replied, that it was he. Berilla 
confessed, that indeed he pleased her at first; 
but the impression he made on her was but 
slight. Upon this it was asked, who gave 
her the first flower? and it proved to be the 
youngest. ' Berilla said she lost that; but, 
shortly after, her lover returned it to her, 
though at this moment he appeared less ami- 
able to her than before; however, she con- 
stantly thought it had been the same. The 
point which most perplexed the judge, was, 
that the maiden had received the full-blown 
flower from both the lovers. They looked 
Btedfastly on each other, without daring to 
utter a word. The pophar interrogated the 
young lady, whether, at the time she gave 
her consent, she did not believe she was giv- 
ing it to him who had led her to the altar? She 
affirmed that she did; but likewise declared, 
that her greatest inclination had fallen on 
him from whom she received the first flow- 
er. Both the brothers were now set before 
her, and the question was put to htr, which 
of the two she would choose if the election 
were now freely left to herself? She blushed: 
and, after a few moments of consideration, 
replied: " The youngest seems to have the 
greatest inclination for me;" at the same 
time darting him a look, that betrayed the 
secret wishes of her soul. 

All men now waited with impatience for 
the decree of the prince, and eagerly strove 
to read in his eyes the judgment he was go- 
ing to pronounce: but particularly the two 
lovers who seemed expecting the sentence of 
life or death. At length the prince addressed 
himself to Berilla with a stem and gloom jf 
countenance: "Thy misfortune, or rather thy 
imprudence, prevents thee forever from 
possessing either of the brothers. Thou hast 
gi\'en to each of them an incontestible right 
to thy person. One hope alone remains for 
thee: and that is, if one of them will forego 
his pretensions. And now, my sons, (con- 
tinued he) what have you to say? Which c^ 
you is disposed to sacrifice his own satisfac- 
tion to the happiness of his brother?'* They 
both made answer that they would sooner 
lose their lives. The prince turned again to 
the damsel, Who seemed on the point of sink- 
ing to the earth, and said: "Thy case excites 
my compassion; but, as neither of the two 
will yield, I am obliged to condemn thee to 
a single state, till one of thy lovers shall 
change his opinion or die." 

The lot was cruel; for in Mezzorania the 
state of celibacy was a heavy disgrace. The 
whole assembly was about to separate, when 

the younger brother threw himself on his 
knees betore the prince; ** I implore your 
patience for a moment (said he;) I will rather 
sacrifice my right, than see Berilla so severe- 
ly doomed. Take h^r, O my brother; and 
may ye live long and hapnily together. And 
thou, the delight of my life, forgive the trou- 
ble my innocent love has caused thee! This is 
the sole request I have to make thee." The 
assembly rose up, and the magnanimous 
lover was about to depart, when the prince 
commanded him to stay. "Son remain where 
thou art (said he;) thy magnanimity deserves 
to be rewarded. The damsel is thine ; for, 
by this sacrifice, thou hast merited her love. 
Give her thy hand, and live happily with 
her!** They were married shordy after, and 
the prince acquired great renown by this de- 



New- Jersey Agricultural Results and Pros- 
pects for 1810. 
The spring opened with the most forbid- 
ding prospects in relation to Wheat and Rye; 
especially the former. The winter had been 
uncomjTionly severe upon these imf)ortant 
branches of culture. The drought vhith fol- 
lowed in May, added to the discouragement 
of the Farmers, and in some parts, especially 
the lower or western coanties of tlu state, 
the hessian fly took the wheat and destroyed 
a considerable part of that which had surviv- 
ed the severe frosts of the w ifatt r. Many fields 
were ploughed up from the imprt ssion that 
the yield would not p:*) the reaping. — After 
the rains in June, both wheat and rye took 
an uncommon stait, and revived be) ond ex- 
pectation and progressed in improvement till 
harvest: this was especially the case in the 
middle and upper counties; but in some in- 
stances the wheat was affected by the rust 
and considerably injured. — Of wheat the 
average crop in the state, it is supposed, will 
not exceed the half of a common crop, some 
say not a third. — Of r) e the yield has been 
good; the grain well filled and heavy, and 
although light in some parts, the average 
crop is considered to be a good one. — The 
weather during harvest has been imsteady, 
but most of the grain in the lower and mid- 
dle counties was got in without damage: In 
Sussex it is apprehended considerable loss 
has been sustained in consequence of the late 
rainy weather. The grain in general ripen- 
ed later than usual; and a remarkable differ- 
ence of the time of ripening of fields in the 
same neighbourhood nas been obser\^ed. — 
Hay: The first cuttings quite short, but got 
in generally very well. From the frequent 
rains,a larger crop than usual from the second 
cutting is to be expected. — Oats: The crop 
in general abundant; perhaps equal to last 
years produce, which was very great. — Flax: 
The crop also, as last year, very good in the 
upper counties, but considerably damaged 
by the late rains.-— Indian Com: Although 
ver}' unprondismg and backward, in conse- 
quence of the drought at the time of planting 
and soon after it came up, now presents a 
prospect scarcely ever exceeded, of an abun- 
dant harvest. — Potatoes also promise a good 
yield; and Buckwheat never appeared better 

at this season .—Apples : Since iht settle- 
ment of the country thc;"e probably never was 
a season that proumed so large a supply. 

Vegetation^ — A leaf of the common sum- 
mer squash was last week hanued into this 
office, which grew in general Forbe's garden, 

and measured as follbws, viz. Length of 

the stt-m 26 inchcra— Circumlerencc of do. 
4. 1-2 — Length of the leaf 19 3-4 — Breadth 
ol do. 26. 

Large Strcnvberry^ — A strawberry of the 
Chili spccicb, grew in this village this season, 
which measured 3 inches and 3-8ths in cir- 
cumference. Many were found in the same 
garden which produced the above, measuring 
from 2 to 3 inches. — Windsor^ F. pap^r* 


When I see a husband spending his money 
and his time at taverns, and forsaking his 
wife and family, I say. Pay what thou oxoest. 

When 1 see a wife intent almost solely 
upon dress, abandoning her domestick c on- 
cems to destruction, while she is parading 
through the streets to exhibit her divine per- 
son and elf gant accumplishments, I say. Pay 
what thou owest* 

When I see a father or mother neglecting 
•the education of their children, and suffering 
them to run wild inthe streets, in the high 
road to perdition, without the smallest effort 
to rescue them by parental authority, 1 sa^', 
Pay what thou owest. 

When I see a child who has been tenderly 
brought up by fond and doting parents, 
treating them with disrespect and inattention, 
perhaps with cruelty, in their old age, I say, 
in the most emphatical manner. Pay what 
thou owest. 

When I see a man giving large and expen- 
sive entertainments ; hving m a style of 
princely extravagance, regardless of the ruin- 
ous consequences to his fortune; and, at the 
same time, putting off the payment of trades- 
men's bills, under the most frivolous pre- 
tences, I am ready to cry out, in a voice of 
thunder, Paj^ what thou owest. — P. Folic?* 


Garcilasso de la Vega, in his royal com- 
mentaries, gives an account of the noblest 
road upon record. He states it as extending 
the whole length of Peru, not far short of 
two thousand miles in length, and twenty- 
five in breadth. It is perfectly straight and 
level throughout, although its course is over 
prodigious rocks and mountains, and im- 
mense vallies. The two former were cut 
through and the latter filled up. It has been 
executed many hundred years before his 
time, and was still in an excellent state of 


As a countrj' gentleman in London was 
reading a newspaper in a Coffee- House, he 
said to a friend who sat next to him, "I have 
been looking some time to see what the Mi- 
nistr}' are about, but I cannot see where those 
articles are put, not being used to the Lon- 
don papers.** "Look among the Robberies," 
replied the other. 

Digitized by 




The Duke of R— going on horseback, 
upon a visit to a worthy clergyman at Nac- 
ton, near Landguard Fort, to take the diver- 
sion of shooting, desired a simple rustick 
about sixteen, who was servant in the family 
to take care and rub down his horse, and not 
give him any water, when the lad replied, 
** yes maister— no maister," on which the 
groom, who stood by, severely rebuked him 
for his rudeness, telling him that the person 
who alighted was a great man, *' and when- 
ever he bids you do any thing, (said the 
groom) you must be sure to say Tour Grace.*^ 
— Young Hob treasured up in his memory 
the advice which he had received: a few days 
after when the Duke mounted his horse, he 
bade the lad take the stirrup a hole lower; 
the boy with great solemnity answered, "/'or 
rvfiMt we are going to receive the Lord make 
us thankful.'' 

A vain ftllow, who commanded a small 
vessel, but who tried to appear bigger than 
the captain of a first rate man of war, told bis 
cabin boy one day, that he had company com- 
ing on board to dine; and that when he asked 
him for the silver handled knives and forks, 
he must tell him the}' were gone on shore to 
be ground:, and answer in the same strain, 
any other questions he might ask. He did 
so. The knives and forks went off very welL 
The next question was, "Where is that large 
Cheshire Cheese, boy.^"— " Gone ashore to 
be ground, sir." 

The following anecdote lately occurred at 
Boston — A lady having cut an advertise- 
ment out of a newspaper with an intention to 
send it to the printer for further information, 
pinned it upon her gown. A gentleman (to 
whom slie was partial) observing that it be- 
gan with "To let,'* asked, at whatprice^ ma- 
dam?— She looked at the piece, and perceiv- 
ing his drift, answered, at the price of your 
handj sir. 

(j!3*There is at this time living at Bridge- 
town, East-Jersey, and was lately seen by the 
Editor, a Lady (Mary Alston) who has liv- 
ing 4 children, 32 grand children, 117 great 
grand children, and 43 great great grand 
children — in all 196. She has had man}* 
more, who are deceased; and it is remarka 
ble that there is not an instance of a drunkard 
among them. 


At the house of Mr. Charles Climer, on 
Walnut creek, Fairfield county, on Friday, 
June 29, while Mr. Climer and his wife were 
at meeting, their youngest child, something 
more than one year old, fell from the loft 'and 
by the fall was left breathless. — The oldest 
of the children that was at home, was a \SOy 
of about 1 1 or 12 years old ; he shook the 
child, and hallooed over it to bring it to 
again, but in vain. He then m^de one of the 
other children take the child in its arms and 
carry it out of the house, and hold it up from 
the ground. He then took a gun and held 
it over the child, and fired it; and in about 
half a minute the chHd began to breathe. He 

^"en took the child and carried it to its mo- 
ther at the meeting, which was .about a quar- 
ter of a mile off: when he came with the child 
it was quite helpless and limber; but it soon 
began to recover strength and sit up. It b 
left with the philosopher to assign the cause 
of this phenomenon, yet it is in the power of 
any person to make the experiment of the boy, 
in case of sudden death. 

Longevity.^^A. Dublin paper of May 10, 
has the following paragraph: — " A few days 
ago, two old men went on board a White- 
haven vessel at George's quay to purchase 
coal. One of them had a little boy by the 
hand, apparently ab«ut three or four years 
old. '* This (observe ed the captain) is your 
grandson, I suppose'* — ^^ Nay (replied the 
former) he is Hiy son.*' " Your son!" "Yes, 
and that old fellow there is another of my 
sons, but there is a difference oi seventy years 
in their ages!" This turned out to be the 
fact — the father is a hundred; and about four 
years ago, he married a girl of txventy-two^ 
by whom he had this youngest child." 

A remarkable inttance ofProlifick Longevity. 

In May last, " a good old man*'* by the 
name of Samuel Tolman, born at Dorchester, 
1707, (aged 103 years) now living at Mati- 
nicus Island, (Maine) visited this town and 
walked up to the Cupola of the new state house 
with the informant. He was in good health, 
reads without glasses, and retains his full 
powers of mind. The thanksgiving before 
last, he sat at his table with rising seventy of 
his children, grand children, and great grand 
children. He enumerates above 360 of his 
progeny — His oldest son is 80 years old — 
his youngest, by his third and present wife, 
but 13. He has seen three French wars — 
stryed in the revolutionary war at the expe- 
dition to Penobscot; and says, if our govern- 
ment bid, he is ready to shoulder his arms 
and do his part to assert his country *& rights, 
if he retains his present strength of body and 
m'ihd. — Boston Paper. 

The Boston Centinel also says, " There is 
now living in Stafford, Con. a man who is 
supposed to be in the 105d year of his age, 
who mounts his horse with agility; and has 
not only the vivacity of a middle aged person, 
but a volatility ill according with his great 


A few days since, died the celebrated Par- 
rot belonging to Col. O'Kelly. This extra- 
ordinary' creature sung a number of songs in 
perfect time and tune; and if she ever made 
a lapse, she would stc^p and go over the pas- 
sage until her ear was perfecUy satisfied: she 
could express her wants articulately, and give 
her orders in a manner approaching nearly to 
rationality. Her age is not^known ; but it is 
upwards of thirty years since the late Mr. ' 
O'Kelly bought her at Bristol, at the price of 
100 guineas. The body was dissected by Dr. 
Kennedy and Mr. Brooke, when the muscles 
of the Larynx^ which form the voice, were 
foujnd, from the effect of practice, to be un- 
commonly strong; but there was no apparent 
cause for its sudden death.— i^;2(/(p» paper. 



Ah, sweet Hyphasis! natil fountain sweet, 
May never hostile footsteps bathe in thee, 
And ne'er rude battle mingle with thy murtmir! 
Well pleased, the maids of Ombecilla bathe 
Their fervid temples and their floating hair 
In thy enamoured wave; and chief I love 
To gaze in thy broad mirror at the skies. 
While many a bark, at evening's peaceful hour. 
Skims lightly o*er thy wave, and all thy shades 
Give echo to the oar and carman's song. 
Hyphasis and her far-spread arms bestow, 
Without the walls, o'er wide extending plains, 
O'er many a waving field, luxuriance green; 
Abundance laughs around; the lowing herds 
Are heard among the vales; the clambering goats • 
Look from the hillock's brow; and bleating flocks 
Crop the green meadows, and repose in shades; 
While from beneath each branching fir looks out 
The cottage roof, in sweet and humble guise. 
The plains are gladdened by the jocund voice 
Of shepherd, calling to his errant flock. 
The pipe's shrill musick, and industrious sounds. 

Skirting the north, a chain of mountains spreads, 
That with their blue heads pierce the passing clouds. 
No culture tames the fierceness of their soil; 
The larch-tree climbs their steep and rocky side; 
And their ruffian horde in old time dug 
Their darksome dens, and thence, e'en now are wont 
At night's still hour, to come in search of spoil,. 
And led by thirst of blood. 

' These bands are led 

By Artaban, of giant port, and skilled 
In wiles, and all the robber's artifice. 
His arm descends like some high falling tower 
On the sad stranger wandering in the dark; 
And, like a whirlwind, in his wrath he -sweeps 
Unsheltered villages, unguarded flocks. 
Grim-visaged man! none but the brave can meet 
The terrours of his dark and flashing eye. 
Or mark the bend of his o'ershadowing brows; 
His stride is dreadful to the field of strife, 
And his dark armour fear-strikes hosts of mei^. 

He as a god leads forth his vassal clan; 
His anger slays, his nod dispenses life; 
He bids, and they who dare to faultcr, straight 
Are piecemeal hewn by his indignant sword. 
And thrown to blood-hounds to regale their thirst. 
He tramples under foot the power of kings. 
And walks secure *midst ambush, and o^tr mines. 
Loud Rumour is most busy with his name; 
It is her trade to bruit in our ears 
His marvellous feats in council and in war. 
She tells us how a troop of fiery youth. 
Five banded thousands were they, culled with care 
From out the hafdy tons of southern hills. 
Assailed- him, whom they single, shieldless found, 
At his spare meal, in bottom of a cave. 

Alas! their leagued swords availed them naught 
Against his iron arm; they fell in heaps, 
Like grass before the scythe; he thinned their files, 
Till slaughter-weary, or with pity touched. 
His hand forbore; and bounding o'er the heads 
Of those who fled, he vanished clean away. 

A pilgrim clambering o'er the rocks, benightedt 
Sought shelter from the storm within his cave. 
Artaban then was prowling on the plains. 
The stranger, Vearied, threw himself to rest 
On some dry leaves, and closed his eyes in sleep. 
Not long he slumbered, when the piercing voice 
Of signal-hom was heard. He waked and saw, 
Entering the cavers rude door, the scowling chief; 
The pilgrim started ffcm his leafy bed. 
His dress and aspect told his name, and now 
Not e'en to supplication did the wretch 
Betake himself, for Artabas sfaked nokb, 
And fame through every land had blown the soutid. 

The chief quick darted at th' intruder, eyes 
Of fierce suspicion: from his sheath outflew 
The sword that fear-struck mortals deem divine. 
But paused the chief, and while his fiery eyes 
Roved o'er the figure of the trembling man. 
His tattered raiment, snowy front, and back 
By age bent double, he his rage dismissed. 
In accents mild he bade the pilgrim stay, ^ 
Rest on his leaves that night, and bi'eak bis br^. 
Sprinkled with sacred sail. When day returned^ 
In decent weeds he clothed hhn, his slow steps 
He guided safely through the thicket's maze; 
The track of men regiuned, he bade Gcd 9pu4. 

Digitized by 





Bf the late JMr, Beding field, tfNencattle, 

You to whose care I've now consignM, 
My house's entrance, caution use, 

While you discharge your trust; and mind 
Whom you admit, and whom refuse. 

Let no fierce passions enter here— 

Passions the raging breast that storm— 

Nor scornful pride, nor servile fear. 
Nor hate, nor envy's pallid form. 

Should Av'rice call— you'll let her know, 
Of heap'd up riches I've no store; 

And that she has no right to go 
Where Plutus has not been before. 

Lo! on a visit hither bent, 

High plum'd Ambition stalks about, 
But should he enter, sweet content 

Will give me warning— shut him out. 

Perhaps the Muse may pass this way, 
And iho' full oft I've bent the knee. 

And long invoked her magick sway, 
Smit with the love of harmony; 

Alone tho' she might please— yet still 
I know shell with ambition come; 

With lust of fame my heart shell fill; 
Shell break my rest. I'm not at home. 

There is a rascal old and hideous, 
Who oft (and sometimes not in vain) 

Close at my gate has watched assiduous; 
In hopes he might admittance gain: 

His name is Care. If he should call, 
Quick out of doors with vigour throw him; 

And tell the miscreant, once for all 
I know him not— I ne'er will kaow him. 

Perhaps then Bacchus, foe to Care, 
May think he'll sure my favour win; 

His promises of joy are fair. 
But false: You must not let him in. 

But welcome that sweet pow'r, on whom 
The young desires attendant move; 

Still flush'd with beamy <s vernal bloom^ 
Parent of bliss— the queen of love. 

O! you will know her: She has stole 

The lustre of my Delia's eye: 
Admit her; hail her; for my soul 

Breathes double life when she is nigh. 

If then stem Wisdom at my gate 
Should knock with all her formal tndoy 

Tell her I'm busy; She may wait, 
Or, if she chooses^call again. 



The Violet in her green-wood bower. 
Where bcachen boughs with hazles mingle. 

May boast itself the fairest flower, 
In glen, in copse, or forest dingle. 

Though fair her gems of azure hue, 
Beneath the dew-drop's weight reclining; 

I've seen an eye of lovelier blue. 
More sweet through wat'ry lustre shining. 

Thtf summer sun that dew shall dry, 
Ere yet the day be past its morrow; 

Nor longer in my false love's eye, 
Remained the tears of parting sorrow. 


Fareign.-^yir. Brown, the late Collector of New- 
Orleans, who absconded with 150,000 dolhirs, has been 
apprehended in London* he was taken in the theatre, 
at the instance of Mr. Pinckney. He ^vc up bills 
and other valuable property to Mr. P. to the amwinr, 
Jt is said| of ten thousand pounds sterling. 

TVest Florida Independent/ 

The Clarion, a Tennessee paper, of the STth July, 
announces, as received by the Natchez mail of the pre- 
ceding evening, the News of the inhabitants of V\ ttt 
Florida having resolved to shake off their European 
allegiance, and join the United States, or establish a 
free government. 

On the 5th of March, Donald M'Kenzie and Wilson 
P Hunt, embarked at La Chine, wiih a crew of 16 
men in one canoe, for the north west coast of this con- 
tinent, with a view of opening a new trade. 

Married, on Fourth-day, the I5th inst. at Frenda' 
Meeting-house in Liberty-Street, New -York, Benjamin 
S. Collins, to Hannah Bowne, daughter of Kobert 
Bowne, all of that city. 


Died, in Willingborough, Burlington county, N. J 
on the 29th ultimo, Samuel Newton, in the 91st year 
of his age.— At sea, on his passage from the Havanna 
to New-Orleans, lieutenant Tripp of the United Stales 
navy —At Carthagena, on the 1st July, John Otwarld, 
esq of Philadelphia, 


Wheat, 15s— old Rye, 9s— new ditto, 8s 6d^-Com, 
6s— Oats 2s 3d— Flaxseed rs 6d— Flax, lid to Is. 

To Corretpondenu, 

The Recorder, No. 5, necessarily omitted this week, 
shall appear in our next In the ensuing number, we 
shall also resume the Orchardist.— Several other com- 
munications are under consideration. 


By virtue of a Writ of Fierifacias to me directed, 
will be exj)osed to sale at publick vendue, on Saturday, 
the sixth day of October, between the Hours of twelve 
and five o'clock in the afternoon of said day, at the 
house of Joseph Pearson, at the Toll Bridge; a House 
and Lot of Land lying near the same. 

Seized as the property of Aurelius Mills and others, 
and taken in Execution at the suit of William Buzby, 
and to be sold by 

MAHLON BUDD, Sheriff. 
July rth, 1810. 

" A COW FOR SALl!., 

Inquire of 

ANN BACON, Wood st. Burlington. 
8th mo. 27th. * 


By virtue of a Writ ot Venditioni Exponas to me 
directed, will be exposed to sale, at publick vendue, on 
Saturday, the sixth da) of October next, between the 
hours of twelve and five o'clock in the afternoon of 
said day, at the house of Joseph Hatkinson, iun-keeper 
in Mount-Holy; all that certain tract or piece of land 
containing about 80 acres, situate in the township of 
Northampton, and now in the tenure and occupation 
of Joseph Mc Intash. 

Seized as the property of the said Joseph Mc Intash, 
and taken in execution at the suit of Apollo Cooke, 
and to be sold by 

.,««..« ^™- BORDEN, Late Sheriff. 
July 28th, 1810. 


A Stable and Hay House^ with some Fencing 
<md Manure. 

The above must be moved off the premises in a 
month from the purchase. There is a considerable 
quantity of good timber in the fttable. Inquire at the 
office of the R. Visiter* 


To be Sclu\ at Private Sale^ 

A valuable grazing farm. S)tuate in the township of 
Downe, cmmty of Cumbt-napd, New-Jfrsev. contain- 
ingabou 600 acres; 21 6 of uhicu are banked lueadow, 
a considerable proportion of it of fhe first quality, equal 
or superiour to any in the slate for raising grain or 
grass, and the residue mav be made so at a small ex. 
pense; the remainder of the fann consists of 100 acres 
of woodland, and 111 acres of arable land, all in a bo- 
dy adjouiing to the banked mcado w; lOOacres of sah 
marsh, and 71 acre* of cedar swamp, in sight, and but 
a short distance from the plantation. The arable land 
IS of an excellent soil, in good heart, and is convenient- 
ly divided with good cedar rail fences. There are on 
the premises two orchards of excellent fruit, a good 
prden, a commodious two story frame dwelling.honse, 
large bam. wind mill and miller's house, (the two last 
are quite out of repair) together with a number of 
other conveniences. 

The plantation, besides supporting a stock of 200 
head of catUe. will yield an annual surplus of at least 
50 tons of hay for sale. A dairy, to a very considera- 
ble extent, may be carried on; and the situation U 
such, that an advantageous market for the whole pro- 
duce of the form wiU be always found on the spot? A 
terry has been heretofore kept at the place for many 
years, it being the most direct route from the lower 
counties to Capc-May-having a strait road leading 
^"^^y^^^^^^vr^cxX^ through the farm to the XovX 
of Dividing Creeks, distant 4 1-4 mUes. at which 
place there is a post-office established. On the oppo- 
site side of the river it is contemplated halving a road 
laid out to the town of Leesburg, distant about I 1-2 
miles, from which place a direct road is opened to 
Cape-May, which wUI complete the communication 
through the county on the most direct and eligible 
route, thereby avoiding all those heavy sands whidi so 
much retard and fatigue the traveUer in his present 
route by Millville and Port-Elizabeth. There is also a 
landingestabhshed near the ferry, where lumber is sent 
ott in considerable quantities to market, and if encour- 
agemeni was given very large quantities could be ob- 

This estate is pleasantly and advantageously situa- 
ted at the junction of Maurice river whh the Dela- 
ware, and commands an extensive view of the bay — 
Terrapins, clams and oysters ma> be had in abundance, 
within a short distance; and 'fishing and fowling of 
various kmds in iheir seasons. Considered in every 
point of view, this farm has not its equal inthecoun- 
ty of Uimberland, perhaps in West-Jersey, and is so 
situated as to be conveniently divided into two farms. 
1 he whole of this property wUI be sold together, or 
separately, as may best suit the purchaser. The pay- 
ments will be made easy, possession given the 25th of 
March next, and an indisputable title made for the 

•u * Vf *"^f"^«^»i^ **»« a»>ove property is not sold before 
the 25th day of Maijcb next, to lease out the same, for 
a term of years, on an improving lease; or yeariy for 
a certain rent. Any person wishing to undertake the 
same, or a part thereof, may depend upon having it on 
a generous lay. either the whole or in part, as it is ex- 
pected It wUl be divided into two fiirms, for the bet- 
ter accommodating those who wish to lease the same 

«, o. , « DAVID C. WOOD. 

Woodbury. June 30. 1810. 

Informs his friends and the publick generally, that be 
hw removed his Store the west side of High Street, 
a few doors above James Sterling, where he keeps a 
general assortment of 


suitable for the seasons, on liberal terms for cash or 
country produce. Having also undertaken an agenc/ 
(or Almy & Brown, he has on hand from their Manu- 
factory in Rhode Island, Knitting, Sewing, and Weav- 
ing Cotton Yam, blue and white do. for Warp and 
FiUing. Bwiticking, Stripes, Checks, Sheetings, Shirt- 
ings, &c &c. &c. 

8th Mo. 6th. wtf 

Published Weekly^ by D. AUinson^ 


^Price two dollars a year— one half payable in advance* 
' the other in six months. 

Digitized by 



" Homo sum ; humani nihil a me alienum puto.^^ — Man and his cares to me a man, are dear. 

VOL. 1. 


No. 6. 

No. V. 

«* Unnumbered 8uppliants crowd preferment's gate 
«• A thirst for wealth, and burning to be great; 
«* Delusive fortune hears the incessant caJl — 
**They mount, they shine, evaporate and fall." 

The soul of man is slow in its resolves, and 
languishing in its execution. The passions 
- therefore are given .us to rouse and force it 
into action — to awaken the understanding, 
and to give vigour to the whole man in the 
prosecution of his designs. 

Providence no doubt had important ends 
to answer in implanting these passions in our 
breasts, particularly that of Ambition^ a prm- 
ciple ever bold, restkss and perse venug. It 
was necessary that burbarous nations should 
be conquered and civilized, arts and nianu- 
I factures invented and improved, volu ues 
j written and transmitted to posterity; and 
I mere virtue, without some common impelling 
I principle, is of too tame a nature to eflcct this 
end: but the love of fame, like the sun on the 
torpid animal, gives vigour to great endow- 
ments, and often engages us, contrary' to our 
natural inclinations, in a course of useful and 
honourable conduct. 

Fame however is a pinnacle, to the sum- 
mit of which very few honourably arrive. 
The passion is universal $ but thousands 
have not talents to command admiration for 
their exertions; thousands by aspiring too 
high lose their aim and fall into an ignomi- 
nious obscurity; thousands are betrayed by 
it into views which lessen reputation and 
pull down the fabrick as fast as ambition can 
rear it. 

The. love of fame raises a secret tumult in 
the breast: still reaching after an imaginary 
good too empty, to satisfy it, it throws the 
mind into hurry and disorder. Other objects 
of desire can aJlay the cravings of their pro- 
per passions; but the love of fame produces 
91 pleasitre which does not satisfy present 
thirst, it only excites new desires and urges 
oo the soul to new enterprises. 

But as ambition is ever subject to disap* 
pointment, so the laurels of well earned re- 
putation are ever exposed to be shrivelled 
by the foul breath of detraction. A man of 
an illustrioas character draws a multitude of 
^es upon him, who are disposed to inspect 
with envious keenness, and to exhibit in a 
light the most disadvantageous, the smallest 
imperfections.--*! will not to exemplify the 
idea, carry back your meditations to the de- 
grading but iUttstrious heroes of antiquity; 
-«<£fau^der is a moasler that never dies; its 

forky virulence is now as maliciously point- 
ed against eminence in worth and usefulness 
as ever. Where is the statesman who has 
been celebrated for his virtue and honesty, 
whose character as far as detraction could 
do it has not been dehvered to infamy? even 
Washington, the great, the good, the immor- 
tal Washmgton, whose name not only every 
American, but every inhabitant of the globe 
must venerate for his virtue and patriotism, 
has been a butt for the shafts of envy. Hap- 
py the man who, deaf to the noise and strife 
of tongues, pants to enjoy the plaudits of his 
conscience and ot his maker; who from the 
high rock of substantial greatness, looks down 
with unconcern upon the censures and ap- 
plauses of the multitude. 

Evcr\^ virtue requires a proper time, place 
and opportunity for its exercise. A state of 
poverty obscures all the lustre of liberality 
and mimificence: some virtues are seen only 
in affliction, some in prosperity, some in a 
publick, others m a private capacity; but the 
Lord of the Universe beholds every virtue, 
even when concealed in the greatest obscu- 
rity — sees what we do, and what we would 
do, and will hereafter reward virtuous incli- 
nations which have never been put into exe- 
cution, through a want of opportunity. 

Turn then, O man of ambition! into this 
channel all thy desires for fame. If your 
sphere of life is very limited, fill it with ho- 
nour, with virtue, with integrity : if you 
move in a more elevated situation, seek the 
applauses of the Supreme Ruler of the Uni- 
verse in all your actions. Let the statesman 
indulge the love of fame by daring, in the 
midst of all opposition, to place before his 
fellow citizens their tri^e interests, to act for 
the benefit of his country according to the 
dictates of his conscience, unbiassed by self- 
interest, unprejudiced by party spirit. Let 
the magistrate pursue renown in a fair and 
impartial administration of the laws, unse- 
duced by corruption, unawed by threatening, 
and uncontrolled by prejudice. Let the 
general gratify his ambition, by directing the 
thunderbolts of war only where necessity 
renders the stroke unavoidable ; let him sa- 
crifice his false ambition at the altar of hu- 
manity, and trust his success, not only to his 
own valour and courage, but also to the un- 
erring hand of providence, in whose power 
it is to create or demolish armies at will. In 
a word, let the lover of fame so regulate the 
passion, that on the last day, when we are 
sunmi«ned to give an account of the deeds 
done in the body, we may hear the most flat- 
tering of all praises, *^ Well done thou good 
and faithful servant, enter thou into the joys 
of thy Lord." 

No. IV. 


The apple tree being naturally very full erf 
branches, frequendy requires the operation 
of pruning; and when properly executed^ 
great advantages will be tound to arise from 
it. But as it is generally performed, the in- 
jury the tree sustains is much greater than 
the benefit it receives. The ignorant pruner 
gets into the middle of it, and lays about him 
to the right and left t'dl he leaves onlj small 
tufts of branches at the extremities of the 
large boughs. These branches now receiv- 
ing the whole nourishment of the tree, of 
course increase rapidly, and soon become, 
when loaded with fruit or snow, too heavy 
for the long naked boughs, which are of 
necessity fuU of dead knots from the former 
labours of the pruner, to support. The pre- 
sent system ought to be reversed, and the 
pruner should confine himself almost entire- 
ly to the extremities of the bearing branches, 
which are always too full of wood, and leave 
the internal part of the tree nearly as he finds 

In the pruning of apple trees, the points 
of the external branches should be every 
where rendered thin and pervious to the 
light; so that the internal parts of the tree 
may not be wholly shaded by the external 
parts; the light should penetrate deeply into 
the tree on every side, but not anywhere 
through it. When the pruner has j udicious- 
ly executed his work, every part of the tree, 
external as well as internal, will be produc- 
tive of fruit, and the internal parts in unfa- 
vourable seasons will rather receive protec- 
tion than injury from the external ones. A 
tree thus pruned will not only produce much 
more fruit, but will also be aUe to support a 
much heavier load of it without danger of 
being broken. 

Each variety has its own peculiar growth; 
and this it will ultimately assume, in a consi- 
derable degree, in defiance of the art of the 
pruner.' Something may nevertheless be 
done to correct whatever is defective. When 
the growth of any variety is weak and re- 
clining, the principal stem should be trained 
to a considerable height, before it be allowed 
to produce branches, and if any of these 
take a horizontal or pendent direction, they 
should be regularly takcii off. One principal 
leading stem should be encouraged almost 
to the summit of the tree, to prevent a sud- 
den division into two large boughs of nearly 
equal strength; for the fork which these 
form is apt to divide and break when the 
bripches are loaded with fruit. All efforts 

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to give the heads of young trees a round and 
regularly spreading form whilst in the nur* 
sety, will be found injurious in the future 
aUges dF their growtfi. Large br^ches 
should rarely or never be amputated. 

Trees that grow with excessive vigour, 
maybe made fruitful by digging them up 
and replacing them with some fresh mould in 
Ae same situation. The too great luxuriance 
of growth is checked, and a dispositioti to 
bear is in consequence brought on. 

In cold dr}Mng winds, I have always seen 
those trees most pn)ductive of fruit which 
were moderately full of wood, and capable of 
affording their blossoms some protection from 
frost and cold ; and the same protection is 
also aflbrded against excessive heat. 

The tree ought to retain, internally at least, 
much of the close branchy growth which its 
nature always gives it. The pruning-knife 
may however be used with some degree of 
freedom on young trees, for the branches of 
these soon repair any breaches which may be 
made in them; but if an old tree, or one 
which has ceased to grow larger be so thin- 
ned as to admit a free current of air through 
it, it is ruined forever. It has been supposed 
that the fruit which stands exposed to the 
sun and air on the outside of the branches, is 
alone capable of making fine cider ; bat ex- 
perience by no means justifies this conclu- 
sion. When a tree has been pruned accord- 
ing to the preceding directions, the fruit on 
every part of it will be found to po^s^ss very 
nearly the same degree of excellence. 

The following, with some others we may 
give our readers, is the production of a 
young American, during a residence in 
London, in the years 1602 and 1803: The 
matter they contain is interesting, and 
though the writer seems sometimes fond 
of quoting Latin, there is so much origi- 
nality of thought, s6 much useful and inter- 
esting information, we think they will re- 
Siire no studied eulogium to recommend 
em; and we expect wy are new to most, 
if not all our readers. 


London, July 30. 

We breakfasted at Henley, a considerable 
country town; and while breakfast was pre- 
paring, I went into a neighbouring church- 
yard, these being places of most amusement 
ia many country tO¥m8, to read the epitaphs, 
«ome of which were highly impressive, 
though written in an exquisite bad taste. 
Sometimes, the writers of these epitaphs, 
possib|v without knowipg it^hit upon the sub- 
lime ot human character. The following epi- 
taph I met with in a country village, ^^ Here 
lies die* body of Henry Steele. He was a 
(oodson and a good brother, agood husband 
aMa good father: and the neighbours all 
followed him to his gravc.^ 

Between Henley and Oxfcxrd, the pros- 

Gcts, scenery, cultivation, the ripe abundant 
rvest of wheat, the grateful mellow tem- 
perature of the season, all conspired to en- 
hance diose pleasures, which liberal nature 
offers even to the seiMes. Surely, said I^ 

this is a delightful country! ^^ Yes,'' said my 
companion, ^^but finish your rhapsody quick, 
or it will end in a sarcasm.'' I looked up 
and saw at a distance, a company of little 
gleaners approaching, with their arms full of 
sheaves. ** There,* said he, ** your first re- 
flection will be, that although Providence has 
lavished an abundant harvest, this little com- 
pany of gleaners will scarcely have in winter, 
bread to eat, while the granairies, in mockery 
of Ceres, will hold much of this wheat imtil 
it rots. But who can help it, if monopoli- 
zers xciii/ puzzle God's providaice?" As 
the gleaners passed by, I asked one of them 
**Why they went so far to glean, when the 
reapers were so busy all aroundr*' '* O, sir,*' 
said another of the company, who seemed 
to be the brightest, " it is not every farmer 
that permits us to glean, nor is it a favour 
granted to every one.'* We passed on. 
** Ah,** said my fellow traveller, shrugging 
up his shoulders in railler}*, ^* this would be 
a charming country, if there were no men in 

In the evening we arrived at Oxford, 
about sixty miles north westerly from Lon- 
don, an inland city, famous all over the world 
as a nursery of great men, and great scholars. 
Oxford is particularty an object of curiosi^ 
on account of the variety of Gothick architec- 
ture. The colleges, twenty in number, are 
very large, and some of them noble Gothick 
buildings. Separated from each other at 
spacious distances, they give the city a most 
venerable and scdemn aspect. Oxford too 
has the happiness of being visited by the 
Thames, of all rivers in the world the most 
adored. ' The Hindoos do not hold the Gan- 
ges in higher veneration, than do the English 
this river, and should they become idc^aters 
they wouldpay divine honours to silver 
Thames. The Cherwelltoo, and the more 
humble Isis, are in the neighbourhood of 

We waited, in the mommg, on Mr. Por- 
tall. I cannot express to you how cordially 
he received us; he gave us two days of un- 
wearied attention. Himself a ripe scholar, 
and what is more, a man of £^K>d sense^ 
seemed to partake of that satisfaction which 
he afforded, in shewing us every thing re- 
markable in the different colleges, which he 
rendered doubly impressive bv adding aU 
the interesting particulars which have been 
collecting for ages. 

The Bodleian Library, the largest in the 
world, except that of th« Vatican at Rome, 
contains many precious, unillumined manu- 
scripts, which, no doubt, in the course of 
centuries^ will enrapture many an antiquary; 
as will the Arundehan marbles lately arrived 
from the East. These fragments were im- 
ported at a great expense, and in all proba- 
bility, when ^ey are deciphered, will amount 
to nothing more, than some loose couplets to 
a favourite mistress, or, what is more perni- 
cious, the apotheosis of some tyrant. 

Some of these manuscripts are so exceed- 
ingly valuable, it is not yet ascertained in 
what language they are written. It is told 
with considerable humour, that one of them 
was presented to a famous antiquary, who, 
after six moodiSi returned it with a serious 

opinion that, ^^ The manuscript was a rami- 
fication of a branch of a dialect of that lan- 
guage, which the northern Huns spoke, who 
broke down the Great Wall of China.** 

This immense library was to me a source 
of various reflection. Here, thought I, is 
collected not a little of the nonsense of the 
days of monkery, much of the truth and 
falsehood of antiquity, the romantick extra- 
vagance of the days of chivalry; " which 
now, alas! are gone forever!'* and the more 
dangerous because more subtle, dictates of 
modern tyranny. The wonderful exertion 
of the human mind which this library dis- 
covered, produced a mingled emotion of adT- 
miration, pity and contempt for the sublimi- 
ty, perversion and meanness of the race of 
philosophers and authors. Nine-tenths of 
the volumes, here laid up in literary penance, 
ought to have sent their authors to bedlam; 
for, ev^ry famous bpok filled with more er- 
rours than truths, adds a new link to the 
chain of errour; and notwithstanding truth is 
eternal, and errour temporary*, yet, owing to 
self-interest, passicm and wrongheadedness^ 
there are in all countries ten errours ptriilish- 
ed for one truth; hence, we ought not to 
wonder at the doubt in which men of sense 
are involved, nor at the inconsistencies into 
which the thoughtless fall. For truth and 
errou^- are at first received by mankind with 
equal credit, and when these' ten errours arc 
discovered, the solitary truth is not secure, 
for they in resentment turn persecutors. 

Your fancy cannot figure, either in Arca- 
dia, or in imaginary Parnassus, more charm- 
ing retreats for contemplation, or more in- 
spiring recesses to build the lofty composi- 
tion, than the secluded gardens of the col- 
leges affords Here, the peripateticks might 
have forgotten their favourite walks, or the 
more refined Epicurus and his disciples their 
earthly paradise. Here, art has successfully 
introduced the varieties of nature, and ad- 
ministers to the senses at the same time she 
ei^nds the heart and elevates the mind. No 
wonder this is dassick grotmd; no wonder 
this University is the nurser}* of so many 
veterans in the republick of leuers. Whether 
they prefer to contemplate mankind, explore 
nature through the various formation and use 
of the leaf, or leaving the physick garden, to 
ascend the heavens; they have withki their 
reach every assistance to esublish truth, or 
confute errour — ^Oxford has at present fifteen 
hundred students. 

Here is the largest collection of paintings, 
by the great masters, which I have ever 
seen. Some of the more publick apartments 
of the cblleges seem to revive the Italian and 
Flemish schools. Nor do the Dutch make 
an awkward appearance among the more 
southern artists; ahhougfa a Dutchman rare- 
ly considers his painting finished, until he 
has introduced a dirty ttible^ with pipes andi 
tobacco and a pot of geneva, together with a 
fishing smack in a fresh breeze; but if the 
latter cannot be introduced, he contents him- 
self to hang up a large ham and several 
pounds of Bcdogna sausages over the fire 

At four o*clock we dined with Mr. Por- 
tall, at St. John*t» widi several other fidlowo 

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■HI r ft'i 

•f that college. The apartment was decent, 
and the furniture elegaiit. The dinner was 
perhaps too sumptuous and gross for those 
who are labouring up the hill of science. It 
may be customary, but more probably it was 
a compliment to their guests: dinner was 
scarcely ended when cofke was introduced, 
and immediately after that, supper was on 
the table ; so we did not rise from dinner, 
coffee and supper until nearly ten o'clock. If 
these are usual habits, Aristippus would 
much oftener be found there, than Zeno.*— 
During the entertainment, questions were 
naturally multiplied respecting our own 
country. They seemed delighted, to hear 
Aat their own great men were perhaps more 
^nerally known and read in the United 
btates, than in England. It was a rom^ntick 
pleasure to imagine the reverberating echoes 
•f their own labours. In what they were plea- 
sed to term the wilderness: but they were 
not a litde surprised, when I told them, ex- 
cepting London, there were no cities in Eng- 
land which could vie with New- York, Phil- 
adelphia, or Boston. A regret was expressed 
that we were no longer the same people. I 
laughingly told thc^, that was their own 
fault, for the United States would doubtless, 
accept them as a colony. 

{To be continued.) 

TTie following pious reflections are the pro- 
ductions of a person about the twenty-third 
year of his age, and when labouring under 
the phthisis-pulmonalis, and hsemoptoe.— 
We are furnished with them by a near 
friend, and shall give them to our readers 
under the tide of the 


No. I. 

How do you understand that precept >of 
•ur Saviour, which says, " Do as ye would 
be done to?"— 1. Here you may observe, 
that the jbeasure we mete unto others, is not 
%» be directed by what other people actually 
do unto us; but by what we would that they 
should do to u§. If people did not allow and 
justify themselves in the measure of retalia- 
tion, so frequendy as they do, I should not 
be so particular in this distinction. Such a 
man refused to do me an act of beneficence, 
when it was in his power; and why should I 
do an office of kindness to him, when it is in 
mine^ Or he treated me with severity or 
cruelty, when he had the opportunity; and 
shall I not recompense him for it, in the 
aame kind or degree, when it is in my power? 
Such is not the language of a christian, but 
a heated spirit; not the language of reason, 
but of passion. For surely I cannot be justi- 
fied in doing the very thin^ I have condemn- 
ed in another. That which was«faultY in 
him, must jJso be faulty in myself. Christi* 
anity teaches us a better measure of regula- 
tmgour actions by, than that of other people's 
behaviour and usage towards us. " As ye 
would diat men should do unto you; do ye 
even so unto them.** ** For if ye love them 
that love you, what thank have you? Sinners 
also do the same." Again, " II ye do OTod 
t» thetlai which do gpo4 to jrou^ what thank 

have you ? for sinners do also the same. 
And if ye lend to them of whom ye hope to 
receive ; what thank have you ? for sinners 
also lend to sinners, to receive as much again. 
But Love ye your enemies.^^ Luke vi. 

Secondly, What we actually would that 
others should do unto us, is not in all cases 
a rule of our duty toward them. The law- 
fulness of the action is presupposed. It will 
not follow, as a consequence of mv being 
content or desirous of my neighbours doing 
or forbenring a thing, that I ought to do, or 
forbear the same thing in respect to another. 
That inclination or desire of mine must first 
be known to agree with the law of God* 

Thirdly, When we and others are in differ- 
ent circumstances, we are not obliged by this 
measure of action; to wit: doing to them the 
same things we desire or expect frcTm them: 
but doing the same things in our circumstan- 
ces, as we should expect from them, if t/iey 
were in our circumstances, and we in theirs. 
In the course of nature and providence, God 
hath placed men in different circumstances, 
stations, and conditions: and each of these 
has peculiar duties of its own attached to 
itself: which every one ought to discover, as 
far as it respects the peculiarity of his sta- 
tion, or circumstances. 

Finally, The sense of our Lord's maxim 
amounts to this : In all your dealings with 
men, suppose yourselves in the same particu- 
lar state and circumstances they are in; and 
then think what kindnesses, what allowances 
you would reckon yourselves to have a just 
claim to expect from their hands, if they 


in your case and you in theirs. Some 
man may say, "Were I in such a man's 
circumstance, and he in mine, I could give 
him such things;" and at the same time 
knows in his heart, he would not give them 
tohim; — ^he covets— he does not as he would 
be done by; and breaks the commandment. 
We should never allow ourselves to do that 
to others, which we account injurious, and a 
matter of Just complaint in our own case. 
We are not obligated to do all thai to others, 
which we might probably be glad that they 
would do to us, if we were in their case, and 
they in ours: but all that we could expect 
from them as a matter tf right and duty. 
Undoubtedly any poor man would be glad 
that a rich man would not only supply his 
necessity, but give him the greatest part of 
his estate. But this would not be reasonable, 
and is not what our Saviour intended by do- 
ing as we would be done to. 

A man in Forris, who was blind from his 
infancy, and whose ingenuity in mechanicks 
has excited much astonishment, was lately 
committed to a gaol, on a charge of entering 
into several shops by means of keys which 
he made for the purpose, and carrying off 
goods of every descnption. It is said, that 
owing to the peculiar construction of one of 
the locks he had devoted a great proportion 
of three years in making a key to fit it. 

. Lon* Pap» 

The height of ability consists in a thorough 
knowledge of the real value of things^ and 
the genius of the age we live ia. 

Instances of Extraor^nary MevMrtes. 

QT If true/ 
It is related of Themistodes, that his 
memory was so wonderfvilly retentive, that 
he recollected every thing whichhe either 
saw or heard. Simonides the poet once iw 
formed him of some newly discovered mode 
of forming a memory, **I had much rather," 
replied Themistocles, ^^ you would teach me 
the art of forgetfulness.'' 

Theodectes, it is said, was able to repeat 
immediately any number of verses that 
might be first mentioned to him, from only 
once hearing them% 

Seneca, the rhetorician, speaking of his 
own memory, says that it was almost mirac- 
ulous : for he could repeat two thousand 
names in the precise order in which the^ 
were spoken to him, and upwards of two. 
hundred verses, delivered by as many dif- 
ferent persons, beginning at die last and go- 
ing through to the first. Nor was it leaa 
wonderful in retaining for a length of tim^ 
than for a short time. 

Hortensius sitting at Rome in the market 
place for a whole day together, recited in 
order all the things that were S0I4 there; 
their price, and the names of the buyers. 

Lucius LucuUus, a great captain and phi- 
losopher, was able to give a ready account oi 
all affairs abroad and at home. Cicero com- 
mends the memory of Hortensius for wordsy 
that of LucuUus for things. 

J. Lipsius offered in the presence of the 
German prince thus : ^^ Sit here with a pon- 
iard, and if in repeating Tacitus aU over, I 
shall miss but one word, stab me-^Iwill 
freely open my breast.*' 

Joseph Scaliger in two days committed all 
Homer to his memory* 

Muretus tells us of a young man of Cor- 
sica, a student of the civil law in Padua, who 
would repeat thirty-six thousand LatiiiVf 
Greek, or Barbarian words, significant or 
insignificant, upon once hearing, without any 
hesitation, in what order soever the person 
pleased. Muretus says he made trial of him 
himself several times, and avers it to be 

A London Gazette announces a commis^ 
sion of bankruptcy, issued against a peraoa 
in the Land of promise! If dockets were to 
be struck against all in that extensive dis* 
trict, the sheets of the Gazette would soon 
swell to the size of the statutes. 

Authentick Etymobgy. 

A jolly West Indian when the neighbour^ 
ing girls visited at his house, used to treat 
them with the syrup made from the cane and 
frequendy would exclaim, " My lasses.'* 
Hence the name Molasses. Few words have 
aberrated from their primary less. 

DomesticA Manufactures. 

There has been made in die town of M^ad- 
viUe, this year, between seven and eight 
hundred gidlons of currant wine, litde infe* 
riour in flavour, body, and appearance to the 
best sherry. The average cost of dm wine . 
will not exceed fifty cents per giil]flB» 

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The monQmcQt is a proud pile, distant 
from the palace, about half a mile. It expres- 
ses on one side, all Churchiirs merits as a 
soldier; and on another side is given an 
extract from the Act of Parliament, prcsentr 
ing Blenheim House and domain to John 
Churchill, &c. 

We now turned, and approached the man- 
sion. The powdered gentleman began to 
discourse on its architecture, which he 
thought rather too low and heavy, but added, 
** It was in the usual style of Sir John Van- 
brugh, not forgetting the epitaph, 

*'Lay heavy on him Earth » for he 
Laid many a heavy load on thee." 

At the gate of the palace there were five 
other visiters, waiting to view the apart- 
ments. Between the hours of two and tour, 
the family retire in order to accommodate 

. There was nothing in the palace worthy 
of particular notice, except a collection .of 
pictures, many of them by the Italian and 
Flemish masters, which had been presented 
to the first Duke of Marlborough: some few 
of the paintmgs were on a large scale, exhi- 
biting his own exploits. Here is the largest 
librarj'^, except the Bodleian, which I have 
ever seen; but the neglected appearance of 
the books did very little honour to their 
authors. The dining room, and dining table, 
which was set for diuner, were simply ele- 
gant, as was her Grace's bedchamber. — ^The 
powdered gentleman endeavoured to per- 
suade us to admire the damask bed quilt, the 
history of which consumed some time. He 
had now completed his usual circuit, and 
having received his exactions, the amount of 
which would have maintained the first Duke 
of Marlborough a week, we were dismissed 
into the hands of the keeper of the park, who 
finished his official duties with another de- 
mand.— Here I had another opportunity of 
observing how nearly, sometimes, the height 
of greatness is allied to the lowest meanness. 

I should despise that man, in the United 
States, who would condescend to raise a re- 
venue on the curiosity, either of his own 
countrymen, or of strangers. 

This system of exaction runs down from 
the royal palace to the waiter at the coflFee 
bouse, or inore humble ordinary. It cannot 
be supposed that their Majesties, or the 
Duke of Marlborough, lease out these lucra- 
tive offices: but in the lower ranks of society, 
they are objects of speculation. One of the 
waiters, at a London coffee house, informed 
me he paid a weekly salary of eight shillings 
sterling to his master^, for his place! This 
needs no comment* I just add, that with a 
few exceptions, you find, in England, but 
two sorts of people; beggars by privilege, 
and their co-relatives, beggars from neces- 
sity* Adieu. 


Two gates the silent hoase of sleep adorn. 
Of poUsh*d iv'ry this, that of transparent horn: 
True visions throngh transparent horn arise. 

Mr. Recorder, 
A few evenings since, after having spent 
sometime in a numerous company of both 


sexes, wherje the Recorder was the subject ot 
conversation, I retired to my room ano 
amused myself till bed time, in reading the 
account of the masquerade in Cecilia. After 
I had sunk into the arms of Morpheus, I had 
the following dream, which I hope you will 
consider worthy a place in your very enter- 
taining and useful paper. Many of the ob- 
servations that had been made during the 
evening upon your productions were still in 
my remembrance, and from the work with 
which I had just been amusing myself, I re- 
tained some ideas, that by their union form- 
ed the present fantastick assemblage of truth 
and fiction. Fancy, chance, or some unac- 
countable cause, appropriated the various 
remarks I had heard to the diflferent charac- 
ters of the Novel. The irrtgularity of dreams, 
and the strange combination that formed the 
present extraordinary one, will account for 
my mentioning persons who only existed in 
my imagination; for my bringing some to the 
masquerade, who were in reality absent; and 
for the diversity which may exist between 
characters as they appeared to me, and as 
they are described by Miss Bumey. They 
would naturally partake in some degree, of 
the nature of those in whose company I had 

I fancied myself in the masquerade room 
in company with Cecilia, the white Domino, 
and others. Morrice, after his unfortunate 
attempt to display his agility, his disagree- 
able flogging from Monckton, and his sub- 
sequent precipitate retreat, had returned to 
the company with pne of your papers in his 
hand. This pragmatical and forward youth, 
with impudence enough to assert and act 
without any regard to propriety or politeness, 
and whose con tern ptibility of character had 
frequentlypreserved him from merited chas- 
tisement, with an impudent smirk, ran up to 
the modest and timid Mr. Arnott, and asked 
him, if he were not the author of the Re- 
corder? Mr. Arnott gave him a simple de- 
nial; but Mr. Gosport and the white Domino 
gave him a look, which as plainly as words, 
bespoke the contempt in which they held 
him. This Morrice it appears, is a lineal 
descendent of Balaam's ass; for he can talk, 
but will not progress. Sometimes however, 
like a mettlesome steed, he goes sidewise. 
Morrice no way abashed at his reception, 
turned on his heel witK a laugh, and com- 
menced a conversation with Miss Larolles. 
She was still in the habit of Minerva, which, 
from its being so extremely appropriate to 
her character, had already excited consider- 
able diversion. This young lady, whose 
understanding was little superiour to that of 
Morrice, received this mark of attention 
even from hint with apparent pleasure. Like 
him she was particularly desirous of ascer- 
taining who was the author; but having 
some ambition to appear as a critick, and 
ignorant that criticism implied any thing 
more than censure,she condemned the whole 
as insipid nonsense. As I was perfectly 
acquainted with her inability to judge of the 
merits of any performance, her boldness in 
assertion astonished me a little; but the white 
Domino soon- after informed me, that she 
retailed the expressions imd ideas of her 

friend Miss Leeson, to whom I shall pre- 
sently allude. Morrice next informed her 
of his suspicions of the author* Miss La- 
rolles, though conscious that no regard was 
to be paid to his word, even though he pos- 
sessed accurate information, and convinced 
that if he knew toy thing about it, he must 
have obtained his information by mean, dis- 
iiunourable measures, catched at the straw, 
and acquiesced with him in opinion. 

yJVIiss Leeson was the pefson whom Mor- 
rice next addressed. This lady appeared 
not to possess quite so much taciturnity as 
Miss Bumey allows her; but in loquacity 
was little short of Miss Larolles. She ap- 
peared at the masquerade in the face dame 
Nature had given her; though few would 
have been more improved by a mask. In 
her disposition, tnere existed but a small por- 
tion of sweetness; mistaking sarcasm for 
wit, satire for sense, and illnatured illiberali- 
ty for profundity of remark; she received the 
charming youth with an expressive smile. In 
answer to what Morrice informed her, she 
indulged herself in extensive observations;, 
acrimonious censures were heaped upon the 
Recorder, a few, but wretched puns made, 
and the devoted work condemned to ignom iny 
and oblivion. **I would advise Mr. Recorder 
to record no more, it has vtry litde original- 
ity of sentiment or expression," with other 
equally amusing and interesting ideas, com- 
posed the sum toud of her critique. Then 
turning round to Miss Arundel, who had 
just come in and sat next to her, she began 
the following conversation : ** Well, Miss 
Arundel, you have just come in good time 
— ^you are fond of Romance, and we are just 
now criticising about a romantick piece of 
jingle in the Recorder ; I understand you 
are the author*' — ' Pngh, child," returned 
Miss Arundel, " I have no hand in it — ^why 
you are back-biting me before my face" — 
" Well, what do you think of it?"—*' Think 
of it, indeed, I have just looked over a few 
lilies, but it is all trash. But may be the au- 
thor may hear us, I don't like to say any thing 
of this kind without knowing who hears, I 
don't like to speak my mind in the dark.**-— 
" But," said sir Robert Floyer, *4f any man 
puts what he writes in a newspaper, I don't 
see what right he has to take offence at what 
is said. I should like to see him call me to an 
account for what I say-— I say it's all flat." 
At this moment) who of all the world should 
come up but Briggs, with his rabbit fur cap 
and floundering boots. — I thought of 

«* Great minds by instinct to tach oUier fly**— 
and smiled 

{To be continued.) 


No. II. 

Hoto does faith Justify? 

Faith, which is the g^ft of God, justifies 

us by its being the instituted measure of our 

obtaining an interest in what Christ has done 

and suffered for us. With the heart man 

believeth unto righteousness; and with the 

mouth confession is made unto salvation. 

By faith we are espoused to Christ, and in 

this way his benefits are dispensed to us.— 

The Lord Jesus Christ has performed a per- 

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feet obedience for us. He has purchased 
salvation for all who are interested in that 
obedience. He has suffered all that the law 
required; and fully answered its penal de- 
^xnands. He who knew no sin, has been made 
sin for U3» and has borne our sins in his 
own body upon the cross* 

By faith wc obtain an actual interest in 
hira, and become clothed with his righteous- 
ness. In this respect we are said to be jus- 
tified by faith. The gospel proclaims ihe 
happy tidings of Christ and redemption; and 
faith embraces and entertains this joyful and 
glorious proclamation. The gospel makes 
a free tender of salvation to sucn sinners as 
are sensible of its need and willing to receive 
^it. Faith readily embraces the offer, and 
receives the tendered Saviour on his own 
terms. The gospel proposes Christ*^ righte- 
ousness and that only tor our justification: 
Faith makes us esteem all things ^s dross 
and dung, ^hat we may win Christ, and be 
found in him. The gospel requires a life of 
holy obedience unjo God, as a proper fruit 
and evidence of faith, as>a testimony of our 
acceptance of this offered Saviour, and of our 
gratitude to him ; and true faith produces 
this happy effuct wherever it exists; purify- 
ing the heart, and working by that love which 
fulfils the law. So that faith is every thing — 
a compliance with what the gospel requires. 
Christ is the eiid oit)^t. law for righteousness 
to every one that believeth : He that lives by 
the faith of the Son of God, is no longer 
under the law, but under grace: he is no 
longer considered as in Adam, by whose 
disoi)edience he is made a sinner; but as in 
Christ, by whose obedience he is made 
righteous. Thus faith brings us pardon; 
it is as a hand to lay hold of salvation. It 
unites the soul to Christ ; interests it in his 
perfect obedience, and makes his righteous- 
ness ours* 


Of all arts, tillage, or agriculture, is doubt- 
less the most useful and necessar}% It is 
the nursing father of the state. The cultiva- 
tion of the earth causes it to produce an infi- 
nite increase; it forms the surest resource, 
and the most solid fund of riches and com- 
merce, for the people who enjoy a happy 

We are informed that the fly which is so 
destructive to wheat, may, in a great mea- 
sure, be destroyed at this season of the year, 
by burning the stubble; by this means the 
eggs which are deposited in the stalk near 
the ground will be effectually destroyed. 
This method is so easily effected, that it is 
certainly worth a trial. The ashes at the 
same time will be very good manure. 

Pittsburg Gaz. 

Peter Bauduy, near Wilmington, (Dela.) 
who owns a flock of six hundred sheep, full- 
blooded Merinos and mixed, has imported 
a shepherd from France, and the much noted 
shepherd dogs from Spain. In the neigh- 
bourhood of Wilmington, patriotism and 
publick spirit is unparalleled in raising and 
^procuring Merino sheep. 


Reflecting on the great abundance of ap- 
ples, peaches^ pears, &c. — wishing they 
might not be wasted when given us by a good 
providence, and desirous they should be re- 
ally a blessing as intended, I thought I would 
suggest to Farmers the propriety of their 
adopting an excellent method of drj'ing these 
fruits as practised by Thomas Belanjee, 
of Egg-Harbour. He has a small house 
with a stove in it; and the sides of 
the house lathed at their bottoms. Each 
drawer will hold near half a bushel of cut 
peaches, which are rip^, and not pealed, but 
cut in two, and laid on the lath with their 
skins downwards so as to save the juice. On 
shoving the drawer in they are soon dried 
by the hot air of the stove, and laid up. 
Peaches thus dried are clear from fly-dung, 
excellently flavoured, and command a high 
price in market. Pears thus dried eat like 
raisins. With a paring machine, which may 
be had for a dollar or twQ, apples and pears 
may be pared and a sufiBcient quantity dried 
to keep a family in pies, and apple bread and 
milk, till apples come twice* And this may 
be necessary if we fail in apples next year as 
I expect. With a paring machine, I have 
frequently pared for five or six cutters. I 
have seen one person pare fifteen apples in a 
minute.- Ten in a minute are 6CX) an houry 
and a cutting machine; worth perhaps fifty 
cents, will cut as fast as the most expert can 

A barrel of cider or vinegar will sell for 
much more than the liquor one gets on a bar- 
rel — Two gallons of apple brandy may sell 
for a dollar or 1.50 cents; when a barrel of 
cider or vinegar will bring 2, 3, and 4 dollars. 
Spirits are no nourishment, if a man could 
starve longer without than with them, or 
live longer on nothing but water; why then 
are they used to the injury of civil and reli- 
gious institutions, principles and practice? 
and it is a pity any pious person should be 
principal or accessory to the distillation of 
apple brandy; but the distiUation of whiskey 
from grain offers the people poison, while it 
defrauds the poor of bread: and is grievous 
in contemplation to a benevolent soul. 

Therefore,! am heartily desirous that our 
well disposed farmers should receive the fa- 
vours of Providence, in such a way as to be 
blessings to all; cut and dry their peaches, 
pears and apples— -Make the rest into cider, 
cider-wine, boiled cider, cider molasses, 
which may be improved by sugar, apple com- 
fits, &C. POMONA PHILO. 


8 mo. 1810. 

Trenton pap. 


England, in die course of the year 1805, 
produced 800 new literary works, France 
1150, and Germany not les9 than 4645, 
although in the Leipsick Catalogue for the 
Michaelmas Fair, 1000 works less were an- 
nounced than for 1804, among which are 
only 64 Novels, and 61 Almanacks. The 
most numerous class of books were those* on 
medicine and education. 

There is an hour on which the sun, 

V*i never shed his ray direct; 
An hoor, from which the shades of ni^ht 

Westward retire with due respect. 

An hour, on which, if from the east 
The moon should gaze with nnodrst brow; 

She onlv peeps with crescent eye. 
Nor dares her full broad face* to sHpw, 

The stars alone, from distance vast. 

Of all the glorious host of heaven, 
Full-orb'd, behold this sacred hour, 

To roan for noblest purpose gives: 

Hail favonr'd time? to thee was showa 

In former days, regard divine; 
Oft when the " solitary place** 

Received incarnate Godhead's shrine. 

Or when the mountain's lonely breast 
Was hush'd before its heavenly guest- 
Yes; then thou favoured hour wast there, 
A witness to the holy pray en 
Prayer not by man, nor made, nor heard, 
By Heaven alone inspired, to Heaven alone prefcrrU 

Then let thy presence stHI be sought, 

By those whom Jesus' blood has bought; 

Yes^ let the saint his slumbers break. 

And let all Zion's mourners wake; 
And as the hour progresses round, 
Perpetuate still the grateftil souiid. 

Of heavenly musick, praise and prayer; 
Or if too deep, with sorrow stung 

Their captive state they seem to mo^rn. 
Their harps upon the willow hung, 
They patient wait the promis*d mom;^ 
In patience be their soul possessed. 
In hope of that eternal rest 

Which knows nor grief nor heart corroding care; 

But let not him, whose feeble mind 
To vice, or folly, still inclin'd, 
Wakes but to tread the trodden ground > 
Of phantom fashion's tedious round, V 
In search of pleasures never found; 3 
To eat, to drink, to dress, to trifle, 
All sober, manly thought, to stifle; 

. Let bint not haste the veil to rend. 
Which silence o'er his folly draws. 
Nor with obstrep'rous step disturb 
Meek nature's reverential pause. 

Let sleep her peaceful poppies lend. 
While fancy paints instructive themei; 

•'Night visions may" his heart " befriend;" 
"Fatal," alas! \ii% ** snaking dreanu J* 

Yea, let him sleep; by his repose, 
The world shall rather gain than lose, 
Bat let the saint his slumbers break; 
And let the man of science wake. 

Te WooLMANS, rise, whose active zeal 
Still mindful of the gen'ral weal. 
Spumed at the cumbrous pomp of state. 
And knew in iittitf to be great. 

Diffase your rays, like those of mom. 
Though temperate, clear, tho' mUd, yet brigkt; 

From the wide realms of thoughtless folly. 
Dispel the mists of mental night! 

Co, teach the miser to be kind. 
Expand the spendthrift's narrow hearty 

Each shows alike the selfish mind; 
Each aas alike the sordid part. 

Go, teach the thoughless to reflect; 

To feel another's joy or woe; 
To the remotest nook of life. 

Oh! teach "the sense humane'* to flontl 

« Since trifles make the sum" of lifey 

And short indeed our latest date» 
Teach us to bound our views by troth; 

Teach oa in Utikif tohegre»t. 

Digitized by 






Far in the utmost west, and faintly seen 
f'rom Ombecilla's tallest pinnacle, 
. The hills are robed m forest that spreads wide, 
0*er many a league^ its silence and its shade. 

The traveller wandering through its trackless vales 
Loses the 6un*s blest guidance, and in vain 
Ills eyes are upward turned, in vain they seek 
The lode-star's sparkling ray, or zenithed moon: 
No sounds of Jcindly import greet him; bejisu 
IMiat prey on men beset him, and their roar 
With rushing torrents a dread concert keep. 
Here oft come hunters, armed for sylvan war. 
More perilous than the strife of spear witU spearx 
With houudsy and horn, and steeds in panoply. 
They come to rouse th^ monster from his den. 
Here oft the prince, with well appointed band. 
Keen for the arduous sport, doth beat the shades, 
Where lions, respited from hunger, crouch. 
And here the springing lyger he encounters; 
And numerous are the spoils of panthers grey, 
Of brindled lioness, and speckled pard, . 
And antlered hind, that deck his ghostly halls. 

And such unthrifty warfare, such rude sport, 
Next to man*killing, most delights his soul. 
Blood slakes his thirst; the cry of agony 
More sweetly wooes bis ear than harp, or voice 
Of choral angels; writhing pangs of babes, 
Pierced by steel-headed arrows^ feast his eyes. 
More richly than the rose, whose crimson dyes 
The cheek of virgin, when her bridal lamp 
Is lightedr^feasts the eye of him she loves. 

Deep bosom^ in these woods, in ancient time. 
There stood a fane, to the great mother earth 
By hands devout up-reared; a hilPs brood top 
It crowns, and circling torrents rush around. 
'Twas once a mansion, walled full high and strongs 
Within were sightly halls and doors embossed; 
But new, of all but old renown bereft. 
It stands a tott«ring crumbling ruin, grey 
With moss, and clad with ivy, and the yew 
Shades its high altars; gape forlorn its groves. 
Defaced and empty; for the gods t^at held 
The sway o'er Ombecilla*s infant years. 
Their hill-top fanes, their pageantry, their priests, 
Have vanished; and new gods, new priests, new rites, 
HaVe filled their place: a worship brought from far 
By pilgrim sages, whom the learned South 
Bred in her courts, and with persuasion armed. 
('To b$ corutnucd.j 


TUfoilcfwing One* are from the ten of a reformed tpartt- 
man: if they can be at all h^uenHalin inducing o^t 
to retinquUb **deteeted tporte tJbat one their pleasure to 
another" 9 pom,** tbeywU not have been written entirely 


Little Songster, thou, who cheerly 
O'er the meadows late wast flying. 

Warbling y^ned notes so clearly. 
Now, alas! art fluttVing, dying! 

Ah! thy bloody plumes reproach met 
Hadst thou ever done me wrong? 

No; but e>n while I approach^'d thee» 
I was welcomed with a song! 

Yes, I hear' thy chirps of anguish; 
• Oh! they eloquently chide; 
How plainly sptaks thy dying languish, 
*' I the sponman's victim died.** 

Bat dying songster, I will place thee 
'Neath this green-sod— —humble tomb! 

Here thy mourning mate shall trace thee, 
In 4he twilight's dusky gloom. 

When on yon bough he shall trill thee 

Many a requiem at eve; 
And reproaches him who kiU*d thce» 

Shall I-^can I fail to grieve? 

When I walk abroad to-morrow^ 

He shall hover o*er my head; 
And plaintive chant in notes of sorrow, 

•* Thcie lies tht iportjniui'fl victim dnd\^ 

The follaiung lines vtere subjoined by a friend^ immedi' 
ately after perusing the preceding. 

When he walks abroad to-morrow. 
Little songster, tune your throat; 

Greet him not with notes of sorrow- 
Whisper pleasure in each note. 

Though once he err'd and kill'd thy mate; 

Now he mourns in toixhing s. rains; 
Yes, he laments her ha)>less fate, 

And sadly sings o*er her remains. 

In his absence you may mourn; 

Near her tomb may chirp your cries; 
There at eve may sit forlorn 

Where the sportman*8 victim lies. 

But when he who caus'd thy woes 

Returns, repents his cruel part. 
Let each note that from thee tiows. 

Convey forgiveness to his heart. 

t^nhappy bird! forgive the deed. 

Which robb'd thee of thy faithful fair, 

No more to kill he'll range the mead. 
No more he*U pari a happy pair. 

< But little songster, should he rove 
To murder harmless birds again, 

Then let this echo through the grove, 
** Oh may the sportsman miss his aiml** 

Sept. 1810. 



When through life unblest we rove. 

Losing all that made life dear. 
Should some notes we used to love 

In days of boy-hood, meet our ear. 
Oh! how welcome breathes ihe strain! 

Waking thoughts that long have slept; 
Kindling former smiles again 

In faded eyes that long have wept! 

Like the gale, that sighs along 

Beds of oriental flowers. 
In tht gprateful breath of song. 

That once was heard in happier houri, 
Fill*d^with balm, the gale sighs on, 

Tho* the flowers have sunk in death; 
So, when pleasure's dream is gone, 

Its memory lives in musick's breath! 

Musick !*oh ! how faint, ho\jr weak 

Language fades before thy spell ! 
Why should feeling ever speak. 

When tliou canst breathe her soul so well. 
Friendship's balmy words may feign, 

Love*s are ev'n more false than they; 
Oh! 'tis only Musick's strain 

Can sweetly sooth and not betray! 

Sometime ago, a son of Hibemia, an itinerant deal- 
er in drapery ^>ods, put up at the sign of the Dolphin, 
in Newcastle under-Lyme. Going out in the after- 
noon and conceiving his business might detain him 
rather later than usual, he requested the landlord to 
wait for him until eleven o'clock. This was promis- 
ed, but Pat forgot the hour, and did not return till 
twelve, when finding the door fastened, and the family 
all in bed, he immediately crossed the road, and, seiz- 
ing the knocker of an opposite door, began to knock 
most fiinously. The noise soon awoke Uie gentleman 
of the house, who in great sqrprise opened the window 
and inquired the reason of the disturbance. Pat re- 
plied, ** It is only 1, your honour; i don't Qiean to dis- 
turb you; I lodge at the s^ of ihe Big Fiih, but the 
landlord beii^ in bed and the door made fast, I have 
only borrowed the loan of your knooker to ooif hinii that's 



The celebrated Cobbet, we hear, has been constrain- 
ed to t»kB lodgings io Newgate, for » couple of years, 

and pays ;f 1000 sterling rent — A most distressing 6re 
broke out in the city ot Constantinople, by which it U 
said 30,000 of the inhabitants are deprived of a shelter 
— Consklerable.imerest is excited, both in England and 
France, concerning an exchange of prisoneis, a nego- 
tiation for which has some time since commenced be- 
tween the two powers It is rej)orted that the basis of 
the negotiation is agreed on. 

The princess Pauline of Schwartzenburg, at a fete 
lately given to Buonaparte and his empress by the Aus- 
trian ambassador, was burnt to death, the tdifice hav- 
ing taken fire by accident, or moft properly, by care- 
lessness — Very great alterauons seem about to take 
place in the Spanish colonies in South America and the 


The British frigate Venus has had a passage of 45 
days from Falmouth, and has brought Mr. Morier, 
the British charge des afla res, to this country. — Froin 
several places eastward, vve are informed that thehea* 
v> rains have occasioned great damage, and raised 
the waters higher than ever remembered by the oldest 
inhabitants. — A duel waslately fought at Bladensburg, 
near the Federal city, occasioned by political bicker- 
ings; one of the parties was wounded, and has since 
deceased.— The completion of the Bridge across Ash- 
ley River, at Charlei»ron, S C is announced. It is 
built upon 98 sections, 5 piers each: its length is 2187 
feet, its width 33 feet, and to be lighted with 40 lamps. 
—An extensive bed of Plaister of Paris has been dis- 
covered at Sullivan, N. Y. 

To Subscribers and Correspondents.. 

The Editor of the Rural Visiter hath been sensibly 
impressed with an anxious solicitude, respecting the 
result of a new undertaking, involving important con- 
siderations both to himself and society. At its pre- 
sent stage of advancement, he presents his unfeigned 
thanks to those respectable persons of both sexes, who 
have furnished him with considerable original and 
selected matter, gratifying to his own taste, and also 
he hopes to that of his readers. He very much regreu, 
that the limits of his paper oblige him to suppress a 
large portion of both literary and agricultural commu- 
nications which merit insertion, and would add much 
to the variety which is an important conskleration ii% 
publications of this kind. 

These circumstances, with every probability of an 
increasing accumulation of valuable matter, suggest to 
the Editor a proposition to such of hissnbscribers wh« 
may be disposed to encourage him, to furnish two ad- 
ditional pages weekly; i e. making six pages weekly, 
instead of four which are now printed. The extra 
charge he will only make sixty-two and an ha/fcenu. 
He will commence this additional sheet, if the plan is 
ap{)roved« with the lOth or l3th number, giving time 
for all who do not favour the addition to send their 
names in writing to the persons of whom they receive 
their papers, and these will subserve the interest of the 
establishment and oblige the Editor, carefully to pre- 
serve and forward them to his office, that he may take 
measures for the continuance of their numbers ai 

The Editor havine" in vain applied to the venerable 
and ancient Itnham for directions relative to the Cri- 
tical Masquerade, was obliged to con9ult his own 
judgment; there he gladly discovered no perplexing 
taciturnity ; the instructions were prompt : Publish 
it, and present thy thanks to the ingenious author. 

Some of our friends must excuse us the impractica* 
bility of inserting their valuable offerings for want of 
room; others for a temporary postponement. 


A Stable and Hay Homey vnth some Fencing 
md Manure^ 

The above mast be moved oiT the premises in a 
month from the purchase. There is a conskierable 
quantity of good timber in the staUe. Inquire at the 
office of the K. Visiter. 

Published Weekly ^ by D. Allinson^ 

«1TT or BVELlNOTOir, ». J, 

Prioe two dollars a year^-one half payable in Ummu^ 
the otiier iasix moitlis. 

Digitized by 



*• Homo sum ; humani nihil a me aHenum fitOoJ^ — Man and his cares tome a man^ are dear. 



No. 8. 

No. V. 

Nescio qidk prater solitum dulocdine laeti. 

The virtues, and heroick qualities of dis- 
tinguished personages, may excite our admi- 
ration and command applause; and in the 
lives of those illustrious characters who are 
justly celebrated for their powers of genius, 
and the extent of their capacities, we behold 
^nany incentives to virtue and examples wor- 
thy of imitation. But the events of private 
and domesticksituations are of all others most 
apt to interest the feelings and affect the 
heart. The humble merits of ordinary life, 
are those to which we bear a near relation, 
and to which every one may attain. Fcom 
these therefore, example may more readily 
be drawn, and precept more powerfully en- 

Mr. S is one of those whose friend- 

ship I enjoyed in early life. The superiority 
of his mind and his extensive knowledge of 
die world render his friendship truly vdua- 
ble, and eminently qualify him to act the part 
of a counsellor smd a friend. When enter- 
ing into life, at a period when the sanguine 
disposition of my youth presented many 
false and delusive hopes, he imparted to me 
many salutary lessons. I have enjoyed an 
intimate acquaintance with him tor years, 
and from his sincere and dismterested friend- 
ship, have received many advantages which 
excite my wannest gratitude. It nas been 
a long time his misfortune to be afflicted by 
infirmity of health. But such is the activity 
and power of his mind, that a small portion 
only of his time is suffered to pass unemployed. 
Engaged in the pursuit of an arduous pro- 
fession, and in laborious studies, on which 
his mind delights to dwell, he is frequently 
in the ardour of bis pursuits carried beyond 
his strength, and obliged t^ desist; and when 
oppressed by the exertion of his mind, it 
becomes necessary for him to enjoy a few 
hours of ease and relaxation, his greatest 
pleasures flow from his domestickjoys. In 
the calm retirement of private life, I have 
seen him pass his happiest hours. Some 
years have now elapsed since he had the mis- 
fortilhe to deplore the loss of a lovely wife, 
who left him an only child, his daughter Ma- 
ria, who is in her twentieth year. Upon 
this kind and interesting partner of her fa- 
ther's joys, nature has l^stowed her choicest 
blessings. To the charms of beauty, she 
xmites superiority of mind. But wit and 
beauty form not her only charms. Her 
-virtues, her filial affection and goodness of 

heart, render her die delight of her father, 
and an ornament to her sex. The education 
of his lovely daughter has been for years her 
father's greatest pleasure; and with anxious 
solicitude and lively interest has he watched 
the pjrogress of her mind. His endeavours 
have been amply rewarded by her advances 
in intellectual improvement, and her mind 
has become stored widi useful knowledge. 
Beside diese attainments, every accompli^- 
meut that can give grace and elegance to the 
female character has been bestowed upon 

Such signal benefits and parental fondness 
naturaUy excite in the heart of Maria the 
most sincere affection and warmest gratitude. 
To promote her father's happiness, to please 
and comfort hinri, is her greatest pleasure, 
and the study of ner life. With filial tender- 
ness and constant care does she attend him 
in those hours of pain and sickness, which 
frequently afflict him. Upon such an occa- 
sion, how truly good and amiable she ap- 
pears, and what ardent and sincere affection 
is here evinced! Never in my life, have I 
seen any thing more lovely. To see her 
oppressed with grief, forgetting every con- 
cern but her father's illness, and extending 
towards him the most endearing attentions, 
fills me with admiration, and while admiring 
the virtues of this lovely and interesting girl, 
her father's sufferings are for a moment un- 
thoughtof and forgotten. 

The charms and virtues of Maria attract 
the admiration and esteem of all who know 
her. 'Endowed by nature with a gay and 
sprightly mind, she is formed at once to re- 
ceive and impart pleasure in the society 
wherein she delights to mix. The gay and 
dissipated scenes of life in which she is emi- 
nently qualified to shine, present to her ima- 
gination many attractions and delights. 
But when her father's sickness requires her 
attention and support, she sacrifices every 
pleasure and amusement to affection and to 

There is, I think, an excellence and mag- 
nanimity in the virtues of the female sex, 
rarely to be met with among men. The he- 
roick actions of kings and princes, and the 
virtues of men in general, are attended with 
circumstances which diminish their real me- 
rit. And in the lives of those great and 
illustrious characters which history records, 
we behold some motive of ambition, of in- 
terest or of fame, to animate and to guids 
them. But when Maria sacrifices every 
pleasure and enjoyment to filial tenderness 
and affection; when abandoning the world 
and all its charms, we behold her bestowing 
her time and attention to her father, and her 
friend,she can have no external circun^stance 

to influence her conduct. Her virtue is the 
pure, umningled effect of affection and of 
duty. T. 

Thoughts on ffistortfj Biography^ 


I was pleased to find in the fourth number 
of die Recorder, an advocate for a species of 
reading which I have often regretted was so 
much neglected in selections for the use of 
3roung persons. It appears to me, however, 
that discrimination is almost as necessary in 
this, as in novels; the majority of which die 
Recorder so jusdy condemns. Inhowm^uay 
of the celebrated characters portrayed by the 
pen of the historian or biographer, <fo we be- 
hold some shining virtues, (if in trudithey 
sprung from a source which would entitle 
them to the name) accompanied by the most 
atrocious vices; and in some others, perhaps 
jusdy reckoned among men of genius, a cer- 
tain levity or dissoluteness of character (to 
say no more of it,) by no means compatible 
with the purity of Cmistian morals. Now 
the questions which naturally occur, on ma- 
king these observations, are. Whether, at a 
time of life when the passions are wanrt, the 
imagination lively and easily caught with 
the glare of the more splendid qualities of 
the mind, the judgment not yet habituated 
to accurate discrimination; the reading of 
such lives would not have a tendency to in- 
duce an imitation of the weaker pans of the 
character, an affectation of the exteriour, ra- 
ther than a noble emulation of what was 
really worthy, and which could not be ac- 
quired without the painful discipline of self- 
denialf for this, in snort, is the true test of 
virtue — Whether vicious associations might 
not thus be formed; that which was only ac- 
cidental, become, by frequendy seeing them 
connected, to be considered as necessary? 
Among the many instances which might 
be given of pernicious associations, we shall 
only notice ttiat of eccentricity with genius; 
though in truth it has no more to do with 
it than tyranny with power, or blood-shed 
with bravery. It is easy to ape the faults of 
genius; but genius itself is a gift, not an ac- 
quirement. It is easy too to puff ourselves 
up with a notion, that were we called to act 
our part on the great theatre of nations, 
we snould rival in magnanimity the heroes 
we admire, forgetting all the while^ that the 
virtues which are most useful, are those for 
which we have daily occasion, and that in- 
deed, the life of a private christian furnishes 
often as ample room for the exercise of true 
heroism as the more conspicuous paths of 
publick life; and With this additional praise 

Digitized by 




that virtue ia the former c^se is destitute of 
those collateral aids which are derived in the 
latter, from the plaudits of the world* 

"The private path, the secret acts of men 
IF noble, far the noblest of their liyes.^ 

TTiai virtue only has a greater claim to our 
veneration, which can enable a man in a pub- 
lick station to forego his well earned praise, 
md even to run the risk of forfeitmg his re- 
putation for those qualities which every man 
is desirous of being thought to possess, by 
steadily adhering to a plan of conduct, which 
his own superiour discretion had pointed 
out as productive of the greatest public]^ uti- 
lity. Such was the virtue of Washington, 
whose memory lives forever. Yet even this 
virtue derives much of its praise from its re- 
semblance to that of the private man, being 
like his, unsupported by popular applause, 
or standing in opposition to the prejudices of 
the multitude. 

But to return from this digression— How 
much of the fulsome, both in private and in 
publick life, from the pitch-penny t© the mo* 
narch, from the novel-reading chambermaid 
to the philosopher in his closet, may be attri- 
buted to false associations formed in early 
life; and how many of these false associations 
may be ultimately traced to history and bi- 

Let not the reader suppose that I am en- 
tering a caveat against this species of reading 
- — locAy plead for the propriety of a selection 
where youth are to be the readers, or at least 
for some suitable corrective for the dangerous 
tendency of particular parts: properly to dis- 
tinguish between a roan and his appendages, 
to weigh characters in the abstract indepen- 
dently of the circumstances by which they 
are exhibited, is a point to which the mass of 
mankind do not attain. 

«* We wisely strip the steed we mean to bt^*,*' 
But *• judge in their caparisons of men.'* 

As I would not recommend to the perusd 
of youth all that the biographer and historian 
have written, on the other hand, I would not 
indiscriminately condemn the works of the 
novelist. Some novels there axie which ap- 
pear well calculated to imbue the mind with 
just ideas of man and his duties. I know 
indeed that some object to aD fiction, and it 
is certain, fiction has often been made the 
means of disseminating the seeds of corrup- 
tion; and there are cases in which the general 
abuse of a thing may be a sound argument 
with a conscientious person for the disuise of 
it; yet in the present case, if I mistake not the 
nature of our Saviour's parables, we have 
high authority for the use of fiction as a plea- 
sant vehicle for instruction. 

It is however very far from my design to 
vindicate in general that multifarious tribe 
of books which comes under the common 
appellation of novels: I believe by far the 
greater number are of the most pernicious 
tendency, particularly that numerous class 
in which the reader is entertained with the 
history of the intrigues of some lewd earl, or 
dissipated baronet. It does not reconcile 
me to them to be informed, that such recitals 
are intended to excite an abhorrence of vice, 
or to warn the unwary against the snares 
that are laid for tben^ by tlic uopriocipkd-*- 

the heart, like a rebellious populace, is often 
at variance with its lawful ruler, the under- 
standing; and the former has often been cor- 
rupted by the very means which have been 
used to convince the latter. 

'* However disguised the inflammatory tale. 
And covered with a fine-spun specious veil. 
Such writers and such readers owe the gust 
And relish of their pleasure all to lust." 

On the other hand, of how many pages of 
histor)' and biography may it be said, that, 

-T—" What to oblivion better were resigned. 
Is hung on high to poison half mankind.'' 

Could we but look behind the scene, and 
observe the machinery which produces this 
brilliant display, how often would our admi- 
ration be turned to loathing— how many a 
bloated hero, under whose colossal legs we 
" peep about, to find ourselves dishonoiyrabk 
graves,'^ would be reduced to the stature of 
a pigmy! • 

Perhaps, then, the safest way of estimating 
the tendency of books in the same classes oi 
which so much diversity obtains, would be 
to consider them without reference to the 
title. L. 


C Continued from page 26. J 

" WcU, Mr. Briggs," said Miss Leeson, 

** how do you like the Recorder?*' Brigcs 

with great solemnity of.manner replied: "It*s 

all fal-lal— —It's not — worth — a brass farden 

1— -could — write — better myself."—— 

** Well, Mr. Briggs,'* observed the smiling 
charming Miss Leeson, " and why don't 
you write? You who are so great an author 
might surely enrich David's paper with some 
of your productions." Here Morrice, run- 
ning up with his boisterous laugh, called 
form some animadversions from Briggs, and 
I left this vulgar idiotick ribaldry so disgust- 
ing to my ears, and so disgraceful to those 
concerned in it, to listen to a conversation 
among people of taste and refinement upon 
the merits of the Recorder. The white 
Domino asked Cecilia what was her opinion 
respecting it. Cecilia replied that, **' any 
decision upon the merits of this production 
cannot as yet be otherwise than premature; 
few numbers of it have appeared, and though 
from what I have seen, I must consider it as 
the production of no ordinary writer; yet 
my opinion is formed, I confess, without suf- 
ficient consideration or opportunities for pas- 
sing a proper judgment upon it. But I ad- 
mire and applaud the moralit)^, purity, and 
excellence oi the sentiments inculcated, as 
well as the chastity and correctness of the 
style in which they are clothed." ** Yes," 
returned her companion, ** though no glitter- 
ing beau ties, no remarkably brilliant thoughts 
have been displaved, stiU there is a certain 
something which breathes through this work, 
which raises its character much above com- 
mon newspaper ephemeral essays. Those 
ideas which have not originalit}' to recom- 
mend them, are by a happy art of the author 
made his own, and I cannot but express m} 
acquiescence in an opinion that has been 
sanctioned by some of the first criticks, that 
more judgment and understanding is evinced 
in adopting with taste the ideas c£ others, 

than in forming ori^^nal ones. This has 
been done with much felicity by the author 
of the Recorder, and keen omst be the ob- 
servation of that critick who can see much to 
blame, and dull his perception who finds no- 
thing to admire in the productions of this 
author."— Mr. Amott expressed his concur- 
rence with the sentiments of the white Do- 
mino; but added he^ ^^ The motives whidi 
produced this publication, and the amiable 
and praiseworthy qualities which it evidem- 
fy shows belong to the writer, merit still 
more of our regard. Those selfish principles 
which actuate so many men, and bear a sway 
over so large a portion of mankind, seem to 
have no place in his bosom." Mn Belfield 
who had laid down his helmet and breast- 
plate, observed that, " The motives of the 
author must have been good* He could 
have expected no reward, and must have 
been assured of meeting much acrimony and 
severity of remark from the unfeeling and 
the ignorant. He must have been influenced 
merely by a desire to afibrd innocent amuse* 
ment and disseminate useful information. 
And I cannot but think that the persons who 
indulge themselves in detracting from the 
merits of a production of this nature, injure 
the cause of virtue and morality. The 
style in which it is written is sufficiently 
^od to please a cridck whose taste is not 
tastidious. Though not perfect, though 
not equal to th^ of Addison, still it pos- 
sesses many and great beauties, and few and 
inconsiderable imperfections, and show9 
that the author is intimately acquainted 
with the best writers, by a perusal of whose 
works his taste has been refined and his 
mind improved." " Yes," said Cecilia, 
** the idea which I have derived of the author 
of the Recorder from the papers that I have 
seen, is equally favourable to his understand- 
ing and his heart. Every attempt of this 
nature should meet with attention, and un- 
less impudence and vulgarity, or sentiments 
of an immoral tendency are displayed, eve- 
ry minor blemish should be regarded with 
a favourable eye." Mr. Gosport observ- 
ed that, " So far as his observation extend- 
ed, he had faund that criticks were severe 
in the same degree that they were iHibe- 
ral. The virulence of self-appointed and 
self-conceited criticks is ever m propor- 
tion to their ignorance. They whose tastes 
have been refined by the study of the best 
modek, who, by the cultivation of their 
minds, are capable of perceiving blemishes, 
Avill ever show that their hearts have been 
equally improved. 

Who that reads the admired and finished 
papers of the Spectator, the productions of 
the virtuous and amiable Addison, will fail 
to imbibe some portion of that benignant 
spirit which pervades that whole work? A 
delicacy of taste is never united with a mali- 
, cious or envious disposition. A person who 
looks only for faults may find, or fancy he 
finds, imperfections in the most ])f.rfect of 
compositions. But ask that pers(.T. tc point 
out the faults, and he betrays his inc t[)acity. 
Not being al>le to perceive any actuni 'rrours^ 
and fearful lest he should be estc4 n cd to 
possess litde judgment unless he condemnst 

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he takes shelter under some general observa- 
tion, such as,* It's all flat/ *t1ie ideas are 
all old,* ' poor stuff,* or some such expres- 
aion as proves either his ignorance or de- 
pravity. The truth is, the Recorder writes 
upon moral and literal^ subjects, and this 
may account for die dislike of some persons. 
An infidel seldom likes a sermon, or a fool a 
display of understanding.'* 

Cecilia and the white Domino bowed as- 
sent to these sentiments, Belfield's eyes 
glistened with -pleasure, and Morrice, who 
had with his accustomed propriety of beha- 
viour, listened and overheard what was said, 
for once was abashed. I awoke at the time, 
and determined to oflfer you the dream for 
insertion in the Recorder. Should occasion 
require, and should this meet with your 
approbation, I w ill hereafter attempt to dream 
another Masquerade. 

Tour well-wisher and admirer. 


The Editor of the Rural Visiter is wel- 
come to the following composition of Poor 
Pilgrim. I shall be well satisfied if I should 
hear of their exciting the commiseration of 
the well disposed, or of their stimulating 
thetn to progress in the gradual work of 
complete regeneration, gfowing therein from 
infancy to manhood, and to elders in the in- 
visible church. 

The Poor Pilgrim's pen is generally dip- 
ped in the dark ink of sorrow and serious- 
ness; though no doubt his heart has mosdy 
been the seat of tranquillity, and frequently 
of endearing joys. A christian may sorrow: 
for his ways in the world of mankind arc, 
through their wickedness, improperly impe- 
ded with briars and thorns, quagnnres and 
precipices. Men, wise in their own eyes, 
have pursued their own ways, and forsaken 
the Lord of life and fountain of all good, and 
have erected the governments of nations un- 
der the banners of the prince of this world, 
vfho slew Christ Jesus. Men, selfish in their 
love and inclinations, pursue their own sen- 
sual, avaricious, and ambitious desires, and 
hereby manifest that they hate God and their 
fellow men, whom they impoverish and op- 
press by the hand of force, fraud, and usur- 
pation. All nations have gone outof the way; 
they are corrupt and abominable in all their 
works, and not one of them is good» or 
belongs to the kingdom of our Lord or his 
Christ. For which of them oppress not; 
which of them has converted their swords 
into ploughshares, and their spears iny^ 
pruning-hooks, and learn the art of war no 

A christian has still greater reason to sor- 
row on his own account, when he sees and 
experiences the apostacy and corruption of 
his own heart and actions. Here is nothing 
belonging to selfthsit is good; and here war, 
pride, avarice, and folly reign. The world 
in miniature is in himself: and the work oT 
reformation in both— how slow, and how 

Be not discouraged. Poor Pilgrim^ God*s 
power is above all diinc adversaries. Let 
faith, hope and charity attend thy pilgrimage; 
^theaahaktbou contiiiae to weep and rejoice; 

to weep at the sufferings and follies of man- 
kind ; to rejoice at the love of God shed 
abroad in the heart, assuring thee God loves 
thee, and will reward thee with immortal 

How goodly is a Godly sorrow! It worketh 
a repentance not to be repented. How happy 
shall they be who mourn for sin, for surely 
they will be comforted. Mourners in Zion 
mourn not; but patiently wait and quietly 
hope for Uie salvation of the Lord, which 
will assuredly come if we faint not. 

The Poor Pilgrim's Friend. 


From Dr. Lathrop's Sermons. 

If it were true that there is no God, what 
evidence can the Atheist have, that he shall 
not exist and be miserable after death? How 
came he to exist at all ? Whatever was the 
cause of his existence here, may be the cause 
of his existence hereafter. Or if there is no 
cause, he may exist without a cause in ano- 
ther state, as well as in this. And if his 
corrupt heart and abominable works make 
him so unhappy here, that he had rather be 
annihilated, than run the hazard of a future 
existence; what hinders but he jnay be un- 
happy forever? The man, then, is a fool, 
who wishes there were no God, hoping thus 
to be secure from future misery; for admit- 
ting there were no God, still he may exist 
hereafter as well as here; and if he does 
exist, his corruptions and vices may.render 
him miserable eternally, as well as for the 

The most wretched state of Man. 

In a conference held bet^veen some Greek 
and Indian Philosophers, in the presence of 
Chofroes, king of Persia, the following ques- 
tion was proposed for solution? 

*^What is the most wretched state in which 
a man can find hhnself in this world?'^ 

A Greek philosopher said it was to pass a 
feeble old age i« the midst of extreme pover- 
ty. An Indian asserted that it was to suffer 
sickness of the body accompanied by pain of 
the mmd. As for me, said the vizier Buzur- 
gemir, I think that the greatest miseries a 
man can experience in this world, is to see 
himself near the close of life without having 
practised virtue. 

This opinion received the general appro- 
bation of this assembly of sages, and Cho- 
froes ordered that it should be engraved on 
a marble table, and fixed up in the principal 
square of Ispahan, to offer to the people a 
subject of meditation, and to remain an eter- 
nal lesson of wisdom. 

Time, which: devours all things, has de- 
stroyed this tablet; and in Persia, as with us, 
it is forgotten, That the greatest miseries in 
this world, is to approach the close of life 
without having practised virtue. 

The article of tea, for the London market 
alone, gives employment to about 3,000,000 
of the Chinese population, and to 20,000 
tons of English shipping, besides adding 
3,000,0001. annually to the revenue of G^at 

70ft THS ftlTRAL VXSlTBt. 

As lately I rov'd where the soft breezes pity, 

And gently -vere bending the trees. 
My only companions the insects of day, 

My musick the hum of the bees. 

Attentive I sat, and observed them pursue 
Unwearied, their fliglu through the field. 

Twas nectar they sought, and the riches the/ drew 
Pomona or Flora would yield: 

When soon I perceiv*d, amidst this busy throng, 

One bee, more expert than the rest. 
Who with his rich treasure 6ew gaily along, 

Nor secm'd with the burden oppress*d— 

Twas nature that prompted him thus to pursue, 

And rrftfTR to his duty again; 
For winter— ah! winter approached, and he knew 

That then 'twould be labour in vain. 

Twas Imham I saw, and distinguished with ease* 

He alone, would the mandate obey. 
Till aparty arose of gay clamourous Bees, 

And idly obstructed his way. 

Inactive^ these drones were still buzzing around, 

Pleasure only their object and care; 
They shar*d not his toil— or perhs^s would hare touiui 

Their elTorts all vanish in air: 

But soon a gay Wasp flew majestick along. 

With fancied importance elate; 
The party approach'd him. allur'd by his song. 

Ahl little suspecting their fate. 

Hope whi8per*d— perhaps his more high soaring wing, 

Will vary the dulness profounds 
But each of his victims ehcounter*d his Mt'tng^ 

On each^he inflicted a wound. 

I saw him exulting, ascend in the air. 

And alight on a neighbouHng tree. 
Then tum'd from this cause of their sorrow and care. 

And sought for my favourite Bee. 

Still busy, he fix'd on a soft blooming flowV, 
More sweet than the dawning of day, 

Regardless of foes^n the sun-shining hour 
He flew with the honey away. 


As lamps bum silent with unconscious light, 
So modest ease in beauty shines more bright; 
Unaiming channs, with edge resistless fall. 
And she who meant no mischief does it all. 

Sweet is the voice that sooths my care. 
The voice of love, the voice of song; 

The lyre that celebrates the fair, 
And animates the warlike throng. 

Sweet is the counsel of a friend, 
Whose bosom proves a pillow kind 

Whose mild persuasion brings an end 
To all the sorrows of the mind. 

Sweet is the breath of balmy spring, 

That lingers in the primrose vale; 
The wood-lark, sweet, when on the wing. 

His wild notes swell the rising gale. 
Sweet is the breeze that curls the lake. 

And early wafts the fragrant dew. 
Through hov'ring clouds of vapour breaks. 

And clears the bright ethereal blue. 

Sweet is the bean, the blooming pea. 
More fragrant than Arabia's gale 

That sleeps upon the tranquil f ^a. 
Or gently swells the extended sail. 

Sweet IS the walk where daisies sprinr 
And cowslips scent the vernal meadf 

The woodlands sweet where linnets sing. 
From ev'ry b(4d intruder freed. 

But far more sweet are vhtuous deeds; 

The hand that kindly brings relief. 
The heart that with the Widow bleeps. 

And shares the drooping Orphi n's gricC 
The pious and humaite here rise. 

With lib'ral hands, and feeling heart; 
fixA chase the tears from arrow's eytfr 

And bid e»9lt|i9sioiip woe depntr : 

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These grassy halls, unwindowed and unroofed* 
Arc fit for meditation; museful steps 
Would love to rove amid these mouldering aisles« 
To ponder on old time, man's fitful fife, 
And death that levels sUl thmgsi if the haunt 
\Vere empty of all beings else, and free 
From lurking mischief. But not so: for deep 
In narrow cell, within these bounds immured, 
There sits a hoary wight, deep versed in arts 
Of direful magick potent to control 
Great Nature's kingdom. There* on stony couch 
Heclined, he read Contingency's vast book» 
To those who dare the perils of the wood. 
And homage pay to necromantick power, 
He opes his lips expounding destiny. 

Great is the peril, for not beast alone. 
But savage man, prowls round this dark retreat; 
Wild men, and artless but in feats of war. 
Slow to all kindness, but to vengeance swift; 
With tongues unbroken to obsequious curb, 
With arms by rustick labour unsubdued, 
The Morglan hides his spoil amidst these hills. 

Ere Thusca and his children reached thes^ shoref , 
From hill to sea thts roalning race diffused 
Their ill-compacted tribes: hence to Montalvia's sons 
They bear the l^atred due to hostile men 
Who robbed them of their fair and wide domain. 
Unending war they wage, and oft molest, 
By violent incursion, e'en the walls 
Of Ombecilla, and their brazen trump 
Shakes all her hearts; but oftener have they found 
Graves In the 6elds their sword and brand had wasted. 
And oft, the tide of war against them flowing. 
The vengeful sword of Thusca's sons have left 
Nought but a meagre remnant of the race. 
To roe their mad ambition, and to brouze 
On Nature's poor provision, cooped in rocks. 

Alcestes ceased, and with him ceased the day. 
Now o'er the city, o'er the plains descend, 
Long drawn, the mantle, dew-besprent, of Eve; 
The moon-beams tremble on the Caspian wave; 
The hum of men, the bay of dogs, is hush'd. 
iilcep comes to heal all wounds: come then to me; 
Ancf thou, O Mose, seal thy inspired lips. 
The tenants of the cot to rest betake 
Their weary limbs; Valerian on his coach 
Sunk in soft slumbers, not unvisited * 
' Of-dreams, th^ whisper'd of futurity. 

EndofBook L 

JProm the Luzerne FederatisU 


Etefnat 6nd! and must 1 then no more 

Enjoy the sweets of iiberty and rest; 
Nor the TQv'd beauties of my cot explore, 

liVhere I liave liv'd so hap^y, hv'd so blest? 

And must thoae plants, t^ose flow'rs which once were 

And wbicJs in beauty do all art outvie. 
Taught by my hands around my lattice twine, 

Unfokl their blossoms to the stranger's eye? 

And shall I not again at dose of day 

My bosom's partner leaning on my arm, 
While pledges of our love in sportive play ' 

Attend us, walk around my little farm? 
Must I no more at this sweet hour prolong 

My rural walk along the deep'ning vale. 
And list attentive to the thrush's song. 

Or milk-maid's ditty borne upon the gale! 

'Hot on the beech-crown'd brow of some high hill. 
My station take to view the less'ning sail 

Anxious their destin'd voyage to fulfiC 
The sailors spreid their canvass to the gale! 

Or down the sloping cliff to wind my way, 
There on the sea beat rock to take my seati 

And pensive listen to the dashing sprays 
And mark the frothy surges' slow retreikt? 

Ah, no! these ioyi have vanish'd from my view* 
And no' fond hope of happiness appears^ 

for misery and vrretchedness pursue. 

And wanu press bard on my declining years. 

These were the joys which fortune once conferred 
How changed the acenel^uonc of them now re 
main;— -^ 

Here at the calm approach of night is heatd 
The dismal rattling of the pri&'ner's chwi. 

Whilst grating hinges of the massy doors. 
Appal the timid soul with soundb severe. 

And from the wretch as he his fate deplores, 
Dread imprecations do assail the ear. 

Almighty God! in pity deign to yield 

Strength to support me with this weight of care* 
For all my mortal pow'rs will scarcely shield 

My mind from aH the horrours of despair. 



A Lily of the silent vale. 

That flaunted in the summer gale. 

All nature challenged, far and nigh, 

With her celestial white to vie: 

The silver buds, and silken flow'rs. 

That grace the garden, groves, and bow'rs 

In competition durst not rise. 

But hung their heads and dos'd their eyes. 

Till Laura cropp'd it, as she stray'd. 

And on her snowy bosom laid; 

Then droop'd the proud one in despair, ' 

To find a spotless rival there. 



No radiant pearl which crusted fortune wears, 
Ko gem, that twinkling hangs from beauty's ears. 
Not the^1>rigbt stars, which night's blue atch adorn, 
Nor r^ing suns that gild the vernal mom. 
Shine with such htstre as the tear, that breaks 
For others' woe, down virtue's manly cheeks. 

A Turkish'Hyperbole. ' 

Persons in warm countries certainly pos- 
sess powers of imagination superiour to per- 
sons in colder climates. The following de- 
scription of a small room will appear very 
poetick to an English reader: ^^ I am now/' 
says a Turkish Spy, writing to his employers, 
^^ in an apartment so little, that the least sus- 
picion cannot enter it." 

This accords tolerably well with the story 
of the hunter; who, hearmg a rustling among 
the leaves, cocked his gun at the supposed 
^me ; when lo ! on closer inspection, he 
iound the noise proceeded from the dancing 
of a stick, so crooked that it could not lie 

To Subscribers and Correspondents* 

Wishing to keep true to our object, and now and 
then to recur to first principles; the Editor desires he 
may not offend any by rejecting their offers, and hopes 
none will present pieces for publication that are per- 
sonal A doubt rditfive to one or more paper* occa* 

sions their being suppressed. Let as make impirove- 
ment our object, and embrace the manner wtiich 
will render the means successful. 

The eni|;ma of S has certainly a daim to inseriioci. 
Its snowy purity would secure a place, but the £dlt«t 
fears that " mist«frosts" and " hoar-frosts," art too 
cold to be taken into a lady's Boudoir immediately 
after the raging reign of Sirius. 

Subscribers will please uke into consideratioa the 
proposition in our last number. 

The Editor acknowledges the polite attention of his 
numerous correspondents. He has received by the 
raatl various effusions of the votaries of the Nine.— 
But he begs leave to address these aury beings in the 
sententious and pithy words of the celebmted Jerry 

"Pay the Post-Boy, Muggins.'» 



The recall of Mr. Jackson, by his Britannick majes- 
ty, and the appointment of Mr. Morier secretary of 
legation and charge des affaires to this coimtry, is offi- 
cially received*— A fire in New-York broke out the 3d 
instant; the upper end of Greenwich street, three or 
four small buildings, with Mr. Ussington's gold leaf 
manufactory, were consumed. One farmer, near Chil- 
licothe, (Ohio) is said to have raised the present season 
upwards of nine thousand bushels of Wheat. Crops, 
it is said, never have been more abundant. 


The pecuniary embarrassments of the commetci^ 
gwies of society in Europe, are beyond all former 
precedent, and almost beyond alleviation. There are 
several' banks which have failed in England, and near 
a dozen stopped payment. It is sad to observe among 
the list of bankrupts in England, the once respectable 
naerchant, John Bull. Crops of com are said in gene- 
ral to be very promising.— Great events in the destiny 
of nations appear pending; but it is unlikely that the 
Dutch j¥iU, very shortly, take Holland! 


Informshis friends and the publick generally, that he 
has removed his Store the west 6i4e of High Stiver, 
a few doors above James Sterling, where he keeps a 
general assortment of 


suitable for the seasons, on liberal terms for cash or 
country produce. Having also undertaken an agency 
(or Almy & Brown, he has on hand from their Manu- 
factory in Rhode Island, Knitting, Sewing, and Weav- 
ing Cotton Yam, blue and white do. for Warp and 
Filling, Bedticking, Stripes, Checks, Sheetings, Shirt- 
ings, &c &c. S^c. 

8th Mo. 6th. <fB^f 


A Stable and Hay House^ with some Fencing 
and Manure. 

The above must be moved off the premtsee in a 
month from the purchase. There is a conskierable 
quantity of good timber in the stable. Inqiure at the 
office of the K. Visiter. 


Just published^ 



Published Weeify, by D. AUinson, 


Price two floUart a year-^ne half payable in winntt^ 
the otto in fix moichs. 

Digitized by 



" Homciaum^hufiiaT^ mhil ame aHmvm p*Uo.^ — Mm and his cores to me, a nuau are deaf. 

VOL. I. 



No. 9. 


No. VIII. 

l^on Ripper itlenfi floribvis est ^oqos 
Vernis ; nequc uno Lana rubeiis iu|et 

Vulta. HoriLCB. 

On ukiD^a sun'ey of society, op*, a^^ii- 
tion is often arrested by a suiddc^, f^tr^Y.a- 
^;ant, and seemingly unnat\ir4 chaoje of the 
principles of human action. We iq? that 
glowing generosity, that openn<pgs of th? 
soul, and tlwit ^cere friendship, wl^ilvixifiri- 
ed Ae earlier features of cb^rf^cjie-Q, sud- 
denly subverted by the change of fptuiHJ, tp 
their very foundation, apd in their p^pe pre- 
sented the most violent and bitter .deestf^tjop 
•f mankind. An example of this w:e|7(;^C(;iye . 

in Mr. R r- His lively iin^^in^ioxi ^nil 

£ne sensibility on his entrance into life, :h^d 
-decorated eyefv object with a l^iliaiicy .of 
tint which glowmg fancy alone coukbuggiest. 
But filled with that strong enthusijisji,' vrniqh 
^cannot be gratified by objects .tbs^t di^^je ih^ i 
«ye but for a moment, he soon \^^^ ,to \ 
}cnow, that^e pleasures with wnrcl he w jus i 
surrounded were unworthy ^d i\ichpable of 
stimulating his finer and niore exatcd feel- 
ings. He discovered .th?it the powers qf his 
soul began to languish, from the^n?«:T:o.w»es.s 
of the sphere ip which they were H(vc^'iqg,i^nd', 
that the master strings of his h<art were ; 
yet imtouched. In this state of |deluaion, 
and unacquaintance with the real nature qf 
things, he looked around him for aome ob- I 
ject, which he thought might realizp his hap- j 
j)iness, by rousing the stronger eiiptipps qf j 
[his breas^ A blind and f^t^ impulse im- • 
mediately overpowered his deUbemrion. He 
expanded his heart for the rec^jp^on of in- 
mates, whose value he paused pot tpascertajn. 
Every prospect of sweet and^pemuncnt bliss 
was now opened to his view, and tlose wi^h- 
^8 were gratified, which the vividity and 
ardour of his imagination had beforp but 
imperfectly presented. His warm but de- 
luded heart was cheered with tbd smik* pf 
affection which were playing upon the coun- 
tenances of those around him ; while the vital 
-flame, which burned in his own bicast, ,per- 
vaded his whole soul, ?md w^^rmed his he^rt 
with delicious raptures— —But, ^as ! tliese 
happy prospects soon vanished froia his view. 
He discovered with pain, mjj>ligi>aii t^:ea<4j<?ry 
hidden within the secret recesses of the bo- 
soms of his supposed friends, ani instteadof 
friendship, that sacred, solder of |SOciet\', he 
tletected falsehood and deception. ]^very 
scene of life then appear in different 
flours, and failed to produce th( 99C).i&^Q]n- 

ed pleasure. The pernicious nusts that cloud- 
ed his mind were at cmce dissipated, and the 
objects which his glowing imagination had 
deqqrii^d in the most gaudy colours, ap- 
peared barren and void of every attraction. 
He perceived that the exalted ideas of 
friendship with which his bosom had been 
expanded, .^ere ,Qnly conferred by the in- 
fluence qf 4elu^^ c^jects; s^nd thatli& and 
man were yet. unknown to him. Pierced to 
the very heart by an arrow of deception fi:om 
•that quarter where he least expected it, and 
where with precipitancy hehad treasured up 
and concentrated his whole hope, he felt the 
teenriess of die wound ; and finding every 
•source of pleasure and happiness at once cut 
off by this cruel stroke, his 

. . . • <* Rude passions dash : 
Kow fury raised to madness, now despair, 
That suUen -Demon, fastens on his he^rt, 
^nd gives it -all to .gi^f.'* 

In thb situation he lost all that confidence 
in man, of which he vras formerly possessed, 
and cased his heart in apathy anid suspicion. 
His hatred to man increased in proposition 
xo tJhe warmth of the disappointed feelings 
•which animatctil 4mo-«*»1 m ids entrance on 
;life. He began to meditate with excrucia- 
ting agony on the |)ast, and cheerlessly look- 
ed forward into dreary and gloomy futurity. . 
And thus, no longer stimulated by that spirit 
qf enterprize and activity of soul, with which • 
his eady Ufe had been marked, he with- \ 
draws jhimself from society, and passes his , 
tedious days in solitude, holding coni-erse i 
with none but that Being who gave him ; 
existence. A remarkable instance of the 
rapidity and violence of the change of mind : 
by causes which can only be discerned by ' 
those who have experienced the wonderful 
influence of the change of fortune. 



On.loqking over the second number of • 
the Rur^l y isiter, my attention was. taken 
by the construction which the Recorder is 
pleased to put upon tliat line of Pope, in 
which he says, 

'< Man. never is, -but always tabe blest *' 
It is not for the sake of finding fault, but 
with true reluctance that I express my dif- 
ference of sentiment from one who has been 
tauglit 'by the experience of ** ninety sum- 
mersJ^ The Recorder supposes Pope means 
to tell us, that man is never blest. Pope 
may have meant this ; but would he have 
been correct, if he had ? I have always been 
taiigbt, and my judgment inclines me to be- 
lieve, that man maV be blest in this life — 
tliat blessings attend the righteous man in 

thii state of mutabiUty; Blessed are they 
thdf maurtt, for they shaU he €omfortea. 
Mliny other sentences (a n»'**^ber of which 
will be recollected by all ^vho read this), 
m%ht be selected from the scriptures, which, 
as»I suppose, tend to shew die correctness of 
m^ sentiment;' Presuming therefore, that 
Pope 'would have been incorrect, had he 
meant what the Recorder supposes he did, I 
will venttire -to give it as my opinion, that 
hi^ meaning was very differeAt. 

i apprel^nd Pope did not suppose man 
was never bleat, butAat when he said, 

** Man never is, but always to be blest,** 
he intended to convey the idea that man 
ne\'er existed but with a susceptibility of 
being blessed — he did not believe in the 
doctrine of predestination-r-he knew the 
Most High was no respecter of persons — 
that his grace yisite4 every man that comes 
into the world — and thjtt this ^ace is suf- 
ficient for his salvation. The line therefore 
in ques^inon, instead ol being " a melancho- 
ly mementc^ of the vaiiity'of every thing 
sublunary,'' may have an animatipg in$u- 
ence on the mind, when it occasions us to 
reflect up^n the grodncss and impartiality of 
Hiin, W.ho ajlone has the power of blessing- 


For the Rural Visiter. 

A slight observation only bq necessar}- to 
convince one, that in no sinode instance, do 
mankind so often err, as in their prognosti- 
cations concerning the fortune, the fame, 
the weal or woe of tliose who are rising u|> 
into life. The fallacy which so often attends 
the opinions of experience, is attributable 
nMiinly to the extreme volubility or suscepti- 
biVity of change, which marks the character 
of roan. In all other things which are the 
objects of observation and attention, we find 
thiat experience, with the assistance of good 
nt, without any pretensions to a kno w- 
f futurity, will usually, from given 
is, form such conclusions, as in the 
of time, are stamped with the seal of 
The Naturalist, after examining with 
; the tender plant, discovers with 
alnost unfiling certainty, the lurking seeds 
of dissolution, or the stamina of duribility 
and vigour, inseparably attached to it» The 
plysician, whose study has been the natural 
ccnstitution of man, sees health, strength, and 
longevity the portion of one, and sickness, 
dybility and an early tomb, the lot of another 
person ; while to common eyes, the two are 
apparendy equal candidates for terrestrial 
h^^piness. The statesman, who is really 
sirh, who views the actions of men and of 
n^ons, with an eye undoudcd bv the filr^ 

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of local or party prejudices ; and a niiid 
which, fro n its stores of infoi-mation is 
capable of analogical deduction of urhat^ill 
be, from what has been, traces in perspecive, 
the actions of men, and the fate of empres, 
with a prescience almost superhuman. But 
when the mind of the yet unripened youii is 
made the subject of investigation, we find 
that conjecture supplies the place of rea^n ; 
theory is put for fact, and opinion, one day 
considered as founded on the strongest basis, 
must, the next, be relinquished as wholly 
fallacious. This is a subject which has pro- 
bably, greater claim on our attention taan 
we arc willing to allow : there seems tc be 
something providential in it. There is no 
parent who does not look forward with 
anxious solicitude to the future fortune of a 
darling child. The mind, deprived of an 
opportunity of indulging in fond anticipations 
and expectations,would be comfortless. Could 
we be made able to draw the impervious 
curtain of futurity, and view the characters 
of those around us— of those to whom we 
are united by the tenderest ties, one great 
source of happiness would be closed to us. 
*' We cannot change that destiny which, ere 
time began, was sealed on the character of 
every one : were we then capable of discover- 
ing this destiny as respects temporal concerns 
merely, we snould not unfrcquently have a 
gloomy picture to contemplate, where hope 
is now forever brightenmg the prospect, 
and we are; enjoying present happiness from 
our inabiliQr to discover future woes. A me- 
lancholy certainty concerning many events, 
would be but a wretched equivalent for the 
**' rainbow dreams which fancy wove.'* 

The developement of character, it-would 
seem, depends very much upon contingfences. 
The occuring of circumstances seemingly 
trifling, often give a new iournure to a man's 
whole deportment and character. This is 
most often tlie fact in youdi v because then 
impressions are not only more easily made, 
but arc also more deeply imprinted, and 
more permanently fixed than in more mature 
3'ears. A glance at the characters within 
the limits of our acquaintance, will evince 
how surprisingly fallacious are our first- 
formed opinions concerning mankind. This 
may be more particularly true when ap- 
plied to the characters of those who haye 
attained a high rank in society. Probdbly 
there iS not a man of distinguished character 
among Us, who has from his infancy bbcn 
considered aapossessiog inherent superipri- 
ty by those who have been conversant with 
him: but many instances occur to the.mi^d 
of every one, of persons who have been 
marked- out in early life as candidates for 
every thing great, yet have, as they cat>c 
forward on the stage of active life, sujik 
gradually much below the mediocrity iof 
men, and these remained as monunjentsfof 
the fallacy of human judgment on ]>aa^ 
character. .. ,, , . . 

Constellations in the literary 'hemisphere 
have almost uniformly been made upiof 
those whose advantages and earjy repjitatbn 
would never have waiTante J the supposition 
that eminence was in store for them, ^o 
mortal ever penetrated sofaf into the shroikl- 

ed secrets of nature as Sir Isaac Newton ; 
yet he barely held a rank of respectability 
among the fellow students of his early life. 
Cowper, whom future ages will indisputably 
honour with one of the brightest wreaths 
which ever encircled a poets brow, was him- 
self ignorant of his poetic talents till past the 
meridian of life. Eminence in a military 
course seems to claim an exemption from 
these remarks : almost all those who have 
been favourites of Mars, have been seen to 
be such from their cradles. Bnt so few 
exceptions serve only to set the general 
observation in a brighter point of view, and 
can scarcely fail to render it a icurious sub- 
ject of thought. 



'* Oh ! bright occasions of dispensing good* 
How seldom us*dr how little understood.*' 


How interesting the task of a Recorder ! 
how noble that of a lecturer! how entertain- 
ing the part of a Masquerader ! how dange- 
rous, but how admirable that of a Friend ! 
for in this is included one who, with the ever 
watchful eye of true friendship, sees all our 
actions, with pleasing raillery, laughs at our 
follies, lectures with mildness, but firmness, 
our errors, commends where we merit com- 
mendation, directs our steps aright, and with 
the true spirit (^Christianity, and the feelings 
of humanity, records only our virtues. Dif- 
ficult, and perhaps, arrogant as is the task, 
I step forward, and will for once endeavour 
as far as i<i my power, to befriend thc^w"*!- 
Visiter. When- wc-acc- the ^ A^ed" under- 
take and so well continue a Recorder, should 
it not be an inducement to those in the 
prime and vigour of life, if not in so use- 
ful 9Xi& interesting, at least in some way, 
to employ themselves for .the good, or enter- 
tainment of their fellow citizens. And Oh, 
that some rays of the benign Imham^ would 
shed their influence over thy heart and im- 
agination ! then I might, with him, call upon 
the children of men to listen to the admoni- 
tions of a friend, point out to them the folly 
of idling time in vain and frivolous conversa- 
tion, when nature has endowed them with 
talents to improve. " Nonsense talked by 
men of wit and understanding in the hour of 
relaxation is of the very finest essence of 
convivialit}', and a treat delicious to those 
who have the sense to comprehend it." But 
such thoughtless and silly expressions, and 
raillery that approaches to satire which we 
too frequently hear, canqot be approved, . It 
would certainly be ridiculous when persons 
meet, immediately to enter upon some ob- 
struse point of disquisition ; but would it 
not be better, after at most half a dozen 
observations on the weather, and their neigh- 
bour's last appearance and dress, to converse 
rationally on the common topics of the day, 
and if the follies of others must be handled, 
at least to 

" Gently scan their brother maii^ 
Still genUer sister womsin." 

And recollect as they do to others, so will 

others do to them. If tliey wish to display 

' their talent for fault-finding, how many sub- 

jectsmore proper, and which allow a much 
largr field, than ^friend. Some time since, 
at a jarty met to show to some strangers how 
wcUire understand the forms of politeness ; 
mostsincerely did I wish. 


" 1\at some kind power the gift would gi 
To jee ourselves as others see us.*' 


" It would ^<z^ mcme a blunder free us,** 
and bduce us to adopt a different mode of 
condtct. Feeling more inclined to listen to 
the olservations of others, than venture any 
mysef, I was amused by joining the differ- 
ent pirties for a few moments at a time. 
The srangers were left entirely to the atten- 
tion Oi the mistress of the house ; all agree- 
ing tht every one should entertain their 
compaiy. The rest formed themselves into 
separae parties, in one of which were three 
youngladtes, expressing their delight on the 
exquiste beauties of a new novcL One 
shewel her great sensibility by having "wept 
for an hour o*er the griefs of the heroine P 
anothe her susceptibiUty of heart by " falling 
quite ii love with the hero ;'^ and the third 
the delcacy of her nerves, " not being able 
to sleej at all (except as it was proved a few 
minute in church) for eight ana forty hours ; 
owing to the very great agitation she felt at 
the umxpectedly happy conclusion;" but in 
the hury of her expressions, forgot not now 
and thei dexterously to arrange a bewitching 
ringlet. From one party — " you can't im- 
agine, Mary, how sorry I was that I was not 
at homs when you called this morning to 
^eeiar^e, I had a thousand things to say tQ 
you, aid lnt««t<le<ir goftig to scc you"— -** No 
matter, my dear, I should have turned back 
when I iieard you ask the servant who it was^ 
but I WIS in a great hurry to pay off a parcel 
of dull Tisits." — From some I learned many 
secrets of domestic economy, and heard how 
very dificult to procure good ser\'ants. In 
the middle of the room^ a group of young 
men had their stand, that every one might 
see they were men of observation — the few 
words I recollected, such as " very silly,'* 
" flat, bsipid, affected, and stupid, wt^ 
enough t> laugh at"— proved at once the depth 
of their understanding, their galantry, and 
the goodaess of their hearts. One party of 
ffendemoi were conversing on subjects en- 
tirely appertaining to their particular situa- 
tions, thit it was impossible for any one else 
to partake of it, and useless to listen to., as 
it had net the charm of hovelty to make it 
interestii^. I began to think it was the order 
of the evening that gentlemen and ladies 
must not speak to each other, till in one 
comer I observed a young lady and gentle- 
man, what, their subject was I can't pretend 
to Vsay, for as it was interestingly breathed 
in low and plaintive tones, I felt it was not 
for me to hear. 

But the party near whom I passed most 
frequently, and wliich gave me pleasure and 
regret, consisted of half a dozen ladies and 
gentlenien, the men speaking with taste and 
judgment on the most admired poets, and 
with elegince criticizing the beauties rather' 
than faultsof a late publication. I stood for 
some time eager to hear the remarks of the 

Digitized by 




female part, who, by UvAr aitcntion ceruiiily 
enjoyed it, and by their expressive looks 
appeared fully to understand it : but alas ! 
they were impenetrably silent. Whether 
this proceeded from too great diffidence that 
made them fear to display their powers, or 
their not being conversant enough to join, 
while their -Tioft^ra/ good sense led them to 
admire, I know not ; but they are equally to 
be regretted, and I left the company griev- 
ing that woman, 

" The light and the speU of each path man pursues/* 
should so neglect and misapply her powers. 


Mr. Rural Visiter, 

I have just returned from paying several 
morning visits, and without allowing myself 
time to pull off my parasol-hat, or gloves, I 
have taken my pen in hand to tell you, you 
are a most naughty, contankerous man. If 
there were but five more of your description 
I should resolve to apply to die legislature of 
the sijrtcen states for an act of banishment to 
the country of the communi|>aws. O you 
gossip — ^you flirt — ^you tatler j and, worst of 
all— you woman ! Had I but hold of you, 
I'd make a nucleus of needles, and conglo- 
merate you round them as I do thread round 
the letters of my dear friends. Were you 
but here-r-fast in my two hands — I'd serve 
you as a certain spirited wife did a certain 
wise man 

But you must be made acquainted with 
the nature of my complaints. 

Imprimis* Be it known to you and to all 
your readers, (for I perceive I may as well 
publish the fact) that I am the authoress of the 
Kecorder, of the Masque aWayed^ of several 
pieces of poetry, and -particularly of apiece 
I yesterday sent you, signed A Bee. 

Item. As I was relating, I set out to pay 
morning visits : and first of all, I called on 
my dear little blue eyed friend Luscinda. 
The charms of her conversation had as usual 
totally engrossed my attention, when her 
sister entered and changed the subject to the 
Rural Visiter. I was hazarding conjectures, 
about what would appear in the next num- 
ber^ when Luscinda observed, " I saw all 
the subject of diis week's paper several days 
ago. There is to be " Overwhelming Argu- 
ment,** ^* The most wretched state of man," 
and the conclusion of the " Masquerade." 
*' Then you have already read the Masque- 
rade/' ^aid I — '^ O yes,** replied her sister, 
*^* we saw the whole before'any of it appeared 
in print.** 

Item. I wished them a good morning, imd 
called to see my friends, ti^e Misses Butter- 
nuts. The Rural Visiter was again laid on 
the tapis. I found that the Miss Butternuts 
had also seen every piece of merit that was 
intended for insertion in the next and succes- 
sive nunib-^rs : and what was still more in- 
tolerable, they had been shown my last essay 
:ibove alluded to* 

Item. From thence I went to Mrs. Galli- 
fx)ts's. I found her possessed of the same 
information. She had read all — ^not even ex- ^ 
cepting^ my last mentioned effusion. "And,** 
added i^h^j *' I never read or wish to see Uie 

paper, as the goodness of the Editor puts 
me in possession of all the matter of fact 
without subscribing. I see the paper before 
it is pul>lish.!d.** Don*t condemn her for her 
bull Mr. Rural Visiter. Her observation 
does not savour so much of potatoes, as 

** Had you seen this road before it was made, 
You'd lift up your hands and bleis General Wade." 

After hearing all this, and hastily sapng, 
" Adieu, dear Gallipot,** I turned toward 
home, and without being sensible of a move- 
ment that intervened, I found myself seated 
where I now am. 

Thus am I, who contribute so much 
amusement to your paper, obliged to pay 
two dollars per annunn, one halt down and 
the rest in six months, when the idle part of 
the community get it gratis. And thus are 
my performances hawked about town, " Who 
wants to see what is to be published in 
next number r*' critisized on by the witlings, 
seized without the form of a Habeas Corpus, 
condemned without benefit of jury, and 
hanged without the administration of ex- 
treme unction : which, by the bye, had I but 
the means of a man, I'd administer to you in 
such a way, as wouldn't leave you qdite so 
fresh: I should soon cure you of jomt galli- 
vanting and tantivtjing. Mr. Rural Visiter, 
I am not generally of a spicfacerous disposi- 
tion, but on this point my robuncticity has 
got pretty well up and 1 mean what I say. 

I now proceed to prove by geometrical 
nicety the enormity of your errors. 


1. Let it be granted that when a lady puts 
herself in tiie power of a gentleman, he 
should make no bad use of his means. 

2. That th^ female breast is formed as the 
receptacle of niceties, sensibility, &c. 

3. That 

'* Tis woman tyrannizes all mankind,'^ 

and she, at a moment, can raise or depress 
the character of a paper. 

4. That there are no combatants so dread- 
ful as the amazons of the quill. 

5. That a lady from her knowledge in 
pastry, &c. is the most proper to serve up 
ragouts and made dishes, to make a collation 

6. That this particularly applies to a paper 
whose ** means is pleasure, and whose end is 


1. Man should do to others as he would 
be done unto. 

2. 'Tis every man's duty to make hay 
while the sun shines. 

3. Tit for tat is every man's due. 

4. Too many cooks spoil the broth. 

5. Every one to his liking. 

6. Every litde helps. 

7* Every Jack-a4antem should be made 
to douse gum* 

8. A drowning man should catch at a 

9. Still water runs deep. 


Suppose an Editor who conducts a peri- 
odicsd paper, pure^ t(y make mon^y by 

charming the gilded sense of others. A l^dy 
oflfers her assistance. He receives it because 
it is his mterest. He runs about town, 
showing her production in her own hand 
writing, and inaking conjectures who is the 

Now, by postulate 1. let his inclinations 
be what they may, he should behave with 
the most refined delicacy to his coadjutress. 
And if he conduct amiss, she should take 
revenge agreeably to axiom 3. An Editor 
in climbing the hiQ of fame should make use 
of every sapling whose root is infixed suffi- 
ciendjr firm to give him a lift. ITiis is ^hown 
by axiom 6 : and as all eyes are fixed on him 
to see whether he attain or fall, he should 
pay some attention to axiom 5. According 
to all the postulates except the first, he should 
be pecuharly grateful for the aid of jthe 
ladies. He should endeavour to place him-: 
self in their situations — ^to enter into their 
ideas and fears, and act as, prescribed in axiom 
I. He should cultivate with assiduity a 
good correspondence. Hj should not blab 
it ; for axiom 9 shows it his interest to be 
silent. And as to asking the opinions of 
others, it is the most efficacious way of ruin- 
ing his paper, according to axiom 4. This 
must be allowed to be the portrait of an Edi- 
tor who has delicacy, judgment, and a right 
idea of his own dignity ; and if he do not act 
so, the comouinity should join, and by axiom 
7, oblige him to relinquish. Beside, as to 
Mr. Rural Visiter, it is plain his circum- 
stances have particular reference to axiom 8, 
and the inference is, that he should pay gr^at 
deference to the morality of axiom 2. 

You therefore, Mr. Rural Visiter, do not 
act as you should do. lE^uod erat demon- 

Corrollary. When an Editor uses a corres 
pondent ill, the correspondent should have 
nothing more to say to the Editor. I there- 
fore here signify my intention to retire and 
enjoy otium cum dignitate. 

I shall take your paper no longer. 

I Shall write for you no more. 

" Othello's occupation's gone," and "Richr 
ard is himself again." 

Yours, dear Mr. Rural Visiter, 
^ in the Comer. 

Hope is the only soother of every woe.. 


An ignorant fellow seeing several persons 
reading with spectacles, went to buy a pair, 
to ename him to read. He tried several ; 
and told the maker, they would not answer, 
as he could not read with them. Can you 
readatalH asked the other — No, says he, 
if I could, do you think I would be such a 
fool as ^ buy spectacles ? ^ 

HONEST soui«. 

One who squanders his time and money in 
frippery,folly, and absurdity ; who frequents 
the tavern, and the play house when the play 
is near done \ who changes the dress of his 
hair, and the shape of his coat, every week, 
as versatile fashioa varieaO ^y. ^^ ^1 ^ 
^.Jitized by VJ0OQ Ic 




By a Sailor* 
When a couple of fondi faithful lovers, 
launched by Hymen, sail fhToi:^gh life pre- 
pared for all kinds of weather; when in ei^ry 
shifting part of the changeable years, ttiey 
guide their vessel by the rudder of reas(Mi ; 
when they carefully avoid the rotks of impru- 
dence, and rumio risks by a prohibited ccmx- 
merce 5 when they perfectly understand each 
othersT trhn, and never make false signals 
nor h«mg out false colours; When they can 
tell to a hair, when to traverse or tack; to 
advance and to retreat;: to preserve them- 
selves steady^ though Syrens attempt to 
ceduce, by well ballasted head, and secure 
their hearts against the topgallant delights of 
the age, which never fail to engage tlie fresh- 
water fry ; when they keep their rebellious 
passions under hatches, that they may not 
make a frightful explosion, and give a shock 
to the piilar of conjugal happiness ; when 
they in every dispute, on the stem or the 
head, arc never illmannered, though they 
are sometimes tenacious of their respective 
opinions; but by skilfuHv watching the tide, 
conduct tlieir barque safely through the 
straits of contention j when they know, at 
all times,, how to regulate thebr behaviour; 
to give a broad side^ or to return a salute ; 
when, they camiously ayoid the shoals of 
ambition fev tvhich first tates and frigates are 
frequently 'demrfished, when they cut then- 
cables on being draWn In^o gaming, and scud 
away with an their sail spread,, from the 
gulph of ruin, In which thousands, ten thou- 
sands are tumbled, tost, and totally destroy- 
ed: We may venture to say of this pair, 
that they make a very conjugal voyage thro 
life, and stand a very fair chance to die m 
the harbour of felicity. 




J^iathn of Uor^x, Lib, I. Ode 9^ 
•* Integer vUic sceterisque purus." 


Thcaothor who with virtuous aim 
Dares boldly snatch the wreath of fame. 

Shall e'er protectors find , 
To save him from the snarls and hisses, 
The taunts and grins of critic misses, 

And those of equal nriind. 
Whether his way ward Steps ate turn'd 
'MongBt those who ne'er with vlriue burn'df 

A num'rous triflii^ throng; 
^r whether nc^r soi«ie solemn sage, 
For sense less famous than for age^ 

Who hates his daritte «ong, 
Por late appeared a furious wi|^ 
Arising to astonished sight, 

A direful marauder: 
But lo ! the virtue b(eamuig ft^t 
Of Imham <iuellcd the raging ire 

Of the fell Masqoerader.' 

^ Wo critic of more cutting wit, 
Bid 'moiigst the captious croud e'er sir^ 

Or ever touch a pen, 
Kot one amid the numerous crew, * 

Who ever and anon rerievj. 

Could boast superior ken. 

Charmed wiih thy gff ve and reverend tir, 
Thy aspect mild, thy silvered hair, 

As wolves by Orpheus' lyre j 
He proved himself thy stedfast friend. 
Not prone to harm, quick to defend^ 

And turned elsewhere his iie. 

So when as ancient stories say. 
Exposed to death in danger's way, 

Lay Remus aiid his brother^ 
Their suffMngs -moved a gaunrwoirs btait. 
Who gladsome then performed the pW 

Of a kind tender mother. 
Then since with safety you have seen 
This furious wight with wit so keen- 
Pursue your noble toil ; 
If you his rage severe disarmed, 
You never more need be alarmsd 

Or tremble with turmoil. 
"Pursue the path where round your brow 
The never lading wreath wil> grow— 

Bloom with perennial spring, 
Where soaring far above the croud 
Qf gabbling critics, dull yet loud, 
Yo^ sail on powerful wing. 




Ah ! gather not that chesnut, Jonathan, 
There is a maggot in't — it is his house — his castle ;^ 
Oh commit no burglary ! — strip him not naked— 
*Tis his cloathes— his sh^ll— the very annour of his life;; 
And thou shalt do no murder, Jonathan, 
Or with thy crackers, or thy double teeth ; 
So easily may all things be destroyed ! 
But 'lis not in the power of nvortal man 
To mend the fracture of a chesnut shell ! 

There were two great men once amused themselves 
By watching maggots run tlieir wriggling race ; 
And wagering on their speed. But Joe,, to us 
It were no sport to see the pampered worm 
RolL out, axid then draw in his folds of far, 
Like to some barbcr'fe leathern powder bag. 
Wherewith he feathers, frosts, or cauliflowers. 
Spruce beau, or lady fair, or doctor grave ! 

Enough of pcjils and of enemies 
Hath nsiure^s wisdom for the worm ordained— 
Increase not thtm the number— him the moose 
Gnawing with nibbling tooth the shell's defcoqe, 
May from his- native tenement eject ! 
Him may the nut-hatch piercing with strong bill 
Unwittingly destroy f or to his hoard 
The squirrel bear, at leasure to be crackt. 

Man also hath his troubles and his fears s 
And when I think on all the aches, anxieties and pains, 
Which thh poor maggot knows not — ^Jonathan, me- 

•Twould be a happy metamorphosis 
To be enkemelled thus! no more to hear 
Of wars> of insults, and of captured ships. 
Orders in council, or Berlin decrees, 
Non-intercourse, embargoes, and the like- 
To hear not one of these ungracious sounds, 
To feel no motion but the wind that shook the chesnut 

And lock'd me to my rest! and in the middle 
Of such dainty food, to live luxurious ! 
The perfection this of snugness ! it were lo unite ai 

Hermit retirement — aldermanic Wiss ! 
And Stoick independence of mankind 



By a gentlemen who left New-York eariy yesterday 
morning, we learn that the Magdalen, arrived there 
on Saturday evenmg. in 28 days from Liverpool, bring* 
the important intelligence, that the entteror oj Fravct 
ha^ detfrvUned to ra^ind bit JJltcreet affecting aur cppi^ 
mereci^n the arst of November next— the confiscated 
property to be paid for, or restored ; in consequence or 
whKh, the Britieb Ordert tn Council were expected to 
be iwnudiatefy repealed. The covrespondmce betweea 
the Due de Cadore ai^d our Minister Mr. AmwRrongr 
wUl probably be published in a few days. 

DoKESTfC.— There is lately discovwrjed m the nonli- 
em p»t of the state of N*Y. species of day, which by 
fire IS soluble andconverted into purs glass: it deserves, 
and will no doubt receive further investigation . ■ * 
Francis J. Jackson, the late British minister, and his 
famUy, on Sunday last sailed for England, in the frigate 
Venus, capt. Crawford. 

MARRIED, the 20th Inst, at Friends' Meotiog-house 
in this place, Ricbard M, Smitb, son of John Smith, 
deceased, to Susanna Colline, daughter of Isaac Collins- 
— at Newark, N. J. the 11th Inst, by the Rev. Mr. 
Willard, Mr. WilliavulAfnbert, m^w^hant of Savannah, 
to Miss Catberine P. Wbite, of NexwYork. On the same 
evening, by the Rev Mr. Grover, Mr. Abner Campbell, 
to Miss Deborab Congar, daughter of Mr. Joseph Con* 
gar.— On Sunday, the 16th, at Wcstfield. by the Rev- 
Mr. Picton, Mr. A<mos Hots, to Miss Salfy WtlUanu^ 
both of that place. . 

Died— At Newark, on Thursday, the 13th Iqstant, 
suddenly, Mrs. EUzabttbyamieon^ aged 65. Li the acr 
of eating her dinner, she was entertaining her friends^ 
around her with a pleasing anecdote, when she, 
puttii\g her hand to l^r head, exclaimed, ' Oh| TtiT 
head!' and fell with her foce on her plate, and 
immediately expired j also on the morning of the same 
day, Mrs. MedJen, consort of Col. James Hedden, and 
Mrs. Safron, wife <rf Mr. William Saflfron.— On the^ 
12th Inst, at his late residence in Millstone Som^rset^ 
county, N. J. Henry Disborougb, in the 71st year of hia 
age.-^-*In Scituate, Massachusetts, the I3sh Instant, 
the Hon. Willtam Cusbino. one of the Associate 
Justices of the United States Court, aged 7T^^ — At 
New- York, the 19th Instant, ^ame* Cbeethantt Editor 
of the American Citizen, in the 38th year of his age, 
as f * i > I T ■ I ■ 1 ^1 ■■■!; ■ ' 1 ' ' 'i m ' f i f 'B 

Editors Addreee. 
The Rural Visiter cannot suppress his cries at the U- 
cesations of * Q.m the comer,* He cannot help think- 
ing, however, that the lady has made ** a mountain of 
a mole-hill.*' But if a promise of amendment of life,. 
will prevent the misfortune of losing the weight of her 
talents, he hopes she will not immure herself in acor- 
ner-«-a pl^ce wry improper for a lady. 

The con^sitions of Clo^s have never yet jtome un- 
der suspicions, relative to their propriety 

We sympathise with our military roet, sweating 
now at every pore, we expect, with Buonaparte; but 
the pacific principles of the H. V. prevent our entering 
the lists with him^ 

Harmletf must not be discouraged, if his fi-tt offer 
comes not up to that stile of originality we think indis- 
pensable j we have not, however, finally determined to 
exclude it, after bestowing some corrections. 

E. need not fear ; his offering has survived the • ^^ry 
ordeal* without diminution. 

Hog's petition against his own species cannot be p?«- 
fe^d the present term. The Ekliior in consequence of 
receiving his communication, ha? not quite like the 
brother swine in Mr. Hog's poem, been obliged to 

" At easy mouthful, it is said, 

•• A gre«u unwh^ldy, huge post-spade," 


FoREio.3t.-rJli8patehe« ©f importiffGe are reported 
from Mr. Pinckney to government, iind state that ano- 
ther British minister is appoHited for this countr)- — 
The Prussian monarch has piiblished a new decree de- 
clarii^g art his port> shut against Ameidoan vessels with- 
out exception.— The attempt of Murat to mvade Si- 
cily has been frustrated. A battle fought betw.een 

the Russians and Turks near Bagartschik, has termi- 
nated fatally for the latter, who it is said lost 8000 men 

and 40 standards. Another battle is reported to have 

taken place between the combined British and Portu- 
guese and the French forces j but no certainty is attach- 
ed to the information; the i)ositions of each are thteat- 
ning: the French arc ra'.ed at 185,000, the combined 
a)wu«*t«i>,000. * . . - • 

bat to pay therefor twenty cems. 

OttOiardist No. 5, Lecturer No. 3, Poor Pilgrim Nc. 
1, Extractor, and seveual other valuable Essays, an^ 
unavoidably postponed.— —Subscribers, please to con- 
sider our proposition m No. 7. * 

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Digitizec ^_y — ^ ^r> 


»• Homo sum ; humani mhil a me aliemm puto.^—Mcm and his cares to me a man^ are dear. 

VOL. I. 


No. 10. 


No. IX. 

. . ^ . Minuentur atrx 
Carmine curx. Horace. 
Music the fiercest grief can charm; 
And fate's severest rage disann ; 
Music can soften pain to case, 
And make despair and madness please, 
Our joys below it can improve, 
And antedate the bliss above. Pope. 

The soul of man is a fabric of the most 
complicated structure, regulated by springs 
80 fine as to evade our most accurate and 
scrutinizing observation. To understand hs 
construction, and to reconcile the various and 
apparently contradictory plienomena which 

k it presents, is a knowledge too deep for 
human nature : Our intellects are not suffi- 
ciently refined, our perceptions not sufficient- 
ly acute, to enable us to view the intricacies 

I of the human souU and to comDrehend its 
different, discordant powers. In an mquiry 

of this nature, the effects produced are so 
opposite, and the faculties which are the 
I obiccts upon which our judgments are to be 
cxerciseci, appear so minute, so varied, and/ 
so volatile, that clear, full, and distinct con- 
ceptions concerning them can seldom oft 
never be obuined, even by the strongest 
minds. Any deductions tlierefore from pre^ 
mises of which our ideas are so imperfecti 
cannot but be fallacious and delusive. 1 M 
acquaintance with ourselves has been coii 
cejUed bv Providence doubdess for good 
thou A not apparent ends : Our Creator ha, 
enabled us to become so far acquainted wit^ 
our internal organizatiDn as can be produc 
tive of beneficial consequences ; but whej 
the inquiry would extend to objects unwoi) 
thy of attention or unfruitful of advantage 
our observation is circumscribed and imped 
cd. Beyond this, all is lost in darkness mij 
obscurity, unifluminated by the faintest r# 
more than sufficient merelyto show the coii^ 
pleteneas of the gloom. The light howevt 
which has been bestowed upon us is a^ 
miate to our wants and commensurate wh 
our actual necessities; ^'c can perceive tht 
virtue alone is the path which leads to p<- 
fection and to happiness ; we can percefe 
from the variety which exists in hunti 
nature, that the means of promoting vir^ 
in different individuals must necessanlyje 
various. The same motives which wojd 
produce the most important effects u|in 
»ome, and urge them on with irresistie 
impetuosiiy, are weak and inefficient in tljr 
influence upon cthei-3# 

He therefore who undertakes or endea- 
vours to inculcate precepts general in their 
nature and application, and to support and 
enforce their adoption, should be acquainted 
with human nature in all its varieties. This 
knowledge b therefore peculiarly advanta- 
geous to the philosopher, the poet, and the 
orator; they should know what strings. of 
the soul they must touch, how great a tension 
they will support without snapping, and 
what degree of force is necessary to produce 
a vibration. From this variety in human 
nature, this consequence also is deducible, 
that the motives presented to the views of 
men in order to draw them to their duty, 
must be equally diversified. Some may be 
attracted by the beauty and simplicity of vir- 
tue^ — some may be impelled by the loath- 
some deformity of vice— some by motives 
of ambition or of interest, or even by an 
apparently unimportant and trivial accident. 
Every source therefore, from which argu- 
ment may be drawn to support and advance 
the cause of virtue and morality should be 
thoroughly examined, every means that may 

ha nood to- -ae t^uiii^lijli Ufc ky — d f-Airg hl^* end 

should be applied ; none should be consider- 
ed undeserving of our attention, though its 
effects should not be immediately percepti- 
ble, nor in their fullest extent embrace num- 
bers. The end which I have in view in these 
preliminary remarks is to gain the attention 
of my Readers whilst I make some observa- 
tions upon the influences of Music : to the 
consideration of which I may, perhaps, de- 
vote one or two more papers hereafter. 

In the primitive states of society, while 
mankind though rude and uncivilized, were 
simple and unsophisticated, free from fasti- 
diousness, which delicacy of taste com- 
monly generates, and destitute of that artful 
simulation wliich refinement of manners 
generally introduces ; their music was wild, 
solemn, pathetic and sublime : They sought 
not and regarded not those minor beauties, 
and that frigid correctness which constitutes 
elegance, but appealing at once to the heart, 
they penetrated the inmost recesses of the 
soul. It was in this state of ardess simpli- 
city and unadulterated nature, that those 
bards arose in Greece, whose wonderful and 
unprecedented powers excited the raptiux)U8 
astonishment of their untutoured hearers; it 
was then that Amphion and Orpheus flourish- 
ed, and poured forth those soul-inspiring 
strains which gave rise to the fabulous accounts 
of succeeding poets concerning the wonderful 
effects produced by their harmonious music. 
At the sound of the lyre of Amphion, we 
are told the walls of Thebes spontaneously 
arose ; when Orpheus, in search of his lost 
Eur)-dice descended to the realms of death, 

and Pluto's dread domjun he sung his sad 
lament; when he touched his harp, Ovid 

Nee Tantalof undam 
Captavit refu^m ; stupuitque Ixionis oibis t 
Nee carps^ jecurvolucrest urnisque vacirent 
Belides s inque tuo sediiti SisTphe sazo 

There must have existed some grounds to 
justify, and even to occasion these hyperbo- 
lical expressions and monstrous fables ; and 
the merits of the music of these bards must 
have been considerable. In Scandinavia, 
when after a recent victory, the Scolders 
sung the acluevements of their heroes and 
the praises of the deified Woden; when 
seated round the tables, their imaginations 
rendered fervid and inflamed by the re- 
membrance of the victory they celebrated^ 
and by the ale which they drsmk from the 
scullsof their slaughtered enemies; theypour- 
ed forth extemporaneous effusions, wild, 
harsh and irregidar, but vehement and ani- 
mated. The effects produced by the Scald* 
ers upon Aeir ferocious companions, may be 
better imagined than described ; death in the 
cause of their country Was welcomed as the 
highest honour to which men could aspire, 
and as the prelude to the most exalted joys : 
they fought like heroes, and were conquered 
but widi their total destruction. It was 
among men more civilized, farther advanced 
in refinement, that Ossian poured forth his 
** wizard strains." It was when the social 
affections had begun to shine forth ^mong 
men, and soften down their rugged fierce- 
ness. Hence we find his poems composed 
with some, and indeed considerable atten- 
tion to regularity and method, and we may 
rationally suppose that the music with which 
they were accompanied was equally improv- 
ed: the same entnusiasm, sublimity, and fise 
which characterized more ancient produc- 
tions, but refined by an admixture ot sweet- 
ness of pathos and of art. It was when 
martial occupations did not exclusively en- 
gross the attention of mankind, or compose 
3ic whole of their occupations ; but when the 
gender virtues, and more tender feelings 
were admitted as inmates to their bosoms, 

bold without controol. 

Without art graceful, without eflfort strong, 
Homer raised high to heaven the loud,th' impetuous 
song. BsATTie. 

Nevertheless, the effects of music even in 
this improved state, (for we must remember 
that Homer as well as Ossian sung their 
poems) were not less extensive. Men were 
not kindled into rage, nor roused to madness 
by the song of the impassioned bard, but 
their souls were harmonized and softened. 
Improvemciit of taste and ref^ement of 

Digitized by 




manners in the first instance, produced this 
change in the music^ and the beneficial in* 
fluence was reciprocated. Manners gradu- 
ally became more refined, for music was 


Not the vain trill that void of passion runs 

In giddy mazes, tickling idle ears; 

But that deep-searching voice and artful hand. 

To which respondent shakes the varied soul. 

Thompson. ' 
Homer we therefore find, had divine 
honours allowed him ; altars were erecte d to 
his memory. The poems of Ossian have 
descended in the fragile barque of tradition, 
have escaped, though perhaps not uninjured, 
the lapse of ages and the corroding ravages 
of time, and are to this day sung with trans- 
port by the descendants of his companions. 
In proportion as refinement of manners, and 
civilization progress, elegance and accuracy 
usurp the place, and stifle the growth of 
sublimity. The productions which we then 
sec have fewer faulte, but their beauties are 
nt-ither so considerable nor so affecting. A 
Pindar may sometimes arise even in an ad- 
vanced stage of refinement, but in general, 
elegance is obtained by sacrificing grandeur. 


No. III. 

On Faith. 

In Lecturer No. 2* something hfiving 
been said on the nature of faith, a verj^ im- 
portant thing in the christian dispensation, I 
fancied the following might be added as a 
sort of No. 3. to Lecturer. 

If we look round the globe and examine 
into the faiths,^ ho^es, confidences, trusts, 
and opinions of men with regard to religion ; 
how various and even contradictory. Some 
Avorship in mosques, some in Pagan temples, 
some in synagogues, some in chapels, and 
some in plain meeting-houses. Some have 
the writings of Fohi, some of Confucius, 
some of Moses, some of Mahomet, and we 
have the writings of the apostles and pro- 
phets. Sects and controversies have spread 
among all, who differ in faiths one from ano- 
ther. Who shall decide where thousands 
disagree? when man has undertaken it, 
dreadful persecutions and consequences have 

Nfevertheless it seems reasonable to be- 
lieve, " God hath not left himself without a 
witness," and his witness is certainly true ; 
which to man is an unerring judge of all 
truths, and controversies. To suppose any 
thing less than this, is to believe that man is 
an insuperable state of errors, darkness, and 
deceptions; and if insuperable, he is not 
accountable for his faiths, or actions* But 
wc feel the contrary of this. 

What is this unerring judge of aU faiths 
and controversies ? If we can discover the 
true answer to this question, we will have 
reason to thank this true judge for it, who 
always decides the matter clearly and satis- 
factorily, to his faithful. 

We read in the scriptures of truth, that 
though there are lords many, and gods many, 
yet there ia but one true God. So there 

are faiths, hopes and confidences many, yet 
the same scriptures from the lips of Jehovah, 
declare there is but one true faith, hope and 
confidence. As there is but one Lord, so 
there is but one true faith $ and indeed but 
one baptism. 

Are all lost who have not the true faith I 
If by faith only we are justified, it is natural 
to believe so. 

We read in the apocaljrpse of the apostle 
John, of people saved in all nations, kindreds, 
tongues, and languages : and Peter said to 
Cornelius, that he perceived in truth, that he 
that feared God and worked righteousness, 
in any nation, whether a Jew like himself, or 
a Roman brought up in idolatry, was accept- 
able to God. If accepted by God, they are 
consequently justified by the true faith. 

O no! I have heard one say, " All the 
heathens are lost." How dost thou prove 
that ? I prove it by the scriptures of truth, 
which have declared, " That there is no other 
name given under heaven whereby men can 
be saved, but the name of Jesus Christ." 
He that believeth not therein shall be damn- 
ed. But how many thousands and millions 
of people never heard of the name of yesus 
Christ ? and except they hear, how can they 
believe? and except they believe, how can 
they be saved, if tlie scriptures are true ? 

This is like believing the bread and wine 
ate by our Saviour and his apostles on the 
eve of the passover, was our Saviour's out- 
ward body and blood. Such faiths, seem to 
me, to deny the spirituality of scripture, faith, 
and religion. It certainly introduces the 

wildest Hnctranrtry ttlict atoSUTCl ^zasA xAnxttrv 

dictory tenets* 

The scriptures are to be spiritually under- 
stood, says Paul. And Jesus too, said, 
** The words which I speak, they are spirit, 
and they are life." Here, therefore, is a 
rule, that as God is a spirit ; so he speaks 
in man by his spirit ; and therefore the words 
and writings of inspired men are to be heard 
In his spirit, and spiritually understood, that 
they may be spirit and life within us. The 
ietter, or literal meaning kills, whilst this 
gives life. 

(To be concluded in our next. J 


The fortune of a young ttian just com- 
mencing a course of professional business, is 
so problematical, that the very fear of ill 
success undoubtedly often induces it. Man- 
kind have ever been prone to accuse each 
other of caprice ; and the charge seems not 
to have been better deserved in any instance, 
than in the patronage which is bestowed on 
young professional characters. Men ever 
have been, and probably ever will be more 
influenced by fancy, taste, inclination, 
than by the dictates of dispassionate judg- 
ment. He who on his first entrance on a 
professional career can meet with some fa- 
vourable occurrence — can please the eyes 
and ears of his fellow men, stands at least an 
equal chance for success with him whose 
professional knowledge and honour are his 
sole recommendations. 

^d Medicine, owe ^ S^S^^^^,^, of 
their celebrity to acci ^ favourable 

occurrence introduced tl notice, after 
which their own abilitieif ^^^^^ ^y^^^ to 
command respect, and insuf, ^^^ success. 

The patronage bestowed v professional 
men seems to be the most c^{rious*of all 
ficklfe things. It depends on nc i^ . j^ can 
be predicated on no combination ^ circum- 
stances. Men may be found possesj*^ great 
professional knowledge, much inte^^ j^^j^ 
yet be as utterly unnoticed as thoug^^ey 
tenanted the dark side of the moon. 

In some of the employments of life^wht^^ 
there is a constant display of the talent 
requisite for performing diem, merit and 
skill always procure promotion. The soldier 
and the mariner are in constant employ, 
under the inspection of intelligent superiors ; 
an opportunity is of course offered diem for 
displaying any superior skill or knowledge 
which they may possess: hence, in these 
occupations, it is almost ever found that pro- 
motion accompanies desert, and he who is 
best qualified rises to respectability. The 
same is the case in many other employments. 
The same is, in some measure, the fact with 
respect to the clerical profession. Exercise 
is of course afibrded; and if talents are pos- 
sessed, they may be used — placed in the 
fairest point of view, and a rank of respecta- 
bility be attained, if the abilitiesjof the candi- 
\i-M»* ^«viueTiim to it. jT seems to be die 
peculiar fate of the legal and medical profes- 
sion to depend less on demerit than whim. 
Yoimg men in their profession, find them- 
selves absolutely dependent on the raprice of 
nankind for introduction to employment. It 
IS not uncommon that those who are moet 
deserving of patronage have really the ka5,t 
ibility to acquire it. The man who has a 
veil grounded consciousness of his owti ac- 
quirements in his profession, if he has any 
feelings, will be compelled to do them great 
violence before he can stoop to the low tricks 
cf the Pettifogger or the Quack, in order to 
^ain a sneaking introduction to notice, llio 
nan of science is usually a man of refined 
iense : such a man feels himself to be aaiiig 
lelow his own dignity when he employs low, 
bse, unworthy means of acquiring celebrity, 
lie man of science and sense is ever willing 
t) rise by the steps of reguliu* gradation, 
bwever minute ; but he cannot creefi^ even 
U) the steep toward Fame's temple. 

It is true, as is often said, that mankind 
hive a perfect right to bestow their favours, 
aid commit the care of their concerns to 
^<nom they please: but it is lamentable that 
pstronage should be so little a concomitant 
oi merit — that men who, in all their other 
cQicems, are directed b) reason, should, 
in conferring their favours as patrons, be 
gcverned so much by caprice. 

It is a consideration which makes the un- 
asuming man shrink, that he must elbow his 
w.y through life, among illiberal opponents, 
arlbe the proclaimer of his own merit, ere 
hecan attract regard. 

rhose who li^ve been once young — wh9 

Digitized by 




can by recollection, realize the feelings ot 
youth, must be sensible, that to the young 
professional character, nothing is more grate- 
ful than the regard of those whose wisdom 
and experience render them respectable. We 
are so made, that we derive always a satis- 
faction from having confidence reposed in 
us. A pledge of fidelity by no means tri- 
fling, may be had from the consideration of 
the gratitude which is felt for professional 
favours* Arrogance in the demand* of pat- 
ronage is undoubtedly the most disgusting 
trial in a young man's character : but there 
seems to be some foundation for the remark 
which has been made by strangers, that pat- 
ronage in our own state is so far from being 
a satellite of merit, that the two have often 
no connection. Tahnt and integrity, ought, 
without a question, to form the criterion of 
character. There can scarce be a more cruel 
act than to blast even the embr^^o success of 
a young professional man l>y cold indiffer- 
ence or neglect, or what is worse, by unjust 
aspersions, even before opportunity has been 
afforded for the formation of correct opinion. 
Genius is a plant of delicate structure, and 
tender growth ; it requires the sunshine of 
patronage to bring it to raaturit}^ Like all 
the finer and more delicious productions of 
nature, it demands fostering care ; — ^the 
rank, lurid weeds of ignorant arrogance and 
•assuming forwardness will find nutriment on 
any soil, and start up in opposition to all 
efforts to keep them under. In conferring 
patronage, it cannot but be allowed to be 
just, that integrity and skill should be para- 
mount to those inferior considerations which 
frequently have influence. Give opportunity 
for the exercise of talents, and reward them 
whenever they appear — ^this is true liberality 
j-^— this is justice, and is an exercise of favour 
in some sort due to every young professional 
character. CLOVIS. 


Thoughts on Dissipation. 

*' The ruling passion be it what it ^iU, 
The ruling passion conquers reason still." 
The ruling psusion, be it what it may, 
Govem's idl others with imperial sway. 

This, I believe, is applicable to the whole 
xace of mankind, while they remain in an 
unregenerated state, each seeking to gratify, 
in ever}' stage of life, the predominant pas- 
sion. Perhaps no one rules more supremely 
crver the young and inconsiderate, than the 
love and pursuit of the wliirling passions of 
dissipation. The consequences of which are 
often proved to be as extensive in its evil, 
a^ the cirdc of its influence. In the whirl 
of idissipation all regard to principle or reli- 
gion, is forgotten. Even the obligations of 
Konom* arc sometimes swept away by it. 
The mind, by being under the dominion of 
caprice, becomes gradually insensible to its 
own importance, and neglects the improve- 
ment ot those talents, which are bestowed 
for the wise and noble purposes of rendering 
us agreeable in domestic, and useful in civU 
and religious society. And what do we gain 
by sacrificing that at the shrine of folly, 
\vhich might have become wisdom to direct 
us tQ never ending pleasures ? May we not 

E resume it was this state which the prophet 
ad in view when he said, " They sow the 
wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.** 
The whirlwind represents the agitated, toss^ 
ed, and afllicted soul, which looks back in 
the hour of adversity and judgment, and 
beholds a life spent in vanity^ and which 
reaps nothing but vexation of spirit. 



^ No. V. 

The merit of cider will depend on the 
proper mixture, or rather on the proper se- 
paration of the fruits. Those whose rind 
and pulp are tinged with green or red with- 
out a mixture of yellow, (for that colour will 
disappear in the nrst stages of fermentation) 
should be carefully kept apart from such as 
are yellow, or yellow intermixed with red. 
The latter kinds, which should remain on the 
trees till ripe enough to fall without being 
much shaken, are alone capable of making 
fine cider. Each kind should be collected 
separately, and kept till it becomes perfecdy 
mellow. The strength and flavour of the 
future liquor are increased by keeping the 
fruit under cover before it is groimd ; but 
unless it is exposed to a free current of air 
and spread thin, it is apt to contract an un- 
pleasant smell, which will affect the cider 
produced from it. Much water is absorbed 
by fruit in rainy weather ; but the quantity 
of liquor yielded by any given quantity of 
fruit, will be found to diminish a$ the fruit 
becomes more mellow, even in very wet 
weather ; provided it be ground when 
thoroughly dry : and I am not quite satisfied 
that the apple does not receive benefit' from 
the sun and light subsequently to its being 
taken from the tree. The advantages there- 
fore of covering the fruit will probably be 
much less than may at first be expected. 

No criterion appears to be known by which 
the most proper point of maturity in the fruit 
can be ascertained with accuracy ; but I have 
good reason to believe that it improves as 
long as it continues to acquire a deeper shade 
of yellow without decaying. *Each heap 
should be examined prior to its being ground, 
and any decayed or green fruit carefully 
taken away. Each kind should be either 
ground separately or mixed with such only 
as becomes ripe precisely at the same time ; 
but it is from the former practice that fine 
cider of different flavors and degrees of 
strength are best obtained from the same 
orchard. The practice however of mixing 
different varieties of fruit, will often be found 
eligible ; for it is much more easy to find 
the requisite quantity of richness, astringency 
and flavour in three different varieties of 
fruit than in one ; and hence ciders composed 
of the juice of mixed fruits, are generally 
found to succeed with greatet certainty^ than 
those made with any one kind. By mixtures 
also, the cider maker being able to give to 
each cask a greater or less portion of acid or 
astringency, may best accommodate different 
portions of his liquor to different palates and 

In giinding, the fruit should be reduced, 

as nearly as possible, to an uniform mass, 
in which the rinds and kernels are scarcely 
discoverable. The advantages which the 
ciders receive from the perfect execution of 
this process, are well known ; but from what 
source these advantages are derived, does 
not appear to be so well understood. 13y the 
mechanical operation of the roller, wheel, or 
nuts, the various fluids which occupy the 
different vessels and cells of the fruit, are 
mingled with the juices of the rind and seeds, 
and with the macerated substance of the ves- 
sels and cells themselves. In such a mixture, 
it seems probable that new elective attrac- 
tions will be exerted, and compounds form- 
ed, which did not exist previously to the fruit 
being placed under the roller ; and hence the 
most correct analysis of the expressed juices 
will convey but a very imperfect degree of 
knowledge of the component parts of the 
di£Ferent fluids, as they existed in their state 
of separation within the fruit. I have ex- 
tracted, by the means of a small hand -press, 
the juice of a single apple without hewing 
previously bruised it to pieces ; and I have 
always found the juice thus obtained, to be 
pale and thin, and extremely defective in 
richness, though the apple possessed great 
merit as a cider fruit. I have then returned 
the expressed juice to the pulp, which I have 
re-pressed, after it has been exposed during 
a few hovers to the air and light ; and the 
juice has then become deeply tinged, less 
fluid and very rich. In the former state it 
apparently contained but a small portion of 
sugar ; in the latter it certainly contained a 
great quantity, much of which I believe to 
have been generated subsequendy to the fruit 
having been subjected to the action of the 
press ; though it may be difficult to explain 
satisfactorily the means by which it eou Id- 
have been produced. The component parts 
of sugar are well known : it consists of vital 
air,(oxygen) inflammable air, (hydrogen) and 
charcoal, (carbon) the two latter substances 
are evidently component parts of the apple, 
and it appears possible that these, during the 
process of grinding may absorb and combine 
with a portion of the vital air of the atmos- 
phere. During the process of grinding slow- 
ly, with free access of air the liquor acquires 
good qualities, which it did not previously 

After the fruit has been thorouglJy gi'ound, 
the reduced pulp should remain twentyfour 
hours before it is taken to the press. It the 
fruit have been thoroughly ripe and mellow, 
a large quantit}'^ of the pulp will now pass 
through die hair clodi which is used in press* 
ing, and as this will be thrown off in the first 
stages of fermentation, each cask in which 
the liquor is placed to fennent should wa?it 
about a gallon of being full. Some advan- 
tages are found in the use of open vessels ; 
but these can only be used under cover, and 
where the quantity of liquor to be manufac- 
tured is small. 


Soft as the ev*ning dew, which from the sky- 
Descends and rears the drooping flow'rs apin^ 
Such are thy gentle pow'rs, sweet S^tnpatby, 

That kindly shar'st another's woe and pain. 
Be thine the task to calm the troubled breast. 
And set each sad destructive care at rest. 

Digitized by 




Q^ The first annual meeting oftheNexV' 
ytrsey Bible Si)czetifs « advertised to beheld 
at Princeton to-morrowm 



Mr. Editor, 

T^ast eve around the fire, where blithe and gzy 
A circle met to ch«rm the hours away, 
In work, or books, amusement still we sought, 
As chance directed, or as fancy taught ; 
And on the table laidftn conscious pride 
The Rural Visiter-— expanded wide; 
Papa had placed, with aspect grave and wise. 
His shining spectacles before his eyes, 
And all expecting sat his eager croud, 
As from his elbow chair he read aloud. 
■ First on the page, old Imham met his view, 
His moral precepts, and his maxims true. 
Pausing— Papa enforced what Imham said. 
Mama approving, smiled on what he read; 
I thought as o'er this snacious globe he strayed. 
And various scenes, and various climes surveyed. 
As ninety ntmmer suns their influence shed, 
In warm effulgence on his reverend head. 
That some sweet tale, would charm away duO 

And gild the moral precept that he taught. 
How dear the joys fictitious ills bestow! 
How sweet the tears for visionary woe! 

For once, papa infring'd great orders laws, 
And ieft.ihe page— nor did I learn the cause, 
" What have we here? a tea-party, I pray 
Who's this, that sleeps in church the time away ?"*— 
In dread review, I saw the house of firayeiw. 
Indeed I slept but one short Inoment there ■ ■ 
A silent iacfy, th^ would ne'er repiy. 
Ah, Mr. Editor, it was not /— 
Tho' careful always, by no word or look, 
E'er to confess I have pot read the book, 

Whafi<his? a lady from a morning walk, 
And in a passion by her- furious talk*^ 
None, but papa, would say the cause was small^ 
The prcnocation all, 
" And would a lady write the masquerade?" 
lie said—** her prcn^ince only is the s&ade, 
Her modest virtues, always should retire. 
Shun those alike that censure, or admire;" 
Silent I sat,— convinced by Mrs. ^ 
That ladies wrote, aiul sought the muses too,. 
I envied those who sought them not in vain. 
And saw in print , the offspring of their brain, 
1 left Papa ;-— ambition loudly cry'd. 
And took the pen,— with Johnson by my sklc. 
For if perchancei the muses wished me well, 
Ptihaps they'll lend a word, I could not spell. 

And now, good Editor, should you refuse. 
To spare one comer for my infant mote. 
Ah ! keep the secret of my early doom. 
If budding hope must perish ere it bloom. 



J iTMrning gymn-^Imitated from. Racint.'4. 
Wliilst sleep distils her magic dews, 

And Nature's wastes repairs, 
And Toils exhausted nerves renews* 

Again to grasp his cares. 

We break the silence of the night. 

Its chains, its gloom profound ; 
O Source of pure— Eternal Light ! 

Thy praises thus to sound. 

Soon as the pierdng eye of mom 

Shall scintillate the day : 
Syon as the pearl that decks the thom 

Reverts the glowing ray. 

leach us to tunc our harps to Thee 

With praise — tho' feebly strung; 
Ajid finish on the bended knee 

1'he day with praise begun. 

TJie Star of day—** Thy image here" 

Comes, soon to kiss away, 
I'rom Nature's cheek the plearly tear, 

That xnoums bis cheerless stay. 

Te^ Demons of the guilty night, 

*n gloom who prowl and slay. 
No more your forms oihr souls affright, 

For see— the coming day ! 
Thee Father ! we again implore. 

Around thy bounties cling, 
O grant with purcit hearts once more, 

Thy hallowed praise we sbig. 
On earth we sing^^ vale of tears. 

Where groans our lives employ ; 
But ronnd thy throtie thro' countless years, 

Oh, let us live to joy ! 

Almighty! from thy breast divine, 

Their rays thy glories send; 
Thy reign no limits e'er confine ; 

Commencement, space, nor end ! 

Self-formed Lord! Most Holy Word! 

Spirit of Life !— thy Son ; 
Deign that our feeble voice be heard— 

•* Thy will in us be done." 


FoREiOK— k IS said lord CasUereigh is to be the 
successor to the present Governor General of India- 
and that parliament is prorogued to the 1st of Novem- 
ber—A repca^ of the Union and restoration of the 
\\^^^Zm « *ji'* '""r^ presented for considera- 
C'Xk. :?• "*"'7 ^'*"*'^' »"d »*»« honourable 
Mn R. Shaw, the two members for the city of Dublin. 

and^t^' M .,!? ^.'^'" '"PP*^ ^'*^ provisions 
and water Nothmg important has lately Jccured in 
this city ; but several skirmishes have taken place on 
the banks of the Ebro, favourable to the patriots. 
f^ZV^T '\^'^P^ )>y the French With con- 
firmations of the late important news from France, 
a new minister to be sent out to theU. S. is mentioned 

Louis Buwiaparte is at Toeplitz, in Bohemia. 

The Grand Vizier is stated to have gained r con. 
siderablc victory over the Russians. 

DoMESTiCj-Upwards of 1500 Merino sheep have 
been imported mto the U. S, m the course of the pre- 
sent season. *^ 

Last xveek a violent Tornado prostrated the wood 
lots, orchards, and corn, at Bradford, and Newbury, 
tyermpnt). In the former, the house and bam of a 
?:ii^ "L^."^^"^ removed, dashed to pieces, a child 
KiUed, and its mother dangerously hurt. 

At Charieston, on the 15th ult. a boy, in hiding from 
hw plajrmates, among the logs of Craft's wharf, slip, 
ped off, and was dragged down by a Shark, which has 
since been caught, and part of the boy's coat and arm 
tound in his maw. 

On the 12th and 13th ult. much damage was ex- 
penenced m Charleston, by a violent slorm of wind. 
The street was washed away between Meeting and 
King streets, on South Bay, many trees were blown 
down m the streets, and it is feared that the planting 
interest has sustained much injury. 

The president and heads of department are on their 
way to the seat of government, where the Secretary 
of State arrived the 25th ult. 

.v^i2l'""i^ **i?*^»'"«: fi^e happened at Alexandria, 
the 24th ult. It began in a cooper's shop, near the 
wharves, adjoining Union street, in the evening, and 
raged till nearly 2 o'clock, and burnt every bunding in 
the square lying on Union street, and extending from 

a"<i5.^?""*'^ "T**- Property little short of 
» JOO.OOO is supposed to be lost, very little of which, 
was insured; but no personal injuries sustained. 

i?*55^^i* Thursday evening, the 27th ull. 
near Haddonfield, N. J. by John Clement, Esq. Mr. 
Evan Clement, to the amiable Miss Hannab Kay, all 
of that pJjce~-.At Springfield, on the 24th ult. by 
the Rev. Mr. WiUiams, Mr. Joseph Ten Brook, Mer- 
cll""^^^^^' ^® ^'" ^^''^ ^' Penman, daughter 
Tk^^o r*\f'w^1?"'«"' of Springfield In Newark, 

Miller, to Miss Catharine Peroe, both of Bloomficld. 

. m'^^'^TA^ ^.?"- °" ^^« *3t^ "^t- t^a^ hi^y respec- 
table and valuable citizen, miliamRBeerlz,^^^), 

l«:^^s^e::^rrhr ^^^^-^^ ^'^^ ^ ''^^^ 

To Subscribers and Correspondenu, 

Our friend 9 in tie Comer appearing to be such 
an adept in the Mathematics, and high bred as well 
as mettled, we couM hot deprecate her wrath, and 
sink with dismay at the untimely fate which threaten- 
ed our little darling, the Rural Visiter. 

Her « Spktfecerations,'' l^elled alt at this little 
Infjwt m our keeping, we bcUevc occasioned manv 
besides ouraelves to stare. However, since she quietiv 
commenced her "Otium cumdignitatc'-and we seethe 
chUd stiU existing, and with ito friends, feastiri«r on the 
continued ftvours of the bountiful Imham; we have 
ventured to Iweathe; and congratulate ourselves with 
hoping that th^ " bittemess is past/' If Mrs. Q ever 
turned her thoughts to any thing seriously usefuTmav 

h^^"^''^^' ^P''"^ accmSjaUng Lt ricbw to 
herself, and scattering them iir the waj of others. 
She must excuse the Editor for bis doubts relatives 

^«-C?^''°^' ''^ suspicious; and we owe our 
readers, to prevent erroneous conclusions, some further 
exposition of her fibbing propensities^lS^^T!! 
It IS an undcvutmg mle in the Office of the Rural 
l^""'' US' ^^c '° *^*^P P"^^« *he favomS of ^ 
t^nT'S^"^""'*' *'"' '° ^^'^"^ manuscripts^ter ^ 
ting them in type or forming other concisions TT^ 

^r.VTA^T^^'^y.^^''^' *»difevera^ecehw 

^W^^v^ ^^' ?"^ ^P°"^' '^ ">«' havf^ed 
accidenully, and altogether without the consent or 

th^Tjff ^^ '^"^ ^^'^"•- We shall add nS^ore Z 
the lady has put another boaid round her com^ *S 
•aid something of being " fwsh.'» «wncr, and 

P^^'scommunkation is both original and novel- but 

si^ ^""r ,°^ ^" ^"^'^ might We^ much rea- 
son to be displeased, should we d^-l^M. .^.«^^". • 

not at that time to acknowledged ™ 

Several valuable pieces meSio^ Ust «e.t . .,,^ 
Sojonrner No. I. S. and H's KtsarT^Uhli^ZL^'' " 
of agricultural and elected S^. we ^^iS^t^ 
postpone. In the ca«. of enla^ting oVpaJr'tf as 
to embftce all favours which%4 mer&oriou,' wj 


• ^i''"i!!i""^u^''*,>"* henceforth requested not 
to be <*«jected^to the Post-Office in this placeT bSt 
superscribed, J^or fie Bural Filter, and sent ft^ of ex- 
pense,to the E^tor oroneof the foUowbg^^^, 
7^^^^"^^ (orward them safely without ch^.^Tz - 
cZ^ll^T^'J^^'^n^'^'^^' or James11nh^'„: 
^mden,Richa^ M. Cooper; Woodbury, David c' 
Wood; Haddonfield, Thomas Redman. jV Moores^^ 
town, Samuel Cole; Mount-Holly, Wm. Hb^I 
New-MUls, Isaac Carlisle; Borden^t'ownrjames t 
cross; Princeton, S. Morfoid; New^runswick bZ 
nard Smith; Amboy, Simeon Drake; Woodbrid«!^ 
James Jackson? Rahway, Richard Marsh; EUzabe^! 
Town, Jamcg Chapman j Cranbury. John Handler- 
A Uentown, Daniel Leigh. •»uicy. 

Our coirespondtnts wUl oblige by forwaitiin^ all 

l^t ".r^^^^*^^ "^T *° ^*»^' whochoosTnft to 
take the addition we design to commence sendii^ out 
with number 12. Our subscriber, we exn^ Irl 
aware, that sjence gives consent, and there ^ ;onr 
It is hoped, after this additional request to con^^^ 
tub;ect,who wDl dispute the smaU addltiofuOch^^e 

Published meAfy, by D. Allinson, 


Price IwoPoUars ayeatwone half payable in advance, 
the other m six months. 

Digitized by 




" Homo sum ; bumam nihil a me alienum puto*^ — Man and his cares to me a man, are dear. 

V"Oi^. !• 


No. 11. 



No. X. 

Why is the heart of man so often sad ? 
AVhy does man, the noblest of God's crea- 
tures, pass through life, hanging down his 
hesid. like a broken bullrush.^ Why do we 
grieve at the dispensations of Providence i 
T'hese are questions that must often obtrude 
themselves upon the thoughts of a conteih- 
plative mind. But let us see whether tli:; 
cause of most of the sorrows which we feci, 
13 not to be attributed to the wrong view we 
take of things and of ourselves. For what 
then vf2Ci man created \ Was he created for 
this world, or for a future never-ending state 
of existence ? None, I hope, will say, that 
after this life is ended, we are to mingle with 
the dust of the earth, and be blotted forever 
from the book of life. If then, the soul shtU 
live forever, we must conclude, that this life 
\& but the first, and least important state of 
man. Compare it with the ages of the world 
that are already past, and the life of any one 
\ man appears but a trifle ! — ^but compare it 
, with our eternal duration in another world, 
I and !<■ immediately shrinks to mere nodiing ! 
Then why so suixious about what happ^rns 
here? ** Why take ye thought for to-n:or- 
row?" says our Saviour, ** consider the lilies 
how they grow, they toil not, they qjin 
not ; and yet, I say unto you, that Soloir.on, 
in all his glory, was not arrayed like unto one 
of these. For if CkkI so cloth the flower of 
the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is 
cast into die oven, shall he not much more 
cloth you,.0 ye of little faith f Therefore* 
take no anxious thought saying. What shall 
we eat, or what shall we drink, or where- 
xvithal shall we be dothed ; for your heavsnly 
Father knoweth that ye have need of all tnese 
things." These are the words of God himself, 
addressed Lo man. It will therefore be highly 
criminal in us, if we listen not to whu he 
\vas so expressly declared to be his holy will. 
Tile same God who^ has said, " Thou shalt 
not kill," has also -wid, " Take no anxious 
thought for to-morrow," 

The criminality of disregarding this pre- 
cept, consists. Firsts in not having a suffi- 
cient confidence in the goodness and provi- 
dence of God ; and, secondhj^ in thinking too 
hi^ily of the things of this world, and not 
thinking sutHciently of our eternal condition 
iu a world to come. Let us consider each 
of them separately. 
Firsts Anxiety arises from a w^nt of con- 

* This passage in the New Testament is incorrectly 
translated. In the original, it is, " Take no anxious 
ibcujjht for to-morrow. 

fidence in the goodness and providence of 
God. For those who are too much troubled 
about the occurrences of life, must think that 
God wants power to assist them, or that he 
wants the inclination, or that he knows not 
how. But who will be so impious as to say 
this ? Though we do not say so in words, 
yet our actions speak louder than words. 
Has not that God, who created the world 
and all therein — has not he, I say, the power 
of assisting those who, with humble confi- 
dence, look to him for assistance ? Will not 
he assist us who created us, and hath sus- 
tained and protected us thus far? " He who 
planted the eye, shall he not see ?" Can we, 
for a moment, distrust die goodness and 
paternal providence of that God who gave 
his only Son a ransom for us ? and, " will he 
not, with him, freely give us all things:" 

No one surely will deny, that providence 
over-rules all things — ^that nothing can hap- 
pen without his notice ; and that he knows, 
better than ourselves, what is good for us. 
Since then a sparrow cannot fall to the 
ground without his notice, and since he is 
both able and willing to assist those who 
humbly ask his aid, is it not tlie height of 
impiety to repine, and be anxious about any 
thing that may befal us in this world ? 

Secondly^ A fretful disposition arises from 
our thinking too highly of the things of this 
world, and not thinking sufficiently of our 
eternal condition in the world to come. In 
consequence of what was said before, we 
need not dwell long on this part of our sub- 
ject. Those who really believe in a future 
state, cannot be ignorant that diis life is but 
a state of probation — that ere long, (perhaps 
before another mondi) they must quit this 
stage of action, and enter into the eternal 
world of spirits! They must be sensible, 
that on a death bed, they will acknowledge, 
that '* all in this world is vanity and vexation 
of spirit." Then why should we grieve about 
them ? \Vhy should we fret because Provi- 
dence, in infinite wisdom and goodness, has 
thought proper to withhold from us a part of 
our desire t 

But the only way of making a proper esti- 
mate of the things of this life, is to consider 
them in relation to futurity. Too many alas ! 
act as if they were only to exist in this world. 
This makes every trifling occurrence swell 
into pompous importance. But let us only 
remember, that here we have no abiding place 
— that our only business is to obtain eternal 
bliss, and the mountains of difficulties soon 
vanish. Things that before seemed all im- 
portant, now appear unworthy of the atten- 
tion of a soul that is destined for a better 
state. So true is it, that feith cm remove 

I am not here speaking of those afflictions, 
which are the effect of our own folly ; for 
of those, surely, none has a right to com- 
plain. And we would do well to consider, 
whether many of- the sorrows which we 
ascribe to misfortune, have not been brought 
on by acting contrary to our better judg- 
ments. IMHAM. 

No. III. 


What is the spiritual meaning of believing 
in the name of Jesus Christ ? As I have in 
effect denied its literal signification, so lUnin- 
ing to every honest heathen, to Cornelius 
the centurion, to the divine Socrates, and 
others, I will endeavour to answer the ques- 
tion. If a belief in the outward name and 
testimony of Jesus Christ is saving: how 
many villains, rogues, speculatrog robbers^ 
and others among us will go to heaven ! We 
read that the disciples in the name of Jesus 
cast out devils, cured diseases : one hearing 
this, undertook to do so too: but what was 
the consequence of understanding nam^ in 
an outward sense? The evil spirit that was 
cast out, said Jesus, I know, and his disciples 
I know ; but who art thou ? For such pre- 
sumption, the Lord let lose the evil spirit 
on him, to the dismay of the spectators. 
Name is spirit and power. To do any thing 
in the name of God or Jesus, is to do it in 
the spirit and power of Jehovah. Ii this 
sense, ** the name of the Lord is a strong 
tower." And to believe in Christ's name is 
to believe, being in his spirit and in his 
power. This is the faith that can remove 
trees into the seas, and moimtains from their 
seats. This power is the gospel, or New 
Testament. It is expressly declared, ** the 
gospel IS the power of God unto salvation.^ 
H-re we see, m what way this power of God 
is exerted, to wit, to salvation. And herb 
all things are possible to God fdr them who 
believe, being in this powerful faith. This- 
will serve to explain tfie assertion of the 
gospel being preached to Abraham : and this 
power and spirit of God was not preached to 
Abraham, but to others, even to those who 
never heard the outward name of Jesus 
Christ. From this source, arise faith, hope, 
and charity. For they who feel the spirit 
and power of God, are induced from its 
own internal sensation and evidence, to con- 
fide and believe. Hopes of immortality and 
bliss succeed of course ; and the sublime 
conduct which flow from our faith and hope 
of life and immortal love in a future state of 
(gastcnce, and ftom the power and sp.irit of 

Digitized by 




God which never deceives or lies, is a dis- 
interested and self-denying love or charity, 
thiit is humble, meek, long-suffering, full of 
mi^rcy and good works. Tnus we can 
observed, that Christ the light, who is also 
called the Power and Wisdom of God, and 
who is said to enlighten the heart of every 
man who cometh into the world ; for in die 
words written in Job; " On whom hath not 
his light arisen ;" is called the author and 
finisher of our faith. And how truly so; 
when it is he, shining in our conscience, 
shows us sin, righteousness, and judgment to 
come. This is a knowledge of our condi- 
tion : knowledge is the foundation of faitli.; 
so that to increase the former is to increase 
the latter. For the more we know of any 
science, as astronomy, or chemistry, the 
more we are induced to believe in that sci- 
ence. What we know, we cannot be said to 
believe. Belief looks forward to that which 
is to come : belief confides in v.hat Christ 
promises by his spirit operating in the heart. 
Some things we hioiv^ The spirit in Jesus 
has said, *' My sheep knoiv my voice, and 
they follow me ; a stranger^s voice they will 
not follow.'^ Some things we are compelled 
by clearness of truth to ^^//6t>e. Thus: feel- 
mg the love and goodness of God — feeling 
tlie oppressions and calamities of this life, 
we a^e irt*esistibly led to see as at a distance, 
a crown of life laid up in heaven for those 
who endure hardships here for Christ's sake. 
CT*f*he concluded in oar next. J 


No. VI. 

The fermentation of liquors has been di- 
vided into three stages ; the vinous, the ace- 
tous, and the putrefactive. The first takes 
place in such bodies only as contain a con- 
siderable portion of sugar, end is always 
attended with the decomposition of that 
smbstance. The liquor giadually loses its 
sweetness, and acquires an intoxicating quali- 
ty, and by distillation affords a greater or 
less quantity of ardent spirit according to the 
quantity of sugar it origmally contained, and 
the. skill with which the process has been 
conducted. WTien this fermentation procsteds 
' with too much rapidity*, it is often confound- 
ed with the acetous ; but the products of 
that^fire totally different. 

A violent degree of fermentation, how- 
ever, thoug^^purely vinous, is. extremely 
injurious to tne strength and permanence of 
cider, owing to a part of the ardent spirit 
being discharged aloii^ with the disengaged 
air. , 

"tht acetous fermentation usually succeeds 
the vinous ; but it will sometimes precede it, 
when tlie liquor is in small quantity, and 
exposes a large surface to the air. In this, 
vital air is absorbed from the atmosphere, 
rnd the ardent spirit, vegetable acid, and 
sugar, if any remain, are alike converted 
into vinegar. 

In the putrefactive process, which follows 
the acetous, the vinegar loses its acidity, 
becomes foul and viscid, and emits air of an 
off n5ive smell ; an earthy sediment subsides, 
and the remaining liquid is little but water* 

As sugar is the only component part ?* 
the apple which produces ardent spirit, *t 
might thence be inferred that the strongest 
ciders would be afforded by the the sweetest 
fruits ; but the juice of these generally re- 
mains defective' in what is termed '* Body" 
in liquors, and it is extremely apt to pass 
from the saccharine to the acetous state. 
Much of the strength of cider is supposed by 
the Herefordshire farmers, to be derived 
from tlie rind and the seeds of the fhiit ; and 
hence arises their great attention to grind it 
Ihorovghlij ; the stalks also are necessarily 
reduced, when the apples are thoroughly 
ground \ and the body of the liquor may 
possibly be strengthened and its flavour im- 
proved by the astringent juice of these ,• yet 
it does not appear probable that either of 
these contain any saccharine matter. 

The strongest ciders (and I believe the 
strongest wines) are made from fruits which 
possess some degi-ce of astrigcncy. And 
this quality is so necessary in the peai*, that 
I have never known a single instance in 
which perry made from fruits that were 
without it, did not become sour before the 
middle of the succeeding summer. 

The period which will elapse before the 
vinous fermentation takes place in the juice 
of the apple, is extremely uncertain. If the 
fruit be immature, and the weatlier warm, it 
will commence in less than twenty-four 
hours ; but when the fruit has been thorough- 
ly ripened, and the weather proves cold, it 
will remain a week, or fortnight, or longer, 
without the least apparent change ; particu- 
larly in the juice of those fruits which pro- 
duce the strongest ciders. \u the commence- 
ment of fermentation, the dimensions of 
the liquor are enlarged, an intestine motion 
is observable in the cask, and bubbles of 
fixed air begin to rise and break on the sur- 
face. If the cask be placed in a vault or 
other situation where there is but little 
change of temperature, the fermentation will 
generally proceed till the whole of the sac- 
charine part is decomposed, and the liquor 
is become rough and unpalatable to those 
unaccustomed to it in this state. But as 
ciders which contain a considerable degree 
of sweetness are most vahtabk^ much atten- 
tion is employed to prevent an excess of 
ftrmention. This is usually done bif pUicing 
the casks in the open dir^ which is the m,06t 
effi^ctual method ; or tn sheds throv^h which 
there is a free current ofit^ and by drawing 
off the liquor from one cask to another, and 
sometimes by exposing it to tlie air in flat 
shallow vessels, whenever the fermentation 
proceeds with too much rapidity. By the 
first of these means the liquor is kept cool, 
and its decomposition is in consequence re- 
tarded ; but the effect of racking off unless 
the liquor be bright, does not appear to be 
so M'^ell ascertained. It is generally done 
with a view to cool it, but heat is rarely, or 
never, disengaged in the fermentation of 
cider ; and the air through which it passes, 
when the operation is performed in the day, 
is usually several lines warmer than the body 
it is supposed to cool. Some degree of cold 
will no doubt be produced by evaporation ; 
but never sufficient to produce the total su.*^- 

|)ension of fermention, which takes placf 
jifter the liquor has been drawn off from one 
psk to another. Ii no doubt gives out some- 
thing to, and may possibly receive something 
from the atmospheric air^ with which it can 
lever have been properly in contact, having 
^Iway been covered with a stratum of fixed 
air. This may at any time be proved by 
Ijolding a lighted candle close to its surface, 
vhere it will be immediately extinguished. 

No. IV. 

The changeableness of dress and caprices 
o/ fashion, are no small evils. The causes 
w)iich produce them have also infested lan- 
guage wit^ protean and whimsical changes, 
bqth in the use and in the pronunciation of 
words. The opulent and great of mankind 
are, in general, so fond of distinction and 
pn-eminenee, that if the vulgar yeomanry 
approach in dress or diction too near their 
id^al majesties, they retire into some new 
indented dr^ss and dialect ; while the vulgar 
miijtitude are thoughdess and silly enough 
to fursue them : 

*' The vulgar thus through iunitation cit, 

Tbc learuM as oft, by being singular. 

S0 much these sconi the croud, that if the throng 

By chance go right, they purposely go wrong," 

This is the true reason for some of the 
late alterations of accent. Walker says ex- 
pressly, " that the reason for accenting, 
Conirarili/j Contritely^ &c. on the first svl- 
labk is on this veiy account." " For," says 
he, ^* aldiough it is A^rr^;^, it \s polite: and 
although the accent on the second s}]lal Ic is 
har^oniousy yet it is \^ulgar. And there- 
fore such words as the following are also 
accented on the first syllable, to wit: Accepta- 
ble ^ Commendable^ Consistory^ Desultory 
Disputable yDissohiblcy Peremptory ^ Recepta- 
blcs Receptoryy Recondite^ Rifragable, Re- 
pertory ^ Remediless^ Revocable^ Susceptabie^ 
Substltory^ &c. &c. Thus our coimtr\' is 
imposed on, by the fashionable worldv 
who love to be different frcm the vulgar 
*in almost every thing :. and the use, beauty, 
and permanency of language is destroved. 
Pedants, lords, and coxcjoraical nobles be- 
come tlie ^^ jus et norma Jnquendi^^^ or law of 
word}^ and pronunciation, Avho introduce 
strangt, outlandish, lignum-vitcc words from 
dead 3nd living languages by hundreds. Per- 
mit nte to address them in some of their 
high terms. 

** Ye beau-nionde, and supravulgar optj- 
macy, when your virtu^ prohibits yonr gout 
(goo) ^m anastomatising with the vogues 
and nescience of the plebian sept, and propels 
you by.a pedantic abbt^rration from perspicu- 
ity into erudite or exuberent bathos, novit}-, 
and sa|)ience, to titulate the gust of dolts, 
succujitbent to the gubemation of a dominant 
concupiscence; opine then, ye deities ter- 
restial, on the omnipotent Jehovah, with 
trepidation, whose verity in you ought to 
irradiate your soul, like a solar luminar}-, 
through all your diurnal and mundane per- 
ambulations on diis sublunnr\' orb. Pui^'sart 

Digitized by 




is verity, and is from Jehovah ; and v.ith 
omnipotence denudates our improbities ; re- 
legates, detruncates, and ejects peccancy, 
polylogy, stultiloquence, nugacit}', vacillancy, 
qucrimoniousness, and pugnacity ; elicits 
charity and lucidity in the nubilated and 
adunque intellect, aberuncating the cecu- 
tiency of the myoped, or cecity of the illucid 
sensorium-, and acting as an occulus, or as a 
concave lens to the optic nerves of the nycta- 
lops. She develops pneumatolog}', theologj', 
and ontology. She loves ethics, obsequious- 
ness, sedulity, suavity, sequacity, pudicity, 
pauciloquy, laconism, psycholog}% and the- 
urgy. She is sapience herself, whose habi- 
t'cince is in ublquit}'. She is sempiternal, 
omnific, omniscious, and beneficent. Felicity 
exists in obsequiousness to her behests, and 
confidence in her amity. Oppugn not her 
volition, or thou wilt be submerged in ob- 
tenebration, aberrance, and rescipiscence, 
and become an ofFuscated noctivigant of 
lunary ratiocination. But appro;; inque to 
her, the solar luminary of every microcos- 
mic bipid of thy species, whom she oft ob- 
jurgates for oberations after ignis-fatuuses. 
Convert to her, lest she occlude thee from 
caelestial extacies, in that optable and ultra- 
mundane elysium, where no terreous suspi- 
rations and lacrymations molest !" 

Botany, anatomy, physic, philosophy, &c. 
contain thousands of such outlandish terms. 
I'll give an instance. C. G. Rafinesque 
Schmalts, a liite Botanist, describes the 
*^ one fioxvered eu^horby : Stems procum- 
bent, furcated; leaves semisessile, semicune, 
jTiarginated ; peduncle solitary, terminal in 
the fork ; unifiorous." How prettily this 
imitates the preceding example ! Knowledge 
as well as wealth is monopolized by the 
opulent. Interest, rents, and inheritances, 
and not industiy, are the means of accumi- 
latlng wealth. These Jaw-breakers, derived 
from many languages, and bad orthography 
and accentuation, serve to keep the laborious 
in ignorance. Hence arises one reason for 
continuing permanently our bad spelling. 
I Ij jlicve fully, that among more than 40,000 
words in our Uuiguage, it is wholly impossi- 
ble to find 40 words spelled according to the 
, true pronunciation. And why is it so \ Be- 
cause it is vulgar tb ^pell words as they are 
pronounced. Truth is opposed, while ortho- 
graphy is made' to deceive or lie through 
every ivord of our language, excepting about 
20 'A-ords. Thus, while we pronounce one 
lang'uage, we very learnedly write another. 
I^iie gx>ds of this world, as is said, Psal. 82d, 
*" W'alk on in darkness, (spiritual darkness;) 
so thiit all the foundations of the eanh are 
cut of course." For the whole world lieth 
in \vxckednes3; contending against the al- 
mighty and his truth, and oppressinij the 
^•rell disposed in every department ol civil 
rnd religious matters. 

I>r- lienjamin Rush, on the billious ycl- 
I )\v' fever of 1793 says, " Reason and hu- 
manity awake from their long rq)ose, and 
unite in proclaiming, that it is time to take 
the euro of pestilential epidemics out of the 
} lands of the physicians, and place it in the 
liands of the people. Tlic suKill-pnx was 
fince as fatal as the yellow fever, or plague. 

It has since yielded as universally to a vege- 
table diet and evacuations in the hands of 
apothecaries, clerg}^, and even of the good 
women, as it did in the hands of doctors of 
physic. A new order is rising in medicine, 
and it is no more necessary that a patient 
should be ignorant of the medicine he takes, 
to be cured by it, than the business of govern- 
ment should be conducted with secrecy, in, 
order to insure obedience to just laws. Much 
less is it necessary that the means of life be 
prescribed in a dead language, or dictated in 
the solemn pomp of a necromancer.*' 
Rush speaks like a man of sense. 


Mr. Editor, 

The folloxving is from a manuscript written 
by an old man in the 79th year of his a^e^ 
and has never yet appeared in print : if 
you think it worthy a place in yaur paper ^ 
it is at yonr service^ 


Drunkenness is a vice that reduces the 
drunkard below the standard of the meanest 
brute in the brute creation. Those are 
placed in a low state, and furnished with 
powers equal to it, for wise and glorious 
ends, and they exert those powers agree- 
ably to the direction of the giver ; but man, 
the lord of the creation, also furnished with 
abilities suitable to his state, acts counter to 
the great design, and instead of using his 
powers, he deprives himself of them. See 
the drunkard deprived of his reason, nay, 
his very senses, wallowing like a hog in the 
mire, or staggering in the midst of unnum- 
bered dangers, unable to guard himself 
against the slightest accident, though threat- 
ened with death in a thousand forms ; or 
perhaps raging like a far)', dealing destruc- 
tion to all within his compass, and spreading 
desolation with an extended arm, uttering 
the most shocking imprecations and horrid 
blasphemies, defying hell to produce a more 
abandoned reprobate than himself, and dar- 
ing heaven to execute vengeance upon hito ! 
Can this be esteemed consistent with the 
design of Eternal Wisdom, which is eternally 
and universally good, and which therefore 
could not "approve, though it permit such 
enormities \ Can this be esteemed conduct 
suitable to the superior station of man? Nay, 
would not any thing similar to this be a dis- 
grace to the meanest reptile ! ! 

But so far are we from taking shame to 
ourselves, tliat we impudently boast of these 
things, we jcr^ indeed grown up to such matu- 
rity in wickedness as to plead one crime in 
excuse for another. " I may be excused be- 
cause I was in liquor," is an apology fre- 
quently made by the oflFender, and as fre- 
quently admitted by the offended ; as if to 
be guilty of one sinful act were unpardonable, 
whilst a complication of sins might plead for 
one another. Is it possible for man to be 
guilty of more enormous wickedness than 
this we have been animadverting upon? 
Were we to consult one of those men whom 
we call savages, he would undoubtedly put 
his negative upon this question. But wretch- 

ed experience lays us under the necessity of 
giving our affirmative. The man who runs 
on in the practice of drunkenness, sinks be- 
neath the standard of the meanest brute ; 
but he who can entice another to be a par- 
taker of the same folly, sets himself upon a 
level with the blackest devil ! It is the pro- 
vince of devils to tempt men to commit sin ; 
it is the only gratification of their vengeful 
ire ; at least it is the only one we are permit- 
ted to know. When man invades this pro- 
vince, he does their drudgcr}', and by so 
doing he assumes their character ; but when 
man assumes the character of a devil, he may 
and frequently does exceed him in it : they 
may tempt, but they cannot compel ; whereas 
one man makes it his pride to compel another 
to be worse tfian the beasts that perish, and 
by this measure nudces himself worse than 
the devils, who exist only to be miserable. 

Disease and its companion Death, are the 
certain attendants — the swift pursuers of 
Intemperance, and by tllese must be opened 
a scene that is frightful only to think of! 
When the soul is once separated from the 
body — ^when the wretch is deprived of all 
those pleasures wherein he placed his whole 
delight, and opposed to what he cannot en- 
joy — to what his vitiated appetite cannot 
relish ; how he will wish he had considered, 
in his day, the things that belong to his 
peace ! T he time when this must happen is 
uncertain, though the thing itself is sure. 
This, one would imagine, scarcely pos- 
sible, that a man can so far debilitate his 
intellectual faculties, as not to recollect 
that die inhabitants of the Old World were 
eating and drinking, and* giving themselves 
up a pi'ey to lust, when suddenly the flood 
came and swept them away, in a day which 
they thought not of, and at an hour when 
they were not aware ! — Let this be remem- 
bered* S. 

A Rhetorician, in a reeent treatise tqxm his art, 
after recounting some of the most common errors in 
elocution, proceeds, ** To avoid these inconveniences, 
you ought to have a clear; strong voice." This the 
Monthly Reviewers say, reminds them of a recipe \n 
an old Book on the Art of Cookery, ** How to dress a 
Dolphin ; first, catch a Dolphin." 



There is a spot — I love its pensive shade; 

Where scarce a foot save mia^ e'er treads the bend^ 

ing grass : 
Ii is a spot for contemplation made, 
Where giddy mirth and riot never— never pass. 

It is a spot where twilight blandly throws 
A solemn soothing shafde o'er every object near; 
A spot, where at the day's soft stealing close, 
The murmur of the world just falls upon the ear. 

There creeps a stream 1 on whose untrodden shore« 
A Sycamore's huge roots ■ folds fantastic twiner 
Where many a thought, in sweet poetic lore, 
In characters uncouth, forms many a crooked line. 

There oft I've found, rth pleasures ever new. 
The roughly-penciled thoughts of a congenial mind'-« 
Thoughts there inspired, and which, or ere Uiey flew. 
Were to Sibylline tablets, on the bark con^gn^. 

In this loved spot, while light to darkness yields, 
Officious mem'r\- oft will • vanish 'd hours retrace :* 
And here sp oft the tear )f pleasure steals, 
That, Ptfui'oe Pletuurc't Ifbok, We nam'd the fav'Titr 


Digitized by 

/^^ T MR, 





Addressed to a young' Lady xvith a Lily of 
the Valley. 

Sweet modest flower I droop not thy head ; 

Shall then thy beanues die ? 
IVe pluck'd thee from thy fragrant bed 

'Tis true— but know'st thou why ? 

Think'st thou, fair lUy of the vale, 

I come with wanton sway 
To nip thy bloom, thy sweets inhale* 

Then throw thee spoil 'd away ? 
No! come with me— and Ai>na*8 breay: 

Shall be thy blissful home : 
There love and beauty shall invest 

With virgin veils thy bloom. 

In hallowed chains united— there 

Each shall its grace bestow ; 
Thy sweets shall fill the ambient aii>p- 

Her breast with truth shall glow : 
Thus two fair Vi'lets— sisters twaiw. 

In some sequestered shade 
Heciprocatc perfumes, and claim 

The empire of the glade* 

Sweet lily ! virgin bud of May; 

Thou'rt there in genial soil : 
Bac art thou then like me— ah! 8a.y, 

A slave in Anna's toil ? 

Oould but the Muse himself thus plac6 

On Beauty's fair empire, 
He'd ask not life— but one embrace. 

In rapture to expire. 
So lovely flower, droop not thy head, 

Thy beauties sliall not die; 
IVe pluck'd thee from thy fragrant bed, 

In fairer scenes to lie. Q: 

For the rural visiter. 

As sweetly Wew the midnight gale. 
And all was silent in the vale, 
When care and sorrow iunk to rest. 
Bright visions cheer*d the happqr b^casC ^ , 

Long I had wander'd in the wood, 
Till by a humble cot I stood ; 
Weary, lask'd beneath its shed 
A shelter for my 2jr^\r% head: 
A form appeared with aspect mild ^ ' 

Leading a sportive, lovely child ; 
Time on each feature left his trace. 
Which on^ heightened every grace; 

Pale was her cheek, but sweet her mein^ - 

Like as an angel form was seen— 

With accents soft, persuasive* such 

As every feeling heart must touch: * 

«« Each weary wanderer here may resti 

Here he shall be a welcome guest. 

Then enter now— no longer stray 

In dangers dark and dismal way." 

The little Being by her side 

Frolick'd around its «ober guide, 

Then smiling, artless, blithe and gay. 

It took my hand and led the way. 

Within this calm and blest retreat, 

The heart to joy responsive beat; 

Its walls around with flowers were dress'd. 

Whose sweetness charm'd but not oppressed: 

In midst of all, a Maid whose air. 
Soon spoke her free from every care. 
Bright was her eye, and such her smile 
That e'en could heart-felt grief beguile. 

The playful child now danced around, 
Now sprung in air— now touch 'd the ground- 
Now cuUM the sweetest buds, and now 
Plac'd them on the maiden's brow. 

-The elder host, to wile the hour. 
Stray 'd o'er the past, and pluckM each fiow'ri 
And if perchance a thorn wa& near, 
Which striking deep would draw a tear. 

The younger, quick by magic given, 
Would brush the drop, and point to Heaveit' 
But hark ! 'tis* seraph sounds I hear, 
"^hese accents vibrate on my ear S'-* 

" Pilgrim, here forever dwell. 
This is Virtue* s holy cell. 
Memory here will bliss impart. 
Fancy* frolicks please the heart; 

As you eye the wish'd for g^al, 
Hope triumphant cheers the sonl.'^ 
Yes, now here Fll fix my reign 
Free from sorrow, free from pain; 

Virtue now shall be my stay, 
Fancy** visions gild the way ; 
AikI if Memory dims my eye, 
Uope shall point it to the sky. 

A. B. 


The two Lilies^ the Florist and the Bear. 

The Summer's pleasing season now is past, 
And Autumn chills us with his rigid blast; 
Let us reflect what prudence we have leam'd. 
What wisdom in the summer month's discerned ; 
I've heard a tragic tale, tho* grief remam. 
Yet if we learn discretion, that is gain. 
Two Lilies of the fairest virgin hue. 
In the same vale, nigh to each other grew; . 
One gave her beauties to the blaze of day, 
from the bold gaze the other tum'd away. 
And if a savage chanced to pass. 
Would veil her beauties in surroundUng grass. 

Thro' this same vale, one most unhappy day, 
A lordly Bear, slow sauntering found his way: 
The forward flower, impatient to be seen. 
Display *d the beauties of her shape and mien, 
Tum'd on her stem, to meet his haughty eyes. 
And bade the sweetest gales of fragrance rise. 
A leaf he crop'd, but scarcely own'd 'twas sweet, 
Then trod the beauteous flower beneath his feet: 
Warn'd by her s'lster's fate, the living flower 
Grew still more cautious each succeedin hour, 
And if a brutal creature came in sight. 
Would close her leaves, and veil her beauties quite. 

'At last a Florist came, the meads to trace. 
True friend to flowers^ and guardian of their race : 
She heard his honest fame, in whrspering gales. 
Which |»re the fragrance of the blossom'd vales : 
*Tis true, each bee, each bird, each insect said. 
Who on the sweetness of his garden fed. 
As gaily he drew nigh with Looks serene. 
The flower, tho* mcxlest, ventur'd to be seen. 
With gentle touch, and gentle breath its hue. 
Partly her beauties met his raptur'd view* 
Her lovely colour beaming on his sight. 
Her fragrance fiU'd his sense with keen delights 

With gentlest hand he rear'd her tender head; 
And soon transplanted to his choicest bed ; 
Where nurs'd by all his cares, by days and hours. 
She fiU'd his garden with the sweetest flowers. 

Ye LILIES sweet, of fawr COLUMBIA'S vale, 
Learn safe instruction from this moral talc ; 
Let modest caution always be your care. 
And tho' you love a FLORIS T, shim a BEAR. 

^unc^By another hami. 

Yc who instruction for our youth prepare, 
How shall we know the Florist from the B^ar? 
' Sweet winning smiles may hide a savage heart. 
And virtue's guise to vice its form impart. M. W. 

To M. M. and M A 
The broidered hair, the well wrought chaiVis of gold 
And drops of polished pearl to grace the neck. 
Ye calmly disregard— The mazy dance 
And music*^} magic charms in vain invite 
Your steps ; the busy careless throng intent 
Of follies votaries, still to bear the palm. 
To win you to their purpose — strive in vain: 
Phantastic fashions, changing as the wind 
Ne'er charm the mind ei^ross'd by nobler cares. 

Like Mary, ye the better part have chose. 
From which, nor time, nor all the powers of earth. 
Or air, shall separate you — taught by the great 
Apostle of our race, full well ye know 
True grace resides not in the diamond's blaze, 
Or bumish'd gold, or gems the world calls precious; 
But ill modesty and meekness, pearls of price-— 
These were the ornaments that once adom'd 
The goodly Surah, mother of the blest. 

Ye sister pair— your labours still pursue, 
Of Gilliads balm, continue to impart, 
And carry with you wheresoe'er you go 
Peace to the afflicted spirit — ^to'the 
Dispairing, hope, and charity divine 
To all — Immanuels wondrous love your theme. 
Your counsel and support — And O, may "faith 
Which vwr|ts by love, and purifies the heart'; 
Be all your own—That when this youthful pulse 
Whose beatings now speak health and length of dayjs- ' 
Shall cease to throb, and earths dark cavern shuts 
Upon it's prey — when the last solemn truiilp 
Shall sound aloud and call the dead to life, 
The answer of " Well done" may greet your ears. 
Then robes celestial such as Seraphs wear, 
Shall shroud your forms; and Crowns immortal 
Grace your polish 'd brows. The musick of the Spheres 
In heavenly harmony shall then awake 
Each sense to rapture, and to join the choir 
In Hallelujahs to the great I AM. K 

Mt HoUy. Oct.2nd. 1810. 


FoBEiCN — Accounts from Cadiz, of undoubted 
authority, state, that the Cortes were to meet in 
August, for the purpose of electing a regent from one 
of the royal &mily of Spain. As the duke of Orltaiks 

was at Cadiz, it was supposed he would be elcctca. 

From other sources we learn that things ren.ained in 
that city much as represented by the late accounts 
received here — that the fortTfications were nearly com- 
pleted, the inhabitants in good spirits, with plenty of 
provisions; but considerable difficulty was experienced 
ni procuring water in consequence of their being an- 
noyed by the French. The English army was sickly 
of a fever and ague, and the French short of provi- 
sions. It is said that Buonaparte has annexed the 
Territory in Spain, north of the Ebro, not to France* 
but to h4s omn personal property We understand that 
the Dey of Algiers has declared war against France, 
^ and that all English ships taken by the Algerincs, are 
to be restored immediately. 

B> Capt. Austin, schooner Dash, 27 days from La- 
guira, wc have official accounts of a revolution in San- 
ta Fee, A Junta or Ccngress is established, who have 
pppohited a president. The spirit of liberty and inde- 
pendence seems to be rapidly spreading ovex this 
tyranizcd part of America. 

DoMSSTic— A patent has been granted to Mr. Jolm 
Bedford of Philadelphia, for making iroJt tound boots 
andshoesi which, it is sakl, wear fully twice as long as 
the common kind, keep their, sliape much better, are 
not so liabl^o lip, and are manufactured sixt:v:es as 
expedttiously. As these parent shoes require very little 
sewing, the greater part of the flax annually used as 
shoe thrtad, might be appropriated to making linen j 
and one being sufBclent to do the work of six, should 
this m^hodbe adopttd. the sons of Crispin, who will 
then wajat employment, may embrace that opporiunity 
to deserve the tbar.ka cf xbeir coumrj by becoming cultiva- 
tors of the sosl. 

Onuhe 27ih ult. about noon, the new powder miJU 
of Mc Worrell, at Frar.kford,,Penns)lvania, blew up 
with a tremendous explosion: The workmen fortu< 
nattly being at dinner, no livjfs were lo^t. 

On the same day as a drove of cattle were passing 
accross the new bridge at the Falls of Schuylkill, the 
works suddenly gave way, and part of the superstruc- 
ture fell into ihc rivti:. 

Makiiiei>— At Newark, by the Rev. Mr. Whelpler, 
Mr. Wm. Stewart, to Miss Isabella White, .ill of that 
place-^At Portsmouth, by the Rev. Dr. Buckminister, 
the /ion. Wm. Jiustis, Secretary at War, to Mits Caro" 
line Mangdon, daughter of the late Judge Lang^don 
At Friends' Meeting-house in this city, on the 4rh 
Instant, Isaac Collins, jun. merchant of New. York, to 
Margaret Morris, jun. daughter of Dr. John Motrin 
of Philadelphia, detjcased— AtCoklenham, N.York, 
on the 30th ulu by the Rev. Mr. King, j^ohn Wads^ 
%oorth, Esq. of New-York, to Miss Aiicv C. WiUr^^ 
daughter of Col. Willet, 6f the former place. 

DiBx>— On the 50th ult. at Philadelphia, George Ed^ 
dy of that city, in the 47th year of his age. 

maammmmmmsttmmmmmmmrwmmmt0e n\B M\ ■ nwn w 1 1 j ii \ . mm m 

Published Weekly^ by D. Allinson^ 

OITY or B.URI.2NCT0W, W. J. 

Prfc« twoDpUars a year — one half payable rn td\iirsce-r 
the oihfr in-T!^ m^nil.s 

Digitized by 



" Homo sum ,■ humani nihil a me alienum puto^—Man and hia caret tome a man, are dear. 

VOI„ r. 


is.. - 1. 


No. XL 

Some liave fo? wits, then poets pa»t, 

Tum'd critics next, and prov'd plain fook at last. 


H ippcning the other day to stumWir into 
my uncle Lynx's libran^, my attention was 
arrested by a small folio, whose torn and 
ragged cover convinced me that it had often 
andi for a long time been handled. Raised 
to the very tiptoe of curiosity, I hauled an 
old large pine table that was standing ner.r 
me, into the middle of the room, and in 
h;iste laid the folio upon it# I opened it, 
and to my agreeable surprize, found it con- 
tained a large collection of characters deline- 
ated by ray uncle's pen. I glanced at some 
of them, and finding them peculiarly applica- 
ble to the present age, was resolved to make 
some extracts for the continuation of the 
Recorder, whenever I might he seized with 
the confounded malady called the " lack of 
ideas.** They will doubtless meet with the 
approbation of the world ; but if they do not, 
I shall be consoled with the pleasing reflec- 
tions, that my dear grandmother will derive 
exceeding great joy from them, ns she truly 
supf>oses them to be written by my learned 
uncle himself a&d no other. The following 
sketch I take from the nine hundred and 
ninetj'-ninth page of this most valuable work. 

" Miss Critic is a lady of the first fi^hion, 
and wishes to be thought mighty learned ; 
though in reality she has nothing to r^ceaai- 
mend her as such, save her intolerable pro- 
pensity for criticising. Now as this requires 
a considerable portion of judgment, i^ul is 
the sole pursuit of this lady, we must neres- 
sarily conclude, that she is estecmerl r.ithe 
Grade of the agew This is really .the case ; 
for by some magic art or other, she can pas^^ 
as correct 'a judgment on an essanir. of any 
description, by reading only two or three 
lines, as though she had read it with the 
greatest attention from beginning to end. 
Nay,^the genius she displays in deciding on 
the merits of a composition far surpasses 
oven that of 

•* Tycho Brache or Em Pater ; 

For he by isometric f»cale 

Could take ihe sixe of po ^> of ale; * 

Hcs.Mvc h\ pines and tangi'juf strait 

If brvad or butter wanted ** eight. 

And wisely tell what Itour o'the day 

The clock does strike, by Algebra " 

Wiss Crime's lively iin:»^-ii»ation and ex- 
alte, il j^uiius forbid her from descending from 
tile high and lofiy employment of criticising 
on orLtiography, to the lov airrl degrading 
pursuit oi storing her mioU with the ideas of 

the aythor. To imbibe these would be dero- 
gatory to her character. And though she 
does pore over an essay from mormng till 
night, it is only with an intention to disclose 
to the admiring world her deep penetration, 
capacitv* of discerning the slightest faults, 
and that her 

Critic eye, that microscope of wit. 

Sees hairs and pores, examines bit by bit. 


This noble talent joined with her praise- 
worthy loquacity, strikes conviction into the 
mind with so much force, that one would no 
mofe attempt to utter a word in opposition, 
than by our breath to change the course of 
the wind. Her liberality, though not iri the 
common acceptation of the word, but in 
bestowing a profusion of violent invectives 
on an author, procures her the greatest re- 
spect in the literan'- world." 

This last assertion of my uncle Lynx, has 
been confirmed by the expressions of my 
grandmother, whom I, without the least 
hesitation, would rank with the first rate 
characters in the literary world. 'After I had 
read this sketch to her, she with all imagina- 
ble surprize, raised with her two hands thf 
spectacles that had been perched upon her 
nose, and opened her mouth and eyes, as if 
confounded at what she had heard. A total 
cessation of her breathing ensued, .tod she 
was unable to utter a word ; till at length 
she (exclaimed with emotions of admira^on, 
while her countenance at the same time l>e- 
spoke the pleasure she felt, that one at least 
of iier sex could be found, who had arrived 
at so ^eat a degree of pre-eminence in liter- 
ature : ** Surprizing that Lady Critic is pos- 
sessed of such deep penetration, as to be 
enabled to discover tlie merits of an essay 
by reading only two or three lines, which 
perhaps contain no more than twenty or 
thirty words ! Her abilities must be exceed- 
ingly great indeed ! Nay, much greater than 
those of any man I have ever heard of; for 
I defy the most learned of them to form a 
correct judgment of an essay without reading 
the whole.'^ B. 


" O Vanit}% thou constant seducer ! How 
do all thy efforts to elevate, tend only to sink 



Altho' I have often felt the full force of my 
motto, yet I frankly confess that I have one 
spark too much of this ingredient in my com- 
position, and under its influence as I was 
confined to my bed with a distressing fever, 
in order to pass away the very tedious hours, 
I felt an impression to "lend a hand" to the 
Rural Visiter. 

We may lay too much stress on the above 
sentence, for a no less celebrated author than 
Rouchefoucalt observes, that *' if we take 
from mankind ipnbition and vanity, we shall 
have no heroes and patriots." 

Tho^ it appeared not improbable that my 
high fever made me a litde delirious, I hap- 
pened to recollect, that a very great genius 
asserts, that Nat Lee*s most inimitable flights 
of imagination were composed when he was 
frantic: as, when representing a passionate 

'*Away! beg^one! and give a whirlwind roondf 

Or I will blo>v yoQ np to dust 

Eternal discord, fury, re\'enge, 

Despair and indignation— tear my swoln breutt 

Make way for fire and tempest !'* Stc. 

I acknowledge I love to sec tnergv' in d 
poet and in an orator, and even in a quaker 
preacher: It is recorded that a person ^ho 
had been much abused, made a complaint to 
Dfrmcsthcnes in i cold and inapimate style, 
of the injuries he had received: " not you 
replied thi sage, you have not suffered as you 
pretend — I (..mnot believe you.** This roused 
the indig7i'Jtion of the complainant, he jumps 
up, ^ what!'' be exclaims with great emotion^ 
tearing open his coat and shirt to show hi^ 
bruises^ **did I not receive these blows ?" &c 
"O ycs^ now vidfedyp^ 9peak injured 
man, now I am fully convinced of the truth 
hf your assertions, and need no better proof 
than the manner ^o which you speak." 

It win (it observed, thatf^am very uncon«> 
nected, hQ>r can it otherwise be tmder the 
influence of •» raging fever— perhaps it may 
be most prudent to say litde more, my first 
inducement in tdcing up the pen was, by in- 
serting my motto to give a broad hint to thn 
Mrritcr of the Critical Masquerade in the 8th.; 
num^*T of the Rural Visher. 

•* When flattery glares, all hate it in a Queen** 



Mr. Knight, in his report of the transacti- 
ons of the Horticultural oocietv, mentions an 
improved method of culdvatmg the alpine 
Strawberry. The process consists of sowing 
the seed on a moderate hot-bed in the beg^* 
ning of april, and removing the plants as soon 
as ttiey have acquir d sufficient strength, to 
beds in the open ground. They will begin to 
blossom after midsummer and afford an abun 
-dant autumnal crop. Mr. K. thinks that this 
strawberry ought sdways to be treated as an 
annual plant. 

^ Books are t * the boul what the sun id 
to the earth ; they enlighten it and qualify it 
for society.'* 

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Est proprium sitiititia aliorum vitia ccrnere, oblivisci 

Fools are apt to forget their own faultg, but to perceive 
imi>erfections in others. 

It is a common idea to suppose, that tliere 
13 no kaowledgi so dUficult and so rare as 
that of self. It has however frequently oc- 
curred to me, that what we consider a^s evi- 
dence of this ignorance of ourselves, proves 
nothing more than that we arc endeavouring 
to blind others. Men of common percep- 
tion arc, wc ever fmd, able to perceive the 
faulty "parts of the character of another, and 
why not thei/o\vn? Vanity has seldom an 
iniluence so powerful as entirely to preclude 
the operation of reason ; and even allowing 
that its power was so very great as is some- 
times supposed, I much question whether it 
would prevent our perceiving our own faults- 
How frequently does the ver}- wish to find 
any thing beautiful or agreeable, make us 
more quick in perceiving the opposite quali- 
ties ? Our perception is sharpened, our ob- 

* servation is more curious in search of excel- 
lencies, and in looking for them we seldom 
overlook blemishes. Men of sense and un- 
derstanding are generally correct in their 
behaviour ; by examining with scrutiny their 
own charaoters they perceive what is faulty, 
and endeavour to amend it ; they study the 
conduct of others, and transplant those par- 
ticvdar parts which are generally admired 
into themselves,' and associate it in their own 
composition ; where they perceive blemishes 
and imperfections in others, they study to 
eradicate them from themselves, or endea- 
vour to avoid them. How CQfl|es it that we j* 
daily see instances of m«h who progress in 
exc'llence? Did these men not see their 
defects and tlieir powers of amendment, we 
coidd nbt suppose that the : ^aald abandon 
their former haWts, and ai^pum^' .different 

. ones. Wc should reiifiember A» distinctipn 
between an internal conscioumcss and an 
outward expression ; few have the magna- 
nimity to acknowledge their own faults: 
but a still smaller number want understand-", 
ing to perceive them. Nothing is more 
common among, men of the world, as 
they are termed, than to conceal their real 
characters from strangers until they perg&ive 
how they will assimilate ; and how frequent- 
ly do we sec persons studiously endeavour- 
ing to conceal particular points in their cha- 
racters, when they judge that they wiU not 
be agreeable to those in whose company they 
are. Every act of simulation and hypocrisy 
proves the acquaintance which man has with 
himself. Modesty and humility of dispo- 
sition may sometimes induce persons to un- 
derrate their own merits ; but this is, I fre- 
quently think, too often an attempt to de- 
ceive. 'V\'hen I hear persons at all times, and 
ou all occasions, express humble opinions of 
themselves, it appears as if they were merely 
hunting for compliments : sometimes to be 
sure I fully acquiesce in the judgments and 
nentiments they express. Modesty and tine 
humility never prompt persons to any thing 
of this nature ; they never seek fof notice, 
hut retirement is their delight, they never I 

^^deavour to obtrude themselves into the 
full glare of public observation, but are fond 
of the evening twilight, if I may so express 
myself, where unseen they may see. Upon the 
whole, as far as my -experience and observa- 
tion go, I think that in reality few persons 
who have understanding have many faults of 
which they are not mentally conscious, how- 
ever they may be disposed to deny or con- 
ceal it. ' NEON. 



Socrates was born 4u8 years oelorc Christ. 
Plutarch says, that while he- was yet in 
his infancy, nis lather Sophronicus was 
admonished by an oracle, to take great care 
not to compel or dissuade him from any 
thing : but to permit him to follow entirely 
the bent of his own inclinations. Because 
he had in him a Guide and Condtfctor that was 
worth more than ten thousand masters. He 
was brought up at his father's trade in carv- 
ing statues ; and carved the Graces and a 
Mercury of a castle at Athens, in the days 
of Phidias. In his 3/th year he was at the 
siege of Potidea in Thrace, where he won 
the prize of valour ; and then gave it to 
Alcibiades, whose life he saved. In this 
expedition, says Favcrinus, he stood erect 
from one sun to the next. Plato says, that it 
was a customary thing tor him to stop in the 
middle of the streets to meditate. In this 
instance, not readily finding what he sought, 
he desponded not, but persisted in the same 
contemplation twenty-four hours, to the as- 
tonishment of the soldiers. His companions 
said they never knew a man so .laborious or 
hardy. In the winter he wore his usual clothes, 
when others could scarcely endure the cold in 
dothtj^ltiied with furs ; and he walked bare- 
foot on the ice. The Athenians were com- 
pelled id marry two wives, to repair tha^loss 
of the citizens by the wars and plague at 
Potidea and Athens ; and Socrates, who 
only, says Diogenes, escaped tlie plague, had 
two, that greatly tried his patitnce by their 
viciousness. The indignities offered him by 
Xantippe were great. One day, after vent- 
ing her anger and spite in ill language and 
abuse, she threw a pot of nasty water on his 
head. At this he onl}^ laughed, and said, "Rain 
was to be expected after so much thunder." 
Alcibiades told him he erred by being so be- 
nevolent to such a shrew. He smiled and said, 
*' Art thou angiy widi thy geese when they 
gabble f * Alcibiades sent him a cake, which 
she threw on the groimd, and stamped it to 
pieces. Socrates, who looked on, laughed 
at her. Well, well, said he, widi his accus- 
tomed railler)^', thou shalt eat none of it. 
He said he had taken this vixen, that he 
might be certain he could live with the rest 
of the world, after having learned to endure 
her humours. In the battle of Delium in 
Bseocia, he saved Xenophon's life, who had 
fallen from his horse, carrying him some 
furlongs on his shoulders. 

" He was the first," says Plutarch, " who 
shewed that the life of man may at all times 
and seasons, even in afflictions, and in all 
sorts of circumstances, be universally em- 

ployed in the practice of philosophy." He 
at firstjdiscoursed in shops and public places, 
aud with great fervour and action; where 
some would pull him by the cloak, and odiers 
laugh at him. One insolent fellow gave him 
a severe kick ; and his friends advised him 
to resent the indignity. " If a horse had 
kicked me," said he, " would you have me 
sue bim r" Plutarch says that the person 
who kicked him was so smitten with regret 
for his rash action, that he hanged himself. 
Socrates philosophized when he was eating, 
drinking, or diverting himself: when in the 
camp or at assemblies of the people. He never 
bad b^ishes prepared for his auditors — ^he 
never fl(ot up into a pulpit, says Plutarch — 
he never appointed any certain hour to con- 
fer with his friends. His sobriet}' was de- 
rided — his discourses were ridiculed — his 
dress and going barefoot was contemned. 
The comic poets abused him, as may be yet 
seen in the play of Aristophanes, called the 
Clouds, where he is slandered with abomina- 
ble impieties. Socrates being at the play, 
and some^desiring to know who this Socrates 
was, he rose from his seat with his usual 
calmness, and said to those who were near 
him, that he fancied himself at a great feast, 
where the company pleasandy diverted them- 
selves with rallying him. The voice of the 
people did not now favour the poets, who 
were very foul-mouthed ; for this was twen- 
t>'-tM^o or twent\^-three years before he was 
dragged before his judges. He said if the 
comic poets related truths, they teach us to 
mend our faults ; if lies, we have no reason 
to be offended : therefore he received their 
invectives amicably. At one time he receiv- 
ed a box on the car \ but resented it only by 
a raillery, obser\ ing it was a pity a man does 
not know when to wear a head -piece. He 
kept much at home, desiring men to be more 
curious to travel in themselves, than over 
seas* ^nd lands. His chief care regarded 
young men, that he might sow the seed of vir- 
tue in a field not ruined by the seeds of vice; 
and he endeavoured with assiduity to acquire 
tharnffections, that he might retrieve diem 
biiqpf the hands of the voluptuous, and from 
uis^tui*al amours. He laboured against the 
sopj^try of the professional philosophers, 
wha afdasaed fortunes by teaching their 
scholarl vain sciences and subtikies. He 
reproached them with teaching for gain, 
, which he proved was an employment unwor- 
fli^^an Jtf)nourable man. They calumniate 
him as their enemy : yet many men followed 
hind ; and Plato praised God for three things: 
the gift of a rational soul, a birth among 
Gr^s and not among barbarians, and that 
this birth was in the da}'s of Soa*atcs. Plato, 
pressed by poveiiy, was met by Socrates 
while Plato was preparing to be a soldier, 
and was per/suaded to quit that design, and 
apply himself to philosophy. Socrates men- 
tioned, that die night before, he dreamt 
that a swan flew out of liis bosom, and filled 
the whole earth with its charming voice, and 
he applied this to Plato, his divine disciple. 
He stopped Xenophon, by stretching out his 
cane, and asking him where provisions were 
to be sold, and then where he might learn 
virtue. The last puzzling him, Socratejj 

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said, *^ Follow mo, and tlioa snalt learn it ;" 
which he did. Crito loved Socrates, and 
was careful to relieve his poverty. Xeno- 
phon states that the whole estate of tlie latter 
amounted not to fifty crowns. Yet he esteem- 
ed himself rich, saying, " Neitlier riches nor 
poverty ought to be looked for in the diest, 
but in the soul.'* Aristippus, who was the 
first disciple of Socrates, accused o£ teaching 
philosopl^ for money, once sent 200 crowns 
of his gains to his master : who asking him, 
whence came his riches I was answered, from 
the same source whence comes thy povert}'. 
So Socrates returned them. To him, says 
Cicero, we owe all the virtuous* great men 
of Athens. And Socrates predicted this, 
saying he came only to make others bring 
forth, and excite in them the seeds of the 
true sciences. He refused the great presents 
and promises of Archelaus, king of Mace- 
do«, who courted his company. Some other 
princes tempted him likewise, but to no pur- 
pose. Alcibiades, who oft tried him with 
gifts, said he was invuhierable to money. 

No. VII. 

The progress of fermentation if the wea- 
ther be cool and settled, will generally be- 
come entirely suspended in a few days; and 
the liquor will tlien separate from its impuri- 
ties. Whatever, is specifically lighter will 
rise to its surface, whilst the heavier lees will 
descend to the bottom ; leaving the interme- 
diate liquor perfectly clear and bright. 

This must instantly be drawn off, and not 
suffered, on any account, to mingle with its 
lees ; for these possess much the same pro- 
perties as yeast, and would inevitably bring 
on a second fermentation. The best crite- 
rion to judge of the proper moment to rack 
off will be the brightness of the liquor ; but 
this is always attended with external- marks 
which serve as guides to the cider maker. 
The discharge of fixed air which always at- 
tends the progress of fermentation has en- 
tirely ceased ; and a thick crust, %rft|ed of 
fragments of the reduced pulp, fiiseil hy 
tlie buoyant air it contains, is collected on 
the surface. The clear liquor beiny drawn 
off into another cask, the lees are put into 
small bags, similar to those used tor jellies, 
through which whatever liquor-the lees con- 
tain gradually filtrates, and becomes perfectly 
bright. It is then retui-ned to^luit in the 
cask, in which it has the effect in some mea- 
sure of preventing a second fermentation. 
It appears to have undergone a considerable 
change in the process of filtration. Itfe colour 
is remarkably deep, its tistc harsh and flat, 
and it has a strong tendency to become ace- 
tous J pi'obably by having given out fixed and 
absorbed vital air. Should it become acetous, 
which it will frequently do in forty-eight 
hours, it must not, on any account, be put 
into the cask. If the cider after being racked 
off remain bright and quiet, nothing more is 
to be done to it till tli:: succeeding spring ; 
but if a scum collect on the sarfiice, it must 
be immediately racked off into another cask, 
as this would produce bad effi^ts if suffered 
to sink. If a disposition ti ft^rment with 

violence again appear, it will be necessary 
to rack off from one cask to another as often 
as a hissing noise is heard. The strength of 
cider is much reduced by being frequendy 
racked off ; in part because a larger portion 
of sugar remains unchanged, which adds to 
the sweetness at the expense of the other 
quality ; and in some measure probably, be- 
cause a portion of ardent spirit escapes whilst 
the liquor presents so large a surface to the 
air. Tlie juice of those fruits which produce 
ver}' strong ciders, often remains muddy 
during the whole winter; and much attention 
must frequently be paid to prevent an excess 
of fermentation. The smoke of sulphur is 
sometimes used to render it bright, but is 
unnecessary when the liquor has been made 
from good fruits, properly ripened. 


No. III. 

(concluded pnoiii our last.) 
They who seek, feel and obey the light, 
know it ; and these see and know God and 
his Christ. They believe what their spirits 
feel and see, when warmly or clearly united 
to the pure spirit of God, as to things they 
have not yet received, but which ^^ Christ 
within their hope of glory^* induces them to 
expect. And wx* believe that what is thus 
felt to be promised, will assuredly be ful- 

Faith, therefore, is internal in its origin, 
nature, object. Its origin is from God, its 
nature is Godly, and its object is God. Its 
origin is from the Spirit ; its nature is spiritu- 
al, and its object is a spiritual inharitancc 
and kingdom. No historical faith of the 
scriptures of truth penned by Moses, die 
prophets and apostles, and trmsmitted to 
us, is saving without this in temX knowledge 
and faith. The external testijgaonies are 
highly estimable ; but the internal evidence 
is the substance of the fonner. The Lord 
is our Saviour ; Christ is our Saviour ; by 
faith we are saved. Christ is the gift of God, 
faith is the gift of God. Yet there is but ojle 
Lord and Saviour. Faith then is of Christ, 
as the Son is of the Father. If it is of Christ, 
is a part of him, and a spiritual inheri- 
tance. Indeed, " Faith is the 'substance of 
things unseen ; the evidence of things hoped 
for." It is substance and evidence, power 
anct piomise. By it Daniel was unhurt by 
lions ; -for God whose power is almighty so 
promised, and Daniel believed. Christ could 
do no miracles for hearts who had not this 
belief in his inward promise. 

From what has been said, may we not 
juddy conclude, that '* Faith is a btlief, trust, 
hope and confidence in the promises of Christ 
or God in our spirits ?*' A faith which work- 
eth by love, and purifies, or baptizes the 
heart, and renders us holy. There are Gods 
and Lords many, and many faiths, confes- 
sions of faith, and creeds, and many bap- 
tisms ; yet let us all recollect, and feel in our 
spirits, that there is, and can be, but o)ie 
Lord^ one Faith ^ and one Baptism ; and that 
as God is a spirit, so the two latter arc 
spiritual ; and that Socrates and Cornelius 
may be saved, when hypocritical Jews and 

christians of the outward court be lost. St ek^ 
my dear reader, if thou desirest truth seek 
God within thre, for He is truth ; the true 
judge of faith and controversy, and the Only 
judge, and a kind Saviour. Bi'^'<v<i what 
He says, and be baptized with His spirit, 
which washes awaf all sin ; and thou shalt 
be justified and saved for ever. 

" Watchman^ -what of the Night f^^ 

The reply to the prophet, that " The raom« 
ing Cometh, and also the night:" though 
apparendy simple, is fraught with instruc- 
tion to the attentive enquirer : but the Lay 
Preacher thinks it merits a more particular 
description ; and professes he feels peculiarly 
disposed to arrange some ideas in favour of 
this season. I know that the majority are lite- 
rally blind to its merits ; they must be promi- 
nent indeed to be discerned by the closed eyes 
of the snorer, who thinks that night was made 
for nothing but sleep. But the student and the 
sage are willing to believe that it was formed 
for higher purposes ; and that it not only re- 
cruits exhausted spirits, but sometimes in- 
forms inquisitive, and amends wicked ones. 

Duty, as well as inclination, urges the Lay 

Preacher to sermonize, while others slumber. 

To read numerous volumes in the morning, 

and to observe various itharacters at noon, 

will leave but little time except the night, to 

digest the one or speculate upon the other^ 

The night, therefore, is often dedicated to 

composition; and while the light of the paly 

planets discovers at his desk the Preacher, 

more waq than they ; he may be heard repea- 

tiQg,emphaticaIly urith Dr. Young, 

" Darkness has much divinity for me.** 

H is then alone, he is then at peace. No 

comfjanions near, but the silent yolumos on 

his shelf J ndtioisc abroad, but the click of the 

village dock, or the bark of the village dog. 

'tlie deacon has dien smoked his sixth, and 

last pipe, and asks not a question more con- 

ceriung Joscphus, or the church. Stillness 

lids study, and the sermon proceeds. Such 

being the obligations to night, it would be 

ungrateful not to acknowledge them. As my 

watchful eves can discern its dim beauties, 

my warm heart shall feel, and my prompt 

pen shall describe, the uses and the pleasures 

of the nocturnal hour. 

Watchman, what of the night? I can with 
propriety imagine this question^addre ssecl to 
myself; I am a professed lucubrator, and 
who so wen qualified to delineate the sable 
hours, as 

" A meagre, muse rid mope, adost and thin" 
However injuriously nigi«t is ti eaied by the 
sleepy modems, the vi ilance of the anc^ .ts 
could not overlook its benefits and jo) • . In 
as early a record the book o: Ciencsis, I 
find that Isaac, thouj^h he devoted his assid- 
uous days to action, reserved speculation ull 
night. " He went o'lt to meditate in the field 
at the eventide.*' H - chose that pensive so- 
lemn hour, to reflce upon the virtues of a be- 
loved, and departed mother. The tumuk and 
glare of day suited not with the sorrow oi his 
soul. He had lost his most amiable, most 

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nuine friend, and hia imostentatious grief 
vas eager tor privacy and shade. Sincere 
sorrow rarely suffers its tears to be seen. It 
was natural for Isaac to select a season to 
wt ep in, which should resemble " the colour 
of his fate." The darkness, the solannity, die 
stillness of eve, were favourable to his melan- 
choly purpose. He forsook therefore the bus- 
tling tents of his father, the pleasant " south 
country, and **weD oi Lahairoi,'* he wetit 
out and pensively meditated at even tide. 
The Grecian and Roman philosophers 
firmly believed, that ** the dead of midnight 
is the noon of diought." One of them is 
beautifolly described by the poet, as soli- 
citing knowledge from the skies, in private 
and nightly audience, and that neither his 
theme, nor his^nightly walks were forsaken 
till the sun appeared and dimmed his "no- 
bler intellectual beam." We undoubtedly 
owe to the studious nights of the antients, 
most of their elal)orate and immortal pro- 
ductions. Among them it was necessaiy 
that every man of letters should trim the 
midni^t lamp. The day might be given to 
the tbrum or the circus, but the night was 
the season for the statesman to project his 
schemes, and for the poet to pour his verse. 
Night has likewise 'with great reason been 
considered in every age as the astronon^ers 
day. Young observes, with energy', that 
**an undevout astronomer is mad.'' The 
priviledge of contemplating those brilliant 
and numerous myriads of planets which be- 
deck our skies is peculiar to night, and it 
is our duty, both as lovers of moral and 
natural beauty, to bless that season, when 
we are indtilged with such a gorgeous display 
of glittering and useful light. ^|t must be 
confessed that the seclusion, calmness and 
tranquillity of midnight, is most friendly to 
serious, and even airy contemplations. Mil- 
ton, in one of his poems, says fefvently 

.Let thy lamp, at midnight hour, 
Be seen in some high lonely tower 
^ ■ ■ ■ ■ To utifoM 

What worlds, or what vast regions hold 
Th* immor^d mind, that hath forsook 
Her mansion in this fleshly nook. 

The rigid Dr. Johnson was so convinced 
that late hours were auxiliary to, iS^^ feast of 
reason and the flow of soul^ that he used to 
declare ** no man, but a scoundrel went to 
bed before midnight.'* This expression was 
perhaps too strong, and he would not have 
used it, had he lived in a farm house : but 
his love of the conversatipn of men of letters, 
and his experience that fancy is most wake- 
ful when dullness sleeps, tempted him to cm- 
ploy a phrase which must startle every labour 
-er^ who, by mere lassitude of limb, is com- 
pelled early to retire. 

Night being friendly to playful, no less 
than to metaphysical, and abi^tract thought, 
not only die author and statesman watch, 
but likewise the sons of sociability and glee. 
Tliost;,. Who " eat the bread of carefulness" 
go soon to bed to digest their jgaeal, and 
leave the darkened hours to be enjoyed 
by men of genius, or wasted by men ot plea- 
Burcrf St* Paul avers, that ** tliey that be drun- 
ken are dnmken in the night,** and I know 
that its broad^mantlc is frequently employed 
to cover excess from the world. Still the arri- 

val of night is greeted by many, who wish nei- 
ther to sleep, nor drink it away. Converta- 
tion often holds a levee at midnight, and wit, 
aild sentiment, and song; like tlic fairies, as- 
semble and sport before the cock cirow. 

I think it treason to diis sable power, who 
holds divided empire with day; constantly 
to shut our eyes at her approacli. To long 
sleep I am decidedly a foe : as it is expressed 
by a quaint writer, we shall all have enougn 
of that m the grave. Those who cannot break 
the silence of night by vocal throat, or elo- 
quent tongue ; may be permitted to disturb it 
by a snore. But he, among my readers, 
who possesses the power of fancy and strong 
thought, should be vigilant as a watchman. 
Let him sleep abi|ndandy for health, but spa- 
ringly for sloth. It is better sometimes to 
consult a page of philosc^hy than the pillow. 


The fotloxvmg is a sketch of the characters 
of the two rival chiefs of Hayti^ Chris- 
tophe and Petton^ by a person who had 
resided sometime in the island. 

Christophe is a perfect black, bom in the 
island of St. Cristophers — ^a cruel and deter- 
mined chai'acter, but withal very cunning 
and polite. I am told he pretends often not 
to understand English, but in fact under- 
stands and speaks it very well, and by this 
finesse frequendy gets information which is 
very useful to him. 

Petion is a much milder character than 
Christophe — a mulatto, and the man who 
caused the deadi of Des6>dines, whose cru- 
lilties and attrocities in St. Domingo are well 
known everv- where. By the most correct 
information I can obtain, Christophe's party 
is Ae mo9t respectable and powerfid; Pe- 
tion*« the most just. 

The government of this island is vw- 
despotic; Christophc's word is a law ■ 
Frequently when a criminal is brought hefon* 
him, after hearing the complaint, he orders 
him to be bayonetted on the spot, without 
any trial or respite. He is the most polit( 
and af&ble man imaginable ; lives in vqtj 
great style ; has a psdace in every quarter 
of his ten;itories, and is immensely rich, 
and very avaricious. He is a man about 
forty ; tall, well made and a fine handsome 

No. I. 


The Lord was in my thoaghts. at in&ot jrears, 
As the Creator <of the heavens and earth. 
But who, my heart replied, created God ? 
Fear followed* and reproved this thought presanop- 

I trembled as a culprit and Uasphemer, 
Before that God« . who knew my very diooghts. 
I surted from the bed on which I lay, 
And fled t not daring thus in solitude to thbL 

I fled from God, and I jfergot him too^ 
Unless of him reminded by my mother. 
I was well pleased with the delights of boyi^ 
And oft was froward, ru^Cy undutifuL 

Ob, how I love die name of my dear mother ! 
Who taught my infancy the fear of God, 
Which made me dread to be a r.augluy lx)y. 
She meekly bore her miserable life. 
For her dear children's sakes : for them she toiled 
All day and ev'ry day — and in the night, 
When other mortals slept ; and often sighed. 
Deep from th' interior of her woe- worn heart; 
Which would have broke but for religii»fi*s aid. 
She oft reproved, in meek and tender lovCf 
Her misbehaving children ; so that I 
Have oft determined to be dutiful, 
And not be cast into the burning lake. 
As oft. such resoludons were forgotten* 
What will become of disobedient children ? 
My mother then did say — and children too, 
Who sin altho* rebuked ? For •' He th?t's oft: 
Reproved, and hardeneth his neck, 'tis said. 
Shall suddenly be smitun and destroyed, 
And without remedy." — This was a new, 
A solemn warning, that produced a fear 
Reclined at eve upon the couch of sleep, 
1 thought about the Lord Then pass the words 
Above, across my mind.— Jehovah frown 'd ; — 
And 'Suddenly appeared, with scythe in hand 
'I he form of death, commissioned from on high 
To execute the threatening that's denounced 
Against the oft rebuked and hardened sinner. 
The ftital stroke was on my bowels aimed. 
And its keen point I felt. Oh ! dreadful hoi lor \ 
Such dreadful horror and despair is felt 
By conscious culprits doomed to sudden deaths 
Expecting naught but everlasting torment ; — 
During a night, their hair hai turned to white. 
Such dreadful honor and despair was felt 
By king Bel-shazzar, who profaned the vesseh 
Of th' holy temple in his wicked feast, 
When on the uall an awful hand wrote down 
His, and his kingdom's fate, fuICrd that night i 
His knees together smote : but my heart, too, 
IVemendous \ — audible to huntan ears. 
Help from no morul now could I expect ! 
Of Christ I'd heard— of faith and miracles- 
Id covenanting prayer. I kneeled down 
By the bed side with strong desn-e, and prayed^ 
That God would grant me longer time to live 
And I'd do better. To Jerusalem 
My mustardgrain of faith or hope was turned* 
And in compassion God revoked his order. 
Healed Doe, and added years unto my life. 
But 01 1: how shamefully I kept my vow ! 
When Pd backslid— when 1 desired to love, 
Jesus the martyr, who for me did die. 
Again the view of death approached I cried^ 
Forgive roc Lord ; — I pardon a!l mankind 
Who've, injured me ; and may all pardon nae. 
- Then had 1 died ,1 should hare died in hopq^ 
Cdi)6ding in the promise ; that if we 
Forgive, we shall be pardoned by the Lord. 
The sting of death is sin ; this moruls frights : 
This cowardizcs ; — this creates a hell. 

Cleansed from our sins, forgiven by uur I.or4r 
Whose baptism is with fire, none need to fear* 
All such are full of courage, even to death ; 
Eoduring shame, and every ill of life, 
With hopes and confidence above the worlds 
Which they despise and trample under foot* 

I (aw a woman on her dying bed. 
With pleunsv aifected, who refused 
The aid of medicines as she believed 
Her end was come, and medicines would &il ; 
She prayed her God to uke her to his joys, 
And prayed her friends to pray for her decease. 

A mail without secrecy/ ts (tn open I'ttt rfor 
every enfi tp reofk 

Digitized by 





BuiTm^ton^ October 15th, 1810. 

fCT' The Editor having observed that most 
vr all of the few nanus^ which have been for- 
warded to him as disapproving of the additi- 
onal sheet to the Rural Visiter^ have supposed 
that the supplement containing only the Ad- 
vertisancntSy was that for which we designed 
charging sixty-two and a half cents /?^r ann. 
in addition to the two dollats ; we noxv for- 
ward the Paper to all, as we design to pub- 
lish it every fortnight — and the week inter- 
ve.ung^ as heretofore. Our Patrons maij now 
s.'c xc/uit is intended; we are sensible^ that to 
t'le generality of them this variation in the 
price will be no object : the others^ we would 
recommend to examine the matter and ar- 
rangement, and judge whether their volume 
raill not suffer mateuialiy by the omission of 
the extra sheet, as they will thereby not only 
lose fnany things which may cause a want of 
confwction in the rest highly embarrassing ; 
but perhaps get answers to pieces they have 
never seen. TFe have simply added the actual 
cost of materials and wages ; and entertain 
such an opinion of our countrymen^ as the en- 
couragers of literary improvement^ that we 
are induced to believe not a solitary in- 
stance xvill occur of any difficulty between the 
Editor and his Patrons ; for xvhose past fa- 
vors he does not for mere compliment add^ 
he is truly gratefuL 

He does not wish to overrate the viexvs and 
fiierils of his Paper by saying that ykuie. 
* is his objects- but yet he cannot conceal^ that hi^ 
Pride is som.exvhat interested in its character* 
His aim is to present to the citizens of New- 
Jersey and its adjacent toxvnSy a choice selec- 
tion of literary beauties. Jf diamonds be too rare 
and expensive^ he hopes to present them with 
pearls* Indeed^ with pleasure he says ity he 
has, so many to present^ that hitherto his 
paper has not had extent ion snfficienP^^ shew 
them: and his generous correspondents have 
doubtless been surprised that some of theirs 
have been omitted^ whilst some others^ whose 
intrinsic merit and external polish ^g bn no 
more to be admired, have had their bedSUks ac- 
knowledged by display : to give free scope to all 
novitiates in the Fane of Literature is his eager 
wish ; and it cannot out be flattering to Neru- 
Jersey^ the Sxvisserland of America^ that 
there are so ?nany candidates for the laurel 

f he following is an extract of a Litter I a few 
days since receivcdfrom an intimate friend 
-^its insertion in your very useful paper 
will I hope be acceptable to your readers, 
and oblige 


Have you ever read ^* The twa Brigs of 
Ayr," by Bums? it is an admirable- satire 
•n the times. In the introduction to the 
conversation between the two bridges, the re 
is a very fine instance of the excelhnce of the 
Scottish language in description. A com- 
mon poet could not interest one by stating 
iJuit he went to walk oat at two in the morn- 
i :g : but hear Buni5~ 

** The dro^ sy dungeon clock had nunrtber'd t^^*o, 
And Wallace* tower had sworn the fact was true.'* 

The town-house of Ayr is a gloomy Go- 
thic building, that was erected as a place of 
refuge, and not unfrequently used as a prison 
at the time of the Roman invasion. The cells 
under ground are impenetrable to the light of 
heaven, and the bell on its steeple has the 
most dismally hollow sound that can be ima- 
gined, requiring nearly a minute to each 
knell of the lapse of time. Wallace' Tower, 
was a town resdence of the celebrated Scot- 
tish chieftain of that name, and has a bell of 
a much livelier tone upon it. 

You have often heard me speak in raptures 
of Burns' description of a Newfoundland 

" His shape, his size, his hair, and lugs, 
Show'd he was nane o* Scotland's dogs ; 
Bur whelped some place far abroad, 
Whare sailors gang to fish for cod. 

The poet shews great knowledge of human 
nature in these lines ; how insidting to our 
judgment it would have been, to have after- 
wards told us he meant Newfoundland! on 
the other hand, how flattering to our discri- 
mination it is, to discern his meaning on so 
slight a description : it is the want of atten- 
tion to this, that makes the generality of ser- 
mons so distressingly tedious ; a preacher 
cannot be too careful to avoid dwelling long 
on what is already sufficiently obvious. 

An author cannot surely employ his wit 
better, than to shew the folly of our coveting 
the riches or rank of our neighbour, forgetful 
of the encreased quantum of evil which is the 
inseparable commixture of the cup of liixur}% 
How Bums makes his dog Caesar describe 
the diseases of the mind, encr\'ated by idle- 
ness and dissipation — ^ 

«* Lord, man! were ye but whyles whare I am. 

The gentles ye wad ne'er envy 'em. 

These gentlemen, an* ladies warst, 

Wi cv'ndown want o' wark are curst. 

For when nae real ills perplex them, 

They mak« enow themselves to vex theoQ.*^ 

Bums is at all times peculiarly happy, 
when he compares or contrasts mankind with 
die beasts of the field : the two animals aboVe 
referred to, are described at parting to 

" Rejoice they were na moh but cfe^j^." 

When the poet speaks of the mouse, he 
stiles himself 

'* Its earth-bom companion and fellow mortal" 

and politely places the little bea^tie befoi-e 
him in planning its dwelling. 

" The best laid schemes o* mice and men, 
Gang aft a-gly. 

An* leave us nought but grief and pain 
For promis*d joy." 

Is there a man so lost to the noble senti- 
ment of indc pendence and liberty, that can 
read with indifference Burns* description of 
the water- fowl leaving a lake, where they 
were annoyed with the murderous hail of the 

«« On the lofty scther borne, 
Man, with all his powers you scorn; 
Sw^fth- seek, on clanging wings, 
Oiher lakes, and other springs ; 
And the foe you cannot brave. 
Scorn at least to be his slave ! 

But the Scottish poets excel in the descrip* 
tive and love-sick strain ; what can be more 
exquisite than the simile he uses in hisyessief 

" Thou art sweet as the smiles when fond lovers 

And soft as their parting tear**' 

In another place, he makes his hero thus 
lament his situation. 

" O why should fate sic pleasure have*-- 

Life*s dearest bands untwining } 
Or why sae sweet a flower as love. 
Depend on fortune's shining T* 
yet summoning sufficient courage, he de% 
clares his passion to her : on her reminding 
him of his poverty, in his own justificatioii 
he says, « 

" O wha can prudence think upoij. 

And sic a lassie by him ? 
O wha can prudence think upon, 

And sae in love as I am ?" 

But 1 should exceed my boimds, were I 
to attempt to point out all the beauties of 
Bums ;^and I am afrai'^ that you are already 
sick of these poetical i..^p8odies«— — So 

And believe me ever Yours. P. P. 

'< ■ '■■ ■ i ri 

For the rviai. visiter. 


If Grace has touched the witness in thy breast. 

And with its signet, Truti) dtrtne, imprest j 

Give Him the praise, who rules both earth and ski^ 

And through Ob^Uence letfitrt incense rise 

In deep humility, before ffU Throne 

Who claims the tribute to himself alone. 

He'll point thy path, secure thy mind from ill. 

And bid the storm and tempest, •• Peace^be stHl!^ 

He'll bid the mountains skip, the hilW obey ; 

As Lambs in native guise faKsfore thee play,' 

For as a tender Shepherd o*er his sheep. 

So he xht/aithful will in safety keep ; 

And thou^ there are that from the flock do rovjp. 

And slight the offers of redeeming love. 

The tw«e in heart shall still the call obey. 

Meekly submitting— ^ar tbepalin away. 


" Thewinipasseth over it, and it is'^onc^?' 
I saw a dewdrop, cool and dear, 

Dance on a myrtle spray. 
Fair cdoim decked the lucid tear, 
Like those -which gleam and disappear 

When showers and sunbeams play. ' 
Sol cast athwart a glance severe, 

And scorched the pearl away. 

High on a slender, polished stem^ 

A fragrant lily grew: 
On the pore petsds many a gem 

Of healthy morning dew. 
A blast of lingering winter canoi^ 

And sm^ped the stem in two. 

Faiircr than morning's early tear. 

Or lily's snowy bloom, 
Shines beauty in its vernal year: 
BHght, sparkling, facinating, clear. 

Gay, thoughtless of its doom I 
Death breathes a sudden poison seal) 

And sweeps it to the tomb ! 


A letter dated the 4th. inst. near Hacket»^ 
town, to a person in this city says, ••" I • ave 
lately learned from a person who has experi- 
enced the benefit for tnree years past, that a 
tea-spoon full of powdered brimstone, strew- 
ed round the root of Peach trees, win destroy 
the worms which are so destructive ; and 
cause the the tree to flourish.'' J. U. 

The experinaent is so cheap and simple^ it, 
desirves tri4* 

Digitized by 






In sympathising with the distressed, we 
perform a duty which is indeed its own re- 
ward. There is such a pleasure attending 
the tcjtt" tliat we drop for the woes of ano- 
ther, that we never regret having become 
acquainted with the circumstances of the un- 
fortunate. The sensibilities of the soul are 
awakened, and our tendcrest feelings called 
into action. Tliis qualifies us for an enjoy- 
mi^nt which the common occurences of life 
cannot aiford. The tale therefore, which I 
am about to relate, will l)e listened to with 

Know, gentle readers, that scarcely eigh- 
teen summers had roiled over the head of 
the sprightly Philario,when his heart became 

the willing captive not of the treasures 

Vhich the sons of genius, who now skcp in 
the dust, had left behind them, but of Melis- 
sa, who was possessed of all that could render 
lur form beautiful, and her features regular. 
Though she was no older than Philario, yet 
her active mind was acquainted with many 
of the principles of philosophy, and benevo- 
lence was the predominant characteristic of 
her amiable di? position. 
She had e'en 

" Than beauty, something dearer, should we look 
Or in the mind, or niind-illumined face. 
Truth, goodness, honrour, hatmony and love. 
The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven." 

Though the disposition of Philario was 
such as always to render his manners pleas- 
ing, and himself amiable j yet the acquisi- 
tion oi knowledge had not enlarged his un- 
derstanding : however he very well knew 
how to estimate worth, and bemg acquainted 
with Melissa, he could not but admire her. 
A '5 the farms of their respective parents were 
only separated by a little rivulet, they fre- 
quently were in each other's compan}^ — the 
friendship of Philario ripened into love, and 
that which had formerly been no more thanre- 
spect, became heart- felt affection, tie sought 
an opportunity for decUu'ing hLs attachment, 
but the prudence of Melissa made her decline 
seeing him in private. One evening as he 
was* sitting beside the brook that has been 
mentioned, listening to its murmurs, which 
he considered as echoes to his complaints, 
Melissa, in returning from one of the neigh- 
bpurs, came up to him before she was con- 
scious that he was near her. As the sun had 
but just set, the blushes of Melissa were 
very obvious ; and these threw into the 
countenance of Philario a confusion that ren- 
dered the meeting tnily interesting. As 
soon as he had recovered a little, and the 
usual ceremonies of meeting were over, he 
begged leave to accompany her ,to her 
dwelling, which was but a few paces from 
the place where they were. This she could 
not refuse — she led the way into a room, in 
M hich she expected to find her parents, but 
they had walked out. The op])ortunity there- 
fore, which Philario had so often sought with- 
out obtaining, was now in his possession, and 
he quickly resolved to make use of it. With 
all the ?<rdour which the warmth of his.afftc- 
tion could cause him to feel, and with all the 

tenderness that love could inspire, he inge- 
nuously laid open nis heart to her. She 
listened to him with apparent surprize, and 
her blushes, which rendered her a thousand 
times more lovely, made her cheeks as the 
horizon in the cool of the "day. Philario 
judged from her looks, that his professions 
were not disagreeable to her ; but she strong- 
ly endeavoured to avoid every gesture, that 
might have an encouraging effect. At length, 
after several obser\^ations that naturally fol- 
lowed his declaration, she told him she was 
not about to question the sincerity of the 
flame he had professed, nor had she a doubt 
of his (ji jcct's being truly honourable : but 
without offence, she begged leave to tell him, 
that their respective ages were such as ren- 
dered it highly improper, for either of them 
to encourage his attachment. " Endeavour, 
therefore," said she, ** I beseech thee, on 
thy part, to forget. Or at least to remember 
only with respect, her who is now addressing 
thee ; and on my part, when in future I shall 
call to my remembrance the present circum- 
stances, I will view them only as pledges of 
thy friendship**. Immediately after saying 
this, with a dignity and a firmness that filled 
his soul with rapture, she attempted to retire. 
The excessive warmth of his feelings had 
nimost overcome him. He wished to invite 
her not yet to withdraw, but could not — 
ho wished agam to repeat vows of eternal 
love, but could not say a word — he flew to- 
wards ii( 1- — he clasped her in his arms, and 
bedewed her cheeks with the tears of love : 
All this time he was endeavouring to speak, 
but could not, till at length he exclaimed, 
with an earnestr.fss that pierced the heart of 
Melissa, ^' I am yours for ever !" He pre- 
vailed upon her again to take her seat, when 
such conversation took place, as it is not my 
business to relate. However, before they 
s?p iratt d,. she ventured to mentioi^ to him as 
a friend, the propriety of spending more of 
his time in starching into the amazing vo- 
lume of human discoveries. He also pre- 
vailed Uj)on her to perfnit him to visit her. 
. Philario took the hint relative to study 
and devoted his leisure, almost exclusivelv 
to it. The consideration of her who recom- 
mended it to him, urged him on, and (what 
is very uncommon with persons in love) his 
inind expanded with a rapidity almost unpre- 
cedented. As they often met together, he 
found it in his power frequently to surprize 
the discerning Melisga, with the pertinence 
of his remarks, and the depth of his argu- 
ments. iN'^iUiy weeks had not passed after 
their first private intenaew, before the blush- 
es of Melissa acknowledged her attachmeot. 
As time passed on, their attachment 
mutually increased, and they always felt a 
pleasure in each other's company, which 
they knew not in absence. Before Philario 
had attained hisnineteenth year, it wasagreed 
that early in his twent)' -second, they should 
accompany each other to the bowers of 
Hymen, and bind themselves together, by 
the indissoluble bonds of matrimony. Filled 
with the fire of youth, and expecting only 
good, they calculated not upon the many 
circumstances that might occur, to prevent 
their meditated alliance. They knew indeed, | 

diat neither of their respective parents would 
object to the connection, for it was certain 
that they rather looked fonvard to it with 
pleasing anticipation. But according to the 
constitution of the universe.,Jtjow fallacious 
arc the promises of fijttrf 6 enjoyment f^ wo 
years had now elapsed since Melissa and 
Philario. had mutually viewed each other as 
their earthly treasure : and two others, had 
connubial felicity been for them to enjoy, 
would have endeared them still more. But 
this felicity, this endearment, they were not 
to experience. 'Tis true, that death has 
not snatched Melissa from the embraces of 
her lover ; but an eviller star, if possible, has 
presided over their fortunes. She fell sick of 
a fever, of which it was for.some time expect- 
ed she would not recover. But at length she 
was considered to be recovering, and Philai io 
naturally valued her much more, in consider- 
ation of the great danger from which, he 
supposed, she had entirely escaped. But in 
the early part of her convalescence, it was 
found that she would no more be what h& 
had loved. The nerve, which conveyed 
ideas to her soul was broken, and the tender 
chord of her affections could no more be 
touched. This was v/orse than death itself* 
From those lips, to whose movings Philario 
had so often listened with rapture, were now 
only to be heard unintelligible murmu rings 
— those eyes, that had so often dartc d ani- 
mation into the dejected countenance of their 
admirer, were now only seen to • roll with 
undistinguishing wildness — and those hands 
which he had so often in the warmth of his 
affection, pressed with a vehemence almost 
difficult to bear, were now seen employed 
from moniing till night, in the same dull 

The consideration of these things is al- 
most too much for tiie feeling heart of Phi- 
lario to bear ; but hr-ppily, having fortitude 
Uiough not to give himself up to alxsolute 
despondency, he places his reliance in this 
extremity of distress, upon Him, v/ho only 
can be confided in — and hoping that the 
bitterness of the cup will in time be removed, 
he resigns himself to the will of Heaven. 


To the Editor of the Rural Visiter. 

In a late autumnal ramble in the pensiVe 
regions of fancy, I saw, in a cave of a rock 
overhung with cypress, a man in the decline 
of life, leaning upon a str.ff: his eye rested 
unmoved upon a distant object, which yet he 
seemed not to contcin])late ; for though his 
countenance was composed, it was evidently 
impressed with some traces of secret regret, 
which shewed that the vision of his mind, was 
turned upon objects diffei-ent from those^ 
which the beautiiul scenery around presented 
to his view. I accosted him, and was politely 
invited to take a seat upon a fragment of 
rock. Upon exipnining his cave^ I found 
thstt it had been from time to time enlarged 
from the solid rock, and decorated in various 
parts with rude emblematical sculpture : but 
I was disappointed at finding that all this was 
the work of a former tenant — "■ Gi\'e me not 
credit," said he, " for a species of industrj'. 

Digitized by 




. ..a I have had no tiini : f found ihis 

• '-.uli as }ou sec it, and shall leave it 

* .'S I found it — I ara but a sojourner here, 
. k i\ ive every where been ; and my earthly 

: . -urn IS nearly at an end.*' Finding the 

f' i man grov/ more and more conversible, I 
' c\v from him by degrees a histor}- of his 
;;.o, which though not frauc;ht with incident, 
V. as yet inten^sting : it differed not much in 
tb^ earlvpart from the ordinar\* routine of a 
life devoted to the pursuit of wealth, except 
that, being of a contemplative cast, he had 
T)"!i?:cd but little v.ith the world, and had 
drawn m\ich of llic solace of his leisure hours 
from hooks, and frv)ni occasionally attempting 
tf) ;;ive a visible form to his own reflections 
and fancies, I>:i:ig disappointed in an early 
att.ichr.ient, h' never married, and was 
3io\v the sole surviver of a once' flourishing^; 

Tiie Icngthcnin,-]; shadows upon the fading 
landscape now warnc d mc of the approach of 
ni-fii^-, and I:\rose to depart : the old man, r i'/iiciting mc in vain to partake of his 
hoc;.,ituiity for the nia^lit, presented me with 
n Roil — ^' Young man,'' said he, " you arc but 
u>st emerging from the fostering care of pa- 
rents and teachers. Prospective life paitakes 
r{ flu* hues of yo".r own imagination : I shall 
net autmpt to dim its histn- l^y t-.e sombre 
•pencil of paini'iil eivperience — long may it be, 
« re its tints ?haU spontaneously fade ; yet be 
ro. disappointed, if long ere y u att.iin to my 
; ;; , you have cause to remember di .days 
oi ^rouble ; for they ^hall be mam . — Accept 
t' is icll: though no Ion p;er valuable tome, 
to you the perusal of it may at least afford 
''-inc iiours of inpr-ent relaxation from the 
j.irry of lif , the din of politics, and the 
Toise of folly." 

Thoufi^h upon perusing the roll, I find 
r .uch of its contents to he different from what 
anight he c::pcctcd from the peculiar circum- 
. ^ liccs of its author ; yet, rcx:ol!ecling that 
rie grcr.ter part appeared to be the pro- 
'. ^"tion of his youth, there seems no reason 
f r surpns?. Thinking they migiu ])rove not 
^'.acceptable to some amor.g your num<Tous 
\-adcr8, I have concluded to forward a selec- 
!:on for the Rural Visiter. Should you not 
t'link it expedient to permit thf^ni to illumi- 
T ttc your paper, you will at least suiTcr the 
Rianuscript to v/arm vour heardi. 


No. IL 

London, June 25th. 
I never knew, until the present, what ^ 
T-citTr.t im press' 's on one who presumes to 
; ^ue li'in ovvu opinions on arsother countr}\ I 
f" 'm to r.upport the responsihilit)' of the na- 
;. n ; and tren! le while judging those ifk 

• r-'t, v.'hos.' ; rand prerogative it is to be 
' 'r;ed in open court. That is a digniiied 

* r\ which assumes over a whole nation, 
1. • oue;ht not to he filled except by philoso- 
; '-^ : yet most men finished their 

X# ^ / - ! ; before t'ley set out. 

The English, like Themistocles, take to 
th;fmst:lvcs' the first place, because most fo- 
reigners allow them the second; and they 
imagine themselves treated with ingratitude, 
unless evel-y stranger throws in his mite of 
panegyric. They are hardly satisfied, if you 
invert the defiance of the poet, and praise 
where you can, and censure where you must. 

It has been their good fortune to be ac- 
cused only of those traits of character of 
which they boast : charge the Eng^h with 
haughtiness, and they will tdl you the Ro- 
mans in their best days were the haughtiest 
people oh earth'. Accuse them of hardness 
and oppression ; they will tell you^' these 
were ever the misfortune of conquerors. Tax 
them with an overbearing demeanor, and 
they will seriously tell you, this is a constitu- 
tional foible, owing to the consciousness of 
personal independence. Call them proud, 
and tiicy will tell you it is the part of slaves 
to be humble : freemen are always proud. 

It is our misfortune to have been visited 
by those, who, far from being philosophers, 
estimated the United States agreeably to 
the views of Europeans : 4ience they have 
thought us two centuries behind the polish of 
Europe ; at the same time, a William Penn 
or a Rousseau wotUd pronounce us more than 
four centu! ies nearer the great object of the 
social compact. It is not long, smce a Chi- 
nese great man, if you will allow the Chinese 
to have had a great man since the days of 
Confucius, arrived at Boston with a consi- 
derable suite. Being asked his opinion of 
Boston, he very naturally replied, ** It was 
the vilest place he had ever seen, and utterly 
destitute of magnificence." At the same 
time, advertmg to the style of the citizens, 
^' Why," said he, " my father has three hun- 
dred servants.'* 

This man probably went home, and thank- 
ed God he was not bom a citizen of the Uni- 
ted States ; and was ten times more c(5nfirm- 
ed in his prejudices, than when he left China. 
For travelling is as likely to fix native^ as to 
destroy foreign prejudices. When such a 
man as 7vlontesquieu, after having written the 
Spirit of Laws ^ and appeared to sympathise 
so sine rely with freemen, declares, ** As 
Plato thanked heaven that he was bom in the 
same age with Socrates ; so he thanked God 
that he u as born a subject under that govcm- 
nu nt in which he had lived," he surely dis- 
covers a childish weakness. It may be par- 
doned in the Chinese, who has nothing but 
the soil, and those connexions which all peo- 
ple have, to attach him to his country : but 
Montesquieu goes near to prove, that a man 
may think and write like a freeman, and yet 
content himself in a state of slavery. For 
my part, my love for my covmtrj' is founded 
chiefly on its constitution of government. 
" Nee in fniperfivie sig^msque caritas nobis 
pat rice pendet^'* I should prefer the salubri- 
ous breezes and grateful soil of Spain to the 
inexorable north winds and iron bound soil of 
New England, were all other thinM equal. 
^lomecunque Libert as trahet^ defer or hos- 

I foresee, I shall have to encounter many 
diificultit s before I can catch John Bull : 
however^ I will send yau all the materials of 

his person that I can collect, and you iuust 
put them together as well as you can : if you 
sometimes make a small mistake^ it is no great 
matter, John does not always knbw himeelt 

To understand the English, one should be 
a plebeian in the morning, a gentleman in the 
afternoon, and a noblema» at night. Other* 
wise, the various grades of society are so 
fortified in peculiar habit, tn this cotmtry^ 
that you are in danger of mistaking honest 
John for a different miimaL 

A citizen of the United States arrives here 
under no favourable circumstances of birth^ 
or consequence : therefore, to gain all die 
advantages of travel, he must cither break 
down, or leap over, many of those barriers 
of society, which with many are esteemed 



THE butterfly's BIRTH DAT. 
By the Author ^" The ButtajiyU BaU/f 

The shades of night were scarcel) fled : 
The air was mild, die winds were still t 

And slow the slanting son beams spread 
O'er wood and lawn, o*er heath and bil| 

From fleecy clouds of pearly hue 

Had dropt a short hot baUnly showef^ 

That hung like gems of morning dew^ 
On every tree. And every flower. 

And from the blackbird's mellow tbrosK 
Was poured so loud and long a swdU 

As echoed with responsive note 
From mountain M^ mnd sbadowy d£J^ 

When bursting forth to l\fy and light. 
The offspring of enraptured May, 

The BuT'iBRFLY. on pinions bright^ 
Launched in full ^lendour on the dA» 

Unconscious of a mother's care, 
No infant wretchedness she kneiTi 

But as she felt the vernal air, f 

At once to full perfection grew. 

Her slender form, ethereal, light. 
Her velvet textured wings enfold. 

With all the rainbow's colours bright. 
And dropt with spots of burnished golf^ 

TrembKng with joy awhile she ttood» 
And felt the sun's enlivening ray ; 

Drank from the skies thr vital flood. 
And wondered at her plumage gay^ 

And balanced oft her liroklered wingt» 
Through fields of air prepared to aul| 

Then on her venturous journey springs^ 
And floats along the rising gue. 

Go, child of pleasure, range the fields^ 
Taste all the joys that spring can giv||^ 

Partake what bounteous summer y ield% 
And live, whilst yet 'tis thine to live^ 

Go sip the rose's fragrant ^v;. 

The lily's honied cup explcrc, 
Frotf flower to flower the search renei^ 

And rifle all the vo< uine's store; 

And let me trace thy vagrant flight. 
Thy moments too of short repose^ 

And mark thee then with fresh deligh^ 
Thy golden pinions ope and close. 

But hark! whilst thus I iTusi«tg stand)^. 

Pours on the gale an .t:r> no»e . . 
And breathing hrom a viewles: band* 

Soft silfery tones aronnA m^ Qot^A 

Digitized by 




•-They ocase--but still a voice I hear, 
A whispered voice of hope and jojr> 
*» Thr hoar of rest approaches near, 
^ ", Prepare thee, mortal!— thou must die! 

• Vet start not ^*-on thy closing eyes 

•* Another day shall still unfold; 
^ A sun of milder radiance rise, 

•* A happier age of joys untold* 

•• Shan the poor worm that shodcs thy sight, 

" The humblest form in nature's train, 
*• Thus rise in new bom lustre bright, 
' •* And yet the emblem teach in vain ? 

^'* Ah, where were once her golden eyes, 
, " Her glittering wings of purple pride ? 
** Concealed beneath a rude disguise, 
'* A shapeless mass to earth allied. 

'** Like thee the hapless reptile lived, 
'* Like thee he toiled, like thee he spun^ 

^ Like thine his closing hour arrived, 
** His labours ceased-^his web was done. 

^ And sbalt thoo, numbered with the dead, 
" No happier slate of being know I 

♦^And shall no future morrow shed 
** On thee a beam of brighter glov ? 

^ Is this the bouitd of power divine, 

** To animate an insect frame ? 
^ Or shall not Ue who moulded thine*. 

" Wake at hb will the vital flame ? 

•T .^Oo, mortal I in thy reptile state, 
" Enough to know to thee is given ; 

^ Go, and the joyful truth relate ; 
" FraU ihiW of earth! high heir of heaven!*' 



S!bn of summer, child of leisure; 

Buz no^ thus around my formi. 
Little gilded speck of pleasure. 

Tease me not, for 1 am wsrm» 

It would grieve me sore to wound the6| 
Pain my heart to do th& harm; 

Seep not buzxing then around me. 
Tease mc not, for I am warm. 

Go and play around the ceiling. 
Safe from every inwaid storm \. 

Go and trust an honest feeling. 
None will come to do thee barm. 

Little son of Summer, go^ 
Prithee do not tease me so. 



Daughter of the eariy year. 
Let thy maiden beauties blow; 

And the drooping landscape cheer. 
Peering thro* a veil of snow« 

. Though no gaudy tints are thine, 

Thoogh no pomp thy blossoms share, 
Young Sin%piicity shall twine 
Wrei^hes with thee to dec]^ her hain 

Whr the frosts or notbem wind 
Shall thy opening buds deform; 

Emblem of the peaceful mind. 
Smiling <mid the wintry storm. 

To the Edltar of the Rural Fisiter. 

If the annexed Stanxas please yon* they are at your 

In this vain busv world where the good and the gay, 

By alBiction or folly wing moments away i 

Where the false are respected, the vnrtuous bctray'd, 

Where vice lives m sunshine, and genius in shade! 

With a soul sickened sadness all clsafigcs 1 see, 

l^or the^yrorldi the base worid, hasjio pleasure for me! 

In cities, where wealth loads the colters of pride; 
Where talents and sorrow are ever allied l 
Where dullness is worshipped and wisdom despised; 
Where none but the empty and vicious are prized. 
All scenes with disgust ami abhorteiKe I see, 
.For the worid has no corner of comfort for me. 

The pale Asiatks, encircled with gold. 

The sons of meek virtue indignant behold; 

While the tythe-pampered churchman reviles at the 

And the poor sinking traveller faints at the door; 
While custom dares sanction oppressions 's decree— 
Oh, keep such hard bosoms, such mot\sters from me' 

While the flame of the patriot expires in his breast. 
With ribbons and tinsel, and frippery drest; 
While pride mocks the children of want and despair. 
Gives a sneer for each sign and a smile for each 

Tho* he triumph his day, a short day it must be— 
Heav*n keep such cold tyrants — O keep them from met 

While the lawyer still lives by the anguish of hearts. 
While he wnngs the wrong'd bosom, and thrives as 

it smarts ; 
While he grasps the last ruinea from Poverty's heir j 
W hile he revels in splendour which rose from despair; 
W hile the tricks of his office our scourges must be ; 
Oh ! keep the shrewd knave and his quibbles from me 

While the court breeds the sycophant, trained to en 

' snafe; 
While the prisons re-echoe the groans of despair; 
While the state deals out taxes, the army dismay ; 
While the nch are upheld and the poor doom'd to pay, 
Humanity saddens with pity to see 
The scale of injustice — and trembles like me ! 

While patriots are slandered and venal slaves riset 
When pow*r grows gigantic and lit>ert> dies; 
While a platform of virtue o'er energy vtigns, 
And the broad wing oi' treedcm is loaded w tih chains; 
While war spreads its thunder o*er land and o'er sea. 
Ah I who can but listen aiid murmur like me ? 

While the bosom which loves and confesses «t» flame. 
By the high titled temale is branded with shame; 
While a coronet hides what the humble despise. 
And the lowly must fall that the haughty may rise; 
Oh! who can the triumph of infamy see. 
Nor shrink from the reptiles — atiu shudder like me ? 

Ah, world, thou vile world, how 1 sicken to trace, 
The anguish th tt hi>uriy augments for thy race! 
How I turn from the worst and honour the best; 
ihe ^dightened adore and the venal dereM, 
And U, with what joy to the grave could I tlee. 
Since the worid, the base world, has no pleasure for 
me! X). 



Many reports have been in circulation relative (o the 
celebrated Mupgo Parks' being still alive on the inte- 
nor of Africa — a number of bboks, (hrawings and 
manuscripts have lately been f^uud, said to belong to 
a boat toad of christians seen off Cabra« There is not 
much doubt that those are his— as meant are taken to 
obtiun information respecting him, we hope soon to be 
put out of suspense. 

Some commotions are said to JImvvc broken out in 
Holland, when the decree for annexing that country to 
France was published. The orders issued on occasion 
of the incorporation, were resisted byfcvce, andeeveral 
lives were in consequence lost on both sides 

A terrible battle took place on the 24th Aug. at 
Port aa Prince, between the armies of the two hUmtk ^ 
chiefs, in which, although Christophe*s troops were 
neariy twice as numerous as Petion's. the former was 

Capt. Harrison of the Schr. Hazard, arrived at Bal ^ 
timore from Kingston, Jamaica, informs that all the 
prisoners taken on Miranda's expedition and who had 
not been previously liberated, were set at Hbercy by the 
new government of the Spanish Main, and that six of 
them had arrived at Jamaica.— All others imprisoned 
under the old government were likewise discharged. 

The C^rracas government have prohibited the slave 


We understand that a loan has been obtained by 
government, from the bank of the United States, for 
J5 3,750,000, pursuant to an act of congress passed the 
last session, authorizing the president to borrow a sum 
not exceeding g 8,000,000. 

An Agricultural Society, it is said, is about being 
formed in the state of Ohio, under the title of •• The 
Farrner's Exporting Company, of Little Miami." 
Their objects are, " to advance the interests pf com- 
merce and navigation; to encourage a spirit of im- 
provement in agriculture, manufactories, arts and scf- 
ences, and to aid the exertions of honest industry. 

The President, &c. have returned to the seat of to- 
vernment, where Mr. Morier, the British charge des 
Affairs has also arrived. 

On the irth September, 1811, at Richmond, Va. 
the sun will be annularly, and very nearly ctJttraUy 
eclipsed by the moon, at 2 h. 15 m. P. M. solar time. 

Maxbied— On the 4th inst. at Friends' Meeting, 
Lov. er MansfieW; Darling Conroe, to Eiizabetb JBro^n, 

daughter of Joseph Brown At Tuckcrton, c.n rhc 

l^h inst. by Ebenezer Tucker, Esq. Capt, yvbn H, 

Sbnitrdi, to Miss yane Lane In Boston, Mr. Jona^ 

than Wild, jun. to Miss Harriot Joy, A wit in the 
Salem Gazette remarl^ : 

First Courtship, Wild with Joy ecstatic. 
The brightened hours of life b^guiPd. 

Then marriage snatched the Jov emjihatic. 
And left the parties duubiy Wili>, 

Diip— AtOcorgestown, Col Wm. Jngtutine Wihb^ 
ington, in the 55th )ear of his age — his ren.ain& were 
dsposi'ed in the vault at Mount Vernon, near thcbe ^^f 
his illustrious relative. His friends, and they were 

many, loved him. Ai New-York, in the 39th >ear 

of his age. Mr Solomon Wiilianit, tf the house of 

Williams and Whiting, booksellers In Germany, 

19th Jul\, Louise Auguste Wilhelniine Amcl e. Queen 
of Prussia She died while on a visit to her U^her^ 
the Duke of Mecklenbourg Sirctiiz She was a wo- 
man of great beauty, and i>ossesscd all the arts of 


H's selections under the title of " Sojourner," io 
otn- next. 

For the literary merit of our paper we have other 
judges besides Mr. O When he next /arvoiir# us wiih 
a communication of a similar nature, we shall expect 
the pottage paicL 

CrUpin wishes ** a place with Q^ in the comer," 
unfortunately •;e are unable to grant his request; and 
can only allow him to be crhp in the corner. 

Youth is yet rather too youthful to launch out iota 
the world : we would however rccommcud his cultiva- 
ting his tdents in this way, and shall then be glad to 
hear frem him again. 

Mr C's 9imiiet are good* and he appears to have 
made some progress on his christian journey j yet his 
steps for one of this character, are sometimes so irrc« 
gular, that the Editor fears, by a publicaiioA of hig 
wanderings, iie should give the critk too great so 
opportunity of flourishing his S'jxxd; and thercft>re, 
though he also iotig did gaze upon this lovely ^floKcer ^ he 
thinks it best to let ic ♦• blush unseen.^ 

Upon our first being favoured with an iBtroductioa 
tor the venerable Iniham, he told us :hat mnety «wi- 
tnehr had passed over his head; he woty says his grasd- 
morher is living! ^ery. How old may she be? Some 
particulars resi)ecting this interesting old lady wooki 
be very ifratifying. We really diJ not know that our 
countr> contained such a surprizing instance of loiige. 
viity. Possibly she may re«olve our djubts respecting 
the first settlement of this Continenu 

Our friend J. Coopei's valuable c;ommui^:ation on 
Vines, will appear next week. 
Several valuable pieces are unavoidably delayed. 
Wr rt^flr-^that two Sheets will be published every 
fortnight t and one the succeeding week : the additional 
price, to annual subscribers only sixty tivo cents; sukI 
for those who are not, twenty five cents for the firu 
half vear. 

PubiiaJivd IVt^ekly,^ by D* Allin^on^ 


Price two Dollars i»ixry-two Cents for Volurte first) 
£>a} able semi-annually in advance. 

Digitized by 



" Homo sum; humani nihil a me alientim putoJ" — Mdn and his cares to me a mqn^ are dear. 


V )I. 


No. 13. 


No. XIL 

I sat the other day deliberating on yhich, 
among the various subjects that occuifcd to 
my mind, 1 should bestow the paper of the 
ensuing week ; when the follow ing Letter from 
a female correspondent was delivered to me. 
The perusal of it has afforded me pleasure, 
and 1 hope it will be acceptable to my readers. 
To the Recorder • 

Sir — I profess to be one of }'our adnirers, 
and there is not any one among your readers, 
that has derived more pleasure than myself 
fix>m those essays which you have published 
to the world. 

In an interval of sadness whilst viewing my 
past life, and impressed with conviction of the 
vanity of those pleasures which have stolen 
away years of my youth, I take up mj pen to 
address you. It is but seldom that these 
hours of pensiveness come upon me, and lest 
the disposition I now feel may be so<»n ban- 
ished, I am anxious to improve the present 
hour. From that benign and liberal spirit 
evinced in your writings I derive a hope, that 
you will not deem me unworthy of your no- 
tice ; and the wisdom and experience which 
guide you through life will, I trust, teach me 
some salutary lessons on a subject, the source 
of anxiety to my mind. 

I waa bbm to affluence, and am the only 
daughter of parents who dote upon me. At 
an early period of my life, when my mind 
first became susceptible o£ improvement, and 
capable of receiving those impressions neces- 
sary to guide me in tlie paths of virtue ; every 
attention was bestowed upon my education, 
which die anxiety ofmy parents could suggest. 
Their exertions have been continued through 
years of my past life, aided by the advantages 
which fortune has bestowed. 

Blessed with these opportunities, they had 
every right to expect the accomplishment of 
their desires concerning me, th^ I would ex- 
cel in those attainments which dignify the fe- 
male character and render it an oraament to 
the society wherein it is formed to ntfove. But 
what avails every effort that a parent can bes- 
tow upon the education of a child, without the 
exertion of the mind to which these efforts are 
directed? For, without diligence and study 
long continued^ no one surely can attain to a 
proficienc>*iil learning; and unless the mind 
IS impelled hyjm ambition to excel, every ex- 
trinsic advantage is bestowed in vain. 

You will perhaps think, Mr. Recorder, that 
I have been favoured with an abundant porti- 
on of the blessings of this life, and that much 
is due an^ much will be required from me in 
jaeturn for the msfny advantages I have wjoy- 

ed. But I must confess, and die confession 
is uttered in sorrow, that these advantages 
have passed away without improvement ; and 
it is with sad regret I look back upon my 
past life, and reflect on the loSs of that time 
which cannot be recalled. 

The passion for company and dissipation 
which in early life took possession of my 
breast, and which the affection of my fond 
parents would not suffer them to restrain by 
severity, has stolen away that time which 
should have been devoted to the cultivation 
of my mind. Five years have now elapsed 
which have been devoted to pleasure and 
amusement ; and tliat period of my life best 
fitted for mental improvement, and unin- 
terrupted by domestic cares, has been wasted 
and trifled awa\. I have become impressed 
with the conviction of my folly. A sense of 
the value of those opportunities which are 
irretrievably gone, rushes upon my mind in 
solitude, and frequently saddens those hours 
that are passed m society. When tired of 
the gaieties and amusements of the world, 
I seek for more rational enjojrment, smd enter 
into that society where refinement and ele- 
gance of conversation can alone attract ad- 
miration and regard, and where a superior 
and cultivated mind gives pre-eminence, I 
feel my o¥na deficiency, and deplore the loss 
of those opportunities which have passed 
away without improvement. I see many 
around me not blessed by nature with superi- 
or endowments, but who have brought ap- 
plication and industryto their sud, and are 
enabled by their information and attainments, 
to acquit themselves with honour; while 
I, sitting^ in silence and not regarded, un- 
able. {9 converse on subjects with which I 
am unacquainted, and afraid to utter an 
obsen'ation, lest I should discover my igno- 
rance and make my inferiority conspicuous; 
am brought ucu feel a conviction of my 
insignificance^ - and sincerely to regret the 
loss of that time which is irretrievaMe. 

Im{>r^8ed with these ideas, and with an 
ardent wish to make some reparation for 
so many hours which have been wasted in 
folly and inattention, I have often formed a 
resolution to desert the pleasures of my 
former years, and devote my time to study. 
But such is the force of habit — such the pow- 
er of idleness and dissipation long continued, 
over the human mind, that I have been 
unable to subdue the disposition which has 
for years been suffered to predominate, and 
every resolution I have formed has been use- 
.less. When I have laid a plan for study, 
have resolved to pursue it with ardour, and 
have begun my task, I have been drawn from 
my intention by the allurements of pleasure, 
and induced to desist. 

The winter is approaching, and the gaie- 
ties of the city invite nie to forsake the soli- 
tude of a country life. But I have again 
resplyed to devote my time to retirement 
and study. I will make an effort to repair 
the loss which I have suffered, smd endea- 
vour by diligence and perseverance to im- 
prove that portion of my youth which yet 
remains. I am however fearful^ that my 
resolution will not be persisted in ; I' am 
apprehensive of my inability to surmount 
the force of those habits which have gained 
an ascendency over me, or to abandon those 
scenes which hitherto have been the only 
sources of my enjoyment. I have the conso- 
lation however to reflect, thatalthough much 
of my time has been trifled away, a con- 
sid^able portion of my youth yet remains, 
that I may yet repair the loss of tfiose advan- 
tages which have been bestowed upon me, 
and lay a foundation for solid pleasure 
through life. And would the benign and 
experienced Imham teach me to direct my 
steps aright, to surmount those difficulties 
which will impede my progress, and duly 
to appreciate and improve my future life, I 
should gain a ^x>niidence in the resolution I 
hav.e formed, and think the present hour haa 
not been spent in vain. 

I am, Sir, &c. 


An evening's ramble in a solitary and ro- 
mantic spot, must awaken the sensibility and 
reflection of every contemplative mind. 
When the world is shut from our view, and 
the noise and bustle of the day has given 
place to rest and quiet, and we retire to a 
solitary and romantic spot, then the gratified 
mind, struck with the pleasing contrast, ex- 
pands itself, and rises from things, terrestrial 
to those celestial. It is in these reflective 
moments,' «acred to solitude and religion 
that the most heart-che^iifg thoughts are 
originated ^*— the world recedes, and the 
Et^al and his works alone occupy our 
attention. The soul brightens, the powers 
of our minds seem expanded beyond^ their 
usual limits, and a heavenly serenity diflfiises 
itself through our whole system. How supe- 
rior is theliappy cheerfiilnoss of such a mo- 
ment, to the gay and noisy hilarity of a con* 
rivial party ! the first partakes of Heavenly 
serenity, uie latter of gross ftnd delusive 


A gendeman in Angiers^ who did not trust 
to Us memory> and wrote down all he was 
to do, wrote m his pocket book— *" Me- 
morandum, that I mu6t be manried when I 
come to Tours." 

Digitized by 




Tb the Editor of the Rural J^isiteK 

Cooper*s Pointy Sept. 1810. 


I received thy note respecting my obser- 
vations on grape vines, and as this is nearly 
the season tor making the best use of their 
produce, shall attend to that first. I observed 
a piece in the paper signed Juriscola; which, 
besides many other useful hints, observes, 
that a method of giving body to our ferment- 
ed liquors which will enable us to keep them 
sound in ullage casks (or those part full) or 
uncorked lx>ttles, is worthy the attention of 
the learned and patriotic chemist. 

As that is simple, and certain if attended 
to, I will give my method as briefly as possi- 
ble. I gather the grape when fully ripe 
and diy, separate the rotten or unripe from 
the others, and press for distillation if the 
quantity is worth attending to ; I then open 
the cider mill so as not to mash the stems or 
seed of the grapes ; then run diem through, 
put the piamice €>t mashed grapes on some 
clean long straw previously made damp, 
and laid on the cider-press floor : lap it in the 
sti'aw, press it well, then take off" the pum- 
mice and add some water, or I believe sweet 
unfermented cider would be better, and an- 
swer in Hcvi of sugar. After it has soaked 
awhile (but d6 not let it ferment in the pu- 
mice) press as before, put aQ together, and 
add sugar till it is an agreeable sweet. I 
have found a pound to % gallon sufficient for 
the sourest grapes, and white Havanah su- 
gar the best ; but' sweet grapes make the 
^est wine without any sugar. 

1 have heretofore recommended putting 
the sugar in after fermentation, but on expe- 
rience find it not to keep as well, and am now 
convinced that aQ the saccharine matter for 
making wins should be incorporated before 
fermentation. Previous to fermentation, 1 
place the casks three or four feet from the 
floor ; as the filth work^s out,. fill it up two or 
more times a day till, it emits a clear froth, 
^en check the fermentation gradually, by 
putting the bung en slack,, and tighten it as 
tte fermentation at)ate6. When the fretting 
has ocarU- ceased, rack it off; for which 
purpose I have an instrument neai^ly in the 
shape of a woodeii shovel, with a'jgutter in 
the upper side the of handle ; place it so as to 
prevent waste, and let it dribble, mto a tub 
slowly, which gives the fretting quality an 
©pportuhity to evaporate, that tranquil»es 
the liquor and hastens its maturity* When 
the cask is empty, rihce it with fine gravel 
<o scour off the. yeast that adheres to it from 
fermentation, then for each gallon'of wine 
put in one pint of good high proof French 
or apple brandy, fill uie cask about one-third, 
then bum a sulphur match in it ; when the 
match is burnt out stop the bung-hole, and 
shake it to racorporate the smoke and liquor, 
fill the cask, and place it as before, and in 
about a month rack it again as directed 
above ; the gravel is unnecessary after the 
first racking. If the match would not bum 
weU the ^rst racking, repeat it ; and if it don't 
tiste strong enough to stand hot weather add 
xnore brandy. I have racked itiy wine three 

or fotu- times in a year, and find it to help its 
ripenififg; have frequently had casks on tip 
for years, and always found it to improve to 
the last drawing.^ 

Being fully of opinion that our common 
wild grapes are capable of producing wine 
as good and as palatable, (prejudice aside) 
and far more wholesome, than the wine gene- 
rally imported at so sreat an expence ; sdso 
a supply of that article being so yery uncer- 
tain, induces me to urge the making wine of 
all the native grapes that can be procured ; 
and in collecting them, to notice the vines 
that produce grapes of .the best quality, and 
which are the -.nost productive, as this will 
enable persons to selea the best vine to culti- 
vate and to propagate from. This ought to 
be particularly attended to, as there are many 
vines which produce good grapes but few 
in quantity, and others very productive but 
of bad quality : and I believe full half the 
number that come from the seed are males, 
and will never bear fruit. The sex is easily 
distinguished when in bloom, by the females 
showing the fruit in the heart of the blossom 
as soon as open, and the male presenting 
nothing of that kind. 

As the native grape-vine will not grow 
well from cuttings, the best way T kno>v of 
to propagate them is by removing tht vir.t^s, 
or laying branches in the eartli to take root 
for a year or more, and when rooted re r. vc 
them, or plant the seeds from the best ki.c'e; 
and when in bloom dig up the males. I vv jil 
cultivated, they will blow in three or ton 
years, but will produce different kinds tht 
' same as apples : and I have had some froia 
the seeds superior to the parent. Thine, &c. 

To the Ec&tor of the Rural rtsiter. 
There is not any consideration more im- 
portant to the inhabitants of large cities, than 
the quality of the wat«r they drink, and with 
which their victuals are cooked. Not only 
their comfort, but their health rests on this 
circumstance, more materially than people 
genendly are aware of, and it may apt be 
unprofitable to my o£ our readers, to learn 
generally Ae good and bad properties of this 
common and necessary^lQuid. 

It is certainly desirable tor. have dean 
I water to drink ; and yet this v^h may be 
carried to a veiy dangerous eKtrenje. Those 
most excruciating of all diseases, the gravel 
and strangury, are oftener enuiled upoir the 
unhappy sufferer by the free uat of limpid 
spring water, than any other cause whatever. 
In proof of this^ I will, adduce a few ibtis 
that have come under mv personal observa- 
tion, and conclude by a.few remarks on tbe 
? articular qualities of the waters used in 
few- York and Philadelphia^ 
The sagacious Elephant will never drink 
water witiiout previoudy troubling it, by 
stirrmg up the mud from the bqttom widi his 
proboscis.' In Yorkshire in England, where , 
the breed of race-horses is greatiy attended 
ttfi water is never given to them unless it is 
somewhat clayed, or with die admixture of 
oat-meal ; and who is ignonmt of the fatal 
effects that result to the human constitution, 

if spring water is used in a state of perspira- 

The city of Perth in Scotland is supplied 
with water by a canal from die river Almond, 
and strangers complain of its softness and 
want of taste ; but there never was such a 
disease known there as the graveL On the 
other iiand, the townof Arbroath, fc^ty-mifea* 
farther north, is supplied with water by- 
draw-wells alone, and unhappily there is not 
a week passes witiiout some persons requi- 
ring surgical aid for the cure of that dbease« 

The purest water I have ever seen, was at 
AyrsUre in Scotiand& By passing through 
coal-nines, of which that country is full, me 
water is entirely divested of animalculae and 
attains^an unusual, I had almost ssud unna- 
tural translucency. But what is the conse- 
quence ? It is only there, that I ever heard of 
the struiguary being a mortal disease : it b 
the common complaint of tbe peasantry. A 
stranger drinking broth or beer made of Ayr- 
water, is immediately seized with vomitmg 
and purging ; the writer of this experienced 
these cfects in person, and was thankful that 
iiis comtitution got so easily quit of a liquid^ 
which ke learnt afterwitfds the postilions did 
not even give to their horses, but take a sup- 
ply with them in buckets suspended under th* 
the carriages, for their horses in passing over 
this county. 

The gi-eat test of water, is to examine the 
tea-kettles in which it has been boiled: if- 
tiftfr aiiveeksusing there is no stony substance 
encrusted on its inside bottom, then it is 
i- iiolesome and good ; but if there is, such a- 
beverage ought to be avoided as the most 
dangerous poison. 

I reckon the New- York water extremely 
objectionable : its taste, smell and appear- 
ance I do not speak of, or care much for ; 
but it is taken from draw-wells, and even that 
which is prepared at the Manhattan works, 
encrusts a tea-kettle. It were happy that the 
inhabitants of that city had such a supply as 
the Pbiladelphians are blessed with from the 
Schuylkill, and nor less so for the people of 
Philadelphia, that they •gave up the use of 
well water for that alone. . 

I conclude with one very important remark. 
Soft river water will dissolve a stony in- 
crustation, that has accumulated in the bot- 
tom of a teaketde from the boilingf of well- 
water ; and there is not a better solvent for 
the gra\'el, than, to drink water of an opposite 
quality to th;;^ which en^ndered it. 

f . 

• Mr. Editor, 

It has of late b^'pomc extremely fashionar 
ble, in private circleS on the other side of the 
Atiantic, to adopt the Russian mode of ad- 
dress in conversation. By it« the individiual 
is stiled the son or daughter of such a oine, 
the terminating letters itch defining the son 
BXid ovTia the daughter. The fidkiwbg are 
familiar instances. 

' Maria Petrovna, foi' Mary the daughter 

of Peter ; Elizabcta Edvardovna, for £liza- 

-bedi the daughter of Edward j Hannah Ri- 

cardovna, for Hannah the daughter of R/ch- 

ardj Margaretta I vanovna^ lor. Margaret 

Digitized by 

Goo gle 


the daughter of John; Anna Jacobovna^ for 
Anna the daughter of James j Catarina Car- 
lovnOf for Catharine the daughter of Charles ; 
Susanna Vasilieovna, Susan the daughter Of 

Ricando Vasilievitch, for Richard son of 
William ; Carlo Josephitch, for Charles son 
-of Joseph ; Davido Petrdvitch, for David 
son of Peter j Vasllie ISranitch, for WilHam 
sdn of John ; Ivan Igoritch, for John son of 
George ; Tomaso Carlovitcb, for Thomas 
son of Ch^es. 

Peter the Great was called " Petro Alex- 
ovitch^^'because he was the son ofAFexander ; 
his grand daughter bv marriafe, die cele- 
brated Catharine, assumed the name of" Ca- 
tarma^ Petrovna.'* * The present emperor is 
stUed Alexander Pavolitch, and the meanest 
beggar in his dominions would be addressed 
in the same words, if his name were Alexan- 
der and his father's name Paul. 



^Friendship— —mysterious ccrocnt of the soul! 
Sweetner of lLfe» and soljiier of society; 
I owe thee much."-^ 

It is related of the celebrated Dn Young by 
one of his contemporaries, that at the close of 
his Life, commenting on the past, and speak- 
ing, particularly of his Night Thoughts, he 
observed: "Had F to Uve my days over again 
I would not draw so gloomy apicture of Life.'* 
Whedhier this great man had found that the 
Qoiouring he had given it was too sombrous 
for die reality ; tlwit as he mingled in life, he 
perceived man to be different from the con- 
ception he had formed of him in the closet, 
we are not told. It is said he added, " That 
he would satirize the fbiblee of humanity, as 
being the surest means of reclaiming them.^' 
I conceive by many of Dr. Young's later sen- 
timents, that he himself was impressed with 
the opinion, that he had viewed mankmd 
through a glass that not only magnified its 
errors, but strongly tinged them with doom. 
This miecdote occurred' to my recdiection 
cht my taking up the ninth number of the !Ru- 
ral Visiter, and reading the Recorder's eighth 
e{fusio|i* And is then, said I, man so surely 
Ac victim of duplicity ? Does he tlius surely 
commencoJifis in the tumult of wild desire;^— 
run througn its ma^es with the avidity of a 

ncri^le nature, and then rsatiiited with its* 

sweets, and disgustid with hi^c^p speties, 
as his last alternative sink into religion f 
I could not reconcile the supposition with 
the principles of that divine situatioi|7 where 
die Recorder tells us the hopes and wishes of 
Mr. ft* had centered. Man, said I, com- 
mences his career in life with a taste fy^ all 
that is good and beautifbl. " His counte- 
nance ope6, his mein erect, he rejoices in 
existence :*' the ardent fire of youth and 
gemus cpmroingle and incite him onward : 
the path of delight and novelty, that deviously 
eatchea hid eye, encircles and invites him^. 
He tiriumphs in the glories of creation^ and 
with involuntary gambols springs amid the 
the l^auties of a scene|lntQ which he is 
*• freely admitted to enjbythe glorious spec- 

One of the first objects on which the eager 
eye of man fastens, is his fellow man. The 
infant averts his head from the pillow of ma- 
ternal affection, and dries the tear of disqui- 
etude, to gaze on infancy. The prattler 
struggles from the embraces o£ his sire, to 
enfold in his tendril arms the fellow rose-bud* 
of humanity. He lisps his ecstacy, and listens 
with attention to tne half-formed notes of 
responsive joy. When his mom has attained 
to Its empire, and given fixed presages of 
the glories of the day, the youfli presses to 
his bosom the friend of his cnoice. He climbs 
with him the mountain : he scales with him 
the precipice. They quaff their nectar from 
the fountain of affection : their hearts drink 
with rapture the melodious vibrations of the 
^ chords of friendship. Honour, generosity and 
' renown, are the themes of their tongues. 

«* Oh then, the longest summer's day 
Is too— too much in haste." 

Like sister-bees, they draw honey from the 
same flower — they sip, and sip, and redolent 
of sweetness — ^they turn not to look on the 
other blossoms of creation. 

But still there are others as fair. He looks 
down into the valley. The rose has opened 
her guardian cincture, and is giving her beau- 
ties to the day. The snow-drop and violet 
peering by her side, seem modestly gazing 
on her charms, *' themselves the sweetest 
flowers." The lily reclines her incumbent 
head from the garish eye of the beholder : 
her odours steal upon the sense, and deliglkt, 
as the dew that unseen refreshes creation. 
But amid them he sees woman — the queen 
of the glade, whose form also delights the 
eye, and whose loveliness enraptures the 
sense : but she enthrals his soul. Toge- 
ther they cull the wild flowers of the val- 
ley. Novelty divides them: they rejoin 
and unite. Like two streams pursuing similar 
courses, they approximate — ^they retire-— me- 
andering mfngle their currents, and glide 
along united— tin the ocean receives them, 
that g^ve them their existence. 

(To he concluded in our next.^ . 



Thqugh ev^' body must allow the charac- 
ter of a coquette to be truly despicable even 
among ^Mymen, yet when we nnd it in the 
other sex, there is something in it so unmanly, 
that we feel a detestation eqiial to our con- 
tempt ; and look upon the object to be as much 
an enemy as he is a disgrace to society. To 
prove my assertion, however, give me leave 
to velate a circumstance which lately happen- 
ed in my ^wn family: and which, it pr<i)erly 
attended to,may be of real use to some ofyour 
fair readers. 

I have been above five years married to a 
most deserving womim, who, as she studies 
every thing to promote my hsqppiness, obliges 
tne to shew a eratefril sensibility for the esta- 
blishment of ners; and «ren warms me with 
^ continaal wish of anticipating the most 
distant of her iticHnations. About six months 
ago I took her youngest sisteir home, aa 

I knew it would give her satisfaction ; 
tending to supply the loss of a father latejy 
deceased, and to omit no opportunity of 
advancing her fortune: my attention tould 
not have been fixed on a more deserving ob- 
ject: Harriet possesses every beauty of pcr- 
sQn, and every virtue of mind, that can render 
her either beloved or respected \* aiid is in one 
word, an accomplished young woman ; and 
possesses a fortune by no means inconsidera- 

Among the number of people who visited 
at our house, the son of a very eminent citizen 
frequently obliged us with his company : a 
circumstance mat pleased me. He was an 
agreeable man, his person remarkably genteel 
and his countenance replete with sensibility:' 
as he sung with ease, and played well on a' 
variety of instruments, he soon, became a 
great favourite. This gendeman had not long 
commenced an intimacy in my family, before 
he shewed a very visible attachment to Har- 
riet, hung upon every thing she said^ and 
approved of every ^ing ahe did ; but at the 
same time seemed rather more ambitious to 
deserve her esteem, than to solicit it. This 
I naturally attributed to his modesty, and it 
still more confirmed me in the opinion which 
I entertained of his affection : had he treated 
her with the customary round of common* 
place gallantry ,"^1 should never have believed 
him serious : but when I saw him assume a 
continual appearance of the moat sttded ven- 
eration and esteem ; when I saw him unre* 
mittingly studious to catch the smallest op^ 
portunity of obliging ; I was satisfied there; * 
was nq affectation in the case, and convinced 
that every look was th& spontaneous effusion 
of his heart. ^ 

Tfie amiable Harriet, unacquainted with 
art, suspected none ; and being of a temper 
the most generous herself, naturally enter- 
tained a favourable opinion of every body 
else : Mr. Selby, in particular, possessed the 
highest place i^ her regard. The wmning 
soltnes pf his manners, the uncommon deli'- 
cacy of his sentiments, and his profound res- 
pect for her, to say nothing of his personal 
attractions, all'united to make an impression 
on her heart, and to inspire her with tlie ceiV- 
derest emotions of what she thought a reci- 
procal love. She made her sister her confi- 
dent upon this occasion aboi^ a week ago, 
and Maris^ very properly told the matter im* 
mediately to me. 

Finding Harriet's repose^ was seriously 
concerned, I determined to give Mr. Selby 
a fair opportunity of declaring himself the 
next evening, that there might be no possi- 
bility of a austake in the case, and that my 
poor girl might be certain she had a heart in 
exch^ge for her own. With this view, )" 
digaged him on a tete-a-tete party; anc 
whilst he was lamenting that my wife and 
sister were not with us, to participate in the 
amusement, I said gaily, " Egad, Tom, I 
have a strange notion, that Harriet has done 

Jour business ; you are eternally talking of 
er when she is absent, and as eternally lan« 
guishing at her when she's by : how is all 
this ? C^me, own, have I been right in my 
conjectures f and treat me with the confi- 
dence of a friend.?' This question cjui^e 

Digitized by 




disconcerted him ; he blushed, stammered 
and, with a good deal of pressing, at last 
drawled out, ** that Miss H irriet, to be sure, 
was a most deserving young lady ; and that, 
were he inclined to alter his condition, there 
was not a woman in the world he would be 
so proud of having for a wife- But though 
he was extremely sensible of her merit, he 
had never considered her in any light but 
that of a friend, and was to the last degree 
concerned, if any littie assiduities, the natu* 
ral result of his esteem, had once been mis- 
interpreted, and placed to a different ac- 

The whole affair was now out ; the man^s 
character was immediately before me ; and 
though I could have sacrificed him on the 
spot, for the meanness and barbarity of his 
conduct, yet I bridled my resentment, and 
would not indulge him with a triumph over 
H irriet, by letting him see I considered his 
Lite declaration as a matter of any conse- 
quence. I therefore assumed a gaiety, which 
was quite a stranger to my heart, and replied, 
" I am excessively glad, Tom, to hear you 
talk in this manner : faith, I was afraid all 
had been over witli you ; and my friendship 
for you was the only reason of my enquiry ; 
as I shrew<lly suspect the young baggage 
has already made a disposal of her inclina- 
tions." After passingja joyless evening, we 
parted, quite sick of one anothers company ; 
and pretty confidently determined to have no 
intercourse for the future* 

I went to Maria, told her how things 
had turned out, and desired her to break 
tliem with all the delicacy she was mistress 
of, to her unfortunate sister. She -did so; 
but the shock is likely to prove fatal- Harriet 
has tvet since kept her bed, and tor the 
three last days has-been quite deltriou« ; she 
raves continually on the villain, who has 
murdered her peace of mind,, and my ever 
engaging Maria sits rtvettcd to the bed aide, 
as continually drenched in tears. In spite of 
all my endeavours to keep the matter private, 
the tattling of nurses and servants have made 
it but/too public, and denied us even the hap-, 
pinesa of being secretly miserable. The mo- 
ment 1 beard it talked of, I called upon Mr. 
Selbj' and demanded satisfaction : but could 
I expect a man to he brave, who was capalde 
of acting such a part as his, to a woman of 
honesty and virtue ? No, Sir ; he called his 
servants -^bout me in his own house; and 
after my departure, went and swore the peace 
before a magistrate* This is the only metfiod 
which I have now left to punish him, and the 
only one also of exhorting parents and guar- 
dians to require an instant explanation from 
any man, who seems remarkably assiduous 
about a young lady ; and yet declines to make? 
a positive declaration of his sentiments* ; 
(^American Museum. , 

A Parisian wit, in a sprightly y«/ de tnots^ 
observes that every thing is gay and lively 
in the metropolis. We laugh, says he, we 
dance, we sing, always sans soucu and often 
sans *stx sotis. — We ^ould carry the play a 
litdc farther, and observe that in so doing, 
they frequently act like children, so\ts six 
orn*.— ^ Far. Mus. 




My heart adored three powers above. 
And bow'd to Justice— Fortune— Love ; 
I sought their fane ; but sigh'd to find 
That Justice, Fortwie, Love, were blind* 
Ah^ ! would the gods who stoie their sights 
In sympathy their souls unite! 
Then might the three display tOview, 
Charms that the graces never knew ; 
Justice the smites of Fortune move. 
And Fortune gild the shafts of Love^ 


Enamell'd, as far distant prospects, 

When gilt by the radiant sun^ 
So seem life's enchanting gay pfQspectfi» 

While youthful minds after them run. 

But 'ere to those scenes they have reached, 
Which seemed so bewltchingly gay, 

The sun with a cloud is overshadow *d, 
And all its gay glories decay. 

ReversM is the christians prospect, 

Which first as dark mom does appear 9 

But more and more clears up and brightens^ 
As day-dawn, and full day draw near. 

Then glorious scenes to view open. 
True glories that never have done; 

All clouds are forever dispelled, 
Eternally shines forth the sun» 


(Author unknown.) 

This Indian weed, now wither*d quite; 
Tho* green at noon, cut down at night- 
She^' s thy decay— all flesh is hay 

Thus think, and smoke tobacco. 

This pipe, so lily-like and weak, 
Does thus thy mortal state bespeak; 
Thou art even such— gone with a touch— 
Thua think, and sntoke tobacco. 

And when the smoke ascends on high, 
Then thou brhold'st the vanity * 

Of worldly stufi*— — gone with a puff— — 9^ 
Thus think, and smoke tobaco». 

And when the |Mpe grow*lool within, 
Think on thy soul defiled with sin ; 
For then the fire it doth r^uire*^— 

Thus think, and smoke tobacco^ 

And when the ashes, cast away,^^ 
^Then to thyself thou niayest say, 
*That t^ the dust-^— returh thou must— ^" 
Thus think, and smoke tobacco. 

List of LETTERS remaining in the POST-OFt^CE, 
BoRLiifOTON, N. J. October 2d, J18W). 

David AUinson, 2; Clayton BiDwn, Sacah Brown, 
Edward Borton. William Cooper, jun. Deborah Earl, 
Maria Emley. Caleb FieM. Joseph Hewston, John 
Hollinshead, 2. John Homes, (Schoolmaster), Zacha* 
riah Holmes, Mrs. F. Humphjreys John King. Hetty 
Lawrence, Ann Lovel. Sarah Malmsbury, Thomas 
M'Laughlin, George Mustin, fun. George G'Neale. 
Peter Putnam. Anthony ftfektess, John Richards, 
Margaret Roberts, % Lydia Rockhill. Samutf Shaw, 
Anthony D. Schuyler,. William Shippeii, William 
Skillman, L. Spargella. John Vand<^rift. 

Stepn.C. Vstkk, p. M ' 
Oct 2d, 18ia 


Political affairs, we believe are stcttu. quo. 

The brig William Penn, captain Davis, of Phila* 
delphia, on her outward bound passage from thence ta 
Madeira, foundered at sea on the 17th September, about 
the middle of the afternoon — ^unfortunately, the captain 
and all the men^, nine in number, perished, excepting . 
the mate; who was taken off nearly exhausted, after 
renriaining seven days lashed to the shrouds, several of 
which he subsisted by sucking the blood .from hi« 
wounds. We regret to state that Mr. Samuel HolUnt- 
beadf noticed in our obituary, was one of the sufferers. 

Slave Tradlr— Accounts from the coast of Africa, 
according to the 4th report of the Directors of the 
African Institution, state, that numbers of American 
vessels were on the coast of that unfortunate country, 
utider Swedish and Spanish colours, trading for slaves, 
which they smuggle into the Spanish colonies, British 
islands, and very likely southern states. Strange that 
WE, who prate so much about liberty and the rigbu cf 
man, should be soiegardless of those rights. [Trent. Fei. 

On Friday night, the 5th instant, no less than six 
persons in one family, in th« western part of this city, 
in consequence of eating cheese, which had been highly 
coloured with ytUow, were seized with violent and dis- 
tressing puking, which did not subside until the fore- 
noon of the next day. [Phil. Gaz. 


The mammoth pumpk&^ raised by Mr. Lehman of 
this place, which has excited the amazement of oW and 
young, was lately severed from its native bed : it draws 
the astonishing weight of 170 lbs. and measures 7 feet 
2 inches in circumference. The cultivation of this use- 
ful production has not yet received so mueh attention in. 
Pennsylvania as k deserves, and we are happy to find 
that the specimen produced b;. Mr. Lehman, has esc- 
cited an emulation among our farmers — a right Yan- 
kee spirit of making the most of a thing. 

In succeeding years, we may anticipate the delightful 
prospects of fields studded with pumpkins, and dairiea 
swelling with good rich cheese and yellow butter. 

MAiaTEi>*-ln this city, on the 17th inst by the Rcr. 
James M*Laughlin, Afr. Samuel Stockton^ jun. to Mis* 
Mary Ueart, all of this place— and on the 18th, by the. 
Rev. Doctor Wharton, Mr. Anthony D. Schuyler, mer- 
chant of New York, to Mifis Sarah A. Rid^^ 

Died— At Bloomingdale, near New-Yoi4c, Lieut* 
Col. Ceorge 7umSull. lie was highly esteemed by his 
fellow citizens, for the practice of those moral and so- 
cial duties^ which inspire respect, and give true dignity 
to man— on the 1 3th, at 4 he country seat of John 
Murray, 'jiui. N. Y. Benjamin D /Vriin#, -of the house 
of Collins and PerkiAs, booksellers^ of that city, and 
son to the inventor of the celebrated /rortore-— ^At 
sea, on the i7th September, Mr. Samuel MaUitishead, 

son of Mr. Joseph Hollinshead of this city In this 

city, on Thursday last, Mrs* jRebecca Wells, wife of Mr- 
Joseph WcUs. * *- ^ 

P . " "" 


' The comnf&nication on the subject of the Coles Town, 
mineral waters, is too vagu£ and inaccurate for inser-r 
tion Chalybeate is not the only medicinal |if operty iiv 
water, and lime forms a principal ingredient of some 
of the most esteemed waters of Europe. We will with 
pleasure receive an exact chemical analyeU, and an ac- 
count of the medicinal pTiipertiee of the waters 9^ Coles 

The Sojourner is unavoidably delayed till next week, 
as is also the Orchardist.. 

Some of our con«spondenta may be svprised that 
their eonrmiunications are not noticed : bat tb^ cannot 
be taken from the Post-Oifice unless the postage he paid. 

Meoii will please to excuse the delay of om No. 

We have received A^nltor's.«aays« 0iey are very 
acceptable, and shall commence next week. 

Published Weekhj, by D.AUimon^ 

CTT-f or tVUlilNOTOir, W, J. — 

Piios two Dollars sixty -two Ceius for Vohitnt firsts 
^yable &emi-anxiwkny in adtimee. 

Digitized by 



*' Homo sum; humani nihil a me cJienum putoJ^'^Man and his cares to me a man^ are dear* 

VOL- I. 


No. 14* 


No. I. 

** The lore of money is the root of til evil, which» 
whilst some have coveted after, they have erred from 
the truth and pierced themselves through with many 

As there can be no doubt that my text 
was formerly applicable, so it may with pro- 
priety be said tnat many in our own time, 
through avarice, not only ** err from the 
faith and pierce themselves throuf'i with 
many sorrows ;" but are effective instru- 
ments in leading others into a^ labyrinth of 
perplexity and mbery% With a view to 
evince the correctness of this sentiment, let 
! us consider the practices of a large number 
' of professing christians. The objects that I 
am about to hold up to view, are the manu- 
factiu-ing, using, vending, and furnishing 
labourers with spirituous liquors. In order 
to be convinced of the pernicious effects of 
this article, let us turn our attention to die 
situation of the poor labourer — ^let us enquire 
into the cause of his extreme poverty^ and 
ask why his destiny should be so hard. Alas! 
we shall often find that the earning of the 
husband, instead of being appropriated to 
supply the real wants of his family, are 
devoted to the purchase of ardent spirits, 
by the use of which the parent is debased ; 
and though designed by Providence as a- 
bhepherd to watch over and provide for his 
litdc flock of children, he becomes an exam- 
ple of evil, and the unnatural oppressor of 
his innocent offspring, his vow to be a faithful 
companion is broken, he is become cruel to 
his bosom friend — the destroyer of her 
peace and robber of her eartlily comfort. 
This is a common case — the picture is fami- 
liar and faithful. Alas ! it is neither dis- 
torted nor discoloured ! But how, my fellow 
citizens, is this evil to be remedied ? Who is 
to shut the flood-gates of this enormous mis- 

It is woithy of remark in considering this 
subject, that a great evil stands not ^one j 
it is generally supported by numerous props, 
each of which is in some degree necessar}'^ to 
sustain it: so in the present case the deplora- 
ble effects of this baneful article are produced 
by numerous agents 5 differently employed 
indeed, but all engaged in the same cause. 
The importer^ the consigner^ the merchant^ 
tlie retailer^ and the man who distributes it 
to his workmen, are so many volunteers in 
the cause o^Riiin^ so many links in the chain 
tvhich is leading many of our fellow creatures 
down to ihe lowest moral degradation, and 
to an early grave ! 

If considerations of this nature were to be 
fostered by those who are engaged in this 
traffic, it is presumed that manv would be 
convinced ot the immorality of tne business, 
and shudder at the idea of being active agents 
in the destruction of their neighbours. If 
the Ipve of our Creator and our neighbour 
had the preponderance in our minds, we 
could not for the " love of gain'' become the 
means of so much injury. Thus the axe 
would be laid to t!ie root of this corrupt tree 
— the chain would be broken — ^the props 
which support this monstrous evil being 
taken away, it would consequendy fall. 
fTo be concluded in our next* J 


As a Stranger lately arrived from Europe, 
I see much to admire in this delightful coun- 
try. The population and beauty of the cities 
indeed has astonished as much as the refine- 
ment of the society has charmed me. I have 
however heard, with sincere regret, of the 
prevalence of consumptive complaints among 
the youth, and it surely is most interesting 
to ascertain the cause and cure of this much 
dreaded malady. Philadelphia has attained 
such an eminence as a medical school, that 
very valuable communications will be obtain- 
ed from the students, if they regard, as they 
ought, the importance of the siibject. 

The medical folks of England tell us that 
the fever and ague has, widhin the last forty 
years, entirely disappeared in the British 
Islands; consumptions have come in their 
place. But still they are not by any means 
so prevalent as in America ; and perhaps a 
comparison of the climate, food and mode 
of living in the two countries, may throw 
some light on the subject of enquiry. 

In England the doctors blame nothing, so 
much as indulging in lying a bed of a morn- 
ing. It is very pernicious to inhale the air 
of a bed room after the oxigen of it has been 
been exhausted durine the night in sleep, and 
when the delightful freshness of the morn- 
ing, the lovely appearance that nature as- 
sumes at tliis period,' and the healthful ad- 
vantage of morning exercise are considered, 
it cannot be thought less than sinful to waste 
the morning in a torpid state i^ the tainted 
air of a bed room. 

When the weadicr ronders it improper to 
go out of doors in the morning, we are 
directed to use the skipping rope for a couple 
of hours before breakfast, in a large airy 
room. In every female boarding school in 
England, the skipping or jumpmg rope is 
used once or twice a day, and a couple of 
hours always spent in the open air, when the 
weather permits. 

I am induced to make these remarks from 
a suspicion that in America, the young 
people take even less exercise than in Eng- 
land. But I leave the further prosecution 
of this enquiry to those who from long resi- 
dence and experience, are better able to 
judge than, 


To a lover of nature, the last days of 
Autumn are peculiarly interesting. We take 
leave of the fading beauties of the season 
with a melancholy emotion, somewhat simi- 
lar to that which we feel in bidding farewell 
to a lively and agreeable companion, whose 
presence has diffused gladness, whose smile 
has been the signal of nleasure, and whom 
we are uncertain of benolding again : for, 
though the period of his return is fixed, who, 
amid the casualties of life, can be secure 
that in the interval of absence, his eyes 
shall not be closed in darkness, or his breast 
have- lost the sensation of delight! 


The following paraphrase of what is com* 
monfy termed the " Lord^s Prayer ^^ has 
perhaps no pretensions to poetkal merit; 
its recommendation ts a very uncommon 
affinity to She original text. 

Our Father throned in heaven mosthigh. 
All hallowed be thy sacred Name ; 
Thy kingdom come — ^thy will be done. 
As in the heavens, on earth the same. 

Give us this day our daily bread. 
And pardon all our sins gainst thee i 
As we to those offending us, 
Grant from the heart, forgiveness free. 

And to temptation lead us not. 

But from the evil way restrain. 

For thine*s the kingdom-^thine the power. 

And glory evermore— ilmr^i. P. 


As lately a sage pn fine ham was repasting, 

(Tho' for breakfast too sav'ry I ween) 
He exdaimM to, a friend who sat silent and 

^ What a breakfast of learning is mine !'* 
*^ A breakfast of leamiag !" with wonder he 
And laughM"— for he thought him mis* 
*• Why what is it -dae?** the sageqmckly 
** When I'ni making targ^e extracts Jh 

^«^^" -Digitized by Google 




Gcdsnt ftrma tog«« concedat laurea lingux. 


In tracing the histories of nations both 
past and present, with what disgusting pros- 
pects of war and destruction are we fre- 
quently presented. The philanthropic mind 
wearied with the scenes of savage cruelty 
and insidious treachery, turns with delight 
from the recital of the achievements of 
heroes and warriors, to the less brilliant but 
more interesting accounts of domestic occur- 
rences, of the advancement of literature, of 
nrts and manners, and to the relations of the 
lives and opinions of those who have been 
employed for the benefit of their fellow men, 
in diffusing among them light and know- 
ledge. While the brilliant explpjts of a war- 
rior, evanescent as they are shining, and 
destructible as they are pemicious, are ad- 
mired at the moment like the fearful meteor 
or tremendous earthquake : posterity who 
bear from far the resounding fame of his 
heroic achievements, suffer them lo die in 
tlieir remembrance. We delight rather to 
"hold high converse with the mighty dead,'* 
who can s^rd to our mind instruction and im- 
provement. The heroes of Greece and Rome 
are seldom mentioned, and even the name 
of the mighty Leonidas serves only to rouse 
attention to some elaborate orator in praise 
of freedom ; whilst the writings of tlieir 
philosophers, poets and historians, form the 
topics of ordinary conversation, and are re- 
garded as the source of many of our purest 
gratifications. We commend and admire 
the chaste simplicity of the Commentaries 
of Csesar, which alone have preserved his 
Victoria firom oblivion. The reputation of 
Cicero ia founded entirely on his Kterarj' 
productions, whilst his actions in the field, 
upon which he seemed to place considerable 
reliance to establish bis fame, are remember- 
ed merely through the medium of his wri- 
tings. The poems of Homer are universally 
known and sulmired; the stream of time has 
passed without injury by the adamant of his 
fame, whilst the wonderful performances of 
Hercules and Theseus ha\^ long since ceased 
to excite interest or awaken attention. The 
fame of Virgil and of Horace have almost 
obliterated me remem!)rance of Sylla and 
Marius ; and Augustus derives a stronger 
i:laim to the regard of posterity, from the 
attention which he bestowed upon Utemry 
genius, than hb victories however numerous 
and splendid, ever merited. 

Youthful minds, warm with the admira- 
tion of splendour, dazzled with the brilliancy 
of the actions of warriors, are apt to regard 
them as the most prominent and important 
figures in the historic canvass. Their feel- 
ings are excited by the warlike 'exploits of 
Pericles, while they deem his eloquence and 
character as a statesman, as of little moment; 
but when years shall have dispelled the illii* 
sion, when their judgments and reason are 
matured, and they view objects in theirHrue 
light, divested of all the faJse glare and false 
importance with which a youthful fancy is 
disposed to clothe them, they will turn with 
pleasure and eagerness from the history of 

batdes, the delight of their childhood, to 
peruse the pages of thoee from whom they, 
may derive gratifications more permanent 
and more pure. The writings of Bacon and 
Milton will then be remembered, while the 
victories of a Eugene, and the conquests 
of a Marlborough will receive but an incon- 
siderable portion of their attention and re- 
gard ; the amusing and delightful pages of 
Addison and Pope, will employ those hours, 
formerly dedicated to Turenneand Cond^. 

The fame and reputation of a country 
which is memorable only for the greatness 
of its heroes, cannot be great. A nadon's 
glory must be established upon a foundation 
more broad, upon a basis more solid, than 
the glittering splendour of victories and bat- 
des. These, though they strike the imagina- 
tion at the moment of their performance, 
when we consider that the safety of a cotem- 
porary nation is at stake, lose dieir interest 
when time has destroyed the recolkction of 
those circumstances, which entitled them to 
so large a portion of our concern ; when we 
regard them as transactions and occurrences 
of former days, with which no interests of 
our own are in any ways connected. 

But not only does the reputation of a 
country depend in a principal degree upoi;x 
her advancement in Uterature and science, 
but more real, substantial good, is produced 
by those who cidtivat6 their moral and ra- 
tional faculties, than by all the warriors who 
ever existed. A CamiUus Hvay arise, who 
may rescue his countty from the grasp of 
invaders. A Fabius may occasionally be 
seen to preserve the existence^ and safety of 
a state. An Alfred may give to his country 
a new birth, and raise her to eminence : and 
even a Washington may sometimes appear 
on earth, to give liberty and happiness to 
millions. Such characters however are rare, 
and those whom I have enumerated with 9 
few others, may be considered as die only 
instances where beneficial effects have been 
produced by military men. The actions of 
these men, and the advantages resulting 
from them must be partial in their opera- 
tion J they must be confined to their own 
countr; ; and even there they are forgotten 
in the lapse of ages. But the writings of 
illustrious philosophers, legislators and mo- 
ralists, are bounded in their effects by no 
geographical limits ; they also paititke in 
some degree, of an immortal nature ; after 
thousands of years have passed aM^ay, they 
still sunive ; they still are useful. The 
glorious achievem4^nts of Miltiades and Epa- 
minondas, have been of no advantage to us ; 
but the wi itings of Plato, of Xenophon, and 
of Plutarch, have been eminently beneficial : 
and if the idea be correct, which surely no 
one can deny, that the happiness and pros- 
perity of a nation is intimately connected 
with the morals of the people, and with the 
general diffusion of information among the 
members of the community, what warrior 
or hero has Britain ever produced, to whom 
not only she, but the world is so much in- 
debted, as to Addison, Steele, Johnson and 
a splendid galaxy of talents, the individuals 
of which are so well known as to preclude 
the necessit}* of eulogy ? It is well kn^wn. 

that when luxur}^ and vice become prevalent 
in any country, when thehbrizon of love and ■ 
charity^instead of being extended till it cm- 
braces mankind, becomes contracted till it 
is confined to self, that nation must soon . 
fall, must soon present to the eye merely the 
^* melancholy remnant of a thing that was.^ 
Who then can deny, that the men whose 
names I have just mentioned have contri- 
buted more to the sound and real interests of 
their country and ©f mankind, have proved 
themselves better patriots, more useful citi- 
zens, and more worthy christians, than if 
they had been endowed with the military 
genius of a Buonaparte; than if they had 
ccmquered at Agincourt, at Cressy, or, at 
Blenheim I The fame of warriors must be 
establbhed on destruction, cemented by the 
blood of thousands ; that of literary and 
scientific men is founded on peaceful in- 
dustry, and is productive o£ general utility : 
The one is like the tremendous tempest, 
which involves in destruction :dl within its 
influence ; and strikes terror and dismay into 
the bosoms of those who arc safe from its 
desolating fury : the other is like a gentle 
shower, which refreshes and cheers ex- 
hausted nature, and which, by its' mild in- 
fluence, diffuses joy, and pleasure, and com- 
fort to all around. Tlie one is like the im- 
petuous torrent^ from which no power can 
protect, no wisdom preserve, no foresi^it 
guard ; the other is like a calm but extensive 
river, which creates wealth, and improves 
appearances. The one is founded on the 
e;i^ertion of courage and ferocity, qualitk* 
which belong to man in conunon with almost 
evf^ry inferior animal ; the other is the off- 
spring of reason, that attribute which elevates 
man' above the rest of creation, and raises 
him into some faint resemblance, some dis- 
tant emulation,. M'ith the ineffaUe and super- 
intending Deity. 

In every point of view in which this in- 
teresting subject can be examined, it will 
appear that more pleasure, more refined hap- 
piness, more real utility, are derived fron» 
men of literature, than from the most splen- 
did successes, and glorious victories of the 
most renowned warriors : that the reputa- 
tion of a country must be grounded on it* 
literary character, or it will soon like ait 
" unsubstantial pageant faded, leave not a 
wreck behind.** Let then, the ambition of 
the youth of America be directed' towards a 
proper olagect ; let the literary character of 
their country be a ejTiosure to their eyes j 
let them employ those abilities with which' 
nature has gifted them, in endeavouring to 
raise the reputation of their country fov 
science and literature ; to render more happy 
the situation of their cptmtrj-men, by diffusa 
ing among them information which may de- 
light without contaminating, ami instruct 
without injuring. NEON. 


Je suis le capitaine de vingt quatrc hcwr 
mes, et sans moi Paris seroii pri$. 
A solution is requested. A, 

Why is die letter D Hk<5 a sailor i 

Digitized by 



{Concluded from page 5SJ) 

Man has reached die zenith of his day, 
wnd friendship brightens his noon. But when 
his shallow begins to lengthen, and the de- 
cline of that orb whose warmth increased 
with its elevation leaves the chill dews of 
evening to fasten on his frame-1-does he then 
cease to enjoy the soft intercourse of soul in 
whose allurements he delighted ? Do they, 
like the weary waste which the fool gazed 

** Fade to a blank and dwindle to a span ?*' 
No ! He bands his snowy locks to the play 
of the infant — frolicks in the ring, and acts 
** his young encounters.*' He takes to his 
heart the l)oy. The garrulity of age gives 
inspiration to his tongue. With the smile 
of complacency he relates what wild flowers 
adorn life's devious road. But with the 

Savity of a censor, he tells him of serpents 
at coil in their covert and spring on the 

The more we mingle in life, the more we 
see of our fellow man — the more we become 
dispossessed of those ideas which sometimes 
we imbibe from false principles df education. 
Man is not that vicious animal which he is 
generally represented to be. Even the fero- 
cious savage cries, " Let us succour the 
white man. ' Whilst we. sit by our own fire 
sides we hear of murders and alarms— of 
innocence corrupted, and of friendship be- 
trayed : here we shudder at the crimes of 
hurnanit\^ But when we sally abroad, we 
seldom find these occurrences come home to 
our notice. Under ever>' government and 
in every clime — m the sands of Africa or 
amid the snows of Zembla, we find some 
whose occupations are to ruin or betray. 
Witli tyger fierceness or crocodile tears they 
endeavour to entrap us. Like the poisonous 
upas, they stand cheerless and alone, and 
nothing vegetates in their shade., They seem 
scattered by the hand ef God as beacons of 
deformity to be avoided and detested. Yet 
wherever we go, we find the hospitable board 
contains another seat for the stranger j and 
that man, clinging to his fellow man for the 
reciprocity of those socialities which form 
the m^ed of his existence — endeavours to 
secure them by attaching him to himself. 
He urges his claim by .deeds of honour, and 
fastens esteem by virtue and benevolence. 

It is peAaps an example as striking as we 
can adduce, to shew the first and later im- 
pressions of the celebrated Cowper on this 
subject. The fine, feelings of this amiable 
Poet were such as attached to him. in ^n 
exquisite degree, the few friends of his early 
life. And that morbid sensibility to which 
he was so peculiarly alive, and which c-aused 
him to look with horror on all other parts 
of creation, but that which immediately snr- 
roanded him — formed a barrier to his gain- 
ing new ones. But in the later periods of 
his life, when his character had acquired him 
not only many admirers, but innumerable 
real friends, he changed his sentiments of 
mankind. In a letter to one of his friends 
he then acknowledges, that he begins to be- 
lieve, " when we circumscribe our estimate 
«>f what 13 clever within the limits of our own 

acquaintance, (which I at least have been 
always apt to do) we are guilty of a very 
uncharitable censure upon the rest of the 
world, and of narrowness of thinking dis- 
graceful to ourselves." 

I cannot but think that love of man and 
love of God go inseparably together-*-that 
the joys of the present, and those of the 
future state, are equally connected. That 
no misanthrope can S2iy Father to hi^ Maker, 
whilst the philanthropist, delighting in die 
interchange of sociality, and reciprocating 
good offices, goes smiling through life. 
Friendship illumines his eye and shines 
through its latest tear. W^en his day's 
work is over — attached to this life, but ready 
for a better — social affection animates his 
latest pulsation, and " he sinks to repose 
in the bosom of providence." 


From the Pennsyhania Farmer. 

As manure cannot always be procured 
in sufficient quantities to dress all the land 
the farmer would wish, I will put him in a 
way, from my own experience, by which, 
with a few shillings, and a little labour, he 
may dress an acre of land, or as many as he 

In sand and gravels, buckwheat ploughed 
in while green is a good dressing. The land 
should be ploughed in the fall, and laid up in 
ridges as before directed, to bring the land 
into a fine tilth ; harrowed and ploughed m 
the spring ; and the beginning of May should 
be sown with a bushel and a half of buck- 
wheat, and harrowed in. In July when in 
bloom, it should be well rolled and ploughed 
in, in broad lands. When this is done, there 
will some appear above the ground, between 
the furrows, that the plow did not cover. 
This must be stuck down with an iron instru- 
ment, like a paddle or paving shovel; and 
let it lie in that state for a month. 

In this time it will smoke, so as to be seen 
a great way, like a dunghill ; as it is a green 
dressing, it will quickly rot in the ground. 
The next thing is to harrow it ; then plough 
and sow wheat in broad lands. If you have 
a good crop of buckwkcat, it will t>e a good 
dressing for three years. 

This great improver of land is such a 
friend to the farmer, that if its value was 
more generaHy known, this method would 
be more practised. 

Clover {toughed in, is a good green drfefcs- 
ing. You may mow the first crop ; and if 
you have a good second crop, do not be 
afraid of ploughing it in, the same as the 
buckwheat. After it has lain some time to 
rot, you may harrpw in your wheat ; for it 
should not be plou^ed again, as directed for 
the buckwheat. 



The casks into which the liquor is put 
whenever racked off, must always have been 
thoroughly scalded and dried again ; and 
each should want several j^Qons of being 

full, to expose a large surface to die sdr, as 
long as the liquor shews aay consideraUe 
tendency to ferment. Should the weather 
be uncommonly cold, a covering of straw 
will be necessary. In the month of March, 
or beginning of April the cider is generally 
fit to be taken from the hands of the manu- 
facturer, and it should then be put into the 
casks in which it is to remain, and placed in 
a cellar or other situation where it is not ex- 
posed to rapid changes of temperature* The 
casks are now to be filled entirely, and stop- 
ped as soon as all danger of further fermenta- 
tion is over ; which is supposed to be when-* 
ever a blue film begins to collect on the 
surface of the liquor. It will however be 
proper to put the bungs in somewhat earlier 
to exclude the external air, imd to prevent 
the rapid escape of the fixed air, when a 
moderate quantity only is discharged; for it 
is by the union of this substance with a cer- 
tain portion of water that ardent spirit is 

But the bungs should not be driven in 
firmly, lest fermentation should recommence 
and endanger the casks. A small quantity 
of spirit is sometimes added ; and when 
scarcely any degree of fermentation has taken 
place, and the liquor in consequence retains 
nearly the taste of the unfermented juice, it 
may probably be used with advantage ; but 
when that has fermented properly, it is al- 
ways unnecessary ; and I have sometimes 
known a renewed and violent fermentation 
produced by it, which has proved fatal to 
the liquor. 

Ciders which have been ma^e from good 
fruits and have been properly manufactured, - 
will retain a considerable portion of sweet- 
ness in the cask to the end of three or four 
years ; but the saccharine part, on which 
alone theirsweetness depends, gradually dis- 
appears ; probably by a decomposition and 
discharge of fixed air, similar to that which 
takes place in the earlier stages of theic fer- 
mentation. Cider is generally in the hest 
state to be put into the bottie at two years 
old; where it will soon become brisk and 
sparkling; and if it possess mucht richness, 
it will remain with scarcely any sensible 
change during twenty or thirty years; or 
as long as the cork duly performs its office. 

In makmg cider for the common use of 
the farm house, few of the foregoing rules 
are, or ought to be attended to« The flavor 
of the liquor is here a secondary considera« 
tion with the farmer, whose first object must 
be to obtain a. large quantity at a smafl ex« 
pense. The common practice of the country 
IS sufficientiy well calculated to answer this 
purpose* The apples are usually groun4 
as soon as they become moderately ripe, and 
the juice is either racked off once, as soon 
as it becomes bright, or more frequenthr 
conveyed from the press directiy to the cel- 
lar. A violent fermentation soon commences^ 
and continues till nearly the whole of the 
saccharine part is decomposed* The casks 
are filled up and stopped early in the succeed* 
Luff spring, and no farther attention is either 
paid or required. The liquor thus ]H^pared 
may be kept from two to five or six years 
in the cask according ta its strength. It 




is generally harsh and rough, but rarely 

When it has become extremely thin and 
harsh by excess of fermentation, the addi- 
tion of a small quantity of bruised wheat or 
slices of toasted bread, or any otlier farina- 
ceous substance will much diminish its dis- 
{>osition to become sour* 

" A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss !'^ 

He that embarks in the study of human 
nature, and mixes in the various grades of 
society — ^who associates alternately with the 
ambitious statesman and the humble mecha- 
nic, the greedy merchant and the simple 
Eeasant, to aid him in his research ; after 
aving sufficiendy satisikd his curiosity, he 
takes a retrospect of the different scenes 
through which he has passed, and examines 
the motive tliat stimulates each to action, will 
find it all centers in one object : that from 
the king on his throne to the chimney sweep 
who haUoos in the streets, we are all engaged 
in the pursuit of happiness. It is true, the 
means of attaining it arc various, but the end 
is the same. One fancies it consists in ac- 
quiring military glorj*, another in amassing 
\\ ealth ; one that he shall grasp it through 
the medium of civil honours, and another by 
taking large draughts of the cup of pleasure. 
These, though they should compass their 
first wishes, and even then were satisfied^ 
which we seldom or ever see the case, will 
inevitably find they have been mistaken : 
that the meteor they are pursuing still eludes 
their embrace ; for although it may often 
*' gladden the eye of hope, yet the hand of 
expectation can never gi-asp it." 

I would have none to infer from the fore- 
going, that our Maker has placed us here 
to be alway* in a state of disquietude : thus 
elevated by hope to the summit of expectan- 
cy, only to be sunk deentr by disappointment 
in the gwl|>h of despair. My heart thrills 
with delight in the confidence that a mode- 
rate share of happiness is attainable by all: 
but the focus where all its rays are concen- 
trated is tlie mind — ^we must possess an 
approving conscience ; yet it too often hap- 
pens that, • 

'* The mind Btill turns where shifting fashion draws. 
Nor weighs the sofid worth of self-applaase.** 

Our search without it, will however be in 
vain. We shall do well to cultivate principles 
of tenderness and affection towards our fel- 
low creatures: there is perhaps no virtue, 
the exercise of which is productive of more 
real fertisfactlon, than benevolence ; it is in- 
deed an inexhaustible source of enjoyment : 
I believe it to be a just remark, that ** a good 
heait cannot be happy alone ; but will un- 
bidden, share with others in their misery ;*' 
and the bliss he imparts to them, is reflected 
back' to him again, increased in the same 
proportion, that the feeble flame when con- 
nected with its reflector, emits a glare of 
liglit. How exquisitely delightful must be 
the sensations of a Htrward or a Clarkson^ on 
considering that the beneficial effects of their 
humane exertion? in the ca,use of humanity. 

will be felt by millicws yet unborn ! After 
indulging in such luxury, surely their great 
souls cannot be satisfied with any thing short 
of that which tends to make a fellow creature 
happy. And is it an improper hypothesis, 
that du>se who are in the practice of such 
virtues here, are best capai)le of enjoying 
the *^ fruition of pleasure*' in store for them 
hereafter ? 

I can conceive no mortal more truly envi- 
able^ than he who settles himself down and 
determines to indulge in the " luxury of do- 
ing good'* — who resolves to employ a por- 
tion of his time and substance in being useful 
to his fellow creatures ; even though they 
should prove ungrateful for the favours he 
confers upon them, yet he is abundantly 
compensated by the internal satisfaction he 
feels from a sense of having discharged his 
duty : and if in other respects he equally 
deserves the approbation of his own mind — 
supposing him at the same time to be in full 
possession of the charms arising from a vir- 
tuous friendship — surely such a man must 
experience a foretaste of the joys of the 
blessed : there will be nothing to 

" Alarm his peaceful bosom : summer seas 

Shew not more smooth, when kissed by southern 

Just ready to e;tpire/' 

These reflections were occasioned by visi- 
ting the anonymous female school in this city, 
under the superintendence of a band of young 
ladies, who have associated together with a 
view of imitating their Great Pattern, by 
" encouraging little children to come unto 
them '^ sensible that in instructing these, and 
endeavouring to point out to therathe path 
to virtue, they most resemble him whose 
chief delight was that of doing good : We 
cannot bestow too much praise upon the 
members of this laudable in«titution, for thus 
giving up their time to render a cLiss who 
would otherwise be neglected, capable of 
performing their duties through life respect- 
ably, and also fitting them for being a benefit 
to the community at large ; hy this means, 
no doubt many will be made useful citizens, 
who would have proved a burden to them- 
selves and a pest to society. A general dis- 
semination of knowledge among our youth is 
a very important thing: they thus learn to 
venerate themselves as men ; and I believe 
. the happiness of a natif>n depends more upon 
this, than upon any other circumstance. How 
serenely comfortable must be the feelings of 
these tutresses, in contemplating 
" The playful children just let loose from school." 

Whilst they enjoy the idea, that it may b^. 
the nursery of some, whom America will 
hereafter be proud of classing amongst her 
children ; promising pLmts that woujd other- 
wise have been choakcd by the rank weeds 
of ignoi-ance. The season is now approaching 
when an exposure to all weathers, and a con- 
finement in the unpleasant chamber they now 
occupy, will be verj' tning to the delicate 
constitutions of many o^ these females ; and 
in a commodious room they would be en- 
I ablcd to carry their humane system much 
' more fully into execution. A trifling dona- 
I tion from the inhabitants of this city will be j 
' sufficient for that purpose ; and even sup-' 

posing it to debar each of us from a trivial 
gratification which we at present indulge in, 
is that equal to the sacrifices they make? 
As a person who feds a great interest in 
the credit of the Buriingtonians, I would 
have i}s to think of this. Meanwhile they 
can fix upon a nomr, that we may know how 
to address them. J. S. 

Mr. Editor, 

In amusing myself this morning with Cow- 
per, I opened the book at the annexed beau- 
tiful little poem. Doubtless manj^of your 
readers are as familiar with it as nqfself c but 
when I looked at the motto of your paper^ 
humani nihil a me alienum puto^ and con- 
sidered how interesting this was to a class of 
your fellow men, I thought the triteness of it 
would not be an objection to its publication. 

Our own country as well as Great Britain 
have generously and nobly come forward as 
champions in the cause of freedom. They 
have each nrohibited any addition to those 
slaves which they already possess in their 
territories, how remote soever they be. In 
this respect the laws of the two countries arc 
similar. Perhaps the sacrijice^ if it can be 
called one, is greater to Great Britain thai! 
to us, because her West India Islands re- 

Jutre slaves more than our southern stax^s. 
>n the contrary, we have in some degree ex- 
ceeded her. Some of pur individual states 
have made an essay toward that which the 
national legislature had not the power to do. 
They have agitated the question of givipg 
perfect freedom to the slave, and have madei 
some advances toward it : whilst odiers have 
nobly thrown aside the pottjr considerations 
of iiiterest ;. have placed their Slaves on diat 
footing which gives bounds to their servi- 
tude ; have prepared for them that educa- 
tion which, like the day star, gladly ushers 
in the sun of Freedom; have erected for 
themselves an akar, consecrated by the ge- 
rms of Liberty, and halbwed with the im- 
mortal banner of " Peace on earth and good 
will to men.*^ 

The Court of St. James has gone a step 
further than we have yet noticed. It has 
paved the way to universal freedom, by mis- 
sions and bv some ^jreparatory institutions. 
This is doubtless the most effectual way of 
rendering freedom permanent and useful. 
For were riches suddenly to pour her boun- 
ties into the lap of the beggar, it would create 
profusion and riot, not comfort and enjoy« 
ment* That cpurt has also instructed her 
govertiors on the coast of Africa, to prevent 
any negro from being carried away as a slave 
—her men of i\ar to capture aH English or 
Americans who, in opposition to the laws of 
their country, may be engaged in the traffic ; 
mid her. ambassadors to those foreign courts 
who have possessions in the West Indies^ 
to use all their influence in inducing them to 
adopt those measures which she herself has 
adopted, and make a common cause of the 
abolition of slavery. It must be a pleasing 
circumstance to every mind that the govern- 
ment of Carracas, in consequence of these 
exertions, has prohibited the importation of 
slkves. Digitized by r>^^ 



It is aiuse of just pride to the United 
States, that her [i^overnment has proceeded -this benevolent work than, that of 
any other country* New-Jersey, waOse na- 
tional character and jjatriotic exertiotts have 
been foremost among her sister states— has 
£xed the age of twenty-five years as the 

Seriod of slavery to those who are bom in 
er territories after a certain period now 
past. But are we sensible, fellow citizens, 
to how much abuse this law is subjected? 
Do we know that some of the holders of 
slaves evade this in the most flagrant man- 
ner ^ That the black, previous to the termina- 
tion of his servitude, is disposed of to inhu- 
man dealers in men, or kidnapped by his 
mercenary master — carried atvay and sold 
to the southward, or in the West Indies ? 
Why do we not join and petition for a reme- 
dy for this law ? Already these children are 
fiumbered and registered in the different 
counties. I^et us have a law, making the 
present holders responsible for their persons, 
as well as those whose situiations are not 
included in this term. 

There is another of the laws of our coun- 
try, which the writer of this has had occasion 
to. see most shamefully violated^, both in the 
West Indies and in Spain. The laws of the 
United States prohibit any American ship or 
citizen from being engaged in this diabolical 
traffic. American ships were^ however, 
employed in it. They continued the trade, 
and never returned to their native ports, lest 
tlie law should confiscate them. G. Britain 
then declared them to be lawful prize, and 
•topped their contraband commerce. But 
now that the Portuguese and Spanish flags 
again wave ou the ocean, Americans use 
them as the means of their unlawful trade. 
The ships of the United States nominally 
placed under the flags of these two nations, 
owned, and sometimes manned by Ameri- 
cans^ hut ahvaijs with a supercargo on boarfl, 
at this mament carry oti almost all the trade 
between the coast of Africa and the West 
Indies. But they do not confine their views 
to the Islands— they stop at Amelia Island 
and St. Mary's, and from thence they find 
an easy admission for their slaves into 
Georgia and the Carol'mas. They lay at the 
!^ize, and thence they smuggle their fellow 
creatures into New Orleans. The writer 
of this article saw several of these ships 
equipping at Cadiz ; and a fc^ days past, 
was with one of the principal owners in 
Philadelphia, who imblushingly avowed to 
hun, that lie had gained a large sum by the 

When, fellow citizens, shall we banish 
these base votaries of '* filthy lucre'' from the 
bosom of our country ? When shall we attain 
that holy character which among the most 
"Worthy has excited such emulation? That 
character whose glory is** to proclaim liber- 
ty to the captive, and the opening of tjjfe 
prison to them that are bound V* Should not 
6ur government make it a subject of negQ- 
ciation to those courts whose flags we thus 
usurp I Here however, Cireat B^tain is be- 
fore us. The court of St. Janjes has already 
made remonstrances against this illegal pro^ 
stiKttan oi thoseJlags. 

Surely there is a coming day when this 
inhuman trade must cease: a miUenium 
when the fetters of the slave must be broken 
down. Surely there is a register in heaven 
for those who bind them, and those who 
retard their coming liberation. Can we form 
a picture more deplorable, or whose colours 
tend more to disgust and affright, than man, 
lolling in luxury, and rioting in riches obtain^ 
ed from the blood and stripes of his fellow 
man ? But in vain he employs a " cunning 
artificer," and erects himself a palace.' In 
vain the Groves of Java yield him their 
spices and perfumes. In vain the fecundity 
of southern climes pour around him the 
luxuries of appetite. In vain the pander 
tortures his invention to procure him new 
sources of enjoyment. He may " e^aust 
this world and then imagine more," but 
peace has forsaken him. As the s^ple of 
Tantallus they give torment in place of de- 
light. He sees, but cannot taste them. Like 
the first bom of the holy Patriarch, he has 
eternally lost the jewel of his tribe : he has 
sold it for a mess of pottage, and he mourns 
his possessions as the price of a diamond 
which he never can reclaim. 

I must now, Mr. Editor, ask the indul- 
gence of your generosity. . I took up the pen 
merely to introduce the following poem of 
Cowper's : lost however in the theme, it has 

f>erhaps exceeded its office. It certsunly has 
ar exceeded the bounds which die writer 
contemplated. If however, it be allowable 
to be prolix, it is on this subject : if it be a 
virtue to be enthusiastic, it is here. To use 
the words of the celebrated Curran, " it is 
the testimony which natture bears to her own 

I must beg your patience a little fsMther, 
and your leave to quote a short paragraph 
from the orator just cited. How soon will 
the happy sera arrive, when the United States 
can ado[^ a similar language f ^ We propose 
the reclaiming of three miUions of men Irom 
bondage, and giving liberty to all who had a 
right to demand it :^ giving, I say, umv^sai 
emancipation* I speak in the spirit of the 
British law which makes liberty commensu- 
rate tvith^ and insepars^leyrom, British soil: 
which proclaims even to the stranger and the 
sojourner, the moment he sets bis foot upon 
British earth, that the ground on which he 
treads is holy, and consecrated bythe Genius 
of universal emancipatiofu No matter in 
what language his doom may have been pro- 
nounced: ^no^^atter what complexion in- 
compatible with freedom sa Indian or an 
African sun may have burnt upon him : no 
matter 'in what disastrous batde his liber^ 
may have been cloven down : no matter with 
what solemnities he may have been devoted 
upon the altar of slavery : The first moment 
he touches the sacred soil of Britain, tKe 
altar and the god sink toother in the dust : 
his soul walks abroad in her own majesty : 
his body swells beyond the measure of his 
cliains thSt burst from around him ; and he 
stands redeemed, regenerated, and disen- 
thralled by the irresistible Genius of vmiver- 



Twas in the glad season of spring;. 

Asleep at the dawn of the da/, 
I dream*d what I cannot but sing. 

So pleasant it seem'd as I lajr. 
I dream 'd that on ocean afloat, 

Far hence to the westward I sail'd, . 
While the billows high lifted the boat. 

And the firesh blowing breeze never fail'd^ 

In the steerage a woman I saw. 

Such ar least was the form that she bore. 
Whose beauty impress'd roe with awe, 

Never taught roe by woroan before. 
She sat, and a shield at her side 

Shed light like a sun on the waves* 
And sroiling divinely, she cry'd— 

'^ I go to make freemen of slaves.** 

Theit raising her voice to a strain 

The sweetest that ear ever heardy 
She Sung of the slave's broken chaun, 

Whereever her glory s^pear'd. 
Some clouds which had over us hung 

Fled, chas*d by her melody clear. 
And methought, while she liberty sung, 

' Twas likmy only to hear. 

Thus swiftly dividing the flood. 

To a slave-cultuPd island we came, 
Where a demon her enemy stood, 

Oi^iession his terrible name. 
In his hand, as a sign of his sway, 

A scourge hung with lashes be bore. 
And stood looking out for his prey / 

From Africa's sorrowful shore. 

But soon as» approaching the land. 

That godaess4ike woman he viewM^ 
The scourge he let fall from his hand, 

With blood of his subjects imbrued, 
I saw him both sicken and die, 

And the moment the monster tTgoj^i, 
Heard shouts that ascended the sky^ 

From thousands with rapture inspired. 

Awaking, how conldl but muse 

At what such a (heam should betide ? 
But soon my ear caught the glad news. 

Which serv'd my weak Uiought for a guides 
That Brittania, renown'd o'er the waves 

For the hatred she ever has shewn 
To the black*sceptered rulers of slaves, . 

Resolves to have neafe of her own. 


Hombe's Iliasu 

To calm thy passion and subdue' thy rage, 
From'^entter manners let thy g^ory grow. 


The lives of men are for the most part, 
siin^ai* and uniform, however those of some 
individuals may be chequered and distin* 
guished Iw^accident or casusdi^* Let their 
relations in life, let their circumstances and 
situations be what they may, they must pass 
the ^ater part of thdr -time in a similar 
manner; in social occupations. Opportuni- 
ties seldom present themselves for the dis- 
play of the loftier and suUimer virtues, but 
from the throne to the cottage, we judge of 
men and their characters from the ordinary 
occurrences of domestic life. Not a day 
transpires, not one single hour passes over our 
heads, which does not afford occasions for 
the exercise of those milder, yet more useful 
virtues, which are more commendable from 
being less regarded. He who makes himself 
respected and esteemed in social life^ is r^ 

Digitized by 





All hail, sweet babe! be not ca«t down. 

Though physicM thoa miiBt be ; 
7*hoa jet shalt wear the civic crown* 

And state of manhood see t 

Thy yot'ries they shall cherish thee, 

And goide th^ie on, thy way ; * 

And fill thy pockf^t Ijb'raUy, 
'Gainst ev'ry visit day. 


Mr. Editor, 

You will confer a particular favour on your female 
IHends in — — , by saving the. fpUowing a pla(;e^ 
in your paper. 

We— the old maids of n. ■ , 

Most grievously perplexed ; 
Feel on ours^es harsk, misVy seal*d. 

And, with lifes cares are vexed. 

When. first from infancy we rose 

We thought we'd naught to teaze nsi. 
Bach day to us did joy disclose, 

And.e'en some ills did please us : 

But soon alas ! we found, that we 

Fast on to age were moving ; 
And worst of all, celibacy 

Hard on us then was shoving. 

The offers that we often had 
In former, times rejected. 
Made us look surly, sour and sad« 
^ And ne'er the more respected* 

A single life, we'd always s^en, 

The vilest of tormentors; 
And therefore we had ever been, 

From its stale cares dissenters { 

But sad alasJ sad to repeat I 

We long in it have tarried; 
And wandering on in life, as yet 

We dp remain unmarried. 

Come then young men from Borlhigtoiir. , 

To > m 1 come over; 
For we declare when thus you've done, 

Youll find yourselves in clover. 

By authority, 

UINAKf Clerkk, 


Tie Joliovdfig UnU Poem ^Mooub's bat never 
appeared in tbit country* 

^Tis believed that this harn which I wake now for thee. 
Was a syren of old who liv'd under the sea. 
And who often at eve thro* the bright billow roved 
To meet on the green shore a youth whom she lov'd. 

But she lov'd him in vain ; for he left her to weep. 
And in tears all the night her gold tresies to steep ; 
•Till Heav'n look'd with pity on true love so warm, 
And chang'd to this soft harp the sea maiden's form. 

StilL her bosom rose fair, still her cheek smird the 

While her sea l)eauties gracefully curi'd round the frame, 
And \Kfir hair, shedding tear-drops from all its bright 


Fell over her white arms, to make the gold strings. 

Hence it came that this soft harp^so long hath been 

To mingle Love's language with, Sorrow's sad tone; 
Till thou didst divide them, and teach the fond lay 
To be love when I'm near thee, and grief .when away. 




As Lucy chanc'd an April day, 

Al^ng the wild parterre to stray. 

Where many a flow'r of brilliant hue, 

In gay profusion rose to view. 

She stopt to gaze: her roving eyes, 

Had rested on a tulip's dyes. 

That proudly wav*d above the rest 

In youthful pride, its sparkling breast : 

And near^a rpse«bud, gem'd with deWf. 

In bashful beauty, blooming grew. 

Her gaudy fCMrm, the tulip roU'd, 
In heavenly blue, bedropt with gold; 
And. o'er her bosom's milky snows. 
The rosy beams of morning throws ; 
Brightest of flowers->>she stood confiess'd, 
. The empress of the dreary wastes 
In gentle gales the rose-bud plays,. 
And, lovelier bliish'd at every gaze, 
And from its fragrant bosom threw 
Perfume and pleasure where it grew, 

Lost in suspense, the gazing maid. 
Their rival beauties long survey'd— - 
Delightful flowV ! she cry'd, and prcst 
The blushing ,ro8e-bud, to her breasu I 

». W. 

Cood poetiy is doubly amusing to a reader who hat' 
^^udied and. practised versification; as the shapes and 
colours of animal and vegetable, natmre seem doubly 
Jbi^Qt^ti]. to thQ eye of » painters 


The harvest in England is more abundant than was 
expected : flour has of course fallen. 

St. Bartholomews has revolted from her allegiance 
to Sweden. 

Spain continues in statu quo. The inactivity of the 
French is unaccountable; it is supposed they are wait- 
ing for the arrival of some Spanish galleons with dol- 
lars from South America. 2Q millions of which are 
expected; on their arrival, they may strike the ultimate 
blow. Lord Wellington has his. retreat to Lisbon per- 
fectly secured ; about 8iD transports are there at hisdis- 
posal Almeida has surrendered, to the French. Cadis 
is perfectly secure, and well supp^iedvwith provisions. 
—In consequence of the revolution of Carracas, the 
junia of old Spain have declared her in a state of block- 

Bemadotte it is nmioured, is elected crown-prince of 
.Sweden.— Louis of Holland was ill at TopUtz the iSth 
of August.— There is but one newspaper to be pub- 
lished in each department of France, and tlus is to be 
, under the ordcrsof a prefect.— The ports of Uolstein 
are shut 40 00 troops have left Hamburg foi StTal% 
^sund, to seize the English property placed there in 

The war between the Turks and Russians still raget: 
^ each party appears desperate in the fight { but the 
; Russians have gained some advansages, and even 
' placed the arm> between .Schumla (the head quarters 
. of the g^nd vizier) and Adrianople. 

Denmark and Russia appear determined to enforce 
' the vie>* s of Buonaparte against our commeree and 
. that of the British, which they affect to consider the 

Napolean has granted permission to the Vessels of 

^ the United States to touch at British ports, unlade part 

] of thcif cargos, and proceed to France. He wishes 

' the continent to be supplied through his ports, and pay 

the duties into his treasury. It is also said he intends 

givmg up the sequestered property of Americans. 

The marquis of Wellesh?)' has replied to Mr. Pinck- 
ney's Note of the 25th August: he has signified, that 
the OTders in council shall be rescinded, when the 
French act on their late decree. 
Spain Jias delivered up Pensacola to the British. 
1 he fort of Baton Kbuge has surrendered to the 
Florida patriots. 

The comer-stone of a new Free-School, was lateli 

laid in Henry Street, New-York- 
Brown, the peculating collector of New-Orleans, {% 

now at Washington. 

We understand Stephen M, Day^ formerly of this 

city, has his School nearly in readiness for receivinr 

Pupils, who wish to acquire a knowledge of the Lcam' 

cd Languages, the Mathematics, &c. 


In some towns of Massachusetts, the manufachjfp 

of straw into hats and bonnets has become an obiect 

for the enterprize of females. Passing through rt,* 

mtenor towns of that state, you will see almost ewlr 

, fiamily^engaged in it j and the ladies find their ac^. 

m It fc for not only can they procure ready pay for thcL 

labour when finished, but their earnings amouat^ 

more than twice the sum they could in any other wav 

Bonnets to the value of fifty-thousand dollars, ^ 

annually manufactured in some towns: apportioned to 

J n **^y' *^^" "^ust amount to 'several hundivd 

doUars, The straw, to be genuine, shotild be cut about 

one week before the usual rime of reaping, and aftcrT 

wards whi^nedby a process of burning brimstone. It 

18 separated into uniform strands bv a simple piece of 

machinery, and should be kept damp while workin? 

Bonnets, more elegani and not less durable than tlS 

tancy bonnets from Leghorn, are made in this coon- 

u ^ V*" u ^^^ demand for them is such, that in all pro- 

babihty their price wUl never be reduced by |he increase 

of; workers in straw. ^^^ 


I*^^« lately Mentioned, as renwirkable, that a b^tfc} 
had been raised whkh weighed 7 lbs,; but a beet wasv 
dug a few days since in the land of Mr Pollard, 
Charieston, Massachusetts, which weighed 21 pounds, 
oo"o }^^ }«»ves « the largest part of the root wa«- 
23 3-4ths inches in dreumference. It might have been- 
left longer in the ground without injury from frost., 
and would then have been still larger. 

MAaniED^On the S5th Inst at Friends* Meeting,, 
in Haddonfield, J-bAn Jaasbt, of. ftiovidence, i^cn. to» 
Anulia Cox^ of the former- place. . 


There was a most distressing fire in Charieston* S. C. 
on the Tth instant; the num&r of houses burnt and 
blown up was about 250, and the loss of property is 
, supposed to be half a million of dollars. We are happy 
to see, that in our principal towns subscriptions are 
opened^ and liberally HIIckI op for the- relief of the 

Theit is s^ to be a new street opened in Baltimore 
which begins at- the Pooi^Houscp— passes the G ae l 
.grazes the Penetentiary, and ends at Gallows-HUL 
Congress convenes on the fifth of NoYeinb«Ki 


Wer feel flattered with our friend H. W*5 ptospect 
of ** continuing a correspondent*" 

I's " address to the Swallow" has conftc to hand; 
it gives us sincere pleasure to receive even selections 
under jthis signature. We cannot lay claim to her 
favours; but would court them, and should be happy 
if in her original effusions, she would remember oiuv 
wants: and «• her fuH tribute never miss." 

*• Poetry, though not original," when as good as the 
specimens receitcd, shall always bfe attended to. 

The Editor must receive a conclusion to the Oriental 
Tale^ before he can give the first part an insertion. 
; Ikigo*i essay to teach us*' how to give time a shove,** 
' unfortunately got ihogoed into the fire before it was 

In No. 1^. a writer appeared under^the si^^nature^ of ' 
Monitor. As a communication in the present number, 
had that signature also, but is evidently from a differ^ . 
ent source, we have taken the Ubertv of changing it to 
Mentor, for which we hope the author will exeuse us, 
as it is done merely for distinction. 

A B*5 fabie shall not lay in the pigeon hole of obll^- 
vioa; but as to a poetical friend we would smy, 

«• ..^fPiy noilt tbou refute^ 

" 7 Z>f tiig&t e$certion of thy ready mute ?*^ 

And, since an authoress takes her choice of tensui,^ 

Why in the range prefer Tt^ACco woaacs i 

We b^ Dinah*» pardon fior omftting her- pl|kce of 
residence; however, if. she be a sweet fiowers doubu 
less some of the ir# will find her. 

Several valuable communications are received whklt 
shall appear in course. 

Published Weekly y^ by D^AIlinsonj 
CITY o;p<aijaLiNOTOv» k j. 
Price two Dollars sixty -two Cents for Volume fitttr' 
pay able sendi-iarimidlT Hi wifOHc. 


by Google 


" Homo sum; humani nihil a mealienumputo.^—Mcm and his cares to me a man, are dear. 

VOo. I. 


No. 15. 


No. XIV. 

Romae dulcc diu fuit et solenne. 

Maj: r?' audire, miiK ri dicere, per quae 

— pobser ininui damnosa libido. - Horace. 

Leonora \^ry justly laments the loss of 
too much of her precious time. But she 
seems now conscious of her error. She is 
aware of the value of knowledge, and is 
djcsirous of makinv^ :\^: h^st of her opportu- 
nities in future. This is tlu first step toVards 
improvement, and only requires persever- 
anci to accomplish her dtsirts. 

As i am now in the decline of life, it gives 
m^i peculiar pleasare whenever I am able to 
give advice to iTit-. younf^, especially when 
(its '11 tlie present instujce) there is any pro- 
Dii'vliiy tl)at the person to whom it is given, 
is 11": ly to take the benefit of it. Leonora 
has thought proper to ask my advice ; it is 
thirreiore my dutij as well as my pleasure to 
give- it. 

Yo'i v/ish some directions for profitably 
spending the ensuing winter. Now as much 
of your time has been lost, 1 thmk it most!>le that you should first acquire that 
knowledge which is most useful ; and that 
which fiiit deserves your attention, is' self- 
knovvlectge and a thorough acquaintance with 
the human he.irt. JM unkind in general, are 
pretty much alike. We idl have naturally 
tlic same passions, and the same incentives 
to action ; though some in a greater, and 
others in a less d.-gree, according to circum- 
stances. The best way therefore to get a 
knowledge of the human heart and of man- 
kind, is to observe what passes in our own 
brvT .st3. We must ex:anine well iiito our 
own ch iractv-T, and consider what are the 
motives of the generality of our actions. If 
we know ourselves, we v/ill be more likely to 
ccrrtxt wh'.\t is \\ rbnj^-, and petTsevere in what 
we are satisfied is right. For it is not at all 
prol)iible, lie who takes the pains to find 
out his defects, will continue in what he 
kno\'.s to be wrong. Hence we see, that 
self-Lnowl. dg«- is of all sciences the most 
i.nipc Kant. It**gives us the key that opens 
other mcn'u hearts, and by it we are enabled 
to undf-rstand' and account for actions that 
otherwise would be unintelli><ible, and too 
ou J iiuposing. But perhaps I shall be told, 
thrrt it We judge of others by the knowledge 
Ave have of ourselves, we m ill too often be 
su«f/icious and uncharitable. To this we may 
rt.{ ly. that he who knov;s nwist of himself 
win find »o many failings in his own nature, 
that he will be ready to pardon the failings of 

others. For surely very fe\v will be so pre- 
sumptuous as to blame in others those faults 
of which they know themselves guilty. To 
be uncharitable therefore, is the strongest 
proof that we are blind to our own/ailings, 
or in other words^ that we have made but 
little. progress in self-knowledge. Id orde^ to 
obtain it, you must make use of your reason. 
But remember that the reason of man is 
much obscure I. If man were now as perfect 
as when he was first placed in the garden of 
Paradise, and if he had no evil propensities, 
then indeed might he always implicitly de- 
pend upon the dictates of reason. But un- 
fortunately this is by no means the case. We 
ought therefore to be extremely cautious 
not to rely upon reason alone in forming 
our opinion of ourselves, of the human 
heart, and the world in general* We muft 
call in tlie aid of Holy Writ. It is there 
alone that we behold man portrayed in his 
true coloiu's. I would therefore seriously 
advise you, every day of your life, to study 
well some portion of that sacred book ; for 
to use its own words, " All scripture is given 
by ^he inspiration of Ciod, and is profitable 
for doctrine, for reproof, for <;orrection, for 
instruction in righteousness : that the man 
of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished 
unto all good works.*' 

Another means of acquiring practical (the 
only useful) knowledge is to read histor}\ 
Thewl we discover what man has been in all 
ages, and in all circumstances* It is there 
that we see, how his reason is obscured and 
distorted by passion, prejudice, ignorance, 
and superstition. This study will, no doubt, 
aid you in discovering the secret springs and 
hidden motives of your actions. It will en- 
large your mind — give you a greater interest 
for your fellow creatures, and root out much 
oftiiat prejudice which too often locks our 
hearts, stops the voice of nature, and dims 
the lamp of reason in the soul. 

The next sort of reading that I would re- 
commend for your improvement, is poetr}'. 
For poetry exhibits virtue in all its charms>and 
vice in all its native deformity. It touches the 
finer strings of the heart, refines our nature, 
and calls forth emotions that otherwise per- 
haps we woidd be unconscious of posessing. 

But I would by no means be rndecstoo4 
as recommending to read many books ; for 
mental improvement does not consist in be- 
ing able to say, that you have read so many 
bpoks. *^ Read not,*' says Lord Bacon, " t9 
contradict and confute, nor to believe m^d 
take for granted, nor to find tiUk and dis- 
course ; btit to weigh and consider. Some 
books are to be tasted, others to be swallow- 
ed, and some few tol)e chewed and digested; 
that is, some books are to be read only in 

I.I fi^' 

parts ; others to be read, but not curiously^ 
and some few to be read wholly, and with 
diligence and attention." Make a judicious 
selection of some of the best authors, and 
study them so well as to render, in some 
measure, your own, the ideas theyqontwnj 
and, m the course of your reading, reflect 
well upon the propriety and impropriety of 
their sentiments. I cannot better conclude 
this advice than in the words of St. James : 
'* If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of 
God that giveth to all men liberally, and 
upbraideth not ; and it shall be given him**' 

To Miss Diiiah^ and the Old Maids of . 

Excuse us. dear MUses. yoar penitent moan, 
3 leave our own to«rn» 
f or our eye» can desire, 
on fair to admire. 

compels us to smile ; 
so barren a soil ? 
ion, could never have kno'Wn 
«wi owiici aiju onars ■ ■ p oor pasture you'll own. 

So stale a collation, now winter is near, 
W«H siirelv be reckchi'd a comfortless cheer^; 
And should we btf tempted to scoff at your pray'r. 
We have your example to back us out there. 

But if you are penitent, as you profess, 

Go lessen the evil that caused your distress j 

And warn your young sisters, lest they too should say. 

That crud, rebounding, and heart-rending NAY. 

A corner eau:h one in your chimneys we grant, 
Where all your ill humours may freely have vent: 
There rave at the men, and the lasses don't spare. 
And serve as true Beacons to every young fair- 


QUEERFISH. Chairman. 
Done by otdcr of a meeting of the votaries of Venus, 
assembled at ,4 


Tim Ticklbm, Secretary. 


'An Elegy on the death of a promsiin^ youth 

who died suddenly. 
■Ouf brother, nipt in early bloom. 

Has leh this scene of idle care: 
He's reacVd his Father's house in peace, 

We mourn— ^« tb^e^t no mourmng there f 

What though his active, manly strength, 

Did promise health and many days. 
What could the longest life have given. 

Compared to what he there sqrveys? 

Long life had giv'n but toil and paii^ 

Griefs under which the bravest bow; 
Sins, disappointments, anxious cares. 

And oft to feel what ve/eel now. 

It is oar loss we monm— ^laa ! 

Foot selfish creatures, that we arc!—? 
But dry the tear ! we'll meet again. 

Nor is the time now distant far. 

Truth is etamaly yet errors endure for ag'ts. 
Digitized by V^OOQ IC 





Hark \ what silver sounds, how clear» 

in softest notes descendmg. 
What radiant fairy form is here. 
And gently whisjiering in my ear ? 
While o*er my pillow bending ; 

TThc shades of night had passed away» 
And o'er the distant mountains^ 
The sun just leading on the day 
Yolish'd the pearls on ev'ry spray, 
That fall in fairy fountains. 

*• Listen mortal," said the sprite. 
And spoke in tuneful numbers^ 

" IVe flitted o'er thy eager sight 

tn gentle visions all the night. 

And tranquilized thy slumbers.. 

My elfin subjects fted away, 

And I alone have waited j 
Nor dare 'tny mandate disobey. 
But tell the fair, without delay, 

The lesson I dictated. 

StiU m slueid thee j e'en the wise 
Will find, while oVr 1 hover, 
A mystic bandage on their eyes, 
And vain shall be eaclj rash surmise^ 
My ageta to discover/' 

She spoke ^nor could I disobey 

Commands so sweetly given ; 
In dreams the kind protecting Fay 
Had pointed out fair virtue s wa^. 
And paths thatiead to Heaven* 

Soon as slumber seal'd my eyes. 
These accents gently sounding, 

1 view'd with silent fix'd surprize. 

Various female figures rise, 

A rev*rend guide surrounding. 

♦< Attend, ye fair" began the sage. 

Your fragileyortr* adorning, 
Whih; ling*ring on this transient stage-— 
I^ei nobler views your thoughts engage. 
In life's unclouded morning. 

• Nor let the metstal spark of light, 

And ev'ry soft emotion. 
Be hid in clouds of endless night. 
Like brilliant gems conceal 'd from tight, 
. Deep buried in {he ocean. 

Too oft the sons of error say, 

In pleasure's mazes moving, 
That >ou direct their steps astray, 
And point their path from virtue's way^- 
Then gently smile approving. 

Teach theh» jou can only prize 

Virtue's calm emotion. 
As your purer thoughts arise 
In incense to their native skies, 

Warm'd by true devotion. 

Your minds let active duties- share. 

And pity's call obeying. 
Soften the aged brow of caj<, 
And shield the wand'rer— in despair 

Lifers pathless, desert straying. 

Heaven-born virtues still in view,' 

Wisdom's voice direct yom 
Sweet, as roses bath'd in dew, 
Teace will scatter pleasures wevvv 

' And guardian Sylph* protect you. ' 



Anna, when 'midst the fair I meet, 

I see thy fairer fonn, 
My heart's quick throbs lo gladness beat ; 
As When the sounds of music sweet 

My soul to raptiircs warm. 
Thop'rt like the rays that nature greet, 

Aitd night's dark powers disarnr- 

Oh Anna ! on thy breast the dove 
ITiy glowing glories owns ; 

And tells the warblers o£ the grove. 

That thy pure spirit, from above 
Draws music for his tones. 

Sure thou'rt the bright abyss of love 
That fires creation's suns ! 

Fvc rov*d the world with spirit free 
As air on Gothard's brow : 

I've wak'd the morn to notes of glee. 

And danc'd on joy*s thin wires to see 
Darkling the vale below. 

The purest stream of minstrelsy 
Could not have charmed me so. 

With passion^-fir'd as Sirius' ray — 
I*ve loitered on the green, 

Where beauiv*s nymphs, in endless day. 

With pleasure's golden sun-beams play 
In frolic*s jocund mein : 

With them in mhrth'a bright noon I lay. 
And knew no night between. 

And as the serpent's gilded eye 
The feeble bird destroys — 

They drew nie to the cavern nigh 

Where folly's sons are snaich'd, and die 
In fate's unseen decoys. 

Now prostrate at tbyjeet I lie, 
And pant for virtue's joys. 

So o'er the glade the humming bee 

Wanders with whirring wings : 
He tastes each fiower with spirit free, 
He tunes his lay to libert)', 

And still he fiies and sings. 
One flower of sweetest pedigree 

Its odours round him tlings ; 
Caught in the curls, he silently 

Yields to the magic strings. 



The Dublin Evening Pott of the 8th Sept states 
that the high sheriffs of the city of Dublin have given 
their long expec«^ed answers to the tequisition for cal- 
ling a. meeting of the freemen and freeholders to pre- 
pare a petition for a repeal of the Union, and appointed 
a day accordingly. 

The Spanish revolutionists at Carthagena have re- 
duced their duties 4 per cent, in favour of the British, 
in consequence of an agreement by. which the duties 
on their vessels are to be reduced in the BriHah islands. 

The revolutionary spirit in Spanish America has 
spread to El Socorro, Santa Martha, Tunja and Pam- 
plona,. in all which places they have established Juntas. 
* We have accounts, that Alexander Berthicr, prince 
of Neufcharel, was expected to be raised to the throne 
of Prussia, and the family of Brandenburgh reduced 
to a private station, 

A communication from Gottenburgh, dated the 27th 
Sept contains these words : ** It is generally stated 
here,*that an enibargo has been imposed on all ship- 
ping in the Russian ports " It appears that Najolean 
stiU meditates some great, and perhaps speedy change 
in the political face oF Europe. 

It is said if iord Wellington can avoid a general en- 
gagement for the present campaign, then they may 
be said to look better in the peninsula. 

• The strait'of Messina is said to be, •• asciene of war 
in all its awful magnirtceiice. '—General Murat is 
quartered at Reggio, making the attack, and Sir John 
Stewart occupying his post on the defensive, imniedi. 
atejy opposite. 


Adam Boyd, Thomas Newboi.d, Jacob Huptv 
George C.Maxwell. Lewis Cox»ict, and James 
MoBGAN, Esquires, are elected members of thetweihh 
Congress of the United States for New- Jersey. 

On Tnesday the 23d ult. the Legislature of this state 
convened at Trenton. Both Houses formed quorums. 

In the House of Assembly, William Kennedy, 
Esquire, of Sussex, was elected Speaker, and Mr. Da- 
niel Coleman re-elected Clerk, without opposition. 
—In Council, Charles Clark, Esquire, of Essex, 
was elected Vice-President, and James Lisn, Esquire, 

On Friday, the 26th, a Joint-Meethig was held, in 
which Joseph BLoojiFiELi), Esquire, was rci^<?fted 

Governor of the State for the en^uin:; year; James 
Linn, Esq. Secretary of States J6sEi>ft M'Ilvaine, 
Esquite, Clerk of the county of Burlington ; Chaulzj 
\ Ogdcn, Esquire, Clerk of the county of Gloucester, 
and John Johnson, Esquire. Clerk of the county cf 
Sussex— all without opposition. 

A bill to tax Bank-Stock, was reported to the House 
on Thursday, lead, and ordered a second reading. 

The legislature of this state has adjourned, to me«t 
again in February. 

Died in September, at his hous^ at Leigh, Englaid, 
Sir Francis Baring, Bart, in his 74th year. He wu 
physically exhausted, but his mind remained unsubdu. 
ed by age or infirmity to the last breath.— His bed was 
surrounded by nim out of ten, thd number of his sons 
and daughters, all 6f whom he has lived to sec estab- 
lished in splendid independence. Three of his sonj 
carry on the great commercial house, which by hii 
superior talents and integrity he carred to so rrear i 
height of respect, and the other two sons are retur eJ 
from India with forttmes. His five daug^hrers are al* 
most happily married, and in addition to all thss, it i% 
supjposfed he has left freehold estates to the amount of 
half a nuUion sterling. Such has been the result of the 
honourable life of this English merchant. 

Departed this life, on the 24th ult after a long ani 
severe illness, Cathanne HawelL widow of Joshua How 
ell, Esquire, late of Philadelphia 

The remains of this truly amiable and refpectaW; 
woman were committed to the grave on the Fritlj) 
following, attended by a numerous concourse, nor cnlr 
of the society of Friends, to which she Moaged, b Jtof 
other citiacns who knew her merits and dcplcieci 
loss."- -She had attained the 74tb year of her ag«, 
and could look back to a life well spent — ^to moral ds. 
ties faithfully diichargcd— to purity of precept and con- 
sistency of conduct — to an humbic >et fcrvcut j^.cr, 
uniting works with faith, doing good not to seen ti 
men, but to be approved oi GVD, 

eB9 '♦ ^ 

The following extract from the Report of the TreasB- 

rer of this state made to the General Assen,bl ir 

its present session, presents a ver) favourable vier 

of the financial concerns of the state. 

' ■ '* The sum divided to school societies on the 
first day of the present month ((>ctU>er, J8l0). .as 
% 37,101 18, exceednig the dividend made la r vo- 
ber g 12 393 43, and that the cash in the treasur ap 
propriateii to civil list ex|)en.«>cs, rtie 30th SepVeti jer, 
thi3 year, e.xceeded that of the last, the nu. of iO,Ja 
dolls. 96 cents On tbe SOtJb Hay oj atzid SepieinLer, tkrf 
tvas nothing due from wty tenon or sL^iJf tt> tt^ state ,^r 
taxes, or on an^ otter account, on the books nf tbe trtfa- 
sury. We doubt whether a parallel s:at irsent can 
b*» fifiven cf auv other state or nation.— —Miehoi 


Our readers will please to TeB.d faith instead of tnfi, 
iTiisprintpd in the 3d line of Mentor, No. I.; we hoj« 
Mentor w II excuse our carelessness 

Our CoKHESPONDKNTswi!! observe, that it is for 
particular reasons indispensable, that commuiiicaticns 
intended for our paper j^^ould be rrceivetl the week prs- 
vious to that in which our necessary arrangerncntstaie 
place ; — they are also requested not to send sdccied 
matier ait original. 



No. 45. Arch Street. Pbiiade/phia, 

Informs his fiiends and the public, thnt he ba? 
received by the Caledonia, from London, sever::! hai«, 
conipiistng a handsome assortment of Supt-riine and 
Conimcn Clcnhs, smgle and double millca Cassii:.trSi 
immediately from the house of Samuel WooJ; ai'^i 
will therefore be able to furr.ish his cusromvra or. •"■!- 
sonable terms : He has aho v\\ hand a i«eat aa^f^r:- 
ment of Waistoaiing, \\ 0'>leu ahd Cottoii C ' Is, 
Moleskins, Supertine, manutuctured purj/'se- 
ly for Cloaks, Sic. All of which. he ofters for sate, b/ 
the piece, yard, or garment. 

Having provided a nuinber of workuq^^en, hi will be 
enabled to suiiply his customers at a short noiice 

10 mo. 31 

Pui^iuihediyt:ckly^ by D. A\^u{<j/iy 


Price two Dollars sixtv-two Cents for Volume fi*'/ 

I>^yable semi-atnnnaCy in 

Digitized by 3 


** Hcnno mm ; humani mhila me alienum futoJ^ — Mati and his cares tome a man^ are dear. 

VOL, I. 


No. 16. 



No. XV. 

OF the various traits in the character of 
man, there is none perhaps, whose features 
ai*e more striking and perceptible than those 
of curiosity. It is a principle of action which 
operates continually and universally upon 
man. The student is actuated by it while 
poring over the dusty volumes of antiquit}% 
und the child in its advancement to the age 
of discretion. In every circumstance, in 
every situation, and in every period, we 
perceive its powerful influence upon the 
mind. However universal this motive of 
human acdon may appear, it b only when 
connected with proper and ladttable ends 
that its existence may be sanctioned and ap- 
proved. Like every other principle of action. 
It tends to pervert the noblest gifts of heaven 
if allowed to incite us to actions repugnant to 
our duty. And here it may be necessary to 
enumerate some of the methods by which a 
tribute is improperly paid to curiosity, and 
which frequently tend to degrade us beneath 
the level of human dignity. From the want 
of this consideration, a virtuCfio has been 
known to employ the greater portion of liis 
fleeting hoiu^ in examining the various tex- 
tures of butterflies, or the variety of colours 
;^vhich decorate these mutable insects. The 
same may be said of him whom curiosity 
leads through the croud of his acquaintances, 
to ascertain the opinion of his fellow crea- 
tures respecting his own performances, or to 
know what is doing by those around him. 
Many otlier instances might be mentioned 
in whicli tliis incentive to action is highly 
censurable and unworthy of creatures like 
man, by which our means of happiness is 
often decreased, and xve are rendered the 
children of ignorance and frivolity. The 
pernicious effects resulting from this propen- 
sity in man when directed to improper ob- 
jects, are numerous and obvious. They 
embrace every individual who is actuated by 
it, imd render us unworthy of tlie appellation 
of i-ational beings. 

Having thus taken a slight and imperfect 
viewof curiosity and its clFtcts when directed 
to improper objects, \ti us hasten to consider 
its consequence, in a character who applies it 
to noble and worthy ends. Here curiosity 
may be considered as the parent of every 
useful and imponant science. Sh^ has cher- 
ished the tree of knowledge, and spread its 
luxuriant branches over the eartli. She has 
Ivd nuu? through the intricate mazes of philo- 
sophy, proved die spring of his researclies 

into the arcana of nature, and impelled him 
to investigate the progress of nature in the 
vegetable world. She induces him to sur- 
mount every obstacle, and to pursue without 
ceasing the noble object of his desires. She 
spurs him on in the most arduous pucguit, 
and enables him to obtain the end, though 
the task proves laborious and almost incapa- 
ble of being performed. 

These are the excellent effects of this pro- 
pensity in man when connected with virtue 
and laudable ends. There are in our nature 
other incentives to noble and virtuous ac- 
tions ; but none perhaps more suitably ad- 
apted to tlic improvement of our condition 
m life, or the accumulation of knowledge. 
Curiosity incites the youth to apply himself 
with unremitted exertions to the study of the 
various branches of literature, and renders 
them peculiarly pleasing and interesting. No- 
thing can damp his spirits. He is pushed for- 
ward unconscious of his labour till he reaches 
the object of his desires, and when obtained, 
others are immediately presented which 
again attract his attention. Thus, in the 
vigour of life, curiosity is continually calling 
our powers into action, and directing them 
to objects the knowledge of which tends to 
expand our minds and improve our pre- 
sent condition. . It was this that led the im- 
mortal Columbus through a vast expanse of 
waters, and induced him to expose himself 
to all the dangers that must necessarily ensue 
upon so hazardous an undertaking. It was 
this that led him to a discovery of Uiose parts 
of the globe on- which no civilized being Was 
ever known to tread his foot before, and 
which have proved the^source of many of the 
conveniencies of life. 

Curiosity seems to have first opened the 
book of knowledge, and^led our eyes over 
its numerous pages. It 3irected the atten- 
tion of Ner.ton to the revolution of the 
Elanets, whereby those phenomena in the 
eavens have been solved, which excited the 
admiration of thousands, and perplexed the 
reasoning faculties of man. But that we may 
the better judge of this motive of action, let 
us for a moment suppose ourselves umpflu- 
ertced by it. Will not, at the same iStant, 
all scientific researches be laid aside ? Will 
hot the laudable achievements of virtuous 
persons be consigned to oblivion, and the 
revolutions of empires be doomed to eternal 
neglect ? Will not all examples of former 
ages be forgotten to direct the rising off- 
spring in the various employments allotted 
to their care ? That these inconveniencies 
would follow from the extirpation of this pro- 
pensity is obvious and needs no further illus- 
tration. I shall therefore conclude with re- 
peatmg, that when directed to noble and 

useful purposes it is worthy of being cherish- 
ed; but that in every other circumstance it 
t^nds to diminish our importance in the eyes 
both of God and man. And, with Doctor 
Johnson, that ** Curiosity is in great and 
generous minds, the first passion and thjC 
last ; and, perhaps, always juredominates in 

f proportion to the s^trength of the mental 



IT is. a remarkable and memorable cir- 
cumstance, that the first newspaper or ga- 
zette published in England was immediately 
preceding the attempt of the haughty Philip 
of Spain to conquer that island with his far- 
famed " Invincible Armada." The wonder- 
ful woman who then sat upon the throne of 
England, at that time oS difliculty and dan- 
ger, when her stoutest subjects trembled with 
apprehension at the consequences of this 
attempt, was cool, collected and unmoved. 
At that period she conceived the idea of dls- 
seminatmg among the people newspapers 
and gazettes, by means of which they could 
obtsun information of the most useful nature. 
From that time literature and learning have 
been extending themselves among the Eng- 
lish, in the same proportion that bigotry, 
superstition and Ignorance, have been declin- 
ing. It was undoubtedly one of the most 
prominent marks of that superiority In under- 
standing, that fdreseeing mtclllgence and 
political sagacity which belonged to Eliza- 
beth, to have conceived and executed this 
idea, to which she was led by no experience 

of former times. 



^" ■*== 

Kotzebue says, " I have a practical stand- 
ard by which to measure unhippiness, which 
rarely deceives me. Whenever any thing 
unpliil^ant occurs to me, I ask myself whe- 
ther In a year's time I shall think of it more ? 
Will It then have any influence upon my fate? 
If I mtet answer these questions in the affir- 
mative, I have then reason to consider it as 
a misfoKtune ; if not, I concern myself n^ 
more about it.*' 


A solution is requested. 

Yirtue is the best sop^ ofplecsut^ 
Digitized by VjOOQTC 



Advice to a Tounff Lady on /fozTig^ to pass 
the iVinter in Town. 

Dear Jenny, 
The time has at length arrived when you 
are no longer to be confined here in the 
country, and when by permission of your 
parents, your grandmama, and your uncles 
and aunts, you are to go up to town to spend 
a part of the winter. You know how fond I 
have always been of you : and though I am 
yowrgveat grand uncle, and have seen ninety 
summer suns roll over my head ; yet not for 
that I assure you has " ag« quenched one 
spark of manly fire." I feel all the fond 
uncle rising in ray heart* Indeed, to use an 
CiLpressive proverb that was in use when I 
was a boy, *my heart seems getting up into 
my throat whenever I speak of your depar- 
ture, and chokes my utterance. I cannot 
conceal, for I have already told you, how 
fond I am of you. Indeed, as Campbell says, 

*' You are the ritnbow to my sight— 
My sun — my heaven of delight?' 

You must not be surprised at ^y using 
such warm language ; for you know my white 
hairs — my totterinj); limbs^ my failing senses 
and witliered extremities, plainly shew that 
the vigour of youth is going away from them : 
but it has only left them to retire to the centrei 
and makes ray heart so,muchtl>e more warm ; 
yet it cannot be saict of me, although I have 
seen gcneradons pass away, that I am but the 
" melancholy remembrance of a thing that 
was,'* as some author expresses it. I am 
hale, hearty, and egad I feel myself quite 
young, my dear, and never can have one wish 
to be a moment younger, or to change my 
situation any how — ^when you, like a charm- 
ing girl as you are, pratde to me so prettily, 
or sing me, " O the days when I was young," 
or something of the like o' that. As I was 
saying, my love, this warmth is all in my 
heart ; and yet like Bob Acres' courage, it 
seems oozing out ^t my finger ends, gets 
into my quill, and wiU shew itself on my 

Your debiit in the fashionable circles of 
the town, is a circumstance of no little im- 
portance ; it is an aera ii> which, you will 
make impressions favourable oi;^nfavoura- 
We, and according to which you lean,^ so you 
must remain ; for a character once given in 
the gay world, remains as un*dtefable as the 
laws of the Medes and Persians, a^^ose- 
phus says* And this is tlic reason > as i wish 
to give you reasons for all I siy, and not as 
many great grand uncles and bth^irs^o, re- 
quire your observance of maxims, o*\xhich 
like so many ipse dixits you know riot the 
why and wherefore. — Well, as I was saying, 
the reason is that every new comer into the 
hant tony like a rooster fresh turned into a 
coop, gets narrowly examined and pecked at. 
He, or she — which are the same thing, my 
love, speaking in a moral sense, and I beg 
you will understand it so without further ex- 
planation^ — I say, he is first judged of by the 
colour or variety of his plumage and the swell 
of his neck. He soon finds himself, howe- 
ver, more closely set at, and he must take 
care that he does not get violently hen- 
pecked; for if he do, he falh " never to rise 

again," as Bums says. To prevent the pos- 
sibility of this, his plumes should be finely 
oiled and smoothly laid ; and if he can have 
nestled a litde among some sprigs of worm- 
wood, it will give a finish that will be imper- 
vious not only to the sliarpest hen's-bills, but 
even to cock-spurs. When, therefore, th? 
character of the person is fixed, it circulates 
as ladies^ news : every lady next morning is 
in haste to snatch her hat, rug and indispen- 
sible — see Jenny what an alteration ; bonnet, 
cloak and pockets they used to be called in 
my time : " What a fall was there my coun- 
trymen," as Shakespeare says.^ But to return 
— Every lady sets out, and every beau, with 
his six inch rattan, commences his tour de 
promenade. They call at every house, like 
so many undertakers: they give the news 
and the decision — the more lucky he who 
gets his information first to market. The 
whole t'?wn notes the acquisition ; and as the 
whole town must acquiesce in fashionable 
matters, it would be very shocking to hazard 
tranquility by a change. TV.e record there- 
fore ever remains in statu quo. But I grow 
prolix : I must stop the " garrulity of age,** 
as Addison says, and give you some rules 
for your conduct. 

When you arrive at Mrs. A 's, who 

is one of your cousins german by your great 
grandmothei 's side — ^for I keep a genealogi- 
cal tree of all of them, not a man, woman, or 
child is bom but I have them registered — I 
say, wheuvyou arrive, you will already have 
seen that the great city is not like our village 

—where once a week we come 

And thither drive our tender lambs from home; 

as Virgil says ; the first objects that will at- 
tract your attention will be a swarm of buz- 
zers surrounding you. If they were real 
bees in search of honey, I shoidd not warn 
you to beware of them : but you will gene- 
rally find, my dear child, that the whole com- 
pany is made up of wasps and house flies. 
These insects are a species of creatures called 
Deaus, whose occupations are — slinging and 
making a noise. There are two orders of 
them, as you will perceive by vayclassijication. 
The former only possesses the power to 
wound : of them you must always be aware 
of the approach ^ but the others you may 
suflFer to buzz about, and even settle on you, 
without giving them a look or tliought, unless 
you have nothing better to do. You will 
sometimes be accosted by a honey bee : thesie 
always cull the sweetest flowei-s ; they never 
extract any thing but what promotes the sa- 
nity of the plant that they draw from, and 
theyipep^y the value of what tliey take, in 
healtli and genuine honej'. 

As you will probably airive in town before 
dining hours, unless some accident shduld 
happen to the steam boat, your first meal at 

your cousin's will be dinner. Mrs. A is 

in the habit of seeing a great deal of company 
at her table ; and among those who frequent 
it you will meet many of the most litei-arj' 
characters, as well as the most fashionable : 
you will find ladies of the first sentiment — 
bloods of the first water, and even theatricals; 
of the latter however there are only two, now 
Cooper is away, that ^ro^dmitted into gen- 

teel circles. The society of Pfliw^ sometimes 
gives much pleasure and improvement -y and 
you must beware of setting Wood on fire — 
because he is married. You will often have 
tlie privilege of sitting with Paine in com- 
pany ; but if I judge rightly of you, my dear, 
you will seldom depart xvith him. Make 
it a general rule to appear at table, when 
your cousin has company, In your hat and 
riding dress : appear as though you had been 
out J appear dehciously fatigued— don't en- 
deavour to be agreeable : a young lady 
should never exert herself at the dinner ta- 
ble, because that is not her sphere. Be 
sure you have your lips touched with the 
new fashioned blue lip-salve, and your face 
washed with the Dutchess of St. A— 's 
winter morning lotion ; both of these give die 
countenance an appearance most interestingly 
livid — an appearance very proper for an Oc- 
tober morning.. Do not eat animal food. 
Take nothing on your plate the first course^ 
but an Irish potatoe and a Htde salt: the sc« 
cond course, be helped to a modikin of pick- 
led beet tops ; these are favourable to the 
complexion and figure now in voj^e : but 
should there be none of the latter, have your 
plate changed and take another potatoe. Eat 
no sweet potatoe or pye, for this would have 
too much the appearance of possessing ad 
appetite : bflt when the conservesj^ome on the 
table, should there be any thing of a rare fc* 
reign kind^ be helped to a anwdl piece merely 
from curiosity, but do not eat any* At the 
same time be very anxious to know how they 
taste, what is the peculiar flavour^ &c. : ask 
about them in an audible voice, to shew you 
do not eat of what is before yoiu When a 
gentleman naks you to allow him to take wine 
with you, permit him with a mat vohnte to 
pour you a few drops ; merely touch the edge 
of the glass to your under lip— do not ^ve it 
tlve slightest tilt, lest it shouki be thought 
you wished' to taste an}-. Should several 
gentlemen ask you to take wine, let each fill 
a. drop, and afterward appear shocked at the 
quantity you have before you. When you 
rise from the table^ s]K>uld you absolutely 
require more sustenance, you must have 
pre\'iou8ly arranged with Bettj^ and John tflr 
have some tit bits in your chamber. 
(^Fo be continued.) 

«0ll YHE RURAL riSITfeR. 

No. I. 

To every man who des»es to be, and t6 
do right, the investigation of the rectr^ude, 
or tlie iniquity of rvar may be pleasant and 
profitable i ai>d he who has not an anxious 
desire to discover and know truth frnm er- 
ror, right firon* injury, and virtue from vice, 
is destitute of the main principle of piety and 
benevolence ; and has reason to tremble for 
the dangerous condition ctf his immortal 

War, and bloodshed, and desolation stalk 
horribly throligh the nations of Europe, and 
distress, and anguish apid horror pursue her 
in her rout. Our Fredish Union, though 
still blessed with plenty and peace, has smart- 
ed through the injustice-pf the belligerents ;» 

Digitized by V^^OOQ^^ 


and revenge has urged usf tp plupge ouiwlves 
in the desolatitig vortex» Is vr^j an at>peal 
to reason and revelation, or to revengeful 
passion and pov^er ? 

Bellum est ulthna ratio re^m : War Is the 
last reason of kings ; and is an appeal from 
reason, to revenge, force, and power; and 
may be truly stiled the tyranny, instead of 
the *«' uUhna ratio,^ or la^t reaso^i of kings j 
and in which might is substituted for rights 
in numerous instances. Hence M^Fingal 

That " \irZY itself is nothing further. 
Than the art and mjrstcry of murther? 
And who most methods has essay'd, 
Is the best general of the VndtJ' 

Warriors resemble the carnivorous beasts 
of the woods ; for both devour flesh to satv^ 
ate their desires; and, as observed by Hudi- 
bras on this resemblance : 

■ *■■<' A« the teeth in beasts of prty 
Are swordsr with whkh they fight in *fray ; 
So swords, in men of war are teeth, 
Which they do eat their yictuals wiih," 

Indeed wairiors are^ in one respect, much 
worse thwi the carnivorous beasts of tl\e 
wilderness, since these prey on their own 
spceies, while the latter avoid this unnatural 
conduct. * 

Bwt warriors say, that men are as serpens 

whose heads must be bruised. Monarches, 

and nations were indeed emblematized by 

hierogl3rphicai serpents, among the ancient 

Egyptians ; and why not crush their heads, 

according to command? I answer, that the 

tnonarchs being the heads, and their subjects 

the tails of those political serpents, wars, 

instead of bruising the head, bruise the tails, 

by injuring and destroying the lower, Jind 

labouring class of the nation ; while the heads 

are exalted, enriched and celebrated in courts, 

history and song, as if it was an useful and 

great deed worthy of immortal honour, to 

destroy tens of thousands of poor, ignorant, 

and enslaved mortals. - Hence Alexander 

and Buonaparte tind others are termed great, 

while the Thracian robber and a common 

highwayman are consigned to justice, death, 

and ignominy. 

It is glorious to murder a million of our 
fcUow brethren : but infamous to murder a 
husbatid or to rob his house. For that vvhich . 
is excecdingh- great must be sublimely mag- 
nanimous luid dignified ; while a smaller 
crime is little, mean, and pusillanimous. 
Such are the absurtlities attached to the 
tiames of heroes, warriors, murderers, vil- 
lains ; who are, indeed, .honourable, very 
honourable men ! For the honour of Greece, 
sh6 besieged Troy ten years for the sake ol 
the strumpet Helen. ITius iniquity is honour- 
ed by war and garments rolled in blood ; 
^ which come," says the apostle James, 
" from our lusts ;'' from our vicious appe- 
tites and inclinations ; and which ought to 
be mortified, subdued and desiroj^ed. 

True Felicitfj. — A person once obsening 
to an ancient Greek p^osoph^r, that it was 
a great happiness to have what we desire — 
the«age replied, " but is it not a much greater 
happinessto desire nothinghnt wl;i^at vhi'haicrcf 

No. III. 

The soul of Socrates was innocent and 
pious. And, said he, " None who follow 
me, can be improved by my conversation, if 
I am not assisted by the virtue of my dae- 
mon." Though under a popular govern- 
ment, he never concerned himself with the 
affairs of state, excepting once, when drawn 
by lot a senator of the five hundred : because 
says Plato, the divinity which guided him, 
and which he durst not resist, had forbidden 
him to appear in the i>opular assemblies, or 
engage in politics, lest he should fall a sacri- 
fice to the injustice of the go\'emmcnt, and 
his death be of no service. When accused 
of introducing new gods, and of corrupting 
the youth, he twice endeavoured to meditate 
a defence, but hisdjemon dissuaded him, and 
he refrained though death was before him. 
Before his judges, in saying that he seemed 
to hear a divine voice that gave him admoni- 
tions, he proved it was no new god or thing. 
" Does not the P}^hiah priestess at Delphos 
pronounce the oracles with her voice? Again 
he had said a dcemon had discovered to him 
things to come : and was Jie ever found a 
liar? No. Tiie oracle of Delphos pronounced 
me the wisest and justest of all men. And 
is it not a mark of wisdom never to hscvt 
missed a moment since I began to know any 
thing, w ithout employing myself in virtue ? 
Do you know a man who is less a slave to 
the pleasures of the body, lesMnercenary, or 
more disinterested than myself? I have 
never taken presents or desired rewards. Is 
not this to be honest, that I have contented 
myself so well with the little I have, as ne- 
ver to have wished, for what was another's," 
&c. His defence was admirably excellent, 
noble and convincing : ^yet he was condemn- 
ed. Though he might after condemnation, 
have pled an abatement of the punishment, 
he would not. " To choose banishment, im- 

Krisonment, or pecuniary mulcts would, said 
e, be confessing ittyself guUty. Besides, 
I know imprisonment and exile are evils, 
but I do not know diat deatli is good or evil. 
Nature has already condemned me to it, 
from the moment of my birth." A friend 
expressing his sorrow for his being con- 
demned when he was innocent: he pleasant- 
ly answered, ** Wouldst thou then have me 
guilty ? 1 oug)it not to be dejected because 1 
am innocent, or because I am imjustly con- 
demned to a shameful death. For the igno- 
tniny falls not on me but my jitdges*** His 
friends laid a design for his escape : but he 
rtfused them, saying : ** Such escape would 
b6 criminal, because it violated the laws.^' 
He died at 5^0 ; being the first philosopher, 
according to Diogenes, that was sacrificed by 
judges* He advised his friends not to con- 
cern themselves about him, but to take care 
of themselves, and obser\^e his discotirse^. 
That be had nbt written his thoughts on the 
skins of dead bodies, but had engraven them 
on the hearts of living men. 

On his death they fled to Megara till the 
storm wa^s blown over. A great plague fol- 
lowed his death : and was esteemed the 
vengeance 6i God for his mjiist condemna- 

tion. The Athenians bitterly repented, 
and erected a stame and built a temple to 
Socrates ; and his accusers felt their most 
cruel indignation. Melotus, the chief of 
them, was condcmiied to deadi; and die 
others that were banished^ were so hated^ 
shunned and despised, that they killed them- 
selves in despair. 

Extract of a Letter from a Correspondent to 
the Editor. 

A person in affluent circumstances some 
time since, took into his family a voung girl 
as an assistant to his wife in her liousehold 
affairs; A fter a time, his wife was removed 
from him by death, and the young woman 
being instructed in housewifer}', became his 
housekeeper. Finding her to be endowed 
with bright natural abilities, he liberally un- 
dertook to place her out at boarding school, 
and gave her a complete literary education. 
Her improvement it is believed, must have 
exceeded his most sanguine expectation ; he 
has therefore takcfti this engaging and accom- 
plished wonran as a partner*** for life, and 
there is no reason to doubt but he feels him- 
self amply renumerated for all his expendi- 
tures, ^tere. Would it not be wisdom in 
some of our wealthy {bachelors who cannot 
find women of sufHcicifeft accomplishments to 
suit their fimcy, to go and do likewise ? 


rmOM THE rARMfe&'s muskum. 
[Tliosfe wha arc pleased with the bungling bulls of Hl- 
bernia, will And some food for fun in the subsequent 
•* Atyerdishment/' ^nd not less for its being in a 
kind of German attire.] 

Mine Atverdishment, 
Rund avay, or sdolen, or sdrayed, mine 
large plack Horse, apout vourteen oder vif- 
teen hans und six inches hie— -he has been 
got vour plack legs, two pchint, and t^vo pe- 
fore, and he ish plack all over his poty, but 
has been got some vite sfpots pon his pack, 
ven de skin was rub oflF, but I greesed um,^ 
and now de vite spots ish all plack agin— be 
trods, an kanteis, an paces, an sometimes he 
valks — and ven he valks, ail his legs and fe^t 
goes on, von after anoder — ^he has two ears 
pon his head both Aike^ put von ish placker 
dan toder-r— he has two eyes, von ish put out, 
and toder ish pon de side of his head, and 
ven you go toder side he vont sci^ you — ven 
* he eats a cooi||tleal^ he as a pig pcUy — and 
as a long dail vat hangs down pehind, but I 
cut it short toder day, and, now tish not so 
long vat it vas-^he ish shodd all round, but 
his pehind shoes comed off, and now he ish 
only gbt shoes ppfore, he holts up his head^ 
and looks gaily, and ven he ish been frighten, 
he gumps apout like every ting in de vorld— 
he vil ride mit a satde, or a chare, or a kart, 
or vil go by himself vitout nopody but a pag 
on his pack vid a poy on it— he ish not very 
old, and his head ven he valks or runs goes 
pefore, and his dail stays pehind, only ven 
he turns round, gets mat, and den his dail 
sometimes comes first.— Whoever vill pring 
him pack shall pay five tollars reward, and if 
he prin^ pack de tief vat stole em, he shall 
bay pesides dwenty tollars, and ax no ques- 
tion^* SxAinCKBa FONPEillbfiKPRi:. 

Digitized by 





V No. IX- 

I have been informed by several medical 
gendemen of eminenc^on whose judgment 
and veracity I can place the most perfect 
'reliance, that they have found strong as- 
tringent ciders to produce nearly the same 
effects in cases of putrid fever, as port wine. 
l*he tanning principle which abounds m both 
liquors, and is not found in the Peruvian 
bark, is probably the agent, and this iii ciders, 
might by a proper choice of fruits be increas- 
ed to almost any extent. 

The directions contained in the preceding 
numbers will, I hope, be able to guide the 
inexperienced planter in the choice of proper 
kinds of fruit, the manner of planting to 
advantage, and in the manufacture of his 
cider: and I have no doubt but that by 
attending closely to those directions, he will 
be able to raise good orchards and to make 
good ciders in almost every soil, and in al- 
most every district. 

' yNiNG cidAs. 

It is seldom that any finmg is wanted for 
good cider. When it is, isinglass is the best. 
It is composed of innumerable fibres, which 
being dispersed over the liquor, attach them- 
selves jto and carrv df^^n its impurities. *or 
this purpose it shomd be reduced to small 
fi-agments by being pounded in a mortar, and 
afterwards steeped twelve or fourteen hours 
in a quantity of liquor sufficient to produce 
its greatest degree of expansion. In this 
state it must be mixed with a few 'gallons of 
the liquor, and stirred till it is diffused and 
suspended in it ; and it is then to be poured 
into the cask, and incorporated with the 
whole by continued agitation for the space 
of two hours. This process does not require 
more than one and an half or two ounces of 
isinglass for a cask of 1 10 gallons. Were 
the operation of isinglass purely mechanical, 
there could be no o^ection to the use of a 
larger quantity ; but it has also a chemical 
action on the liquor. It combines with and^ 
carries down the tanning principle, and hence 
during the prpceits of fining, the Uquor loses 
a large portion of its astringency. 

Isinglass is more easily di JFused in liquors 
by being boiled ; but by this it is dissolved, 
and its organization, on which its powers of 
fining in tome mtastire depl^d, is totally 
destroyed. The excessive bill|^tness it pro-' 
duces IS agreeable ta the eye, but the liquAr 
lias' always appeared to me to become more 
thin atid acid oy hs operatiqA. 


No. ir. 


Written in tUfferent yeart^ 

Meanwhile since life uncertain flows, 
So stained with follies, dinnined with wo<» ' 
Come Fall * let us together share 
The pleasures of the evening air. 
Conne, tell me here thy journey's tale, 
,$ince last I met thee in the vale ; 
Since then thou must have travelled far 
Upon thy wind-borne «ry cai^^ 
O'er briny ocean's tfmple ^pdj 


And o'er the moantaln's cloud-capt head ; 
O'er lands where cultivation yields 
Abundance from her fruitful fields i 
Where huts and spacious domes arise 
To shield poor mortals from the skies v 
Where rich men revel in their wealth, 
And famine tempts the poor to stealth ; 
O'er burning tracts where tyge^ roam. 
And man, can scarcely claim a. home i 
Where secret deaths in ambush lie, 
That dread not man's imposing eye ; 
And o'er the regions of the poles 
Where frost eternal empire holds ; 
O'er scenes of peace and scents of war. 
Thou must indeed have traveli'd far. — 
Then come and let me hear thy tale. 
While gently blows the evening gale, 
While yet a siory^ may avail 
To soothe a sad conflicting heaft* 

In all thy travels hast thou found 
A little spot well guarded round. 
With rocks which man nor beast can scale. 
Whose tops the lowering clouds assail { 
Whose walls inclose a verdant mead. 
On which a harmless flock may feed^ 
Whose woods aflord an ample shade. 
And •* walks by lo>wing cattle made;*' 
Whose streams a store of fish supply^ 
And whose productive trees defy 
The menaces of want ? 

If such a spot thou e'er hast iound, 
O claim* for me the happy ground; 
There set me down secure from harms^ 
And bring my Emma to my arms ; 
There let me know this.'world no mor^» 
But with my love His name adore. 
Who made this earth with all its ill. 
Some gracious purpose to fulfil ; 
But has not deigned to mortal eyes 
T' unfold the secret of the skies. 
There let ns pMs our fleeting days 
In harmless pleasure, love, and praise ; 
And when life's little round is o*er, 
Arid al| its bubbles are no more, 
There let us in one grave be laid. 
Autumn ! by thy mild genii mad<c ? 
And let the flocks that graze the p\aiB, 
Ne'er with unconscious step profane 
The humble sod.— 

No. III. 


Pernicious, cruel, is the slanderous tongbe. 
Which subs like an assassin, in the dark| 
Unguarded, unsuspicious innocence. 
The breath of slander is pestiferous air. 
That sweeps its thousands to the tomb of hate* 
Its vapour ri^es from putrescent hearts r 
Dead to all good, they're sinks and sewers of vice. 

The unruly tongue has set the world on firCi 
And hell itself has set oo fire that tongue. 
Europe is wrapt in conflagrating war« 
While far across the sea Fredonia smok'd. 

O mighty Truth, the sword by courage worn. 
Arise and dissipate the nations' night. 
Disarm the cowards of their slanderous weapon ; 
Cowards are those, who serve their sinful lusts ; 
Their Justs are beasts of carnage, which devour 
The good within, and good political. 

, . As when a cloud o'er Abyssinian wilds 
Appears increasing in its solemn size. 
That darkens the horizon ; veils the globe 
In listening awe ; while corruscations dai% • 
Their forky thunderbolts, and distant roar. 
Which soon draw nearer, with tremendous peals, 
That seem to rend the elements asunder i 
Illuminating the nocturnal gloom.-^ 
The upper flood spouts torrents from above- 
Earth tremblea: dowo the lofty mountalo's sides^ 

They seek the vallies ; gullies carry brooks i 
The brooks are ri? ers ; rivers swell to seas ; 
And deluges the plains. Ruin stalks below ; 
Men. dwellings, herds, and harvests swept at once 
Away into the sea. — So men on men 
Their cruel lusu discharge, with blacker rage 
And heavier desolatioiu Cannons blaze 
And thunder ; awful scene ! the lowering hosts 
Approach, some hundred thousands, front to fronc. 
And tens of thousands press the earth in death. 
Cities in flames, the countries robb'd, destroy'ds 
And millions mourn, and feel the dreadful loss. 

War, war, sweeps millions with the broom €^ 
Empires o'ertums, the sciences destroys. 
Depopulates, and barbarizes man. 
And sinks ^im deep in the abyss of sin. 
Man murders man, through avarice, lust, and prid^ 
Hurls fury, death, and robery on himself. 
In his insane pursuit of wealth unjust. 
To souk humane and good, war's horrible. 
And worse by far, than earthquakes 5c volcanoes^ 
The sweeping plague and every epidemic. 
Oh ! why then man add war to natural evils I 
But evil only can arise from sin. 
And evils natural have a different source. 
Seek truth, shun slander, war, and every itist. 


Tlie Bible is the Book of GOD, 
Which he alone could pen. 
Which does detect the inward thoughts» 
The secret lusts of men. 

This is undoubtedly the distinguishing^ 
character of the sacred volume, and to which 
none else have the least pretension. Tlie 
Saviour of mankind in addressing his follow- 
ers always appealed to the conscience, and 
reached conviction to the heart. It is by 
this inward monitor that ^^ God searchem 
Jerusalem as with a lighted candle.'* The 
woman with whom -Jesus conversed at tlie 
well of Samaria said, ^^ Come see a man who 
told me all (hings^that ever I did.'* And 
when the woman taken in adultery was 
brought before him, he said, " He that is 
without sin let him first cast a stone at her/^ 

There is nothing^ so important to the good 
understanding oi the scriptures, as to attend 
to the word under which the Supreme Being 
is sj)oken of. God signifies the Creator. 
Lora refers both to his supremacy and his 
being without beginning of years or end of 
time, and hence it is in the French Bible 
translated the " Eternal One." JEHO- 
VAH signifies the self-existent Being, a 
character which alone appertains to the 

It is also highly illustrative of the various 
subjects treated of to attend to the titles of 
the chapters. For instance, the Ixxxixtli 
Psalm is entitled " Maschil^^ * a song by 
Etham the Ezrathite.' This Hebrew word 
signifies *' instruction,** and as Etham was 
the leader of the Israelitish band, it woul4 
seem to intimate to us that this instruction 
was the burden of all their sacred songs. 
The Psalm commences, ** I will sing of the 
mprcies of tfee Lord for ever.'* 

Mons. Rolliu, a Roman Catholic writer, 
has the •following sublime introduction to 
sacred history in his BcHcs Lettres : 

Digitized by 




" Profane history relateth exclusivel- to 
temporal events, and is often full of uiter- 
tainty and contradiction. But this is theiis- 
tory of the Supreme Being ; of his goodness, 
justice, and all his other attributes set firth 
under a thousand forms, and display ec by 
abundance of wonderful eflfects. It is the 
oldest book in the world, and the only Due 
wherein God hath shewn us in a clear uid 
certain manner what he is ; what we ire, 
and for what ends he has designed us," 


Mr. Editor, 

Whbk I subscrib'd to this your paper, 

It was to give me by my taper. 

Some aid to keep the fam*d blue vapour 

In modikin). 

It was not Mr. Ed.— now hear ye ! 
To help you give to old maids bleary 
A vehicle to court a deary, 

Odds bodikii'is. 

Last night as by the fire all cheerless 

I sat beside old uncle Peerless, 

MTho since a twelvemonth is quite hearless, 

And tonguc-fasl; 

The tea-things being cleared away, 
And done the labours cf the day, 
I at your paper, as it lay, 

My eye cast. 

Hoping black ennoi to divert, 
I seiz'd it ; when behold a spirt 
Of vilest doggrel from a flirt. 

Called Dinah, ckrl:, 

Assail'd my eyes ; and quite astounded, ' 

I read again the thing. con foivcided ; 

Which shews that Dinah thinks she's txjur.dcf, 

A city spark. 
Now Mr. Editor, Tm certain, 
There's sontethtng more behind the curtain 
Than this said Dinah — an old pert one ! 


Must she — a country thing, be taking 
Such liberty with us, as breaking 
Our city rights ; without once making 
Apologies ? 

Foil well this Dmah Clerk I know ;— 
She*fK»;ring for a certain beau. 
Who after £er stale charms won't go i 

ril warrant. 

For he— fair hempen flower full blown. 
Or shell-bark sweet to hickory grown. 
Ah happy me ! is all my own 

Knight errant. 

Though beauteous, yet his modesty 

Is such, that any one but m^ * 

Would think ht, used me slightingly. 

And lov'd me not. 

I know he is not like a Jack-tar, 

Who grapples you with pikes to make war ; 

And yet, fair bladder-skin ! Vm most far 

J From being forgot. 

What though without a look he passes 
My door. In company with lasses, 
Who even D'mah's form surpasses ? 

What o* that ? 

Tis ntest delicious sympathy 

That jqlns him hand and heart to me ; 

Yet dilfideitt he keeps aloof. B*ye see 

Yoo flat > 

Poor country Dinah! sure 'tis hard 
That you from hope should be debarr*d, 
Bt^, sweet old maid! you're evil starred, 

^ ' Twont do. 

So milk your cows at early rising ; 
And when your foolish love's demising 
Inforfn me; and you*U find a prize in 



I only mean to speak what I do know. 

Mr. Editor, 

I was much surprized to find in your last 
number a person who, pretending to be a v 
Critid, ancl in fact assuming the name of 
one, ventures to deny what one of your cor- 
respondents asserted, merely because it was 
riot adapted to his ideas of credibility. He 
treats the fact mentioned by P. P. as so ab- 
surd, as scarcely to require a denial ; and in 
order to justify his assertions, either wilfully 
mistakes historical facts, or inadvertently 
betrays his ignorance. 

I shall not pretend positively to assert, that 
the townhouse in Ayr was actually in exist- 
ence at the period mentioned by P. P. ; but 
my object is merely to remind Mr. Critic of 
some facts which may have escaped tlirough 
the mouldering sieve of his memor)^-, or to 
inform him of some which may not have 
come within the apparendy contracted hori- 
zon of his historical reading. In the first 
place, Julius Csesar never did invade' Scot- 
laod ; his army never penetrated so far north; 
and Critic therefore has no more reason for 
supposing that P. P. alluded to the invasion 
by Julius Caesar, than to the invasion of Af- 
rica by the Romans. 

The town of Ayr is situated in Scotland, 
and that part of the island of G. Britain was 
reduced under the subjection of the Romans 
by Agricol^ an>5fficcr of the emperor Ves- 

Pray, Mr. Critic, did you eve^ read the 
history of Rome posterior to the time of 
Julius Caesar ? If yott Jiave, you cannot, I 
thmk, but recollect that A. D. 81 2-3, Ag- 
ricola penetrated into Scoriand; that after 
vanquishing the Caledonians, he established 
a chain of forts to form a connection b^tu'cen 
the friths of Clyde and Forth, to repel the 
invasion of the 9ava^»e barbarians who inha- 
bited the northern parts of the island. To the 
southward of this barrier lies the town of Ayr, 
and all the country was under the power of 
the Romans. These facts are mentioned by 
Tacitus in his life of Agricola, and by. Sueto- 
nius in the life of Vespasian, to whpm I refer 
Critic for further information* Perhaps this 
accurate and discerning Critic may alledge, 
that taking what I have said for granted, and 
judging from the facts which I have mention- 
ed» the difficulty is not removed, for still 
this town house must have been in existence 
nearly 1730 years. This, I say, I mean not 
to assert ; I intended to show the futility of 
the grounds from which he reasoned ; I pro- 
fess my ignorance of the feet j but is it to be 
positively denied and treated as ridiculous 
because he thinks it incredible, merely from 
the paucity of his oMrh ideas, the narrow pre- 
cincts of his own information ? Let not the 
unenlightened savage be blamed^ who threat- 
ened die Dutch navigator with death for 
asserting a falsehood when he informed him, 
that in Europe water sometimes obtained 
that degree of consistence as to support the 
weight of a man. Have we not the authority 
of the most ancient of Greek historians, 
Herodotus, that 450 years bcfcre Christ the 

pyramids of Egypt wer€ so ancient, that the 
moat accurate inquiries of ercamining anti- 
quarians were unable to discover how long 
they had then existed ? Do not travellers of 
modem times speak of the remains of massy 
architecture, in situations the most exposed, 
the deration of which have been authenti- 
cally proved to have been prolonged beyond 
2000 years ? 

Critic has also attempted with similar suc- 
cess to turn the poignancy of his wit and 
sarcasm, upon your venerable correspondent 
Imhartu His erudite remarks upon the men- 
tion made of his grandmother, which is the 
butt at which he aims his penetrating wea- 
pons, are founded in error, and supported 
by ignorance. Were Mr. Critic to read the 
essays of Imham, he would perceive a clue 
to lead him through this mazy labyrinth. 
Were he to recollect die initial number of the 
Recorder, his difficulties would be solved ; 
his mental eye would be enabled to perceive 
the truth through the mbts with which it is 
at present enveloped. 

If I remember riglit, Imh:*fn expressly 
mentions that he has correspondents in every 
quarter of the globe, whose sentiments and 
opinions he purposes to make public. The 
style of Imham himself appears to me that of 
an aged man, something similar to that of 
the persons among whom he received his 
educatioiu How then is it possible that any 
man who did not read merely with a view to 
find something upon which to: exercise his 
critical talents, woiUd have failed to perceive 
what is so extremely obvious. 



The other day as I was very composedly 
sitting in my study, with my legs crossed, 
and arms folded, reflecting upon the proba- 
ble success of the Rural Visiter, my frit-ni 
Christopher stepped in, who had very unex- 
pectedly called to pay me a visits As I knew 
him to be a friend. Jo literature, and of a stu- 
dious disposition, I could not but receive 
him with a v/elcome with wliich every per- 
son receives another, wlio is heaitily glad to 
see him.. Chriitophc r saw. that I held in my 
hand one of the numbers of the Rural Visit- 
er, and as he is always fond of talking about 
new things, lie quickly asked me, what I 
thought of the Burlington Magazine ? '' I 
dont know,*' said I, feelinpj myself taken ra- 
ther at a non plus, " I think it's about as good 
as one might exptct, in a country where eve- 
ry body is absprScd in business." " Well, I 
think' so too,'* said my friend, " and I think 
the Editor deserves credit, for his heroic 
attempt. 1 wish hinx every possible success 
in improving the public taste, and* in dissem- 
inating the seeds of virtue, of literature, eco- 
nomy, and industry, which are the bulwarks 
of a commonwealth. Is it not remarkable, 
continued he, that many who we would ex- 
pect to patronise things of this nature, should 
speak of it with indifference, merely because 
it is not a neu^spaper. Do they always u ish 
their heads heated with the broils of politics, 
and is nothing agreeable to them but to hear 
of the victory of one party, and the mortifica- 

Digitized by 




tion of another ?'* '^In a country,", said i, 
" where the wealth of but few young men, is 
so great as to supersede the necessity of dieir 
entering into business, we need not expect 
such papers to receive the encouragement 
they do in Europe, where many of them are 
supported by men of the most ext.^nsive 
learning and abilities, whose only business is 
to write for them." "True, replied my 
friend, but .we have many young men, who 
might frequeaily write an essaA' for the Ru- 
ral Visiter, without encroaching much upon 
their time, which is now almost exclusively 
devoted to the acquisition of weakh, and the 
enjoyment of pleasures, different from those 
of a literary nature*" " And exercise in 
writing would be inunensely useful to them." 
" Certainly it would. Without practice no 
one is perfect ; and with- practice, every one 
improves. It would therefore be very much 
to their benefit to exercise themaelvcs in this 
way, as they will readily acknowledge, that 
to be able to wrifean essay easily, and ele- 
gantly, is no trifling attainment. Bull am 
far from wishing cy&ry brother rustic to leave 
his plough, and snatch up his pen, and dash 
away at a IncubratioTiy before he is, quahfied 
for tlie undertaking. In order to entertain, 
we must not only have ideas, but we must 
also possess the faculty of arranging them, 
and expressing them with dignity and pro- 
priet}-. Of course, it is necessary carefuBy 
to peruse authors who teach us these things, 
before we attempt to teach others, things 
which m^y be good in themselves, but which 
we know not how to express w ith graceful- 
ness. Now I hope the Editor will be just 
in his determinations, with respect to the in- 
sertion of pieces, and give us the best only. 
We want, not only to be amused, but also to 
have onr tastes improved — and bad compo- 
sitioti, can never do this. Now here is the ' 

• Poor Pilgi'im* in this nufnber, (drawing the 
twelfth out of his pocket,) why if he had eon- 
tented himself with M'riting plain prose, he 
miglit possibly have diverted us — ^but alack ! 
alack ! what shall I say of his poetry ?" " Aye, 
sure enough, said I, the * sacred nine' have 
certainly been invoked in vain, if invoked at ; 
all, for even with the help of my specs I can 
find no signs of inspiration there. Poor 
Pilgrim's object in writii|g appears to be ve- 
ry good, but he ought to remember, that for * 
certain reasons, every line that contains ten 
syllables is not a line of ^etrj^/» « No, says 
Stophel, and I hope the author in question 
will favoii/ us with but few more ef his 
strains, before he improves his poetical talent ^ 
by reading some of our EngliA classics, and, 
IJlair's lectures. And now for some of the- 

Though I. was not displeased with the 

* broad hint' to the ' writer of the Critical 
Masquerade,' yet I cannot help looking in 
every succeeding number for some more of 
its authoi's * dreams.' And I hope, conti- 
nued he, tliat jMonitor's essays, promised by 
the Editor, will be found more connected, 
than the one written during a fever. Moni- 
tor's conclusion puts me in mind of an old 
j5choolmaster, who being almost afraid to re- 
prove his scholars in a direct way^ gave them 
a lecture on matted and motion of half an 

houi 's length, Smd at the conclusion toki them 
his principal object in speaking to them, was 
to tell them he did not like so much noise ! 
And there's Erasmus too, continued my 
friend, who had now got into a high strain 
of criticism, in his animadversion on the Re- 
corder's acceptation of a line of Pope's, he 
has run himsdf completely aground. He 
has considered the line in question without 
reference to those with which it is connected, 
or else he would not only liave discovered 
Pope's meaning, but also have found it to be 
happily expressed. Speaking of the veil 
which a kmd Providence has extended to 
conceal from man the page of future events, 
he proceeds : — 

•* What funm bliss, he gives not tbec to know. 
But gives that hope to be thy blessing nmst 
Hope springs eternal in the human breast, 
Man <ie%'er h bm always to be blest. 
The soul uneasy and confin'd from home, 
Rests and expatiates m a life to come." 

Meaning as I conceive, that to whatever 
height of enjoyment man may mtain, he 
thinks that he is srtilhiot blesty but in conse- 
quence of that ' hope* which 

*' springs eternal in the huoian breast," 

looks forward to a state of bliss superior to 
that which he now enjoys — a state m which 
he nvill be blest. It is a natural consequence 
of his soul's being placed so much below that 
for which it was created. I think Erasmus 
deserves no credit for writing sur les choses, 
qu'iJ ne comp rend pas. In his talieof the 

* Early attachment' but Iwbnt tell you 

what he s^id of that ; for not knowing that I 
myself was Erasmus, he spoke his ^ind, 
mentioning faults which it is not my iiUerest 
to divulge^ and beauties which my ixmdesty 
would deter me from shelving. After he 
had finished his strictures on firasniM, he 
asked me if the Recorder, who had treated 
us with so many good dishes> deserved the 
slap in page fifty-five ? I Xold him I thought 
the small picture of naan in the Recorder's 
eighth number rather gloomy, and there 
could be no harm in telling him of it. fiut 
when the author of the ' slap* in question 
talks ab^ut * hearts,* that * drink with rap- ' 
ture the lioelodious vibrations of ti^e chords 
offriend^p,* I may frankly acknowledge, 
I cannot disoover what he means, nor con- 
ceive what property the heart could possibly 
possess, that would' enable it to * drink* * me- 
lodious vibrations.* Here Christopher call- 
ed for a segar, and our strictures were 

Reflecting upon our conversation, after ray 
friend had gone, I detenattied to commit it 
to writing, and send it to the Editor of the 
paper which we had made so free with, giving 
uim leave to print or light his pipe with it, 
just as he shall deemonost expedient. 



Ho^r very generally interesting has chem- 
istry become of late years. There is scaixely 
a study, a profession, or amusement, but is 
intimately connected with, and iUustrnted 
by, the leading principles of dus science. It 

is a urteresting to th^ fanner as to the phy- 
sicnii to the cook, as to the hat-maker or 
cali:o printer. The £H«ner learns by it how 
to nanure bis gi*ouBd> and burden it widi 
the proper rotation of crops. The riciiest 
soil may require the strongest manore, as 
acii is the basts of all vegetables i if tbe soil 
be composed of decayed leaves, he must 
ap^y lime, to correct the o^^er-acidity and 
to convert it into a neutral salt. If the ground 
be inpregnated with saline qualities, I^ must 
appy decayed vegetables, to restore it to 
the equilibrium, favoin^le to the growth of 
his wheat or com. 

The Bramins, it is -well known, eat no 
aninal food ; but tfieir weakly state of body, 
prores that vegetables are not good to live 
on entirely ; besides, the humsui intestines 
difler from those of oi!her animals chiefly in 
thii, that they are calculated for tlie diges- 
tioi of both animal and vegetable food ^. and 
disease or weakness follow where one only is 
usel, or even the healthful proponion of 
then neglected. Before this was knowts, 
maiy sailors by feeding on salt beef during 
long voyages, died of the scurvy ; and other 
diseases arising from the want of fresh vege- 
tabfes. We are now however blessed with 
the knowledge of the basis of vegetables, and 
by 4ie moderate use of acids, our sailors are 
pro^f against these calamities. 

It is a veiv remarkable iact, that animals, 
in X state of nature, never suflfer from the 
baneful effects of what are reckoned lua- 
heahhy dimaites, md ti>e circumatance is not 
unworthy of our investieation. 

At the approach of the sickly season, aH 
the wild ammals of the forest and £6ld go 
in quest of salty which they cat greedily for 
daySk Successively ; and it has the effect of 
rendering them ^krightfy, kealdiAil jod 
strong. Nattu^ has given an atbnndant strp- 
ply of saline matter betwixt the tropics- in 
Asia, Africa, and America, asif kmifly pro- 
vident for the health of the animals of ftiose 
regions, if^luch would otherwise suffer mate- 
^rially during the hot months of, summer. 
Our enlightened physicians have not over- 
looked the circumstance, strangers are now 
ordered on approaching these climates, to 
drink a solution of salts or sea water, that 
their constitutions ^nay attain that greater 
portion of the saline principle, which ts es- 
sential to health in hotter atmospheres^ 

It is a favourite modem hypothesis, that 
there are no such things 8s poisons in ^^xi^rt- 
ence ; or rather that the std^stances -com- 
monly reckoned suchv^TCi valuable medicines 
when taken in propfer qiiantity, imd under 
certain ch-cumstanccs. Doctor Kelly of 
Edinburgh, a few years ago put his lady 
under a regular course of arsenic, to cure 
her of a di^eadful rheumatism, wbicli had 
liailedthe power of mercury, and iiad dra^Ti 
up her nerves so that her hands and. feet 
appeared deformed. Many (>eople shook 
their heads at the Doctor s administering 
arsenic to his wife ; but he snoQoeded, asid 
Mrs. Kdly was in a short time- \i<ell and 
hearty. Tne strength of arsenic on the hu- 
man constitution is such, that die ^oiigans of 
sense undei^ a sensible change ;- so that it 
is Common for the patient after u^ing it, to 

Digitized by _^ 



have a distaste for wiiat he used to be fond 
of, and vice versa. • May there not also 
be some danger of losing die afftctions of 
oumvives, if we try such experiiuents with 
them ? 

Petro Petrovitch. 


Occasioned bij a walk in a Church Tard. 


Tbe soleifiii Stillness of this pensive scene, 
The rolling river, and the grave-dad green ; 
The setting sun, who sheds the parting beam. 
With fainter radiance, o*^ the silver sareani ; 
The hmnblc stones which point the dewy bed. 
Where peaceful sleep shall bless each aching head; 
The Gothic pile whose Mlbspitable door 
First woo'd religion to the savage shore— 
Allt all, conspire to soothe the softened breast, 
And ho&h each care, and earth-born wish to rest, 
f he SDgry storms which swell life's sea, decay. 
And each' rude wave of passion sinks away. 
Less and less high o'ertlows the beating tide, 
Till calm at length life's shifting currents glide, 
Nor one rough breeze o'er the smooth surface blows. 
And Heaven reflected in the bosoin glowt. 
Within the sacred dome and peaceful bower, 
Truth and Religion gain their native power • 
They shew our hopes and fears uiulress'd by art, 
And pour that fuH conviction cm the heart, 
*• Here pride, ambition, come," they seem to say, 
*• Come look your linlc vanities away : 
Behold the pomps how vain, the cares how k>w. 
For which you -Heaven and all its jo>'s forego; 
-Should e,en success your wildest wish attend. 
Here must your gloiies faifte, your triumphs end : 
In the lone graveare now those h«nds confin'd 
Which held despotic sway o^er half mankind: 
Nay, could you reign the lords of all below. 
And universal empire, deck the browt 
Yet the untutored savage of the wild. 
On whom the sun of knowledge never smiPd, 
Who yet by nature led, some power adores, 
Felt though unseen, and his kind aid ini^jloies ; 
Who faitfhful to Heaves's diet A<es in i«is 1>reasty 
With kind compassion succours the distrest, 
Poraues the chace amid the gloomy wood, 
To bless his little fan>ily with ifood. 
And bids his board with homely plenty sndle. 
To cheer the stranger fainting with his toil; 
In reason's eye demands more real fame 
Than alHhy <tecds, ambition ! e*er can claim: 
Sf^eet peace of mind shall blessphis hours of vest. 
While conscious guilt shall reacn thj tortared breast ; 
ills soul amid death's pangs shall smile serene, 
While nnurder'd thousands haunt thy dying scene : 
The tear of grateful love shall wet his clay. 
While curses blight the ground where conquerors lay ; 
And angels waft him tp the realms of light. 
While jtiad ambition sinks to endless night. 
Alas ! since passions such as these engage 
The Various actors on life's troubled stage. 
While anger, guilt, and strife the heart deforoi, 
And ^ach black passion swells the dieadful storm ; 
While love's soft power enslaves the greatest minds. 
And the fond sod in strongest fetters binds ; 
While baleful gold too oft these bands destroy, 
And blast the fairest promises of joy ; 
From the mad^ne, Amanda, lei us fly 
And here secluded live, secluded die. • 
The world shaUiiold us hert with weakened ties. 
And our loos'd souls shall with new ardour rise : « 
Devbtiop then wirii stronger win^ shall soar. 
And earth-bom thoughts shall clog its flight no more. 
Bot^haric ! a note from Heaven's own choir I hear. 
Sounds more than mortal catch my raptur'd car i^ 
Or is it of iEolia's trembling strings 
FaniTd by some listening angel's sUver wings? 
Ah ! no, it speaks—** My sisters, though unseen, 
1 long have watched you on tliis pensive green ; 
Once, lik0 yourselves, 1 trod the vale ot life, 
Eng^jg'd'hi all the hucr/^ care, and strife; 
Conaemn'd for sixty tedious years to go 
A painfiil jouniey through this vale of woe : 
TiU Heaven in mercy sigii'd the wi&h'd release. 
And bade death's angel ope the gates of peace; 
ConsigaM my body to the peaceful .grave. 

And my freed soul to yon blesi regions gave. 

Yet think uot Heaven shall e'er its joys bestow 

On those who meanly here its toils forego. 

Let not such dreams delude your youthtul hearts, 

You in the world must take your proper parts ; 

Must tread with dignity this varied scene, 

And keep your souls unstain'd, your hearts serene. 

Go chace each selhsh passion from your breasts. 

Each wisli that on your pleasure only rests. 

Extend your social love till \t shall bind 

In its delightful chain all human kind. 

Go and exert you softest, sweetest powers. 

To gladden with delight a parent's hours ; 

By every tender office, go improve 

The pleasant ties of fond paternal love : 

Go watch the sick bed of some tender friend. 

Your kind assistance to misfortune lend ; 

Go wlj>e from misery's eye the silent tear, 

The wandering stranger with your bounty cheer; 

Or should your humble fortune this deny, 

Cofidemu*4l to see tlie wants you can't supply. 

Yet still each tender act of love remains. 

To soothe their sorrows and relieve their pains : 

For yet the tear of pity can bestow 

A buJm ungracious bounty does not know. 

Go then your round, your duties then fulHl, 

And >ield your hearts to your Creator's Will : 

Then shall you know that peace which can't decay, 

Which nought on earth can give or lake away : 

To you thac truest music shall belong. 

Far sweeter than the rapmr'd seraph's song ; 

That sense of joy by Heaven's own touch imprest, 

'i'he silent approbaciou of the breast. 

Or should misfortune's cloud o'ercast the scene, 
Deform the smiling sky and glad serene- 
Should all you love from your sad breast be torn, 
And you be left o'er the sad scene to mourn ; 
Yet virtue, ever to her votaries true. 
Shall sprinkle o'er your wotuids a heavenly dew ; 
And send the cherub hope to light your way 
To tnobc blest regions of eternal day, 
Where peace and love forever glad the shore, 
And bleeding friendship meets to part no more. 
And whin at length the solemn hour shall come 
Ordaiu'd by fate to give you to the tomft». 
Kind angels shall your dying hour attend, 
Atid sister spirits o'er your heads shall bend ; 
Their choicest songs yiuir trembling soul shall clieer, 
Disperse death's horrors, and the prospect clear : 
Their baiii^ breath shall bear your cares sway, 
i'Ueir w\pgs shall waft you to the realms of day. 
Where yon the full celestial choir shall join, 
lu hymns of rapturous joy and love divine." 

It burst ill ait-'^the silver sounds dteca^^^ 
Sink Qu the breeze — and die at last away. 



. *' All things are hush*d,'Jas Nature's scjUTlay dead, 
Tlie niouotains seem to nod their drowsy head ; 
The little birds in drtams their songft repeat. 
And sleeping flowers beneath the night dew sweat." 

••♦ DaYDEN. 

How often have I heard the morning de- 
scribtM by the poet and the philosopher in 
all its glowing colours, and just reproaches 
hurled against those who lose its cheering 
influence and fascinating beauties in the arms 
of the soipni&c deity ! That man is extolled 
as wise, who retires to rest with the setting^ 
and arises with the orient^un. But night, 
with all her glories, is neglected ; and it 
should seem as if -heaven had displayed the 
most awful, mftjestic, and brilliant part 
of the creation as unworthy the praise or 
contemplation of 'man. The objects which 
now surround jne, and the sensations which 
I enjoy, are sufficient to convince me, 
that -^evcry portion of the stupendous work 
has its peculiiur charms; and particularly 
night, for sublimity and diversity of objects, 
itftbrds food for the mind, best calculated to 
impress it with just ideas of the Omnipotent, 


and displays nature in a dress by no means 
inferior to that of day ; so that in my opi- 
nion, the man who regularly rises and retires 
with the sun, loses some of die fairest por- 
tion of his time, and most interesting beauties 
of the creation. 

Floxvers of Literature^ 


afforded but vague conjc|c;Jures, and the pjTa- 
mids imparted a humifiating lesson to the 
candidate for imniortalit}' — :— Alas ! alas ! 
said I to myself, l^ow mutable are the foun- 
dations on which our proudest hopes of 
future fame are reposed. He who imagines 
he has secured to himself the mccdoi death- 
less renown, indulges in deluding visions, 
which only bespeak the vanity of the dream- 
er. The storied obelisk — the triumphal arch 
— the swelling dome, shaH crumble into dust, 
and the names they would preserve firom 
oblivion, shall often pass away, before dieir 
own duration is accomplished." 



BV Delia's lips, of rosy hue ; 
■ By Delia's eyes of melting-blue i 
I've vowed ^o be forever true. 

And I will ne'er deceive thee i*— 

But lest my vows, in years, decay. 
Or with thy roses inelt away. 
And Delia rue the fatal day 

I taught her to believe me ^- 

By thy pale cheek's retbing dye, 
By thy lov*d bosom's latest sigh. 
By the last tear-drop of thine eye, 
.Be thus my vows e:^tended. 

Nor till that long, etemai day. 
When death bids all my hopes decay,. 
Or tears me from thine arms away, 
These holy vows be ended. 

H. W. 

FOR THB auaaL visiT«a, 

Oiji seeing a wretched fiddler stoned through the streets 
by a rabble of boys* 

Lo ! on the earth, old Orpheus, from the skies ! 
Wild rings >his harp, aqgl scopes tumoliuous rise. 


Digitized by 


■ ".4 1 m 



No. I. 


The great importation of fpirhuous 
liquors from the Weft-India iflands, 
and giving Id barter therefor large 
quantities of the hard earned produce 
of our farms, may juftly be confidered 
a departure from found policy, as well 
as from Chriftian rectitude* 

The fetting up of ftores and public 
inns in all the fettled parts of the Uni- 
ted States, for retailing thofe liquors, 
has a direct tendency to promote the in- 
temperate ufe of them, among the inha- 
bitants, and to encourage an incrcafmg 
importation, to the greater prejudice of 
the community at large. 

'i'he diililtation of fpirits from grain, 
is a raanifcft perverfion of an article 
defigncd by the great Creator, as the 
.flaiF of life, and the kinds moftly made 
ufe of for this purpofe; being fuch as 
the poorer clafs of mankind ufe for 
their bread, the wafting of it by dif- 
tilling, often makes it fcarce, enhances 
the price, and is an oppreflion ^ the 

I'he diftillation of cyder, made from 
early fallen apples, muy appear at firft 
view, to be the nioft innocent method 
of obtaining ardent fpirits, yet when we 
take -a view of the fad effects refulting 
from making thofe fpirits plentiful and 
of low price, and within the reach of all 
that incline to partake of them, we fhall 
perceive that the pernicious effects of 
intemperance, may be promoted in our 
country more by a practice of this kind, 
than by thp ufe of imported fpirits, 
which are of a higher price, and not fo 
cafily obtained ; and it ni?iy be ren>ark- 
ed, that where thofe fpirits are diftilled, 
retailed, or made ufe of without reftraint, 
children as well as others, by frequent 
tq/ling^ become fo habituated to the ufe 
of them, that they have not ftrength to 
make a (land againfl intemperance, and 
thus render tbemfelves unfit for beiag« 
ufeful members of religious and civil fo- 
cicy ; and many are the forrowful in- 
ftances we have around us, where heads 
of families become fo depraved by the in- 
temperate ufe of ftrong drink, as to make 
themfelves miferable, and bring poverty 
and diftrefs on their innocent wives and 

We are in fome feafons favoured with 
an abundant quantity of fruit ; and as 
the whole confumption of it by ourfclves 
in the making of cyder, and in other 
^Tiilar ufcs, may not be dcfirable, it 

would be an act of charity and benefi- 
cence to invite our poor neighbours to 
partake with us in the abundant bounty 
of providence, in this particular. They 
might be encouraged to preferve fome 
of the fruits by drying,* as dried apples, 
(and peaches, where they grow in plen- 
ty,) are acceptable and ufeful in length- 
ening out the provifions of the poor, and 
others. It would, moreover, be wif- 
dom to turn our attention to making ex- 
cellent cyder^ an art very improvable in 
many parts, and which would redound 
to the emohiment of the manufacturer, 
as well as be promotive of habits of 
greater temperance in the community. 
A profitable deftination of early fallen 
fruit would alfo be the making of vine^ 
gar; it being an article of ufe for home 
confumption, as well as one ufed in voy- 
ages at fca ; and a profpcct is now open- 
ing, of a demand for an increafed quanti- 
ty of vinegar, for the manufacturing of 
leads, heretofore imported from Europe 
for jiainting. 

* Stove rooms are recommended for the purpose of 
preserving fruit by drying, where they caii conveni- 
ently be ]\j,d, 

A subscriber takes the liberty to ask for an 
explanation to the first part of a piece of 
poetry in the Tth number signed V. begin- 
ning widi these lines : 

" There is an hour on which ike ^n 
Has never shed his ray direct." 

As it 18 not entirely understood, thongh 
much admired, breathing a latiguage of ce- 
lestial fire : it is hoped the author will point- 
edly attend to it. ^ 



It Was the opinion of t^ best informed merchants 
at Havre de Grace, on the 5'.h of September, that ve- 
ry little or no change would be inade in the regula- 
tions hitherto observed resjieciing American com- 
merce, until some assurance had been obtained from 
the United States, of its intentions, in case England 
refused to withdraw her orders in council, and re- 
nonnce her principles of blockade. 

Letters* had been received in England, stating, that 
the French had determined to reth* from befr»re Cadiz. 

A decree published by Bonaparte on the 28th of 
August, mentions, that if any vessel shall enter the 
ports of France, with passengers on board that have 
last come from England, such vessel shall be subject 
to seizure and con^scatipn, as wrell as any cargo she 
may convey. 

By accounts from the Baltic it appears that Dant- 
zic was occupied by the French troops, and seven row 
boat privateers were fitting out from that port to 
cruise against the British sbipph^g. 

The ship Sally, Scott, sailed from Bayonnc for 
Bourdeaux about the middle of September, to lake on 
board gen. Armstrong, who had It ft Paris. 

A shoal of about 500 whales (report says) were lately 
driven on the island of Ronsay, in Orkney, by the 
boats belonging to the place; many of the^se %v hales 
measored from 25 to SO feet.« 

The coloration of the city of Dublin, the corpora^ 
tion of stationers, the surgeon barbers, the merchant 
taylors, the hosiers, the parishes of St. Andrew's and 
St. Nicholas have already entered into resolutions 
expressive of the necessity that exists for a rejjeal of 
the act of legislative union, and in reprobation of Mr* 
Foster's window tax. 


We understand that oak. wood, in New- York, bear* 
the astonishing price of eleven dollars a cord— higher 
than it h«s ever before been known at tlus season of 
the year. 

In a late advertisement of «« hardware imported 
from Birmingham," we observe among many other 
things—" a quantity of vices." Should any of our 
bloods be nut aground^ they can now receive a fresh 

Married— At Philadelphia, on Tuesday the 30ih 
ult. by the Rt. Rev. BUbop Wbiu, Mr. EUU aari, 
merchant of that ciiy, to Miss JSiixubttJb Lyoih^ of 
Mount Holly, N. J. 

At Chesnut Farm, New -Jersey, on ITiursday even- 
ing, the 25th ult. by the Rev. Tbtrma* Grants Mr» 
Stacy B. BUpbain^ merchant of Philadelphia, to Miss 
Ami W. KrvfboM, daughter of Mr- Barzillab Neviboli 
of ehesterEcld, N. J. 

Died— On the 4th inst. suddenly, in llamptcn. 
Commodore Samuel Barron^ of the United States nm^ 
vy, and late commander of a squadron iu ihe Modite ^ 


CicVt Sbuttittg Door speculations, and his Fab/e qfebe^ 
Bees are received, and shall appear in course. We 
regret we have not room for then? this week. 

Grizzo, A. B.'s Oriental Tale, G't^ramlation^zti^ 
several others shall also meet due honour. 

The Editor thanks H, W. for his polite leitcr; he 
feels gratified in having a correspondent who enter- 
tains such liberal sentiments. 


NoTicB is hereby given that the subscribers, insol*^ 
vent debtors, confined within the limits of the prisoi\ 
of the County of Burlington on Execations "for debts, 
have applied to the Judges of thc^Court of Common 
Pleas of said County, to be discharged^fromconfine- 
ment according to the law s of New -Jersey, passed for 
the relief of persons imprisoned fcr debt ; and that 
the said Judges have appointed ten o'clock in the fore- 
noon of Saturday, the fifteenth day of December nexr^ 
at the Court House an Mount-Holly in the .iSounI/' 
aforesaid, to hear what can be allcdged for and against 
tlieir hberation. 

Burlington Prison, Nov. 6ih, 1810. 

A*a Beck, 
yoiuuban Mintfy, 
Cbariet ffohne, 
Divoid Tayi^ 
7'b<yma9 Harrit^ 
Edward Kelly t 

WilUam Dobblnat 
Matbav Obej'ori, 
ytrmes Cbamherlain, 
Aaron A/. Freematt, 
^ubn Sevtere. 


No. 45, Areb Street^ Pbiladelplia. 

Informs his frietids and the public, tliat he hasr 
received by the Caledonia, from Londotn several bales, 
comprising a handsome asscrtn ent a£ Superfine and 
Common Cloths, single and double mUled Cifsimeres, 
immediately from the house of San.ue*^ Woods*; and 
will therefore be able to furnish his customers on'rea- 
sonabie terms ; He has also on hand a reat assort- 
ment ^f Waistcoaiing, Woden and Cotton Cords, 
Moleskins, Superfine Coatings, manufactured purpose- 
ly for Cbaks, &c. All of which he tjfitrs'for salt, by' 
the piece, yard, or garment. 

Having provided a number of workmen, he will be 
enabled to supply his customers at a short notice, 

10 mo. 31, 

Published Weekly^ btj D. Allvuon^ 


Price two Dollars sixty -t1^o Cents for Vcluiyic JIikt, 
payable semi-w^r^'4^ty^i^vance^ 

Digitized by 

o Vvcnis lor vouujic irw 
ouilV^i advance. T 



^'Homo awn ; hmani nihii a me aHmum puto.^^^Man and his cares tome a man^ are dear. 

YOh. I. 


No. 17. 

No. XVL 

Venim ubi :|ilim nitent in ctrmifie, fion «go paoci* 
Offendar mkculb, /quu ant incurta ftttUt, 
Aut hamana paimin cavU natunu 


P^MfECTicw belongs not to man. Tho$ 
characters which arc devated above thet* 
compeers bysuperior excellence, have alwa> 
aome ioaperfection and weakness which b«- 
te-ays dicir being bat men. We regard thest 
blemishes as evidences of the imperfectia 
of human nature, as what must necessariV 
belong to hummity, and a candid perso 
will ever be more prone to ipity than to ceif 
sure. But when we perceive Aose whot 
nature has gifted wiith superior endowments 
upon whom she has showered her choices 
blessings with a liberal hand ; who are po3 
tessed of intellectual powers, that would en 
able them hjAwt attentiem and proper exer 
tions, to becoBie ^ronspicoous for their talent' 
and -their victnes^ ' wh» Tro-acc-aotrtt persof^ 
descend to actions unbecoming of them, anc 
their characters debased and diminished ir 
worth and importance, by some foible, whicV 
might with facility be removed, and no long- 
er suiTered to tarnish their bnghtescutcheon ; 
our indignation is justly excited, and we can- 
not easily forgive. Superior natural qualifi- 
cations entitle us to expect superiority in ¥ir 
tue. Every man has duties to perform oom- 
mensurate with his powers ; the more^levd- 
ted his situation, the wider is tlw field which 
is opened ; and the expectations of mankind 
are proporticmably raised. The same pecu- 
liarity of character, or iikpropriety of con-| 
duct which would ht pardonable in a common 
person, and passed over without animadver- 
sion or censure, is regarded as important 
in one who should be superior. His virtues 
like the rubbish left by the stream on its 
banks, inform us bow high his elevation has 
once been, and force a comparison between 
them and his defects. 

Unmia is a young lady of my acquaint- 
ance, who is gifted by nature with every 
qualification both of the head and the heart 
to win and preserve esteem : her undorstand- 
inj^- though too much neglected, is of an 
order superior to the generality of her sex; 
her face is not what may be called beautiful, 
but at tiinfs is improved .by an eKpresftion, 
whioti renders it infinitely more charming 
and captivating than many of the first rate 
beauties ; her countenance whtn she is ani- 
mated in conversation beams with expres- 
sion, >and her eyes sparkle with inteilipence ; 
her heart is warm, affectionate and virtuous, 

ihtjr taste thougli like her mind not much 
improved, 1^ generally correct ; she is totally 
..... • 

void of art and affectation ; nature and can- 
dour are in her bosom, and her tongue obeys 
their dictates. Yet still Urania is not a per- 
fect character. She sometimes mars, and 
for a time obliterates the remembrance of all 
her good qualities hy a childish peevishness, 
which renders her disagreeable to others and 
to herself. At sudi times ** trifles light 
as air** are treated with acrimony and aspe- 
rity, the little attentions of her friends re- 
ceived with almost rudeness, and that face 
which, when iHuminated by good nature and 
cheerfulness, excited pleasure and inspired all 
around her, presents a gloomy and harsh ap- 
pearance ; frowns settle on the brow where 
smiles are accustomed to play, and illnature 
is displayed in that face where virtue and 
sense might at ordinary times, perceive the 
brightest image of themselves. 'Fhis peevish- 
ness of disposition which is so considerable 
a drawback unon jih^- charact<*r jirui -appear- 
ance of this young lady, might without much 
difficulty be overcome. Those who are de- 
sirous of shining for their personal charms, 
should contend against any tdiing which bears 
the faintest resemblance to peevishness; 
those who are desirous of pleasing others by 
the sweetness of their manners, should banish 
it, for nothing excites greater disgust. Those 
who are m search of happiness should never 
admit it within their breasts ; for happiness 
can never ex]«t in that bosom where peevish- 
ness is an inmate. All should resist it from 
motives of duty. 

WhHe upon this subject permit me to 
offer a few brief obsei-vations upon the man- 
ners and characters of the young females of 
the present day. I offer my sentiments wldi 
freedom, because I believe them to be cor- 
rect ; with solicitude, since I am anxious that 
they should receive attention. 

The females now are as remarkable for 
personal attractions and charms as they ever 
were, and on this point every genennion \ 
appears to stand on the same footing with j 
their predecessors. In the accomplishments ^ 
of the mind they are perhaps equal ; but this 
is not sufficient. Yoimg women now pos- 
sess advantages much superior to whilt fe- 
males formerly did ; their education is con- 
sidered as of importance, and attention and ' 
^ains are bestowed upon it. These superior ' 
advants^s should meet with suitable exer 
tions ; else they ai^e totally unavailing. Their ; 
duty to themselves and to those with whom 
Ihey are connected in the various relations 
of life, demands that they should not ne- 
jleet these opportunities ; their duty to 
iieir God requires it ; for as they have re- 
leived talents, a proper cultivation of them 
annotbe omitted without incurring crimi- 
nlit}' ; thftir interest, and in fact every mo- 

tive which can impel to exertion or animate 
to industry*, imperiously demands itl But 
young women too generally intoxicated by 
the incense of flattery, and blinded by the 
compliments of frivolous young meny reaC 
their claims to the admiration of the othei* 
sex upon their external appearance and per^ 
sonal charms. Occupied in making thes^ 
appear to advantage, they frequendy neglect 
the cultivation of those qualities which can 
alone recommend tliem to men of sense. 
These are considered as unworthy ^eir 
attention. This proceedi) principally from 
a natmal inactive temperament of- disposi- 
tion increased by habitual indolence ; and an 
entirely misconceived opinion of tl^ir own 
characters* . Xhis inertness of disposition 
naturally belongs to both sexes ; in men it is 
generally overcome, in women strengdiened 
by education. The various occupations of 
men, the ciHfferent scenes in which they may 
bepkced, the unforeseen diffictdties by which 
th«y may be encompassed, all ctswpire to 
rouse their minds to action ; the same mo- 
tives do not operate with equal force upon 
women; necessity not obliging them, no 
other incentive exists sufficiently strong to 
induce them to cultivate with much assiduity 
the powers of their minds. 

The ideas which women entertain of their 
own characters, are iu my opinion not un- 
frequently erroneous.- Each individual as- 
serts the honour of her sex, and maintains 
their equality with men ; but at the same 
time appears to regard their b'.vn individual 
abilities with no favourable eye. I may say 
with Sterne, that I have a more exalted 
opinion of women, than they themselves 
generally have ; I mean of their intellects, 
for as to the attractions of person ^d frivo- 
lous accomplishments, they by no means 
assume less than they merit. The young 
lady wh©m I before mentioned is a striking 
instance of this want of self knowledge. 
She ever expresses a humble opinion of her- 
self , and rates her understanding much lower 
than it deserves. She can perceive die shin- 
ing qujdities of others, and admires and 
praisQS th«n ; but yet appears absolutely 
blind to her owil. This may be natural, or 
it may be dissimuladon. If it is feigned, 
it is a fJafl imitation of modesty ; it strikes a 
stranger as if she were desirous of bein^ 
compiiXicnted, though persons who are ac- 
quainted with her beUeve her sincere. True 
humility of disposition belongs not to an 
egotist^ it displays itself rather by actions 
than by words. It will ever prevent any thing 
like pertinacity or obstinacy in opinion, but 
will submit with diffidence its ideas and 
doubts merelv as suggestions. It seeks to 
remain unnoticed, raiher/fHln^o attract at- 
Digitized by V^O^^ 



tention. Modesty and reserve are charming 
and amiable qualities in youth of both sexes ; 
to render a young woman admired and es- 
teemed, they are indispensibly esssential. 
Nothing is more disagreeable and disgusting 
than impertinent effrontery, or brazen for- 
wardness ; they evince a weakness of under- 
standing and will inevitably subject the pos- 
sessor tcvnerited contempt and ridicule. But 
let not the nature of modesty be misunder- 
stood ; let not young women in aiming at 
this amkble quality, be deluded hy a false 
light to an entirely different object. They 
should also remember, that when they advo- 

<t cate the cause of their own sex, an,d maintain 
its mental equality with the other, they as 

' individuals arc. called upon to make greater 
exertions. Is it not a reproach to them diat 
with understandings of such comprehension, 
they should permit them to remain in a state 
of uncultivationr^ and languishing tlirougli 
want of nourishment ? Their conversations 
should be more becoming rational creatures, 
nor should we find "in them assertion where 
we looked for reasoning, nor denial when 
we expect argument. The reputation of their 
sex cannot be properly raised or maintained 
in this way ; facts ever speak more power- 
fully than words; and until women show 
that they in general have made some ad- 
vancement in learning ; until we see them 
as generally capable of reasoning as men, 
assertions unaccompanied even by single 
facts and evidences, will merit and, reoci*^ 
kut little regard. 



b om to vex th« state. 


I CANNOT but congratulate you, Mr. Edi- 
tor, on the general interest, which your paper 
has excited, and the general employment 
which it seems to g^ve to the community at 
large to scribble. Imham and I are in con- 
sequence relieved from a most shocking 
quandary that*has been for some weeks afRict- 
ing us like a man in a phlethora. The cause 
of all this xvaa that we went the other day to 
court, and while certain of our renowned 
orators were engaged in a ^ery knotty 
cause — ^letting Mitnesses go ^d cdling them 
back agwi, as Imhatn said he u%ed to do 
when he was a little boy with horse flies (Hy- 
ing a string round their middle, he would let 
them fly at arm's length and then fetch *em 
up again : — I say meanwhile we sauntered 
off* to the paper mill and saw such immense 
hay stacks of rags and paper, that the house, 
icapacious as it is,, could, scarcely contain 
them. We had previously remarked the 
great importatron of goose •quill* into the 
county capital ; and our old p«ricsanes re- 
ceived not a little scratching and sacking to 
iind a vent for all this super-redundancy 
of literary weapons. Desperd / said I, the 
Genius of rags and geese has combined with 
Jack Snow-storm to destroy us under a com- 
jilicated heap of litter-aiiy substances. Why 
you don't call snow a literary substance ? 
s:ud Imham. Yes but I do, rejoined I — 
whereas it littcrsy dnd takes an amazing wide 

range too. This is a putiy brother Imham— 
an original pun, which I got from my friend 
Diana Griskin, who had it from her friend 
Miss Transfix, who borrowed it from their 
friends die faniily of the Dobells, who made 
it, they say, and declare it to be a good, 
whacking pun, that any body may smell at 
without turning up his nose. At diis mo- 
ment who should we stumble on but Will 
Coke, who declared it to be a good oncy that 
contained the true matter and motion of 
Burlington fun, and he meant with our per- 
mission to give it a place in the Rjural 

Will can see as far into a millstone as com- 
mon people, and on the strength of it we told 
him the cause of our uneasiness. Whugh ! 
said Will, with a most miraculously con- 
temptuous toss up of the labials : He then 
began feeling about in his mouth for expres- 
sions. Imham whispered to me that " after 
thunder comes rain,'' and we were silently 
expecting the shower. But Will is a strange 
fellow, he always makes his words perform 
an evolution in the form of a corkscrew- 
winding them round and round his tongue 
so as to taste. them on all sides before he lets 
them pass. At length he began: ** I'm 
astonished that such old ones as you can see 
no further than the end of your noses. Why 
don't you know that old Nilus has come 

OVCJ'-l*^'"* ?_JMUiia,_i-ka*. aic^^j^I OVCrflOW all 

the people in Egypt, and who was so bravely 
driven from the shores of the Mediterranean 

by Gen. E n, has come over here to be 

revenged ; and finding the banks of our rivers 
rather too elevated, he means to inundate us 
with literature. It's a kind of general mis- 
fortune that I Uke, and I wish niy uncle Dr. 
Johnson was but here to enjoy it. 

Do you see what a trio there is formed 
in the metropolis to " lash the rascals naked 
round the world'* that happen to be so unfor- 
tunate as to make a blunder? There's Critic, 
Examiner, and last, though not least, Eras- 
mus, who are dashing away with the quill, 
and under pretence of correcting the evil, 
are only aiding the tide to rise still higher. 
They are a Cerberus— a dog with three 
heads ; but the middle head contains jdl the 
savoir. They are three bulls in a team ; 
but the oft horse is an ox, and more than all, 
he has the true bubble and squeak of an Erin 
bom. " Hold, hold, said Imham, Erasmus 
is my particular friend ; he has spoken well 
of me, or at least he has not spoken ill. I 
conceive Erasmus is really a critic — a hyper 
critic — ^a very pretty, decent, genteel critic. 
He has given Monitor and Poor Pilgrim k 
xvipr that I hope will not only cleanse theni^ 
but the Rural Visiter also. To be sure I 
think it rather hard that Poor Pilgrim can- 
not have his heart's content of lisping in 
numbers, for I take it he was born a poet. 
One would -suppose he would excite a fellow 
feeling in Erasmus, for I am told at diree 
months old he himself was like Mjmheer 
Grimniski in the play, who could say never 
a word unless he was suffered to vapour 
away in tetrasticks to the tune of Yankee 
Doodle. I dare say that Erasmus has read 
the history of Martinus Scr&lenis — a di- 
gression on criticism in ^^ The tak of a tub^' 

and Blair's Lectutvs. At any rate he has^ 
hada glimpse of the BeUes JLettres, or how 
couj he be so familiarly acquainted with the 
rulcjthat's considered as the acm6 of all true 
critpism. " Hew down all cpntemporary 
conbositions, and afterward, should any one 
dis^ver you to be iti the wrong, reconsider 
thetnatter and set them up again." He has 
eviiently followed this in his critique on the 
liniin Pope, which like a tornado at a poor 
Crple, he whirl'd off its legs though it did 
round the trunk of an old tree.'' " And 
restore poor Cid," said Will, " to his 
irry mansion in the skies," when he 
cknes to look into Lindley Murray's Gram- 
r u* ; as that's probably the most handy, 
a d finds there's such a thing as figure of 
seech, or Dr. Johnson's Dictionary, and 
s< :s the meaning oi drink is not only to swal- 
1( r, but to absorb— to receive-— to take in — 
t( hear. N'ow Erasmus would have had no 
o jection to the expression of " two hearts 
t ing in or receiving the vibrations of the 
c >rds," &c. And if" to receive vibrations,'*' 
ba proper phrase, and to receive mc^ai t^- 
atnky ergo, to drink vibrations is a sound, 

!ist beef and plumb pudding expression. 
It I suspect Erasmus is of a very arid dis- 
sition hke his great prototype Looney; 
ad that when ever drink is spoken of he 
links of guzzling. Indeed I shrewdly 
giess, added Will, that Erasmus must at 
Ae time have passed from ufords to things 
tod'was a litde" ** A litde what ?" re- 

l^itMMil ImVi^m q^verply- " Why, a Htdc ' 

lothing," replied Will, scampering away^ 
\atera desunt. Q^, 


Mr. Editor, 

The severe frost which happened on the 
lights of the 1st and 2d of November haa 
iestroyed much fine fruit intended for late 
:ider. There is probably some only paiti- 
illy injured, and much solicitude has been 
elt as to the means of disposing of it to the 
>est advanta|;e. The following extract from 
Marshall's view of the management of or- 
:hards in Herefordshire, may throw some 
iig^t on the subject. 

" Some of the later ripe fruits, however 
will hang on until they are in danger of being 
caught in the frosts ; which if severe and 
lasting^ injure it materially for the purpose 
of liquor. In the great fruitage of 1784, a 
very considerable part of the best fruits were 
in a manner lost by the frosts. With respect 
to injury by frost however, something may 
/ depend on the nature of the fruit. Weak 
watery fruit receives probably the most in- 
jury. There is an instance related of liquor 
of the ver)' first quality being made from 
golden pippins after they had been frozen as 
hard as ice." 

A Fahmer. 

A Village is like that subterraneous 
cave, called the Ear of Dionysius ; nothing 
passes in it, or near it, but it is instantly 
Inown. /^"^ ^T 

Digitized by V^OOv IC 





In early tim(;s before the christian sacrifice 
had taken from evil spirits their power to 
hurt mankind, a matron of the East, follow- 
ed by two fair daughters, went to the shore 
of the tempestuous sea to supplicate the fal)led 
Neptune—** Thou powerful god ! who swal- 
lowedst up the father, spare the son — Lo ! 
I submit* The widow stands resigned ; but 
hear the mother"— Her bare knees pressed 
the rock — she bowed before the wave that 
roared against it — and as she prayed, she 
payed the angry deity the tribute of her tears- 
The sea had robbed her of her lord, but 
piety had taught her resignation. She kissed 
the beach again and was departing, when 
there appeared upon the rising wave erect 
and unconcerned, a human figure ; the habit 
spoke her female: age sat upon her brow, 
but free from all infirmities, she commanded 
only reverence ; her dry feet floated on the 
water's surface ; her silver hair played ne- 
gligently in the storm ; her hand was on her 
heart, her eyes on Heaven» The daughters 
shrieked — ^the parent knew the form as it 
approached, and bending to the earthy hailed ' 
the Erytbrean Sibyl. 

She waved her hand, and the sea ceased 
its tumult, ** Amia," said she, " thy viitue 
has reached heaven— —danger is near! — 
Cfitldren^'remembery the virtue of a daughter 
is obedience, the brig' ,*st jewel in a virgin's 
crown, is modesty^s-i^^he vanished — ^the 
sea resumed its roaring, and the bro^d sun 
was now half sunk beneath the billows. 

No moon could light them homeward ; 
the sea-storm brought its thunder to the land, 
and as they stood behind a ruined tower for 
shelter from its fury, they heard the mutter- 
ed sounds of midnrght rites and horrid in- 
cantations—a gleam of lightning showed at 
once the place. Within an ample circle sur- 
rounded by dark t^ass, the works of fancied 
fairies, stood a decrepit creature busied in 
his infernal sacrifices : nine times he walked 
about the fatal circle, and each blade black- 
ened where his f^il foot came : in the midst 
he raised a pile of mouldering coffins and of 
broken gibbets, and covered it with the heart 
of an old oak, just rent by thunder. Upon 
the heap he laid a human body warm from 
its sepulchre, and with a blue flame which 
his bre.ith raised from the ground, he lighted 
the strange heap. 

Till then the ceremonies were seen but 
im»^ ;rfcctlv', as the interrupted flashings from * 
*' clouds gave opportunity ; now all was 
.^dent— the infernal ceremony shone with ■ 
its own light ; and as the flame advanced, 
the bagged wizard walkjed his round repeat- 
ing secret prayers. 

The flames distinctly showed the body 
they were to consume ; a youth of perfect 
beaut)-, who seemed only to sleep amidst the 
fire. At length it reached him, and they 
saw him bum by slow degrees to ashes ; 
then with a dreadful shriek the sorcerer 
leaped into the fire — a thick spioke arose 
darker than night, and spread itself abroad 
till it filled all the circle. 
After a while it cleared, jmd frota^thc 

glowing embers of the fire, there rose again 
the youth who had been burnt. Deep music 
issued from the circlets verge, and to its so- 
lemn notes the figure slowly ascended. The 
unwrinkled forehead and the rosy cheeks, 
the lips of coral, and the golden hsdr, rose 
from the shapeless ashes in full beauty. 
They turned— for modesty reftiscd their see- 
ing more ; but in a little time the music ceas- 
ed, and die new bom youth came up and 
stood before them, with an easy grace, cloth- 
ed in an azure robe, studded with silver 
stars. The mother trembled 5 for the Sibyl^s 
warning still mng in her affrighted ears. 
The daughters, young and inexperienced, 
stood charmed with the youth's beauty. He 
told them he was Jove j he wooed them to 
his arms, and added, they should walk the 
Enmyrean heaven. 

The mother, bold in the Sibyl's sacred 
lesson, charged him with imposture ; but 
the girls were still in raptures. A cloudy 
chariot raised them from the earthi and as 
they rodb along the air they thought they 
had reached the very height the flatterer 
promised. They listened to his soothing 
words. The pensive mother frowned. She 
told them poets feigned, for gods were holy. 
The favour of the Sibyl gave her courage, 
and her maternal love inspired a sacred elo- 
quence they doubted as she spoke. 

At length the elder was convinced. She 
joined her parent in her arguments, but in- 
considerate youth betrayed the other. This 
told them " power was power, and splendour 
Sjplenaeur : that he who could thus waft them 
through the air, had all the mieht of Jove ; 
and there could be no heaven if it were not 
their present residence." 

(To be concluded in our next.) 

V. TO L. 

The hour alluded to in the piece signed 
V. in No. 7, is evidendy (from the sequel) 
before sunrise and xvhi/e the stars are yet 
visible. It is also plain no direct rays of the 
sun will then be perceived. And a slight 
acquaintance with astronomy will sufl^ce to 
show« that the JisH moon cannot at that hour 
appear in the east. 

If the foregoing does not elucidate the 
part to which L. alludes, he will please to 
define the difficulty, as the expression ** first 
part" is rather vague. V^^ 



B7 the ship Radius, capt. Miller, from Corunna, 
wc are infomved that on the 27th September, a severe 
battle was fought at Almeida, between the French, and 
the English and Portuguese armies, which lasted two 
days without intermission. -The combined army, 
commanded by < Lord Wellmg^on, was victorious j 
the French under Massena, were completely routed, 
leaving behind in killed and prisoners, 14 thousand 
men ; the loss of Wellington was comparatively 
small. A most atrocious conspiracy has lately been 
detected at Lisbon; wherein the French and their 
adherents, contemplated privately to assassinate all 
who were supposed to be attached to the British Inte* 
rest.— It is reported a general embargo has been laid in 
all thq.portffof Denmark ^od Prut&ia^— Lucien Buon«* 

parte >irith his suite has arrived at Malta, and it is re* 
ported he is on his way to the United States. He 
possesses property to a very large ainoant. 

Letters received from Amsterdam and Rotterdam 
state, that die Dutch will be placed by Bonaparte in 
the situation of the Papal territories, subject to the 
laws of France, but not identified with the empire. 

MvNCO Pare. — Lord Moira received a letter en 
the 27th of September last, from Mr. James G Jack- 
son, assuring him that he had received authentic infor- 
mation from Mogadore, that Mr. Park was seen about 
the month of March last, eight days journey, or 120 
miles east of Timbuctoo. 

An experiment of a new kind was tried last cum? 
mer, at Philipsthal, in East Prussia Thjs was to split 
a rock by means of lightning. An iron rod, similar to 
a conductor, was fixed in the rock, and on the occui' 
rence of the first thunder storm, the lightning was 
conducted down the rod, and split it into several pieces 
without displacing it. 


We understand that Mr. Warden, the American 
Consul General, has returned'from France in the Hor- 
net, and that Gen. Armstrong was to sail from Bour- 
deaux on the sd of October. 

A Proclamation was issued by the President on the 
2d inst. announcing that in consequence of the revoca- 
tion of the edicts of France which violated our neutral 
commerce, the restrictions imposed by the act of Isc 
May last, accordingly cease in relation to France ; and 
that if G. Britain shall not on the 2d February next 
have revoked or modified her edicts in like manner, 
the testrictions as regards her shall again be revived ; 
information thereof jhas been foiwarded to the collec- 
tors of customs throilghout the United States. 

£. Randolph Esq. 0/ Richmond, has issued propo- 
sals for publishing a history of Virginia from the first 
settlement of ihc colony to, perhaps, the year 1800. 

A letter from New-Brunswick, N. J. says, we arc 
all in confusion here, the town being completely inun- 
dated with water, and the inhabitants passing from 
bouse to bouse in boats. Three houses have Boated 
down the river, and the numett>us fragments evince 
great havoc in the neighbourhood. 


(j^f* The Editor has lately received complaints, that 
some of his subscribers are rot regularly supplied with 
their papers. — He vnshe* tJbem r» o^^ertv^— that it must 
be attributed to meddlesome persons at the places where 
they receive them ; as he is particularly careful to 
forward them to the different places of their destina- 
tion : and has adopted such a method of mailing those 
which go by mail and otherwise, that it is almost im- 
p08sit$)e to omit a single name. 

Ceorge S*s eftusion is in some parts rather too point- 
edly indelicate for insertion— and the piece almgp. 
ther we consider point/eM, We are very sorry to re. 
ject Jlttstic*s second attempt— but he has exdted in us 
considerable interest, and therefore tenderness forbids 
our delivering him over to such a dangerous trio, as^— 
Critic, Elxaminer, and Erasmus. 

yuventut should observe that the Rural Visiter is a 
literaty, not a political paper ; and, though very jiar- 
tial to judicious biojg^raphical sketches, )et the Editor 
would rather not receive eulogiums on atiy particular 

Dinah, havinc; on her first visit excited so much e- 
motion, we think it will be better for her in future to 
stay quietly at home', or go abroad in a new dress. 

We are ywite willing that Leonard Loveslum/fer 
should regtdarly continue "to enjoy himself in a sense- 
less state." 

The Sojourner, 2, IS, and some others, have 
teen unavoidably delayed. 

We tl^nk perhaps it may not be altogether imperti- 
nent in us to venture a Ihtlc advice to the Rural Critics, 
What we would suggest to them is, gumrU against 
oirjkeri^y— let your object be incitement to mutual im- 
p r o 9ement, not the triumph of vanitj .• and 6y all metois 
exercise clfdritjf towards ^our i eaker brethren. 


In the Delaware, on the 15th instant, a copper Still. 
The owner may liave his property, on due proof, and 
by payihg charges, on application to 

Nov. 17 tf BurilngtoQ. 

Digitized by 

GQQgle _^ 



No. IL 

Will a mm ^e all he has to save his 
life ? He wdl : yet he acts the reverse of this 
ia going to war : losing and destroying lives 
for property, or for revenge, or koooor. 
Men murder one another for tided human 
honour ; such as stars, ribhons, garters, &c. 
Surely the wicked are all fools, or xnadmexi, 
which Horace endeavours to prove in the 8d 
satire of Book H. Socrates proves to Alci- 
biades in the 2d Dialogue that goes under 
that name, that the greater part of mankind 
are fools. Seneca asserts the same, and says, 
" insanire omnes stultos dicimus ;" and the 
scriptures of truth -confirm their assertions. 
This being a truth, are not 'all carnal war- 
riors foob, who sacrifice human victims to 
their lusts? If the greater part of mankind 
are fook, and the greater part too, are few 
retaliating and belligerent measures-^^en 
the inference is evident : and therefore they 
can neither be esteemed philosophers, chris- 
tians, or rational beings* But if the premises 
are untrue, the conclusion is so too. 

What! shdl men suffi?r thenraelves to he 
plundered, robbed and enslaved, without de- 
fending themselves^ or risking th^ir lives few 
their rights and liberties? Is not defensive 
war a virtue ? Yes, if it is better and move 
virtuous %o risk our lives than 0\jur property.; 
but if not so, what is die inference? 

Suppose men, through principle, wffl not 
fight so as to risk life for property ; and sop- 
pose they are persecuted, robb«d, and op- 
pressed ; what would be the consequenee of i 
the latter*s appeal to duty andxeason, against i 
the unjust torce of the plundering oppres- | 
sors ? Whv it would,like former persecutions! 
for conscience sake, terminate in favour of 
the oppressed, and bring down ages of in- 
famy on the heads of the oppressors. Ijivery 
good man would remonstrate and reason, 
and oppose in a bold and manly way, such 
outrageous injustice and villainy ; and the 
current of popular opinion, like a river, 
would sweep such t}Tants as stops its course, 
into a fathomless abyss. Opinion is stronger 
than swords and guns, and more puissant 
than t)Tants and heroes. The existence and 
success of the Quakers is an instance of the 
truth of the preceding observations, and it has 
been proverbial, **Tnat the blood of the mar- 
tyrs, is the seed of the church.^ If persecu- 
tion has ever been destructive to its agents. 
Jttid abettors, we may reasonably conclude it 
always will be so. Who therefore should fear 
to adopt the principle of peace? Besides ^U 
this, I am confident nations suffer more from 
murder8,rapes,rapines, fires, and desolations, 
which are the usual concomitants o£ vc^9 
than they would by the injustice ofavaricious 
men. Prove the reverse of this if you can : 
not by windy declamation, which one grain 
of sand will outweigh ; but demonstrate the 
contrary by facts and solid ar^ments. 

Much has been justly said againfjt the 
practice of duelling ; but what is war but a 
duel between two nations? So that, if duel- 
ling is dettf table, war is so too .; and if one 

is a vice, so is the other. One nati(m affronts 
or injures another— ^satisfaction is demanded 
and refused — the challange is given and 
sbccepted: and revenge, slaughter, and ruin 
ensoe. Christian, to whom does vengeance 
beloa|; ? not toman or nations ; ^ For venge- 
anoe is mmr, and I will repay it, 8aitk die 
Xiord." Therefore ray christian brethren, 
*'*' avenge not yourselves.^' But nations and 
Individuals say no t for we will avenge our- 
selves I we zutU svipport our own dignity and 
honour. Tbey talk as if it was dishonour- 
able to receive an injuty when the real dis- 
honour b to do unjusdy. They know not 
what honour is, ana ibo^hly pursue that ©f 
the duellist, in which exist ivise diame, re- 
venge and murder. But no murderer hath 
eternal life. Virtue only is honourable. 
Prove war and duelling to be virtuoos, and 
then I wiU own my error, and acknowledge 
them to be honourable, pious and beneficent, 
and heroes to be good and reverend charac- 
ters. The typical wars of the Jews are 
symbols of the spirkual wars of the chris- 
tians, among whom swords should be beaten 
into ploughshares and spears into pruning 
hooks, and none learn the art of wsu- any 
more ; nor nation lift up sword against na- 
tion. I will conclude with the words of the 
heathen Horace — 

— -*** Qui sceleratosy 
• £t furiosus erit. Quern ceptt vitrea fama 
Hunc cuBQumtanuU {^udens, bellona cruentis-** 

Which is, « He who is wicked will be mad 
and furious , but he who dcsirea human ha^ 
notn-y a thing more brittle than glass, has 
undoubtedly been thundered out oftiis senses 
by that spirit of war that delights in blood 
and destruction.^ — A hint for Buonaparte 
and others. 

ssLmcTSD voa thb bubal visitbb, 


EngraTen on a chamber stove made in the form of ■ 
an mn, and so contrived (by Dr, FrankKn) that the 
Jarne, msteadof aseendii^, descended. 

BY J. ODELL, M. D. D. D. 

Like a Newton sublimely h^«Dar?d^ 

To a summit before unattain'd,; 
New regions of science explor'd, 

And the Palm of philosophy gain'd. 
With a spark that he caught from the skies, 

'He display*d an unparallei'd wonder, 
And we saw with delight and surprise, 
' That his rod couW protect as from thunder. 
Oh had he been wise to pursue. 

The path for his talents design 'd. 
What a tribute of thanks had been due 

To the Father and friend ef mankind. 
But to covet poHtieal fame. 

Was to him a degrading ambition*- 
A spark that from Lucifer came. 

And kindled the flame of seditioih 

Let candour then write <>n his urn, 

•* Here lies the renowned inventor. 
Whose flame to the skies ought to burn, 

But.invertfd descends to the center.^ 


His last great debt is paid-^poof Tom's no 

more ! 
Last debt! — ^Tom never paid a debt before! 


A good wife should be lUce three things, wUch three 
things she should not k>e like. 

Good wives to snails should be akbi^ 
Always their hooses keep witbhi » 
Bar net to carry fashion's knacks. 
All they are worth upon their backs.-*- 

Good wives like echoes still should dOt 
Speak only when they*re spoken to s 
Btt not like echoes (most absurd) 
To have foi«v>er the last word. 

Geod wives, like city clocks, shoukl cbimo 
Be T^^ular, and keep in tkne ; 
But not, like cky docks, aloud 
Be heajid by aU the vulgar crowd. 


TOT sentry dock, from yon old gloomy tower; 
Had tfewlv counted off the midnight hour ; 
Dark black'ning clouds, in awful tumult roird^ 
Athwart the sky, and coming tempests told ; 
The waning moon sunk slowly in the we8t> 
And oatuxe slumber*d in a death-like rest. 

Bewildered Oscar, trembling, and alone» 
Held ^s sad way through paths and lanes unknown i 
The robbers' call was heard in every breese. 
Which shrieked terrific through the leafless ttees; 
Air-coursing elves were plainly heard to howl. 
Their shrill responses to the hooting owL 

The fond idea of his lov'd abode. 
Still urg'd him onward, o'er the dreuy.road. 
Atiencth, obscurdy, through ^the dusky night. 
An old church Steele dimly -met his sight. 
With footsteps light, and breath repre&s'd he trod,. 
Hard by the church-yard pale, his dreary road« 

" Uere Ue," he thought, " within their narrow hcd^ 
Mouldering to native earth the shnKid«dad deadi 
Uere dft^ at this lone hew, the spirits flit 
Around these ^:r|ive8, or on tnese romt»tonea sit." 
Frozen with <fear. he tremblingly, askance 
The scene of horror, cast a transient glance, 

Vkion of tenor 1 soul appaUtng sig^ht l*^ 
A host of entities, array*din white 
Rose from the scattered graves— the dustrfaig crowS" 
Slowly advanc'd«p->affrighted Oscar ^tood 

Nearer they <:ame«-afiTighted Oscar knelt-^ 
But scarce had done it, ere a shock he felt 
Which laid him prostrate -—spirit left his fram«'. 
And ti'er his limbs a clammy dampness came. 
At length— alow waking from the horrid fright. 
And favor'd by the lastfaku gleam of Cynthia's Uglit ? 

He found that the ghosts were a fine flock of sheep, 
Whidi his prematvre wvul'ring had starred from sleep: 
£xacdy sheep like, they tbrong*d towwd him^whea 

In the acme of agony dropp'd on his knee^ 
tOld merino, supposing a challenge was put. 
Drew back and retum'd for't a terrible butr. 



A' swindler of address being asked^ b^ a 
foreigner what naight be the state of leamine 
in fjigland, answered, ** as to the sciences I 
can't speak, as I only study the arts/* • 

A person abusing anodic to Churohiil, 
said, he was so insiiiferably dull that if \'oa 
said a ffood thir^ he did not understand it* — 
** Pmy, sir," ssdd ChurchiH, " did ifm e%^r 
try Mm?'' 




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tw0 Ddlars slxty^two Cents for Vdtimc first, 
payable iemi-annually in advirnee. 

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" Homo sum: humani nihil a me alienum puto.^—Man and his cares tome a matit are dear. 

VOL. I. 


No. 18. 

No. XVII. 

<* Active m indolence, abroad we roam 
In quest of happiness, which dwells at home ; 
With Tain pursuits fatigu'd, at kngth youll find 
No place excludes it from »n equal mind." 

THE season has arrived when amusement 
in a village life rnust be sought for in social 
intercourse, retirement and study. When 
these beauties which in summer deck the 
face of nature and enliven every scene around 
us, are withered by the frosts of autumn. 
For a few months past time seems to have 
been unusually rapid jn its flights. NatuR 
has been uncommonly bountiful of her fruits, 
our society has been iibproved by the com- 
pany of those who have imparted pleasure to 
our circle, and although dissipation has not 
stolen time away, our hours have been en- 
livened by the pleasures of social life. 

Nature is now stript of all her charms, 
and those scenes of pleasure which the sum- 
mer afforded us are past. Such i& the fate 
of human felicity, such the transient flight 
of every pleasure_thatJmmanJife afford*^ 
But the^epnvation of these enjoyments haa 
not left us destitute of others, and ahhough 
secluded from the gay and dissipated scenes 
of life, we have many sources of rational 
enjoyment yet remaining. The season is 
favourable to the enjoyment of those plea- 
sures which social life affords, to study and 
the improvement of the mind; and although 
those scenes which in summer allure us from 
retirement are vanished, cveiy rational plea- 
sure that human life swords is yet at our 

Impressed with these ideas, I cannot but 
condemn the complaints of the dulness and 
stupidity of our society, which we frequently 
hear uttered among us. No sooner has the 
summer passed away with its attendant plea- 
sures and delights, than the dulness of our 
tOMm becomes the subject of general com- 
plaints. We hear many of oiA* youth regret- 
ing the loss of those enjoymentf which in 
summer were afforded them, and anxiously 
wishing for gaiety and amusement to dissi- 

Eate and trine time away. But is it not 
eneath the dignity of our nature to indulge 
dispositions like these ? Every rational mind 
must be sensible, that life has been bestowed 
upon us for better purposes, and that it is 
imw^rthy the dignity of a rational creature 
to waste the fairest portion of its existence 
in dissipation and in tolly, in pleasures which 
please only for Uie moment, which afford no 
foundation for future enjoyment, and are 
often remembered with regret. 

In offering these remarks to his readers, 
the Recorder hopes he shall not be deemed 

illiberal or severe. He condenms not the 
innocent pleasures and enjoyments of life, 
and although the experience of ninety 
summers has taught him the vanity of 
every pleasure that the world affords, and 
he is approaching to the close of life, he 
makes every allowance due to the gaiety 
of youth. He is not unmindful of the san- 
guine disposition which in early life governs 
and impels the mind, and brightens every 
prospect, and that pleasure and amusement 
are a necessary relaxation from the fatigues 
of business and study. But it is certainly 
an imperative duty to be moderate in our 
pursuit of pleasure, that the fairest portion 
of life may not be dissipated. It is me dic- 
tate of reason also to unite pleasure with 
profit, and those amusements which not only 
afford present enjoyment, but enlighten and 
improve the mind and become sources of 
pleasure through life, have a superior daiin 
to our attention. 

If I wrrc xo cuttempt to point out to my . 
readers those pleasures most Trorthy our pur- 
suit, those employments becoming the digni- 
ty of our nature, and which delight the mind, 
I should be deemed arrogant and vain. But 
I may be permitted without the charge of 
vanity, to express an opinion respecting those 
scenes of gaiety and dissipation which in 
winter allure our youA from home ; I may 
with justice pronounce that they are unwor- 
thy tiieir pursuit, and that the pleasures they 
afford are inferior to those which flow from 
retirement and social life. Yet we hear 
many among us, endowed with superior 
minds, and qualified to give pleasure to our 
social circle complaining of the dulness of 
our town. We see them desert those real 
enjoyments which life affords, those superior 
pleasures which flow from retirement and 
study, from social intercourse and the en- 
dearments of domestic life, and resort to 
scenes of noise and folly. 

Let us for a moment reflect npon the 
gaities of life, those amusements which in 
winter attract many of our jrouth from home. 
What pleasure is afforded at a tea party or 
a dance ? The observance of ceremony and 
form, and the noise and bustle of the scene 
destroys every enjoyment of the mind. The 
pleasures which flow from conversation can- 
not be here obtained ; die mind cannot be- 
come engaged, and that ease and freedom 
necessary to the enjoyment of social inter- 
course is interrupted and destroyed. What 
then can allure us to these scenes of folly ? 
To pass a few hours in formal company, 
which truly deserves the name of stupidity, 
or in noisy merriment, is all that is expected 
and all that is received. It would be vain 
however to attempt to persuade the votaries 

of these scenes of dissipation, that they af- 
ford no pleasure or enjoyment. They please 
many for the moment, and serve to dissipate 
time in thoughUess mirth. But enjoyments 
such as these are unworthy our esteem, and 
to consume a whole winter in the pursuit of 
them is beneath the dignity of our nature. 

The business of human Hfe is commensu- 
rate to its duration. Every day brings its 
duties and its cares, and to waste the fairest 
portion of our existence justly deserves re- 
proach. • Let us therefore banish every dis- 
position which allures from the path of duty. 
And since we have at our command every 
rational enjoyment whidi life affords, let us 
not loiter our time away in useless com- 
plaints of its dulness ; but let us return thanks 
to our beneficent Creator for the many 
blessings bestowed upon us. Let us make 
haste to perform the duties incumbent upon 
us, and endeavour to improve the present 
hour ; and when fatigued by the cares and 
business of life, amusement becomes neces- 
sary for us, nothing can be more suital^lc to 
the dignity of our nature tiian those pleasures 
which delight and improve themind; nor- 
thing can confer upon us more real happiness 
than the pleasures of private friendship and 
social life. s. 


The following elegant Eulogium on the 
press is from the oration of DanU Waldo 
Lincoln Esq. delivered at Bt)ston on the 4th 
of July last :— « The Press, (says Mr. Lin- 
coln) is the safeguard of public rights. It is 
die messenger of truth, the herald of science, 
the interpreter of letters, the amanuensis of 
history, and the teacher of futurity. Like 
the sun, it illunimates the gloom of the Goth- 
ic night, irradiates the shade of ignorance, 
and pours a flood of knowledge on the world; 
it dilates the perceptions ot man, extends 
his intellectual vision, inspires his heart with 
sensibility and his mind with thought, and 
endows him with past and present omnis- 
cience. It directs his way to the Pierian 
mount, and discovers to faith the radiant 
path by angels trod to Zion's holy hill.'' 

A few days since there died in a neigh- 
bouring state a valuable Merino : an artful 
fellow obtained possession of the skin, and 
after preparing one of our common sheep for 
the purpose, neady sewed it on, and then 
sold it for fifty dollars. The cheat however, 
was soon discovered, and die ingenious 
maker of Merinos conducted to winter lodg- 
ings free of expense. 

Digitized by 






STAY thne my merry muleteer! 
Here ttop thy weary tread : • 
This blazing hwth presents the cheer 
Of peace with plenty bred. 
No more to-night well track the snow, 
But calmly sleep whilst tempests blqw. 

Then turn we here thy trusty kine,' 

Who safe the goal have won : 
Their weary frames to rest incline ; 
And Sol his course has run. 
For much I know thou joy 'st to see 
Their wants partacke of plenty's glee. 

Ah weU I iudg? thy glowing lieart 

My gentle muleteer ; 
E'en for thy steed withholds a part 
Of joy's>delicious tear* 
Then now. to swelLthy noble soul,. 
Pleasure shallfin a boundless bowU 

Yestreen we pledg'd the flowing Can, 

Ere from thy home we sped : . 
Then throogW our yrandering course we rani 
Whiht day behind us fled. 
Now quaff* we here the generous wine, 
Thy home is far-^but this is mine. 

Sweet muleteer ! thy guileless breast 

Beams like unclouded heaven ; 
And all the gems of virtue's crest 
Nature to thee has given. 
To wealth and birth she nought bestovr^y 
More than thy gentle bosom knows. 

As on the plain we bent our way, 

With cheering, social smile. 
Thy simple tale, and sprightly lay 
Insptr'd my sod the while r 
And lit a ray of beamy l^ove, 
Bright as the ballow'd Joys aboipe. 

What time upon the moiUitainr height . 

We scaVdthe dizzy steep. 
My yielding heart from Bvid fright» 
Thy accents strove to keep. 
With itlayfol imUe the tKstanoe cont'd* 
And told me of my home beyond 

When yesternight, by toil o^nrest. 

As journeying dow I went { 

And on the pannier sunk to rest» 

Th/^arm its safety lent. 

Thou left thy seat and walk'd beside, 

And closely watch'd— -Tiiy body guides 

Impatient for my distant liome» 

I chid the weary road : 
And ere ou^ steps could hidiercome 
Another night forebode. 
You urg'd the flag^g moles along, 
And fann'd' their Ere wMi mountanvsong.-^ 

Haste ye ! faithful partners, haste. 

By the steep your footsteps bending. 
Quickly pass^the weary waste^ 

For the night is fftst ascending. 
Cheer the stranger's pensive Jieavt, 

Oil his distant- home he's thinkrag ; 
In his wishes act your part, 

Sriendship's dewy nectar drinking. 
Haste ye then ; my fellows !^ha9te» 
Pas3 with glee the weary waste, 
And your rootsteps forward bending. 
Gain the goal, for night's ascending. 

They heard, and fast the rugged ground 

Their added spirits spurned ; 
Cheey'd by tlieff speed,^ in thought vrt found 
My happy home returned. 
But yet again the es^le height, 
Caird forth the song with sjnrit light. 

Once again my gentle steed. 
Up the steep ascent you're dimbing. 

Hasten ! gsun the mountain head 
Ere the vesper notes be chiming.- 

On its brow the limpid springs 
And the verdant pasture growings 

Plenteous store to you shall bring. 
On your toil their boon bestowing. 

X.O ! I see the distant spire. 
Hark! I hear the distant lowing; 

Let the^sounds your spirits fire. 
Bright the generous hearth is glowing; 

Thus again my trusty steed. 
Hasten to the mountain head ; 
While its lofty steep we're climbing. 
Hark ! the vesper notes are chiming. 

And now nor plain, nor mountain way, 

Demand thy toil or song. 
While the last gleam of closing day 
Glitters, the hills among. 
With weary steps we've gain'd the goal^ 
And mirth and glee shall glad thy soul. 

Then come my jdcund muleteer. 

Here stay thy weary head ; 
This generous board presents thy cheer, 
And comfoit smooths thy bed. 
No more to-night wo*E breast the snow. 
But snugly sleep while tempests blow. 


No. IIL 


Let us now turn our attention to another 
class of our fellow citizens, some pf whom 
have occasionally volunteered in support of 
those evils which arise from the use ofspirit- 
uous liquors. It must be a serious consid- 
eration to those who reflect on the subject, 
that we are accountable stewards of the mani- 
fold blessings of divine Providence^ and that 
the present year by its abundant friutfiJhess, 
has largely added to the responsibility of the 
receiver. He has filled our ganaries and 
loaded our trees with friiit. The windows 
of heaven have been opened — blessing3 have 
been poured out till there is hardly room 
to contain them ; blessings indeed they 
were designed to be ; but like the other 
gifts of Providence t^y mayl^ i^onv^ted 
into a curse^ becauec tne ^ssing depends 
ujjon tkc right application of them. Jn 
this point of view tiiey become trials of our 
virtue, and the joyful plaudit of ^ WalL 
done'' is annexed to him only who disposes 
of them to the honour of the Giver. But 
how tsia the man who has received from the 
divine hand the abundant fruits of the earth 
— ^fruits desigped for the nourishment and 
support of his creation — how can he expect 
. the welcome sentence of approbation when 
i he is called on to resign his stewardship, if he 
' has been accessary either directly or indirect- 
ly to the perversion of those blessing^ by in- 
creasing an article which the united voices of 
reason and virtue, declare to be a curse to 
I mankinds 

Some farmers who do not send their grain 
and fruit to the distillery, are yet in the 
practice of distributing it to their labourers 
during the time of harvest^ Tliis is a prac- 
tice to which are attached important conse- 
quences. It is now suf&ciendy proved by 
experience, that men in the most laborious 
occupations can endure every species of la- 
bour without spirituous liquors^ and are bet- 
ter without them than others who use them. 
This is 9ifact which many are ready to attest 
who have fairly made the trial ; but it was to 
have been presumed from .this circumstance, 
that the art of distillation was not known to 
the andents,, and that mankind were much 
healthier though exposed to equal fatigue, 
before their introduction ; which did not take 
place in Europe till the Moors of Spain 
brought them mto that country, about the 
yetir 1550 ; and it was not known as a drink 
until long after. It appears perfecdy un- 
reasQuabm to suppose that this burning, 

inflammatoiy and intoxicating liquid, should 
be necessary to the Jbealth of the human sys- 
tem. The knowledge of which was hidden 
from the world for sevetal thousand years 
after the creation, and whose discovery has 
been productive of so much evident mis- 
chief. Custom, tyrant custom may plead its 
continuance ; but shall the gentle voice of 
humanity— the plain dictates of phiknthropv 
be hushed and disregarded ! Shall fliis mighty 
destroyer, reeking in the blood of our feUow 
citizens and loaded with the spoils of domes- 
tic comfort— to whose ear the si^s of the 
widow and the cries of the orphan are melo- 
dy— shall he be fostered by the professed 
followers of Him whose glorious advent was 
announced by the angelic language of peace 
on earthy goodwill to men ? I trust noL It 
is to be hoped that many with a righteous 
magnanimity will stem the torrent of custom 
— will declare themselves on the side of truth 
and humanity, and by worthy example will 
encourage others to come forward and join 
them in espousing a cause dignified in its 
nature, and worthy a candidate for the divine 

But there are some who suppose that thev 
can get more labour done by mdulging their 
hands in the use of spirituous liquors— sup- 
pose this were true, could the trifling differ- 
ence compensate for the evil arising from, 
iheiruse? I believe not And in consider- 
ing this case we must not measure the evil 
by what we see immediately resulting from 
our conduct, we must reflect that every man 
who uses it gives his sanction to the general 
use of it^ he goes as far as he can go in 
perpetttatu»^r---V'xlitr'rv^ Aieokjie 

abus^ of distilled spirits, and must be ac- 
countable for hb share of a// the miserv- 
that Is produced by it to mankind. But 
the virtuous man will prefer his duty to 
gain — ^he will not injure his neighbour to 
serve himself— -^is eyes are opened to take 
a correct view of things— he sees that happi- 
ness is inseparaUy linked to virtue, and that 
his best interests even in this world are pro- 
moted by a faithful discharge of duty to his 
fellow creatures. His views are also en- 
Iwjged, he sees that « honesty is the best 
pcmcy ;'* that Providence generally works to 
disappoint the selfish plwis of men— that 
those, who are prosecuting schemes or in- 
dulging practices inconsistent with universal 
justice, are often permitted to follow their 
own devices and grope in the dark as at 
noon day^ while the good man who is re- 
signed to i?|ake a temporary sacrifice, enjo}3 
the best portion in this life, winds i^ com* 
fortably, and leaves the delightful fragrance 
of a good name behind him. 

Thp importation of spirituous liquors into 
the Uhited States, and the home, distillation 
more ^specially from grain, are well deserv- 
ing lijgislative attention; but while many of 
their number are indifferent to the subject* 
and others are concerned in the trade and in 
distilleries, there is litde ground to hope for 
refon|[iation from this quarter.. 

The different religious denominauons are 
most of them silent in their collective capaci- 
ty ; some of their leading members are acca- 
mulating wealth from the manufiacture or 

Digitized by 




sale of ardent spirits — even their ministers 
are not aU clear ! Where then shall we look 
for rcformarion ? To this question it may be 
replied, Aat die reformation of mankind as 
far as instrumental means can affect it, is to 
be produced by the faithfulness of individu- 
als. The consignee who refuses to be in 
agent for the sale of ardent spirits— the mer- 
chant who refrains from selling it — the re- 
tailer who withdraws from the traffic, and 
die farmer who denies himself the imannary 
profit of allowing his fruit to be distiUed or 
of distributing it to his labourers, because 
they beUeve wat the happiness of mankind 
would be promoted by abandoning the ard- 
cle-— are tullieartng a noble testimony which 
will not fail to produce a happy effect-— an 
effect which will sooner or later be manifest, 
and will certainly be followed by an ample 

No. III. 

Wearied with various discouraging 
views, and my mind in that state of outward- 
ness in which, according to an eminent 
gospel minister of the present day, it is ever 
liable to be ^tempted, tossed and afflicted" — 
I wandered disconsolate along the margin of 
my nadve stream, and viewed the house, the 
gsudens, the fields and. orchards, the seats 
of my early pasdmes, labours and enjoy- 
ments ; and long the inheritance of my femx- 
ly. But I viewed them without any of those 
nameless sensations which^su^h a scene, or 
rad&er such a situation is calculated to eotcite, 
and wjiich I had often experienced on similar 
occasions. I called to mind without emo- 
don, the companions of those days' relations 
which cannot be renewed. I placed before 
my eyes the venerable shades of a fadier and 
a father's fadier; and reflected' with equal 
apathy on the various vicissitudes to which 
the lue and fortune of man is subject. Here 
I met with father and mother, sister and 
brother — ^here my daily w^ntstwere tenderly 
supplied, and sickness itself deprived of its 
terrors — ^now it is a stranger^s— I have iio 
right to set my foot within the gate. I see 
in every department new faces which ^know 
me itotJ^ This is not my father's domesdc, 
die indulgent friend of my childish days« 

There was something hard-— it was the 
sense of guilt which wimstoodthe softening 
power of affliction and recoU^cdon. To 
change the scene, I borrowed an ai^le and 
went down to a long remembered rock to 
fish, regretting that there was so litde happi- 
ness in the lot of man-*that even when he is 
spared the dispensadon of afflicdon from the 
hand of the Almighty, the wrath which he 
himself has treasured up in his bosom against 
the day of wrath^ is ever ready to fill up the 
vacancy. ** O, wretched man diat I am I'^said 
I in the bitterness of my heart, ** who shall 
deliver me from this body of death— the 
thing that I would do I leave undone ; but 
the Ainflr that I would not, that I do.'' Wil- 
Hng at last to cease from cogitations which 
vielded neither instruction nor comfort, and 
fatigued with standing in the same po^culre, 

I stuck my angle in a hole of the rock, and 
lay down to sleep, where my still waking 
imaginadcKi presented me with die following 

I found myself near the foot of a mighty 
mountain, on the south side of which lay a 
wide bay, in which were seen vessels of 
divers sizes sailing in safeQT. The eastern 
side, from which I was separated by a small 
rivulet, presented a wall ofrocks and caverns 
overiiung in places by knots of trees. As I 
sat gazing with admiradon and delight\ipon 
the sublime picture before me, I saw step 
out from a cave midway up the side of the 
mountain, a female form, whose gigandc 
size might have inspired me with terror, had 
not the mildness and benevolence which 
seemed to play upon her beaudful counte- 
nance prepossessed me in her favour. With 
the apparent modesty peculiar to her sex, 
she possessed a dignity which commanded 
respect ; but at the same time, a degree of 
strength that was rather masculine. Had it 
not been for this last quality, I thought I 
could have fallen in love with her; still 
however my admiration was not without a 
mixture of attachment. She had been leaning 
a considerable time against the rock at the 
mouth of the cave, seeming to enjoy the 
prospect of the bay, with the boats and ves- 
sels whose saik were expanded by 'a gende 
gale; when suddeidy the smile departed from 
her face, and her whole frame betrayed 
marks of die agltatiM o£.her mind. 

I had now an ample opportimity oC seeing 
her strength. She took up large pieces of 
rock from the side of the mountain, and cast 
«hciu into the bay, bending the trees in their 
progress like reeds. I was at a loss to 
account for all this tumult, and turning ipy 
eyes, which had hitherto been rivetted to the 
object before me, towards the bay, I observ- 
ed a corresponding confusion in die surface 
of the water. The vessel? had contracted 
their sails, and the terrified mariners were 
using every effort to avoid bemg driven 
ashore by die violence of the storm. The 
land suffered no less violence*— mighty oaks 
were torn, from their roots ; houses,' bams 
and fences overturned, and the inhaJ^itants 
in common with their flocks, were seeking 
shelter m caves and dens. I was looking 
round in hope that some of the fugitives 
might seek refuge in the cave where I lay, 
that I might gain of them some informadon 
respecting the personage before me, when a 
tall elderly man came towards me, and with- 
out betraying any marks of alarm, quiedy 
seated himself beside me. ^' Father,'' said I, 
" can you give me any account of the female 
who inhabits the caves of the mountain V^ 
" Be attendve," said he, ** and thou shalt see 
more." I looked, and saw a feeble old man 
come out of a cave and endeavour to pacify 
die enraged dame. He first used argument 
and then entreat}*, but finding all his endea- 
vours ineffectual, he returned chagrined to 
his cave. 

I continued watching till I saw a majesdc 
figure, middle aged and in the prime of 
strength, descending towards her from the 
top of the mountain. At a distance there 
seemed somethihg very austere in his whole 

appearance ; but as he drew near, my aver* 
sion decreased, smd I began to discover 
attracdons, which I had at first overiooked. 
He spoke to the woman of the mountain, 
and immediately she became calm and sub- 
missive, throwing herself at his feet, 

I was anxious to know the meaning of all 
this, and turned towards my host to enquire : 
" The country before thee,** said he, "is die 
Human Mind. The female thou seeat is 
Nature ; the old man is Philosophy. He 
has been endeavouring by various means 
ever since the flood, to reflate the conduct 
of Nature according to his own mind ; but 
has always faUed. His first method was 
force, but finding her too strong, he pro- 
ceeded to argument ; this abo bemg rejected 
he thought to bind her while she slept; think* 
ing it better to render her whoUy useless, 
than to suffer hertq do mischief. Accord- 
ingly, watchinp; his opportunity, he quiedy 
encircled her limbs with cords, and was be- 
ghining to exult in the certainty of success, 
when happening to move, she felt the pres- 
sure of the cords, and with a slight effort 
disengaged herself. Since diis period, dis- 
couraged with his ill success and declining 
in years, he contents himself with unavailing 
solicitation. The form which thou sawest 
descending from the top of the mountain is 
Christianity. Proceeding from die habitadon 
,of Omnipotence, he speaks with divine 
authority and is obeyed. He commands 
with mildness and benevolence, and b be- 
loved. Under his happy control Nature is 
rendered useful ; her strength and arddur 
are not suppressed, but duly restrained and 
dif^cted to proper objects.** 

I was about to reply, when a surge from 
die rising dde overflowed my feet, and I 
suddenly started from my tumultuous dream, 
to a sense of paihfid realities. 



Bm calm mj soul, nor moqrn this dretdfiil night. 
As thus on whiri wind's wings it flies away t 

But O, be thou serene anudst the fight. 
Of elements that hasten to decay. 

By nature's laws, the tempest oft must roar. 
But nature too will quell that tempest's blast » 

No constant winds shall rack the peasant's doot. 
Nor clouds the sky for ever overcast. 

Then why with dread forebodings, heaves my heart ? 
Then why do big tears stand so in my eye I 

Since rudest whirlwinds shall be mVd to rest« 
And clouds no more o'eroast the changeful sky. 

For luRure's wrath, I would not dare to mourn. 
If nature's wrath were spent on lifeless things ; 

But ah-*the wretch who wanders now foriom, 
Must sorely feel of pain the bitterest stiVigs. 

And round the hearth of yondjcr cot, behq^i. 
The children seated and the parenu too : 

Their fuel's gone, their limbs are numb'd with cq14 
And many a bitter tear their cheeks b^w. 

If now to heaven the old man raise his eye. 
And to his God prefer a humble prayer, 

O gracious heaven, do not that pimyer deny, 
But luH the storm, and dry up evtry tear. 



The temperate zone of moderate fortune 
equally removed from high and low life, 
is most favourable for the permanence c' 

Digitized by 





— — PopvlumqiM fklsis dedocet uti 
Vocibus. HOIACB. 

Sir Humphrey— sbootin^ in tbe dark» 
Makes answer quite beside the mark. 

Thus for, Mr. Editor, I followed Cowper 
in the tratck of mutual forbearance : but, said 
I, the subject is ennuyarU. 1 am a poor 
young girl that has not the opportunity of 
showmg how differently from Sir Hum- 
phrey's lady I should act ; and in this out of 
the 5 way nook of earth— or as an elegant 
writer in jnour paper has termed it— - 

** Pensive pleasure's nook,** 

where there is neither high road nor com- 
merce to attract the gentlemen — where even 
the very air we inhale seems so inimical to 

matrimony ^no one knows if I shall ever 

have an offer. Why then I shall live an old 
maid — ^^ I hope I may die if I do," said I, 

and snatched up your paper Why Mr* 

Editor, did my friend Miss A. B, — ^who by 
the bye appears very fond of throwing off 
petticoats and wearing the whites — pray why 
did she leave off the fable of the insects only 
two words this side of the end ? ** You see mv 
little girl how dangerous it is to meddle witfi 
edfi^e tools," was the finishing of old Imham's 
story. As I had opened the folio of the ve- 
nerable sage to get at these two concluding 
words, I passed on to the succeeding allego- 
ry', which was called "The fable of the Bees.** 
It begins thus : 

<* He gabbles like a goose amid the 8wan4ike choir/' 


"The winter had been left behind quite 
out of sight, and nature was ehantmg^ her 
Paean through the vivifying country of 
spring and leading on her train in a comfort- 
able jog trot toward summer. The genial 
power had reanimated the most minute of 
her creation. Among the rest, a company 
of young honey Bees, whose aged Mres lay 
lifeless from w interns severity had been car- 
ried along the road of Time, unhurt by the 
blast, fearless of the nprtherti wind, and com- 
fortably feeding on the stores which their 
predecessors had prepared them in the 
hive. They had their snug little habitation 
on the banks of a river : and the bolder and 
more hardy insects as they passed, admiring 
its amenity of situation, and the retirement 
of its possessors, would sometimes envious- 
ly, and at others unwittingly say, * What a 
parcel of churls inhabit there !* But these 
knew not the social happiness of this little 
commonwetilth. One of their munber who 
had frequently wsmdered out of the hive and 
shook hi« wings at libertv in the open atr, on 
a certjun day returned from a ramble, and 
thus addressed them ; ^ I have been without 
the precincts of our asylum. Nature has 
brought us mto a country where vernal show- 
ers and inspiring sunbeams breathe nothing 
but benignity. The many coloured foliage 
of vegetation delights my eye. The per- 
fumes of the flower-decked field exhilarate 
my senses. The immensity of the scene 
around me excites my amazement : I soar 
aloft but cannot descry its limits. Every 
where that my eager curiosit}'^ directs my 


sight, I see Bees more daring than ourselves 
flitting among the flowers, extracting their 
sweets, or enriching their stores with honey. 
Let us remain no longer inactive. Let us 
saQy forth. These narrow confines must no 
more limit us. We will gaily wind our 
bugles in a wider range^' 

Re said, and himself led the way. They 
fluttered awhile ir^r novel expansion ; but 
soon, more confident, their wings clove the 
air and rang an agreeable psan of sprightly 
harmony. Their leader however, diough 
enterprising, knew too well his own inability 
to think of conducting his fellows with suc- 
cess through a scene so new to him. He 
therefore looked about him to discover some 
one on whose judgment, information, and 
courage, he might rely : and soon found that 
death had not deprived them of all their 
ancestors. One of them on whose pinions 
' nmety summer suns^ had shone and im- 
parted strength, was chosen as their leader. 
He proceeded cautiously onward— stopped 
sometimes to sip the richness of a sweet 
flower, but passed unnotieed many a gaudy 
garden. In his way, as he wandered smooth- 
ly along, he was joined by several of his old 
coadjutors, who placed themselves in dif- 
ferent stations, and aided him to espy the 
delicacies of the glade. ' Let nothing,* 
said the venerable Bee, ' escape, our atten- 
tion that will increase the store of honey.* 

In this way they were composedly ad- 
vancing and addi»*s ^^ Iheir nches. But 
they did not advance nor gather sweets un- 
noticed # Several of other tribes endeavoured 
whilst they slyly mixed amongst thexn, to 
dissuade some of their numbers from ^y 
toQger following the conmiands of their king. 
They said that mstead of taking them to riot 
in the petals of the lily, he pointed them to 
the leaves of the nightshade. But these 
querulous beings, who were mostly antiqua- 
ted maiden hornets or gallinippers, were soon 
attacked by a superior power. From behind 
the aegis of merry-making Comus, he darted 
at them the shafts of satire and soon sHenced 
their rancorous buzzing ; but much to the 
regret of the community he fell into a dream- 
ing fit from which he promised soon to 
wake, but did not. A lady Bee followed 
him who excited some interest ; for she ap- 
peared wonderfully terrified about the pros- 
perity of the honey-seeking choir. She came 
cracking like a laurel in the flames. Her 
figure was curious — ^like Cynthia with her 
horns full, and a tadpole^s tail depending 
from her lower limbs. She began her exor- 
dium with an tmprimu^ andti)e whole family 
set around her with the hope of receiving a 
good hive of lumey as a bequest in her dying 
moments : But ^e left making wills to solve 
problems— cried out her occupation was 
gone, and retreated into a comer, whither she 
hoped to be pursued and courted to return. 
But the advice of the king prevailed, she 
was left tieglected, and soon after kicked 
the bucket of the same passion that my aunt 
Charity did when she died of a Frenchman. 

While these commotions were diverting 
the industrious bees from their progress, the 
king had directed their attention to a stately 
slexxler figure, who hadj>&ee appeared and 

unassumingly retired^ He frequendy spoke 
of her as one of superior order ; fcM* * By her 
graceful walk the queen of love is known.^ 
Again they saw her« But as they hastened 
. to meet her, Sol scintillated on them his ex- 
piring rays. Warmed however to enthu- 
siasm with the hope of obtaining her for 
their queen, the youthful band was not coded 
in their ardour by the ^ chill hoary wbgs^ 
of evening. They still fancied they saw her 
approaching \like morning led by night:' 
and every doubt was dispelled when they 
heard a high sounding note, which came 
near and more near tiU it vibrated among 
them. They gadiered round, and the artful 
bee knowing, their wishes, and intending by 
deceiving them, to elevate herself to the 
throne, immediately began humming a tune 
on affection—* How difficult the task of a 
friend,' and the like o* that: She then varied 
her note and sang of * hope pointing to the 
sky.' These she gave in a strain at once 
bold and melodious, and well might she have 
attained the summit of her wishes had not the 
experience of the sapient king prevented the 
superchery. He proclaimed his suspicions ; 
but the young enthusiasts would not suffer a 
thought of disappointment, and had nearly 
dedironed their monarch for his pusillaninii- 
ty, as they termed it. The interioper avowed 
she was a qu^jin b :**but majesty continued 
inflexible, and absolutely refused to receive 
her as his consort, which was not the only 
object that allured her. The little common- 
wealth however was determined to follow 
her even though they abandoned their king* 
The venerabk ^sagc was thus left quite m the 
hack ^yji-ounuTy cthe still cdncinaed-tcHbo^er 
on their rear. 

. Luna arose, and discovered to the aflfn^t- 
ed Bees a companion of their queen, whose 
large size and extended lap-wmg shewed 
him tp be of another species. She however 
calmed their fears by telling them it was an 
overgrown drone who attended her : and she 
immediately directed him to lead the way in 
quest of sustenance. Thus advanced, the 
drone led on : byjt instead of alighting with 
tfiem among flowers, he pounced at a poor 
beetle who was industrious^ employed is 
pushing forward with upraised hands the 
food which he had gathered : and which for 
the con\'eniency of rolling to his borough, he 
had formed into an orbicular mould. The 
bees were dis|deased at thus being conducted 
to a substance so different from honey botli 
in its savoilr and perfume. But the queen 
with amazing dexterity told them it was only 
to shew, the similarity between it and their 
king, and ftirther to amuse them she cs- 
chimed, * And how like that com destroy- 
ing grubworm b his companion !* This lat- 
ttr was no less than the bee who had so 
boldly addressed them and induced them to 
quit fiieir retirement. 

Passing onward, their leader darted at a 
variety of insects ; the ant, the musquitoe» 
the fire-fly : and once in his spite he overset 
a harmless thousand le^. The swarm at 
last became quite grumptshy dead insisted that 
they should be no longer obliged to keep the 
company of reptiles. * What,' said they, 
• call these import us ? we cannot feast on 

Digitized by 




them ; we vander in seafck of honey.' The 
drone proceeded with them tf>-a ^i^t on 
which some of his followers alighted, Bar 
they soon started back in disgust at the ap- 
pearan'.e of a tobacco worm. The queen 
then fearing lest her day should be over 
before the approach of night, herself took 
the van and conducted her duped adherents 
to a chesnut tree, where they were soon 
woiuided by die burs, and found themselves 
among a community of maggots. The day 
now dawned, and showed the pretended 
drone to be a gloomy voracious gull, whose 
object was first to separate, and then destroy 
Ae Bees. He persuaded the queen to hum 
them a tune about an eagle, an owl, and a 
non-descript animal, which he called hawk 
and buzzard. These were entirely creatures 
of his own ima^nation : but he prevailed on 
the queen to frighten her subjects, while he at- 
tained his purpose : and in the confusing con- 
flict between night and day, they fancied they 
saw what this gulling moon-calf depicted. 
But it only served to form them into a closer 
phalanx. In the dilemma they all looked to 
their queen, but she was by no means mclin- 
ed to do ought but what her paramour the 
guU should be pleased with, and even had 
she been, she had not the power, for a sud- 
den beam from Phoebus showed her to be 
nothing but a white nose Humble Bee without 
a sting. 

The terrified Bees had now the prospect 
of total annihilation. But at this moment 
the king and his coadjutor, wha had never 
lost sight of them came forward, repulsed 
their deluders, and conducted the Bees in 
saf«^ to the hive.'' CID. 



CCanchded/rvinpage 79. J 
She gave her lily hand trembling, yet reso- 
lute, to her new lover. The mother shrieked, 
and sunk upon her knees in vain. Atrial 
ministers served in a gay repast : the lover 
and the loved sat down together, the mother 
and the other child refused. Ambrosia was 
the food on plates of emeralds, and nectar 
sparkled in adamantine bowb. But nature 
pleaded, and the favoured mifitress would 
not be blessed except her mother shared. 
Anguish tore the parent's heart. She would 
not sit ; she begged her not to taste ; and 
when the fond girl doubted, charged her on 
her obedience : but she was no more heard. 
The lover once again invited both; and 
when refused, he irowned, and bade the|n 
thirst and pine forever in uiq)itied wretched- 
ness and unregarded envy. 

A dungeon now rose in an obscure comer 
of the place : the mother and the daughter 
were thrust into it by fiends. Heat burnt 
them up and they were perishing with thirst, 
while tlie abandoned sister as she drank her 
full bowl called to them : ** Now who is in 
the right ? Now tell me, is obedience to her 
CMT him the better ?" The sister blushed — 
the mother only answered, " See to-mor- 



' FuU revelry and joy prevailed at the de- 
tested board. The sister still invitad — still 

despfet?d-4t^^The mother gazed on them 
with sileutsdrrow*^ At length a crimson 
canopy stretched its wide^urtains and dis- 
closed the bridal bed, TH ^ pair ad v anced 
towards it, and new despair cave once more 
the aiBicted parent words. She prayed and 
she commanded ; both in vain. The infat- 
uated girl approached the bed, and the lover 
followed. The spirits disappeared — the vel- 
vet bed shrunk to a comer of a withered 
hedge. Th« splendour and the power at 
cttice were over. The youdiful Jove now 
stood in his own form, a withered sorcerer ; 
and at the instant appeared the Sibyl, leading 
in her hand the sovereign of the country. 
She told the story. She took forever from 
the wizzard his former power of magic; 
and gave the virtuous daughter to the king. 
The mother saw her empress of the East, 
while the deluded disobedient remained 
what she had made herself, the bride of 
beggary and miserable age. 

The lesson reaches all. The world allures, 

and youth is unexperienced. Obedience to 

a parent is the path to happiness. Blessings 

"^attend on this, and misery never faiU to 

accompany the other. 

Interesting Sketches^ &c. 



Mr* Editor^ 

Your No. 15. has this moment reached 
me, and I candidly confess to Critic, that I 
am ignorant of the history of the house at 
Ayr. His remarks bring to my mind a con- 
versation I once heard regarding the anti- 
quity of Casde-MuUian in the Highlands of 
Scotland. ** The Casde is sa remarkably 
old," said a reverend chieftain, "as to be 
taken notice of in the Bible !" " Indeed ! 
you amaze me,'' exclaimed his neighbour — 
*• Pray where is it mentioned ?" added he, 
and placing a Bible in his hands as he spoke. 
The laird' seized it widi avidity, and I think 
I yet see him examining eveiy page from 
the creation of the world, but his countenance 
fell at least a couple of inches when he got 
to the end of the prophecies of M alachi. 
He then shut the book, and taking off his 
spectacles, said widi the greatest gravity: 
" Well, well ! I am sure it is eidier mention- 
ed in the Bible or in the old Scottish Chro- 

Critic must not however enjoy so hearty a 
laugh at me as I then didtit the old gende- 
man. I have not indeed his advantage of 
a chronological table to consult, but if my 
memory does not strangely deceive me, I 
have somewhere read that the Romans re- 
tained possession of Britain upwards of five 
hundred years ; and this I am sure of, that 
there arc at present many Roman camps in 
Britain in j>erfect preservation. That at Ar- 
doch in Stirlingshire I have often seen, and 
marched through its entrenchments. The 
walls that surrounded my native city, were 
built by Agricola, sind many a time have I 
stood on their ruins, and on surveying the 
adjoining river and fields, exclaimed in the 
words of their celebrated General,^ Ecce 
Tiber I ecce Campus Martius ! P. P. 


Just Criticism, when conducted with good 
humour, is an agr eeable and instructive kind 
ot readmg, tendmg^tolrorrect the taste and 
strengthen the judgment of the reStdor^ and 
need not offend even the author, whose la- 
bours are the subject of animadversion, pro- 
vided he be i^ot governed solely by the " love 
of fame," and keep in view, that he is a be- 
ing liable to error. But when the Critic or 
the Hypercritic betrays a disposition to invec- 
tive, and pulls down another that he may 
build upon his ruins, criticism degenerates 
into bickering, disgusts the reader, exjjoses 
the critic, and may be compared to the " let- 
ting out of water," the end whereof is open 
breach. Hu 


As the successfid cultivation of the soil 
is one of the most important sources of 
wealth to the communit\% and this means 
of obtaining a livelihood seems particularly 
pointed out to man, would it not be deemed 
philanthropic in some of our experienced 
and observing agriculturists—-^ furnish the 
Rural Visiter with a few pertinent hints, 
that might be very useful to those who want 
experimental knowledge relative to the prin- 
cipal sources, different means, and neces- 
sary economy, for securing an honest liveli- 
hood. A reflection that perhaps we have 
been employed in assisting some of our fel- 
low creatures in this laudable enterprise, 
would not be unwelcome to a generous heart ; 
and the application of a few leisure hours 
will be sufficient to accomplish the task ; 
which would be very interesting to, " 




Fair and gay- as blushing Flora, 
Warm with every kindling grace ; 

The crimson'd bloom of bright Aurora» 
Bloonung on her Orient face. 

Lo \ the lovely maud, advancing. 
Sparkling as the blooming May s 

Sportive loves and cupids dancing, 
Wr^Uhe her brows with garlands gay. 

Oe'r her fair oheeks all adorning, 
Kindling smiles and roses glow. 

Bright as the golden beams of morning 
Scattered on a world of snow. 

Ruby lips with freshness blooming. 
Lovers ambrosial breath exhale. 

Scattering sweets, and all perfuming, 
As Ubflca't racy gale. 

Airy shape and graceful air,— 
Gay, bewitching, wayward gipsey 

Youthfuti tender, yielding fair, 
Godt ! vibat a pity t&egeu tipttj. 

H. W. 


The following epigram is originally from the French 
or Latin, but which of the two, I have forgotten. 

Faom Lesbia, lovdy, young and gay. 

The graces stole an eye away ; 
From mmon too, they stole another ; 

Let Damon give his eye to thee, 

And, Lesbia, he shall cupid be. 
And you his youog and lovdy mother. 

Digitized by 


. <* ■ • ■ ■*^ . %^Jt ' * ' 







PuBXius ViEGiuoij Mxio \7;a§ born 
at A^ndeSt ^^^opsiderable village in the 
vicinity of Maniua, on die 15di day of OctOr 
ber, in tlie seventietK year before the. birth 
of our Savidurr His parents though not 
wealthy^ had by their hojiotirable industry 
and frugality acquired sufficient, propertjr to 
enable them tp confer an excellept education 
upon their wprthy and projmising son. justly 
considering a gQod edijication as of the niost 
important nature, they fegfaided it ^ of in- 
finitely more inipoftaiice than a triflii^ ac- 
auisitionin money.. ,Th^ gi^atest pare wals 
lerefore paid to his inteuectual acquire- 
ments, and to the budding of that mind 
which was to produce such valuable fruit. 
Virgil passed the fii-st seven Jrears of his life 
at Cremona, where he imbibed the rudi- 
ments of knowledge ; after the expiration of 
that time he continued hw literary pursuits 
at Mediolanur^* now called Milari^ a city so 
remarkable as the seat of the liberal arts and 
sciences as to have dbtained jthe distinguish- 
ing appellatioii of Novi Atherfk^ the New 
Auiens, after {he celebraJed thistres§ of every 
omarnental and useful branch dF imcieht 
knowle<^v , 

At this plape, under circumstances so fa- 
vourable, Virgil must have m93,e considera- 
ble progress, biit Ws course of education was 
completed at N^les. His iiine and industry 
were devotdd to the general acquisition of 
Grecian and Roman learning, which afiCbrdrd 
a noble field for his industry and aimlicationf. 
but he more particiiliiriy directedhis atten-- 
tion to the studies of physics and inatt^ina- 
tics, for yihhch he ever after retained a strong 
predilectiony as he has himself testified in 
the second book of his Georgics* In the 
thirtieth year of bis age^ Vir«a sustained a 
misfortuae whick, p«K>v€dift&e??|f^rds the 
source of his greatness- The province in 
which his property ewjsted was foVfeit^d by 
Octavius (}«««•> as a punisnment for their 
adherence to the cause and forttmes of his 
defeated enemy, and divided among the 
mercenary soldiers t Viiyil was one of the 
sufferers, and deprived of l^s )jiat^ihOj^y, he 
determined to endeavour to ptiish \\is fortunes 
in Rome* In ifcis cit)s niow the mistress of 
the world, in a state of pe^c j, where genius 
and talents were UberaHy rewarded and gene- 
rously encourajjed, VirgU could not long 
remain in obscurity* His uhcbmmQn powers 
attracted notice, and his mterits procured for 
. him zealous and powerful Metids. Among 
these was Asiniu& PoIIio, who wa^in favour 
with Augustus '^ and throurfi his agency, or 
by means of his individuil m6'K^ solely, he 
acquired the frien&hip of the emperor, from 
whom he obtained a f^rant of his lormer pro- 
perty. Elevated abw^ indigeof^, and forti- 
fied by the favour of Augustus, he now coyi- 
minced hi& literary career ; ana a^ tne desire 
of PolUo wrote his Bucolics* In these poems, 
though of a pastoral nature, and intended 
to delineate and rc?present itrral scehes atod 
manners, Virgjil has qontrived U> interweave 
some politicsd inforhiaticm, and like {^hidias 
ih his statue of Jupker^ has not altogether 

omitted himselE He expre^ses^ with th6 
utmost fervour his gratitM:^ and affection td 
Augustus and PcJUo. Thtsk po€rtis thoii^ 
dKdoi3>fedIy the least (ionsider^e ph>difc- 
tion of their author, iittr^cted gteiil notid*^ 
ahd Were held in sreat estihiatr6ii: by hh 
cduntrjTtfien, even mtf his p6steH<H* wofks 
had destroyed their clihh to tht £rst r^hk 
of Roiban poetry ; thtfy wete 6ccasiohdly 
recited upon the swge f&r the ttilertaiftmetit 
df the audience, and ritfs^d the eipecttftioh^ 
of the Romad fyeople concerning Mi fut^f-6 
works. The id^aof th^ Bucblici wi8e%'i- 
deritiy borrowed frcriii the Idyllia of The6- 
critus, of whom also be is in some places a^ 
almost literal translator. Betiiteen th^se t\vo 
productio^is many comparisohs haive be^h 
^ made 5 the general opinion however is ih 
favour ofthe superiority of Theocritus. Tlie 
extreme simplicity of the Siciliati baid is 
perfecdy adapted t6 the nature of his subject, 
the ideas are for the most part rural ahd 
natural, and are expf-essed in the Doric dia- 
lect, so admirably calcfcdated to add to the 
sweetness of versification. The ideas <is well 
as language of Virgil beitig hiore appropriate 
to the polished courtiet than to the rural 
swain, certainly s^p^ar to a discerning and 
accurate critic as m some degree inconc;ru- 
ous ; but ages have pronounced upon uieir 
merit, and tvetf aditdr^r of poetry wUl unite 
to confirm the decision. 

Virgil next undertook the Georgics, in 
iVhich he hai miich imprbired upotl the 
" Wwksand Dhys" of HtsiOd, fh)m whom 
he bot-rbwed iitde moi-e thaii the geitet-il 
idea. In this t)i-6duction. which has bectt 
considered by many ekcenent ctitics as thd 
liiost highly finished speclnien bf Roman 
pbetrj^, the'sitithbr has embellished die pre- 
cepts of a farhier witii the beauty of tlie 
finest versification, and interspersed with 
many excellent morU reflections arising na- 
turally frpmthie subject. Virgil was employ- 
ed durinjg seven ye^rt in. composing this 
work, during which time he retit-ed frofti the 
tumultuous scenes, of Rome tb Naples. It 
is addressed tb MecaM^, so celebrated as 
Ae patron of literary geniiis, ^d who was 
particul^ly the wann fHend of Virgil. An- 
eient autltot^ iitform us thdt the be&titiful 
episode which concludes the poem was not 
originally inserted 'r its place was occupied 
by kn elaborate eulogium upon his fnend 
Cornelius Galbus, but Galbus having Mjout 
diis time incurred the resentriient of the 
cmpteror, Vir^l substituted the e^stnl^ as it 
now stdilds. 

As a ^poetical composition, the Georgics 
ire entitled to bur trtmost priiise j the em* 
ploymedts of ^grictrftiire were regio-ded with 
p&i^icular hohb\]r aVhob^ the RoM^n^, ahd 
while Virgil delivered the most impott^tit 
and tisefbl lessons to tbos^ who were engaged 
in hiisbtmdty, he eicited tiife adnnranoin of 
M by the animated diction, "the be^ty of 
sentiment, ^ ^Cdgance of exptessioh With 
whii^h he ei^bdBi^hed thb most common I^Cib- 
jects. This work obtained for its author the 
affedtion and i^egs^ of Augustus, trtiorti 
VirgH ilBVoked fai h particular manni^ as la 
superintending deity at the commetit^^fmeht 
of the |>oem* At \h^ ihsli^;ati^n cf Auj{(m^ 





t*i, and by his particular desire, VirgiS 
next itiodoitdok Ins most important woi% the 
^tteid, k woi*k iii which h^ has in inhumer- 
a(Ae ihstikhc^s imitated the various ht^iitB 
of thfe Iliaid and Odyssey. Th? pecuUai^ aiid 
distingtiishin^ characteristics or both these 
pb^ths tff Hom^r hsi^t been united by Vir- 
gjilj Mid ff ih paoticitlaif' i^stalSrces he has d^ 
^nerat^ £P6m the Iherits of his illustrious 
ri\'al {^d predecessor, in not a few he haS; 
manifested tAi superiority. A u^lfbrm aiid 
equ£S)le itraih of elegance pervade the whole 
JKneid 9 tii^ most excellent instrut^tron^ and 
a system of niotals as fine as heaflieh sdofti- 
quity cstfi display, ^tte decorated #ith the 
rtiost highly fmished aad magnificat poeti- 
cal omaratertts. In ardour and inlipef ubsit;^ 
Virgil is mf^rior to Hom^ ; He evitices i, 
^ms&er pofiioTL of that poetic fii-^ which Ex- 
cites a species of enthusiasm ih the readef- ; 
which by the admirable skill displayed in the 
various selections and coihbih&tions of fea- 
tures, bim^ itktb immediate slhd perfect 
vieit the objects iifrhich are described. IH 
his account of the H^adien Deities, I thihk 
him superiot. Though he hiis not given 
Jiipitei' so Ihuch awful solemhity ad Homer 
has attributed to the supretnfc dfeit jr of Olytn- 
piis, he tiever degnides him into incotisist 
encies lior indecencies. One of the highest 
excellences dt Virgil, ahd for which he de-*- 
serves great commendation, is the purity oF 
the ihot^ irhich he inculcates^ and the fir- 
tuotis ^entlhiehts with whidi his works are 
replenished. Thode highly trrought pictures 
of vice, thosii ^lis dbscenities axi3 lasdvious 
destriptiona which t)ollute the pages of Ovid ,. 
Catlilluii, and even Tibullus, are uniformly 
avoided. This description of writing, the 
tcndehdy of which is so fextretnfcly penirdous 
, to youth, was much admired at'Rbfh^ during, 
this licentious period, and Catullus openly 
defends it iri that well known coliplet which 
has fottned the defence of ihany of a similar 
mode of thihking. 

Naifei cftatum ent, decet pium |K>etain 
Ipsum i versiculos nihil neceese est. 

Virgil therefore in avoldinjj a vice so com- 
mon, so fashionable, and which wns so much 
admired, is entitied to our unqualified praise* 

This admirable poem received not the 
last corrections of th^ author. Virgil wai 
desirous Of retiring into Greece ahd Asia, 
where undisturbed by business or turtiult, 
he tniight bestow opon it its last polish, but 
While pursuinig this resolutJo*i, he ihet Au- 
gOstos tetiSirhing from a foreign expedition, 
and wlis prevailed upon by the empferor to 
accompany him to Rome. On his arrival at 
Brundusium he' expired in the fifty^second 
year of hiB age. In conformity to his par- 
ticubir desire et^ressed during his illness, 
his body #lw carried to Naples and interred. 
The following verses written by himself 
shordy before his deatii, were inscribed upon 
his tomb: 

Mantiia roe genuit 1 Calabri rapti jre ; tenet nunc 
^rthenope ; dttini pa^ua, ruia, daces. 

It Hits beito asserted by some persons that 
Virgil on his death bed consigned the iBneid 
to destruction, owing to its unfinished state, 
Sihd that Augustus in p^e3el^^nfe it broke his 

Digitized by ^^'^^ 



GJtpteei commandw Sctfetcmfosr h<if^^ttt lA- 
f orma us, that Virgil left it! to Che cife of 
two o^ his friends^ by whom it was to Ho 
revised and cothpfetcd*. Au^aftos enSoHd* 
theni fo etert thcrr rfuthbtitt it6 ftfr oftlf ^ 
to expunge what was deficibhf, bi!it^ abtolutely 
res^eted them from mfdsing any addiitoM> 

A^ a urn Vii^gil wa« cfniineitt fm hi« irty- 

%\xti. Tfie ^h6rt6es$ of thft: imp^rfttt Sketch 

preveuts my expatiatihg on his charactdr^ 

and ikiefitiomh^ the rafioiw aneicdotes hv 

c6f ded tt Mini Hte iAo*eatf fv-af* e*tf ehi«^ 

arid otrfain^d for YiM Ad iKt6 oT *^ (he fiio- 

dest man," and several instances of it are 

mentioned hi h»tonan^tf By Ms feiAp^fam^e 

he f^-blotf^d hid Hfe \5ef6hd Ac mm #h|6h 

nature seeihed to hav^ prescn&e(l to hiin^ 

for his constitution was very delicate. ii'» 

gt^tittid^ tkiA aff^^M td his frvhi(h nte 9v^ 

ficiefttly hiaftlfestea Ht AiirkfkM fittsSt his 

writiiigs i and the same tesfimdny ^tnblishes 

the purity of hi^ prinetptes^ the piect of \m 

didi^ctcr arid the tirtiifeS tff his hem. tti« 

maiiiiers were polisli^d aiid Hfiti^il ; hi& iin- 

dera^Msding improved by assiduous cultiva* 

tioti ; ittid his ihftks bear zmpit te^tifikifrv w 

the vei^atilhy of Hi* adtiuifeth^trts atoit'the 

extent of his learning. 


Arz&titf Th^t^rHU on ihi u^ i/ SfnntHoit9 

What prudent f^foil Wbtdd khow. 

ingly receive lirtb Ks hotrfe atid fenilly, 

a pcrfbix whb itiight tttf ^hAibly dc- 

fltoy the ttKJndity of hik fons, and lajr a 

foundation for their wafting (he eftate 

he had acquired by \m iaduftiy ? and 

yet it may be feared that there are ma* 

ny {^eiribns To indifcreei, &8 to receive in-- 

to their (lores add cellars^ ()\]antitifes of 

thofe ardent fpiritSi and permit their fii- 

mily to have rccburfe to theto, until a 

foundation be laid iot their wafting by 

intemperance, the patrittibnv hinded 

down to them by their anccftorsi in 

all fuch cafes, it may be incumbeht oh 

prudent pdirents of either fex^ to ufe 

their influence that this deftructive arti- 

dc may be k6pt from the iamiliar accefs 

of their childreii, by havitig it confined 

nnder lock and key. 

It is believed that the cuftomary ufe 
of thofe fpirits tn th€ limes ^Imy and 
barve/i, and oA Other occafions of la- 
boar, has been a great means of promo<» 
ting intemperance among the labtfuring 
doss ci mankind, to their depravation 
and hurt. It is for this reafon that ma- 
ay coniiderable farmers have from con* 
fcicntious motives, declined thb ]practice 
of making ufe of diftiited fphrrts in thei» 
fields' and meadows; and find by cKperi- 
ence that their labourers enjoy better 
beabby and are wore eafily governed ; 

and tliat in this mantief they are favour- 
ed to g^er in the frtilts of the earth 
witfi greater ea/e^ and peace ot mind, 
atid to receive thofe bounties of provi^ 
denee in a more fuitabte manner, than 
whfeii froitf etrftew they trew led to act? 

Much good might be expected to be 
derived (rota a fimilar improvement, in 
refpect to furnifeing fnechamcf wiA fpi- 
rituons liquors^ as is too freq^entlv and 
often thoughtlefsly done. A grdat fource 
of ihfcnnpcrance in that ufcful department 
of fociety, mrght by fuch a li^e of con- 
duct be done away, which now' too fre- 
qdently fliews the obvious efiects in nta- 
ny fofrowful ioftances, of a contrary 

As to the practice of (diAt tdio hand 
out freehr the su-tide of brandy, or other 
diftilled 4)irttuoUs Hqddrs to their guefts 
upon the dining table, tsrhcthcr from 
motives of appetite, of pride, or of mi£- 
taken liberality, it is a practice fo repug. 
nant to rectitude as to be entitled to the 
hearty (^otideftliiatibn of every feeling 
mind. The handing abbut, and par- 
taking affb, of the glafs, in the attend- 
anoe at courts^ and on other public oc- 
cafions, as it directly contributes to keep 
in countenance a pernicious practice of 
intemperance, fo it is hoped, it will be 
ftudionfly avoided by every Itrdividua! 
who feels interefted in the morality and 
ptofperitjr of his country, as well as for 
the prciervation of peace in his own 
mind by the hoheft difcharge of dnty, 
in letting " his light Ihinc" before men, 
by the exhibition of correct example. 

We may find it expreflcd by the pro- 
phet Ifaiah, *^ Woe to the crown of 
pride, to the drunkards of Epbraim.'- 
And ^ain, " the crown of pride^ the 
drunkards of Ephraim fhah be trodden 
under fcet.''-^Ifa. xxviii. i, 2. May 
it not be found, that pride and drunken- 
nefs fo prevalent among the inhabitants 
of this land, will draw do\vn the right- 

*H' " II I I ■ ■ ■ - ■ .,,,■■. .. • ■■■ 

* Some t^ho ire ftot iMMcndV/ to a refoitnftttoa of 
custom in thfia pmtticul«r, are ^rtt apprehensive of diffi- 
culty hi otrrying It hito execution, ftroro the scarcity 
of hMids, who are willing to ^Ao ^without the cuttocn- 
aff supply 1 in runes of hay and barvaat. But the eiu 
perience of many might be adduced to show that dif- 
ticultias of Oiit kind «re more hnaginary than real, 
aftd that wW«re thei^ is a wilKr^ mind, and an in- 
ward convicrioft of the propriety erf the%tc|}s, the la- 
boorers hi hay add haif^st Mda arfc irat in geftetal 
so unreasonable) a^ hm cheerfotty to comply with a 
requishion so directly calculated for th^ own bene- 
fit, as weM hs for the satisfadiion df their einplo>er8. 
Also, ih la^ msHiofhctories, m of irom^ gl'tn, €/ori6« 
&t. ttie TeformaHon liere advooatad* arauld, we have 
the fullest persuasion, be found in the experimaat not 
only Mciicable, but hi|;hly irfvwttagjeons. In the 
large i«^ Wotks at Weymo'atk, inttiis Staite, <W€W- 
Jersey) the cxperittfdit, w« are mfdrmed, is at this 
time entered into viib the most compile sacctu. 

eOu^ Judgeofeilts of an offended Creator, 
unle(s thofe fins sK ret>ented of, and re- 
fOrttatbA of taaaner happity brought 

No Vkt is more odiovs in Stfdf, or 
TDk3¥^ vSuious m it$ confeqoences, both to 
iddi^ual^ and ro fociety, timn habUual 
immperame in drinking \ and perhapsy 
a^ before Unted, in no country is this 
\kt vm&tt obfervabkr than in our own. 
I^ i« indeed al fictional fiuy a blot, a (tarn 
u^On tiic? iitptti^on of this rifing and 
highly favoured country, f ntemperailce, 
M^ith us, indeed is not wholly limited to 
the ufe of ardent fpirits, but fometimes 
wine^ cider ^ beer, ale^ &c. are made ufe 
of to excels \ but the great fource of in- 
tcmperancet it is believed, lies with the 
common and cuftomary ufe oifpirituons 
liquotf. Ifeefe poffefs the intosHcatiifg 
principle in a much greater degree, than 
any of the fermented liquors, and being 
of cafy acccfs, hence the deftructive c^ 
feet o^ them uj;K)n the community.— <- 
Spirituous liquors being therefore a 
more dangetou^ luxury, they require 
for that reafon to be more fbictljr watch- 
ed againft, and as far as may be, fup- 
prefTed. It would be an unfpeakablc 
benefit to the world, if the cuflomary 
ufe of them were banilhed altogether ; 
which ean beft be done by j&owning 
them Kmt irf* countenance^ Let thof« 
therefore who poffefs the benevolence of 
the gofpcl, (the benevolence which is 
infpired by that glorious gofpel which 
breathes " peace on earth, and good wHl 
to men,^') unite to difcourage, as way 
may open, the common and cuftomary 
ufe of an article fo pernicions to the 
great family of mankind. 

Though fermented liquors poffefs in 
degree th« power oiF intoxicating, it is 
in them^ however, not near fo great as 
is the cafe with ardent fpirits ; nor is 
the abufe of them near fo univerfal, nor 
fo dreadful, in the former cafe as in the 
latter. Fermented ikjuors when taken 
in dae moderation, are known to poiffefs 
in confiderable degree, the nutritive ^n^ 
ciple ; whilfl in ardent fpirits, it is al- 
lowed, that thereisnonourifhment, but 
only ^Jiimdw upon the nourifhmentprc- 
vk)uily taken ; fo that by means of a ra* 
pid circuUtion of flrength and animal 
fpirits for a time, the fyftcm is at length 
left in a pkopdrtionate flate oienthmyiim 
and weaknefi. This view of the fab- 
ject, which is indeed of fome importance, 
feems to be confirmed by the circum* 
ftanccs which recently occurred in a re- 
markable cafe of djftrefs at fea. \Vben 

Digitized by 




tbc bodily ftrcngth of the furvivors was 
almoft cxhaufted by fatigue, hunger, 
and third, fome of the crew, meeting 
with a cafiial fupply of ardent fpirits, 
reforted to them for relief ; when now, 
there being no longer any nutriment 
previouily takqn for the fubfiftence of 
nature, the fpirits, infttead of fumiflung 
the needful fupply, only JHmulated the 
ah-eady exhaufted ftock of ftrengtb, and 
death was the immediate confequcnce qa 
all but those wha refrained, from an. 
Hidulgence in them. 

No. IV. 


This, is a paioful worldy r&plete ^ch woc^ 
The school of misery, and poor sinners' iou 
peath is a real friend : but him we fear— 
We live in misery, and we dread to die. 

Why wish to lengthen life's tempestuous voyage^ 
Thro' storms, thro' passions, and a dismal sea> 
'Mon^ visible and latent rocks of vice. 
As wave on wave, so woe qd M(oe pimues. 
And foams and dashes on the soul embark'd. 
The soul that's unpreparf d to meet its God, 
Prefers life's woes, to horrible despair. 

Age oft increases wickedness.and woe y 
Sins grow in bulk like rolling balls of snow : 
Or like to interest compound, the stock, 
% hours, days^ momhs, and years accumulates. 
Then why shouJd man be griev'd, if firieodly^eathi 
Should come and lead us out this warring world. 
Replete with pride, oppression, and deceit. 
To space unbounded ; to eternity ? 

Alas ! remorse, thou art the sting of death-*-. 
My sins like noxious plants have taken root, 
Grown, blossom'd, ripeo'd) and their vile seeds 

sown ; 
And I in m«lanehoIy, pass my days» 
Absent in mind— alone in company ;, 
I seek the dpset, or ^e cypress shade. 
Come Godliness, and bless my soul-retir'd : 
Inspire my soul with patience and content. 
Behold she comes-rand thus she seems tc^ say ;•— . 
*< Equal is human happiness, and ease ; 
Where oft it seems uneq^al and severe. 
Nights follow days, and winters follow summers; 
Woes follow joys, and hardships ij^llow ease. 
All things are balanc'd in the scale of justice ; 
And if we have things better, they grow worse;, 
A steady fervor heats the torrid zone ; 
Continual changes temperate climes pursue ; 
Six months the frigid zones in darkness lie, 
<How sad ; — yet six- they have in pleasant day. 
Then be content my sou! i hope thou in God;: 
•And nights, and winters, stormy or serene. 
Will no more trouble, though thfey sometimes try." 
The pilgrim travellers pass through various scenes. 
The desart, wilderness ; o'er rocks, and hills ; 
Tliroueh vales, and bogs ; or culthrated fields, 
And pleasant villages ; so be content. 


Fo«BiGN<«»A private letter received at Lloyd's, 
dated Gottenburg, September 10th, says, " We have 
just heard -that out of a convoy of 55 sail of British 
ships bound to the Baltic, 21 have been lost with all 
their crews, not far from Marstrand. 

A treaty ot alliance between France and Austria, 
having for its object a war with Russia, is talked of. 

Col. Burr is said to be -at Paris, under the superin- 
tendant of the police, now in the character of a British 

Mr. A. Goldsmidt, one of the great contractors .for. 
the British loan shot himself on the 28th September. 

The explosion of a powder magazine in Hungary is 
said to have destroyed 300 houses and 80 persons-^ 
200 living persons were dug out of the ruins- diead* 
fully mangled. 

The exchange of prisoners— the restoration of im- 
portant members of families to the arras of their rela- 
tives, and.ridding the nation of expense and oppres- 
sion, cannot be agreed on by the belligerants. 

By news arrived from Malta dated August last, it 
appears tiTere has a dispute arisen between the Bey of 
Tunis and our Consul, respea|ing «i American ship 
which had been captured by the French, and purchas- 
ed by the minister of the Bey. She was stopped at 
Malta by her former supercargo ; on the Bey hearing. 
this intelligence, he immediately confiscated all the 
American property in Tunis to a vsery great amount. 
Hpw this will be settled time only can determine. 

Superstition, once encouraged, adds a 
needless and superfluous drop into the cup 
of life, already too replete^with bitterness. 

Ikfsat of the Turh. 

An official; account of a late battle between the 
Russians and Turks has been published by the for- 
mer. The battle commenced at ten in the mominir' 
and at seven at night the Turkish army was complete^ 
ly annihilated— those that escaped the slaughter, ^it- 
ulated. The whole Turkish army destroyed, dispersed 
or captured, is stated at 40,000. ' 

Accounts from Cape Francois state, that Christophe 
had got possession of the Mole, the rebels embracing 
an amnesty offered them, sunenderal at discretioa 
Measures were immediately taken for besieging the 

Domestic.-— Various attempts have been made 
since the late awful scene at Charleston to fire the 
city in different places. Is not this one amonr the 
important services of sla/oet f 

Another mammoth cheese arrived at Exchange 
Slip, N. Y.— weight, 1522 lbs. Dimensions 5 1-2 f^c 
^ in diameter, and 15 inches thick, 

N. J. Armstrong arrived in N. York the 18th inst. 
and has gone on for the seat of government. 

A new discovery in the art of tanning is reported 
by J. G. Wood and Benjamin Wood, of Vermont, by 
which calf skins are said to be made better leather 
than by the common methods, in the short space of 
48 hours— upper leather in 4 days, and sole leather in 
20 days. 

The shock of an earthquake was Experienced in 
several towns in New England the evening of the 9th 
insunt, to wit| Portsmouth, Newburyport, Exeter, 
Portland and Kennebunk. It is sakl to have pass^ 
from south to northward. In some places it was so 
violent as to bveak the windows a^ stop clocks<»its 
duration about 20 seconds. A vessel in the Merrimack 
coming up at the time, was considered by the hands as 
having struck upon rocks- 

A vblcnt storm at the Havanna has been productive 
of great damages. Those of the shipping alone are 
estimated at g 300 to 250.000 ; but the planutions 
have suffered much more. The plantain trees and 
cane were prostrated— coffee prematurely blown from 
the trees, so that half erops orJv are calculated on. 
, The sea broke 4a feet above the fla^ staff on the 

Our foreign relations we are scjrry to oute, wear an 
exceedingly unpleasant appearance, particulariy those 
relating to the belligerant powers of Europe. 

Count Pahlen the Russian minister, arrived at the 
Federal City a few days since, where he purposes to 
reside during the winter. 

A Mr. Chamberlain of Peachan, Vermont, by an 
intrepid effort which was attended with great personal 
danger, lately secured a notorious robber of the name 
of Miles. 

By minuses of conference of the society of raetho- 
dists m the United States, it appears that in 1791 their 
number amounted to 76,153, !nl«Ql to 72,87^ and 
in 1810 to \7Z,560, 

The nomber of post-offices in 1801 was 957— last 
ear they amounted to 2000. 

L ATB Fresh.— Thfe late tains have been productive 
of very great damage in different parts of the countn 
m N. Brunswick all the wharves in the city were under 
v^ater, and the lower parts of the streets leading to the 
mer completely deluged; the ground floors of the 
hduses and stores were covered, some as deep as from 
fMir to five feet--the like is sakl not to have ever been 
wmm, except by the stopping of the ice in i782L- 
Higher up the river, nothing has ever equalled thedt- 
mages sustained in the ware houses.— Herds of cattle 
bridMs, mill dams, and fields of com and large hay' 
Stocks, have been carried away and demolished. li 
the PotoHiack the chain bridge over the falls above 
Georgetown has been carried away, aad some say 2000 
cords of dry wood lodged againtt the Great bridtt.- 
In the act of securing some of this„several hves were 

wi7^* ^'"^^ ^*'^^ ^"'** *^^*^* ^*** Conococheagee 
at Willianasport, was entirely swept away, and with 

'15^5*'^ **""8^ *^*t intercepted its course, such as dis. 
^enes, saw miUs, &c. Mr. Tonson's ware house, at 
J ""i*^"' was swept away with a quantity of Ur 
w ^11^^ *°^* ** estimated at xaoo doUars. At 
waterford, (Pen,)a great Quantity of timber was swept 
away ; damages, at a moderate eomputatioa, amomit 
Irom ten to twelve hundred deUars. The causewa? 
l>etween Passaic and Hackensac bridges, were com. 
pletely mundated. The docks in Newark were over, 
flowed, and the Patterson bridge, the society saw miU, 
several houses, and considerable other property, is 
swept away, and the grist-mill is seriotisly injured 
Majw Godwin's two story stone dwelling house is en- 
tirely down, and several dwelling houses and store&-> 
the damage is immense. The falls presented a scene 
awfully sublime. 

DhAths lately-^alebWijirfit.Vincentown, Burling, 
ton county, Mred 23 years.— l/iz^-Jv A E. Weir, on the 
i8th mst. wife of AVas B. Weir, U ■• hiladelphia, in the 
aeth year of her age.— Also, on the 1 6th inst Sanml 
Carpenter, an old and respectable inhabitant of the 
»me place.— In North Carolina, on the iiih ult AU 
Jrea Moore, Esq, late an assistant Jud/re of the Su- 
preme court of the U. States. 


OCJ* The Editor has lately received complaints, iha- 
some of his subscribers are not regularly supplied with 
their [>apers.— J52r wibet them to obter^e-^xh^t it mint 
be attributed to medd/etome persons at the places whc«r 
they receive them ; as he is particulariy carefiil to 
forward them to the different places of their destins- 
tion : andhas adopted such a method of mailmg those, 
which goby mail and otherwise, that it is almost im- 
possible to omit a single name. 

As Leamier applies to our chirurgical skin, and bl«. 
us to tell him what we think of his case,'* wc have 
Uken it-senously into considerationi and Would recom- 
mend the stxictestprcftnety in his -6<2^>*,^let his diet 
consist of liquids ; pnncipaUy water gruel ; this, with 
a strict attention to the reguhir movement of the pas* 
sians, moderate study and reading, chiefly in the Scrip. 
tm^s--«s the health of the body is inUmately connect- 
ea with that of the mind— aided by the interesiinr 
conversation of ihh/tmaU of " the Golden age," we 
think cannot fail to operate favourably upon hiro.— It 
IS certainly as Leander conjectures— his malady is 
" a compound fracture of the heart •' We have nu- 
meroiw cases of this kind, and shall most certainly re- 
cord tJbt* on our minutes. 

It would but be adding barbarity to Flirtilia* 
past entelties to publish her triumphs. 

" Daughter of flesh and Wood— cease, cease to prove 
Virtue s strong shield— and dread the bolt of Jove." 

We shall not deprive our readers of any possible a- 
museraent in solving and communicating to each other 
the solutions of our Enignfas. They are a species of 
composition not of sufficient importance to occupy 
much room in our paper. 

A piece of Tyro*s mammoth cheese might, if the 
creain is m it, taste good ; but as he acknowledges it 
» stolen property, wc are averse to becoming receivers 
we have no objection to present his question to 
our readers, if he will give it to us in neat prose. 

Published Weekly^ by D. Allxmon^ 


Price two Dollars sixty. two Cents for Volume fir^^ 
payable semi-annually in advance. . 

Digitized by 



*' Homo sum ; htmani nihil a me aUenum fiutoJ^-^Man aud his cares to me a man^ are dear. 

VOL. I. 


No* 19. 


£rat stud^us ftudiendi; ex hoc enim faciUime disci 

Cork, Nep. 

There is no one thing in our intercourse 
with society at once so interesting and in- 
structive, as conversation^ when it is directed 
to proper objects. This reciprocal commu- 
nication of our ideas is the principal source 
of intellectual wealth, it is one of the noblest 
privileges of reason, has the greatest effect 
in gaining our affections, and tends more 
particularly to set mankind above the brute 
creation than any other faculty we possess. 

Conversation calls into light what has been 
lodged in all the recesses ^and secret cham- 
bers of the soul by occasional circumstances; 
it recalls to our mind old and useful ideas, it 
unfolds and displays the hidden treasures of 
knowledge with which reading, observation 
and study had before furnished the mind, 
and it excites our intellectual powers to 
greater vigour in pursuit of unknown truths. 
When I consider these great advantages 
that may be derived from conversation, par- 
ticularly to the incxjjcricnccl uxkI uitAlinied 
mind, and the shameful abuse that is too 
generally made of this noble faculty, I can- 
not avoid giving to the public a few general 
rules, which should be rigidly adhered to, by 
those who wish to render themselves respec- 
table in life, and in their intercourse with 
society, easy, instructive, and entertaining. 

I trust I shall not be considered imperti- 
nent in offering my ideas on this important 
subject, or in pointing out those deviations 
which appear to me most glaring ; and which 
I am sorry to add, have already had great 
effect in destroying that harmony which 
ought to subsist in a well regulated society, 
and in subverting the greatest advantage 
that is to be derived from an interchange of 
ideas ; viz. the improvement of our minds. 
The primary and most important rule to be 
attended to in conversation, is to observe all 
the laws of politeness in it. This rule in 
our intercourse with society is of all others 
the most indispensible. Though perhaps it 
is not in the power of every one to say witty 
things, or to tell an agreeable story, yet every 
man who conducts himself with modesty and 
politeness, will assuredly gain the esteem of 
the company he associates with; for these 
qualiftcations have infinitely more power to 
make^ a person beloved, and his company 
sought after, than the most e^Araordinary 
attainments he can be master of. There are 
three principal qualities which render con- 
versation agreeable ; witi sense and polite- 
riesj. Wit pleases, but sometime^ offends : 

good sense is more engaging than wit, but 
politeness has stronger attractions than either. 
Can there be any Mng more impolite than 
to hear a person interrupt another while, 
speaking by asking some impertinent ques- 
tion ; addressing one of the company in a 
loud voice upon a different subject from the 
one which is the general topic of conversa- 
tion, or (to adopt a vulgar expression) tak- 
ing die words out of the speaker's mouth ? 
Yet how often in social life do we see persons 
so far forget themselves as to be guilty of 
conduct like this ! Some may do it through 
ignprance, but even these are generally re- 
marked by the polite and accomplished part 
of mankind as vulgar and illbred. 

The second rule to be observed in conver- 
sation is, to conform ourselves to the taste, 
character and present humour of the persons 
we converse with ; at least as far as lies in 
our power. If wit and humour be displayed 
for the amusement of the company, and you 
have not a natural talent for this species of 
conversation, nevei^ attempt it ; for forced 
wit like forced gaiety, is always disgusting. 
We should always keep ourselves within the 
bounds of our knowledge on every subject, 
and never talk of things we are ignorant of, 
for we cannot fail in this rule without render- 
ing ourselves ridiculous ; yet how often do 
we see it transgressed. Some who on war 
or politics would make a figui^, will be con- 
stantly talking on works of literature and the 
Belles Lettres; others who are naturally of 
a serious disposition, and would shine in a 
grave discourse, constatitly aim at wit and 
pleasant!^', though with the worst grace im- 
aginable ; hence it is we so often see a per- 
son of information appear like a fop, and a 
man of genius converse like a fool. 

One of the most common as well as the 
most disgusting foibles we meet with in so- 
ciety is that of egotism. Nodiing is more 
distressing or unentertaining, than to hear a 
person amusing a company with long stories 
m which self is the principal actor ; with 
private anecdotes, and long repetitions of 
uninteresting conversations with a frien^i 
descending ^o the minutest particulars, and 
the innumerable members of '* says I," and 
" says he," which must necessarily attend it. 
I have known some people who accuse them- 
selves ofT>eing destitute of almost every vir- 
tue ; many who desire to be thought men of 
spirit, affect a hardness and unfeelingness 
which in reality they never had, their conver- 
sation marked with horrid and silly oaths, 
and all merely to gain the credit of being 
men of spirit. But do not these people great- 
ly mistake their aim ? if these manners are 
natural they are brutes, if assumed they are 
fools. Others we hear cbntmually talking 

about their own talents and acquirements : 
one extolling himself as being superior to 
the generality of mankind, ancnher acting in 
a more sly, but in my opinion equally re- 
diculous manner, continually deploring the 
want of talents, and giving people to under- 
stand that he looks upon himself as ^eing 
litde better thi act vanit}^ 

is the sole indi :>ne wish- 

ing to impres le idea of 

his superior n he is be- 

low mediocrit gain the 

reputation of i e, merelv 

as a cloak to a 5 of which 

he himself is arclhey 

less deserving , gi'oss the 

whole conversation to themselves without 
allowing others a reasonable share in it. I 
always look upon this as an aflront to the 
rest of the company, because they seem to 
think themselves more sensible, more enter- 
taining, and more worthy of attention than 
any omer one present. There is also another 
fault in conversation no less offensive than 
those I have already spoken of, and which I 
am sorry to add,i9 tQp general: I mean that of 
diverting ourselves at the expense of others. 
How many hours are thrown away, in exer- 
cising the illnatured talent of turning into 
ridicule the chaiacters and manners of our 
friends and acquaintance, which might other- 
wise be spent in rational entertainment, or 
in cultivating our wit for more generous 
and virtuous purposes ! And what have we 
in the room of it ? Nothing but a picture of 
mangled and lacerated characters, a disagree- 
able scene at best; unless where ill nature or 
envy reconciles it to the mind. 

' There are many other rules which might 
with propriety be here enumerated, as neces- 
sary to be attended to in our intercourse widi 
society, and many faults that J have not 
hinted at which would attract the attention 
of no very observing person, but I pass them 
unndticed ; those I have spoken of are the 
most important, and he who has any inclina- 
tion to adopt them, and avoid those devia- 
tions we BO often see, will readily perceive 
others, which will require his attention ; as 
they are generall^^ incidental to those priman- 
ones I have mentioned. O. ^ 


The heart .wants somethhcg to be 
KIND to. . It consoles us for the loss of 
society to see even an animal derive happi^ 
ness from the endearments we bestow upon 
it^ — ^The simplicity of this truth, pays an ele- 
gant moralist, in no manner dimipis^hes froip 
its eloquence. 

Digitized by 





Communion sweet! comxAttnion large, and high! 


In the frequent excursions which I have 
at various times made, through the different 
parts of the United States, I have endeavour- 
ed to obtain as complete a knowledge of the 
manners and characters of the people, as my 
speedy mode of travelling would permit me ; 
and have found that the citizens of one state, 
in their habits, occupations, &c. differ from 
tliose 3 the phlegm 

^ of the ihe vivacity of 

the F s a discussion 

whicl^ into : as it is 

almos person should 

acqui me, whilst to 

othen fial. He will 

allow cause he hap- 

pens t but the Phila- 

delph iccount of his 

being ia. I observe 

when n one respect 

whict it pervades all 

ranks ;o the Ameri- 

cans by patent righty I cannot say : but cer- 
tainly it is peculiar to the favoured inhabi- 
tants of this happy country : at least we may 
naturally suppose so, by no notice being 
taken of its prevailing in any part of Europe. 
I mean a certain depth of thought — a total 
absorption of ideas — or what many expres- 
sively term a brown studyy that they can 
indulge in at pleasure ; and which seems to 
be the ne plus ultra of all that is delightful, 
as the person at such times is insensible to 
whatever takes place around him — ^no doubt 
he is partaking of such exquisite enjoyment 
within^ that he is really unconscious of what 
passes without: and indeed he appears en- 
tirely astounded, for some time after emerg- 
ing from one of these comfortable doldroms ; 
like a man on leaving a room which is highly 
illij-ninuted, whose eyes are at first incapable 
of^iercing the darkness that envelops him : 
s«-ely it is a very happy faculty, and incal- 
culably convenient, to be able thus to beguile 
the tedious hours that would otherwise pass 
drearily away: and when tormented with 
ennui, to vanish from it into the arms of this 
adhesive friend who is always at their elbow, 
and is a kind of another self j or a better 
half. Thus they riot in all the pleasures a- 
rising from the true '^ feast of reason and the 
flow of soul." They seem as though diey 
were taking a pleasant dip into Lethe's 
stream ; and on coming out are as much 
frighted as Pope's Shepherd, who started • 

amid the sulury wilds to hear 

New falls of water Murmuring in his ear." 

Mankind have for a long while been in 
search of the most complete weapon for kil- 
ling time ; and now the Americans have un- 
doubtedly brought this ino^' necessary ac- 
complishnient to the summit of all possible 
perfection : for by this method they put the 
" winged hours" to &t2i^ rationally : and it 
embraced every convenience that any of the 
other mo<les enjoy. 

One of my first tours afforded me infinite 
amu4cment : for not being as well acquainted 

with the people as I am at present, I was 
particularly entertained with the cM*eles8, 
unconcerned manner, in which they jogged 
on in a kind of dogtrot, heedless of the 
beauties of the country through which they 
passed, as well as totally regardless of what, 
or whom they met ; and even the shrill horn 
of the post-boy was insufficient to call them 
to their sense of existing. This inattention 
is however in some degree remedied by their 
horses' sagacity ; for the discreet animals in 
a very short time get to understand, that }£ 
they are going different ways, one of them 
must turn out : and they have some private 
laws between themselves for their own regu- 
lation in this respect, but I could never ex- 
actly ascertain what they were: it is true 
the hubs in passing, generally strike each 
other, but this does not in the least discom- 
pose the sage within the carriage, who lei- 
surely pursues his course. 

I must confess I felt a little vexed to give 
the whole of the road to all I met : for the 
horses, unless they find themselves obliged 
to «* turn to the right as the law directs," 
will keep straight on. But for the sake of 
expedition, and lest I should run foul of 
some of the good old patriarchs, I made it 
a practice to give them a wide berth : yet 
had some of my city compeers seen me at 
such times, they would have thought I look- 
ed rather sulky : I however endeavoured to 
bear it with as good a grace as' possible ; 
and thinking that it loolyd very churlish and 
unsociable for two human beings to pass 
each other on the highway, perhaps many 
miles from any house, without exchanging 
some kind of salutation — for a horse^ you 
know, wh^n he sees one of his own species 
will neigh to him ; and even if a hog whilst 
rooting perceives a brother swine, he gives 
a grunt — so I say as it had to me such a 
strange appeafance, I ventured just to drop 
a jocose nod to a person as I drove by him : 
but the effect it had upon him completely pre- 
vented me from repeating the experiment — 
poor man ! — I think I see him now ! — ^he 
appeared to be just in the egi-ess from one 
of those pleasing mental cogitations which I 
have been describing ; and was beginning to 
be sensible that he was alive and on the great 
road ; for with mouth and eyes each wide 
open, he regarded me with the closest atten- 
tion. Feeling a sudden glow of good nature, 
I checked my horse to give him tin;e to 
satisfy his curiosity, and allow him to clear 
up his doubts ; as he really appeared to be 
uncertain whether it was /, or my ghost. 
When just abreast of him, I respectfully 
made a s^ght inclination of my head— on 
seeing me move, (for I am now fully con- 
vinced he thought he was contemplating a 
statue), he made such a sudden spring to the 
forepart of his waggon to get another look^ 
that my horse, who had not received as good 
an education as his own, took fright and 
broke the chain of my reflections. 

J. S. 

Alternate society- and solitude make the 
good as^ell as* the great man. 
The loss of time is like that of reputation. 


«« O friendly to the best pursnits of man, 
Friendl/ to thought, to Virtue, and lo jjeaccu" 

How pleasant to the mind which can 
think, is a ramble through the wilderness of 
uncultivated nature ! Shelving rocks, which 
seem to threaten the stream which murmurs 
in their shade, added to the picturesque 
beauty in their vicinity, inspire contempla- 
tions which serve 

• to nurse 

The growing seeds of wisdom; and suggest, 
B7 every pleasing image they present. 
Reflections, such as meliorate the hearty 
Compose the passions, and exalt the mind." 

What thinking mortal can view witlfcut 
admiration the' constellation of beauties ex- 
hibited at the time of sunset by a verdant 
landscape ! Who that feels, can traverse a 
forest which conceals the tuneful inhabitants 
in its branches, without sharing the pleasures 
which inspire their notes ! 

How trifling do all the splendid nothings 
of life appear to the lovers of nature! The 
noise, bustle, and dust of the metropolis 
have no charms for them. The glare of 
artificial grandeur sinks to a point in the 
comparison, and the wealth of th^ citizen 
drops into a contemptible bubble, when com- 
pared to the treasures of a contemplative 

What if the thoughtless and the volatile 
point folly's darts at the lover of solitude I 
Do they not fall pointless at his feet ? 




If you think the following translation of «« Lines 
supposed to have been written by the unfortunate 
and ever to be lamented Marie Antoinette" 
haye merit, you will oblige a friend by inserting 
them in your entertaining paper. 

To bid the world a long farewell, 
To sink in death's eternal sleep-^ 
Why docs this heart with terror swell ? 
Why do these eyes for sorrow weep ? 

In that same moment thousands more. 
Their round of toil and grief shall close ; 
That house of joy shall peace restore. 
There shall the weary find repose. 

For me affliction's mournful child. 
By many a furrow'd feature known. 
Death beckons with an aspect mild, 
And points to a celestial throne. 

For there no more the accusing fiend 
Shall hiss its venom'd slander round, 
But seraphs from their glory bend, 
To soothe with harps of silver sound. 

Then, unsubdued, my soul sliall dare r 

What more of horrors yet remain — 
For the last pang my foes prepare 
Shall give my widow *d lord again. 

Not unsubdued — for, ah ! to leave 
My orphans, victims of their rage ! 
My latest prayer, O heaven receive ! 
Oh, shield from wrong their helpless age ! 

After the execution of the unfortunate Marie Antoi- 
nette, a young man and much loved friend of the 
writer of this article, dipped his handkerchief in her 
blood and pressed it with veneration to his breast. He 
was instantly apprehended and executed— lU fated 
Marie ! thy spirit has winged its flight to a happier 
world! While innocence, sensibility and beauty are 
admired and respected, thou shalt be remembered— 
Never- shall thy sufferings, thy affection for thy chil- 
dren, cr thy fortitude on the scaffold, be forgotten. • 
Bristol, Pen. Nov, 1810. G. 

Digitized by 





Being a man much averse to discord and 
turbulence, I can scarcely describe the ming- 
led emotions, ideas and sensations to which 
my poor weak head is subject, when I meet 
with any thing of this kind either in a proper 
or figurative sense. Now I am a subscriber 
to the RunU Visiter, and what may perhaps 
make me feel the subject rather more, I am 
the author of some precious litde morsels in 
it ; and when it is considered that I am 
really a being liable to errors in opinion, nay, 
even in stule, it need not be wondered at 
that when I see my fellow- fallibles so sadly 
handled, I tremble for my own carcase. Yet 
I fain would believe that my anxiety is not 
solely on my own account ; " Man and his 
cares to me a man^ are decr.^^ 

I cannot help querying with myself at 
times, what can be the -motive, what the ob- 
ject, what the probable effect of this increasing 
exuberance of critical foliage^ which seems 
to rise luxuriantly from every protuberaiit 
blunder of every sapling essay ; so that I 
have doubted whether the Editor would not 
be obliged to add another sheet to his literary 
green-house^ to give room for the effusions 
of tliese sons of genius. 

Before I proceed, I must stop to observe, 
that whether the preceding be simile, allego- 
ry, metaphor, or figure of speech, or whe- 
ther it be compounded of all or any of these, 
or whether it be neither one nor the other, 
to whatever genus it belong, of whatever 
species, sort, kind or quality, J give it abso- 
lutely and without reser\'e into the hands of 
the critics, and I hereby forewarn them that 
I will not defend it, so they may as well let 
it be. If indeed they should think proper to 
applaud it, such " melodious vibrations" the 
pleased ear -will drink xuith silent joy : But 
should they employ the harsher tone of caxHl, 
then *' with mine eyes Pll drink the words^'* 
they send, with Stoic apathy. Here I must 
beg the reader's patience once more, while 
I deprecate the wrath of the critics: lest 
they should charge me with plagiarism, I 
here frankly acknowledge, that the foregoing 
figures of speech are not the native produce 
of my brain, I borrowed them at second 
hand. The reader, if he will take the trouble 
to look, will find them, and others like them 
in the Elements of Criticism, vol. ii. p. 311 

12» where also to ease his doubts, if he 

have any, of their propriety and elegance, he 
will find the folfowing appropriate observa- 
tion : ** That the beauty of the figure depends 
upon the intimacy of the relation between 
the Jtgurative and proper use of the word." 
But to return — What can be the motive for 
those slaps and xvipes (ugly sounds) that are 
dealt witn such apparent asperity at us poor 
• authors ? Is it envy ? It were vanity in us to 
think so — Is it out of pure good will to us 
to correct our errors ? . They must be very 
good, very zealous fojAur improvement — 
so much so that tliey appear to be angry. 
Yet in spite of charity, I cannot think it is 
pure benevolence— it is too warm. If we see 
our neighbour about to engage in some wild 
scheme which is likely to prove detrimental 
to himself alone, we may give him a bix)ther- 

ly warning, but we can keep our tempers — if 
he fail, it will but evince our sagacity. When 
therefore, I see an author displeased at be- 
ing charged with an error, or a critic vexed 
at being contradicted, I must conclude, ".that 
some dormant privilege is thought to be at- 
tacked ; for as no man can lose what he nei- 
ther possesses, nor imagines himself to pos- 
sess, or be defrauded of that to which he has 
no right, it is reasonable to suppose, that those 
who,'* on such occasions, " apparendy think 
themselves injured, must fancy some ancient 
immunity violated or some natural prero- 
gative invaded. To be mistaken, if they 
thought themselves liable to mistake, could 
not be considered as either shameful or won- 
derful/* I might add, that our chagrin at 
the privation of any thing is in proportion to 
the value we set upon it. Alas ! my brethren, 
if tried by this rule, I fear it will appear that 
some of us are more solicitous for the repu- 
tation of our heads than of our hearts. What 
is tlie reason that to be taxed with pride or 
v/ant of charity, is less piquant than the 
slightest implication on our understanding. 

" What is a Pelham's heJid to Pelham's heart ? 
Hearts are proprietors of all applause." 

Perhaps at some future hour of leisure, I 
may pursue this subject further ; at present 
I feel disposed, and probably the reader may 
too, to leave it. L. 


Brevity is very good 

When w'are or are not understood. 


Strange to tell, the above maxim so con- 
formable to truth, and so incontrovertible in 
its nature, has been both in theory and prac- 
tice contradicted by modem wise men. 

^uammulta / ^lam paucis I. was an ex- 
pression used to denote the quantity of mat- 
ter comprised in a few words. Many of my 
acquaintance appear to think that its oppo- 
site, Sluam pauca / ^am multis ! may not 
very improperly be applied to some of your 
ingenious correspondents. 


A person at St. Giles, in the south of 
France, sells annually twenty-four hundred 
barrels of wine, the produce of his own 
ground : he has 50 yoke of oxen, 60 horses, 
ten asses, and twenty-seven hundred sheep, 
eight hundred of which he milks twice a 
day ; some of the milk he sells, adti the 
remainder is made into butter and cheese.—. 
Each ewe gives upp^ an average a half pint 
of milk a day. The care of these sheep 
employs about twenty shepherds and shep- 
herdesses, whose business is to milk them, 
and to shear them in the season, to attend 
them on the neighbouring mountain, and to 
house them at night. Each shepherd has 
his dog, which is so nicely trained as to 
take great part of the care of managing the 
sheep off his mai|er>^ ff his man employs 
one hundred people tfflc whole year, a^Kl at 
I the time of vintage, about two hundred. 



Now stir the fire and close the door; 
The whistling wind is heard to roar, 
And fast descends the flaky show'r» 

Drifting in heaps ; 
The sculking dog, stretch'd on the floor 

Unheeded sleeps. 

Oh, happy ye who hear it storm, 
Securely hous'd, well fed and warm ; ^. 
Who feel no want, nor dread a harm. 

Beside your fires ! 
To you e'en winter wears a charm— 

Ye pai 


At ho] 


Calls i 
For who but likes the news to hear 

That flies abroad \ 
And each as eager will appear. 

Himself t' unload. 

Now states and empires are survcy'd ; 
Their views, resources, scann'd and wcigh'd; 
While chalk*d out armies are displayed 

On either side ; 
This plan is bad, that movement made 

Their fates decidje. , 

Delightful ! thus secure to sit — 
Gen'rals at home— with ease to meet 
The exigence of war or state, 

And <5(uaff brown beer: 
A shattered leg or broken pate 

Ye need not fear. 

Perhaps the neighbVing youth come in 
Presenting now a varied scene, ■ 
All light of heart and gay of mein, 

Though mute by whiles ; 
O'er whom Euphrosyne sits" queen, 

Bedecked in smiles. 

Though grave remark be banish'd hence. 
Yet naught is seen that gives offence ; 
For now their youthful joys commence 

In sjKWtive glee; 
Such mirth constrain'd by innocence 

Has charms for me. 

Your smiles betray a parent's joy ; 
For one has caught your daughter's eye, 
Whose rosy blush of deepest dye. 

Tells what she feels; 
The youth as modest, though less shy, 

His heart reveals. 

And now, when all the rest retise, 
He stays— ye read his fond desire, 
And adding fuel to the fire, 

Bid him good night. 
Alone with all he can admire— 

What sweet delight I 

Heaven smile upon the loving paur! 
Too happy now to dream of care. 
They offer up tli% mutual pray*r, 

Withotrtfti sigh. 
Let no rash freak asunder tear 

The tender tie. 

Say ye, who witness oft such bliss, 
Is winter drear in scenes like this \ ^ 
While crown'd with plenty, health and peace, 

I prize it more. 
Than when the sultry sun's increase, 
Needs the cool show'r. 

N. W 
Burlington, Nov. 1810. 

Digitized by 





We are much indebted to the " Poor 
Pilgrim" for infornring us that " Nights fol- 
low days.** He has probably by this time 
arrived at our antipodes, and feelmg his mind 
and body somewhat fatigued, begins to re- 
pent his undertaking. In this dilemma, he 
remembers only the sunshine of his native 
land; and generously warns all, who find 
themselves possessed of the spirit of wander- 
ing, to take a circuitous route, and thus escape 
that part ( ights follow 

days i** 1 lis journey 

back agai lough " we 

fuid thing e." 

I am ei iome of his 

good adT " noxious 

plants of ' and thus 

avoid the e increasing 

wickednei nights and 

winters, s • more trou- 

ble, thou: ' 

Whetb tie elements 

will try tc e trial does 

not amoi w not ; we 

however accept the latter, " so to be con- 
tent." T. 


^^ these simple rhymes^ intended to instruct 
children oJtwOy three^ four and five years 
of age of their end and duty ^ if committed 
to 'memory by them — are admitted into the 
Rural Visiter ^'>it will please 

A Friend. 


You KG children die. 
In pit holes rot, 
And so must If 
And be forgot. 

Bad children go 
To a place of woe ; 
But good ones rise 
Above the skies : 

Therefore I should 
Be always good 
And very kind. 
To all mankind : 

That when I die. 

And flesh shall lie 
Below the cold damp sod-, 

TVIy soul may fly 

To Christ on high 

Above the sky. 
And dwell in heaven with God. 


fRiBHD Ed. when I sent yoR mj ca^ 
was whimsical— not much in trouble ; 
But bless ine ! with what a /gy face 
You dapt spectacles on to st/ffhublef 

Water gruel with *lauei, is good, 
But pray don't advise me to liquor: 
Your other advice— nticntal food, 
As 1 uUe iti will cure me much quicker. 

Yet thanks to your patience and skill. 
Which from patdon and folly to lure me. 
Have gather*d from timpUi a pill» 
So pletuant and panerfitl to cure me. 
Nov. 1810. LRAHPER. 


FoiBXCN— At £isnach» in Germany, the following 
dreadful accident occurred in September : 

About half past eight o'clock on the evening of the 
1st of September, a French wam>n drawn by nine 
horses, and loaded with 14 cases of powder, cartridges, 
and grenades, arrived at the gates of this city, and 
entered it. It hardly aitived at the market place oppo- 
site one of the inns, when it caught fire with so great 
an explosion, that it was heard at Erfurt, 12 leagues 
distant. In a moment the neighbouring houses were 
on fire: every person who was near them was shat- 
tered' to pieces. The limbs of seven cannoniers, who 
escorted the waggon— 4nd of the horses, were scatter- 
ed in the streets.— Two young married people, who 
were sitting in front of their house, were crushed to 
pieces by an enormous free stone, which the explosion 
hurled upon them. The conflagration lasted until the 
afternoon of the next day, although there were more 
than a hundred pumps at work, and a prodigious 
number of persons assembled from all points to render 
assistance. There are about forty houses burnt. The 
number of persons killed are already known to amount 
to more than fifty.— It is presumed there are more 
than eighty persons mortally wounded or very much 
maimed. The number of families who have lost their 
fortunes is very considerable. 

An account is received that another battle had taken 
place in Portugal the 9th uli. in which the combined 
army claim the victory. We rather incline to think it 

We have seen a letter of the 30th Oct. from a gen- 
tleman in Lisbon, by which it appears, that mercan- 
tile business is g^ing on as usual. There is no mention 
of any late action between the anny under Lord Wel- 
lington and the French, in which the latter have been 
successful. — If such an event had taken place, he 
would probably have related it, as he generally sends 
intelligence of important circumstances. 

The gnmd seignior has issued a prodaqaatSon com- 
plaining bitterly of the faithlessness and injustice of 
the agression of the Russians; and, to exi^ite the zeal 
of the Turks, quotes the fi^llowing from the Xoran : 
** God sayfr to the prophet, assemble the true believers 
for battle round about you: if there are twenty firm 
and brave men, then they will conquer two hundred: 
and if there are a hundred, then they will beat a tho«^ 

The late success of the Turks against the Russians, 
will induce the Russian general to •« tread back his 
steps** across the Danube, and leave the Musselmen to 
*• manage their own affairs in theur owa way," 

In consequence of a note from the French mini- 
ster, insisting on Denmark's observing the Continental 
system, all ships from America, which may be carried 
into Danish ports are to be condemned as enemy's 
property, which have French consular certificates of 
origin on board. 

All the vmes and cotton within 14 miles of Mount 
Vesuvius were destroyed on the 12th September last, 
by a volcanic eruption. The lava in some places is 
said to be 100 feet deep. 

DoMRSTiCi^This day the heads of depart- 
ment meet in general congress, at the seat of govern- 
ment. They are entrusted with affairs involving the 
ten\poral happiness of millions of their feHow men-^ 
may they consider with becoming terioiuneist that they 
are amenable to a tuperior trUntnoL 

Capt. Charlet H, Bernard, of the ship Charleston 
Packet of N. Y. has been guilty by the testification of 
our ConsQl at Rio de Janiero, of the detestable conduct 
of dinotmcing Wm. Lewis, carpenter on board said 
ship, to be a subject of G. Britain; thereby obtaining the 
impression of said Wm JLewis on board the English 
Bng of War, Nancy. The motive to this cruel action 
^na spite,' for the refusal of said Lewis to assist 
Capt. kernard in cruelly flogging* for a trivial offence, 
one of his unfortunate crew* 

Ontario Glast Worh. 

This manufactory, lately erected near the Seneca 
Lake, about three mUes from Geneva, commenced 
making glass on the 29th October, and is now in full 
operation. From its sitvatton, and the superior quality 
of the glass already; made, ihere is no doubt of its 
answering every e3cpdb|on% the stockholders, and 
being an important ac^ffttion to the western country. 

Ontario Jfep, 

A company is about to be formed in the City of 
Washington, for the purpose of exploring the islands 
belonging to the United States in Lake Superior. A 
small party will set out for this object in the spring. 
The geography, history of the soil, and productions, 
inhabitants and their origin, Snimals, Sec. are to be 
examined, together with the connection between Lake 
Superior and Lake Huron. — We ardently wish that 
this enterprize of the *' Exploring company," may be 
crowned with success— that science may acquire new 
spoils, and commerce fresh channels>-if. jAer, 

Died.— In this city on the 1st inst. Mr. Edmard 
Searie, of a consumption. 

—On the 29th ult. at Robins' Monmouth, Sarah Cox, 
relict of Samuel Cox, aged about 60. 
—Lately, in England, William Locke, Esq. of Notbnry 
Park, Surry, a zealous protector of the aits. 
—At Newark, N. J. on the 23rd ult. ef a typhus fe- 
ver, Mr. WiUiain Donaldton, a respectable citizen, aged 
53 years. 

Maerzbd — In Philadelphia, on the ISth ult. h^ 
the Rev. Dr. Blachoell, William Milnar, jmx. Esq. tx> 
Miss Sufan Kiaeelman. 


Amanda*^ cogitations, caused by ** a peep through 
the loop holes of her retreat," appear to have been 
very instructive to hcrsdf ; but we fear they would 
not be very edifying to others. 

In Calebe we can trace no resemblance to our former 
interesting friend of that name — alas ! the fery ordeal 
has pronounced him no Moore. 

Sympatbeticus has long been under consideration; 
but the want of barmony, together with a. susnuaoa 
that it is nor original, has induced the Editor to decide 
against it. 

As Walter has put no head to his piece, we wi^l 
thank him to inform us whether we are to publish u 
as original. 

M. F. Walter^ Eratmus,W. R, Sojourner, A Caroline, 
yemty, and several selections, are received and shall 
be attended to. 

OC^ Our Pbiladelpbia and Trenton Subecribers ^*i!l 
pleate toobtervc^lax after tbia week, the package for 
Trenton will be received at James Oram*s Bookstore ; 
and that for Philadelphia, by James P. Parke, Book- 
seller, No. 75, Chesnut street ; where chey will plea^ 
to call and get them. 

g3** ^^^ following persons^ agents for 
the Rural Visiter^ are authorized to receive 
subscriptions and give receipts on behalf of 
the Editor: fames P. Parke ^ Bookseller .^ No. 
t5y Chesnut St. Philadelphia; Ezra Sargeant^ 
comer of Broadway and Wall Street^ Nnv- 
Tork ; Richard M. Cooper^ Camden ; David 
C*. WoOd^ Woodbury; Thomas Redman^ j^^u 
Haddonfield ; Samuel Coky or Gilbert Pag^-e, 
Moorestoxvn; Alexander Shirass^ Mount- 
Holly; Isaac Carlisle New- Mills ; Charles 
Ijowrence^ Bordentoxvn ; M.i^ f. Simmons^ 
Chesterfield; Daniel Leigh^ Allentoivn; John 
Handley^ Cranberry; James Oram^ Trenton; 
S. Moffordy Princeton; Bernard Smithj N. 
Brunswick ; Simeon Drake^ Amboy ; fames 
Jackson^ Woodbridge; Richard Marshy Rah- 
way; James Chapman^ Efizabeth-Town ; 
Matthias Day^ Newark. Many of these per^ 
sons can also forward communications fcr 
the Rural Visiter safely and free of expense. 


In the Delaware, on the 15th instant, a copper Still. 
The owner may have his property, on due proof, and 
by paying charges, on application to 

Nov. 17 tf Burlington, 

Published Weekly^ by D. Allinson^ 


Prirt t«\'0 Dollars sixty-two Cents fot Volume firsV 
• payable semi-annually in advantc. 

Digitized by 



** Homo mm; htmani nihil a me alienum puto*^ — Man and his cares to mc^ a man^ are dear. 

VOL. I. 


No. 20. 

No. XIX. 

— " Proboft mores docili juvctitit, 
d ate." 


Whether we look into the natund ox* 
moral world, we are every wh6re struck 
with the infinite wisdom and goodness of 
the Deitj'. We behold him in every page 
of Nature's ample work. But when we con- 
sider man, the great master-piece of all ; 
when we contemplate his frame, and eiam"- 
ine the constitution of his nature, his fxcul- 
ties, and various properties — ^we are amized 
—we are constrained to adore that goocness 
and wisdom w^hich formed him such— we 
are obliged to exclaim, " How fearfully and 

wonderfuUy is man made." 1 was led 

into these reflections, by meditating upoa the 
power of Habity or that property of the hu- 
man mind, by which we acquire a facility 
and desire of doing that which we have long 
been accustomed to do. This property was 
implanted in om* nature for wise and good 
purposes. Without it, litde improvement 
could ever be made in the arts that tend to 
the amelioration of this our hnperfect state. 
Nay,' without this principle of action, every 
man would continue, to the endof his days, 
almoist as helpUra^^-nsx-^-chmti 

Bartt was not for this purpose alon<e, that 
Providence endowed us with this quality. It 
was principally intended to aid us In the 
path of virtue, to exaJ.c our n^Tcure, and to 
enable us more and rnore to assimilate our- 
selves to that Being who is perfection and 
happiness itself. 

The mind and body of man bear a strong 
analogy to each other. In infancy, the body 
is helpless and feeble. , and is possessed of 
fewer powers than t'.ae young in the brute 
creation. So also iF/ith respect to the mind. 
We come into th'as world, with compara- 
tively btit few inr jtincts, and apparently with- 
out any powers, of intellect ; we are unable 
to relieve oi\r wants ; we are even uncon- 
scious that we exist. Some philosophers 
have comr j^red tlie human mind in infancy 
to a bto" i^ sheet of paper, which, as our fa- 
culties expand by time, becomes filled with 
ideas , This assertion, when carried to its 
""* extent, is perhaps not quite correct. I 
V ould only remark, that though the human 
'mind in its first state, does not contain 
deas, yet it then possesses all the fuculties 
that it ever will possess j but they have not 
as yet been called into action. And here we 
must adore the goodness of our Great Crea- 
tor, for having given to man all those pow- 
ers that enable him to exalt his nature, and 
at the same time (as man has fallen) for 
bringing him into the world, with a mind 

like a fair blank sheet — ^thus putting it in his 
power to obviate, in a great degree, the fa- 
tal efl^ects that have ensued from the fall of 
man. His mind, at this season of life, be- 
ing yet untainted by vice, he may be reared 
up in habits that will afterwards smooth the 
rugged path that leads to virtue. It is of 
the utmost consequence therefore, that pa- 
rents should, as early as possible, instil into 
the tender mind of a child, such principles 
as they wish him to continue in through life. 
While the twig is yet tender, thtiy may give 
it any direction whatever; and habit steps 
in to aid their exertions. It is easy to turn 
a rivulet out of its natural course ; but the 
channel of a deep and rapid river, who. can 
drj' ? Habit will soon render agreeable what 
at first was hard and disagreeable. Hence 
we see that this property of the human mind 
was intended tq aid us in acquiring virtue, 
and to support us when assailed by the snares 
of vice. But like all other good things, it 
may be perverted ; and when so,, it becomes 
a curse Instead of a blessing. It then serves 
only to quicken our pace in the road to ruin. 
How cautious then ought ure to be in youth, 
while as yet we have but few b3«JL habits, and 
those few not deeply rooted, to avoia «very 
practice that may tend to give us such as art; 
inconsistent with virtue ; and how justly 
alarmed may they be who have already ac- 
quired them. But let such remember, that 
the longer they continue in them, the more 
difficultit will be to get rid of them. Let 
them consider also that one vice opens the 
door for many others to enter. Look^ at 
the aged drunkard — see the habitual gambler 
and debauchee, and read your ovm fate in 
them, if you do not speedily root out all evil 
habits. As you abstain from them, virtuous 
habits will by degrees grow upon 5't)U. Has 
virtue no charms ? Has she no inherent beau- 
ty? The works of darkness have blinded 
your eyes. Get rid of your evirhabits, and 
you will soon discover that " her ways are 
ways "of pleasan^ess, and all her paths are 
peace." Certainly he who cam acquire the 
habit of chewing tobacco and using other 
opiates (things universally unpleasant at 
first) may also acquire habits of virtue. 

Having now shown the neeessity of mak- 
ing good use of this talent that Providence 
has committed to our charge, it may not be 
amiss to point out some fbw habits that youth 
in- particular ought studiously to cultivate. 
I shall therefore address myself to them. In 
the first place, endeavour to acquire all those 
that are commonly called reg^tiar habits. 
By these means your time will be. well spent, 
your health will be preserved, your virtue 
will be unimpaired, and you i^ll acquire "flrn 
honest fame. But to be more particular, 

age witl 
nes$. J 
lifej by 
thipg uf 
the tnin 
you suf 
guisk f( 
upon It 
mind w 
and, wh 
effort to 
will find 
and that 
" when 

irvru Oft&M*A OA 


-ot regarding 
religion with 
in your busi- 
Lir comfort in 
habit of hav- 

5p^ed in some- 
s more upon 
the body. If 
owers tolan- 
ing useful to 
11 soon prey 
the victim of 
)ur powers of 
ticalth decay ; 
: any effectual 
of mind, you 
iturely come, 
aIO pleasure in 


Citizens of Nexv^yersey^ hum your oxvn 

The vast utility of lime as a manure, has 
been ascertained in Pennsylvania, where the 
application of it has in various instances re- 
generated the worn-out soil, and< as it were, 
** maf'.Aj all things new.** But New- Jersey 
having litde of it of her own, hail derived 
bm~RnnaJi J3Qjiejfitfrotn-li«»« ^ ^ manure, be- 
ing a ven' costly and troublesome article to 
transport, and requiring hogsheads for its 
conveyance to atiy distance. 

But is there not an obvious remedy for 
this? Transport the lime in the stone^ and 
bum it at the lafldings, or where most con- 
venient, and the cost may be reduced one 
half, or more. 

The best lime is to be had from the banks 
of the Schuylkill, about 15 miles up the 
Falls. It may be delivered into scows or 
shallops, below the Falls, for one dollar the 
perch, and transported to our shores, say for 
as much more. Each kiln should contain 
1000 bushels, or 50 perches ; each perch con- 
taining 20 bushels lime in the stone, which 
at 200 cents, is 10 cents per bushel delivered 
on the wharf— five cords of pine wood will 
bum the 50 perches, or 1000 bushels, which, 
at 4< dollars the cord, is 2 cents more per 
bushel ; say three cents for other expenses, 
the lime will then cost the burner 15 cents, 
and he may readily sell at douUe cost, (30 
cents) for building or agricultural purposes, 
to a great amount. AGRICOLA. 


■ > Weariness 
Cui snore upon the fiint, when resty sloth. 
FiWs the down pillow hard. 

Digitized by 





^ No. IV. 

Looking over my roll for a subject for 
nvy next number, I kid my hand on the fol- 
lowing piece of poetry. 

My old friend, the Sojourner, appeaijs to 
have been an admirer of the Scottish dialect, 
and of the poetry of Robert Bums, as poetry ^ 
as well as many of his sentiments ; but that 
he was not charmed or astonished out of his 
senses by the syren song, may be presumed 
from the following ; which, though it does 
not mention Burns m particular, has doutjtless 
an allusion to him, as well as to others <^ his 
cast. It is I believe a just regpark^ that the 
public is eventually impai-tial in its aj^pre- 
ciation, both of men and their actions j, like 
the mighty ocean, which, though subject to 
be occasionally lashed by tempest, and par- 
tially thrown into gulphs and billows, will 
rest only in equilibrium. The various emo- 
tions excited by the sudden appearance of an 
extraordinaiy character, especially a litel^rj' 
one, the jealousy of competition, the envy 
of inferiors, the adulation of friends and 
panegyrists, may be considered as a tempo- 
rary storm,, which, as it can only be main- 
tained fay violent efforts, (which are seldom 
dursWe) will gradually subside, and leave the 
public mind in the possession of the perma- 
nent level of truth. May we not infer from 
this, that bad as die world is, the generality 
of mankind prefer truth to error, at least 
when their supposed interests are not imme- 
diatelv concerned. Or to speak more justly, 
that there is in truth, such a beautiful con- 
sistency, such a correspondence of parts, as 
is capable of forcing assent even from ctfe}se 
who are disposed to oppose it. 

With respect indeed to the preservation 
of some bODk3,r-«mdAc ^ownfall oij jidru:^ 
wc must look to a hi^^htr cause : even to the 
decree of an oven-uling providence— wit- 
ness the bible, which, tnough it condemns 
the world, has been handed down through a 
succession of ages, not only unrefutecL but 
gathering confirmation as it goes ; ana bid- 
ding fair to endure to the consummation of 
the world ; while on die other hand, the 
brightest works of the most subtile infidels, 
after having undesignedly contributed their 
mite of confirmation, by urging objec^ns 
which have always been confuted, are gra- 
dually sinking into merited neglect. 

But to return to the humble subject of 
Bums' poems. That these evince a truly 
poetical genius posterity will surely allow ; 
that many of his sentiments are exquisitely 
tender, and breathe a " noble padios" will 
perhaps also be admitted ; on the o^er hand, 
It cannot be denied that many of his pro- 
ductions are vulgar, and even obscene,^ and 
throughout the greater part of his vferks 
may be discovered a self-sufficiency which 
does no honour either to the author's hpart 
or head, and which perhaps might live 
been cured by an acquaintance with Eliza- 
beth Smith. Add to these blemishes, that 
mischievous one of treating the most sacred 
subjects with levity and ridicule ; a propensi- 
ty the more pernicious in its tendency, z%\t 

was connected with many good qualities in 
this witty author. 

Bum^ certaiiily had a high opinion of hig 
own genius; and fiuther, appears to Have 
considered this genius as a sufficient apology 
for numerous irregularities. This idea of 
the necessary connection of talents and irre- 
gularity, notwithstanding the numerous in- 
stances of first rate genius which might be 
brought to expose its futility, appears to have 
gainedlcxj much credit with the world, which 
has been as much die dupe of stilted genius 
as of hooded superstition ; and if I mistake 
not, it has well nigh turned the heads of not a 
few of. his humble admirers, who in point 
of real geniua are not worthy to loose the 
latchet of lus shoes. 



Ip wisdom lies m length of days, 

Or in a furrowed forehead, 
Attend, ye quills, my parting lays, 

For I wi* baiih am scored. 

Of days nine score, and more hae gone^ 

Since I my service granted, 
In business, fViendship, and so on, 

Whatc'er my master wanted. 

And though I hae not plunged deep, 

In philosophic searches. 
Nor kept the drowsy world frae sleep» 

Wi' genius* flaming torches. 

One thing I've treasuied up in store. 

Which may be worth imparting s 
Then heed ye weel a brither's kinS, 

That must be shortly startmg* 

Wc find that pens in ev 'ry age 

Hae made a deal o* clatter ; . . 
An books on books yt-b*-ps arc laid. 

On *v«ry sub>«^^atter. 

You^^iifi£| to see this learned pile^ 

-^iin themes weie nigh exhausted i 

And that we pent before long wfa^e 

Would be despised and wasted. 

But truly if yc canna mend 

Vour predecessors* usage. 
Ye need na grieve if ye suspend, 

To^copy their abusagc? 

Full mony a sBiidng famous bard 

Wi' bays an laurels wrcathit, 
Had better claim*d mankind's regard^ 

If he had merely breathit 

His time away. 

They make so light of decency, 

Of virtue, and of order, 
'Twere pity that they found a pen 

To be their rhymes' recorder. 

But what is e'en yet worse an worse. 

Their servile panegyrists, 
As if they would ensure the curse, 

Hae lauded high their genius ; 

And told the world wi' shamdess face, 

•Twas overflowing fulness; 
And e'en charg'd all the sobrerrace 

Wi' " foUy" and wi' «* dulncss." 

Thus has the noble use of pens 

Been vilely prostituted; 
And much of what the good hae done 

Been eagerly frustrate 

Then henceforth may thai deadly fend^ 
The /ove offoTne, daert you .• 
• So may your every labour tend 
To usefulness and virtue. 

And now I make my last request. 

And may it weel be heeded; 
Think not it is a trifling thing. 

Or that it b not needed. 

* This pen had done <lf thd author's writing for six 

•TIs this ; how^r just your cause, 

Beware of being violent } 
Apd och ! when ye hae nought to say, 

' Be silent. 

tnE^fdlowing Essay is from the pen of 
DaVid Hume, Esq. and bear^ the stamp of 
genius. The style is chaste, nervous, and 
conect, and every way deserving of the acute 
autlor of the History of Engtend* How- 
evei we may dissent from the opinions of 
Hutie on questions respecting religion— 
hoMJever strong may be our abhorrence and 
det^tation of them- our strong and decided 
repKhension of those doctrines so inconsist- 
ent,!absurd and inmioral, will never prevent 
biRNvlelding the just tribute of praise, which 
somt portions of his works Can never fail to 
extent from the most orthodox christian. 
Tliil Essay, and two or three more in the 
pos^ssion of the Editor, are entitled to at- 
tention on another account, as matter of 
curbsity ; they prove how entirely diflferenf 
are he opinions of the same author, where 
the) are not produced by the same motives* 
airnie, when endeavouring to simport 
his irrational hypotheses, is diametrically 
opposed to himself on some other subjects. 
Th«( reason is obvious ; in the one case, he 
is labouring to prove the fallacy of what 
eveir man in his senses must consider as 
b^4nd the possibility of a doubt ; in the 
other, he appears a pr9u:tical sound reasonen 
And when a man proceeds upon grounds so 
opo^ite, his opinions must chish* 

These essays it is believed, are little kno\7n 
in this country; and the Editor trusts they 
will be considered as valuable by the oppo- 
sers of D, Hume^s visionary and sceptical 
writings, as by his implicit admirers. Wc 
may t^i ^" ' ■ '" ^V Aacclaini^ 

'« O si sic omnia dixisset." ' 


" There is nothing which I would recom* 
mend more earnestly to my female readers 
than the study of histoiy ; as an occupation, 
of all others, the best suited both to their sex 
and education, much more instructive than 
their ordinary books of amusen^ent, and more 
entertaining than those serious compositions, 
which are usually to be found in their closets. 
Among other important truths, which they 
may learn from history, they may be in- 
formed of two particulars, the knowledge of 
which may coiittribute very much to their 
quiet and repose. That our sex, as well as 
dieirs, are far from being such perfect crea- 
tures as they are apt to imagine, . and that 
love is not the only passion which governs 
the male world, but is often overcome by 
avarice, ambition, vanity, and a thousand 
other passions. Whether they be the felse 
representations of mankind in those two pais- 
ticulars^ which endear novels and romances 
so much to the fair sex, I know not ; but 
must confess, that I am sorry to see them 
have such an aversion to matter of fact, and 
such an appetite for falsehood. I remember 
I was once desired by a young beauty, for 
whom I had some passion, to send her some 
novels and romances for her amus^nent to 

Digitized by 



the country ; but was not so ungenerous as 
to take the advantage, which such a course 
of reading might have given me, being re- 
solved not to make use of poisoned arms 
against her. I therefore sent her Plutarch's 
Lives, assuring her at the same time, that 
there was not a word of truth in them from 
begtnoipg to end. She perused them very 
attentively, till she came to the lives (rf Alex- 
ander and Cseftar, whose names she had 
heard of by accident, and tlien returned me 
the book, with many reproaches for deceiv- 
ing her. .^ 
. I may indeed be told, that the hit sex 
have no such aversion to history, as I have 
represented, provided it be secret histoiy, 
and contain some memorable transaction 
proper to excite their curiosity. But as I do 
not find that truth, which is the basis of 
history, is at all regai'ded in these anecdotes, 
I cannot admit of this as a proof of their 

Eassion for that study* However this may 
e, I see not why the same curiosity might 
not receive a more proper direction, and 
lead them to desire accounts of tliosewho 
lived in past ages, as well as of their cotem- 
poraries. What is it to Clepra, whether 
Fulvia entertains a secret commerce of love 
with Philander, or not ? Has she not ,cqual 
reason to be pleased, when she is informed 
fwhat is whispered about among historians) 
that Cato^s sister had an intrigue with Qesar, 
and palmed her son, Marcus Brutus, upon 
her husband for his ow|), though in reality 
he was her gallant'a? And are not the loves 
of Messalina or Jiilia, as proper subjects of 
discourse as any intrigue that this city has 
produced of late years ? 

But I know not whence it comes, that I 
have been thus seduced into a kind of rail- 
lery against the ladies_uii»****T-r***Hips, it 
proce^di-fr^n 'tlM acunc cause, which inakcs 
the person who is the favourite of the com- 
pany, be often the object of their good-na- 
tured jests and pleasantries. We are pleased 
to address ourselves after any manner to one 
who is agreeable to us, and at the same time 
{»-esume that nothing will be taken amiss 
by a person, who is seciu-e of the good 
opinion and affections of every one present. 
I shall now proceed to handle my subject 
more seriously, and shall point out me many 
advantages which flow from the study of 
histOrj', and shew how well suited it is to 
every one, but particularly to those who are 
debarred the severer studies, by the tender- 
ness of their complexion, and the weakness 
of their education; The advantages found 
in history seem to be of three kinds ; as it 
amuses die fancy, as it improves the imder- 
standing, and as it strengthens virtue. 

In reality, what more agreeable entertain- 
ment to the mind, than to be transported 
into the remotest ages of the world, and to 
observe human society, in its infancy, mak- 
ing the first faint essays towards the arts and 
sciences : to see the policy of government, 
and the civility of conversation refining by 
degrees, and everything which is ornamental 
to human life advancing towards its perfec- 
tion. To remark the rise, progress, declen- 
sion, and linal extinction of the most flour- 
ishing empires ; the virtues which contribut- 

ed to their greatness, and the vices which 
drew on their ruin. In short, to see all the 
human race, from the beginning of time, 
pass as it were, in review before us ; appear- 
ing indieir true colours, without any of those 
disguises which, din-ing their lifetime, so 
much perplexed the judgment of the behold- 
ers. What spectacle can be imagined so 
magnificient, so various, so interesting? 
What amusement, either of the senses or 
imagination, can be comp^ed with it ? Shall 
those trifling pastimes, which engross so 
much of our time, be preferred as more sat- 
isfactory, and more fit to engage our atten- 
tion ? How perverse must that taste be, which 
is capable of so wrong a choice of pleasures ! 
. But history is a most improving part of 
knowledge, as well as an agreeable amuse- 
ment ; and a great part of what we commonly 
call erudition, and value so highly, is nothing 
but an acquaintance with historical facts. An 
extensive knowledge of this kind belongs to 
men of letters : but I must think it an un- 
pardonable ignorance in persons, of whatever 
sex or condition, not to be acquainted with 
the history of their own countrj-, together 
with the histories of ancient Greece and 
Rome« A woman may behave herself with 
good manners, and have even some vivacity 
in her turn of wit ; but where her mind is so 
unfurnished, it is impossible her conversa- 
tion can afibrd any entertainment to tnen of 
sense and reflection. * 

I must add, that history is not only a valu- 
able part of knowledge, but opens die door 
to many other p«rtq^ and affords materials to 
most of the sciences. A«v^, indeed, if we 
consider the shortness of huma.^ life, and 
our limited knowledge even of what pte«es 
in our own time, we must be sensible that 
we should be for ever children in under- 
standing, were it not for this invention, which 
extends our experience to all past ages, and 
to the most distant nations ; making them 
contribute as much to x>nT impro\'ement in 
wisdom, as if they had actually lain under 
our observation. A man acquainted with 
history niay, in some respect, be said to 
have lived irom die beginning of die world, 
and to have been making continual additions 
to his stock of knowledge in every century. 

There is also an advantage in Uiat experi- 
ence which is acquired by histoty, above 
what is learned by the practice of the world, 
that it brings us acquamted with human af- 
fairs, without diminishing in the least from 
the most delicate sentiments of virtue. And 
to tell die truth, I know not any study or 
occupation so unexceptionable as history in 
this particular. Poets can paint virtue in the 
most charming colours ; but as they address 
themselves entirely to the passions, they 
often become advocates for vice. Even phi- 
losophers are apt to bewilder themselves in 
the subtility of their speculations ; and we 
have seen some go so fai- as to deny die reali- 
ty of all moral distinctions."^ But I think it 
a remark worth the attention of the specula- 
tive, that the historians have been, almost 
without exception, the true friends of virtue, 

* Had the author adduced instances of the truth of 
Ihis assertion^ with how much propriety might bis 
own name have headed the c»ta!oguf . 

and have always represented it in im proper 
colours, however they may have erred in 
their jud^ents of particular persons. Ma- 
chiavel himself dncovers a true sentiment of 
virtue in his history of Florence. Wheri he 
talks as a politician, in his general reasonings, 
he considers poisoning, assassination, and 

Eeijury, as lawful arts of power j but when 
e ftpeaks as an historian, in his particular 
naitations, he shews so keen an indignation 
a^;ainst vice, and so warm an approbation of 
virtue in many passages, that I could not 
forbear apjplyiii^g to him that remark of Ho- 
race, that if you chace away nature, though 
with ever so great indignity, she will always 
return upon you. Nor is this combination 
of historians in favour of virtue, at all diffi- 
cult to be accounted for. When a man of 
business enters into life and action, he is 
more apt to consider the characters of men, 
as they have^relation to his interest, ihan as 
they stand in themselves ; and has his judg- 
ment warped on every occasion by the vio- 
lence of his passion. When a philosopher 
contemplates cliaracters and manners in his 
closet, the general abstract view of the objects 
leaves the mind so cold and unmoved, that 
the sentiments of nature have no room to 
play, and he scarce feels the difference be- 
tween vice and virtue. History keeps in a 
just medium between these extremes, and 
places the objects in their true point of view. 
The writers of history, as well as the readers, 
are sufficiendy interested in the characters 
and events, to have a fively sentiment of 
blame or praise ; and, at the same time, have 
no particular interest or concern to pervert 
their judgment. 

Vend voces turn demura pec^re ab Imo 

1P6& taE ftVKAL VXStTkiL 



Ah, thou sweet innocent ! whose eariy dty. 
Misfortune shrouded cheerless and forlorn! 

Sad were the auspices whose languid ray 
Gleam'd on the hapless hour when thou wasfbom. 

Jifo tender father gaz*d with fondest care, 
Or|>our*d forth blessings on thy infant head, 

Caug^it from thy mother's glist'nmg eye the tear. 
Which love and sympathy and rapture shed. 

Thoughtless of care and ignorant of iH^ 
So({ peace and innocence and ease are thine 1 

Sweet thou can*st sleep! while fondly gazing still, 
Tafeel, to suffer, to regret, are mine. 

Oh, vrhile I hold thee to my widow'd breast, 
V/)\9X keen sensations lise and mingle there ! 

FainS^ould the sigh of angu'ish be supprest. 
In the soft fondness of maternal care. 

For blest be Heaven who heard my ardent pray'r, 
SpaiM thy dear life, and gave thee to my arms. 

Gave n^ thy smiles the londy hours to cheer, 
When cv'ry earthly joy had lost its charms. 

Still sweetly smile upon thy mother's tears, 
Thou dear loved image of her better part ! 

And never may the woes, ^ pangfid fears 
Which pant in hers, invade thy peaceful heart. 

To the virtuous nian or wonitn, home is the mos* 
splendid mansion. 

Digitized by 


96 . 



Mr. Editor J 

In a famous Utopian town, where I once 
Ufas whilst young and on my travels, they 
had a singular society, which I would furo- 
pose to your fellow citizens in BurKngtx>ii as 
a model fcr ITniteti'^V It was called " The 
Shutting-door Society.'* It commenced ItS 
sittings the 1st day of October, and closed 
in the spring according to the temperance 
of the weamer. It consisted* of a great 
number of members : for its plan, regula- 
tions, and objects were so attractive, that 
people flocked ^ fouie to enrol their names. 
The great attraction wasj a supper which 
was given weekly during the time that the 
society was declared to be in session. Here 
all the dainties of luxury were spread, the 
Indies poured in their fruits and spices, and 
the wine presses laboured to express the 
purple liquid which these shuttbg-door vo- 
taries consumed in such sd>undance. 

Thev ate and drank in a large and magni- 
ficent iHall, to the sounds of a variety of 
music. In this extensive room, there was 
no aj^rture— ^no portico — nor wmdow— nor 
chimney. The only entrance was a^ trap 
door at the top of the dome ; for the building 
was a rotunda composed of but one hall. 
Throurii this the members entci^d and re- 
tired. They were received by a seat attached 
to a lever which turned on a* pivot, and land- 
ed its burden either m the dome or the area 
surrounding the building, according as the 
subject wished entrance or egress. The ex- 
penses of all these entertainments, and of 
repairs to the building, &c. were defrayed 
by subscription. And most cheerfully Jid^^ 
the inhabitants of Donderdrickdunkenfiorffe^ 
which was ttae^-ij^rndfll the town, appf?*"^ 
the expenses of their luxurious revels; for 
it was calculated that since the institution of 
the society, agues, cou^jflfs, colds, frozen^ 
fingers, &c &c. &c. had decreased in the 
ratio of 1 1 7 to 1 . That the quantity of wood 
consumed was one thiird less than formerly 

^that the troubles consequent cm making 

fires and shivering, had dimmished tcwn 
eighths— <hat time was one third xnore plen- 
ty — ^that the profit accruing on the. occupa- 
tion of it in various manufactures was very 
considerable — and that this clear gain added 
to the saving in the quantum of fuel con- 
sumed, enabled the citizens not only to sup- 
port the usual subscription, but to lay by a 
handsome Utde sum for the wane of life and 
helplessness of old age. These were the 
happy changes which the poor and middle 
classes recounted. And as to the rich aa4 
noble, diey enjoyed the value of theii* sub- 
scriptions in snugnessittid real comfort. 

There was but one rule to which the,sh^t- 
ting-door members were subjected. To ob- 
serve this, they bound themselves by a most 
solemn asseveration. It was " To keep every 
thing shut which it was not necessary to 
leave open." They generally kept their eyes 
shut. 'They always sat with them closed at 
their feasts, and si^stituted the sense of feel- 
ing in its stead. At night they stopped up 
their ears : but being by the nature of their 
association of a social and facetious turn, 

they left them open in the hours of inter- 
course. The nose was almost the only mem- 
ber that was not somehow or other affected 
by their enthusiastic compliance with this 
unique law ; and the proud nasal organ was 
so elated by being a distinguished feature 
that.maintained his dignity unmoved^—** as 
rocks resist the billows and the sky," that he 
was often heard to ejaculate statu quo by way 
ot triiuHph. Th?^«^wth^*5 also close when- 
ever it was possible to steal a moment from 
their characteristic glee, and have it so. Ve- 

S often a poor laugh was shameftilly tortured 
ere, and like Sterne's starling exclaimed in 
piteous terms — *'^ I can't get out," — ^for it tad 
too much pride to retreat through the emunc- 
tories. It has been conjectured that had it 
not been for the inspiring and praiseworthy 
occupations of eating and drinking, thie 
mouths would have been kept constantly 
shut, and the members of the club Would 
have become the greatest churls on earth. 
The explanation of the rule was g^ven to 
each member when he was enrolled. This 
also was unique. It was, that he was al- 
ways to shut the door through which he 
passed. And though there w«rc a thou- 
sand followers he was stiU to shut it when 
he passed through. If his train Were mem- 
bers, each one was obliged to open and 
shut the door for himselil Such was the 
nature of the famous shutting-door society 
of Donderdrickdunkenhorffe. Notwith- 
standing they sometimes kept their .moutfis 
and eyes shut, the membet^ 'w^ere the most 
merry, humorous^^«Ows in the world. They 
had bujL^*^"^^ to comply with. Except 
tlpp-ow^ation, membership " was liberty, 
^nd nature law." 




Written by binueffl 

Nat viLB first form'd me with peculiar care, 
And summer fann'<d me with her softest air; 
Braced with new life I hail*d the genial spring. 
That breatb*d fresh vigour on my silken wing, 
'And led me genUy on, and bade me roam 
From the safe precincts of my native honne. 
To view the worid,. and in my active day. 
To sip the sweets that cross my devious way; 
There. tow'ring man — sublime in awful size, 
Caught the first glances of my wond'ring eyes : 
-I saw him seek the metsor Fame alolie, 
A passion simple flies have never known; 
This ruling principle of girU and Aingt, 
Some seek in great, and some in meaner things. 

A swarm of flies had lur'd me from afar» 
Tliat busy travelled round a china jar? 
1' join'd the band that thtis luxurious f ar'd 
■On the sweet river Anna's hand prepar'd : 
The poliah'd cherries rose— her secret fiidc 
Like moving islands in the crimson tide; 
On the sweet margin cautious first 1 ^tood. 
Then plung'd, to taste it, in the lusciQiis flood. 
Axma— whose cheek, the cause of many 4t sigh. 
The barb'rous fire had given a deeper die— 
With paper came to dote my liquid tomb. 
And look relentless on my early doom ; 
While yet life Hngcr'd on a trembling string, 
She saw it flutter in my weary wing, 
Unpityingsaw the struggle almosto'er. 
And dragged me senseless to the welcome shore. 
To taste with caution ev^y dangerous tweet 
I rose resolv'd— and stroVd my trembling feet. 
Led by my guiding star, < quickly join'd 
A crowd where statesmen, eailors, poets dmM 5 
Tir'd with my flight, I stopt to rest mepow. 
Securely on the politician's bro\y». 

Who talk'd 6i Ubcrty--of freedom V land. 

And msp'd me captive in his iron hand; 

Hare long secluded from the light of day, 

In my close prison hopeless still I lay; 

As still he spoke, and eloquently led 

The li6t*ning crowd— applauding all he said, 

To aid the cause his hand extending rais'd, 

And I e^cap'd— while yet the poet prais*df 

Alighting soon, to hear what next might pass^ 

On the bright margin of a sparkiiiig ^ass^ 

Sarpriz'd I saw-^as other objects &^«;^ 

Myself reflected in the rosy wixwt'^ 

Here as I eaz'd, the daizlvTig wave to sip, 

The s^n of Neptune riU'd me to his lip; 

His converse r^s^^jh, had taught me to foresee 

No h^v*?..oom pity in his stem decree. 

Yet oi the brink of fate he kinifly led 

My ei^^ing footsteps to a safer bed. 

And ampoth'd "my dripping wing with nkest art, 

And hand as gentle asi Yds feeling heart. 

As ttm I roam, misfortunes still ptirsue, 
No sate retreat had met my eager view. 

NeJtt on an author, unobserved I came, 
Devottly kneeling at the shrine of Fame : 
Abso4>'d in thought he sat— nor saw me seek 
To reit my wearied limbs i^on his cheek ; 
And ss I yc^ had leisure to survey 
A va^ extended paper as it lay, 
1 saw the scribbler's literary dream, 
" Teviper's best government," his mighty theme; 
Here^ I exclaim 'd, and boldly ventured on, 
Here rm at least secure, and here alone ; 
Delu^ve hope ! the author sternly frowned. 
And Instant dash'd me, headlong to the ground; 
Manned and tpm, the victim of despaur, 
Whei most I hop'd to find protecting care. 

While yet vfiy wings weie left, resolv*d to soar. 
And trust the busy haunts of men no more ; 
Coniiftnc*d by past experience, deariv bought. 
Their piactke differed from the truths they taught 

To the Editor of the Rural Visiter. 

I HOPE you will not charge me with itn- 
peitmetiiC«k,ontciQ^eat a share of what some- 
times is t^rmta umocent ^oUnemr^^^^ faive 
been led both by your professions and senti- 
ments viva voce, to believe you favourable 
for young ladies' endeavours to improve 
their sd)ilities, or rather, acquiring by prac- 
tical experiment a capacity to express their 
ideas on paper. 

From a train of reflections I was led to, 
by some late remarks of yours on this subject, 
to which I was privy ; I am more inclined 
than ever to acknowledge it important and 
well worthy attenGon to our sex : but 

'^ How fair each form in youthful fancy *s eyes, 
Jtttt like the tender flowers of blooming May; 
Like them in all their beauty they arise ; 
-Like them they fade, and sudden die away. 
We mourn their loss, and wish their longer stay I 
B ut all in vain*" 

If, Mn Editor, my small effort should 
merit notice, or can in vour opinion have an 
eflfect to encourage other young ladies to 
dress up an idea suitably to go a visiting, I 
cannot resist my indination to make it the 
hand maid of some beautiful sentiments ex- 
tracted from one of Mrs. H. Bowdler's Let- 
ters to a young lady of fifteen, who became 
an ornament to her sex. 

I would not to you make the remark, that 
this writer*s supereminent attainments mud 
have been the effect of a concern to impro^^ 
the aniiable dispositions ;md talents \vith 
which she was entrusted ; but, as n\any piirls 
of her writings sufficiently establish- her ur- 

Digitized by 





cDinmonly literary attainments. The follow- 
ing sentiments^ prove that her studies were 
rendered consonant to the strictest regard 
aiifl concern for her more important inte- 

*' At our entrance into life, (by which I 
mean the period which follows the total de- 
pend ance of childhood), it is necessary to 
obtain a just idea of our own character, and 
of our particular duties. Nobody is so per- 
fect as not to have a tendency to some fault. 
Pride, passion, fretfulness, obstinacy, indo- 
lence, and many other failings, are perhaps 
born with us, and whoever has not discover- 
ed one or more of these in his heart, certain- 
ly does not know himself. Let us then, as 
the first step towards wisdom and virtue, 
carefully study our own character, and deter- 
mine where our principal danger lies ; and 
remember, as my beloved sister observes, 
tliat * he who \\\\^ discovered a fault in his 
character, and entreated God's assistance to 
conquer it, has engaged Omnipotence on his 

" Th^ next point to be considered is our 
particular situation, and the duiies it re- 
quires. It is vain to suppose we could do 
better in different circumstances, or to think 
that our imaginary merits will cover our real 
faults ; we are not to choose our own part in 
life, but to act properly that which is assign- 
ed to us. What aie my particular duties ? 
Hov/ can T best sc rve God \ How can I most 
contribute to tbi- happiness of those with 
vvhoifr I am connected ? How can I employ 
tny time and my tJilents to the l>est advantage I 
What are the errors into which I am most 
I ikely to fall ? Do I hart those whom I am 
jTiost bound to please, by pride, peevishness, 
or contempt ; or do I make them happy by 
constant kindness, gentleness, and long-suf- 
fering ? These are questions which every 
human being should ask his own heart; and 
which onl}' his OAvn heait can answer. From 
an examination of this kind, I should wish 
every one who really aims at christian per- 
fection, to make out in \iTiting a plan of life 
suited to his particular situation and charac- 
ter, and resolutely determine to act up to it. 
This requires time and reflection : but this 
once done, our task will be much easier 
aftcrwj^rds. A few minutes every night 
should be spent in considering how far we 
have conformed to that plan through the day, 
which I think is most easily discovered by 
considering how the day has been spent ; for 
every thing, be it ever so trifling, if it is to 
be done at all, may be done well or iz/.-r-Did 
I attend to my devotions in the morning ? 
Have I done good, or contributed to the 
happiness of others ; or have I given pain to 
any human being by unkindnessrHave Ibeen 
surprised by those faults, whatever they are, 
which I have most reason to dread ; or have 
I carefully avoided them ? — Such questions 
constantly asked, and impartially answered, 
will prevent our acquiring wrong habits ; 
and nothing is imconqiierable^ which is not 
habitual* Bishop Andrews says, ' sleep is 
so like death, that I dare not venture on it 
without prayer j* and I think it would be well 
if we considered it in that light, and made 
our peace v/ith God at the end of every day, I 

as if it were the last we should enjoy. I am 
sure the habit of doing this would gready 
lessen the horrors of that awful period, when 
we must make up our accounts, however 
painful it may be to us. When habit has 
made this easy, little more will be necessary 
to guard us against that self-deceit which is 
our most dangerous enemy ; but at stated 
times, as at the beginning of every year, and 
when we intend to receive the Sacrament, it 
will be useful to take a general review of our 

East life, and compare it with the plan we 
ad determined to pursue, in order to see 
how far wc have kept the good resolutions 
we had formed, and in what respect it is 
most necessary to guard our future conduct. 
" Perhaps, my dear yoimg friend, I have 
said nothing which your own good sense 
would not point out to you much better than 
I am capable of doing it, and I have taken a 
liberty for which I can only plead the advan- 
tage which very nK>derate talents must gain 
from experience. I have lived longer in the 
world than you, and have felt the ill effects 
of many error* which I hope you will avoid ; 
but I have also sometimes felt the good effects 
of those principles, and that line of conduct, 
which I wish to recommend to you, and in 
which I trust Providence will guide you to 
eternal happiness." 

I am sir, respectfully yours, 

No- IV. 

Justin Martyr (Apol. 2.) says, " Christ 
was partially known to Socrates. For Logoff 
tlie reason and the word, was and is existing 
in all.'* Socrates appears to have had ideas 
of the new Jerusalem mentioned in the Apo- 
calypse, ch. xxi. whose commencement may 
be dated at the baptizing effusion of the Holy 
Spirit on the apostles, as related in Acts. 
Then the saints held ^ things in a commu- 
nity ; and continued to do so during the 
reign often emperors. Cekus, in Origen's 
time, charged them widi refusing to fight for 
the empire. " True, replied Origen, chris- 
tians cannot fight ; yet are they more useful 
to their coimtry, than others ; because they 
teach their fellow citizens to worship God 
truly and piously j causing such as have lived 
well in these little cities, to go into a heaven- 
ly city. Isa. xxvi. 10. Among us, such as 
are good governors, are constrained to their 
oflice by the great King, whom we believe to 
be the Son of God ; God the Word. And 
such as under God govern the community 
well, that is, in the churches— ^they goveni 
by the lavrs and commands of God ; and 
strive to induce those who are immediately 
under their care and notice, to a daily walk- 
ing in holiness," &c. Origen against War, b. 

Socrates appears to have foreseen a city of 
this sort, a society founded on the love of 
God, and of our neighbours. In this society, 
Plato in his republic, book v. informs us, the 
chief magistrates shall be called Saviours and 
Helpers* '* For good men are the walls of 
a citj% And whereasy in other cities, are 

such as arc called, lords^ regents^ or mh- 
governors ; here they shall be called, fellorir 
rvatchmen, and helpers. They shall not un- 
dertake their ofiice as a thing of profit and 
honour to themselves, but of absolute neces- 
sity. They shall fix the eye of their soul 
with their utmost strength and endeavoiu-, 
stedfasdy on him, who affords light to all. 
And beholdmg the sovereign good they shall 
take him for a pattern, and spend the re- 
mainder of their lives mosdy instructing 
others in the knowledge of the truth." 

To a friend, who despaired of seeing such 
a city, Socrates replied,^ " That an exact 
model of it existed in heaven, and was to be 
seen by him that had a mind to it : and that 
when seen, he might dwell therein himself." 
Plato's Rep. b. xix. 

Xenophon, in his memorable sayings of 
Socrates, b. i. says, " He never promised anv 
man to teach him to be virtuous j for he 
freely acknowledged, that a damon, or good 
spirit, was his monitor. For which reason 
he M'ould accept no pay from any that 
desired to confer with him^ and even won- 
dered why any man who taught virtue, 
should ask money. He beheld with con- 
tempt, all the subdeties of human prudence, 
when he compared them to divine inspira- 

In conversation with Antiphon, he said, 
" If I am not greedy or desirous of dainties, 
or luxuries, it is because I spend my time 
more delightfully in things, whose {Measure 
ends not in the moment of their enjoyment : 
and which, moreover, induce me to hope to 
receive an everlasting reward. Dost thou 
think Anti^ion, that a satisfaction from any 
thing whatever can proceed like that from 
believing wc dailjr improve in virtue?" I 
confess, said Antiphon, thou art an honest 
and well inteutioned maa : but certainly thou 
knowest nothing : and one would think thou 
acknowledgest it by receiving nothing for 
thy teaching. Thou who wilt not part with 
thy house or doak^for less than their value, 
wouldst be paid for thy conversations, if 
thou thought them worth any thing. To 
which Socrates answered, " Between beauty 
and the doctrine of the true philosophers, is 
a great resemblance ; so^that what is lauda- 
ble in one, is so in the other. Both also are 
subject to the same vice ; for if a woman 
sell her beauty for money, we immediately 
call her a prostitute. But if she knows a 
man of dignity and worth enamoured of her, 
and she makes him her friend, we say she is 
a prudent woman. It is just the same with 
the doctrine of philosophers : they who sell 
kit are sophists^ and are like prostitutes^ But 
a philosopher teaches a youth all the good he 
'knows to obtain his friendship : and we be- 
lieve we have made a great improvement, 
when we have learned to love one another." 

He said, that if a man desires to accom- 

!>lish any thing by force, he must have many 
riends to assist him : but he that can per- 
suade has no occasion for any ; and is not 
liable to shed blood. For they whom 
we have compelled, brood over a secret 
hatred against us ; but those whom we have 
taken thetrouUeto persuade, continue our 

Digitized by 






Through the medium of your paper, 
Mr. Editor, I received the half letter of 
advice from my great grand uncle, and as 
I have the highest reverence for the instruc- 
tions of the aged, I have dius far implicidy 
followed his directions : when I first deter- 
mined to visit the city, it was feariess 5 for 
I thought such a humble creature as I, might 
seek amusement and pass unnoticed ; but 
my fond great grjqid imde, with his tottering 
limbs and failing senses^ has given me very 
difiFerent ideas, and set my simple heart and 
head wild. As I take all the good gentle- 
man's words for gvspei and prophecy, I ex- 
pected certainly to find company at my cou- 
sin^s when I arrived, and had your paper 
nicely folded up in my indispensible, thSit I 
might oh any emergency apply to it for direc- 
tions ; and had been thinking over all the 
books I ever read to prepare for the literati — 
had committed to memory Miss Owenson's 
most sentimental sentences^ that I might 
say them, as my own; bad tried at Lady 
Randolph's speech, and was quite mistress 
of some of Kosalie's : fixed and refixed my 
hat according to every one I met, that I 
might be fashionable, and thus all prepared, 
in breathless agitation was ushered into my 
cousin's parlour. But what was my disap- 
pointment to find Mn and Mrs. A— seat- 
ed at their table with their children only ! 
They had waited some time for me, and 
were just seated. 

As it was later than my usual dining hour, 
my appetite was somewhat sharpened, and 
cousin knowing my coontiy habits, helped 
me fientifully. I wa& just taking my 
knife and fork in hand, when in that actioii 
I touched my bag, rattled your paper, re- 
membered my great grand nnde'is advice, 
and asked for a potatoe and salt 5 and all my 
cousin's entreaties could not prevsdl on me * 
to eat more than' one piece of p}'e and thr^e . 
strawberries ; and I was very glad to get to 
my room that I might apply to the remaiaiBg .; 
biscuit, of the store my kind mother had 
provided me with, to eat during my voyage. ' 
The next morning my cousin took me to 
see some of my relations ; but we had no * 
beau and rattan, she had on no rug, and I j 
heard not one word of scandal. When I ; 
came home, according to directions would . 
not take off my riding habit^ and by that 
means took a bad cold when I changed it for 
athin dress in the evening. ^ ; 

Here I hstve now been three weeks, anxr-| 
ously waiting for the other half of my letter, | 
but it comes not, and I am growing qmte 
holloMT cheeked on my potatoe and sw; and 
unless I soon get fresh instruction, shall be 
obliged to return to my parents, grandmaaia^ 
uncks and aunts, whbm I vim sure will tdie 
pity on their poor 


oif r«E oRiom OP spminss. 

NeW'Haven Oct. 25. 

The annual meeting of the Connecticut 

Academy of Arts and Sciences was held in 

this city on Tuesday, at the State House, and 

thence amoved in procession to the brick 

meeting-house ; where an ingenious and sci- 
entific oration was delivered by Sereno E. 
Dwight, Esq. His subject was. The origin 
of springs. The theories of the learned were 
examined, and tested by the principles of 
good sense, and sound philosophy. The 
first which came under his notice, was that 
which attributes the origin of springs to the 
seas; and supposes the water to be raised by 
internal fires evaporating it from great ca- 
verns beneath the ground, or in very fine 
tubes upon the principles of capillary attrac- 
tion. The absurdity of bodi suppositions 
was fully shewn. As to the first, he remark- 
, ed, that the existence of such internal fires is 
a mere hypothesis. The temperature of the 
interior of^ the earth b 43 degrees. But to 
raise the waters of all the streams, the inter- 
nal fires must be vast and numberless. Be- 
sides, the whole surface of the earth must 
become heated, like the refrigeratory of a 
still, by the caloric of the steam. To the 
raising of the water in capillary tubes these 
difficulties were presented. First, water has 
never been known to rise in such a tube more 
than a few inches ; here it must be raised 
many thousand feet. Secondly, the water 
which is raised by capillary* attraction is 
sustained; it never overflows. Thirdly, the 
water, though filtered in this way, would not 
be fresh. This perpetual filter would itself 
become salt throughout. 

The next theory which he examined, was 
that which supposes a vast abyss of waters in 
tiie bowels oJF the earth, and contrives to 
ndse tiie requisite supply to the surface, by 
evaporatioKi, by filtration, and by the pressure 
of tne ocean, as mercury will press up water 
in a bended tube,^ salt water being heavier 
than fresh« Each of these suppositions was 
in its turn refuted. As to the last he observ- 
ed, that if the ocean is not connected with 
the ahyss^ it cannot press upon it. If it is 
connected, the waters will mix, and become 
equally salt ; and consequently, of the same 
specific gravity, so that it would in no part 
nse above the level of the ocean* Further- 
more this pressure is, by the supposition, suf- 
ficient to raise water neariy to the tops of the 
highest mountains ; and of course, to throw 
it from a plsdn near the level of the sea many 
hundred feet perpendicular into the air. 

The last theory, to which he drew the 
attention of the audience, was that which 
ascribes the flowing of the springs to the 
vapours of the atmosphere^ including rain, 
snow, hail, fog and dew. In confiraiation 
of this theory, he stated adcnowledged and 
well attested facts ; and then proceeded to 
examine and obviate several plausible 6bjec- 
tions. The plain doctrine of common sense 
he established very satisfactorily as the doc- 
^ trine of soimd philosqihy» 

Van. Mr. 

roft T»B RUftAL vnirn. 


IBt Celia'8 smiles, and CeHa's breath, 

I doom thee, Knie flower, to douh; 

Arid test thou shouldst, with tears, tesigiti 

lliat tender, blooming life of thine, 

Thy tomb^ sweet floret, ah ! too blest,. 

ShoU be in gentle Celia«ft biean. "H^W. 


OvGB more, mj muse, if thou can'st owa 

A theme by far prefer'd to thee— 
Once more thy sweetest cords attuae. 

And sympathize with love and me. 

The maid I love ! (O tcnd'rest thought) 
Ah! when will she be kind to me i 

When shall my heart with pleasure fraught, 
Bid doubts and painful bodings flee I 

When shall I meet the loving look, 

The confidence-inspiring smile. 
How long my warmest feelings brook, 

The chilling words, " suspend a while/^ 

When may I dare her hand to press. 
Her sweetness-breathing lips to kiss. 

Without restraint my souTe^cpress, 
And hope and talk of future bliss I 

Lo, fiim forbiddance in her eyes. 
Bids me each fond approach repress ; 

She owns me *' friend," but more denies*- 
Ah me ! how cold f how comfortless ! — 

And shall my tenderest suit be vain. 

And will she thus reject me still ? 
Ah! if she do, *twill give ber pain 

As well as «ie^I*m sure it wiD. 

For though she ne'er should own my love. 

She knows my passion is sincere i 
E'en friendship would her bosom move. 

To think she caused one painful tear. 

Ah I might that friendship prove a base 

For mutual love to rest upon. 
Might truth the happy structure raise, 

And Heaven's own smiles the union own. 



Written extempore on seeing a mouse run orer the 
counting-house floor. 

Say little mouse, pny tell what ails thee, 

And why thy little sidfes thus shake ? 
H it thy legs, or heart that fails thee I 

Or why can innocence thus quake > 

Pray little rogue— while biscuit eating. 
What broi^t you hither thus to steal ? 

I ken thou*rt old in th' art of cheating. 
To run, nor stop to make thy meal. 

Tou little thief, you biscuit eater. 

With skin so sftiooth, so like the mole, 

m try with you who is the Jleetert* 
Before you reach your secret hole : 

Ha ! whither fly ? you're 'mongst my papers, 
. My heart is soft— fly little mouse^ 
And no more scare me with your capers, 
Escape, and reach your hidden house. 

B. A. T. 



It is customary with housekeepers as well 
as professed soap-boilers, to mix lime with 
their ashes previous to drawing oflf the ley. 
The consideration of the oflice which is per- 
formed by the lime, viz. that of abstracting 
the fised air, which tv^ould otherwise prev^it 
the union of the fat and ley, has suggested 
the following experiment, which has proved 

To a large ketde of ley, while on the fire, 
^vas added a quarter of a peck of quick lime : 
tlus was stirred till the whole was near boil- 
ing, and then poured into tubs to settle. The 
fat being now set over the fire and melted, 
tlic clear ley was gradually added, when an 
almost instailtaneous union took place ; the 
reault of which was a soap of the finest quail- 


Digitized by 




ty. The whole process occupied about two 

N. B. It is supposed that sp^p is made 
with the greatest success in the increase of 
the moon* A multitude of well authenti- 
cated facts renders it certain that the influ- 
ence of the moon an vegetation, on the sink^ 
ing of manures, 8cc. is veiy considerable. 
Does not this subject deserve philpsophical 
investigation ? 


Serious Thoughts on the use of Spmtutiiis 

No. llL 

The invention of diftillcd ^irits it is 
faid arofe in Ccrmaay, about twp hun- 
dred years ago, with fome apothecaries 
and Chemifts. They were ufed ajnd de- 
figned as medicines at firft, and from 
their fudden and perceptible effects^ were 
much extolled as a new and univerfal 
remedjr. Their high price* and limited 
fupply kept them for a time confined, in 
fome meafnre, to their original and only 
proper deftinaiion. At length however, 
becoming cheap, they gradually paifed 
from the medicinal, to tne common and 
imneceflary ufe of them on trivial occa- 
sions ; and laft of all, to the great abufc 
and proftitution of them to the porpoies 
of fenfuality, in making ufe of them as 
a common drink. We may hence per-, 
ceive the neceffity of retracing ihejieps 
of cuftom, in the ufe of this article ; and 
of the propriety of paffing from. the com- 
mon and trivial ufe, to the guarded me- 
dicinal ufe. The medicinal ufe of dif- 
tilled fpirits may flill be allowable on 
proper occafions, to the feeling and con- 
fcientious inind, but no more. 

It is fuppofed that fevere labour re- 
quires the moderate ufe of fpirits, to^- 
pgrt nature^ or reftore the wafted animal 
fpirits, after times of fatigue. But iq the 
firft place moderation in labour^ is at all 
times wifdom, and then nature requires 
no artificial fupport. Induftry is highly 
laudable ; yet no greater exertions of la- 
hour (hould in any cafe be impofed upon, 
or required from any perfon, than are in 
proportion to his bodily powers. It is 
constancy in labour that effects all its pur- 
pofes, rather than any violent temporary 
application of it. 

In cafes, however, of extraordinary fa- 
tigue, or expofure to cold and darnp^ a 
little wine, or other fermented liquors 
may be ufeful and allowable, and in ex- 
ircme casesy there can be no doubt about 
the propriety of a fuitable application of 

• They w^ at first sold by vicigbt, eight drachma 
t9 ati ounce : lience the origin of the term dram* 

fpirits as medicine if done in a guarded 
way. In general, fevere labour, whether 
temporary or continued, is no other than ■ 
drudgery^ or an impofition upon our na- 
ture, and no way neceiCury to the man 
of wifdom and moderation. To earn 
our bread *' by the fweat of our brow,'* 
that is, by the efforts of fevere laboiu', 
appears to have been part of /i6^ ^rim^/ 
curse inflicted upon the firft Adam, in 
the disobedience. *^ Curfed is the 
ground for thy fake; iu forrow ftialt 
thou eat of it, all the days of thy life ; 
in the fweat of thy brow (halt thou eat 
bread, till thou return unto the ground." 
" lu the world,** faid the divine author 
of the new difpenfation, " ye (hall have 
trouble ; but in me peace.** In the fe- 
cond Adam, therefore, in whom ** there 
is no condemnation,** the curfe upon the 
ground, fcems to be fubftantiaJly re- 
pealed ; and when we ar^ influenced by 
the Chriftian fpirit, an4 redeemed from 
the unlawful love of the woild, we are 
in great meafure favoured to earn our 
bread, by eafy and moderate labour — 
without drudgery, hurry and fetigue.* 

Indeed, fucb is the beneficence of our 
Creator in his moral government, that 
though be Jias impofed upon us the law 
of moderate labour, vfL the procuring of 
the accommodations of time, yet he hath 
in fact, impofed upon us, when under 
the influence of his pure wifdom, oo 
hardfliips, — ^no other exertions indeed, 
than are abfolutely neceflary for our re- 
creation and health. It is found by cvc- 
.ry day's experiencjc in practical life, that 
labour every way adequate to our vtrants 
as Chriftians and rational men, may ycr 
ry well be fupported without any ftimu- 
lant drinks whatever : nor is it any wife 
wonderful that the prophet Daniel, who 
*' would not defile hlmfelf with the 
king's meat, nor with the wine which 
he drank,** but fubfifted for a length of 
time together upon vegetables and wa- 
ter only, ftiould neverthclefs appear up- 
on comparifon, in better condition, than 
thofe who were as may be fqppofed but 
too much in the *^ defiling** habits of in- 
temperance. Dan. i. 15. 

In the fecond place, it woukl be well 
to reflect upon the injurious ^ects pro- 
duced by the ufe of ardent fpirits upon 
our bodily conftitutions, in the courfe 
of time, when they are refprted to as a 

* Ir is a sentiment of ilie celebrated Dr. Benjamin 
Franklin* that if we emplpyed but four hours of the 
day in a well directed application to labour, we should 
have wherewith to subsist comfortably upon the rest 
of the four and twenty, and have ample leisure, be- 
sides* for the refreshment of the body, and the im- 
provement of the mind. A beautiful and interesting 

means of fupporting the fisitigues of fe- 
vere labour. Let us hear the teftimony 
of the celebrated Buchan, on this fub- 
jcct, in his Family Pbyfician, page 64. 
'* Many imagine,** (ays he, " tha,t hard 
labour could not be fupported without 
drinking ftrong liquors : This is a very 
erroneous notioq. Men who never 
tafte ftrong liquors* arc not only able 
to endure mpre fatigue, but alfo to live 
much longer, than thof^ who ufe them 
daily. But &ippde it a fact that ftrong 
liquors enable a man to do nu>re W(^k, 
they muft neverthelefs wafte the powers 
of life, aiid occafion premature old age. 
They keep up a conftant fever, which 
exhaufts the fyftem, and difpofes the 
body to numberlefs difeafcs.** 

*' It is amazing^** continues our au- 
thor, who appears to have had the good 
of mankind fincerely at heart, (page 82) 
" that improvements in arts, learning, 
and politenefs,have not put the barbarous 
cuftom of drinking to eiccefs out of fa- 
fliion. It is indeed lefs common in South 
Britain than it was formerly ; but it ftill 
prevails very much in the North, where 
this relic of barbarity is miftaken for 
hofpitality. There, no man is fuppofed 
to entcrtajn his gucf^s isreJil, wjio does 
not make them dirunk. Forcing people 
to driqk, is certaiqiy the greateft piece 
of rudenefs that any man can be guilty 
of. Manlinefs, cpmplaifance, or mere 
good nature may induce a man to take 
his gTafs^ ^f urged to it, at a time when 
he might as wcH take poifon. In France, 
the cuftom of drinking to excefs has 
long been out of fafliion ; and, a.s it be- 
gins to lofe ground among the polite 
part of the English, we hopcit will foon 
be baniflied from every part of the 
iiland.** How pertineqt thefe remarks 
to the ftatc of our own country ! 

* This was remarkably exemplified in the instance 
of Dr. Franklin, when a journeyman printer ^n Lon* 
don. See his life. " 


4. domestic spinner has been invented by 
E. Heriick, of Berkshire Connty, Mass. 
upon principles and with the view to make 
it usend to every family* The smalkiess of 
its size permits it to be portable from room 
to room and from house to house* The 
space in length, which it occupies, is about 
seven feet, in breadth three feet, and its 
height is about tlirec feet. It is constructed 
to turn about six spindles, and with a wheel 
to bp turned by one per;son, wlio gives all the 
labour necessary to perform the spinning* 
From 6 to 10 run of woolen yam may be 
spun upon this machine in one day. The 
expense of the machine should not exceed 15 
doUars— Application i^ ma<|e for a pc^tept. 

Digitized by 





>* Young children die, 

In pit holes rot." 
These truths sublime when told in rhyme, 
look somewhat flat but what of that t A 
friend who trie^ to make us wise should 
change bis tune from May till June, and 
sing in jingle till our ears tingle ; if tliat 
prove vaic should try again— we would pro- 
pose i?i humble prose; nor leave the field till 
forced to yield, by dint of swords or lack of 

Now this our friend who sought to mend 
the rising age and make us sage, having we 
trust essayed hi« best, and left this scene so 
full of spleen where he was used so badly, a 
funeral hymn we grateful sing around his 
bier so ^adly. 

Though thou art " in the pit hole" gone, 

We hopp thou vvik not " rot ;" 
For while we read thy tuneful song. 
Thou shalt not be forgot. 

" The good shall rise 
Above the skies.^ 
Thy generous care 
Of us wjhile here 
We sing aroimd thy hearse, 
And on thy stone, 
Now thou art gone. 
Grave thine immortal verse. 

^* The good,"'&c. 

The following beautiful lines arc sdictcd ^^ * 
volume of poems lately pubUshed in England, by 
lames Moutgo^ncry^ author of •* The Wanderer 
of Switzerfind," 85c. and have, I believe, never ap- 
peared in this country. 


I CA.VE my harp to Sorrow^s hand, 
And she has touch'd the chords so long. 

They will not speak at my command ; 
l^cy warble only to ber song. 

Of dear departed hoturs, 

Too fondly lov'd to last. 
The dew, the breath, the bloom of flowers, 

Snapt in tUcir freshness by the blast :— 

Of long, long years of future care, 
Till lingering nature yields her breath, 

And endless ages of despair. 

Beyond the judgmeut day of death ! 

The weeping Minstrel sings, 

Anjd while her numbers flow. 
My spirit trembles with the strings. 

Responsive to the notes of woe- 
Would gladness move a sprighllier strain, 

And wake this wiW harp's clearest tones, 
The chords, impatient to complain, 

Are dumb, or only utter moans. 

And yet to sooth' the nnnd 

With luxury of grief. 
The s»til to suffering all resign'd, 

In sorrow's music finds retief. 

Thus o'er the light jBoUan lyre, 

• The winds of dark November stray, 
Touch the quick nerve of every wire. 
And on its magic pulses play — 

Till aH the air ground, 

Mysterious murmurs fill, 
A strange bewildering dream of sounds, 

Most heavenly sweet^— yet mournful still. 

O! snatch the harp from Sorrow's hand- 
Hone ! who- hast been a stranger long, , 

O MriKe it with sublime command^ 
And hfi the Poet's life thy song. 

Of vanish 'd troubles sing. 

Of fears forever fled. 
Of flowers that hear the voice of spring. 

And burst and blossom from the dead ; 

Of home, contentment, health, repose. 
Serene delights, while years increase ; 

And Weary life's triumphant close, 
In some calm sunset hour of peace ! 

Of bliss that reigns above. 

Celestial May of youth ; 
Unchanging as Jehovah's love, 

And everiasting as his Truth. 

Sing, heavenly Hope! and dart thy hand 
O'er my frail Harp — untun'd so long ; 

That haqj shall breathe at thy command. 
Immortal sweetness through thy song. 

Ah ! then this gloom control, 

And at thy voice shall start, 
A new creation in my soul, 

A native Eden in my heart. 


FoREiGN.^No certain events of much consequence 
have transpired from late accounts ; some skirmishing 
between the Spamsh, Portuguese, and French, are re- 
ported, but no decisive action had taken place from 
the latest accoints. It appears to be a current opinion 
with commercial men, that American property will 
be respected in the ports of France during the «?inter. 
A French minister arrived at Gottenburgh on the 9th 
of October, and Bernadoite, Bonaparte's deputed king 
of Sweden, was daily expected at Stockholm. Great 
anxiety is expressed, and ccrtsunly, wQxy momentous 
consequences depend on the result of the expected 
conflict in Portugal. " 

We are sorry to find the late news of the safety of 
Mungo Parke in Africa, is contradicted. 

An article .under the date of September 8, states as 
follows:-" An Atoe, which is known to have been in 
the garden of Lord de Dunstanvilie, at Trchidy Park, 
ahcty yeara, and how mAich longer is uncertain, and 
wluch till about 2 months ago was not more than^bar 
fiet from the ground, suddenly shot up, and has grown 
at the rale of two inches a day, till it is now twenty'/ve 
fiet high, and is exi>ected shortly to appear, for the 
first time, in full bloom. 

.Domestic.— We have received the President's 
message to both houses of Congress, assembled; its 
length induces us rather than insert the whole, to 
make an abstract of the principal heads for our read- 

He mentions that the act of last session rela- 
ting to oinr commercial intercourse with Europe, 
inviting in a new form a termination of the edicts of 
Great Britain and France had produced a repeal of the 
Berlin and Milan decrees by the government of France, 
though, not a restoration of property seized by virtue 
of them. From G. Britain no communication on the 
subject of the act has been yet received. Our com- 
merce in the North of Europe has been still much an- 
noyed by Danish -cruisers, with the government of 
which a more formal interposition is contemplated. 
A proclamation is issued to the Governor of the Or- 
leans Territory, directing him in the name and ou 
behalf of the U. States, to take possession of that part 
of said Territory west of the river Perdido, and hither- 
to ?n the possession of Spain. Our relations with the 
Barbary Powers and Indian natives continue to wear a 
friendly aspect, except, as he notices, a recent occur- 
rence at Tunis. The traffic in slaves under the Ame- 
rican flag appears still to exist in a considerable de- 
gree, although inconsistent with law ar«l humanity.— 
He notices, that the fortifications for the defence of 
our maratime frontier, are prosecuted agreeably to the 
plan of 1808, and recommends the consideration, whe- 
thera seminary of Learning would not be profitably 
instituted by the national legislature. The expense to 
be defrayed out of the vacant grounds within the limits 
of their exclusive jurisdiction. 

A request from the convention of the State of Flo- 
rida, praying the protection of the U. States, and to be 
considered as an integral part thereof; appears among 
the documents received from Washington. 

A dead whale has drifted on shore on Folly Island, 
Charieston, 69 feet, 2 inches in length— its jaws 10 or 
12 feet. The offensivencss of the carcase precluded a 
more minute examination. 

We learn with great pleasure, that a costly and ex- 
tensive Philosophical A^pparatus has been imported 

by the Bainbridge, capt. Grey, for the use of the Uni- 
versity of Pennsylvania. — It was selected and shipped 
through the agency pf William Vanghan, Esq. of Lon- 
don, who, with theliberality which distinguishes Ihe 
Friend of Science, has volunteered his services on this 
occasion. Among the articles imported, are an A • 
chromatick Telescope, on a large scale, by the cele- 
brated Dollond— a Voltaick Battery— a large Elcctri- 
cal Machine, with medical apparatus, and an Electri. 
cal Battery on a new plan— Magnetic apparatus, &c. 
Hydrostatick apparatus— a Universal, compound and 
solar opaque Microscope — best Table Air Pump— a 
Locroscope, &c. &c.— These valuable additions to the 
apparatus already in the possession of the University, 
will, it is presumed, enable the learned gentleman* 
who has lately been elected to the chair of Natural 
Philosophy, to accompany his lectures with a com- 
plete course of experiments, the want of which has 
heretofore been the subject of much and general com- 
plaint. Certainly, without experiments, it cannot be 
expected that a youthful student will make any con- 
siderable proficiency in Natural Philosophy. It is 
said that a thorough regeneration and reformation of 
the system of education in the University have lately 
been completed by the Board of Trustees, which pro- 
mise the most beneficial consequences. The i^w 
system is to go into operation at the beginning of the 
• liext year. [u. s. caz. 

• Mr. Robert Paterson. 

On the 14th ult. the Rev. yobn Thornton Alriland, 
D» D. and L. L. D. was installed President of Har- 
vard college, at Cambridge, Massacbusetts, 

President Smith of Princeton, and President Dviiglt 
of Yale College, have each the degree of Doctor of 
Laws conferred upon them by Cambridge college. 

Hctvrn Jonathan Meigs^ is elected^ Governor, of the 
state of Ohio. The seat of government is removed 
to Zanesville. 

Edviord Ll(ffdt Esq. is re-elected Governor of Mary- 

Mariied— On the 29ih ult. by Robert Wharton, 
Esq. Mr. yobn ICvans, of Philadelphia', Lumber" 
chant, to Miss Either Omen, of Blockly Town^Pr 
Pennsylvania. ^ 

—On Thursday evening the* 6th inst. by the Rev. 
yoTfU* Ricbardi, Mr. Nathaniel W. Sanjfhrd, to the 
amiable Miss Hannah Cranct all of Newark. 
—On the 17th ult. by the same Rev. Gentleman, Mr. 
ymnei Tichenor, jun. to Miss jinn Southard, all of New-- 

f— On the ISth ult. by the same Key. Gentleman, Mr. 
'jhel 5^r«, of Bloomfield, to Miss Mary Ward, of 

— On Sunday evening, tlie 2d inst. by the Rev. Dr. 
Siryhr, Mr. Hendrick Berry, to Mizs Nancy Morrill, all 
of Belleville. 

On Saturday, the 1st inst. by the Rev. yosepb Pit- 
more, Mr. William Steventon, Jun. to Miss Ann Daug- 
lat9y daughter of John Douglass, Esq. all of Philadel- 

DiEO— On Saturday evening last, after a long atirt 
painful in<lisposi:ion. Col. Samuel Ogden, of Newark. 

Z. ^At Boston, Joseph RvsseU Esq. President of ibe 

North American Insurance Company. 


The Editor acknowledges the receipt of several tri^ 
tical effusions ; but he is at present favoured with a 
number of correspondents whose design is evidently 
the amusement and instruction of our readers generallw 
He had therefore previously come to a deterinination 
no more to encourage " Brother thus to war with brc- 
ther" about " «r//fc* light <m atr,*\ 

We are willing to encourage Juvenius, on condition 
of his taking care to send us nothing until ii be revised 
and approved^ at leaat one month after the glowing cf 
his muse breaks forth into a blaze. 

We think the perusal of prose that rises no bibber 
than misUocritft, more tolerabie than poetry that is not 

first rate. 

Walter has not yet complied with our request. 
Smourner No. 5,— two pieces signed L^—N rr,— and 
H Wf have cotne to hand, 
(m— f «— — — — ■"WHMJiaiii * 

Published Weekly, by D. Amnso7i, 


Price two Dollars sixty-two Cents for Volume firt?, 
payable sc^xi-annuaHy in advance. 

Digitized by 



«♦ Homo sum; kumani nihil a me alienum putoJ" — Man and his cares to me a man, are dear. 

VOL. I. 


No. 21. 

No. XX. 

Quisquis laxuria tristive superstione, 

Aut adio mentis morbo calet : Hoc propius me, 

Dunn doceo insanire omnes, vos ordine adite. 


Xhe Study of the human mind has long 
been to philosophers an amusement no less 
fascinating than instructive. Their inquisi- 
tive spirit has peculiarly prompted them to 
such researches as have disclosed to our eyes 
the secret workings of those powers, by 
which the human soul is often swayed. A- 
mongst these there is one which claims our 
particular attention, one which exerts a great 
influence over the mind, and is universally 
acknowledged. That to which I allude is 
superstition ; to a few remarks on whicht his 
paper shall be devoted. 

In the early ages of society, when learning 
and reason had not yet dissipated the clouds 
of ignorance which then enveloped the minds 
of men, the prevalence of superstition Taught 
hav»i found some colour of apolog)-. Every 
occurrence which was not familiar to the 
senses, arres'cd the attention, and induced 
the observers to believe that an invisible be- 
ing had presented th^:m to their view^, as 
omens of some impending event. This arose 
from their ignorance oritie c nua^p t*«(C pro- 
duced them, and from their erroneous and 
imperfect idea of the Father of the Uuivcrsc. 
Having imbibed such principles, they next 
sought the purport of these tokens. Hence 
arose an order of men, to whom was consign- 
ed the oifice of explaining and revealing the 
result which these phenomena portended. 
This emplo>'ment necessarily fell to the lot 
of those whose superior knowledge ard un- 
derstanding had rendered them conspicuous. 
Ignorance withheld the causes of these un- 
usual appearances from their eyes likewise ; 
but throuj^h motives of self interest, they 
gave such a construction to them aj best 
suited their own designs. The . . poai^ce 
from tht'ir credulitv, reverence of more skil- 
ful talents, and inability to judge, placed im- 
plicit reliance on the solutions whirfi this 
class of men had mad«*, and by the un ntelli- 
gible mamier in which they were delivered, 
thei'* understandings were bewildered. From 
these circumstances, superstition at length 
Ijccimi? blended with their religious tenets, 
which together witli the want of divine reve- 
lation, allows every excuse for its preTalence 
and adopaon. 

But since the glorious gospel of the Son of 
God has shed abroad its enlightening influ- 
ence, and the genius of Newton and others 
has led *o a solution of most of the pheno- 
mena that occur, how degrading, how incon- 

sistent with that manly simplicity of manners 
so honourable to the rational character, is 
superstition ! None but a being whose intel- 
lect is shrouded with the dark veil of igno- 
rance can long adhere to the principles it 
inculcates. It is true, there are many kinds 
of superstition that have no connection with 
religious tenets or the philosophy of New- 
ton ; but the existence even of this class 
diminishes the dignity of humait nature, in 
as much as they disqualify the mind for pru- 
dent exertions. Amongst these, there are 
some more censurable than others, which as 
the mind is expanded, become more confin- 
ed to the illiterate and vulgar: but still there 
are many of a good understanding, many 
whose acquirements have rendered them re- 
spectable, who I believe, are yet alive to all 
the horrors of witchcraft, and the solelnn and 
terrible aspects of the appalUne spectre. 
From the fallibility of men, and me narrow 
limits beyond which the exertions of the 
human intellect are incapable of being ex- 
tended, absurd and ridiculous notions will 
always prevail. But when principles are re- 
tained and supported, which reason itself 
declares erroneous, we must condemn them, 
and acknowledge our disapprobation of their 
possessor and supporter. Foets, whose wild 
and fanciful imaginations have suggested 
beings o+' an immaterial nature, are authoriz- 
ed to sport in such vague and imaginary no- 
tions. Their descriptions of spectres, which 
rush upon the eye with all the vigour of 
momentary creation, are often amusing. 
Such are the departed souls of Ossian, in 
which he, from natural disposition and the 
face of the country he inhabited, was proba- 
bly incited to indulge. 

It is a part of the human constitution to 
believe, that when similar causes have pro- 
duced similar effects in several instances, the 
same may be expected on die return of thi3 
cause. This no doubt is often true: but 
it does not follow, that because a crow or 
any other bird was seen on our left or right 
hand, and a certain disastrous event ensued, 
a similar occurrence will arise in the same 
situation. Evident as this is, yet there are 
some who place implicit belief in such non- 
sense ; some who will sweat with apprehen- 
sion at the falling of salt, merely because a 
misfortune succeeded a former similar event. 
These principles are totally unbecoming a 
creature who boasts his superiorit}' to the 
brute creation, debase his character, and 
prove a source of misery. This position 
shall endeavour to illustrate by shewing the 
effects which superstition in general has upon 
those who are slaves to its dictates. 

The intimate connection between the mind 
and body, renders them mutually dependent 

on each other. If one is affected by pain or 
any other sensation, the other becomes a 
partaker of the effect. From this cause, if 
melancholy once takes possession of the 
mind, it pervade the whole system, and is 
often attended with serious consequences. 
Nothing seems calculated to put the mind in 
a more melancholy state, than superstition. 
When once it gets hold of the imagination it 
takes deep root, and affiects the mind with an 
awful, imaginary', and frequendy unpleasing 
horror, which after it has once settled there, 
must necessarily produce a decay in our 
bodily frame. This is confirmed by daily 
experience. That it lessens and is unbecom- 
ing our character as men, appears from other 
effects that are equally striking and lamenta- 

From the litde philosophy of which we are 
possessed, if forebodings are allowed to re- 
gulate our actions, we will be compelled to 
renounce many of the most important under- 
takings. Continual dread and fear will be 
excited by trifling occurrences, because they 
are not immediately connected with our ex- 
perience and observation, and things which 
woujd pass by unheeded, will for the most 
part be viewed in an ominous light. Hence 
a continual doubt and hesitation will con- 
stantly check our progress in every thing in 
which we may be engaged, and render us 
unfit for the duties incumbent on man. Let 
us then discard superstition from.our breasts, 
obliterate its vain and inconsistent sugges- 
tions, in obedience to the dictates of reason 
and understanding. 



Quid brevi fortes joculamor acvo 


Last night as I sat rdone by my study 
firq I lit my 9igarr, and insensibly fell into 
that pleasing, musing mood which I gene- 
rally find I get into when I thus commence 
a solo to solitude, regaling myself with my 
favourite Indian weed. The wind whisded 
without — ^the hail pattered against my case- 
ment : and both of them aided the curling va- 
!)Our to arrange my feelings in that even 
brm, that my thoughts passed over them 
without causing' any reference to myself. I 
yielded too involuntarily to the train of re- 
flections which my imaginadon then lighted, 
to notice the effect of what has been often 

observed, and which I afterward thought on 

That our comforts never give us so placid a 
satisfaction as when we ei^oy them in a snug 
mansion, on a soft pillow, or by a cheerhil 
fire, while the storm roars aod threatens 

Digitized by 




The smoke which arose from my tob«co 
attracted my eye. It ascended in spiral 
curls to the top of the room, filled the atmos- 
phere, and'seemed to impede the freedom of 
my sight. I reverted to the operation which 
*, and could not but be struck with 
the similitude which all these formed of my- 
tself. The f igarr said I, is man ; the fire 
which has fastened on it, and is now con- 
suming it, is ambition ; and the smoke is the 
noise, the hurry, and disquietudes, which are 
produced by ^eir natural affinity and con- 

,1 think it is Ben Johnson observes that 
tliere is never so much powder that fire can- 
not be found enough to kindle it. So ambi- 
tion seems to be always ready in sufficient 
quantities to set the souls of men in a blaze : 
and it seizes on them with a voracity or 
slowness, and leaves an impression according 
to the purity or goodness of the compound 
on which it operates. 

The smoke forms an sCpt comparison with 
thost fruitless struggles, those unequal con- 
tests^ that are the product of this aspiring 
quality operating on litde minds. It vapours 
away m as extensive an area as it can* It 
rises as high as it can : but it rises in a use- 
less and uncertain form. It serves to obstruct 
perception, not to assist it. And when the 
narrow confine in which it is placed is broken 
in upon and discovers expansive imture, it 
mixes with the grosser parts of the atmos- 
phere, vanishes, and is forgotten. 

The ashes which I struck from my 9igarr, 
I compared to those useful remains of ambi- 
tion's effects which still exist when both the 
agent and the subject are extinct. The va- 
pour that ascends with such levity, has. pass- 
ed away and is no more seen, but the resi- 
dual substance is capable of being appropri- 
ated to various uses, of ccmtributing to die 
sanity, as well as to the utility of man* 

Ambition is the cause of a thousand col- 
lisions, that strike out sparks emitting rays 
which gleam through the darkness tnat had 
never otherwise been penetrated. It fires 
the bold to deeds of glory — ^to st^nd first in 
arms— ^to' gather fame with his sword, as 
the defender of his country, and the terror 
of corruption. The contemplative it seduces 
to the bower— with Demosthenes ft incites 
him to declaim in the fervour of eloquence ; 
to plead, to denounce, to call on slumbering 
apathy, and point to the unheeded regions 
of glory. With Virgil, it takes him into the 
vale of Tcmpe ; or with Solon he dispenses 
wisdom and law, elucidates the objects of 
man's true hope, and smooths the rugged 
soil once rooted and roughened by barbarity 
and' licence. The lover it leads into the 
arms of beauty ; to quaff the nectar of the 
rosv lip— ^o listen to the delightful sounds of 
melody, and bask in the rays of those fasci- 
nating eyes which charm and festen him to 
the maid whom he adores. Ambidon is the 
eagle eye that aided by genius, surveys die 
g^be — that perches on the dizzy height, or 
explores the recesses of the cavern. It is the 
strong arm that bursts the fetter, and leads 
the soul " abroad in her own majesty''— It 
elevates human nature— it " breathes the 
spirit of the mountain head.'' 

I thought of the many instances in which 
this quality united with cruelt)^— with ava- 
rice—or with a distempered mind, had be- 
come the bane of society — ^had swept myriads 
to the tomb — ^had grasped at riches and with- 
held them from die use of man ; or had 
changed the intention of God in the applica- 
tion of its effects, like the infecdous plant 
that poisons the purest air. But I passed 
. from these to the cottage of contentment, 
where I saw the emulative spirit of the pea- 
sant employed in *' rearing the tender plant" 
—in teaclung '* the young idea how to 
shoot," in placing himself, the beloved part- 
ner of his bosom, and his rising oflspring,'in 
the possession of whatever nature or habits 
of simplicity demanded; whose delight was 
to cover his walls with rural tapestry, and 
render them " only vocal to his Maker's 
praise." In the contemplation of his state 
and wishes, I saw the operation of that same 
ruling principle of which I had been applying 
the comparison. Though totally diierent 
fi-om the great and the gay, yet this peasant's 
situation is equally productive of satisfaction 
and delight. Though no diamonds irradiate 
his possessions, yet he looks on them and 
basks in the " soul% calm sunshine and the 
heartfelt joy." 

" When statutes glean the refuse of the swoid, 
How much more safe the vassal than the lord ! 
Low sculks the hind beneath the rage of poweti 
And leaves the wealth|p traitor in the Tower." 

At this moment, the question presented 
itself to my inquiry, Whether the potentate 
or the peasant be the happier ? The first said 
I, inhabits the gilded palace, he reclines upon 
down, he breathes the perfumes of the east, 
he riots on dainties to the soft sounds of mu- 
sic, his attendants are at his command and 
prevent his wishes : Does his health require 
the assistance of medicine ? The most skilAil 
physicians press to aUend him. But the 
peasant is satisfied with his rustic home, he 
sleeps sweetly on his pallet of straw, he 
snufis the fragrance of the fresh turned sod, 
he devours his simple meal with the luxury 
of appetite, while his own native nightingales 
supply him with melody, his ready hands 
administer to his wishes, and his sim^eness 
and activity shield him from disease. The 
potentate is welcomed with the shouts and 
applause of others, but the peasant holds 
within his own breast the delisting gratula- 
tions of an unspotted heart. The one glories 
in the inmiensity of his riches ; the other 
looks abroad on nature, and *' calls the de- 
lightful scenery all his own." The one boasts 
oi the splendour of his ancestry ; the other 
claims bis origin from the fingers of the 
Divinity. The one seeks to arrive at cele- 
brity amid noise, tumult and fame f the other 
searches the goal of happiness through tiie 
quiet path of content. That, like the tower- 
ing ea^e, soars amidst thunders, lightnings 
and storms, and when he falls, is precipitated 
on rocks and billows. This is the unaspiring 
Bee that culls his sweets in the valley, and 
retreats from danger into the embrace of 
the flower. That, like the comet, alarms 
with his flashes and irregular course. This, 
like thfe moonf, mildly reflects to others the 

li^ht which it has received from its divine 

In this view of the subject, I found all my 
own towering notions, aJl my struggles for 
superiority, were vanishing. I no longer 
felt that eager wish to excel others, that envy 
of those whose situations in life were supe- 
rior to my own, or that triumph over some 
whom the grades of society had placed be- 
neath me. I reflected that die respectability 
of man does not arise from his station in life^ 
but from his filling that station with int^rity 
and honour. That his happiness does not: 
consist in commanding others, but in ruling, 
hlmselfand his passions. That his glory is 
uncertain while dependant on terrestrial sup- 
port, and that as to the honours of life, the 
directions of the poet were the most compre- 
hensive and certain, 

<< Act well your part, there all the hofiour lies !** 




Love be my muse, whUe I attempt 

To touch so sweet a string. 
For lovely woman is the thern^— 

What sweeter could I singi 

As bone to bone to man allied, 

No nearer friend has he ; 
Faithful coaripanion of his woes. 

And sharer in his glee. 

While thus allied, how can I fail 

rhe tender tie to feel ? 
O ! could I with the muse prevail 

My feelings to reveal ! 

rdtell how in my sportive days. 

While yet a heedless thing— 
W)ule yet a thoughtless giddy boy, 

CI feel the poignant sting). 

HovTuft wnen^TDiugai oi bealtii 

I ran through cold and wet— 
My little sister's guardian care 

ForestalL'd iu bad effect. 

Wifk change of raiment clean and dry, 

How tenderly she strove 
Myinattention to supply-^ 

Twas like parental love. 

Yes. though for all her care and paio^ 

No thanks did I express; 
It altered not the kindly strain, 

Nor made her more remiss. 

Anci now beneath the earth she's laid, 

^d more than I her death deplore; 
Yet pci«r shall my heart regret, 

Tjiat I shall see her face nomore! 

Whit has she left ?— A vale of tears— 
'%ttr iMe is sealed, her heaven secure ; 

Hen^orth what ills on life attend 
Can never, never injure her. 

Bift ^ot to any age or station, 

Tjie sex*8 pnuse would 1 confine ; 
Thriagh youth, in age, in each relation. 

Tie kindest stay of tottering man. 

Whm England's enterprizing spn, 

"nk realms of Afric to explore, 
Fors^k his dear, his native home, 

N^ knew that he should see it more^ 

Astriy upon an unknown wild, 
(F^oud man the cause of half his woes) 

Fatig^ied, unfriended and alone. 
He sat him down to court repose* 

Thett when with various iHs oppress'd, 
N# friend, " No wife, no mother" thctc„ 

The lusky daughters of the south. 
Supplied a "mfe's and mother's care. 

Digitized by 




With pity bore his bui-den home, 
With artless songs his grief beguiled. 

And gently in his doubt«wom breast. 
The sovereign balm of hope distill *d.* 

But is it in the untutored mind, 

In nature's rudest habit dtest ; 
We hope these noble gems to find 

Perfected iii the female breast! 

If what the world refinement calls, 
Had never jarr*d with wisdom's plan, 

We had not thus » pattern sought, 
Among the ruder scenes of , roan. 

But though what thus we falsely name, 

Has not improv*d the lot of man, 
There is what ma^ the title claim. 

Which has not jarr'd with wisdom's plan. 

Here then we find, where giace improves 
The gifts which nature has assign'd. 

The fairest fruits of mental growth, 

Cherish'd to ripeness in the female mind* L. 

• The circutnstance here alUided to, may be found 
in Mungo Park's Travels in the interior of A^ca. It 
hMH been beautifully versified by the Duchess of 


jR» A HermiU — S. One of his forlher 

S. I CANNOT think that any good man pan 
be at liberty to* fly from the duties he owes 
to society, and shut himself up from inter- 
course with his fellow creatures. 

R. Is the mind so dependant that it can- 
not be improved without that assistance, 
which a thousand accidents may put beyond 
our reach ? 

S. I believe that solitude does not exclude 
impro\'ement ; and that occasioiial retire- 
ment may prove advantageous; but from 
our very nature, we seem to have been de- 
signed for society. Our mutual wants and 
common afflictions call us together; and how- 
ever independent the mind may be, in our 
present state of existence, a solitcury rational 
ts the most forlorn of Being's, 

R. I grant that society improves those 
capacities which are adapted to the pro- 
motion of its own convenience and accom- 
modation ; but the best of things may be 
abused, and perverted from their original 
intention. Thus the precious tatt^ which 
promotes agriculture, commerce, ikni arts 
for the benefit of men, abused, becomes an 
engine of destruction. So also society, which 
rirfitly understood augments cve^ sotkrce 
of temporal felicity, when warped fr9m its 
design becomes the nursery of greater evils 
than solitude gives birth to. It was to shun 
these evils that I retired. 

S. What are those evils of which thou so 
heavily complainest ? 

R. Tlie root i% ignorance of self, but its 
productions are numberless and nameless* It 
IS in vain to strike sit them under the general 
terms of pride, affectation^ bigotr}', narrow- 
mindedness, &c. for these terms leave the 
miatter too much at large and are frequently 
very much perverted. So that unless the 
'minutiae of each person's conduct can be 
pointed out, they never feel the blow. 

S. If we expect to find our companions 
without faplt, we require of them what we 

do not find in ourselves ; we must therefore 
learn to bear with them. To suffer all such 
things to drive us from self-possession woidd 
be to destroy the litde portion of the happi- 
ness which this world mig'ht afford. 

R. I do not complain of small evils. Per- 
haps since we were companions thy lot has 
been cast among a different class froln those 
of which I speak, some of whom I have 
found in almost every neighbourhood with 
which I have become acquainted. It is sure- 
ly not among the smallest of evils to have 
our relish for company turned into disgust 
by the predominance of this abominable prin- 
ciple. Does it not provoke thee to see one 
third of thy species mistaking their talents 
and aiming at every thing but that for which 
they arc adapted ; and more provoking stifl, 
that they will not see that they are not admir- 
ed ? With these, whatever nature has done 
for good, is imdone, and whatever she has 
slighted, is doubly deformed in the better- 

It was this induced me to leave the circles 
of dissipation, and to enter into the capacity 
of a servant to till the earth; hoping that 
where she best retained her virgin form^ I 
might find some traces of Eden s simplicity 
in her human productions. But a succession 
of disappointments has caused me to give up 
the search ; I am now resolved to retire with 
nature to her last recess, and remain faithful 
to her in her exile among the inhabitants of the 
woods ; where each creature is satisfied with 
the sphere in which providence has placed it, 
contented to exercise its limited faculties in 
the xvay designed^ and is never found to 
" overstep the modesty ofnature*^ A set of 
origin^ beings of nature's modelling, how- 
ever rude, form to my view a more agree- 
able society, than a collection of such muti* 
lated copies of humanity. 

S. " Kude thoughts run wild in contem- 
plation's field.'* I am very confident that thy 
heated imagination, left to itself, has been 
the chief pamter of this disgusting picture of 
society. And that hadst thou been more 
conversant with the sensible and s^eeable 
part of mankind, thou hadst never suflered 
those thin^ to carry thee to so wild an ex- 
treme^^— reflect on die end of thy being ; think 
if in thy present situation thy talents are em* 
ployed in the way designedn Drop thy pre- 
judices ; view the sutyect over again with 
calmness and humility; then I am persuaded 
thou wilt see the propriety of relinquishing 
thy scheme, and returning to the active 
scenes of life. Nay, it may possibly appear, 
upon a candid enquiry, that the cause which 
thou hast blamed for producing those evils, 
has been the moving cause of thu retirement^ 
the effects of which may perhaps be not 
merely negative^ 

** For solitude, however some may rave* 
Seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave ; 
A aepidchre in which the living lie, 
Whert all good quahtiei grow nek and dk. 

R. I admit the justness of thy observations 
in a general point of view ; yet, considering 
how various are the dispensations of Fro/oi- 
dence to man^ I am not convinced that diere 
may not exist circuniatanees to justify even 
a total sedurion from the world. Go, my 

brother, « act well thy part" in the bustling 
scenes of life, but cultivate towards thy 8C-_ 
eluded friend, that charity, which is n^X swift 
to judge. H» 


Mr* Ec&tor^ 

I HAVE been for some time very much at 
a loss to know upon what principle time apts, 
to be of such benefit to Umd — ^whether it is 
by neutralizing the sulphuric acid which is 
so prevalent in our sour clay ground : qr 
decomposing the ahim, and thereby leaving 
the alumine iti a proper state to receive car* 
bonic acid, which in conjunction with water, 
is the principal sustenance of vegetables^ 
Or, whether (as it is an alkaline substance, 
and consequently will attract either of the 
acids) it unites with the carbonic acid, which 
it is brought in contact with by air and water, 
and then yields it to vegetables? And if 
either, whether it is preferable to put it on 
land at the ^aoie time, or one or two years 
previous to barnyard manure ? 

If through the Medium of your paper, in- 
formation can be obtained upon tnese sub- 
jects, there will be a peculiar favour conferred 
upon a young man, jusrt setting out in the 
world for thc-purpo8eiaf,gaining a livelihood. 
Yours, &c. 

Dec. 1810. D. E. 

The following is a precursor to a number of selected 
TpitQts which we shall henafter present to onr read, 
ers s though some of Uum may be familiar to many» 
yet we have no 4oubt they will be acceptable to a^[. 


In fading grandeur, to! tlie trees 

Their tamish'd honours shed ; 
While every leaf-oompelling breezy. 

Lays their dim verdure dead. 

Ere while they shoe a vtg^rous length 

Of flowers^ of fruity andgreeni 
Now shorn of beauty and of strengtl^ 

They stand a shatter'4 scene. 

Ere long the genial breath of spring 

Shall aH their charms renews 
And flower, and fruity «ad foliage bring, 

All pleasing to the view. 

Thus round and round the seasons roll, 

In one harmonious comrse { 
And pour convictions on the soul. 

With unremitting force. 

Hot SMfh is man's appointed fate 

One spring alone he knows ; 
One summer* one autumnal state, 

One winter's dead repose. 

Tet, not the dKary sleep of deM, 

Shall e'er his powers destroy; 
But man shall draw immortal breath, 

In endless pain or joy. 

Important thought !-^K>h mortal ! hear 

Ob what thy peaee depends i 
The voice of truth invites ihkie ear. 

And this the vcnce she sends : 

When virtue glows wit^ youthful chan^. 

How bright the vernal skies ! 
When virtue like the sionmer waims« 

What golden harvests rise ! 

When vices spring without control. 

What bitter fruits appear * 
A wintry darkness wraps the soul 

And horroii close the year. 

I«et youth to virtfe'a shrine repair 
And m^ their tribute bring. 

Digitized by 




Old age »hall lose its load of care, 
And death shaU lose its sting. 

Borne upwards on seraphic wing 
Their happy souls shall soar. 

And there enjoy eternal spring. 
Nor fear a winter more. 


m^Ho. 14. 
Father of us. ihou in the heavftis . 

Hallowed be thy name; , 

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done 

Inearth, as heaven, the same. 
Give us thU day the only bread. 

Whereon our souls can live.T 
And unto us, our trespasses, 

As others we, forgive : 
Into temptation lead us not, 

From evil us deliver, 
. tor thine are kingdom, gloiy, power. 

Forever and forever^ Amen. 

* lioLTyif Hfictv if roi<r cvfccvoi^ 
f Tor afTOY i/JLor rof ifri ovviov 
t E/c rov^ amyoLQ 
llih mo. 1810. 


M. F. 



Bt thy social converse blest. 
Blest in thy endearing smiles. 
Friendship lulls my cares to rest. 
And my adverse fate beguiles. 
«car then, Creative Power, the fervent prayer, 
Which from my heart U offcr'd for the fair. 
«« May guardian angds round ^er hover- 
Peace reside within her breast i 
And some worthy— happy lover- 
Know her worth, and make her blest. 

Yet fair maiden, if we part, 
Though I smile youv bliss to see- 
Grief will rankle at my heart, 
Thus to be deprived of thee. 
Hope ! though often thou deceive me. 
Grant me still one twinkling beam ,*— 
Never of tbat bliss bereave me 
Brought by fajopy's fau7 dream*— 
Return my fs^ncy-Miease thy-v?Lgrant flight. 
Nor wake thdse feelings which I dare not wnte. 



Has plenty, health, and peace been givcn» 
Grateful, enjoy the gift of heaven. 
Whose goodness makes your ways so even, 

And joy imparts. 
Hut let cxUlUng pride be driven 

Far from your hearts. 

Perchance, a»sad reverse may come. 
And ye be doom«d to leave your home, 
«f In scanty poverty to roam," 

-. By friends forgot s* 
For what has been the fate of some. 

May be your lot. 

Then let this truth impress the mind, 
And prompt the generous wish refin'd. 
That strives the broken heart to bind, 

And dries the tear, 
And as ye bless so may ye find. 

Increase of cheer. 

^-CfliiT who can tell what varied ill 
The child of want is doom'd to feel ? 
How many a pang and hopeless chill 

Shoots through his breast, 

3ee, how he eyes the scanty meal 

For supper drest! 

Not all his saving, toil, or care 
Affords the wight a better fare ; 
E'en this, as comfortless and spare. 

As it may seem,. 
A wife and six young children share, 

'Pending on him. 

See, >whcre the little prattling clan 
Croud, shiv 'ring round the smoking tan; 
For now, the wife has mov'd the pan. 

That simmer'd there; 
And smiling, sets before the man 

Their cheerless fare, 
Good natur*d worth I who thus can smile, 
A partner's sorrows to beguile ; 
And, though more wretched, all the while 

Compos'd appear ; 
I give you credit for the guile 

You practise here. 

The supper o'er, th^y haste to bed : 

Alas! their social joys have fled. 

No more Ihey hear the well known tread 

Of specious friends; 
For ah ! where want and woe have wed. 

There friendship endi. 

Yet they are worthy, neat and clean ; 

Through all their poverty is seen 

A noble pride ! that scorns the mean. 

Unworthy aim. 
Resigned, on Heaven's best hope they lean— 

A Savioui^s name ! 
Burlington, Dec. 1810. N. W. 



Valuable Discovery^X translation from a Hamburg 
paper of the 25th June, 1810, says, " Our celebrated 

Shysician de Garro has by many trials made the certain 
iscovery that the preserved and dried tcab of the Kine 
Pock, even after several years will reproduce the genu- 
ine kine pock, and that in consequence the liquid, 
which often is difficult to be obtained, may be entir^y 
dispensed with. The dried scab is pulverised, and a 
very little thereof put on the lancet, previously naoU- 
tened with spittle and infused under the upper skin. 
The obvious advantage thereof is that the dried scab 
can in this way be .conveyed m leucnrto the most dis- 
tant countries." 

Governor Q-aigU Soad.—Thxs bold enterpnse is fin- 
ished— Seventy-five miles of road have been cut thro' 
primitive foresti, completing a carriage way from 
Quebec to Shipton in the district of Three Rivers. It 
is generally ten feet wide, free from all stumps and 
other embarrassments and connected and embellished 
by 120 bridges of different dimensions. Of these 24 
cross large streime, and the one built over a branch of 
Becancour ^Uver, and called Craig's bridge, is of ex- 
cellent workmanship. 

We do not hesitate to call this work the most im- 
portant local event since this became a British pro- 
vince. And surely if Rome conferred on her military 
roads of less difficult construction the title of JBmilian 
and Flaminian always, in honour of the projectors of 
them, we may with less pride, though wuh more 
reason, honour this new created and magnificent 
avenue with the name of the great benefactor who 
projected and commanded its execution.— S^c^. Gaz, 
Domestic— The President, through Mr. Smith, 
has informed the Convention of Florida, that he can- 
not recognise in said convention any independent au- 
thority whatever to propose or form a compact wit^ 
the U. States. . . ,^ 

The attention of the nch and munificent cannot be 
better <Ur«cted at the present moment, than towards^ a 
boy of 6 years and two months old, now In Boston, 
whose prodigious talents in arithmetical combinations, 
perhaps might challenge the worW to produce a simi- 
uir example. 

" None but hhfitelfcan be Sis paraUel" 
The child was exanniuiued a few days since by a num- 
ber of gentlemen as to the extent of his faculty. He 
answered upwards of 20Q questions of various com- 
plexity, with wonderful focUity, exhiluting at the same 
time every playful disposition of boyhood. His skill 
lies mainly in multiplication and division; and his 
quickness almost exceeds credibility.— When asked 
•* what two numbers Multiplied together will produce 
17^ V* his answer was immediate, 16 times 108—9 

times 192—12 times 144—6 times 288—3 times 57(> 
—36 thnes 48—3 times 217—72 times 24—18 times 
96 — and 32 times 54 — All the.^e ten comjji nations were 
repeated in less than half a minute. He tells the 
number of hours and minutes in almost any given 
number of years ; and the number of rods in any num- 
ber of miles. — When asked '* how many times 8 made 
492 ?" he said 61 and 4 over Innumers^e questions 
of this nature have been asked with equally accurate 

MARRIED— On Tuesday evening last, by the 
Rev. James M'LaugMin, Mr. Thomas Potts, to Miss 

Amy PotU, all of this city On Monday evening 

last, by Ocorge French, Esq. Mr. William Gifford of 
Moorestown, to Miss Naiicy Brock of Chester Town- 
ship— In New-York, the 2d inst. by the Rev. Mr. 
Broadhead, Mr. Leonard Warner, to Miss Margaret 

Hoagland The 4th inst. by the Rev. Mr. Moore, 

Mr. Hyde Somarhufyck, of the house of Bulkly and 
Somarindyck, to Miss Rebecca M. Hardenbrooi, daugh- 
ter of Mr. John A. Hardenbrook— — The 5th insunt, 
by the Rev. Mr. Jones, Mr. ^acob Mott, of the firm 
of Williams & Mott, to Miss Mary Anderum'^'^hy 
the Rev. Mr. Moore, Mr. S. W. M'Pberson^ to Miss 
Mary Sands^^^At PhiUdelphia, the 28th ult- faty the 
Rev. J. P. Wilson, Dr. Arnold Haedcnn, to Miss Mary 
Sbees'-'^At Milton, on the I4th ult. by John M'Kis- 
son, Esq.' Mr. ^obn White^ millstone-cutter, aged 73, 
to the amiaMe Miss Christiana Eremicr, aged 63! — 
Neither of the parties exceeds three feet and an half m 
height f 

DIED— On Friday morning last, Mr. Michael Far- 

ner, of this city, aged 63 At Asbwry, Sussex, on - 

the 23 ult. Mr. Daniel Hunt, merchant, in the 60th 
year of his age, a very respectable character, and much 
regretted by his acquaintance— —At Nottingham, on 
the 9th inst. after a short illness, Mrs. Susanna Pear- 
son, consort of William Pearson, Esq. of that Town- 
ship In New-York, the 1st inst. very suddenly, 

Phoebe Pearsall, relict of the late Thus. Pearsall, Esq. 
in the 74th year of her afi^e— -At Newark, on the 
2Sd ult Mr. Wm^ Donaldson, formerly coach-maker 
in New-York. 


" A LetteV from an Exile,** &c. cannot be admitted 
until we are further acquainted with the author^s plan. 

C. jD. is filed with Crispin ; ** As splendid vjorh 
should always rank together.** 

Cosmopolite's iUiberality induces us to think he is no 
citizen ^ the world. His " itinerancies across the 
ocean," have certainly given him very *' boisterous" 

Philo Musico, Monitor, Matilda, H. W, S, Cid, 
Q, N. W, Z, and some selections have safely arrived. 

Qy* The folloxving persons^ events for 
the Rural Visiter^ arc authorized to recehe 
subscriptions and give receipts on behalf cf 
the Editor: James P. Farkc^ Bookseller^ No* 
75^ Chesnut St. Philadelphia; Ezra Sargrant, 
corner of Broadway and Wall Street ^ Neiv- 
Tori: kichard M. Cooper^ Camden; David 
C lV$od^ Woodbury; Thomas Redman^ jwu 
Hdddfmfieid; SarnuelCole^ dr Gilbert PagCy 
Moorestown; Alexander Shirassy Mount- 
Holly; Isaac Carlisle^ New-Mills; Charles 
LawrerwCy Bordentown ; M. &f J* Simmons^ 
Chesterfield; Daniel Lcigh^ Allentoxvn; John 
Hajidley^ Cranberry; James Oram^ Trenton; 
S. Morfordy Princeton; Bernard Smithy N. 
Brunswick ; Simeon Drake^ Amkoy ; James 
Jackso^n^ Woodbridge; Richard Jllarsh^ Rdh- 
way; James Chapman^ Elizabeth-Town; 
Matthias Day^ Newark. Many of these per- 
sons can also forward communications for 
the Rural Visiter safely and free of expense. 

Published Weekly ^ by D. Allinson^ 


Price two Dollars sixty-two Cents for Volume firsts 
payable semi-annually in a4vance. 

Digitized by 



Homo sum ; humani nihil a me alienum puto.^^'^Man and his cares to me a man, are dear. 

VOL. I. 


No. 22. 


No. XXL 

Mulcentem tigres et agentem carnfiine quercus. 


• The Dorian mood 

Of flutes and soft recorders, such as rais'd 
To height of noblest temper heroes old 
Arming to battle ; and instead of rage 
Deliberate valour breath'd, firm and unmoved 
With dread of death, to flight or foul retreat, 
Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage 
With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase 
Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow, and pain 
From mortal or immortal minds. Milton. 

Philosophers have divided die pleasures 
which man is capable of enjoying into three 
classes. Those derived from the heart, from 
the understanding, and those which are mere- 
ly sensual. Each of these classes or kinds 
of pleasure are worthy of man ; and though 
we have been accustomed to regard *cnsual 
gratifications as unbecoming a rational crea- 
ture, and as in some dbgree incompatible 
with our duty and morality ; the opinion is 
far from being in its utmost latitude correct. 
Our external senses should ever meet with 
the regard which their importance merits ; 
though the pleasures diey afford are inferior 
in their nature to those which spring froni a 
heart refmcd by virtue, ana animated by re- 
ligion, or which flow from a mind cultivated 
by education. They should be regarded as 
they really are when under proper subordina- 
tion, wben under the guidance and direction 
of prudence and temperance, as pleasing and 
useful ministers to our more exaked and sub- 
limer faculties. But the pleasures which mu- 
*sic IfTords, are a degree above those of mere 
sense ; they are derived from' taste, from judg- 
ment and from sense reciprocally aiding, and 
acting upon each other ; they are the result 
of delightful ideas, or emotions, excited by 
means of some minute and hidden connexion 
existing between our hearts and our organs 
of hearing, by means of which certain modu- 
lations of sound awaken corresponding feel- 
ings within u?. Something more is neces- 
sary than merely a complete reception of the 
sound, to form a musical ear. Unless, be- 
sides our mere hearing and receiving each, 
even the most delicate sound, as it is pro- 
duced, we are enabled to derive pleasurable 
senaations from some combinations, and dis- 
agreeable emotions from others, unless our 
hearts and souls can vibrate in unison with 
the notes transmitted to us, we have not an 
car for imusic. 

This facultj', though frequent, is far from 
bein£j miiversal; it is capable of improve- 
menti and refinement to a most astonishing 
degree of correctness and accuracy, by cul- 
tivation and attention ; but can never be ac- 
quircjd by one naturally deficient. That taste 

and judgment are intimately concerned in 
it, appears incontrovertible ; that much of 
its influence is attributable to an association 
of ideas, is no less true. Those sounds 
which possess the greatest efficacy in exciting 
and producing pleasurable emotions and 
ideas, are those in which sweetness predo- 
minates. And the music which is most uni- 
versally admired, is that of the human voice ; 
in fact vocal music is incomparably superior 
to instrumental. But what voice ever equal- 
led in sweetness, in variet}% in every mere 
mechanical part of music the iEolian harp, 
or the flute ? In truth something more than 
mere sound is requisite ^o bring into action 
the finer feelings of the heart with full effect ; 
the words which accompany vocal music 
appear necessary to give that mellowness, 
and richness of expression which it is capa- 
ble of receiving. 

It is an observation of t)r. Beattie, and 
founded in truth, that though music is cjqpa- 
ble of exciting sentiments of a virtuous ten- 
dency, and has expressions which call forth 
our devotion, pity, benevolence and love ; 
unless under particular circumstances, unless 
there exists some strong predisposing cause 
which by the slightest touch may spring into 
a flame tiiose passions and feelings which are 
immoral in their nature, or pernicious in 
their ^tendency, can never be produced: it 
has no expression for hatred, malevolence, 
impiety, and others of a similar natute. This 
opinion is corroborated by ti^ frequent ex-- 
perience of many . individuals. Who that 
lias heard the solemn, but soul-inspiring mu- 
sic of an organ accompanied by voices, but 
must acknowledge that his soul appeared 
sublimated above the cares and thoughts of 
mortalit}% and elevated above itself? Music 
of this nature rouses the soul to sublime con- 
templation, diffuses throughout it an ecstacy 
bf bliss ; 

Borne on tlte swelling notes our souls aspire ; 
While solemn airs improve the sacred fire. 

In Switzerland there was a national tune, 
which formed a kind of cement to attach the 
natives to their country. So powerful was 
the enthusiastic patriotism called into action 
by it, that the performance of it was inter- 
dicted by the French gbvemment, among 
the Swiss regiments in their service, under 
penalty of death. But why mention instances 
to prove it ? History bears ample testimony 
to its almost supernatural powers. In ancient 
Greece it was admired as equal to any of the 
sciences, and special honours were conferred 
upon its professors. ' In Athens the seat of 
learning and of science, the study of it was 

Erescribed by positive statutes. Socrates in 
is defence- mentions this fact, and appears 
to consider it as a usefti ordinance, rlato 

in his System of Education, expresses his 
opinion mat three entire years shoi^d be de- 
voted to the acquisition of music ; and re- 
ceives it into his theoretic republic though 
the poets are discarded. And Aristotle, 
who almo^ appears to have no otfier end in 
view, throughout his ^litical works, than to 
controvert the doctrmes and opinions of 
Plato, yet agrees with him in the most un- 
qualified approbation of music. These sen- 
timents of tne most learned and enlightened 
men must have some foundation in truth. 
Music must possess some portion of merit 
to* entitie it to these encomiums. They re- 
garded it as capable in a wonderful degree 
of humanizing the savage, and softening 
down his rugged asperities* To so great an 
extent did tfc ancients carry this idea, that 
the difference of character which distinguish- 
ed the Arcadians, who were mild, humane, 
and gentle ; from their /erocious neighbours, 
was regarded as the effect of music to which 
the former were much attached. By many 
physicians music has been regarded as useful 
m removing many diseases, and numerous 
instances besides tliose which are well known, 
of the cure of Saul by David's harp, which 
'is not mentioned as an uncommon thing, and 
the cure of one of the kings of Spain by vocal 
music might wkh &cility be adduced. Whe- 
ther the effect produced was by a physical 
operation upon the corporeal or nervous sys- 
tems as many judicious persons have sup- 
posed, or by hs action upon the mind, in 
renpioving depression of sphrits, or other men- 
tal habits which so powerfully oppose conva- 
lescence, is immaterial to our present object. 
In either case its utility is great. 

After considering music in this point of 
view, as an assuager both of our mental and 
corporeal sufferings ; as the soother of our 
woes ; as capable of affording us positive and 
innocent pleasure ; as a power which can 
humanize man by raising him above die 
groveling and ferocious passions of his na- 
ture ; as the friend of virtue and an auxiliary 
to rdigion, can we forbear exclaiming with 
the impassioned bard— 

** The man that hath not music in his soul. 
And is not moved by concord of sweet sounds. 
Is fit for treasons, stnitagems, and spoils; 
The motions of his spirit are dull as night. 
And his affections dark as Erebus; 
Let no soch man be trusted.*' 



It chiUs my blood to hear the blest Supreme^ 

Roddy appealed to on each tri6ing tbeme ; 

Maintain your rank, vulgarity despise ; 

To swear is neither brave, polite, nor wise s 
Y You would not swear upon a bed ofdeath ; 
r Reflect ! yoiir ratktv now cotild stop yotfr breaTh 






jilt, the prude, demand my straifl; 

If the fantastic form offend, 

I made it not s but would amend." 

Last night after I had returned from one 
of the most agreeable t^te-a^^ visits I had 
ever paid in my Ufe, and was giving my 
imagination ftlll liberty to repay it, and prov- 
ing the pleasures I had been enjoying in the 
society ofthe interesting Delia, I was inter- 
rupted in ,ray " fairy frost work,** by the 
following letter, handed me by a little sharp* 
faced, worn-out, meagre figure of a man, who 
stuck it in my* face as- Daggerwood did his 
'* bill of fare,^? and vanished. But I marked 
him well and know him. K in the following 
he has been attempting a slur on any of the 
ladies ofthe village^ I shall chastise him for 
a libel. But mean time, to avoid being sad- 
dled with the iniquity of abetting such con- 
duct, I give- the letter itself to the woHd at 

'^ Dr. Cid, 

I address mjrself to you with the greatest 
confidence, because I conceive you to be the 
very prototype of myself. It is from your 
writingp I judge of you, not from any per- 
sonal knowledge : for I confess mysctf en- 
tirely ignorant of who you are, or what you 
are, of whether you arc any thing at all or 
no. But your style and sentiments t like, 
and therefore conceive that you and I must 
be alike : or rather that you are like me. 
' As heaven, reflected in the water, glowt:* 
But to give you a description pf myself, I 
am a little, spare, goodlooking man: not 
veiy elegant in my ictU ensemAUj but by no 
means so deficient or law in beauty as to 
make the stones leap out of my path to avoid 
being beneath me. I am active and facetious : 
forcible in my manners and luminous in my 
ideas, and was considered among the ladies 
of tfi^ place as an accomplished, witty fellow, 
until me late misfortune, which I have so 
taken to heart, that it has left me a little 
crack-brained like you. I am generally ex- 
travagandy fond of moralizing, and indeed 
of hiorali^ ; but yet I must confess I am 
sometimes— —however, as a comparison to 
you in this instance may be odioud, I drop 
it and go to my stoiy. 

I am the omy child of parents whose care 
and fondness for me have ever been unequal- 
led, except by my attachment to them. Ineir 
love induced diem to economize a very mo- 
derate fortmief and deprive themselves of 
tlie comforts of life, for the pleasure of giv- 
ing me a liberal education. My tutor early 
made me sensible of their doating partiality 
for me, and I endeavoured to cheer uieir fond 
hopes and anxieties by an assiduity, which, 
amid my present distractions, is my greatest 

I left college with honour to myself, and 
i-cturned to the residence of my parents. 
They received me with such raptures as you 
may conceive, but which I forbear to de- 
scribe. My father's occupation is that of a 
wjftch maker, and rather than leave him and 
itjy uiother in the decline of their lives, I 

obtained a situation as clerk in an attorney's 
office, where I received a salaiy, small in- 
deed J yet by economy I not only made it 
supply my own necessities, but in some de- 
gree contribute to the comfort of my parents. 
A.nd here I must observe, that though fond 
of gaiety and pleasure, I never indulged in 
them when such indulgence would take the 
smallest gratification from the authors of my 

By the friendship of a fellow collegian, I 
was introduced into all the fashionable fami-^ 
lies of our village, which was noted for its 
good society. I soon became familiar and 
a favourite ; and was gratified by seeing my 
parents more noticed than they formerly 
were by the first families of the town, and 
vanity whispered to me, that I was the cause 
of it. 

Among the young ladies, I had the good 
fortune to be most favourably received. 
Many of them were noted for their wit, 
more for their beauty ; and most for their 
colloquial talents. But as the school boy 
pursues the butterfly, I mingled in their 
society merely for recreation, left thepi un- 
concerned to enjoy my peaceful slumbers, 
and pursued next day with freedom myaeri- 
ous avocations, unaffected by 

« Those things of prettinesa and paint/ 

' Who turn, to each meander tame. 
Arid swim— the straws of every stream.' 

It was not thus with the amiable jHlia. I 
saw her first rich in beauty ; yet otliuers could 
vie with, and perhaps surpass her. I heard 
the playfulness and point of her wit, and I 
was charmed. She displayed the benevolence 
of her mind atxd the sweetness of her temper, 
and I loved— She smiled on me and admitted 
me to her favour. I yielded my heart, an 
eternal, captive to her cnarms. 

' Before the virgin vision bow'd, 
Gaz'd with an ever new delight. 
And canght fresh virtue at the sight.' 

Each^ dayjsaw in me a repetition of those 
assiduities which plainly shewed themselves 
to be the offspring of my verv soul. £ach 
evening saw me by her side — if in company, 
uneasy and unsocial ;— if with Julia alone, 
elevated, gay and happy. And generally the 
enchanting girl would take my arm, walk 
about the door of her home, permit me to 
discuss affairs of the heart, and draw in an- 
ticipation the pictures of a warm and enrap- 
tured fimcy. She even heard me talk of my 
prattlers dancing on my knee, and an amiable 
wife, in whom I drew the image of herself, 

?"acing the bowers of love and happiness, 
hus all was the calm moonliglit of delusive 
vision. My dreams repeated in still mel- 
lower colouring the realities ofthe day: and 
ere the lark, I arose to hail the glad sun of 

My parents were delighted with my ex- 
pectations ; for the subject had become the 
topic ofthe town. I was particularly caressed 
by the parents of Julia. She was their dar- 
ling, and they yielded' every thing to her 
wishes. One evening I ventured to speak to 
her of my love t but she suddenly adverted 
to some gay object ^nd held me in uncertain- 
ty. Thrice I made the essay, and thrice I 

was left suspended in the same doubt. Five 
years have now passed since our first ac- 
quaintance. I have, during this time, pur- 
sued with great earnestness the study of the 
law, am admitted to the bar as a practitioner, 
and the death of an uncle has put me in 
possession of a little patrimony by no means 
contemptible. With these to encourage nic» 
I wrote the other day to Julia, urging my af- 
fection, solicitmg an engagement, 2cdA point- 
ing to my anticipated success in the law, as 
the aera that would see us happy in the frui- 
tion of conjugal felicity. What was my sur- 
prise and horror when I received the follow- 
ing reply ! 

* I shall be always happy to rank }'ou 
among the number of my most particular 
friends, but never had^ nor ever can have^ 
the slightest thought of a closer connection. 


Thus has the sun at last arisen and dis- 
persed the deceitful forms of moonlight. I 
am not one of those meltmg Jellies, Mr. Cid,, 
that stand persuasive in a wmdow, soliciting 
the passer to come taste their bitterness — 
I have lost my peace — ^^y heart is broken' — 
but I sh|U not seat m}^elf to moan in the 
shade of the cypress or of the weeping wil- 
low,, to be cooed to by the dove, or hooted 
at by the qw1*»I shall abandon my hated 
country — Yet ere I go, permit me, through 
you, a word to JuBa: 

* Your birth, your fortune, false heaWed 
Julia, are beyond my expectations. But why 
like your favourite nightingale did you not 
restrain me within the limits of friendship ? 
Why did you lead me to the opened gates of 
Elyshim, and when, one JEbot-waa already 
over the threshold, debar me from an en- 
trance ? The ice on Snowden's summit re- 
flects the sunbeam in frigid security till the 
too near approach of die luminary softens, 
by direct ray$y itsj glassy surface, and pre- 
cipitates it weeping to the abyss below. 

What now is necessary to the completion 
of yom- triumphs ? You have other lowers. 
Beware you smile and smile again upon 
diem, if they be monkies that will cringe and 
swear * You wcfe not quite divine till now.' 
But if they prove to be men, and cliallenge 
reciprocity, Uien throw at them your vinegar 
looks and teach them their obeisance. While 
they * flatter, sigh and languish,' be to diem 
as the undidating spring * whose image is 
constant to no man.' But shoidd all of them 
desert you — ^lOok in your miiTor and see the 
dear object of your love by whom you will 
never be forsaken.' 

I write this Mr. Cid, for you to publish 
in the Rural Visiter after my departure 
from this countrj'. I hope all the young 
ladies who read it, and who have charms 
sufficient to entitle them to the hope of get- 
ting married, will adopt a conduct the re- 
verse of Julia's. And tliose whose: \Tinit} 
has induced them to cherish a crowd of ad- 
mirers — let me pray they will like t^ic cpck- 
sparrow in the fable, become 

* Of all their little sleights disarm'd, 
Aad by my nrongs lo virtue charm'd/ 

Yours forever, 


Digitized by 




To the Ladies. 

I do not perceive any cause for' what the 
above whipper-sn?.pper has been whimpering 
about. For we always jutlj^e of others by 
ourselves : and I am in high favour and 
hopes with my Delia : — 

To the Gentlemen. 

Fl)", fond aUvent'icrs ! fly the art 
That courts yoiir eye with gay attire s 

Who smiles to win the heedless Leart, 
Will smile to see that heart expire. 

Be counselled by me — Take warning of 
the above unhappy swain-=— Never go Phi- 
Imderinpj after the ladies : but follow the 
advice of a neighbouring poet : 

*» 'Tia better far to let the thing alone." 




With anxious doubts, whh gloomy cares opprest," 
One calm still evening 1 had sunk to rest ; 
My xnind still wandering Add to some vain thought, 
And still new troubles to my fancy brought; 
Where'er I tum*d my eyes, the clouds o'crCast 
The future's view, and darken'd e'en the wwt. 
No beam of hope remained my breast to cTieer, 
But all was* gloomy, desolate, and drear. 
Ami where, I cried, am I Co find repose— 
Where a sur^ refuge from ipy many woes ? *• 
Such gloomy thoughts disturb'd my care-worn breast, 
I'ill gentle sleep my sorrows sooth *d to rest. 
Tlien to my cye» a vision bright appeared, 
llelieved my cares*— my troubled bosom cheer*d. 
Me thought a nymph-like maid, with cheerful eye. 
With vest that rivall'd far fam'd Tyrian dye; 
HcT hair loose-flowing x6 the gentle wind. 
Hung in sweet negligence and fell behind; 
Her sandals bright with yellow ribands boand ; 
Fler airy form scemM scarce to touch the ground ; 
Hcur Ilmko^ l>«iBpoU« » awui r«w«M ^«*oion tree, 
At the first glance I hail'd Euphrosyne. 
As when the sun displays his brilliant face. 
And his bright beams the gloomy vapours diase^— 
So look'd the maid, and every fear dispell'd. 
Though still with care my gloomy bosom swell'd. 
And while I gaz*d upon the lotely rn^, 
With anxious, curious eye, to her I sW — 
•* For what kind purpose, do you ndw appear? 
Can such a wretch ^s I attract your care }!' 
When tliusthe maid, with eye benign, andmild« 
Look'd like a mother on her favourite child; 
'* I conne to sooth yoor su£ferings and assuage 
Tlie misdirected transports of your ragje : 
To dissipate yom- cares, dispel your woe. 
And the sure road to hap])iness to show. 
My aim is mercy ; kind to point ilie way 
By which to brighten every futiirc day. 
Your lot is good ; compare your state with those 
Who from life's entrance, to its final close 
Have borne with sorrow, yet who still are blest ; 
With what superior powers are they possest ? 
View countless thousands stript of every bliss, 
Sec others hanging o*er the steep abyss, 
View their endeavours, striving to sustain 
Those woes, which spite of discontent remain. 
See x^eir al&ict ions— thy complaints then leave, 
Till thou, as they, hast real cause to grieve. — 
View yonder hovel— let us enter there. 
See the poor wretch expos'd to winter's air; 
Dcceml)cr's wind ponrs through the broken panes, 
One solitary stick of wood remains. 
See on the bed he lies jn death's last pangs. 
His thread of life on one short moment hangs ; 
Sec o'er his couch, that woc-wom figure preis— 
Hid wife, the partner of his worst distress. 
By coniitant watchings, and by anxious care, 
Her form 19. wasted, and hereyc-balls glare. 
Stnall hold ha<i she en earth ; the fatal dart 
With whicli death strikes her wretched husband's hearty 
Shall snap the tender cord of her sad life, 
And take at once the husband and the wife. 
Who then shall act the parent's arduous part > 
Who shall direct that infant's yo^Jthful heart f 

Where shall he fly for succour in distress ? 
Who with a smile will his exertions bless ? 
Poor hapless orphan ! dread misfortune's child ! 
Thou art already of each hope despoil'd I 
Atone thou stand'st ; no parent's watchful care 
Shall guard thy slumbers ; thou art misery's heir. 

These are the scenes, where real misery dwdls» 
Their sea of life in dreadful tempests swells; 
And canst thou view stidv scenes, and still complain 
Of fancied woes ? From such a sin refrato. 
Dare not with impious rage to blame your Cod 
For mildly chastening with affliction's rod. 
•~" " ■ " ;, though e'en the purest joy 

^ n, possesses some alloy ; 

"^ , unless your eyes are blind, 

] me solace yon may find., 

ly shadow will you throw 
1 jnes where pleasures brightest glow ? 

'^ ^ur, such unceasing toil 

] of happiness thus spoil V* 

Thus spake the nymph, and straight she wing'd hey 
To the bright regions of eternal day t 
Around her form, bright throngs of sylphs were seen. 
Bending in homage to their lovely queen. 
As the mild rainbow after summer's shower 
Gives certain token that the storm is o'er; 
So did her gentle accents bliss impart, 
And soothed the sufferings of my troubled heart. 


One morn when May in every beauty dight, 
Added fresh bloom to morning's earliest light ; 
When nature scem*d to glow with brighter charms. 
And fled were icy winter's fierce alarms : 
Julia— >a sweet, bewitching, charming maid, 
As through the fields in quest of flowers she strayed, 
Plock'd from the pensile spray, a lovely rose 
Which just began its beauties to disclose. 
Bending its parent stem ; which scarcely rears 
Itft-Atawn^iU JUM«MKth %K«. \»«Mrt>ien which it bears. 
Thus does the infant on its mother's t>re»»i 
Fatigue and weary, yet is lov'd the best ; 
And thus with wond'rous power the lovely boy 
At once the source of misery and joy. 
Proves to his mother's woes a solace sure, 
And gives those sorrows he alone can cure. 

Julia, whose limning skill could far transcend 
The works of artr-e'en nature's faults could mend : 
Whose fancy could combine — select— arrange 
The various charms of nature's aa>|)le range, 
Determin'd now her Utmost powers to show. 
And give her copied rose all nature's glow. 
Beneath her hand, behold the rose has grown 
A flower, wjiich. Nature ! equals e»en thine own. 
Pleas'd with success, the now triumphant maid 
The much loved effort of her skill displayed, 
The rival roses on her breast she plac'd. 
Mere gracing them, than being by them grac'di 
Expecting triumph, she displays the flowers. 
The offspring of her own, and nature's powers. 
None could discern, so perfect was her art. 
The slightest difference in the slightest part ; 
When lo ! a$ if to check her high swoln pride, 
Two bees who rov'd the fields, the flowers espied \ 
With rapid pinions deav'd the liquid air, 
And bent their course where stood the joyful^oir ; 
Towards the flowers, direct their eager flight. 
And on the artful rose the bees alight. 
But soon— too soon, they find.their sad mistake, 
And with swift haste, th' imposture they forsake, 
lliey find that nature's rose, the honey yields 
In quest of which, they range th* extensive fields. 
Their error saw— and ladies thus may you 
Learn to prefer to what is false, the true. 
Learn from the fate of Julia's boasted flower. 
That she who rashly spurns at nature's power 
May for a time, the quickest sight deceive. 
But soon to nature, she the field must leave. 
—That as in roses, so in female hearts. 
True merit never coincides with arts ; 
A false exterior may our senses blind. 
But true desert springs only from the mind ; 
Superior to the charms our eyes admire, 
Your inward charms will more the lover fire. 
These can alone defy the power of time. 
And e'en in age preserve the glow of prime ; 
These are the charms, which can all force o'ercome, 
And live beyond the precincts of the tomb, 2. 


'* Just as the twig b bent, the t|ree'8 incUn'd." 

The education of youth is a subject of the 
greatest importance. The morals, and 
claims to future respectabiKty, of this inter- 
esting partof the community, depend so much 
lipon it, that he who wilfuHy ne^ects the 
education of his offspring, omits the per- 
formance of a duty, which he ought to con- 
sider as indispensible* It is not my wish 
to enter into a consideration of the obligations 
which a parent liea under to his children^ in 
this repsect, when his fortune is such as will 
enable him to give them a tolerable share of 
leammg. These obligations are well under- 
stood ; and I add with pleasure, that they 
are, by no means, generally neglected. My 
present essay is occasioned by reflecting up- 
on the number of poor children in different 
neighbourhoods, whose parents are unable 
to send them to school. In tliis respect, 

" How many — — — 
Solicit the cold hand of charhy ! 
To shock us more— solicit it in vain ! 

What is to become of these ? are thty to 
be lost in a great measure, to themselves, and 
to society ? are they to grow up, in wealthy 
neighbourhoods, without learning, at least, 
to read and write the language which they 
speak? In several of the New-England 
states, schools are considered as a public 
charge. They are supported by a tax, to- 
wards which everyone contributes, not in 
proportion to the number of children which 
he sends, but in proportion to the amount of 
property which he possesses. Here then, 
is a fair opportunity for the poor to send 
their children to school, with litde, or no 
expense. In some neighbourhoods, funds 
have been established by particular branches 
of religious societies, for the express pur- 
pose of schooling poor children. This de- 
note* a spirit of liberality, truly honourable. 
After having themselves felt the benefit and 
pleasure resulting from, an early acquaint- 
ance with the principles of the Christian re- 
ligion, and having had their minds enlight- 
ened by the lessons of instruction, how noble 
is it, to devote alitdeof the property, which 
a beneficent Providence has put into their 
hands, to initiating those pennyless sons of 
fortune, in the principles of that religion, 
which they have embraced — in qualifying 
them to pass through life reputably, and use- 
fully—and in'openbg to them the book of 
knowledge, which had else been closed to 
them forever. The man who does this, feels 
a pleasure within, which he could never know 
in the gratification of self. 

The example of those New-England states, 
to which I have alluded, is I think, worth 
following. The benevolence of the estab- 
lishers of the funds I have mentioned, is in- 
deed praiseworthy, and I hope will incite 
others to follow their example. But in Bur- 
lington, we see a society of young ladies spok- 
en of by the philanthropic J. S. in the 14th 
number of tne Rural Visiter, nobly devo- 
ting their time to the instruction of poor fe- 

'Digitized by 




*' When smiling fortune spreads her golden ray. 
All croud around to flatter, and bbey ; 
But when she thunders from an angry sky. 
Our friends, our ^ttcrers. our lorers fly." 

But here is philanthropy in the true sense 
of the word — practical philanthropy — phi- 
lanthropy that doubtless flows from the 
heart- Will they ever regret having devoted 
a portion of their time to the indulgence of 
their philanthropic feelings ? I answer, No. 
In years to come, they may look around and 
see here and there individuals filling respecta- 
ble stations, whom their fostering care snatch^ 
ed from misery; whom their philanthropy led 
to kijowledge and to usefulness. Will not a 
consciousness of this-— do not the feelings 
which they even now enjoy in the discharge 
of this laudable undertaking, amply compen- 
sate for the privations which they undergo I 
Doubtless they do. One, who to the greater 
number of this litde institution, is perhaps 
entirely unknown, but who feels warnaly in- 
terested in their success, would encourage 
diem then to persevere. Let them, with the 
assistance of an approving Providence, glad 
the heart of a mother, with the promised 
respectability of ^er daughter, and the tears 
of gratitude which flow from both, shall be 
a feast to their souls. In this " lowly vale" 

" — there be, that by due stcpS aspire 
To lay their just hands on that golden key. 
That opes the palace of eternity." 

Let them instruct them in this holy aspi- 
ration—teach them to be reconciled to their 
situation — ^bid them 

•* Sink not beneatli imaginary sorrows; 
Call to their aid, their courtige and their wisdom ; 
Think on the sudden change of human scenes; 
Think on the mighty power of awful virtue; 
Think on that Providence that guards the good.'* 

Amanda was the daughter of parents, re- 
markable only for their poverty azKl inno- 
cence. By a society of young ladies, much 
similar to the one of ^'fiich I have already 
spoken, her miqd was instructed in the first 
principles of literary knowledge. After at- 
tending school, for the first time in her life 
only a few months^ she was obliged to leave 
it in consequence of her assistance being 
wanted vtt home, to wait upon her aged mo- 
ther. But at home, she forgot not what she 
had learned at school. The liberality of her 
former tutoresses supplied her with such 
hooks as she needed j she often using them 
after her parents had retired to rest. Though 
poor, yet the mind of Amanda was formed 
of no courser materials (if 1 may be allowed 
the term) than that of a Madame Dacier. 
AVith reading and contemplation it expand- 
ed, and she was now as remarkable for her 
rapid improvement, as she had formerly 
been for her ignorance, when the tutoresses 
already mentioned took her under their care. 
She naturally possessed an amiable diaposi* 
tion, and a heart that wished no eviL This 
disposition, this goodness of hearty was en- 
couraged by the powerful language of exam- 
ple and precept when at school. As Amanda 
increased in years, her unsullied chai*acter 
and amial^lencss of disposition made her 
observed. Indeed her former benefactors 
v/erc interested in her fortunes. Her com* 
\):\ny was avoided by npne, but rather sought 

by many of the most respectable in the neigh- 
bouihood. Damon became acquainted with 
her — at length he loved her — she owned a 
congenial feeling, and they were married. 
His father was ^ respectable farmer in the 
neighbourhood, and he settled them with 
pleasure on a beautiful litde farm, where 
they now live virtuously, happily and re- 
spected by all who know them. Often with 
tears warm from the soul, io they acknow- 
ledge^ to the early instructors of Amanda, 
the debt of gratitude which they are con- 
scious of owing ; fully believing that their 
kindnessy smiled upon by Providence, was 
the means of guiding her to respectability 
and happiness. ERASMUS. 


On the injurious effects of clover to orchards^ 
in a letter from Wm. Coxe, Esq. of this 
citi/y to Judge Peters; extracted from The 
Agricultural Memoirs. 

Burlington, February 5th, 1808. 

The opinion that clover possesses some 
property injurious to the growth of apple 
trees, had been suggested to me by several 
men of observation and practical informa- 
tion, previous to the receipt of your letter of 
last spring. Some of my^own experiments 
in the planting of orchards had not succeeded 
to the extent of my expectations, and their 
failure was ascribed to the cultivation of 
clover. I was well convinced of the benefi- 
cial eflfects which -l»««^'^^en<lerivctl to die 
agriculture of our country from the introduc- 
tion of clover, and being desirous of availing 
myself of its ameliorating properties in the 
improvement of my farm, I was alarmed by 
an apprehension of its interference with a 
favourite scheme I had in contemplation; 
that of enriching my neighbourhood and im- 
proving^ my own property, by the introduc- 
tion of tha finest table and liquor fruits of 
Europe and America, into an cjftensive or- 
chard establishment on my lands in the vici- 
nity of this town* I therefore determined 
to ascertain the truth of the opinion by a 
series of experiments. These I have exe- 
cuted with care j and the result has perfecdy 
convinced me, that young orchards thrive 
in proportion to the goodness of the soil, and 
the degree of cultivation bestowed on them ; 
that the injury they sustain from grass or 
grain, depends on die extent to which the 
particidar growth or nature of that grass or 
grain, may prevent the communication of 
moisture and nourishment to the roots of the 
trees from th^ earth or atmosphere : that so 
far as clover produces this effect, it is inju- 
rious i but that it has nothing in its natiue 
peculiarly deleterious. On the contrary^ its 
long tap roots penetrating smd dividing the 
soil, increases very much its capacity to 
nourish the roots of the trees ; and did it 
not afford an inviting food to field-mice and 
moles, it would be iound less pernicious to 
orchards than any permanent grass, or any 
species of grain whichshall be permitted to ar- 
rive at full maturity on the ground,buck-wheat 
alone excepted. The point of most import- 
ance in the planting of young trees, is t6 pre- 
seryetheroots so nearthe surface of the earth, 

that by keeping the soil around them in s» 
loose and mellow state,free from weeds, grain 
or grass, diey may feel the salutary influence 
of the sun, air and rain ; the last of which 
in our dry elimatc is particularly essential to 
their success, for several years after plant- 
ing ; for this reason all kmds of fallow crops, 
such as potatoes, vines and Indian com, par- 
ticularly the last, are peculiarly adapted to the 
first and second year^« cultivation of or- 
chards. An opinion prevails amdng our 
farmers that Jye is a more pernicious crop 
for orchards than any other grain; for diis 
I can see no sound reason. I am induced 
from my own obsen^arion to believe, that all 
grains are injurious, in proportion to their 
proximity to the tree, their power of exhaust- 
mg tile moisture, and fi^om their colour or 
t\&a surfece producing a great proportion of 
intense reflected heat. I am so fully con- 
vinced of this truth that I have the last sum- 
mer caused a circle of three to six feet dia- 
nftcter, to be dug at two several tinacs round 
every tree in my orchards, not under the 
plough, whether among wheat^ rye, oats or 
grass ; and although this openvdon when 
extended to several thousand trees, which 
at presen^compose mv orchards, necessarily 
is productive of much expense and trouble, 
I am i^paid .fourfold tn the increased vigour 
of my tl-ees, and stifl mere in their preserva- 
tion fix>m our summer droughts. Although 
I pretend to the merit of no new discovery 
in the cultivation of orchards, I may claim 
that of sparing no pains or expense in plant- 
ing, pruning and cultivating them. That 
you may be enabled to judge of my mode of 
treating them, and the foundation for the 
opmiottfi. I l»av£ ventured to offer^ 1 iave 
taken the liberty of extracting from my books 
the notes of several of my experiments, which 
I can venture to assert were made with care 
and recorded with accuracy.* I have for 
many years dcriwd a great degree of plea- 
sure from tMrpursuit of this subject ; it is ia 
its nature calcttlated to a8brd much rational 
enjoyment to an active mted, and if I am 
not hiuch deceived, will prove a source of 
substantial comfort and profit to the prudent 
practical farmers of our country. If my ex- 
ertions tan in any degree add to die nume- 
rous inducements which already exist, to 
urge our landed ^ndemen to improve their 
estates by plantations of the finer kinds of 
table and liquor fruits, I shall be amply re- 
warded for the time and money I have ex- 
pended in the pursuit. 

From the result of my experiments, I in- 
fer that trees planted without manure in the 
holes, and the roots covered with the sur- 
face earth with an external covering of mel- 
low mud or rich mould, is the best mode for 
the first year. That if the ground is poor^ 
stable manure is the least proper kind to be 
used, being from its nature least able to 
resist the destructive eflfects of our summer 
droughts, and affording abetter for vermin 
equally pernicious in the winter, particularly 
in light soils ; that rich earth or ri\^r and 
meadow mud ameliorated by frost or putre- 
faction, either in its simple state, or mixed 
with ashes, lime, or penealy rotten dung;, 

• See Ag«cnltural rrfeinoirs. p. 12(^—125. 

Digitized by 




is of all others, after the fitst year, the best 
dressing, to be ispre&d dn the surface and 
ploughed In. — That fcxiltivation isiessantial 
to the growth of oi-chrtrds, which thrive in 
proportion to ^he degree trf it ivhidh *ey 

I have, under a fuU^jonviciioB-of the cor- 
Ts-'ctness of these opinions, this fall planted 
unodier orchard of four hundrecl and eighty 
trees, one half 'of fiuropeaa and the o&ier 
lialf of American kinds, in a ti^, 'sandy 
soil, with two cartloads of meadow mud, 
spread in a circle of «boiit ten feet diame- 
ter round each -tjree oh *the sttrfaoe of the 
earth. This ground 1 meiin to coltivJite in 
com and other ialtew •drops for two 5rears, 
when I hope the ^trecs "iM be siffiidiently 
established to aflmlt of winter gi-ate and clo- 
ver. This is the mode I prefer from my 
past experience, cind I hafVe little doUbt of its 
complete success, especially if the further 
precaution of digging once or twice round 
each tree in each season is attended to (whe- 
ther the ground be sown witli ^raln or clo- 
ver), for two or three years. It may not be 
amiss here to metitidn, th^ I do ndtihcludc 
buckwheat in the ipemicious list of grains, 
because it keeps the grontfd in a loose state, 
and ripens a£t a season of l!he }^ear if/hcn no 
injury is prodaced by it to tne trefes; and 
from its pekJBiiar growth ahdicobms I doubt 
whedier buckwtiteat ripenin(g ev«i in July, 
would produce a sufficient dagrefe of reflect- 
ed heat to be injiirioiis to an orchard. 

Ybuts, fee 
Wm. Cox«. 

fOR THt KtmAL ViBlTtR. 

'* Youn^ chiWrcn die. 
In pit hole» rot," 

I HAVE no doubt dT ihe^g^d intentions olT 
Rural Visjter, beginbiifg 

the author of a Iklle pr 

|i|po«'2aof thi; 

._^ ^ ^ J With the above 

lines ; and not for £e s^eof findmg fault do 
I here notice them ; but I conceive them to 
be ill calculated to dnswer the put^se Speci- 
fied by the author. They may indeed im- 
press the mind of a child with a very dread- 
mi and loathsome picture of the end of thb 
body, and perlw^ps arrest and puzzle hife 
opening faculties with some obscure notion^ 
of future rewards attd {)Uhishihetits ; t)Ut afe 
the first ideas of children are derived through 
the medium of the senses, as their hopes and 
fears respectively are most powerfully excit- 
ed by the expectation of sensual gratifica- 
tions, and the dread of corporeal suffering, is 
it not to be feai-ed that the most forcible and 
lasting impression which a child would re- 
ceive from tjie verses alluded tb, Would be 
that o{?i^t(^f>f death. 

I am aCTpipitited with a circumstance of a 
child of about four yeajs oW, who has actu- 
ally imbibed^K) strong a dread of th^ppon- 
summation OTthe body as to occasion her 
f! lends much unGasiness^ and consideirable 
pains to divert her attention from the subject. 
Now I cannot suppose that the author of the 
verses v^uld wish to represent to the infant 
mind, as an objfect of terror, th«t mortality 
to which all arc Gable. 

To be brki^ I conceive that the frat db- 
ject bf education ou^ht to be -to form good 
AttWf»^Tather than to mcukate much religious 
or eVen moral instruction. The first autho- 
iity naturally acknowkdged by a child is that 
of parents- -to these he first looks uj> for pro- 
tection-^hese are the^rftt objects of his af- 
fection. This naturally suggests the first 
niior^ law^ or moral habit (tf I may so 
speA), viz. Filial affection and in^lkit 
submission to ^parental authority. If these 
be properly imjfressed in early life, we shall, 
I apprehend, lirfve done our part to prepare 
the mind for a higher dispensation^ when 
the understanding shalH)e capable of receiv- 
ing it. 

I do not wish to occupy much rdom with 
the ^scussion of this subject ; but I bought 
it might not be ami^s to draw the attention 
of .parents to it, befdre they should adopt a 
plan,tlie consequences of which "may be last- 
m^^y injurious to their o&pring. 


The produce of l)ees is moi^ profitable 
than the generality of pel^ons may be inclin- 
ed to imagine, and the time bestowed upon 
them is seldom uselessly emjdoyed. 

A French bishop being about to mate his 
annual viskation, sent word to a certain cu- 
rate, whose ecclesiastical benefice was ex- 
tremely triflin|r, that he meant to dine with 
him ; at the same time requesting that he 
would not put himself to any extraordttuuy 

expense^ ^The curate promised to attend 

to the bishop's suggestion, but be did not 
keep his word, for he provided a most sump- 
tuous entertainment. His lordship wad much 
surprised, bat could not help censuring the 
conduct of the curate, observing, that it was 
liighly ridiculous in a man whose circum«> 
stances were so narrow, to launch out into 
such expense^ nay, almost to dissipate his 
eiltire income in a single day. — " Do not be 
uneasy on that score, my lord," replied the 
curate, " for I assure you that what you now 
see is not the produce of my curacy, which I 
bestow exclusively upoh the poor.'* ** Then 
you have a patrimony, sir !" said die bishop. 
*' No, sir.'* " You speak in ridges ; how- 
do you then do ?»» " My lord, I have a con- 
vent of young damsels here, who do not let 
ine waht for any thing.^ ** How ! you have 
a convent !— I did not know that tiiere was 
one in this tieighbourhbod. Thht is tXL very 
strange, very unaccountable, Mr. Curate. ' 
" You are jocular, my lord,^ — ^** But come, 
sir, I entreat thst you would solve the e- 
nigma; I wcnld fain «ee the convent.*' " So 
you shall, my lord, after dinner ; and I pro- 
mise you that your lordship shall be satisfied 
with my conduct." 

Accordingly when dittncfr tj^as oter, the 
curfete conducted the prelate to a large eticlo- 
^ sure, entirely occupied by bee-hives, and 
pbin^g to the latter, observed, ** This, my 
lord, is the convent which gave us our din- 
ner; it brings me in about 1800 livres per 
annum^ upon which t live very comfortably, 
and with idych I contrive to entertain ray 
guests gent^ly.** The surprise and satis- 

faction of the bishop at this discovery may 
easily be conceived. The sequel of the story 
informs us diat afterwax^, whenever a cu- 
rate made application to hia lordBhip for an 
improved living, he would only reply, "keep 
bees't-^iceep bees." 




The light of Cyntkia scarce was seen. 

Reflected tfaroug^ a hazy air. 
As forth I went the other e'en, 

Abfldib<d ift thoi^ht and sunk in cave. 

My way led through a lonely wood, 

A gloom on every object hong. 
And as I jogg*d in pensive ino^, 

I sometimes whistled— sometimes sung. 

A something rttnght my eager eye, * 

Imagination lent its aid, 
I knew not how to pass it by. 

Yet felt aaham*d to be afraid. 

It Wore the figure of a sage, 
. Reclin'd be sat beside the yay; 
His beard was silver'd o*er by ago. 
His mantle of an iron grey« 

benignly aweet he smU'd on me. 

As tf he wish'd to banish feUr s 
1 ventured on— he seem'd to be 

liicrtdis«d in bulk, as I dnw xitsit, 

A chill ran through my creeping blood» 
Egad, my heart began to jun>p,— 

Before the figure now I stood* 
Aiidl*»iai«d my arm, aiWI fclfr-ftstnnip. 

N. W. 


" And now abideth faith, hope, and charity, tl^ose 
three, bttt ttac'gteiltest of ihiey^ is charity/' 

1 Cor, xiii. 13. 

Threb niters of one hHtvenly parent bom, 
IBLeligion brighten and the church adorn ; 
The eldest, fiuth, With revelation's eyes. 
Through reason's shades the reahns of bliss dcsprics ; 
Brings Heaven in realizing prospect home, 
And antedates the happiness to come. 
The second, hojie, Vith life-bestowing smile, 
Lightens each woe, and softens human toil; 
Bidding the thought-dejected lieart ascend ^ 

To that West place where every care shall end. 
The yotmgest, charity, a seraph guest ! 
With cletneAt goodness warms the social breast ; 
Her boundless view and compFchcrisive rtiind, 
Sees and pursues the weal of human kind : 
And taught to emulate the throne above, 
Girasps all creation in the links of love ! 
Yet two df these, though dai^ters of the zky. 
Boast short duration, and are born to die ! 
For faith shall end in vision—- hope in joy. 
While charity, immortal and sublime, 
^all mock the darts of death and wreck of time. 
When nature shrinks, herself the prey 6f fire, 
And all the monuments of art expire ! 
She shall emerge triumphant from the iiame, 
The teme her lustre, and her worth the same. 
Conf^as'd shall shine, to saints tad angels khown^ 
Approv*d, distinguish*d, near the eternal throne. 


See how beneath the moon beam's smile. 
Ton little billow heaves its breast. 

And foams and sparkles for a while. 
And murmuring* then subsides to rest. 

Thus man, the sport of bliss and cire. 
Rises on Time's eveittfid sea; 

And, having vk^VA a moment there, 
Digscrtvcs into eternity I 

Digitized by 




wi t 



Mr. AUinsoTu 

As your paper appears to be devoted to 
• useful knowledge, I take the liberty of send- 
ing you the following dissertation on a branch 
of wit that is almost universally tried at, but 
ivhich has not, as far as I know, been yet 
reduced to rule* 

The art of punning is one of those happy 

inventions that have armed wit on the side 

of dulness, and taught even nonsense to raise 

a grin. It seems originally to have been 

jUi^ly a department of wit which has been 

^^^Bd by dulness into a magnificent edifice, 

-^Hpned with all the flowers of speech and all 

the furniture of learning. Your true dis- 

sertator always begins at the fountain head, 

and ascertains the meaning and origin of his 

science 4>efore he explains it, and it is not 

for me to open a new road. 

The word i^«, seems to' be of Gothic 
origin ; but as I doubt whether my readers 
have enough learning to follow me in the 
chase of it, I shall content myself with 
seeking a more modem derivation. For 
derivations are like causes in philosophy— 
every professor has one of his own. At first 
I thought of tainting for it in the Latins ; but 
the Latins themselves expressed the meaning 
of the word by a circumlocution. I then 
imagined it might come from ourown word, 
to puzzle ; for as z is the last letter of the 
alphabet, it could easily be omitted as of no 
consequence, and all the world knows that 1 
is the next letter but one to n. But were 
this true, I should lose a fine opportunity of 
displaying my learning. I therefore adopted 
the French, double entendre^ as its original ; 
though I must confess I took the hint from 
Mr. Dufief.- This formula will explain my 

double entendre^ 

d^u ^ntendj 

p^u Uen^ 

f PU N.* 

Having thus ascerts^ined the origin of the 
term, I proceed to the history of the science. 
The Egyptians were probably its inventors, 
as their hieroglyphics seem to be a frag- 
ment of the art. From them it passed to the 
Greeks, who assiduously cultivated it. The 
Delphic oracle was long famous for its pun- 
ning anewers, which always tallied exacdy,^ 
let things go as they would. But the first 
authentic Punster we know of is Old Poly- 
phemus, or to speak more correctly, Ulysses, 
who took advantage of the former^s being 
unable to see double,, and thus sneaked out 
of his cave. 

Several branches of the Pun were brought 
to perfection by the lesser Greek authors, as 
may be seen in the various relicts of wings, 
hearts, and arrows they have left to us. I 

* Johnson seems to deduce the word pun from 
dench— c/pncA— c//»J«— Ptt«. 

•' I know not whence this word is to be deduced. 
To fiunis to grind or belt with a pettk. Can pun mean 
an empty sound like that of a mortar beaten, as 
elencbf the okL word for pun, sf^eaSi only a •orruption 
of <MkP** td. 

do not find that the Romans were ever re- 
markable for their skill in punning ; though 
the art was still cultivated. It survived 
during the long period of Gothic darkness, 
and gradually spread over aU Europe. Italy, 
Spain, France, and Eagland successively 
received it, and it is now universally agreed 
that Philadelphia is the seat of Empire. 

The Pun may be divided into the legiti- 
mate and illegitimate, or witty and dull Pun. 
The first is one of the happiest spedes of 
wit, and the latter one of the most common. 
I shall treat of them in order. 

First, In the true Pun^ the meaninff when 
taken either way is witty, and in boUi wavs 
is applicable to the subject. It should not fee 
in the least forced ; for it is in forced wit as 
in forced meats — there is less of what it 
takes its name from, than of every thing else. 
A true Pun is one of the rarest species of 
wit*— the best I recollect at present, is an 
address to tea in the Miseries of Human 

•* Nee tea cum possum vivtre 
Ifec sine tea"* 

** Swift's Quid Rides" isof this class. An 
epigram frequently contains a good pun, and 
it is the best form in which one can be pre- 

Second, The false pun maybe defined a 
la mode de Johnson, mechanical dulness. 
It is one of those wooden stilts on which 
Dulness gets above his nei^bour's should- 
ers—one of those mimic feces with which he 
hides his leaden phiz, and sets the world a 
grinning at his silliness. There are several 
varieties ; but the original one seems to be 
that left-handed kind of wit which only 
grasps at one side of a word and leaves the 
other floating in the chaos of no meaning. 
The wit, or ludicrous assemblage it posses- 
ses, is confined to sound ; whereas the true 
pun extends it to the idea. Swan*s famous 
auack on Dr. Linegar and the reply, are 
instances of my position. Most of the puns 
of professed punsters are of this class ; for 
wit is a chance thought ; and he who begins 
With a determination to be 9mart, generally 
ends with being dulL It is this class also 
which has been the butt of wits in all ages, 
and which has brought such unmerited dis- 
grace on the witty, classical and legitimate 

♦ The following excellent pun of Dr. Johnson^ 
which he quotes with a slight alteration from Virg, 
Geor. may be classed with the above. 
*^ Tea veniente die, tea decedente requiro** 

(To be concluded in our next J) 


The celebrated Milton, while he was a 
youth, preparing to enter on his travels over 
Europe, asked advice of Sir Henry Wotten, 
as to the general manner of conducting him- 
self ;'^ who gave him the following rule 
" Keep your thoughts close, and y< 
tenance open, and you may go si 
the world.'* 

y<mr ( 


A woman and a glass hm never out of 
danger. * I 



Imitated ^from St. PduTi MpUtU to the Romant, 
chap. vii. 

Why does my breast with horrid strife, 

Like restless ocean swell f 
O why 'gainst Thee— Most Holy Life ! 

Must thus my soul rebel ? 

In conflicts toss*d, my bleeding heart 

Two angry wills iiuflame; 
Two men innate, with cruel art» 

Its every passion daim. 

Widi gentlest mein one points to thee; 

£mbower*d in light abKrire : 
Allures with smiles my fealty. 

And courts my yielding love. 

The other, like the furious storms. 

In passion's whirl assails; 
My feeble soul with sin deforms* 

And 'gainst thy goodness raiU. 

That with celestial pencil, draws 

The beauteous forms in heaven ; 
Thy glory paints— unfurls thy laws. 

In love and mercy given. 

This— clinging firm to earth, enslaves 

My heart in pleasure's chains ; 
Of joy's delirious visions raves, 

And life's enraptured pains. 

So wintry winds and vernal gslefi. 

Protracted strife maintain ; 
The gentler yields.— the strong prevails : 

—Stem winter holds her reign. 

Ohf bid the waning winds " be still l^ 

Oh ! chain the wintry storm ; 
Let Spring's soft breath creation fill. 

Her sun creation warm. 

AhJ ! I roam in anguish keen;. 

My soul is pierced bv woet 
Ahu t why should I stiU be seen 

la worldly ways to go ^ 

That which I would I ful to do. 

And do what I despise : 
Ah ! where is peace? how shall I go 

Where Heaven's pathway lies ? 

O heavenly grace 1 O ray divine! 

€k>me calmly heaviog breast; 
My wishes iHfe—roy doubts incline^ 

To yondeFTfealiis of rest. 

Come, and my jarring passions still : 

Come, and this sinner bind : 
This man within — this slave of will^ 

To earth and death resigned. 

Oh conae ! and from myself restore 

My soul, o*erwfaelm*d in woe, 
That pants on seraph's wings to soar. 

Free from the world below. 

Like as in earth the embryo flower 

Is held with icy chain, 
•Till summer's cun resumes his power. 

Then shoots to heaven agAin, Q^ 




Oh, say (vhence thy incessant cricj^ 
Say whence thy flowing tears ? w 

Has sqrxow dimm'd thine infant ey«, 
In yet unnumbered years I 

n vain to sooth thy sobbing bjflit 

Elach luUaby I've sung; 
Patient, the downy pillow prest, 

And o'er thy cradle hung. 

Then sav, in future years if yet, * 
Will duteous lore repay m 

To me the vast uncancelled debt. 
Of love from 6%y to day ? 

Digitized by 




Serious Thoughts on the use of Spirituous 

No. IV. ^ 

Many, who plead not for the epcces- 
sive use of ardent fpirits, confider the 
moderate use of them on common occa- 
fions, as proper. In reply to this, it 
(hould be confidered, id the firft place, 
that men are the creatures ^ in a great 
meafure, cfhahit. Habit is " a ftrong 
man armed,'' whom no human force 
whatever can difarm and overcome, but 
religion^ or a divine power only. This 
is not always at our command, and we 
have, therefore, every thing to fear 
from the prevalence of malignant habits. 
But the habit of loving ftrong drink, 
grows from frequent use ; and the mode- 
rate ufe by frequency alone may grow, 
and often does grow, to a confirmed and 
infuperable habit of intemperance. — 
Hence fo many of the labouring and 
mechanic clafles fall victims to this grim 
and unrelenting idol. The moderate 
nfe may therefore be confidered as the 
introduction to habitual intoxication ; and 
every unnecessary dram a man takes in 
what he calls the moderate ufe is a step 
that peradventure may lead him, in the 
end, to the difmal regions of confirmed 
intemperance.* No man, who briags 
not religion in to his aid, in which cafe 
he is entirely dependant, is fccure a- 
gainft the ri vetted chains of habit. 

In the next place, the moderate ufe, 
in thofe who keep to that ufe, has an 
injurious effect on fuch as ^[fl efs not 
that degree of self command.^TIxample 
is very powerful ; and the weak feeing 
the indulgence of the strongs are induced 
to hunger after that which they fee 
others enjoy ; and thus thefe fall cafy 
victims to the ufe of an article unnccef- 
fary, it is conceived as a drink to any^ 
and therefore an abufe in all. Where 
now is thy charity^ who by thy ill judged 
freedom art the occafion of thy neigh- 
bour's ftumbling and fall ? The prac- 
tice of thofe therefore, who ar^as they 
fay, in the moderate ufe, ig in reality, 
an abusCj and by being the occafion of 
ftumbling toothers, is of pernicious ten- 
dency in fociety. 

It is often faid by fome of thofe who 
trade in this article, and thus maJce.mer- 
chandife of men's morals and happinefs, 
that "tj^by no tncans approve of excefs. 

The pWcticc \s hich some have inconsidenitely in- 
wilged themselves in, of drmking dratm in the morn- 
ing, on tne ac^re of their health, has by frequency of 
repetition laJd^the foundation in many of habitual in- 
temperance. Tlvis improper conduct, has been suit- 
ably reprehenued by Dr. ^usH, in 1>U excelUnt essay 
»r. the iub^c^cr before us. 

and fell only to thofe in the moderate 
ufe." Thefe, therefore, make their 
gains by felling not to thofe already ru- 
ined by vicious habit, but only to thofe 
who arc on their way to be ruined. . 

It were wifer, it ftiould feem, if the 
interefts of fociety were ftudied, to re- 
fhiin from being acceflary to the ruin of 
thofe who yet retain fome integrity, and 
more rational to make their lucre out of 
those only who are paft the danger of far- 
ther depravation. — As to the common 
juftification of fuch venders as fell to all 
promifcuoufly, and are thus open accef- 
fories of drunkennefs, that if they did 
not fell to fuch, others would ; it is but- 
'^ figleaf coverings too thin not to be feen 
through by the moft common obfervcr, 
and fcarcely deferving of aferious reply : 
And yet this is a juftification often made, 
when fuch are fpoken with on the fub- 
ject ; — as if another man's fins could be 
thy juftification, or as if one muft do evil 
becaufe there are found others who will 
do it. *' Be not thou partaker/* faid 
the apoftle, " of other men's fins." 

Thofe in the moderate ufe, are inftru- 
mental alfo, by their example to lay a 
heavy yoke upon the poor. The mode- 
rate ufe of ardent fpirits, even if the 
practice do not border clofcly on intoxi- 
cation, is attended uevcrthelefs by con^ 
siderable expense 5 and though this may 
be fupportable by the wealthy, it is often 
in fpared by the poor, who ftand in need 
of all their earnings for the comfortably 
providing for then- families. Maijy 
wives and children from this caufc fuflfef 
often for the plain neceflaries of life. — 
The unneceffary expcnfe which the gra- 
tification of this factitious want occafions 
in fociety amounts to a round sum^ nay, 
to a very great sum in the aggregate, the 
mifapplication of a large proportion of 
which is, in great meafure, chargeable 
on those who filling the more refpectable 
ranks of fociety, have, by their impro- 
per exzmplt given countenance to a courfe 
of conduct in the poorer clafifes, which 
is, in reality a grievous yoke ofoppreffion. 
Poverty, want, fuflfering, mendicity, and 
focial deterioration are the unhappy con- 

What therefore is wanted, is that fe- 
rious and thoughtful perfons, particu- 
larly that all who profess the Chriftian 
name, would abftain from encouraging 
the ufe of ardent fpirits as a cuftomary 
and common drink, either by the con- 
fumption of it thcmfelves, or by the fa- 
bricating and vending it for consumption 
as fuch by others, whether they be in the 
moderate or the immoderate ufe of it a& 

fuch. Let all who name the facrcd name 
of Chrift, depart from even tffe appear- 
ance of evil ; but this is indeed an evil. 
The common ufe of ardent fpirits has 
largely ovcrfprcad the civilized and unci- 
vilized world as a leprosy znd plague ; and 
threatens through the dejufibns of an un- 
wearied adverfary to fpread yet wider and 
more univerfally. But " when the ene- 
my (hall come in as a flood, the fpirit of 
the Lord ftiall lift up a ftandard againft 
him," and even the unclean spirit of drunH- 
enness ihall be fubject to the divine power, 
and be caft out by fasting and prayer.^ 
Let there be, therefore, no discourage- 
ment ; but let each awakened individual 
** make war in righteousness** against 
this common enemy of the species, and 
both by precept and example, do what 
is required of him, to banish his appear- 
ance from among men. 

It was once declared by a voice heard 
as of thunder from heaven, saying "This 
is my beloved Son, hear him." This 
voice from the most excellent glory is 
addressed to us at this day: we of 
this age, are commanded to hear the 
Son, by the same divine power; and 
the Son saith " Thou shalt love the 
Lord thy God supremely, and thy neigh- 
bour as thyself." The Son commands 
us to reverence arid obey our Creator, in 
the first place, and to practise charity 
towards our neighbour, and self denial 
and self mortification, on our own part. 
But all these primary duties are at vari- 
ance with the upholding, or in anywise 
countenancing the common use of ar- 
dent spirits as a drink. For this use 
has a direct tendency to dishonour God 
as our merciful Creator, and to injure 
our neighbour in his best interests by 
the contamination of evil example. If 
we consider God as creating us for en- 
joyment, and not for misery^ we must be 
sensible, that to encourage the abuse 
of spirituous liquors by our practice or 
example, is in effect to counteract our 
Creator's benevolent and merciful in- 
tentions towards us, in giving us our 
existence, and therefore to act in a 
manner highly to displease and offend 
him. ITieretbrc the word of the Son 
to us, (that is of God himself) in this 
respect is " touch not, taste not, ban- 
die not." Let us not be in this respect 

• The refomnition which has taken place of latQ 
times among some settlements cf native Indians on 
the Alleghany river is remflirkable. They have broken 
through the most inveterate custom ^ and declined ge- 
nerally the use of spirituous liquors, from a convic- 
tion of the hurt they sustained from them, so that any 
individual continuing to drink ihem, is marked by iho 
geneial disapprobation and contempt of the commtL- 
nity. An example this, from which many i5 tte 
white people might deriye irstriKtion. 

Digitized by 




as the devils who believe and trennfble, 
but let us believe and obey,* and we 
$hall then not have cause cf tremblitigj 
but ofrejaidng " in the salvation of the 

• There is reason to apprcbcwJ, that tjigsc whose 
understandings have been illona^nated on this very im- 
portant subject to the intorests of human sotiety, but 
who ate unwilling to aid ni the wished for ceforma- 
tton by their conduct aijd example, wiH be suffered to 
sustain loss in this very particular, by eitlier becom- 
ing ensnared them$eWes by this stratagem of the 
advcrsar>% or by having Some of their famUy ensnar- 
ed and ruined. 



In many parts of our country, the art of 
making good butter in the winter is very 
imperfectly understood. Indeed many good 
dairy women, suppose it absolutely imprac- 
ticable to make it at that season. Now, in 
sorne places y at least in New-^England, it is 
ct)nstanriy prtictised, and /the progress is as 
fiiRiiliar, as that of making butter in May or 
October. — The short history of it is this : 

The cows should be stabled, and fed oti 
good sweet hay, arid if other provender is ad- 
ded, so much the better. Instead of keeping 
the milk in a warm place, it should be put in a 
cold one, and^io matter how soon itffreezes. 
Freezing will separate the cream much more 
jierfcctly tlian it Will rise widiout, and it is 
taken off with much less trouble. When the 
cream is cbttrned, the chcun should not be 
jmt too near the fire. The ordmary warmth 
of the kitchen will be suflkient. Too mnch 
heat will destroy botii the camphximt and 
/labour of the butter. It will require a littk 
moire time in churning, than it does in warm- 
er weather ; and that is all tlie real difEculty 
in malcing as good butter in January, as can 
he made at any season of ^he year. 

Butter cured with one ^wilf ounce of com- 
mon salt, one fourtii otmce of sidt petre, and 
one fourth ounce of moist sugar, poimded to- 
gether and used in the proportion of one ounce 
to the pound of butter, will, on trial, be found 
to I eep any length of time, and have a much 
finer flavour than when saSted in tlie tisual 
manner. — Con, Mir* 

'1 he foUowtng lines of the celebrated Campbell, hove 
never appeared inpnnt. 

th£ tear. 


1 telk*d of the woes of the d^ys that i 

Of afflictions aj^d trials serere; 
How the May -morn of Ufe was with stototB cvercltst, , 
And the bJossoms of hoj* wrre aH nipt by the Mast, 

And Beauty sat listening to hear. 

Of hardships and dangers, and many a wrong* 

And of toils that beset nRe so near. 
Of tieachcry's snare, and ingratitude's tongue 
1 told— and *twas pleasant the tale to prolong, 

For*Beauiy repaid with a tear. 

Ah! soft form of Beauty that gladdens the soulf 

Is aught as thy sympathy dear? — 
When thy bright beaming cjes with benignity jroU, 
When heaves tby full bosom at pity's control* 

A3vl *^y roses are waish'd with a teat?-^ 

Whentttrk roll the donds that o^ershabow our doom. 

When toils* and when dangers appear- 
When the storm-threai'ning wavts all their terrors 

Then the sun4ieam of hope that can break through the 
O Beauty! must shine tkrmigh a tear. 

Yes Beauty !— thy tear that from syn^pathy Bows 

To manhood shall ever be dears 
'Tis the balm of all ill, aDd the cure of all Ktot^i 
And the heart-rankling wounds of remembrance shall 

That 3eauty has wash'd with a tear. 


Kothing of Conse(}uence has transpired since ^our 

The queen of Holland h said to have gone to Paris, 
the unfortunate Josephine to NeufchateT— Louis Bo- 
naparte to visit the Emperor of Austria— The Arch- 
duke Charles was to resume his command as gene- 
ralissimo of the Austrian army on the idt of Novem- 
berv An extraordinary decree has been issued by Bo- 
naparte relative tto servants — ihAy are to be registered, 
ana receive a card c^ anacriptioti, s^tiitg whom they 
serve ; no person is to be permitted to hire aity do- 
mestic who is not thus provided. ■ 

The bonoutablt order of the Bath has 'been conferred 
by his iBritannic Majesty on Maj. Oen. fieresCord.— • 
The Princess Amelia is said still to linger without 
hope of recovery. It is said that 'Russia is in favour 
of encouraging and extending its conunercial illations 
with the uT States. 

Late accoimts from "St. Augustine ptesent a scene df 
disaster and distress. Acoonnts were received thene 
of thirty-four vessels being wrecked from the 25th to 
d9th October-r^ourteen on ihe -Kbys and twenty on 
the coast of Florida, princ^MtUy Americans. The ciewe 
were coming in daily in the most deplorable situation, 
n^ked and destitute of every means-^itianilted and 
mutt)atad£rom their wandenngs on the coast. 

' Domestic— The Post Master General on*{he 5th 
inst. authorised the contractors to carry a letter-mail 
on horse back. We hope this JAidicious measure may 
continue for the winter season. 

1% is with regret we notice nhat two lads, appren- 
tioes to Mathew Carey, Bookseller, Philadelphia, were 
lately drowned in a pond, by incautiously venturing 
upon the ice. We hope the youth generally will -tal^ 
yarning by this circumstance. 

A letter from a botanist who is pursuing his re- 
sieardhes in the Territory or^OrlfcaJis, says, H!hat he has 
discovered above fifty species oftton-dmcrifie*^ compie- 
hending some new genera, although his researches 
have been diiefly confined to ^he vicinity orSt. Louis. 

'Cbar. Cbut. 

The New-York Corporation have at leng^ con- 
doded a contract for the permanent employment of 
Mr. 'Pultoa*s steam-boats at the Powles Hook Ferry. 
Tis said that provision is made for allow mg market 
wagons to pass at a low toil; and th;it the boats will 
start every half hour -hj the clock, so as to im^re 
entire regularity in the pa«sage. , Tis also stated that 
the boats mtended are of such a size and Construction, 
that passengers may reimnn in their i^rHages, and 
drive in and out with perfect arffety and convenience ; 
and ifhat each boat wiU retelve eight or ten waggons 
or carriages at a trip. 

We learn that the S})^nish Minister has despatched 
a cutter to Cadiz, to communicate to the "Regency and 
Gortes govainiag Spain, informatscm df the ttieasure 
the Exectllive of the United States has taken with re. 
gard to a pv^ of West Florida. 

Kima tocK x*ocvLATiON."*-We hiar frc^ IJew 
porL R. I. that instead of 1900, it afipeare by the re. 
cord of the town council, that more thaii 2^00 per- 
sons, of all ages, have been inoculated by Drs. Wa- 
terhouse and Fancher. That place has always been 
exposed to small pox, by the constant intercourse be- 
tween Kew-York and Newport, so that the inhabitants 
have had unoo0Hnon dread of that distennper. This 
general vaccination is an invaluable blessing to Rhode 
Ifdand^ It is bat an act of justke to rema(nc, that all 
Dr. W. has done in thib benevo!ej^t.^bu&ines9 has been 
entirely gratuitous. f ' 

KBw-Y6a« State >aMo».^The writer of ts 
article has been favoured widi the perusal of doc^ 
mcnts, from which it appears, that the State PrW; 
conuins 498 pnsonew :-That since the establis W 
of that institution 599 prisoners have been paiS 
of which only 53 have been cenvicud of second of' 
fences, and that the punifehmertt has had the €ffect of 
tieftm^ng or Jntimidkthig 9 oat of ten of tiiose rjto! 
doned. This result is very favourable to the system^ 
for if only 1 out df 10 repeats an offence, the propor 
tion is certainly much less than it woirid be if While 
and dominions punishments were inflicted. It U 
said that materials are collecting for a list of all the 
convictions whkih tttwte taken place since the tfstab. 
Ushment of the prison, and that ^so far as can be aa- 
eertained at present, it will probably exhibit the pleal 
sing fact, that the convictions have not hi^rea^ii 

S report ioa to -the increase of^pQptt]ation, -luxury, «nd 
issipation. This fact is the more interesting, inai- 
much as the <tertainty of conviciion is greater when 
the.pUnishmelit is mild, than when it issanguiaary 

Mb. }?£.. 
Congress \kmH appointed cotHimitteeslfur the ton 
sideration of extending the Char-ter of the U. Slates. 
Bank, and instituting an enquiry respecting the con- 
duct of B. Gen. WilBnson. 

MARRIED— On the 16th inst. by the Rev. Dr. 
Wharton, Mr. JHotet LarzalerCf to Miss Maryhmwy, 
all of thb clty.^— The l9th inst. &t Friends* tSfceting, 
Muncy, Penn. Safnucl W. Moms^ Esq. of WfUsbo- 
rough, Tioga county, to Jnn Ellis, daughter of Wm. 
£llii, deceased. 

^ DIED->-At JUitlaad, Vtrmant, ^m the 3d 4»st 6ie 
Hon. Itrael SmUb, late Governor of that state, in the 
52d year of liis age. 


ibdlhie aufhbr'df un ^smon^ftnotM »ofe, gn>«»litts 
about our extra half aht«t, solicited infomutisB 
relative to the motives which could warrant the Editor 
to sforto ^»jr good opinion of hftn « w« should fwdy 
lay before him those explanations which have fuHy 
satisfied all our rekl fHends ; but as this weas^ could 
not f orbeat snapping in the Oark at otir little nui^lin^, 
we here bestow on him all the notice he merits, and 
will thank him to resign his subscription, as we haye 
numerous apphcants, of a class wham' the Edhor con- 
siders it an ji|our, as well as a pleasui^ to ^nd^vout 
to instruct l^r amuse. 


and J Jieaikr have^come tbhlmd. 

i(Q* The following persons^ agents for 
the Rural Visiter^ are authorized to receive 
siiiscriptions and give receipts on behalf (^ 
tkeEdttor: James P. Parke^ Sooksener^}^0. 
75yChesnut St. Philadelphia; Eizra Sargeantj 
comer of Broadway and Wall Street^ Ne^- 
Tork; Idkhard M* €o<iper'^ Camd^; Dmii 
CU Wood^ Woodburif; Thomas Redman^ jun* 
Haddonjfield ; Samuel Colc^ or Gilbert ^^oge^ 
Mcorestown; Alexander Shir ass ^ JUjunt- 
Holly; l^aac Carlisley ^jf^ew-Mills ; C/tarles 
Lawrence^ Bordentown ; M. &f y. Simhionsy 
ChdHerfeld; Daniel Leigh^ Allentoxvn; Jokn 
Handky^ Cranberry; James Orojii^^ Trenton; 
S* Morford., Princeton ; Bernard Smithy iV. 
Brunswick ; Simeon Drake^ Amhoy ; Jamt^ 
Jackson^ Woodbridge; Richard Marshy Rah- 
way; James Chapman^ EHzcbeth-Ttncn; 
Matthias Day, Newark. Many of these per- 
som can aiso foi-ward communia^cns for 
the Rural Visiter Mfely and free ^expense. 

Published Weekly, by D^.4^Hnscrn^ 


Pric5 two Dollars sixty -two Cents for Volome fii*^ 
payable semi-annnaiW in advance^ 

Digitized by 



" Homo sum ; humani nihil a me alienum puto.^^^-^Man and his cares to me a mmiy are dear* 

VOL. I. 


No. 23. 


(< The bounteous God of nature made 
The sexes for each other's aid. 
Their mutual talents to employ 
To lessen ills, and heighten jo/. 

Ridiculing the characters of women, 
their dress, conversation and manners, is 
too common among the critics and writers 
of the present day. Such persons are gene- 
rally considered as extremely illbred, and 
they frequently are very illiberal in their re- 
marks, as most of the faults which we ob- 
serve in the fair sex though worthy of private 
cen'sure, never should be made the theme of 
public rebuke, and are always mitch exagge- 
rated. Persons who employ their yme and 
talents in labouring to injure the charactqjs 
of women, are generally supposed to jiave 
met with some disappointment, or perhaps 
been deceived by one undeserving character 
axm>ng them, and taken a disgust in conse- 
quence of it to the whole sex : the censure 
bestowed on these is just and deser\'ed, and 
no blame is too rigorous for those who con- 
demn the whole sex in order to revenge some 
private pique or disappointmeni. Ilierc are 
however some faults which cannot be too 
severely animadverted upon by those who do 
it wiA a view to induce a reformation, and 
1 trust I shall not excite the censure of my 
fair readers by speaking of one^ them. 1 
-have always been a great admirff of the sex, 
and duly appreciated their worth, and though 
age has considerably jd)ated the interest I 
once took in contemplating their virtues and 
their faults, yet as one of the objects of tlie 
Recorder is " instruction to the ignorant and 
a word of advice io those who err," I con- 
sider it my duty to point out those faults 
which are most glaring, and whiCh tend 
roost to disturb the harmony of society. 
That I shall meet with the censure of some, 
I have no doubt; but there is this consolation, 
that the condemnation will come from those 
alone who are conscious of having failed in 
this, and that the more virtuous part of the 
sex, which I hope are the most numerous, 
wiU applaud any attempt to reform those, 
who either through thoughtlessness or a bad 
heart have been guiltj'. 

The foible I allude to is that of coquetry ; 
no less despicable than it is dishonourable. 
There is nothing which so fully unfolds the 
character of a woman, as her intercourse with 
men. A distinct line ia drawn between the 
.two sexes, the one possessing a firmness and 
stabili^ of character which particularly Qual- 
ifies them for the part they are to periorm 
on this stage of life, fits them for encounter- 
ing all the perplexities and difficulties of 

private business, enables them to regiilate 
national concerns, and to appear in the differ- 
ent capacities of heroes, statesmen and ora- 
tors : the other moving in a more humble, 
though not less important station, is quahfied 
to shine in domestic duties, in social inter- 
course, and in the performance of the more 
refined virtues and duties of life. The one 
is absolutely necessary for the comfort and 
happiness of the other, and we can never 
sufficiently admire the allwise Providence, 
for so admirably qualifying each, for the 
duties we have to perform in our mortal 

How particular therefore should we be in 
our intercourse with each other, and how 
much is it to be deplored— how much to be 
regretted that some will so far forget the 
duties of tlieir station, as to act in a manner 
so unbecoming the delicacy and virtues of 
the female mind, as to be guilty of duplicity 
and deceit in their conduct towards men. 
Some it is true possess a levity of character 
which authorises them to behave with more 
than ordmary freedom and unrestiraint, with- 
out incurring censure or behaving dishon- 
ourably — ^such persons are to be pitied but 
not despised ; their true characters are easily 
scm, and eve^ one Is on his guard against 
suffering any ill consequences to arise from 
such flirtations, and tueak must that mind 
be, who will suffer any serious impression to 
be made by such a cnaracter, composed of 
weakness, folly and thoughtlessness. But 
it i»of those who have a better understand- 
ing and more attractions,but of a much more 
malicious heart that I now speak ; of those 
who possess attractions sufficient to gain the 
attentions of men, of insinuating manners 
and pleasing address to induce a continuance 
of those attentions ; and of a heart so devoid 
of all feeling, so blunted to all principles of 
honour, that when the poor victim is com- 
pletely entangled in those snares composed 
of affected sensibility and pretended esteem, 
that he is thrown off unpitied and despised* 
Not a sigh is bestowea upon him for the 
wretched condition he is now in, his happi- 
ness perhaps blasted forever, soured and dis- 
gusted wim society, condemning the whole 
sex as devoid of every generous principle- 
he retires from the world to spin out his 
miserable existence in solitude ; while the 
.lady, exulting in the power of her charms, 
and boasting of the victims that have been 
offered to them, casts her devouring eyes 
around to see whom next she shall destroy ; 
excusing her conduct to the world, by declar- 
ing that she never exceeded the privilege 
allowed to her sex of flirting with their ad- 
mirers, and under this flimsy veil hopes to 
hide that dishonour, which in the eyes of the 

virtuous part of mankind, destroys her cha- 
racter and reputation forever. But is con- 
duct of this kind of any permanent advantage 
to the person who is guilty? True it may af- 
ford a momentaiy gratification ; while ycath • 
and spirits are ^n their, prime, it ma>' be 
gratifying to the ruling passion of woman 
(the inordinate love of admiration), but when 
age has matured their imderstanding, and 
induced them to reflect upon the seriou^ dis- 
advantage it is to themselves, and the unhap- 
piness it bestows upon othera — will not re- 
morse prey upon their hearts, and sorrow 
and contrition be their portion I This idea 
recals to my mind the history of an old lady, 
a cotemporary of my own, who is now la- 
bouring under all the unhappiness and morti- 
fication attendant upon the coquetry of her 

Louisa was the only daughter of her fond 
parents. Enjoyi^jg all the comforts if not 
the luxuries of life, the only care and occu-. 
pation of her father was the improvement of 
his child, and leading her ever sanguine mind 
to proper pursuits ; but ere she arrived to 1^ 
twelfth year, her father who had long been 
labouring under a painful disorder died, leav- 
ing his wife and child and two maiden sis- 
ters, a competence whereon with frugality 
they mij^t subsist in a comfortable and gen- 
teel fnanner. 

At this period the mind of Louisa was un- 
commonly improved for a chiH of her years; 
and to a sweet disposition, engaging and 
afifectionate manners, were added a pretty 
face and a lively though sweet countenance, 
which made her a great favourite with all 
who knew her. Every virtue seemed to be 
in the bud, and almost ready to shine forth 
with lustre : but alas ! like the rose bud burst- 
ing from its rough enclosure, appears the 
]>n)mised queen of flowers, yet ere its beau- 
ties arf frilly expanded the spoiler comes — 
the inveterate bug lights upon its prey and 
gnaws to the very heart ; thus it opens to the 
world a withered, bloated flower. Some 
leaves it is true retain their pristine elegance 
and fragrance; but one' blot — one single 
stain contaminates the whole, and it is thrown 
^Yy neglected and despised. Thus it was 
with Louisa: possessing a better understand- 
ing than that of her nipther, regarded by her 
aunts as something superior to the re,st of 
her sex, every thin^ she said, every senti- 
inent or opinion she formed was looked upon 
as right, and at the age of fifteen she was 
not only the sole directress of her own con- 
duct, but such was the fa^l effects of too 
excessive fondness in the one, and admiration 
in the others, that their opinions matured by 
age and reflection, were given up when in 
opposition to those of Louisa. 

Digitized by 




Having now arrived to^ that age when it 
was natural to partake of the gaieties of life, 
she gradually entered into all the fashions 
and amusements of the city. The change 
was very flattering to the feelings of Louisa; 
accustomed to a retired life and to the society 
of a few vxilijable friends of her mother and 
aunts, from whom she gained instmctibn, 
but ver\- little of that amusement which was 
nattural'to her age, the attractions and plea- 
sures she now met with, were too much for 
her unformed manners and inexperieticc ; 
fascinated with the splendor and magnifi- 
cence of the company she saw, delighted 
with the compliment? and attentions of the 
yoi*ng men, ever forward tb flatter and spoil 
a A'ovke in the world, she soon became in- 
formed of the attractions she possessed, and 
indeed conceived a higher opinion of them 
than in reality they deserved. The conse- 
quence is readily to he perceived— affecta- 
tion took place of those natural and inno- 
cent naanners which was the greatest of 
.her beauties, forwardness in her attentions 
to. the young men were substituted for her 
former modesty and bashftifaiess ; and in 
short, she became one of the most finished 
flirts of the-age. 

Many were the suitors who offered them- 
selves candidates for the hand of Louisa ; 
but alas!, the love of admiration Had gained 
such an ascendency in heiwmind, that everjr 
soft and te6d€r emotion was* entirely el'adi- 
cated by it ; yet as their particular attehtions 
were ratifying to her vanity, she conducted 
hferseu in such a way, as to add fresh fuel to 
the flame that was already raging in their 
breasts, and giving every encouragement to 
their addresses, though wkh a determination 
of discarding them when carried to the last 
extremity. Thus has she been induced to 
relinquisn offers which would not only have 
been advantageous and honourjft»le to herself, 
but pleasing to her family : by frequent cir^ 
cumstances of this kind, her character be- 
came known—abhorrence, intermijced with 
pity, that so mUch excellence shot^d have 
been ruined by a single fault was the common 
opinion, and Louisa is passed unnoticed and 

Considerably advanced in years, she now 
looks upon her former conduct with sorrow 
and contrition ; good sense has pointed out 
the roci upon which she splits and she passes 
her scditary moments in vain regrets and 
lamentations, that she ever should have been 
guilty of conduct so dishonourable and un- 
wortny the delicacy of the female mind : but 
it is now too late for reparation; though 
qualified to shine in, the large circle of ac- 
quaintances she associates with, she is still 
regained with mistrusts and doubts— every 
profession of friendship or esteem, every 
sentiment^ every opinion she expresses, is 
now looked upon as dictated by selfish mo- 
tives ; and thus like the rose bud, though 
still possessing many virtues and beauties, 
yet ^^ one blot, one single staiu contaminates 
the whole, and it is thrown by neglected and 
despised." O. 

Fame is not always gjoiy. 



Drink to her who long 

Hath wak'd the poei'a sigh. 
The girl who gave to song 

What gold can never buy ! 
Oh ! woman's heart was made 

For mmstrels' hands aloner 
Bj other fingers pUyed 

It yields not half the tune. 
Then here*8 to her who long 

Hath waked the poet*s 8igh> 
The girl who gave to song 
. What gold could never buy. 

At beauty's door of glass 

When Wealth and^Wit once stood. 
And ask'd her " which might pass V* 

She answered " he who could." 
With golden key Wealth thought 

To pass-^but 'twould not do ; 
While wit a diamond brought. 

Which cut his bright way through* 
Then here's to her who long. 

Hath wak'd the poet's sigh,^ 
The girl who gave to song 

What gold could never buy. 

The love that seeks a home 

Where wealth or grandeur shines. 
Is like the gloomy gnome 

That dwells in dark gold mines : 
But oh ! a poefs love 

Can boast a brighter sphere ; 
Its native home's above, 

Though woman keeps it here. 
Then drink to her who long 

Hath wak'd the poet's sigb» 
The girl who gave to song 

What gold could never buy. 


CCenciudedJrompage 110, J 

The first change in the form of the false 
pun seems to have been to the Conundrunu 
This I suppose was the improvement of a 
pedant, not contented witn common ap- 
plausq. For dutness first makes ,a man pe- 
dantic and then teaches him .folly. The in^ 
vehtor has fully succeeded. For if the^e is 
any kind of wit, that sets an audience agape 
— it is this : W6 guess at every thing but 
the right thing; and when told it, cannot 
enough wonder at the brilliancy of the 
thou^t. In order to make one, a dictionary 
—4hat happy help for a dull head, is to be 
resorted to. A word is to be found that has 
two very different meanings, or that can be 
split into two parts. All the art then lies in 
joining^ these meanings or these parts toge- 
ther so adroidy by way* of simile, as entirely 
to hide the word they belong to. It is true, 
conundrums are often rather old and dry ; 
though I have heard it insinuated that they 
must therefore be well salted, or they would 
not keep. I believe it is not generally known, 
that attic salt, is Sal VolatUe, whereas that 
which dulness quacks under this name, is 
nothing but Saloedative. I own that now 
and then conundrums approach to die witty 
pun. For genius sometimes sends scoutii^g 
pardes, even into the regions of night. But 
they are always laboured and on this account 
lose half their pr^se. 

The next variety I shall notice, is the Re- 
bus and Charade, which seem to have been 
the next improvement on the original joke. 
For it has here acquired the broad griii of 

folly, without having lost its pedantry. It 
flourished about thirty or fifty years ago, in 
all the magazines and newspapers of the 
time ; but as it is nearly out of date, I shall 
not enlarge upon it. 

The Acrostic seems to be the pun in its 
last stage of purification. Having undergone 
the leaden distillation, we here see it«-4he 
very essence of dulness, freed iVom sSl the 
dross of wit and clods of fancy. I hope I 
shall not trespass on my reader's patience by 
presenting him with the following recipe for 
making one ; or if he likes the simile, with 
this diving bell to assist him in g^hering 
mud from the pools of bathos*— 

Let your friend's or your mistress' or 
your lapdog's name, be written down m 
capitals, after the manner of the Chinese, 
and with spacious intervals ; tlien take i^) an 
odd volume of Shenstone, or Moore; or 
Searson, or some other famous out of the 
way author, and find a line beginning with 
the letter the name does, and somewhat to 
the purpose, and clap it down. Then search 
Walker's rhjrming mctionary, or if you have 
not got it, your brain, for a word that will 
jingle with the last word of your first line. 
, Set this doWn opposite to the next letter of 
*e name, as the concluding word of your 
second line, and then fill up the inters al as 
you can. 

In this way by alternate reference to the 
book and the dictionary, many a fine acrostic 
may be, and I believe Im been written, to the 
great pleasure of the public and satisfaction 
of the author. 

I have not time now to enlarge upon seve- 
ral varieties of the pun, such as riddles, 
anagrams, catches, bulla, &c. down to the 
^ play upon words*^ that chHdren perform 
with paste-board letters. 

I forgot to observe in the right piace, how 
fashionable the second species of false puns 
has lately bgen. Even we, caught the infec- 
tion from a neighbouring city. Last winter 
they were served up to our parties, as regular- 
ly as tea and family news. And they hacf this 
advantage: that by suspending conversation, 
all were reduced to sm equality. I am glad 
however to observe, that they are on the 
decline ; and I hope we have sense and taste 
enough to vindicate the rights of conversa- 
tion and to resist the contagion of duhess» 
Yours sincerely, 

Burlington, Dec 1810. 

To the Editor of the Rural Visiter. 

Towards the close of December, in the 
year of '97, Emily A— n, a young and 
beautiful stranger, begged a night's l^ging 
at the house of James S d, in the eastern 
extremities of the county of Burlington. 
She was chilly, and wet with the storm she 
had travelled in, and during the night sick- 
ened of a fever, of which, in a few days she 
died— Her story is still recent to the memo- 
ries of many of the inhabitants of New-Han- 
over. > 

From several letters and other * papers, 
found among her cldthes after death, it ap- 
pears she was thejK^ctim of an-mifortunate 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 



attachment, and the only child of a wealthy 
and. respectable citizen of the state gf 
Massachusetts. The consequence of her 
imprudence had exiled her from the house 
of her father, and when arrested by death, 
she was journeying for protection to a female 
relative, residing somewhere on the eastern 
shore of Maryland. 

Accident made me acquainted with her 
lustory. I found it simple, affecting and full 
of interest. It may probably some day awak- 
en the sympathy of your readers. 

I visited h^r grave a few weeks ago-— it is 
a wild and melancholy spot, in one of the 
most secluded graveyards, perhaps, in the 
world. And what probably gives it more 
interest, is the circumstance of its being pre- 
cisely the spot she had pointed out from her 
chamber wihdow, a few hours before she 

breadied her la&t 1 sat down by the root 

of a sycamore tree a few paces from her 
grave, and hastily penciled the following 
lines : 


«' Still shall thy grave with rising flowers be drest, 
And the green tnrf He lightly on thy breast ; 
There shall the mom her earliest teaii^ bestow, 
There the first roses of the ycai*ShaURow.'*— 

Amelia was lovely and fair, 

Array «d in the bloom of sixteen j 
Her bosom a stranger to care, 
And her days, as htr bdsom serene. 

To life, as she fondly believ'd, 
Was but to be tranquil and blest ; 

And the pleasures her fancy conceived 
Appear*d by Amelia possest. 

Cay and cheerful, each mom she arose, 
No sorrow had taught her to weep ; 

And as pure as the lily that blows. 
She sunk on her pillow to sleep. 

The sun, that brightens the sky 
From the orient gates to the west j 

I'han Emily, seldom pass'd by 
A maiden more lovely or blest. 

But life, like the stsn-beam that pliiys 
O'er the face of a beautiful day. 

In a moment, is hid, and decays. 
Or u swept by a tempest away. 

And scarce had the morning sun rose, 
And scarce were its roses in bloom, 

Ere shadows and night mark'd its dose. 
And its setting beams shone on the tomb. 

And here, where no human spunds play. 
No fnoming sun scatters its breath ; 

From home and from kindred away, 
Amelia reposes in death. 

No tear, hapless maid, was e*er shed. 

On the green grass that waves over thee, 
Save the soft deNvs of heaven that spread. 
O'er the face of all nature as free. 

Unsmooth<d was thy pillow of death. 
By a fond parentis tender adieu ; 

No sighs soften*d life's closing breath, 
No hands heaven's curtains withdrew. 

No bell toll'd thy spirit away ; 

No requiem was chanted for thee. 
But the storm of the wild wintry day. 

That rang through the frozen beech tree. 

But what though no marble appear. 

On the green of thy rustical tomb j 
The myrtles of spring shall grow there, 
' And the roses of summer shall bloom. 

And oft shall the daughters of woe. 
And the virgins of sympathy tread ; 

And the tears of the morning shs^ flow, 
Jknd the dews of the tv^ilight be shed! 

And here shall the spirits of air, 
In their mystical dresses arrayHi s 

And the fays of the evening repair. 
To the spot where Amelia is hud. 

To thee, sweetest incense they'll bring. 
The dews and the warm beams of May » 

And scatter the fragrance of spring, 
And bid softest zephyrs to play. 

And oft shall the wild harp be strung. 
To the sweet strain of sympathy tree; 

And dirges and hymns shall be sung. 
And requiems be chanted for thee. 

Rest in peace ; and on the great day. 
That imposes on nature her doom, 

Heaven's angels their footsteps shall stay. 
On the green turf of Emily's tomb. 

H. W. 


Translated from the Spanish ofTriarte*