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THE RURAL VISITER: 



A LiTEa.iJiy 



AJffl 



MISCELLANEOUS GAZETTE. 



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



J 
VOLUME I. 



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

PUBLKHED BY D, AtLINSON AND CO. AND PRINTED IT THE LEXICON PSESS^ 



1811- ^ 



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Digitized by 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



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



VOL. 1. 



BUH.MNC.TON, SEVKNTH MON TH f'Jl^LY^i sniK iBlu. 



N,.. ». 



i'CJ^ Po<i\vAt' rs and otbc-rs tn whom ibis 
N Limber ot'Th.: Kur.il 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, ..-.sc--. 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«..il '^'■•' 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«:nir.it:on 
tn cour.tr'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 
o-Jtv. 



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 troiiolv.fj 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 a.ae^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 ■" ' ti.ne 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- 



,ri' 



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- 



ho' 



a 

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 :- d.ci' 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 princif.lt 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-^s.st 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 cuh.ar 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 :r.tl \ .. 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 :.ru-a' of :* 'aiar- 

tiek <-\tj t.va,;^-: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 rei.ro:', 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 



Google 



RURAL VISITER. 



^O 



..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*- 'jur.ro:>_, 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 



i 

c'lj Mm- s, tcai]", 

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



J. 



ih-: 



ciF. < 3 1 c lis o i v.- » I .1 r 



V tr) a^ rt urifl zirji.itaiu 

r-,>i::ion aril coTibcitr.cr, 

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 
Iraw^actix'iiv. 

'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. persevcrar.re, 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 ;; 



ro»»'"*rl 

ild 



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,'a.pt'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. 



n> 



a-»i; tarvt ■ fc»r thi c 



aii\ 'VwC'U 



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



na? 



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 < 
"dv.ir 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 tina.tt ^, .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 



oa' 



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/e.sr 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;;eia.er'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. 

ANUKCIIARDLST. 

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. 

ON TIiK PRO!*::U .S-IL rOR OflOUAnDS, 

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 



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



PI t'Xtf rncil jp;)£. nr.mc*^s, or t'^^.t iiijj.oi ^ «;f 
irl'. equal cxn.li."»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 



i> 



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



,} 



^v 



.'i 



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 l.ir'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, th.tt 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 b.ing 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 '.er.st 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 



bk- 



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 r..am in diL'ta.'t 

Ij-.i 



lauds, in q i"s-. of ^ l.at 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'..om:,, 
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 rej.ai-t 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 



THE USE 01 THE ALPHAnrT, 

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.** 



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THE RURAL VtSlTKH. 



TO MT M0TH2K. 

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 ui-.us 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't.in. 

l-rrn ih«.' luar:i». with r-^ r.t d*v h.ci 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 si.au 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^. r.ec<>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 

GKAZiNG Fa.vM, 



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

TOOK 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 wi.hm Montalvia liv'd, 
AJcesies fam'd, \v\v bowed with weight rf ye.>r3- 



IN 1 lllig.lm:e. 

FOREIGN. 

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 oti.er, *'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. 

SOMBSTICK. 

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'T.tv 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 ro.id b ad'".^; 
from thefej»y directly thr Uf-b thr •/ tit. to the t.^.v; 
of Dr*i.li!'.> C»et:.5. dii>ia:i. '1.1-4 unles at v. ' m. .• 
place there is a poa^-otl.cc 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. 
laim-d 

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 
DAVID C. WOOD. 

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 



Google 



>^ 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



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



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, EIGHTH MONTH (AUGUST) 6th, 1810. 



No. 2. 



THE RECORDER. 
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 
substance. 

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 
picture. 

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. 

FOR THE nURAI. VISITER, 

ORCHARDIST. 
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^ 

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THE RURAL VISITER. 



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. 

STOCKS. 

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. «. 

ON THE PROPAGATION OF NEW VARIETIES. 

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

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. 

OH THE PROPERTIES OP CIDBB APPLES. 

• 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 
other. 

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 
England.) 

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 
cider. 

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 
world. 

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 
bodies. 

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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THE RURAL VISITER. 



{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, 

T. CASPIPINA. 

Philadelphia. 
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 
comfort. 



FROM THE AMERICAN DAILY ADVERTISER. 

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. 



»0R THB RURAL VISITER, 



on ik^ 

;id5 



tioy€», 



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. 

Z. 



VALERIAN. 

[cONXnrUED FROM FAGS 4.] 

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 
cheek 
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. 



ADVERTISEMENTS. 

BURR WOOLMAN, 

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 

DRT GOODS, 

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 

SHERIFFS SALE. 

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. 

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

FOR^ALE, 

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. 

wtf 



INTELLIGENCE. 

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 
armies. 

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 
ports. 

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- 
sand. 

Votes have passed the British house ot commons, 

1. To make retrenchments in the financial depart- 
ment. 

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 
England. 

DOMESTTCK. 

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^ 
Frenchmen. 



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. 

«BSaE9SS3:SSa9BSSaBHnEaaB>BBaBHBBaBBBB^Ba6l 

Published Weekltf^ by D. Allinaon^ 

CITY OF tlHlbtVGTON, K. J. 

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



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



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



\OL. I. 



BURLINGTON, EIGHTH MONTH (AUGUST) I3th, 1810, 



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 
readers. 

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. 

A SUBSCRIBER. 

THE RECORDER, 

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 

dwell 
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 

reveal. 
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 

shew, 



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 

beads, 
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 

bliss 
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 

strife. 
That the celestial fire, which warms our soul. 
Shall not extinguished be at death's control. 
Kind nature's works, with one accord, pro- 
claim, 
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. 

K. 



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 



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THE RUftAl VISITER. 



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 more.to 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. 



T. CASPIPINA. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



11 



OBCHARDIST. 
No. HI. 

SITUATION. 

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. 

BtST4N0K. 

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. 

SBASOK. 

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. 

CLSAVlfrG. 

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 

through. 

SAT, 

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 

A TALE. 

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 
head. 

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 
pleases. 

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. 

THE DEATH OF THE HIGHTEGUS. 
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.'' 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



rOR TRS SVKAZ. VBtXTES. 



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! 



VALERIAN. 

[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.) 



INTELLIGENCE. 

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. 

SHERIFF'S SALE. 

' 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. 



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



GRAZING FARM. 
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.it 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- 
tained. 

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 
same. 

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. 
DAVID C. WOOD. 

Woodbury, J one 30, 1810. 



BURR WOOLMAN, 

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 

DRT GOODS, 

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 

CITY or BURLINOTOV, V. J. 

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. 



BURLINGTON, EIGHTH MONTH (AUGUST; 20th, 1810, 



No. 4. 



THE RECORDER* 
No. IV. 

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



Hot. 



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- 
nerally 

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, 

FaaNCii. 

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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14 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



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. 

LOCAK aO€K— AW SXTRAOBDIKAEY PHSNOMENON 

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 

A TALE. 

[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- 
passion. 

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 
inflict. 

{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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16 



FROM THE AMERICAN DAILY ADVERTISER. 

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. 

THE NETTLE AND THE ROSE. 

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. 

ANECDOTE. 

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." 



F0& TUB BOBAL VI8ITEB. 

A SUMMER EVENING. 

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 
clear. 
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 
breath 
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 



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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. 

Z. 



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." 



VALERIAN. 

(COHTINI/BD FROM PAGE 12 ) 

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^ 



OBITUARY. 



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* 



INTELLIGENCE. 

rOftBXCK. 

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. 

DOMSSTXCK. 

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. 



MARRIED, 
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." 



SHERIFF'S SALE. 

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. 

BOORS AND STATIONARY. 

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

BURR WOOLMAN, 
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 

DRY GOODS, 

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 



FOR SALE, 

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. 



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



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, EIGHTH MONTH (AUGUST) 27th, 1810. 



No, 5. 



FOa TUK RVAAL VXtXTBS. 

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 

service. 

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 
source* 

I am» your very sincere Friend and Servant, 

T. CASPIPINA- 
Queen-Streeti Sep. 2| 1772. 



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tas= 



The txvin Brothers of Mezzoranicu 

A TALE. 
[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- 



cree. 



IROM THE TRENTON PEDERAI^IST. 

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* 

PAY WHAT THOU OWEST. 

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?* 

A MAGNIFICENT ROAD. 

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 
preservation. 

ANECDOTES. 

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. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



19 



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. 

PAOM TBB OKIO POLITICAL OB8BAVATORY. 

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 
age." 

ILXTRAOHBINART PAUnOT. 

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. 



VALERIAN. 

CCONTXNUED FROM PACE 16.) 

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. 



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THE RURAL VISITER, 



INSTRUCTION TO A PORTER. 

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. 

BY W. SCOTT. , 

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. 



INTELLIGENCE. 

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. 



OBITUART, 



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, 



PRICES CURRENT AT TRBNTOIT. 

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. 



SHERIFF'S SALE. 

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. * 



SHERIFFS SALE. 

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. 



FOR SALE, 

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* 

wtf 



GRAZING FARM. 
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- 
tained. 

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 
same 

•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. 

BURR WOOLMAN. 
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 

DRT GOODS, 

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^ 

I CITY OP BVBLINGTON, IT. J. 

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



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



VOL. 1. 



BURLING rOx\, NINTH MONTH (SEPTEMBER) 3cl, 1810. 



No. 6. 



THE RECORDER. 
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." 



ORCHARDIST. 
No. IV. 

PRUNING. 

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 
it. 

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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THE RURAL VISITER. 



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. 



LETTERS 7EOM LONDON. 

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 
it!" 

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 
Oxford. 

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 
place. 

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 

LECTURER. 

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 



were 
poor 



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 
true. 

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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■26 

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 
strangers. 

. 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. 

A CRITICAL MASQUERADE. 

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

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



THE RURAL VISITER. 



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 
been. 

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.) 

LEC^RER. 

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* 

' AGRICULTURE. 

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 
diraate.. 

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. 



TO FARMERS. 

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 drawers.in 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 
pare. 

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. 



EOR THE RURAL VISITER. 



8 mo. 1810. 



Trenton pap. 



LITERATURE. 

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. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



VALERIAN. 

' (CONTIFUED FROM PACE 19.) 

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 



70K THB BUKAL VXSXTEB. 

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 



THE WOUNDED LARK. 

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. 



ON MUSICK. 

BY THOMAS MOORE. 

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 
alir 



INTELLIGENCE. 



rOBEIOK. 



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 
tioridas. 

DOMESTICS. 

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 
heretofore. 

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. 

FOR SALE, 

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. 
wt£ 

Published Weekly ^ by D. Allinson^ 

«1TT or BVELlNOTOir, ». J, 

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



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THE RURAL VISITER. 

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



VOL. L 



BURLINGTON^ NINTH MONTH (SEPTEMBER) Uth, 1811. 



No. 8. 



THE RECORDER. 
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- 
forced. 

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 
her. 

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 
duty. 

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^ 
Novels. 



mi 



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 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



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- 
ography. 

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. 

A CRITICAL MASQUERADE. 

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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THE RURAL VISITER. 



31 



BfiS 



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. 

FOR THB RURAL VISITBR. 

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 
moref 

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 
discouraging! 

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 
bliss. 

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. 

OVERWHELMING ARGUMENT. 

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 
present. 

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 
Britain. 



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. 



BEAUTY. 

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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VALERIAN. 

(CONTZ17UBD FROM FAOE 28«) 

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 

THE AGED PRISONER. 

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 
mine. 

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. 

AI^VOR. 



THE LILY RIVALLED. 

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. 



THE TEAR. 

BY DR. DARWIN. 

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 
still! 



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 
Didkr, 

"Pay the Post-Boy, Muggins.'» 



INTELLIGENCE. 



DOMBSTICK. 



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. 

FOaEICV. 

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! 



BURR WOOLMAN, 



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 

DRT GOODS, 

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 



FOR SALE, 

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. 

wt£ 



Just published^ 
AND FOR SALE AT THIS OFFICE, 

FRAGMENTS, 

IN PROSE AND VERSE, 
BY MISS ELIZABETH SMTTB. 



Published Weeify, by D. AUinson, 

CITT OF BITRLlirOTOK, N. J. 

Price two floUart a year-^ne half payable in winntt^ 
the otto in fix moichs. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



" Homciaum^hufiiaT^ mhil ame aHmvm p*Uo.^ — Mm and his cores to me, a nuau are deaf. 



VOL. I. 



T^ 



SVRLINGTONrwiNtH' MONTH (SEPTEMBER) ^th> 18l0» 



No. 9. 



MISCELLANY. 



THE RECORDER. 
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 began.to 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. 

A. 



POa THS aURAL VISITEB. 

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- 

ERASMUS. 

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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04 



tHE RURAL VISITER. 



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. 

CLOVIS. 

FOn THE RURAL VISXTkR. 

'* Oh ! bright occasions of dispensing good* 
How seldom us*dr how little understood.*' 

COWPBR. 

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. 



giveujb 



" 1\at some kind power the gift would gi 
To jee ourselves as others see us.*' 

Convnced 

" 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 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



55 



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. 

A.B. 



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. 

POSTULATES. 

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 
flavourable. 

6. That this particularly applies to a paper 
whose ** means is pleasure, and whose end is 
virtue*" 

AXIOMS. 

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 
straw. 

9. Still water runs deep. 

PROBLEM. 

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 
author!! 

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- 
strandum. 

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.. 

ANECDOTE* 

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 



"S^ 



THE ItUAAL VISITEK. 



■OURSORY THOUGHTS ON MATRIMONY, 

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. 



^ErtBSS 



POEtRT. 

rOB THE RURAL VISITER. 

J^iathn of Uor^x, Lib, I. Ode 9^ 
•* Integer vUic sceterisque purus." 

ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR OF THE 
fi^COlLDER. 

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. 



T 



XL. 



rOR THB RURAL VISITER. 

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- 

thinks, 
•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 

tree, 
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 

once 
Hermit retirement — aldermanic Wiss ! 
And Stoick independence of mankind 

A CALKD07VXAK. 



n^ IMPORT AJ^T. 

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 
swallow^ 

" At easy mouthful, it is said, 

•• A gre«u unwh^ldy, huge post-spade," 



NEWS. 

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. * 





Friers current at Burlingtotu 






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Rye, - . 


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Oats, . 

Flaxseed, 


£ 


37 1-; 

1 00 


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Flax 


C55 


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Published Weekly^ by D. AUinson^ 

CITY or BURI.lN<3TON, N. J. 

Price tw^o Dollars a year — one half pay able in advai^cc 
r^:«:+:^«>he Other in su months.. 

Digitizec ^_y — ^ ^r> 



T^E RURAL VISITER. 



»• Homo sum ; humani mhil a me aliemm puto.^—Mcm and his cares to me a man^ are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, TENTH MONTH (OCTOBER) 1st, 1810. 



No. 10. 



MISCELLANY. 



' THE RECORDER. 
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 
relates, 

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, 
that, 

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 



Google 



5^ 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



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 

then 

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. 

LECTURER. 

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 
arisen. 

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 



FOH THE BURAL VISITER. 

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 



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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. 



FOR TBS RURAL VISITER. 

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. 

Juvenile. 

ORCHARDIST. 

^ No. V. 
CIDER. 

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 
constitutions. 

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 
possess. 

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. 



TO SYMPATHY. 

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. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



Q^ The first annual meeting oftheNexV' 
ytrsey Bible Si)czetifs « advertised to beheld 
at Princeton to-morrowm 



PaETRT. 



FOft THE RURAt VZSZTEl'. 

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 

thought. 
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 justified.it 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. 

I- 

FOR THE RURAL VISITEI. 

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." 



NEWS. 

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 

rertTthTL^^Sr&vl^ifii 

• ^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, 

. ^ «TY OF BURLINGTON, N. r 

Price IwoPoUars ayeatwone half payable in advance, 
the other m six months. 



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



V"Oi^. !• 



BURLINGTON, TENTH MONTH (OCTOBER) 8th, 1810. 



No. 11. 



MISCELLANY. 

THE RECORDER. 

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 
mountains^ 



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. 



LECTURER. 
No. III. 

[coktinuedJ 

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 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



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 

GRCHARDIST. 



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. 



LECTURER, 
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 



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4o 



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. 

TOR THE*BUKAl VISITER. 

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^ 

EXTRACTOR. 

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." 

POETRT. 



FOa THE SURAL VISITE*. 

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 



place, 

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THE RURAL VISITER. 



FOR THB RUHAL VISXTER 



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. 
AN ALLEGOHT. 

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. 



SELECTED. 

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. 

FOR TMR RURAL VISITKR. 
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. 

NEWS. 

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 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



" Homo sum ,■ humani nihil a me alienum puto^—Man and hia caret tome a man, are dear. 



VOI„ r. 



BURLINGTON, TENTH MONTH (OCTOBER) i3th, 1810. 



is.. - 1. 



MISCELLANY. 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XL 

Some liave fo? wits, then poets pa»t, 

Tum'd critics next, and prov'd plain fook at last. 

POPB. 

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. 

PoPB. 

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. 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER 

" O Vanit}% thou constant seducer ! How 
do all thy efforts to elevate, tend only to sink 



us 



t>' 



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 
man, 

'*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 like.an 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** 

MONIT£R» 

THE STRAWBERRY 

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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THE RURAL VISITER. 



FOtt THE RURAL VlSITEa. 

Est proprium sitiititia aliorum vitia ccrnere, oblivisci 
tuorunu 

TULLY. 
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. 



FOR THE RURAL VISITB*. 

MEMOIRS OF SOCRATES. 

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. 

ORCHARDIST. 
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. 

LECTURER. 

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- 
Med. 

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 LAY PREACHER. 



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 
appearance. 

POOR PILGjlIMi 
No. I. 

AWAKENED. 

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- 

tuous; 
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 



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No. 12. CONTINUED. 

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 
wreath. 



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 

A SUBSCRIBER. 

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 
dog. 

" 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 
fowler. 

«« 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 

meet. 
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 
Adieu, 

And believe me ever Yours. P. P. 

'< ■ '■■ ■ i ri 

For the rviai. visiter. 

ADDRESSED TO R. N©. XI. 

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. 

OBSB&VEB. 
FKOlf THE SELECT BEVIEW8. 

" 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 ! 

THE PEACH. 

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* 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



FOa THE RURAL VISITER. 

THE EARLY ATTACHMENT. 

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 
interest. 

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 
movement. 

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. 

ERASMUS. 



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'. 



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51 



. ..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' ii.id never married, and was 
3io\v the sole surviver of a once' flourishing^; 
laTidly. 

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.fi 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. 



J^KTTIIRS rrOM LONDON". 

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 hr.vc 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 
sacred. 

Adieu* 



POETRT. 

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 



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•-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!*' 



BAOM THB V^VNEBBCK CAZETTltf. 

SONNET ro A FLV 

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. 



VOR THB KtTBAL TISZTBS-^ 

THE SNOW-DROP. 

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 
service. 

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 

poor, 
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 

prayV, 
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). 



NEWS* 



rOREIGK". 

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 
worsted. 

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 
trade* 



DOMESTIC. 

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 
fascinatron* 



TO CORRESPONDENTS, 

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^ 

CITY or BURLINGTON, N J. 

Price two Dollars i»ixry-two Cents for Volurte first) 
£>a} able semi-annually in advance. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



" Homo sum; humani nihil a me alientim putoJ" — Mdn and his cares to me a mqn^ are dear. 



m 



V )I. 



BUJaLINGTON, TENTH MONTH (OCTOBER) 22d, 1810. 



No. 13. 



MISCELLANY. 

THE RECORDER. 
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. 

LEONORA. 

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 
enjoyment- 

THE FORGETFUL MAN. 

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." 



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S4 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



Tb the Editor of the Rural J^isiteK 

Cooper*s Pointy Sept. 1810. 

RESPECTED FRIEND, 

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. 
JOSEPH COOPER. 

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- 
tion. 

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 



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THE RURAL VISITEtt. 






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 
William. 

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. 

PETRO PETROVITCH. 



FOR THE RUEAL VISITER. 

^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- 
tacle.*'^ 



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.^ . 



m- 



' HALE COQUETRY C0NTEMPTIBXE# 

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- 
ble. 

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 



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THE RURAL VISITER* 



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- 
count." 

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. 



POETRT. 



ORIGINAL. 



tPIGMAM, 



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^ 



FOn THE RUftAL VI8ITE»» 

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» 



8ELBCTED FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

TOBACCO SMOKING SPIRITUALIZRIX 
(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 



INTELLIGENCE. 

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. 

CAUTION. 
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. 

EXTRAORDINARY PRODUCTION. 

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 . " "" 

TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

' 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 
Townw 

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. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



*' Homo sum; humani nihil a me cJienum putoJ^'^Man and his cares to me a man^ are dear* 



VOL- I. 



BURLINGTON, TENTH MONTH (OCTOBER) 29ih, 1810, 



BaBEsant 
No. 14* 



MISCELLANY. 



MENTOR. 
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 
iorlt)ws." 

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- 
chief. 

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 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

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, 

A STRANGER. 

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! 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

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. 



THE LITERARY BREAKFAST. 

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 

£asdng, 
^ What a breakfast of learning is mine !'* 
*^ A breakfast of leamiag !" with wonder he 
cried. 
And laughM"— for he thought him mis* 
taken; 
*• Why what is it -dae?** the sageqmckly 
replied, 
** When I'ni making targ^e extracts Jh 

^«^^" -Digitized by Google 



^ 



$t 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



yOR THE RURAL. VISITER. 
Gcdsnt ftrma tog«« concedat laurea lingux. 

CiCBAO. 

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. 



AN EVIGUA. 

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 




THE RURAL VISITER. 



59 



{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 
traveller. 

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." 

Cid. 

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 
pleases. 

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. 



ORCHARDIST. 

No. VIIL 

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 
produced. 

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 



ijLai 



60 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



is generally harsh and rough, but rarely 
•acetous. 

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* 



rOR THE RURAL VISITER. 
" 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 

winds, 
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>^^ 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



61. 



It is aiuse of just pride to the United 
States, that her [i^overnment has proceeded 
further.in -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 
voyage. 

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 
character/' 

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- 

SAL EMAKCIPATION.'* 



THE MORNING DREAM. 

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. 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XIIL 

Hombe's Iliasu 

To calm thy passion and subdue' thy rage, 
From'^entter manners let thy g^ory grow. 

Port* 

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 



Google 



"64 



THE RURAL VISITER- 



., TO THE RVRAX VISITEIU 

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. 

A WKLL WZSIBU* 



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, 



SEIECTED. 



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 

same, 
While her sea l)eauties gracefully curi'd round the frame, 
And \Kfir hair, shedding tear-drops from all its bright 

rings. 

Fell over her white arms, to make the gold strings. 

Hence it came that this soft harp^so long hath been 

known, 
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. 



INTELLIGENCE., 



THE TULIP AND THE ROSE. 

BbAVTT in vain, HEa PRETTY EYES MAY EOLIfv 
GhARHS STRIKE THE SENSE, RVT MpRIT WINS THK 
SOUL. F.OFBfc. 

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 



FOKEIGir. 

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- 
ade. 

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 
de]>^. 

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 
same. 

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. 



FEMALE INDUSTRY. 

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. ^^^ 



MAMMOTH BEET* 

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. . 



DOMJISTfC. 

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 
,su0erers, 

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 



TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

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 
inserted. 

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. 



Digitized 



by Google 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



" Homo sum; humani nihil a mealienumputo.^—Mcm and his cares to me a man, are dear. 



VOo. I. 



BURLINGTON, TENTH MONTH (NOVEiVlB^R) 5th, 1810. 



No. 15. 



MISCELLANY. 

THE RECORDER. 
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 
advi.sa!>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, tn.it 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- 

Sfigned, 

QUEERFISH. Chairman. 
Done by otdcr of a meeting of the votaries of Venus, 
assembled at ,4 

A TltTE COPY, 

Tim Ticklbm, Secretary. 



POR THE RURAL VISITER. 

'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 



68 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



POETRT. 



ADDRESS TO THE LADXBS.r 

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. ' 



pom THE HURA*. VISITER. 

TO ANNA. 

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. 



INTELLIGENCE. 

FOREIGN. 

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. 

DOMESTIC. 

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, 
Secretary 

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 V.ci 
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 '♦ ^ 

CONNECTICUT. 
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 



TO COkK}.SPONU';xNTS. 

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. 

JA\1KS ALl-INSON, 

MERCHANT TaYLOK, 

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 Coatii.gs, 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 

CITY or BURLINGTON, N J. 

Price two Dollars sixtv-two Cents for Volume fi*'/ 



I>^yable semi-atnnnaCy in 

Digitized by 3 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



** Hcnno mm ; humani mhila me alienum futoJ^ — Mati and his cares tome a man^ are dear. 



VOL, I. 



BURLINGTON, ELEVENTH MONTH (NOVEMBER) 12th, 1810. 



No. 16. 



MISCELLANY. 



THE RECORDER. 

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 
acuities." 

A. 



A CURIOUS FACT. 

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. 

t 

m 

^" ■*== 

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 FRENCH ENIGMA. 



a 
A solution is requested. 



Yirtue is the best sop^ ofplecsut^ 
Digitized by VjOOQTC 



70 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



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 
paper. 

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 
town, 

—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. 

ON WAR. 
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 
soul.. 

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^^ 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



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 



MEMOIRS OlP SOCRATES. 
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 ? 

Z. 

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:. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



1 



ORCHARDIST. 
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. 



TTfE SOJOURNER, 

No. ir. 

AUTUMN. 

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.— 



POOR PILGRIM^ 
No. III. 

DETRACTION AMD WAR. 

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 €^ 
ruin, 
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. 



POR THE RURAL VISITER. 

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 
Deity. 

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 : 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



75 



" 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," 

P. 

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 ! 

Acknowledges* 

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 

Mis3t<i^ 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

I only mean to speak what I do know. 

Sbakbspsars. 
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- 
pasian. 

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. 

EXAMINER. 

FOR THE HURAL VISITER. 

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- 



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THE .RURAL VISITER. 



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- 
rest*" 

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 
ended. 

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. 

JLRASMUS. 



FX)R THE RURAL VISITER^ 

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 _^ 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



75 



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. 



FOR THE RUAAL VIS1T£K. 

Occasioned bij a walk in a Church Tard. 

WRITTEV BY A YOUNG LADY OF CIGRTKEN. 

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. 

O. 



DESCRIPTION OF NIGHT. 

. *' 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, 



^si= 



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^ 



4 FJEIAGMENT. 



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." 



FOR THE SVBAL VISIT£& 

TH£ VOW. 

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, 
AN EPIGRAM, 

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. 

W. 



Digitized by 



Gaogl! 



■ ".4 1 m 



76 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



SERIOUS THOUGHTS ON 
RITUOUS LiqyORS. 
No. I. 



SPI. 



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 
poor. 

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 
children. 

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. ^ 



INTELLIGENCE. 



^FOREIGN. 

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. 

DOMESTIC* 

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 
supply. 

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 ^ 
ranean. 



TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

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. 

INSOLVENT DEBTORS. 

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. 



JAMES ALLINSON, 

MERCHANT TAYLOR, 
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^ 



CITY ^F BURMNGTON, X. J. 

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 

VcjOOgle 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



^'Homo awn ; hmani nihii a me aHmum puto.^^^Man and his cares tome a man^ are dear. 



YOh. I. 



BUftLINJTON, ELEVENTH MONTH (NOVEMBER) 19th, 1810. 



No. 17. 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XVL 

Venim ubi :|ilim nitent in ctrmifie, fion «go paoci* 
Offendar mkculb, /quu ant incurta ftttUt, 
Aut hamana paimin cavU natunu 

Horace. 

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^^ 



78 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



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. 

U. 

FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 



b om to vex th« state. 



POPB- 



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 
Visiter. 

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^, 






TOR THE ftUEAL VI8ITJBK. 



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 



tHE RURAL VISITER, 



70 



SBLECTEJ) FOR TUB RURAL VISITBR. 

AN ORIENTAL TALE- 

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^^ 

INTELLIGENCE. 



FORBION. 

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. 

DOMESTIC. 

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. 



TO CORRrsPOKDENTS. 

(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 
characters. 

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. 



FOUND 

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 

DANIEL WILLIAMS, 
Nov. 17 tf BurilngtoQ. 



Digitized by 



GQQgle _^ 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



JOR THB RURAL VISITER. 

ON WAR. 
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, 

VERSES, 

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.^ 



SPlGftABC. 

His last great debt is paid-^poof Tom's no 

more ! 
Last debt! — ^Tom never paid a debt before! 



VOtL TBtB aORAL VISlT^B. 

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. 



res TBB BVBAX. VXSITBB. 

f 
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 

he 
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. 

GUIZZO: 



ANECDOTES. 

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?'' 



mamoBm 



M< 



k 



Published Weekly^ by Z). AUimo7}y 

CITY OP BtTRLlNOTON* N. J. 

tw0 Ddlars slxty^two Cents for Vdtimc first, 
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THE RURAL VISITER. 



" Homo sum: humani nihil a me alienum puto.^—Man and his cares tome a matit are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, ELEVENTH MONTH (NOVEMBER) 26th, 1810. 



No. 18. 



THE RECORDER. 
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 
command. 

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 PRESS. 

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. 



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182 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



FOR THE RUBAL VISITER. 

THE MULETEER. 

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. 

MENTOR. 

No. IIL 



Q, 



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 
^robatioiu 

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 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



83 



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 
reward. 

SOJOURNER- 
No. III. 

PHILOSOPHY AND RELIGION. 
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 
dream: 

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. 

FOa TRB RITBAX. VXSXTta. 

WRITTEN DURING A STORM. 

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. 

ERASMUS. 

MEDIOCRITY, 

The temperate zone of moderate fortune 
equally removed from high and low life, 
is most favourable for the permanence c' 
frieiuUup* 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



TOR THS RURAL VISITER* 

— — 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/' 

Daydkv. 

"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 



SftSlrS 



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 



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85 



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. 

SELECTED FOR THE RURAL VISFTER. 

AN ORIENTAL TALE. 

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- 



row. 



» 



' 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. 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

r 

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- 
nicle.'' 

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. 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 



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 

TO FARMERS. 

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, " 

AN INQUIRER. 



roa THE ftUKAL VISITER. 

THE BELLE OP ^PLEASURE. 

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. 



FOE YBE EUEAL ViSITEt. 



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. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



rU 



isaassstas 



lOR tB» RORAL VISTTSK. 

AN ACCOUNT OF VIRGfL. 

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^ 



r^ 



9(Ss 



z^att 



=*-jy 



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 

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THE tiVkAL VBltER. 



e? 



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. 

Z. 

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? 
diferenrly. 

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 
practice. 

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 
abOQif^ 

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 



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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. 



POOR PILGLIM. 
No. IV. 

MELANCHOLIC. 

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. 



NEWS. 

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 
spy. 

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 
Bort. 

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 
Morca* 

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. 



TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

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^ 

CITY OF BURMKOTON, N. J. 

Price two Dollars sixty. two Cents for Volume fir^^ 
payable semi-annually in advance. . 



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*' Homo sum ; htmani nihil a me aUenum fiutoJ^-^Man aud his cares to me a man^ are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, TWELFTH MONTH (DECEMBER) 3d, 1810. 



No* 19. 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XVIIL 

£rat stud^us ftudiendi; ex hoc enim faciUime disci 
Mrbitrabatiir. 

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. ^ 



HUMANITY. 

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. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



TOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

Communion sweet! comxAttnion large, and high! 

Young. 

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. 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

«« 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 
mind. 

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 ? 

*R. 

TO THE EDITOR OF THE RURAL VISITER. 

*57r. 

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. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



91 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

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. 
Yei 

" 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. 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

Brevity is very good 

When w'are or are not understood. 

BUTLEI. 

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. 

No POLONIUS. 



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. 



FOa THE RUKAL VISITER. 

THB PLEASURES OF A WINTER EVENING. 

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— 

What 
While 
Ye pai 

And 



Some 
Beguil 
At ho] 

Orbei 



Perha 
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. 



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FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 



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. 



FOR THE RUAAL VISITER. 

^^ 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. 

FOR A CHILD. 

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. 



FOB TUE RURAL VISITER. 

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. 



INTELLIGENCE. 

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 
premature. 

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«^ 
sand." 

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. 



TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

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. 

FOUND 

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 

^bANIEL WILLIAMS, 
Nov. 17 tf Burlington, 



Published Weekly^ by D. Allinson^ 

CITY or BURLINGTON, N. J. 

Prirt t«\'0 Dollars sixty-two Cents fot Volume firsV 
• payable semi-annually in advantc. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



** Homo mm; htmani nihil a me alienum puto*^ — Man and his cares to mc^ a man^ are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, TWELFTH MONTH (DECEMBER) lOth, 1810. 



No. 20. 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XIX. 

— " Proboft mores docili juvctitit, 
d ate." 



Ho& 



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, 



ac^ure 
age witl 
revcren 
nes$. J 
lifej by 
ingyou] 
thipg uf 
the tnin 
you suf 
guisk f( 
employ 
upon It 
discontc 
mind w 
and, wh 
effort to 
will find 
and that 
" when 
them." 



irvru Oft&M*A OA 



'Ji 



-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 
•espectabiiity, 
iturely come, 
aIO pleasure in 



TO FARMERS. 



Citizens of Nexv^yersey^ hum your oxvn 
Lime. 

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. 



LABOUR. 

■ > Weariness 
Cui snore upon the fiint, when resty sloth. 
FiWs the down pillow hard. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



SOJOURNER. 

^ 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. 

H. 

A WORN OUT PEN TO HIS SUCCESSORS.* 

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 
months,' 



•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." ' 

OF THE STUDY OF HISTORY. 

" 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 



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THE RURAI4 VISITER. 



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 
Bliciuntur. 

1P6& taE ftVKAL VXStTkiL 

ON THE BIRTH OF A CHILD, 

BY THE XOTHXa. 

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. 



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THE RURAL^VISITER. 



rOR TriE RURAL VISITER. 

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." 

CID. 

VOR TKB BtltAL ViStTBB. 

ADVENTURES OF A FLY. 

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. 

Sir, 
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- 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



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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- 
rests. 

*' 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 
side.' 

" 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, 
CAROLINE. 



MEMOIRS OF SOCRATES. 
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. 
viii. 

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- 
tions." 

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 
friends. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

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 

JENNY. 

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. 

TO A ROSE BUD. 

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. 



rOR THB RURAL VISZTBR. 

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. 

OSCAR. 



FOR THE RURAL VISTTSm. 

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. 

FOR THE RURAL VISITER* 

SOAP MAKING. 

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 
satisfactory* 

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- 



K 



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99 



ty. The whole process occupied about two 
hours* 

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 ? 

H. 



Serious Thoughts on the use of Spmtutiiis 
Li^iuors. 

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 
thought. 



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. " 

INVENTION FOB FARMERS, 

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. 



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100 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



TO " A FRIEND.'* 

>* 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 
words. 

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. 

' . THE HARP OF SORROW. 

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. 



INTELLIGENCE. 

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- 
ers. 

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- 
land. 

Mariied— On the 29ih ult. by Robert Wharton, 
Esq. Mr. yobn ICvans, of Philadelphia', Lumber ir.cr-" 
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-- 
ark. 

f— On the ISth ult. by the same Key. Gentleman, Mr. 
'jhel 5^r«, of Bloomfield, to Miss Mary Ward, of 
Newark. 

— 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- 
phia. 

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. 

TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

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, 

CITY OF BURLINGTON, K. J. 

Price two Dollars sixty-two Cents for Volume firt?, 
payable sc^xi-annuaHy in advance. 



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«♦ Homo sum; kumani nihil a me alienum putoJ" — Man and his cares to me a man, are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, TWELFTH MONTH (DECEMBER) inh, 1810. 



No. 21. 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XX. 

Quisquis laxuria tristive superstione, 

Aut adio mentis morbo calet : Hoc propius me, 

Dunn doceo insanire omnes, vos ordine adite. 

HORACI. 

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- 
ble. 

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. 



A. 



rOR THE RURAL VISITER. 



Quid brevi fortes joculamor acvo 
Malta} 



HOSAOE, 



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 
without. 



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102 



THE RURAL VISITER., 



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 
*produced.it, 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- 
junction. 

,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 
original. 

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 !** 

CID. 

POK THE RXriAL VlStTB&« 

ON WOMAN. 

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. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



10,3 



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 
Devonshire. 



SOJOURNER. 



jR» A HermiU — S. One of his forlher 
Compamons* 

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- 
ing. 

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» 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

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^[. 

AN AUTUMNAL KEFLECTIQN-. 

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. 



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104 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



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. 



FOR THB RUEAL VISITeA 

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. 



Plueal. 



M. F. 



FOR THE RVtAL ▼ISITEE. 



TO 



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. 

LEANDER. 



THE MISERIES OF A WINTER EVENING^ 

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, 
I 
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. 



INTELLIGENCE. 



FOREIGN. 

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 
resulM. 



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. 



TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

" 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" 
ideas. 

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^ 

CITY or BUKLINOTON, N.J. 

Price two Dollars sixty-two Cents for Volume firsts 
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THE RURAL VISITER. 



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



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, TWELFTH MONTH (DECEMBER) 24th, 1810. 



No. 22. 



THE RECORDER. 

No. XXL 

Mulcentem tigres et agentem carnfiine quercus. 

ViaciL. 



• 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.*' 

tr. 



A FRIENDLY HINT. 

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 



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106 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



"The 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER, 
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 
larg'e. 

'^ 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 
consolation. 

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 
being. 

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 
creation. 

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. 

JULIA.* 

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, 

PHILANDi: B.' 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



107 



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." 

CID. 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

A VISION. 

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 
way 
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. 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

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. 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

'* 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- 
males. 



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*' 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" 
many 

" — 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. 

BSS9I 

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. 
DEAR SIR, 

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. 



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109 



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 
receive. 

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 
>iea 
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. 



BEES. 

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." 



t 



FOR TUB RURAL VISITCR. 

TKE APPARITIOI^. 

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. 



ON CHARlTir. 

" 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. 



A REFLECTION AT SEA. 

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 



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TOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

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 
idea." 

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 
Life. 

•* 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- 
served. 

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 
pun. 

♦ 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** 

Ed. 
(To be concluded in our next J) 

, USEFUL ADVICE. 

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 ( 
Balely 



coun- 
over 



A woman and a glass hm never out of 
danger. * I 



FOR TBB RVaAL VISZTEE,. 

THE COMPLAINT. 

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^ 



F^R THE ROIL&L VISITER. 

IMPROMPTU. 

To A CROSS CHILD, BY ITS MOTHER. 

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 ? 



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Ill 



Serious Thoughts on the use of Spirituous 
Liquors, 

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- 
fcquences. 

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. 



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j,12 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



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 
Lord." 

• 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. 



RL^RAL ECONOMY- 

TO HAKE BUTTER IN THE WINTER. 

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. 



!l>s(st» 



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 
gIoom» 
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 
close, 

That 3eauty has wash'd with a tear. 



INTELLIGILWCE. 



Kothing of Conse(}uence has transpired since ^our 
last. 

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. 



T6 CbB-RfeSPONDENTS. 

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. 



J.M.C, 



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^ 

CITY OP BUaLlNOTOK, N» J. 

Pric5 two Dollars sixty -two Cents for Volome fii*^ 
payable semi-annnaiW in advance^ 



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" Homo sum ; humani nihil a me alienum puto.^^^-^Man and his cares to me a mmiy are dear* 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, TWELFTH MONTH (DECEMBER) 3l9t, 1810. 



No. 23. 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XXIL 

(< 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 
existence. 

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 
youth. 

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. 



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114 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



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 
despised. 

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. 



BY THOMAS MOORB, B8<^. 

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. 



ON PUNNING. 

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, 

W. 
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 

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THE RURAL VISITER. 



115 



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 : 

TO THE MEMORY OF AMELIA. 

«' 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.'*— 

Popk. 
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. 



FOR THB RURAL VI8ITRR, 

Translated from the Spanish ofTriarte* 

THE WEARY LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS. 

Ciego amor en tus cadenas, &c. 

Blind Love ! thy cruel chains 

No more, enslav'd, I'll wear. 
Thou'rt wanton—- prodigal of pains ; 
But like the miser's soniid gains 

Thy joys we ne'er can shar». 

Fair youths to thee aspire, 

And on thy favour live : 
But yet already has thy fire 
Blaz'd in the pangs of wild desire 

Ere hope its dalliance give. 

To thy wild caprice*— love ! 

No more my peace I'll yield : 
Another day thy forces move. 
Another day triumphant rove* 

To-dfty I'll rule the field. 

THE LADY'S REPLY, 

WITH THX SAME TBaMINATXONS. 

So love's delusive chains 
No more you wish to wear ! 
But frighted at the brilliant pains, 
You count as nought his golden gains, 
Hb pleasures dare not share. 

The youths whose souls aspire 

And know on hope to live } 
Undaunted breast the blazing fire. 
And unsubdued, still dare desire 

The joys that love can give. 

Then to the charms of love. 

Your heart submissive yield ; 
Hb conquering forces free must move. 
Nor you, nor I, in freedom rove 

The victor of the field. Q. 



FOU THE RURAL VISITER. 

Aut prodesse volunt, aut delectare poHtae, 
Aut simul et jacondsi et idonea dicere vitae. 

HOSAGB. 

The lines of " A Friend*' which were 
handed to the Editor of the Rural Visiter, 
were an extempore kind of production, sug- 
gested by a child in the family, not three 
years old by three months, that was amusing 
herself with the expressions, "When I die— - 
when I die ;" and they were made for her 
benefit, capacity and amusement. 

It was an uppleasant circumstance to see 
those harmless Uttle rhymes burlesqued, and 
the author treated witn contempt and rude- 
ness ; as if the temple of Fame was the great 
object of his^mbition, when he was merely 
casting his eyes towards the temple of Vir- 



tue, and pointing out the road to very little 
children. For very young children may be 
taught to know their Creator in the days of 
childhood and vanity ; and it is quite as easy 
to teach them good as evil, sense and piety, 
as nonsense and profanity : and I am confi- 
dent that the divine principle given to every 
one to profit them, would early operate in 
their soul and actuate their conduct, were 
parents attentive to excite and cherish its 
growth. Whether the lines are worthy of 
their attention and suited to instruct litde 
children, they must judge. I think however, 
to speak with pleasantry, the piece may be 
said to have the simpkx dtmtaxat et itnum^ 
recommended in Horace's art of poetry. 
And it may be considered as an axiom, that 
whatever is well adapted to effectuate the 
good object intended, must be judicious and 
laudable : and the verses were intended to 
profit and amuse little children ; (" prodesse 
Sc delectare," is the desigp of poets, says the 
quotation at the commencement of this de- 
fence) ; 1st, to benefit them by truths of 
serious import ; and, 2d, please them by the 
measured jingle of rhyme, which may amuse 
them as well as a ratde^ 

Flies, which are insects proverbial for 
their insolence and levity, are attracted by fair 
and pleasant fruits: and the best compositions 
have generally numerous criticisms from 
swarms of vain and impertinent hypercritics. 
Surely therefore, I ought to think myself 
highly honoured by the attention of this 
light and fluttering race of existences. For 
one of them, wid^ the risible phiz and gri- 
maces of a monkey, has certainly diverted 
many at my expense. For which let us ren- 
der him acknowledgements. He sneeringly 
asserts that — ^** Truihs sublime when told in 
rhyme" are res^y insipid and flat. A deadly 
blow indeed; which has slain and buried the 
**^Poor Friend" with Watts, Pope, Lady 
Guion, and a hundred other tinkling rhy- 
mers ; and my epitaph is eqiially applicable 
and honourable to them all. 

But to be more serious : — Is it not impi- 
ous to burlesque solemn things and to ridi- 
cule gravity, by childishly mimicking hum- 
ble rhymes for simple little children ? It is a 
pity that a person of sense and genius should 
descend to the level of a buffoon. 

1 have been pleased with some of the cri- 
tical remarks in the Rural Visiter. Such as 
combined instruction and pleasantry with 
chastity and politeness. But as to critics of 
a different complexion, who have treated 
others, as they have " A Friend" to chil- 
dren, I must pass by them, to solicit pard6n ^ 
of all the readers^ and more especially of the 
Editor, for being stimulated to say so much ; 
when I have some reason to suspect, and 
some charity to believe, that the hypfcrcritics 
have not intended all the miscbietdeducible 
from their criticisms,, witticisms, puns, &c. 
Wit, to be good^ can arise only from hearts 
warmed with {MCty or philanduopy. No 
wonder, therefore, it should be so rare, 
while mischievous wit is ^o very abundant. 

<' G<xd tone I never would despite^ 

Because it is of value ; 
But wit I cannm equal prize. 

Because 'tis ofj^cn shsiilow. 



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no 

It is an itching, ticklish thing ; 

It is a bad disease: 
It may fix deep a pointed sting, 

But that can never please. 

And they who think to shew their w'it 

At the expense of mine. 
May want much more to manage it 

To answer their design.** 

^^ A FRIEND. 

SOJOURNER. 

Tek foltewing appears to haVc been ad- 
dressed to a young womati with jyhom the 
^thor was acquainted in the days ofsimpli^ 
city. Meeting with her some years after- 
wards, he was grieved and disappointed to 
find, that though she had gained much in all 
fashionable accomplishments^ she had lost 
more in attractio7is ; she had put on the 
livery of the world, her mind was stored 
with sentimental literature, and she swam in 
giddy eddies on the tide of general admira- 
tion. But she had evidently paid for all this 
in that ^tt;^<?mr^tf of manners, that engaging 
simplicity, which constitutes so powerful a 
charm, and which, when once bartered for 
the intoxicating draught of praise, is so hard 
to be regained. A poet has long ago told us, 
ihat ' 



THE RURAL. VISITER. 



Whatever else of good, health, wealth, esteem, 

1 he bounteous giver of good gifts bestows. 

l-ct not amusements frivolous and vain 

Engross the time for nobler ends desien'd 

Nor prostitute to baser purposes 

;^e means dispens'd to lead thee to the skies. 

J^here peace and joy exempt from fear of change. 

lltV^""^' '^***^ ^^"^^ "^^^ "P«n here ;- ^ 
So shall thy portien through this shifting scene 
Be peace of mind, (a sweet ambrosial f^T 

Bespeaks th^ pleasantne^ of ^isdom^t ways 

The time shaU come which calls thee to depwt. 
To leave each source of virtuous pleasure heVe/ 
Thou mayst not want a guide to lead the way 
To purer pleasure in the world to come. ^ 
BeT^M yj^^'^'^nr then as' sweet perfume 

Who while they mourn the tender lie dissolv'd 
Rejoicing know their loss is gain to thee 



- Loveliness 



Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, 
But is when unadorned adorned the most.** 

And it is much to be regretted that the 
female part of the community (wWch this 
seems chiefly to respect) are less credulous 
on this subject, than on some others of less 
consequence. The effect however, which an 
vndue attention to dress has upon beauty^ is a 
consideration which our author seems to 
have overlooked, or i^trh^ips purposely omit- 
ted,, as being of minor importance. 

H. 

** So couW I press my theme as to obtain 
Thine car. nor leave thy heart quite disengag'd 
The good deed would delight me."— 
But how shall I proceed ? how urge the theme 
A^to persuade, but not to give offence; 
Condemn the manners of an enlighren'd age 
Which custom long has sanctioned, and the pride 
Of life avows ?— I know the tyrant's power. 
The world*s dread laugh ; and that in such a cause 
Beauty and Youth will be his advocates. ' 

And yet there is a prince whom we acknowledge 
(Ej^pressivc, on his banner mark the croit) 
'* A man of sorrows," disciplin'd to grief, 
Whose laws are paramount to custom's laws, 
And mttst remain, unaltered, unimpaired. 
By the grand charter of the King of kings, 
The human will is free ;— while other creature^ 
Impeird by nature's uniform command. 
Resemble each its species ; man aJone 
Presents a contrariety of cpnduct ; 
And interrupts the harmony divine. — 
But though the mind thus free m*y choose her way 
She cannot separate what nature joins ; 
Effects from causes-^we may misconstrue, 
Retrench, expunge, and mutilate the code 
Till it shall answer all our nature's whimsies, 
And coincide with error. 

But what avails ? in heaven's ownarchiveslodg'd 
Behold the pure original^yfYictt time 
Commits no ravages, the sacred law 

Safely deposited, can never change. 

Is it not then the part of sober thought ^ 

Fulty to canvass, candidly inquire. 

And with a noble firmness dare to know 

Our real situation ?— This indeed 

Deserves the name of magnanimity. 

Wifdom be thine, the gem which Mnctifios 



FO-R THE RURAL VISITER. ^ 

The following are fine instances of mental 
sensibility m Bums : 

Fate oft tears the bosom chords 

That nature finest strung; 
So Isabella's heart was form'd. 
And so that heart was wrung. 
And again — 

1 hrill the deepest notes of woe. 

del.WfT^f- P"^*"^"" ^^^^ presented such 
dehghtftd objects to them and so 

happily lUustrative of his subjedt as the 
following similies ^f the unstable/ yet en! 
chanting pleasures ftf sense. ' ^ 

But pleasures are like poppies spread, 

You seize the flowWits bloom is sh^l; 

Or like the snow-falls in the river, 

A moment white, then melt fowver. 

Or like the borealis iace, 

That fiit ere vou can point their place; 

Or like the rainbow's lovely form 

Evanishing amid the storm, ' 

That of the snow-falls is to me original, 
and m my opmion unparalleled in beauty. 
X he following stanaas in the song of « Mv 

S! ^' L^"^' l^r S^^^« ^ sincere 
?n^K ?;! ^' T'^ ^^ the beauty is bst to 
one that has not heard them sung. 

^N^allJf ? ^^.t^'»"^. »weet, and young, 

Wo artful wiles to win you, O • 
May ill befal the flattering tongue 

That would beguile my Nanie, O. 
Her face is fair, her heart is true. 

As spotless as she's bonnie, O; 
The opening daisy wet with dew 

No purer is than Nanie, O. 

Hector Macniell, in his much admired 
poem, entided *^ The Woes of WaT" fa 
mentsthus that Bums should have written 
in approbation of drinking ardent spirits : 

Robie Bums in many a ditty, 

Si%eetly sings in whisky's praise; 

Sweet is his song— the more the pity. 

E'er on it he waur'd sic lays. 



INTELLIGENCE. 

■ f «=«»?'jJ<'?'>Ie doubt U expressed amoniTttK" 
mformed m England of ihe abrogationTf "he BH^h 
Orders ,a Co«„ciI-hU BMMajes^ Was MnsideSj 
indisposed m consequence of a cold ™ns'«tal)lj 

Wherher. from "he d^^'ce^r^^'^t rWcHe'^f^' 
into the power of the British, therhlre a rieSt f» 
detain h.m a prisoner? The lawyers havhTgdecfdedi^ 
the affinnative. a ship of war i, sent out tS S f^ 

in Holi^"!)""?" '^'°' '* "<"' •■» f"" Woom at Delft 
blossom, ^*" '° ^^^^' ""» =o"«ininj 60 

. --,|ap.^or^i^rhfco^??«tts^^ 

tion of Dublin, on the subject of a iino»r?i.,f iil 
urtained some doubt of tC\t^c7l?^'^:^' 

lion, and signed by their secretary.-^. 2), Ad. 

" DEAR Sin, 

Dublin^ Report of the Cow-Pock Insatution in 

Seas^«^^ J"" "•l"'^ •"?■ I« » 'ri'h 'he great«i" 
pleasure I perceitre the r^id increase of Vaccinatitm 

hM rttended the practice, is at once a proof oflbc 

I was wavering on the'subject. Cta I? who whh^ 
^nf^^ "IP'^'^' •■»^« vaccinated a •numbe^;V^^ 

«n. fo^ m=t rn^«^;ran";;j:?r - ^^ 
could I have ever thought of inoculating for ' ,h* 

Z n^J^l ^"^""'^■nent of my experiments to 
the present hour, have I used a pariicle of variolous 

to tne test, on whom I made my first triaU For 

tZ2T r"^ ^ »|.««-~aed wh^ly 08 thrvaccL* 

^ffi'an~l^"«^ ^°" '^ ^•x"" ^'"y n-.a.eriaH^. 
gulanty appeared m the progress of the pustule. 
Believe me. See &c 

''Berke.y.Feb.l9,im?°^^'^»J^^''^- 



O ! all the iUs poor Caledonia, 
E er yet prie'd or e'er will taste, 
^V\^ I** .!»«"> »>»ack Pandemonia, 
Whisky's ill will scaith her maist! 

I would give some of the lays MacnieU 
refers to, but that I see you are determined 

1^.?"^!^ ^r^"^,d"?^^'«& iri toto. Perhaps 
JNeils Cows' melancholy tune of 

" Farewdl to the whisky, O," 

would suit your present hdmour better. 

P.P. 



TO C011R£SP0NDENTS. 
It may not be amiss to observe, that the present 
number of the Recorder came in before Cid's piece in 
our last, was published; and though they are on the 
same subject, the Editor thought it would be impmper 
fn/IS!F7'? ^''■^^' ^^^ attributes this general hmiem 
forthe>r #ex, to the estimation in which they ate 

fafo;;;"epur' '"''" ""^ ^^^"^ '^ ^^^^^ ^ 

.Jl^ ^'T ^"^ ^J^^ *° ^^ ^"*="dJy and gfsnerotis 
correspondents, that per,onaUtj^ must be studiousl/ 
avoided-eyen good composition and genuine hqpjon 
arc insufficient to insure insertion. - 

To Noviijiau, though we confess him yet a ncvice 

ZK^*'^•1t^'"'""'^'*.V^^^^ ^^^Sympatbeticvi, m 

doubt will remain with him 

" Lost in a convent's solitary gloom." 
hr.tJ''^^ .'^*"*" *\°^ revisiting a country achool*. 
house/* as it appeared to be neither fish, flesh, nor jex 



?ood red hwing. we tried decomposing by fil^-when 
mshed in a flame ! ! - 



"> I it vanished ««...^ . . 

baiShmt^nt'' '^^''^''^^^ ^"^ "^^^^ "P*'" ^^ ^^'^ '^ his 



Published Weekly, byD. Allitison, 

CITY OF BURLINGTON, N* J 

Price two Dollars sixty-two Cents for Volume fir.-, 
payable scmi-^munny in advance* 



Digitized by 



GooqIc 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



^^ Homo sum ; kumani nihil a me alienum puto^^^^Man and his cares to me a man^ are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, FIRST MONTH (JANUARY) 7th, 1811. 



No.24» 



THE RECORDER. 

No. XXIIL 

Men's evil manners Ihre in brass ; their virtues we 
wnte in water-— Suakbsfeaes. 

That man was designed for socie^ is « 
well established truth, deduced from a con- 
sideration of the innumerable wants and 
inconveniencies to which he is subject in a 
state of nature, and the benefits that arise 
from an intimate union. Experience teaches 
\is, that our happiness depends upon a com- 
bination ; and that without it we must dwin- 
dle away like scattered embers, without im- 
parting to, or receiving from each other, any 
perceptible advantage. It is one of our pri- 
mary duties therefore, to cultivate an inter- 
course, which as it advances in improvement, 
and becomes more mutual and constant, gives 
rise to other duties equally necessary to be 
observed. To enumerate all these would be 
a task too difficult and laborious. I shall 
therefore at present take notice of one only, 
which is no less beneficial to ourselves than 
to others; because the performance of it 
g^ves us an inward pleasure and self-approba- 
tion ; makes us amiable in the eyes of others, 
and is beneficial in promoting the good of 
small societies, of which the great commu- 
nity of mankind is composed* The duty so 
particularly incumbent upon us, and so pecu- 
liarly pleasing, is that of overlooking the 
slight foiUes dt others, while with care and 
diligence we impress on our minds the good 
and amiable qualities of our fellow creatures, 
and especially of those with whom we have 
frequent intercourse. This is the perfection 
of christian charitj'-, the motives to which 
are so powerful and obvious to every person 
of sense, that the non-compliance with them, 
deserves the most sex'ere censure, if not 
legal punishment. But in the constitution 
ot society it necessarily happens, that while 
diose crimes which strike at the root of mo- 
rality and tend to create civil disorders, arc 
orushed or punished by human laws— oiFences 
of an inferior nature, more obscure and gra* 
dual, though equally pernicious in their ef- 
fects, are left secure. Disguised in the spe- 
cious mask of piety and worth, vices have 
always been able to escape the feeUe power 
of justice. 

Amongst the numerous abuses of this 
nature,' which have insinuated themselves 
into society, and are beyond the reach of 
human laws, that of remembering only the 
faults of men, in exclusion to their better 
qualities, and in direct opposition tathe es- 
sqntial duty before mentioned, is the most 
dangerous ; for unless corrected or restrain- 
ed it will prove pernicious and baneful to 
lr:e and mutual intercourse. Th'is habit, so 



general and destructive of happiness, ought 
to be totally eradicated from our breasts ; 
and, I am happy to say, seems to become 
more and more obliterated, as we advance in 
discretion and refinement. The promiscu- 
ous indulgence in it, though it may to a bad 
and inconsiderate mind give a momentary 
pleasure and gratification, can never bring 
happiness along with it. On the contrary, it 
must necessarily be attended with msmy tor- 
menting thoughts, from our consciousness 
of its tending to unhinge and destroy the 
social compact, and of our having been in- 
strumental in rendering a fellow creature 
unhappy. Though therefore, the redress of 
this malevolent practice is without the sphere 
of jurisprudence ; yet the evil consequences 
that arise from its prevalence should be* an 
inducement to "Suppress it. Nay, the very 
circumstance of our inhabiting the same 
planet, and of our being liable to the same 
wants and infirmities, ought to persuade us 
to relinquish it, and cherish the opposite and 
amiaUe disposition. Besides, it is natural 
for us to rejoice in the good of others, and 
consider mankind as our companions and 
brethren ; we therefore set in contradiction 
to the dictates of nature, evince a disregard 
for our fellow creatures, and show that we 
can hate our best -friends by indulging in 
such a malicious inclination. I would not 
have my readers to infer from these asser* 
tioas, that every evil propensity of our com- 
panions should be looked upon with an eye 
of complacency. On the contrary, our indig- 
nation should always be excited at vicious 
habits, otherwise they might imperceptibly 
steal upon us, and thereby render us as aespi- 
cable as he in whom they are inherent. 

The litde faults of which I speak are of no 
detriment to any but the possessor, and which 
bv a few friendly admonitions, could with 
facility be renounced. Indeed, would we 
indulgently pass by cr// faults or rather crimes 
of another, and consider them as the effects 
of human frailty ; virtue and vice would at 
length become blended with each other, and 
equal respect be paid to the deserving and 
undeserving. An annihilation of society 
would succeed, and the laws of both God 
and man be trampled in the dust. To obvi- 
ate this, affections, have been w^isely implant- 
ed in our nature, that enable us to distinguish 
between right and wrong; between what is 
worthy of reproof and what of approbation. 
Our moral faculty is of this nature ; but from 
the perverseness of our dispositions, its salu- 
tary sway is diminished. To restore it to 
its dominion therefore, it is found necessary 
to adopt means which are numerous and 
various according to the motives that give 
rise to their adoption* 



The plan I have mentioned in this essinr, 
may perhaps have the desired efiectn-an ef- 
fect which human laws are incapaUe of pro- 
ducing. But that I may more deeply impress 
upon your mmds the necessity of observing 
a duty so universally acknowledged, let me 
observe, that the delirfitful eflFecta of thi» 
most amiable quality of which human nature 
is capable, are not imagmary ; but like a 
gentle gale, or refreshing shower in a sultry 
summer's day, yield real pleasure. We 
should therefore cherish a propensity which 
may dispose us to exert ourselves in the pre- 
servation of it— that it gratifies the more 
di^ified powers of our nature, and gives a 
relish to every wished for pleasure^ is a truth 
too obvious to be denied. 

Let me therefore solicit you to pay due 
regard tp this agreeable duty— a duty which 
pleases on reflection, and grows more exqui- 
site the more we are accustomed tp it. 

A. 



rOR TBE RURAL VISITER. 



-only add 



Uteds to thy knowledge wtmwnwthktt 

Add ▼irtuc, patience^ tempevanoe ; add love 

Bjr name to come caU'd Charitjr; the soul of all tlie 

I HAVR been amused lately with visit- 
ing the churches of almost all the different 
Erofessions of christians; and was not a 
tde astonished to find the various sects so 
numerous. Jndeed it must cause a glow of 
pleasure m every philanthropic mind, to see 
the security which in this country each de- 
nomination of religious professors eiuoys. 
Whilst m England the dissenters from the 
established mode of worship, are inc2^)able 
of filling certam offices of government, and 
are obliged to support not only their own 
sectary contributions, but also the clergy of 
the national church — ^Whilst in Spain no one 
durst openly avow his adherence to other 
teneu Uian those which are handed to the 
people from the Roman pontiff— And in 
France " moneychangers*' and scoffers pros- 
titute the temples of the Most High In 

this happy country universal toleration leaves 
the will free and unfettered : the votaries of 
religion are unacquainted with compulsiop; 
the portals to the altars of God are thrown 
wide open, and the ministers of his ordi- 
nances facilitate admission with the most 
persuasive eloquence of christian afiection. 
'• O grace serene! oh virtue heavenly fiur! 

Fiesh blooming Hope, gay daogfater of the sky. 
And Faith, our eany immortality! 
£nter each mild, each amicable guest.'* 

I cannot join with many of my fearfii) 
fellow mondists^ who are antidpoting in ad 
^.^itizedby ^ O^^ 



118 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



vance that this freedom and security in reli- 
gious forms,* arc t|ie sure harbingers of dis- 
gust and Ucence^ and that \re s\m\ ere long, 
become irreligious from satiety of religion. 
Our countrymen are surely the most church- 
going people in the world, and white we see 
them flock ip such numbers tp those holy 
sanctuaries, the sight of which always im- 
presses me^ withawe, we cannot justly accuse 
them of assembling to show new suits of 
clothesf, r6$y dieck§,. damasi lips ; to per- 
fume the church >nth odours, to sneer, and 
obtain fodd for remark on their neighbours, 
or to shun the blue devils at home ^ ogling 
with the red goddesses at church-*-but we 
must generously allow them the full meed of 
prais.e for virtuous exterior, and ascribe 
their rectitude of habit to rectitude of prin- 
ciple?. 

Last' Sunday I had the pleasure of listen- 
ing to three sermons on charity from as 
many differently professing clergymen. I 
retired to riest at night, reflecting on the 
oddity of the circumstance, and how gene- 
rally' tlie different professors claim this placid 
goddess as their tutelar spirit, yMXt they ex- 
clude allxjthers from pretending «d her smiles 
and approbation. The softness of my pillow 
soon seduced forgetfulne«3 to, my embraces^ 
and I found myself hoveringover a large plain, 
whos6 varied sterility and yerdure— 3iill and 
dale— rugged f ocks, and even pathways — 
pits and' bowers, discovered to me the area 
of human life. At the farther extremity, 
almost tdo far for my^sight, stood the sanctu- 
ary of Religion; a beautiful faite, whose 
amenity of situations, $trfiDgth and ekgance 
of structure, 9p(enhid[l(»»^ftnd«aB!]S«^8 of ac- 
cess, at tmtb bespoke it the mansion of wis- 
dom and delight.* 

* As heaven with stara* the roof with iew^s g^ows, 
And etcr-Kving la^nps depend in row* V* 

« Her^ peace descending ^ids her oQve spring. 
And scatters blessings mm her doye-like wing,** 

It was the peculiar character of this tem- 
ple, that it was visible to all who chose to 
(direct their view*- toward it. That even 
from the opposite extremity of the extensive 
plam on wiiich it stood,. those who had re- 
cently stepped into life knew whither to di- 
rect their course to arrive at it : For though 
the fane itself was not yet to be seen, it cast 
a gleam of glory which brightened the hea- 
vehs and showed its situation ; like the lumi- 
nous fli|id that in the absence of the sun from 
the polar regions, imparts its cheering rays. 

** The conscidns swains rejoicing in the sight, 
Eye the bine vault and bless the useful light." 

I noticed another characteristic quality of 
this temple of religion, which was, that it 
imparted to aH its votaries, however distant 
from it, a love of virtue, of order, of kaming 
and science, a fondness for the socialities of 
life, and an acknowledgment of the greatness 
and goodness of the Supreme Beingv whom 
they looked to as their common Father ; a 
sensation that moistened their eyes with the 
tear of rapture, and filled their souls with 
coniid^noe and delight. They journeyed 
onward with' eagerness and hihirity toward 
the fane which was the object of their hopes ; 
and their appearance formed a Btrikang con- 



trast to those whose scepticism induced 
them to doubt the vaunted excellencies of 
the goal, and to loiter carelessly on the plain. 
These unhappy beings lost the protection of 
morality. They were peevish and quarrel- 
some ; for they had no good to hope for, nor 
cause to sway them* 

Having thus contented myself with a lei- 
sure view of this interesting building, I 
turned my eye on the plain, where I saw, on 
difierent parts of it, various companies of my 
fellow mortals, who appeared to be directing 
their attention toward it and endeavouring to 
attain to it. Their appearance was widely 
different. The leaders of one company who 
proceeded, onward* with great pomp and 
splendour, seemed only solicitous by fixing 
the attention of their followers on their own 
magnificence, to prevent their getting a sight 
of the buildin?, lest they should go before 
and outstrip them* Another flock whose 
simplicity was perfectly the contrary of the 
first, moved straight onward. They would 
sometimes unaccountably stop as though 
they were waiting for others to overtake 
them. But I found after a certaia pause, 
they would recommence their march without 
^my ^cession of numbers^* Some I saw en- 
deavouring to make the road more easy 
by ablutions — others by severe penances* 
These went hallooing with great vociferation 
—Those, with down cast eyes, passed on 
without speaking even to the menabers of 
their own fraternity ; and to one group my 
attention was particularly drawn, who in- 
dulged themselves in every pleasure, and 
were all impatience to arrive at their destina- 
tion, where they conceived diey would have 
fuller scope and means for their merriment. 

It was for some time an object of wonder 
with me why these groups did not join in 
one, as they were all of one order of beings ; 
but I discovered the cause to be the differ- 
ence of opinions at setting out, about the 
course and the path they were to take. The 
paths, it is true, were very plain and alluring, 
and it was cause of surprise to me that their 
relative superiority could be made the sub- 
ject of dbsension* I found however, that a 
trifling crook, a pebble, and even a simple 
flower would sometimes create insuperaole 
objections and separate the warmest mends* 
Their object was the same* But when they 
9nce parted they seldom rejoined ; and even 
after they were on the wav, consumed time 
in bickerings from one to the other about the 
respective merits of the course they had es- 
poused* Among these groups who were 
generally at a very smalldistance from each o- 
ther; I observed a female figure, whose golden 
ringlets, azure eyes, and celestial form show- 
ed her to be a goddess ; and whose benevo- 
lence of mein, urbanity of carriage, open 
hand, and the fascinating smiles wMi which 
she greeted all, quickly discovered to me 
that her name was Charity. Her residence 
was in heaven, and he^ strongest wish was 
to return tliither. But, 

«* More bent to raise the wretched than to rise," 

she lingered on the plain, and endeavoured 
to allure the travellers onward to the fane — 
to persuade each group that the others were 



equally correct with them in the choice of a 
route — ^that one path was as sure a mean of 
attaining the goal as another ; and to induce 
them to desist from that acerbity of strife in 
which they were constandy engaged. She 
not only was active herself, but kept a num- 
ber of little winged messengers called Affec- 
tions, constandy flitting from one company 
to another widi mesfiiages of good will,^ 

'* And as a bird each fond endearment tries. 
To tempt its new fledged offspring to the skies; 
She tried each art, reprov'd each doll delay, 
AUur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way." 

Every society seemed anxious to i^roplti- 
atethe smiles of this goddcss^^-each claimed 
her as its own ; and each at the same time 
charged the others with being inimical to 
her. I could see Strife and Vanity very 
busily employed in promoting ^ese feuds* 
Thus they lingered on the way engaged in 
narrow animosities, instead of fcndeavouring 
to progiress in their journey. By the time 
they h^d arrived about midway toward its 
farther extremity, I observed that their num- 
bers were considerably decreased ; and on 
searching for the cause, I discerned « num- 
ber of deaths lurking in coverts, from >v hence 
they would discharge their fatal arrows at 
the unwary passengers : others ' concealed 
themselves in the boughs of trees, and drop- 
ped their poison on their victims j whilst 
some V supported hidden pitfalls — ^Hl their 
diSelrent means were fatal. There was no 
appeaL The unhappy subjects of their aim 
were immediately hturied into the regions 
below. So active were these rapacious 
flends, that they thinned the numbers with 
great celerity ; and in a little time all those 
whom I had seen so confidendy engaged in 
disputing who would hold the highest situa- 
tion in the temple of Religion, had entirely 
vanished — sunk into the grave, the victims 
of the deaths. 

{ I now found myself the only mortal on the 
plain — Charity soon saw me, and approach- 
ing me with a bosom heaving with anguish, 
and eyes humid with tears, she thus address- 
ed me : ** JMortal ! behold the melancholy 
catastrophe of thy fellow man« — bom for 
immortality and glorj' — ^provided with the 
fiill means of arriving at that sanctuary from 
whence he may pass with ease to the Para- 
dise of Eternity, he wastes life in petty 
cavils, and misses the happiness for which 
he was destined. His way is easy, though 
devious. It passes now over rocks, but now 
again it winds amid fruits and flowers. Each 
candidate for those regions to which I bow 
return cheerlessly and alone, possesses with- 
in himself the power of attaining the good 
that allures him. But;he forgets hia own 
felicity. Strife induces him to meddle with 
the tenets of his neighbour, and vanity im- 
pels him to insist on his own superiority. 
Life is too circumscribed for his aims aiid 
his bickerings ; and he sinks unblest into 
the grave. Go, then, reflect on what thou 
hast seen. Be diligent. Be wise. Remember 
Charity."— ——The goddess left me, and I 
awoke. CID/ 

' He who h^as good health is young, an d he 
18 rich who owesvoot ' 



Digitized by 



tjoogle 



'•^f^N.. 



THE RURAL VISITER; 



119 



roa 'THB AURAL TZSITSJI. 

tsr ocean wave had sunk the western sun ; 
Effulgent glory circled round his throne ; 
Eve's radiant star just sparkled in the blaze; 
And scarce the moon dispensed her silver rays* 

With rural melody the welkin rung, 

Hoarse 8cream*d the night-hawk, and the' latk loud 

sung; 
The dying breeze but whispered through the grovet 
And all was harmony and peace and love. 

When, seated on a hill's far seeing brow, 
Whose rocks fro\vnVl awful on the vale below ; 
After a pause which more than words exprest, 
His youthful friend, Eugenio thus address'd: 

Now when night rolls onward slowly, 

yeird in dewy, misty grey ; 
And in silence, calm and holy, 

When lie hush'd the cares of day. 

At this hour, when contemplation 

Sulks around with solemn pace; 
Here resign'd to meditation, 

Let us all these beauties trace. 

View yon rock, that, rudely climbing. 

Seems to dare the vaulted sky ! 
On its grey cliffs, sun beams shining, 

Mark!-^in twilight shades they die! 

See that cloud, so gaily beambag, 

Rain-bow'd hues of every shade; 
' Now, with thousand glories streaming* 
Now—in nights dun gloom array'd. 

Thus, when youth and joy now fire thee. 

Ceaseless pleasures meet thy view ; 
Hone's gay dreams of bliss inspire thee. 

Fancy fondly deems them true* 

Soon, ah! soon shall whelming sorrow. 

Lay their fairy fabric low ! 
Teach that nuui's the slave of error, 

Life itself, protracted woe. 

All around msalbrtanes lower» 

Griet obscijres our brightest day j 
Transient joy's enrapiur'd hour, 

Dreadful passion's tyrant sway. 

Yet though cheerless dawn thy morning. 

Sad in death though sink thy age ; 
Round thee should thy noon deforming. 

Whirlwind storms resistless rage. 

Still despair not— Power Almighty 

Can the wildest tempest calm; 
Jehovah will, in boundless pity. 

Pour to ail thy sorrows, balm. , 

And as now night's lovely regent, 

Beams her fear-dispelling ray. 
And wi':h new-form d yello^nng crescent. 

Points toward the star of day. 

So does virtue's heaven-born radiance. 

Life's dark stormy vale illume; 
Cheer with holy hope our tarriance, 

Lead to worlds beyond the tomb. 

Now the deepening gloom of twilight, 

Steals adown that dewy glade ; , 
0*er the plain, the languid mooniight. 

Faintly gilds each giimm*nng shade. 

Louder now the foaming torrent. 
Dashes down the echoing hill; 
And sadder sounds the love-lorn lament, 
- Of the far-off whipperwill. 

Mark that river's gleamy motion. 

Scarcely ruflled by a breath; 
Mild as pity's soft emotion. 

Tranquil as the christian's death. 

Sooth'd by evening's pensive power. 

Milder glow these beauties round; 
Stiller seems this silent hour^— 

Softer every dying sound. 

Keep thy soul to guilt a stranger j 

Place thy trust in aid on high ; 
Check the swelling bursts of anger; 

Turn from vite— ah I turn thine eye. 



So the hallowed calm of even. 

Shall thy heart attune to peace. 
And the fav'ring hand of Heaven, 

All thy earthly Joys inciease. 

Still thy heart's warm, glowing incense 

Pay, at friendship's holy shrine ; 
Onward trace the path of science ; 

Be mild resignltion thine. 

Often woo sweet melancholy; 

Cherish every manlier thought ; 
Dare the scornful sneers of folly, 

Fearless act as Jesus taught. 

So when keenest woes oppress thee. 

Lost to all ihc joys around — 
His word divine with Faitb shall bless thee, 

Sooth each rankling, bleeding wound. - 

And frbm tbh dark maze of error. 

When thy Maker calls away. 
This each trembling, anxious terror, 

Shall with hope from heaven allay. 

In their native colours then, shall 

Every parting object rise ; 
Death shine forth an holy angel. 

Grave the portal to'the skies. 

Here paus'd the seer — the lark had sunk to rest ; 
! His hollow screams the boding night-hawk ceas'd; 
Hesper, far westward, o'er the curling stream. 
Darted oblique a playful, dancing beam: 

Each moon-struck star its influence gently shed ; 
Night's duskiest shades slow rose from orient bed; 
The winding rivulet glisten«d to the moon. 
Its torrent waves with mimic amber shone. 

The screach-owl shriek'd — ^while, soften'd from afar, 
The frogs' hoarse murmurs ceaseless fill'd the ear. 
In raptur'd thonj^ht seemed lost the pious man. 
Then thus again in loftier strains began ;— - 

i "Oh! thou God of my life! thou pure fountain of 
good! 
All viewless in glory ! self-center'd in btiss ! 
Who caliBst at a glance the black billowy flood. 

And breathest soft in the zephyr, thy warblings of 
peace! 

Look down we implore thee, Oh ! Father of Light! 

And the frailty of man with compassion survey, 
Through this life's wildering mazes. Oh ! guide him 
aright, 

Doubt and darkness dispel, yrith thy promise of day. 

Now night's dewy slumbers, the landscape invest, 
And peace waves her banner o»er nature's repose; 

Not a cloud dare intrude on the moon-silvcr*d west; 
Not a star but more mildly and tranquilly glows. 

Oh ! thus may thy Spirit descend o'er nay soul, 

And calm the fierce passions that rankle my breait; 

Teach my hopes to aspire where yon bright fires roll; 
And hush the low cares of ambition to rest. 

Adown life's noiseless stream, where no tempests 
assail. 
Where no rocks lurk unseen, and no whirlpools 
betray; 
Oh ! grant, as till now, my bark gently to sail. 
And let faith's holy day-star point onward its way. 

Far remote from ambition, nnknown to the world. 
Let me tranquilly glide through thfe twilight of age ; 

In the port of thy rest, be my sails at last ftirl'd. 
And may eve's balmy slumbers my woes all assuage. 

But should, in thy wisdom, the whirlwind arise, 
And resistless affliction my barque overturn; 

Should black clouds of despair blot out hope from the 
skies. 
And the bolts of thy vengeance more terribly bum. 

Oh ! deign, God of Mercy ! thy arm to extend. 

And support me, just sinking, with aid from above; 

Midst the wild howling blast hear my prayers ascend. 
And dart in the red flash, the beams of thy love. 

And when my soul freed from this prison of clay. 
Shall ejitranc'd with new bliss, for eternity soar. 

May I dnnk of thy joys at the well-spring of day. 
And through ages unborn. Thee— Almighty, adore." 



Burlington, Nov. 1810. 



WALTER. 



THE NEW-JERSEY BIBLE SOCIETY. 
No. I. 
Mr. Editor J 

As your useful paper seems to be designed 
principally for the purpose of giving instruc- 
tion and entertainment to the people at large, 
frep from the incumbrance of advertisements 
and other extraneous matter, I know not 
how you can better answer your purpose for 
the present^ than by giving general informa- 
tion to your readers, on a subject of the 
greatest importance to the christian world* 

To enable you to do this, I shall furnish you 
from time to time, as my leisure will permit, 
with a number of papers on the establish- 
ment and progress of th^ New- Jersey ^blc 
Society, set up after the example of the 
British and foreign bible society, estaMislied 
about six or seven years ago by some of the 
first people in the united kingdoms of Great 
Britain, of all denominations without distinc- 
tion of sect or party. The unparalleled suc- 
cess of this excellent foreign institution, is 
really worthy the attention of every man 
who has the interest of religion, on the ex- 
tensive and benevolent scale of the gospel, 
and the welfare of his fellow men throughout 
the habitable world at heart. Extracts from 
their proceedings, full of encouraging and 
pleasing facts, will form a considerable part 
of these papers, as they shall come to hand. 

I shall begin with the second address of 
the New- Jersey Bible Society, lately esta- 
blished in this state by a union of gentlemen 
of all sects and denominations of christians, 
from the middle counties, who were anxious 
to copy so excellent a model as the one 
above referred to. 

Their first meeting was in December 1809, 
and in the same month the managers ap-» 
pointed by the society, published an address 
to their fellow citizens, and recommended 
an annual subscription for the important pur- 
pose of this institution. They proceeded to 
organise the society in part. 

In October last the first annual meeting of 
the subscribers was held at Princeton, and 
the society was completely organized, and 
rules established for their future conduct. 
At the request of many influential and pious 
chanwcters in both East and West Jersey, the 
constitution was eiilarged so as to embrace 
eveiy county in the state. 

Thus encouraged by the unanimity of 
christians of every denomination, and under 
the pleasing prospect of success in so philan- 
thropic an attempt; die managers published 
this address, in hopes of engaging the uni- 
versal attention of the inhabitants of every 
county, of which the following is a copy : 

** REPORT. 

"The managers of the New-Terscy Bible 
Society, meet for the first time the members 
of this institution with sentiments of devout 
gratitude to God, for his gracious smiles on 
dieir eiForts to diffuse the word of life among 
the destitute poor, A^d while they give 
thanks to God, they cannot forbear congra- 
tulating the society on that extensive liberali- 
ty, that has already been manifested towards 
this infant establishmepl^ Scafcely iave ten 



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120 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



mouths revolved since the first meeting of 
the contributors to this important object. 
Within that period, the managers have been 
able to ascertain, that there exists throughout 
the state an enlarged and charitable desire to 
furnish every indigent person wifh a copy of 
fte sacred scriptures* 

" Before the managers proceed to lay be- 
fore the society a detailed statement of what 
they have done ; they Ijeg leave to present 
their congratulations on uiat spirit which so 
happily hxjpx forth in Europe, and isjso wide- 
ly diffosmg itself throughout these United 
States. Already are Bible societies formed 
in New-Hampshire, Massachusets, Connec- 
ticut, New-York, Philadelphia, Maryland, 
and South-Carolina. From the united efibrts 
of so many associations, the number of which 
is continiKaiy increasinc;, have we not reason 
to hjul the approach of that day, when the 
inhabitants of the earth " shall teach no more 
every man his neighbour, and every man 
his brother, saying, know ye the Lord — but 
when they shall all know him, from the least 
unto the greatest ?" 

" To contribute to this great and interest- 
ing object, to hasten the approach of this 
happy day, which the spirit of God has held 
forth to our pious hopes; is, we presume, the 
aim and the prayer of every contributor, and 
of every member of this society. 

" On the 5th of December last the mena- 
bers of this society first met, adopted their 
constitution, and elected their board of ma- 
nagers ; who were directed to meet at this 
place on Wednesday, 20th December^ 1809. 
Agreeably to the directions of the society, 
this board did accordingly meet at the time 
and place appointed, chose dicir officers, and 
commenced their operations. They agreed 
on the address which was shortly afterwards 
published, explaining their view^, and soli- 
citing the public beneficence for the promo- 
tion of the great object of the insutution. 
The president was appointed to transmit a 
copy of the address and constitution, accom- 
panied by a letter to the Briti A and Foreign 
Bible society, and to the Philadelphia Bible 
Society. Committees were also appointed 
to ascertain and report the best manner of 
obtaining a^supply of Bibles and Testaments 
for the use of the society; and to confer with 
the Philadelphia Bible Society on the general 
objects of the respective institutions, and on 
the mode of intercourse and co-operation 
that should subsist between them. 

" At this first meeting of the board of 
managers, agents were also appointed prin* 
ci pally in the counties of Sussex, Somerset, 
Middlesex, Hunterdon, Burlington, and 
Monmouth; to solicit subscription^ ^nd do- 
nations^ which they were requested to for- 
ward with all possible despatch to the trea- 
surer of the society at New-Brunswick. At 
the same time a circular letter was agreed 
on, and soon after forwarded by the corres- 
ponding secretary, with copies of the address 
and constitution, to these agents respectively; 
requesting them to transmit information as 
to the number of copies of the sacred scrip- 
tures, that might in their opinion be adv'an- 
tageously cKstributcd in Uieir neighbour- 
hoods ; and also li^ of the contributors tp 



this establishment, with the amount of theif 
several contributions, and such other infor- 
mation relating to the objects of the institu- 
tion as they might think proper. At this 
meeting it was also resolved, that a sermon 
should be preached at the annual meetings of 
the society, by some person previously ap- 
pointed, and a collection then made for aid- 
ing the society in carrying into effect their 
benevolent designs* 

On the first Tuesday of April last, thij 
board held their second meeting. It appear- 
ed, from the report of the commttiee speci- 
ally appointed for this purpose, that Bibles 
on good paper, and printed with a new type, 
could be procured tor sixty cents each, and 
Testaments, on a similar paper and t3rpe, for 
twentjr-five cents. The board therefore ap- 
propriated the sum of six hundred and ten 
dollars for the purchase of a thousand copies 
of the Bible, and appointed a committee to 
procure them. The purchase has been made; 
the Bibles ^e received ; three hundred and 
twenty-four of them have been distributed 
by a committee appointed for the purpose, 
and six hundred and seventy-six now remain 
in the hands of the treasurer, subject to the 
orders of the board. In addition to this pur- 
chase, the board think it proper to mention 
with marked approbation, a purchase of one 
hundred copies of the New Testament by 
the president of this board, in addition to his 
life subscription, for gratuitous distribution 
among the poor. 

For the purpose of obtaining more com- 
plete information of the number and places 
of residence of persons destitute of the sacred 
scriptures; the board of managers, ^ their 
meeting in June Uwt, directed a circular let- 
ter to be forwarded to the different agents of 
this board, soliciting infbrmadon on this 
matter ; but they have to regret, that to more 
than sixty of these circulars, only nine an- 
swers have been received. Is is ardendy to 
be wished, that the several agents appoint- 
ed by the board, will in future give an 
eariy and diligent attention to this subject, 
since, without the information requested, it 
will be impossible for this board to carry the 
charitable views of this society into full, effec- 
tive operation. 

Annexed to this report the societ}* will 
find the treasurer's account of receipts and 
expenditures, together with as correct a list, 
as the information conveyed to this board 
will enable them to present, of the number 
and places of residence of the members of 
the societ}% and the contributors to its funds. 
Having laid before the society a state- 
ment of what has been done, the board of 
managers would now for a moment call the 
attention of the society to what they have in 
contemplation. 

Apprized of the importance of uniting the 
pious and liberal in every part of the state, in 
an object of so much importance to the souls 
of the most indigent portion of society, the 
board at their last meeting appointed two 
committees; the one to tsSae measures for 
embracing within the limits of this society 
the four eastern counties, and the other to 
effect a union with the four western counties 
of the state. These cpmmittees, in pursu- 



ance of their trust, have endeavoured to ef- 
fect the object of their appointment ; and we 
have now to congnitulate the society on the 
prospect of an effective union and co-opera- 
tion, of all the counties of the state in the 
views and efforts of this society. 

Upon a review of these first efforts of the 
New- Jersey Bible Society to supply the poor 
of this state with the wot^ of life, the board 
of managers have the pleasure of being able 
to congratulate the society and the public, on 
their past success, and their present pros- 
pects. They desire cordially to unite in de- 
vout thanksgivings to the Father of mercies, 
for the portion of public favour which this 
institution has already experienced ; an4 in 
ardent prayers ths^ he would graciously 
crown our future efforts to diffiise more 
widely the knowledge of his revealed w31, 
with complete success : that while he is suc^ 
ceeding the labours of the husbandman and 
the artist, filling our gamers with plenty, 
and our hearts with g^ulness ; while he is 
continuing to us the inestimable blessings of 
the word and ordinances of die everlasting 
gospel; that he would inspire the hearts of 
all descriptions of our fellow christians, ac- 
cording to their respective abiGty,^ with a 
desire liberally ta contribute to this all im- 
portant object. 

Brethren, let us never forget the nature 
and extent of the benefit which it is the aim 
of thb society to confer on the objects of its 
charity. It is no other than the means of 
obtainmg that pearl of great price, the salva- 
tion of their souls. And if our blessed Lord 
has condescended to promise a reward to 
him who gives to one of his disciples, *' in 
the name of a disciple," even a cup of cold 
water; what must be the reward of the chris- 
tian who gives to an indigent, perishing fel- 
low creature, the holy scriptures, the only 
sure guide to eternal life ! 

Christian brethren, the harvest truly b 
n-eat, while the labourers are comparatively 
few. Unite therefore, your prayers witn 
ours, that the Lord of the harvest will daily 
add to the number of those, who shall favour 
his cause, and be disposed to co-operate widi 
this society in their work of benevolence. 
And when he shall come on the clouds of 
heaven to demand an account of your respec- 
tive stewardships ; may each of you who 
have endeavoured to turn many to rightc* 
ousness, ^^ shine as the stars for ever and 
ever." 

ELIAS BOUDINOT, President. 

Princeton^ Oct. 2d, 1810. 



The humorous Sir Bally Roach, discour- 
sing one day on the advantages and disadvan- 
tages of the Union, made the following witty 
bull;—" Itls ver}' odd, gendemen, tnat in 
our sex such division should arise on this 
subject: — Now, the ladies are all ior an uni- 
on ^ a man. 

Epitaph on a person who was an incessant 
Dunner. 

Here at rest lies W. W. 
^Vho no more will trouble you, trouble you. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



12J 



\ . \ 



To the Editor of the Rural Visiter. 

I have waited some time to see the con- 
clusion of the Recorder's remarks upon the 
influence of music— 43ut in vain. 

Perhaps I have misapprehended the au- 
thor's meaning in his 9th number. If I have 
not, he has advanced opinions in it to which - 
I^ as a friend to modem refinement in poetry 
and music, can never subscribe. He asserts 
that delicacy of taste is incompatible with 
the highest beauties of composition. And 
of course, that by an attention to elegtnce, 
modem composers have not reached those 
powerful specimens of antiquity which acci- 
dent has brought down to us. 

This is a slur upon the character of modem 
composers, which they by no means deserve. 
In poetr}% Milton did not sacrifice any of the 
more striking beauties, by his attcntbn to 
elegance. His Paradise Lost, if we except 
some pieces of sacred poetr}", stands unri- 
valled in point of sublimity and grandeur. 
In music, Handel excels all the authors 
which the world has seen. Ancient music 
has indeed, great melody ; but in his compo- 
sitions, he has united melody and haraiony 
with unparalleled success. 

Melody alone may please ; but the great- 
est musical effect is produced only by the 
artful combination of both» Let any person 
who doubts the correctness of this remark, 
observe the different effects produced upon 
his own feelings by the performance of the 
best Solo and Corelli's Fourth Concerto, or 
of a Solo and one of Handel's Oratorios. In 
the one case, he feels a calm delight, like 
the sweet composure which the breath of the 
evening zephyrs, ' diffuses o'er the mind : 
in the other, his soul is awakened to grand 
and noble sensations, as when he hears the 
** bowlings of the tempest," the rumbling of 
the distant thundel*, and sets the livid light- 
nings streak the lowring skies. 

** —He stands in agitation lost. 
On pinions of imagination borne. 
His soul flies through the vast expanse of heav'n, 
And thinks she hears ihc angel choirs above." 

It is reported of a certain bishop, that on 
hearing Mrs. Gibber, whose musical talents 
were not great, sing in the Oratorio of the 
Mcssis^, he was so affected, that he could 
not refrain from crying out, " Womany thy 
sins be forgiven thee^'* 

Such are the effects of music in these da}'^ 
of ^* fastidiousness aod artful simulation.*' 
Does history afford us a parallel ? I know 
that the passions are more easily affected in 
the rude and uncivilized stag;e8 of society, 
than when refinement and civilization has 
put them under the controul of reason. These 
effects, therefore, are the strongest confirma- 
tion of the opinion, that our best modem 
authors do not lose any thing by a compari- 
son with Uiose wonderful men, Museus and 
Orpheus. 

But the Recorder speaks particularly of 
the influence of music when combined with 
poetr)'. A few observations upon this part 
of our subject will, I think, convince us of 
the incorrectness of his remarks. I hesitate 
not to affirm, that vocal mtisic is more pow- 
erful now than it ever was. "What ancient 



songs ever had such an influence upon the 
minds of men as the modem songs \ " How 
stands the glass aroimd" — ^^ The Marseilles 
Hymn,*' &c. 

The former roused the courage of a dis- 
pirited army, and put a speedy close to an 
almost desperate campaign. And the latter 
did more than any thing besides, towards 
exciting that popular phrenzy which charac- 
terized the French Revolution. The delud- 
ed multitude caught the enthusiasm of the 
words " March on," &c. and as they parad- 
ed through the streets, blood and devasta^- 
tion marked their way. England owes a 
great part of her naval glory to the patriotic 
spirit excited by the songs ""Rule Brittania," 
" IJearts of Oak," " The Battle of the Nile," 
&c. And' the raptures with which " Hail 
Columbia,*' has been chanted in America, 
shows that our hearts can be warmed by the 
recital of heroic deeds. There is no fiction in 
these representations ; but who can vouch for 
the authority of those " fabulous accounts," 
as our author terms them, of the songs of 
Amphion and Orpheus. If those ancient 
poets ever existed, their histor}- is so involv- 
ed in fiction, that we can assert nothing with 
confidence concerning it. With regard to 
Ossian, critics are imdetermined whether he 
did not live in the person of Macpherson, 
And Homer, who is cited by the Recorder, 
lived in a land of elegance and refinement as 
his writings plainly show. 

The Recoi^er thinks there must have 
been some grounO ^r the raptiu:x>us descrip- 
tions which poets haVx».<^an*3mitted to us of 
Oqjhcus drawing the rocks ai^^ees around 
him to dance at the music of his lutc^ ^True 
— but should we take the rapturous descrtp^ 
tions of poetry as the plain recital of prose, 
we should be thought as mad as Don Quix- 
ote when he mistook a flock of sheep for an 
army of pants. But if we rest the question 
upon the . descriptions of poets, what poet 
has described the power ot music like Dry- 
den ? His Ode on St. Cecilia's Day is above 
commendation. 

But songs are not the only part of vocal 
music which deserves our attention : sacred 
music is not less powerful in raising the 
nobler passions, than song in exciting the 
fiercer. The ancients aware of this fact, made 
an important use of it in their religious wor- 
ship. 

Plutarch informs us, that among the an- 
cient Greeks, the whole science of music was 
employed in the worship of the gods. And, 
indeea, the effects produced by this cere- 
mony were very striking : but will any one 
undertake to say, that the hymns addressed 
to Jupiter, can be compared with the com- 
positions of a later date ? Can any produc- 
tion of antiquity be found to equal in beauty 
or sublimity, those celebrated stanzas — 

" The Lord detoended from above» 
And bow'd the heav*n3 most high; 

And underneath his feet he cast 
The darkness of the sky.*' 

Who can contemplate this sublime de- 
scription, and not admire it ? Who can think 
of that Being that 

«* On the wings of mighty winds. 
Came flying all abroad," 



=»** 



and net be filled with th'e most exalted con* 
ceptiocs of his attributes and perfections? 
But sacred poetry has not its proper effect 
unless Bet to music. The above description 
is tame as poetry; yet when aided by the 
elegan; and powerful music of Dr. Greene, 
nothing is wanting to make it one of the 
grandest specimens of human art ever cx- 
hibitedy 

The 24th Psalm is a fine exhibition of 
poetic skill ; biit how much more powerful 
the laiguage of the poet, when accompanied 
by the deep-toned organ and the vocal choir? 

The songs of Solomon are beautiful speci- 
mens of pastoral poetry* The poet makes 
us admire his descriptions \ but the musician 
is not content with that tribute. He chants : 
** The voice of my beloved sounds,*' and we 
are in raptures with the symphony. We can 
almost see the heavenly lover *^ leaping and 
flying" to our relief, when storms of tempta- 
tion and distress assail us, and cheering us 
with the gracious promise, that we shall soon 
pass the wintry state of life, and arrive at the 
spring of eternal love and ioy. Indeed it 
would seem useless to multiply words— every 
one must admit that music is carried to higher 
perfection now, than it ever was in the timed 
of antiquity. No compositions which have 
reached us deserve to be mentioned with 
those of Purcell, Williams, Corclli, Arnold, 
Greene, M adan, Ame and HandeU. 

If the preceding observations are correct, 
the opinion advsmced by the Recorder, ^ 
though a veiy common one, is erroneous ; 
and as a blind partiality for the productions 
of ^ffitiquity, ought to be exploded. 

Philo Musico. 



POOR PILGRIM. 
No. V, 

AMSITIOVS. 

I hate iBiquity : — I pray to soar 
And dasp substantial merit, and emfaiace 
Spirits of worth, ethereal, holy, wise, 
The wonder, love, and happiness of life. 

Time may obliterate ;<^-and age consume 
All human things ; — which are but vanity.— 
Th' Egyputn pyramids, and obelisks. 
The Grecian catacombs, the bust and pen ; 
The Roman heroes, murdering mankind. 
And their triumphant arches, shall decay. 
And be forever lost, despised, forgotten x 
The adamant shall lose die bloody namet 
But virtuous wisdom, cloth'd with peaceful love. 
Dwell thou in me, and make me wholly thine ;— - 
Inspire my soul with great and noUe deeds. 
For God and fellow mortals — who're immortak 
From noUe causes, noble deeds arise ; 
What cause so noble as th* eternal God, 
Whence only merit coipes which never dies I 

The starry orbs, the sun and moon, and earU)i 
The people, rulers, laws, and mbisters, 
A» politic creation, shall decay. 
Be roli'd together like a parchment scroll. 
And time shall be no more : — then merit lives. 
And braves destrucdon, and dissolving worlds ; 
W^e the new heavens, and earth of glory come. 
Where war is learnt no more«-where nought de# 
stroys. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

To Miss ^^--"^ 

I THINK} my dear cousin, since yoa are 
so good as to supply my place in attending 
great-grandfather, and wholly confine your- 
self to his gouty chamber while I am talking 
the amusements of the city, I ought to do all 
in my power to enliven you ; and that must 
be by telling you I enjojr myself very rtuch, 
and by giving you as faithful an account as I 
can of Uie scenes of gsuety into which 1 en- 
ter. I scarcely know how to begin j ibr I 
want you to know all, and cannot recdllect 
half that has passed : hut I believe you ought 
in the first place to be perfecdy acquaitited 
with the family in which I am, for in thai \% 
my greatest enjoyment-^ I know not how 
better to describe Mr. and Mrs. A——, 
than by saying they are what I imagine my 
dear father and mother were, when no more 
than thirty— you, who see daily their cheerful 
disposition, attentive and affectionate manner 
to all around them, as well as to each other, 
can form an opinion of what they wer^ twen- 
ty years ago.— —Their children are all too 
young to give any other character of them, 
than th^t they are under most excellent order. 
This is the whole of the fapiily except Mr. 
C, a cousin of Mrs. A's ; and I suppose as 
he is twenty-three, and I can't say he has no 
character to describe, I. must do it as well as 
a month's knowledge of him personally, and 
Mrs. A's account will let me. I am sure 
now you want first to know how he looks; but 
in that I will not gratify you further than by 
saying, he has nbt your favourite blue, but 
most expressive hazel eyes : he is a man of 
naturally good udents, cultivated and im* 
proved by tlie most sedulous attention and 
hard study, to a height that mHist make many 
of equal abilities blush to see what they have 
neglected— goodness of heart, never to let 
one oi naturally weak understanding feel his 
inferiority — such generd information, that 
he seems lb conveiTse on every subject as if it 
were the one to which he had devoted his 
whole attention — ^good sense enough to talk 
on trifling subjects so as to make them inte- 
resting, and discretion to stop at the proper 
moment — ^a quickness of percepticm and keen- 
ness of wit, that enable him to cut severely, 
joined with a gentleness of disposition which 
never suffers him to wound, except to cure ; a 
firmness of manner that almost seems obsti- 
nacy, but politeness enough to apparently 
give way where it seems useless to contend. 
You will tell me such a character is impossi- 
ble—it has lio faults : but Mr. C. has faults, 
and though I don't point thtem out to you, 
you will I think perceive them in the course 
of my narrative. Mrs. A. verv wisely did 
not at first tell me how superior ne was^ or 1 
am sure I never should have had confidence 
even to answer him when hie spoke tome, 
much less venture an observation of my own ; 
hut supposing him trifling as the generality 
of young men of tha present day, I laughed 
and talked to him without troubling myself 
to collect my ideas, supposing if he did in- 
con^enience himself to think at all, he would 
lot be £0 very boorish as to suffer such rare 
noni nts as those of reflection, to be spent in 



ascertaining whether a country girl talked 
sense or nonsense, or if by way of novelty 
they wish to -make the experiment, could not 
teU which was which. 

But here am I running on without once 
taking you to a play or party, and that is not 
fair ;— I believe I'll skip you over numberless 
tea-parties, add let you see us — ^that is Mr. 
and Mrs. A. Mr. C. and me — ^ali^ht from 
the carriage at 3 o'clock, to dine with Mrs. 
Graham ;"twas a party given on the anniver- 
sary of their wedding day, and an immense 
company was collected. ** Now Jenny," 
said Mrs. A. as we entered the door, '* do 
credit to a month in town, and make a proper 
speech on this occasion."——" I," said Mr. 
C. as he gave me his hand, " should have 
thought Mrs. A. would hate told Miss 
Drayton to fi^rget all city polish, and speak 
from the dictates of her own heart, which no- 
thing can improve.** This, I assure you, 
did not banish all colour from my cheek, nor 
did I feel lets embarrassed when Mr. C. lead- 
ing me to Mrs. Graham said, " I have the 
honour of celebrating this day, by presenting 
to you one of the sweetest flowers of the 
country," — ^^ Whose sweetness shall be en- 
riched, not injured, by the air of our city," 
said Mrs. Graham, kindly placing me in a 
ch^r near her, and entering into such con- 
versation as was most likely to give me my 
self-command. While Mrs. Graham t«mM 
to speak to some one on the other tflde of her, 
I heard a gendeman whisp*^ a youn^ lady 
near me, " A country 3^ - — fine quizzing 
dare say— rU try V^ and then mardimg off, 
presendy r*'***^^^ with Mr. A. who intro* 
duce<^ ^n^ as l^i** Levis. Dinner was juat 
tnen announced, and Mr* Levis leading me 
m, placed himself by nle. He seemed at 
first so taken up with surveying, with a scru- 
tinizing eye, what was ony not round the ta- 
ble, that he forgot me for a short time, while 
I sat dreading his attack. At length, turning 
so suddenly as almost to knock the ibtk out 
of my hand—" Your first visit this to the city 
mam?" — ^^*To this city the very first." — 
" Been long in town, mam ?" — ^^ A month, 
sir.'* — ^^ Every thing seems very strange to 
you mam ?"— ** Some things strange indeed, 
sir.'* — ^ Let me help you to a piece of this 
goose— fine poultry m the country dare say 
--Suppose you feed them — I'll thank you for 
a potatoe mam ?"— " Yes sir, some very fine 
poultry ; but I never saw a greater goose than 
the present one, and I always take great plea- 
sure in feeding them," calmly putting the 
potatoe on his plate. 

Mr. Levis now fell to eating so voracious- 
ly, that I had leisure to attend to what was 
passing around, and most sadly did I feel out 
of patience at the situation in which I was 
placed ; for on my right hand were too young 
ladies laughing at their own bright speeches, 
which no one else was the better for; and &• 
unceasingly, that I frequentiy lost part of a 
most interesting conversation.—" I," said 
Mr. C, " would offer myself an advocate on 
the side of the ladies, did I not well know 
that after four years study of the law, and 
much longer of characters, I should instead 



of arguing the point bring proof at once.**« 
" And T.'^^aid Mn A. " wiHreadt 



we much oftener meet with propriety of con- 
duct in the ladies than the gentl^nen, though 
ther^ is no gene.* al rule without an exception," 
glanping a significant look at my neighbours. 
" It is my* opinion," said Mr. Levis, with 
great apparent nonchalance^ ^^ that women's 
capacities are so limited, that they keep right 
from not knowing how to go wrong." — ^^ We 
covdd not," said Mrs. Graham, " have fixed 
on a tnore considerate pleader in our cause, 
since Mr» Levis allows at once that men 
wilfully go wrong, and since now that the 
infermce to be drawn from his judicious re- 
mark is, that the greater the understanding 
die itore wrong the conduct ; no one can he- 
sitate in allowing great superiority of talents 
to the gendeman who has so just an opinion 
of our abilities." — *'*' What are your senti- 
ments on this subject Miss," said Mr. Levis, 
pouring down a tumbler of porter much 
quicker than the servant had poured it frt>m 
the b^tde, which completely hid any change 
of countenance that I should suppose must 
have taken place at so hi^h a compliment* I 
felt somewhat embarrassed at thus having the 
whole attention of the company fixed on me : 
but being piqued at Mr. Levis's behaviour, 
and recollecting that my being dashed, (a 
fashionable expression) would be a triumph 
to him, collected myself as much as I couM, 
and replied, " If so young a person, and a 
country girl, may venture an opinion while 
conscious of being ^t/izz^//,---bowing to Mr. 
Levis— I think women have not much credit 
in their propriety of conduct, since they are' 
from the general piAitcneaa of the gentlemen, 
rarely obliged to step beyond the limits of 
retirement, and induced to take their own 
part."—" Thank you, sir," said Mr. C. '* for 
thus bringing forward one of my witne^es." 
Much pleasing conversation passed among 
the gendemen on politics, in which it seems 
the ladies are not allowed to take part ; some 
sprightly conversation among the ladies, and 
some very important on the subject of dress, 
by myfmr Philadelphia neighbours^ — ^my left 
hand friend twirling his watch key and play- 
ing with his tooth-pick till the ladies retired 

to the drawing-room. And now, my dear 

cousin, I will end my letter for the present, 
though I much wish you to have the whole 
of our day ; but I have kept you so much 
longer at dinner than I intended, that I must 
this moment say, I am with love to all my 
numerous family, your affectionate 

JENNY. 
P. S. A lady's letter can't pass without a 
postscript, tiierefore I open this to beg you 
will give me an account of your proceedings 
in our dear little village, and 111 soon tell 
you more of what passes here ; only don't 
think I have become pert and vain. 



Ejects of Joy. — A London paper informs 
us of the fetal eflFects of joy upon a Mr. John 
Buries, shoemaker of Chatham, aged forty- 
five ; whose ecstacy was so great, on re- 
ceiving possession and his first rents, of a 
considerable estate which he had been kept 
out of more than twenty years; that it brought 

„ * I on a fever which terminated his life in a lew 

will readily allow that ( hours. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



Serious Thoughts on tfie use of Spiritiiom 
Liquors^ 



123 



CONCLUDED. 

It is the power of religion alone, that 
will banish the evil custom of the com- 
mon use of ardent spirits from the world. 
It is a triumph reserved for Christianity 
alone. It was Christianity that abolish- 
ed the iniamous gladiatorial shews of the 
Romans, in which thousands fought and 
died for the amusement of the populace. 
It was Christianity which broke down 
the strong holds of slavery ^ both ancient 
and modem ; and it is the same which 
will one day banish the two great evils of 
war and intemperance ftom civilized so- 
ciety. Human laws may in degree al- 
leviate*, but can never reach the heart 
(f the evily which lies in the manners of 
me people, and therefore beyond the 
reach of laws : but religion is a powerful 
principle, and reaches the thoughts^ words 
and actions of men, universally : the di- 
vine " Spirit searcheth all things,** and 
** like a two-edged sword*' is powerful, 
even ** to the dividing asunder of the** 
spiritual " joints and marrow,*' and will 
yet cut in pieces this gigantic evil also, 
however fortified by the inveteracy of 
custom. Iii thfs hope, let the votaries 
of truth and virtue confide ; and, cheer- 
fully doing their duty and day's work in 
their day-time, let them rest in confidence 
that they and their honest labours shall 
be had in remembrance for good. 

Now, as the serious and reflecting 
Christian is called to righteousness and 
temperance, and both on his own account 
and on that of others, to abstain from the 
customary and prostituted use of ardent 
spirits ; so, to be consistent, he will scru- 
pulously abstain ftom all encouragement 
of the^ame improper use of that article 
by others, though his so doing may seem 
in some degree to stand opposed to his 
temporal interests. He will not, as be- 
fore intimated, consent to make himself 
instrumental to the fabrication, or distri- 
bution of an article calculated in .the cus- 
tomary use of it to poison mankind ; but 
will deny himself of all self-gratification 
which is purchased at the expence of 
conscience 0Si virtue ; counting all pre- 
sent privations and sufferings as not wor- 
thy ** to be compared with that eternal 

* It is remailcaUe, that the present emperor of China, 
who {^erns his people, it is said, with paternal soli- 
citude, some time since interdicted by law the habitual 
use of ardettt apiriu., as well as of c^um and tobacco. 
In his dominions, (embracing nearly one ibird of man 
kind) from the idea of their being unnecessary, and of 
pernicious tendency. The interdiction is said to have 
occasioned an insurrection, which however wts sup- 
pressed by the emperor's arms* 



weight of glory," and ^' recompense of 
reward/* which await the the righteous 
in the world to come : — ^an earnest of 
which they are now given to feel, in the 
enjoyment of that sweet composure and 
peace of mind, which is emphatically sty- 
led, « the peace of God, passing all un- 
derstanding.** 

But how liable men are to misappre- 
hend evert their temporal interests, when 
the path of duty lies in contrariety to that 
of inclination, or the force of custom! 
Let us examine, in this instance, whether 
the disuse of ardent spirits as a common 
drink, is not evidently the interest^ as well 
as the duty of individuals. It is plain that 
a large expense is precluded at once, which 
will much more than compensate any 
advantages to be derived from the use of 
the article, as a stimulant ; especially if 
the numerous incidental inconveniences 
inseparably attached to the use of it, be 
taken into the estimate, Wifh the poor, 
the saving would be immense j when com- 
pared with the scantiness of their in- 
come, and the largeness of their wants. 
Suppose that by the disuse of this unne- 
cessary attWlc the saving to a laborious 
family were tVA>nt^ dollars, which is a 
very moderate av^i^^ estimate; how 
comfortable might not ttrh^^^pj ^f twen- 
ry dollars per annum make anlfiw.,^,.jQyg 
and frugal family, expended in the ptM^ 
chase of a cow, or things to that amount 
equally needed*. 

To the fabricator and vender of this 
article we may say, that it is apprehend- 
ed that their gains (whatevei' in reality 
they may be) arising out of the miseries 
of their fellow-men, coming, as it were, 
*' at the price of blood,** may not be 
blessed to them. There is One, who 
has it in his power to bless a little, and 
blast a great deal. He that ^^ establish- 
eth the poor in families,** ind *^ taketh 
the beggar from the dunghill, and set- 
teth him among princes,** can also " re- 
verse the medal,'* and ** bring the lofty 
ones low.** If a man has an eye to the* 
future and permanent establishment of 
his posterity, and of having " mercy 
shewn to them to the thousandth gene- 
ration,*' (and what man is there, having 
human feelmgs that hath not this near to 
his heart ?) let him be studious to be 
found among ^Vthem that love God and 
keep his comftiandments/' that are wil- 
ling *' to do good, and eschew evil.** It 
is religion and virtue^ indeed, that lay the 

• How much better, were the superfluous expense 
of the poor in this article, bestowed upon the procuring 
for thehr^ildren a better education, than the/ for the 
most part are afforded. 



only solid fomdation for even the temporal 
prosperity of families ; md to an observ- 
ing eye, it is the contrary to these heav- 
enly principles, that are humbling the 
houses of the proud, and under the agen* 
cy of a divine Providence, art keeping 
up a constant revolution in the affairs of 
men. How much better then would it 
be, for those who are anxious from a 
traffic so pernicious as that in ardent spi» 
rits to accumulate wealth for their chil- 
dren, to set them a patten) of principle 
and Sjdf-denial, as the purchase of ** the 
true and durable riches,** and turn their 
attention to something else, more innocent ^ 
and perhaps in the reality not less eligi^ 
blc for its profit. In one way, at least, 
the vending of spiritous liquors, is oppo- 
sed to the interest of the vender ; it tends 
directly to the impoverishment of his 
customers, and thus strikes at the root 
of his commercial prosperity*. How 
different is the picture of this man, who 
is instrumental to the depravation and im- 
poverishment of whole neighbourhoods, 
and who is undermifting in fact his own 
prosperity ; from the principled trader; 
who by an active and profitable com- 
merce promotes the wealth of all around 
himy and by extending his capital in the 
right direction, is enabled to serve him* 
self effectually, in serving others honest- 
ly! 

T^tJJfiy glorious was the situation of the 
Churclr^i^bl^^ as seen in prophetic 
vision by the ym^ ^f ^hc Apocalypse ; 
bemg emblemized by th^appearance of 
a woman clothed with thc^un, and 
crowned with twelve stars ; having the 
moon tinder her feet; that is, whea wc 
have all that is mutable and sublunary 
in subjection to the divine will^ we are 
clothed with the righteousness of Christ, 
as with the light of the sun ; and thus 
" having fought the good fight,** in our 
day, and " kept the faith, which works 
by love to the purifying rf the heart, 
henceforth there is laid up for us a 
cr^wn of righteousness ; which God the 
rig^teou3 Judge shall give us, in the 
grm day of account ;-^and not for us 
oqly,** as saith the apostle, " but to all 
them, who with sincerity love the ap. 
pcaring of the Lord Jesus Christ ;** 

* In diTen instances, it has been known» that per- 
sons setting up ttores in particular neighbourhoods* and 
selling this article, have so iropoverished their custom- 
ers, as to have been from that cause alone broken up^ 
and obliged to abandon business.—** At several iron 
works in the United States**' says Watson, in his ju. 
didous and excellent essay on the subject -before us, 
page 11, *' where much business has been ^ne, no 
kind of ipirits were used by the workmen. Ob the 
contrary, many proprietors of such works have failed, 
because of drunkennCM and disorders prevaiUng among 
the workmen." 



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1^4 



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which appearing is witncssfcd by his 
faithful followers to be an inward and 
spiritual afpearing J the second tiipe with- 
out sin unto salvation ; putting an end 
to sin and transgression, and in the room 
thercof,as predicted by the prophet Dan- 
iel, in bringing everlasting ri^teoumss. 

rOK THE NEXT RURAL VISITER* 

Brother Imharn^ 

I liked your piece sent on by the last 
Rural Visiter, and thought that Mr. Editor 
let himself down vastly by thinking the small- 
est cause could exist for an apology, in re- 
gard to several writers employing their pens 
at the same time on the same subject. 

Now, sir, I'll tell you \n plam English 
• what I think of it. I think it impossible for 
the gentlemen to be too severe with the ladies 
in this matter. Coquetry ***** sir, 
has out travelled every other wicked propen- 
sity of corrupt human nature ; it has baffled 
the most energetic exertions of my compre- 
hension, although I have said, on our grand- 
mother's observing, " that Commodore 

T n, still could see across the Pacific 

Ocean ;" " that his sight was nothing com- 
pared with the discernment peculiar to our 
family, in discovering the wiles and con- 
temptible shifts of humanity, including in a 
particular manner, those of the soft sex.^^ 

But thrice blessed had I been, if, with the 
most remarkable facultj' of this sort, it had 
Jed me to contemplate, at least a comparative 
portion of those qualities that would tend to 
make me satisfied in the knowledge that I 
am a part of this great xvhole. But, wheii 
we see affectation, self-conceit, the mo^t-**^- 
iicious tit-bits of conquest— Ojrfi»>ff -na specu- 
lating in those affairs ^«^ concern the 
heart ; take pbrA <rt, and overwhelm as a 
mighty 8tr*««tn, honour, fidelity, tenderness, 
and every characteristic that distinguishes 
the high-born mind — where is the man (I 
address myself to those only who can claim 
tfie character^y who does not spurn at every 
intimacy with the sex, who would not sooner 
converse in solitude with nature, and adore 
his God among the canine race of animals, 
than to expose the sensibilities, of an hnest 
soul to the caprices of woman ? 

woman ! dangerous help-mate — degrad- 
ed woman! with what self-complacency— 
with what dignified composure — with vhat 
secret and tremulous delight do I see thee 
sport thyself on the tortures, the most excru- 
ciating distresses of the generous*— the un- 
suspicious-^the noble, but susceptible heart ! 

" Ah! canst thou doom him to the rocks and «eSi I 
O ! far more faithless, and nvore bard than they— 
Ah ! canst thou rather see bis tender breast 

Dashed on those rocks, than to thy bosom prest ? 

His breast which once — oh vain ! you liked 90 veii; 
Where love and honour, truth and virtue dwell**' 

1 am ladies, ever in raptures when I meet 
with a '^ Lucilla," I can call myself without 
arrogation a sincere and warm friend to 
vour sex ; and know that the above observa- 
tions are in too many instances, pertinent to 
the conduct of the gentlemen. 

STAPLETON. 



INTELLIGENCE. 



EEAiiTH<iUAKB.— Extract of a letter, dated " St. 
Michael (Azores) August 24thd— One of those dread- 
ful phenomena never witness^ in your country has 
plunged many here in unspeakable wretchedness and 
affliction, and continues to occasion great terror to all 
the inhabitants of thi^ island. On the 11th of August^ 
at ten P. M. slight shocks of an earthquake were felt 
at intervals of a few minutes for four hours. During 
this time the inhabitants, under the influence of alarm 
for their personal safety as well as property, were 
running to and fro in. the greatest distress Between 
two and three a dreadful rocking was experienced 
throughout the whole island; several houses, unable 
to resist its violence, were thrown down, and many 
others were greatly damaged; and such persons &s 
sought safety in the open air, were dashed to the 
ground. Hitherto the calamity had been confined in 
ks effects, and though great injury had been sustained, 
we had to congratulate ourselves on the loss of few 
lives; but we were yet to witness a most dreadful 
spectacle. On the i2th at mklday, a hollow, rumbling 
sound was heard, the douds gathered, and the wind 
was hushed into silence ; the rocking returned, and in 
a few minutes after the village of Cozos, situated on a 
plain comprising 22 houses, was swallowed up, and 
in the spot where it stood a lake of boiling water 
gushed &rth. Many of the unfortunate inhabitants, 
who had previously retired to the elevated ground, 
beheld the sight with a degree of horror and amaze- 
ment which enchained ail their faculties: their whole 
property swept away in a few minutes, and in the 
place where their once beautiful gardens and flourish- 
ing^ orchards stood, naught now appeared but a vast 
expai^e of water! About 32 persons, it is calculated, 
have lost their lives by this awful and odaraitous 
event, and cattle and property to a considerable a- 
mount destroyed. A g^reat degree of alarm continues 

•to pervade the whole island, as on the Mist side, an 
orifice has been discovered, resemb]v>ff ^e crafln- of a 
Tokano, and out of which flai-«s occasionally burst 
through. Hitherto they hs^ ^^^^ unaccompanied by 
any ejection of vok^nip-'^^^'-,! 

Her R. H. thcJP-**^*" Amelia, whose character is 
represented a^»^*i?^8^ '*'^ fltnni^/f ; and has c^cperienced 
ercat k>*7 »«ff«rings by a tedious illness, deceased 

^ .K^bf November. The king her father, who was 

^atly attached to her, haa also been veiy seriously 

ill, but is stated as on the recovery. 



BoMESTic— A late fire at Sterling, Con. consumed 
a cotton factory with all its contents— estimated loss, 
2 20,000—2 8000 it is said was insured. 

In the manufacture of women's shoes in Lynn, 
1037 perspns are said to be employed ; they produce 
annually 987.000 shoes ; the materials of which cost 
about 500,000 dollars, and when manufactured are 
worth about 800,000; giving 300,000 dollars as the 
reward of the labour. Of this sum 40,395 doUars 
annually is the product of the work of females, in 
binding and lining the shoes. 

We zrt authorised to state that a society has been 
fornned by 1 respectable nunvber of the literary teach- 
ers in this city, for the purpose of encouraging and 
assisting each other in the employments of their pro- 
fession. Also, by a mutual exchange of good ofHces, 
and by the extension of pecuniary aid in cases of de- 
cay or misfortune, to comfort and support each other 
under those uncheering prospects, which too often 
damp the necessary ardour of their exertions. In 
fine, by a free communication of individual acqoiiv. 
men 8, to add to their general stock of qualifications 
to serve their employers ; and to promote that inte- 
rest of the community which consists in a right edu- 
cation of the rising age. To a design Bo conducive to 
the benefit of society, every benevolent mind will wish 
prosperity. 2i, Y. Spec. 

Cwrtfoir the Jnbma — We have been requested by a 
benevolent correspondent yrho has herself been greatly 
relieved, to publish a communication containing proo^ 
of the great efficacy of the root of Stramonium * in the 
cure of that afflicting disease, the Asthmiu Xhe pro- 
cess is extremely simple ; the root is dried and smoked 
by the patient in a pipe, and the relief has been found 
immediate. It is fragrant, and no fears need be enter- 
tained of any poisonous quality in it thuk used. 



•Vul 

Stink 



ujgarjv called Apple Pera^ Devil's Apple, and 
Weed; ^ik, b. Ad. I 



Diftrict of Neoi-ycrsey, ts. 
BE IT REMEMDERED, That on the sevcntli 
day of De,cember, in the thirty-fifth year of the indc- 
pcndence of the United States of America, David 
Allinson of the said district, hath deposited in this 
office, the title of a book, the right whereof he claims 
as proprietor, in the words following,^ to wit : " A 
New Critical Pronouncing Dictionary of the English 
Language, containing, 1. AH the wpids in general use 
with their significations accurately explain^, and the 
sound of each sylUUe clearly expressed, among which 
WiH he found several hundred terms with their accep. 
tioas andderivations, which appearto have been hither, 
to omitted by the best lexicographers : Also a varietj 
of the tedinical terms of raiedicine, law, commetrx, 
arts and general science. The whole interspersed with 
critical and philological observations, and references 
to the respective authorities. To which will be pre. 
fixed, Mr. Walker's principles of English pronuncii. 
tion. 2. A nomenclature of the names of distinguish- 
ed persons and places of antiquity, comprising a sketch 
of the mythology, history and biography of the aa« 
cienis, from the most authentic sources. 3. A chro- 
nological table of remarkable occurrences from the 
.eariiest ages to the present time \ conuining whatever 
IS worthy of record, as ^discoveries, inventions, &c. &c. 
Compiled from authors of the most approved reputa' 
tion, with considerable additions by an. Americ« 
Gentleman. Ad ret pulcberumat enuoi alieno labore 
deductmur, Seneca." In conformity to the Act of the 
Congress of the United States, entitled, *« An Act ft* 
the encouragement of learning by securing the copi» 
of maps, charts, and books, to the authors andpropriT 
ctors of such copies, during the times therein mention. 
ed, and also to the act intided, «' An act supplemen. 
tary to an act entitled an act for the encouragSnent of 
learning by securing^ the copies of maps, charts and 
W)oks to the authors and proprietors of such copies 
toing the limes therein mentioned, ^nd by extending 
die benefits thereof to the acts of designing, cflmv. 
iPg and etching historical and otlier prints '• 

ROBERT BOGGS. Clerk 
^ of the District of New-Jersej-. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

In pursuance of a decree of the Orphans' Court in and 
ifl'in ^nT^ ""^ BurKngtpn, of November Terra, 
1810. will be exposed to Public Sale, on Second- 
day, the llth of the second Month, on the pre- 
mises, between the hours of 12 and 5 o'clock, V.M, 
A VALUABLE PLANTATION. 

. 5 in *f i"/ ^^^ ^S*^' P**^ ^^ ^^^^^ « woodland, 
!L^ 2 ^- 1!^'' S^^^J^ ''"'' meadow; Ij ing on the 
load leading from Evesham Meeting-house to Mount- 
Holiy, m the township of Evesham, county of Bur^ 
hngton ; the buildings consist of a good two storv 
frame dwelling house, and one story kitchen, with 'a 
well of water near the door, a frame bam. com 
oreh^k '* ^" ^*** premises a bearing apple 

.ul? ^ "u?** "^r ^^^ P;°Pf «y of Josh«a Mason, late oC 
the township irforcsaid, deceased, by 

JOSEPH HAINES, 
10.U ,A. ,o-« URIAH BOkTON, 

12th mo. 10th, 1810. Administrato/s 

«. B. Any further information respecting the above 
descnbed property, may be had, by applvi g w the 
subscnbers. Im 

Lzat of Letters remainirg in the PoU-Offeey 
Burlington^ JN. Jersey^ Jan. 1, I81I. 

Samuel Ashard, Hozy Austin. Joseph Barber, car- 
penter, William Buzby. Joel Cheyshire, A. Dn. Jose 
Cabrera. Peter Ellis, WiUiam Ellet. George Fisher, 
John Fleming, Aaron M. Freeman, James Garwood, 
sen. Samuel Haines, sen. JoshuaJ||Jorden. Reuben 
Mitchel. Rachel Munclo. John Lmugent, 2. John 
W. Pearson. Didamia Renear, Nathan RockbiH, 
Samud RockhOl. John SharJ>, John Simpson^ Jacob 
Tenbroek, Abraham Tilton. Lucy Walker, Joseph 
Warrington, Capt. Reuben West, Mary Ann Whice. 
Benjamin Wright. 

^ Stepn. C. Ustick, P. M. 



Published Weekly, by D. Allinson^ 

CITY or BURLINOTOK, N. J. 

Price two Collars sixty- two Cents for Volume first, 
payable semi-aunuafty in advance. 



•^/: 



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" Homo man : hiani nikil a me alicnum puto^'' — Man and his cares tome a man, are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BUEINGTON, FIRST MONTH (JANUARY) 14th, 1811. 



No. %S. 



THE RECORDER. 

No. XXIV. 

Uc non modo omnes absterserit senectutis molesis ; 
sed effecerit mollem, etiam ct jucundam scnectun. 

ClCBB 

Men are ever apt to complain when ley 
do not meet with that degree of respect to 
which they are in their own opinions entitd. 
Others join in the cry because they peravc 
that ere long they will be placed in a sinlar 
predicament, or because they are forcc< to 
acknowledge, that it has some real fouda- 
tion. Whether all, or which of these mot^es 
have in their operation produced the cm- 
plaint which we hear so constantly repeaed, 
against the disrespect which is usually pal to 
age» it is not my predenc business to enqire. 
But for a moment, I will acknowledgethe 
trutli of this censure upon the young, uid 
endeavour to show its origin and cause. We 
will suppose that those who are in the los- 
aom of youth, and the prime of life, insead 
of seeking with assiduity the company o the 
aged ; instead of sedulously followmg the 
precepts and submitting themselves t( be 
8waycd by, the authority of their elders, ap- 
pear generally more disposed to abstain roni 
uny iiltercourse, to avoid their society, and 
to consider the advice of the more experi- 
enced, as one of the most convincing agu- 
ments in favour of a diametrically opposite 
line of conduct. Though I ani convinced 
that there are some grounds for this alega- 
tion, yet it appears to me that it has ^een 
much exaggerated ; and for those instaices 
which I have perceived, I can sati8fact>rily 
account. There are many individuals 2ven 
in the present *' degenerate age," anong 
those advanced in years, who commanc and 
receive the respect and veneration vhich 
should ever accompany them ; whilst ddiers 
are considered as being the more desen-^ing 
of contempt, and the more exposed to inper- 
tinence from their impotence. By consider- 
ing the different characters which these per- 
sons have sustained ; by examining with 
attention those points and traits in wh.ch a 
diatimilitude is obvious ; the difEcultj will 
he solved, and we will be enabled to perceive 
the sources whence these apparendy opposite 
courses of conduct proceed : we will find 
that ihcy spring from principles in human 
nature, that so far from being contradictory 
or incompatible, are intimately connected 
and very similar. 

Lysander and Flavius are two gentlemen 
of my acquiiintance, whose rank in society is 
the same ; and whose estates are of nearly 
equal value. When boys, they received in- 
struction at the same schopl from the same 
preceptors ; and entered the university toge-t 



then As their parents lived in the same part 
of the country, and were neighbours, some 
degree of intimacy subsisted between them 
for a time ; but their opinions and characters 
were so dissimilar and discordant, that it 
gradually subsided. 

Lysander wh^h a boy, was remarkable for 
a quickness of apprehension and a tenacity 
Df memory, which made a small portion of 
study requisite to enable iiim to maintain 
one of the highest standings in his class ; and 
when he left the university, the honours 
that were lavished upon him, spread his re- 
putation before him. He was hailed as a 
youth of uncommon talents and attainments, 
and his honours were considered as the pre- 
cursors of future eminence. But those very 
abilities which prevented the necessity of 
close application, lured and deceived him by 
their splendour. Relieved by the natural 
vigour of his intellectual powers from labo- 
rious study ; and taught to regard science 
and knowledge as with facility attained ; he 
devoted those hours which could be spared 
from his necessary avocations, to dissipation 
and frivolous pursuits. Those moments 
which, had they been dedicated to severe 
studies, would have^ stored his mind with 
sTound and solid learning, and awsdcened inU> 
life its latent energies, were lost or misem- 
ployed. Deluded by the encomiums and 
applause with which he was received at his 
return from the university ; he fancied that 
he had obtained that degree of knowledge, 
which would enable him to lead a life of 
indolence and inactivity. Instead of regard- 
ing them as only the premature expressions 
of hope as ta his future reputation, he con- 
sidered his coUegial acquirements as embra- 
cing all that was either useful or necessary. 
His friends endeavoured to point out to him 
the fallacy of these ideas, but their exertions 
were repelled by his self-sufficiency, as im- 

Eertinent and insulting. Being enabled by 
is fortune to pass his life without pursuing 
a profession, he has lived without employ- 
ment. He is now in his fifty-seventh year : 
and although his wealth gives him some in- 
fluence and authority, and his age secures 
to him from the virtuous, some portion of 
attention; yet few seek his company, or 
appear fond of his conversation. When ab- 
sent, he is by many ridiculed, when present, 
avoided. Thus, though Lysander is not 
degraded by any gross vices, though his 
fortune is considerable, and his understand- 
ing naturally far above mediocrity ; he is a 
disagreeable companion ; his indolence and 
ignorance expose him to many mortifications 
that render his life unhappy. He wonders his 
old age is not respected, and declaims against 
the impertinence and forwardness of youth« 



Flavius is a very different character. He 
was not gifted with ]>recocious abilities, but 
was obliged to nurture his talents with unre- 
mitting assiduity, in order to maintain that 
standing among his fellow collegiates, to 
which the generous ambition of his mind 
impelled him to aspire. His industry there- 
fore was great, and his exertions constant. 
By his indefatigable and unweared applica- 
tion, he obtained at the vmiversity distin- 
guished marks of honour ; and though these 
were inferior to those bestowed oh Lysan- 
der, the deserts of Flavius were greater. 
The expansion which his mind received 
from these studies, gave him an enlarged 
and extended view of his duties and future 
labours. He jusdy regarded them as merely 
the basis and foundation of the structure 
which he determined to erect, not as the 
edifice itself. His' industry therefore, instead 
of being at an end, was increased : he de- 
voted himself to those pursuits which re- 
quire and produce adtivity and strength of 
intellect, he stored his mind with useful 
information, and accustomed himself to 

Different as were the lines of conduct pur- 
sued by these men in their youth, are their 
characters now. Flavius is honoured, ad- 
mired, respected and esteemed ; the suavi- 
ty and urbanity of his manners fascinate and 
charm the yoimg, and dispose them to re- 
ceive with pleasure the lessons of ^isdoro,- 
which he delights to impart« He is ever 
ready to solve their doubts, and is never 
ashamed to acknowledge a mistake which 
they point out. Thus he captivates and iii- 
forms, those who are not ready to yield to 
the overbearing and domineering spirit of 
Lysander. 

Hence^ while the one complains of the 
treatment with which age is received^ the 
other is ever welcomed and reverenced ; and 
the causes are obvious. Old age has litde in 
it intrinsically to enforce respect : our defer- 
ence is paid rather to the wisdom and expe- 
rience which by a natural association of 
ideas, we usuaUy connect with those who 
have advanced in years. We gaze upon the 
relics that time has left, of the man who has 
been conspicuous for his virtue or his wis- 
dom ; with emotions similar to those with 
which we survey the mighty ruins of Balbec 
or Palmyra. A solemn awe, a holy reve- 
rence, a remembrance of former magnifi- 
cence and grandeur arise in the soul. But 
as we regard aged persons with superior 
veneration, when their characters are ren- 
dered respectable by their wisdom ; so we 
view them with proportionally greater dis- 
gust, when we see their silver honours tar- 
nished and degraded by vice or folly. Nor 



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unfortunately is this dislike confined to the 
offending individuals. Men are prone to 
form hasty, unfavourable opinions : th^y in- 
considerately jiwl»e of the whole frq% the 
misdemeanor of ale w; and those who'^tort 
their admii-aiion |iad reverence^ are looked 
upon as exceptions to the general ride^^ather 
than as composing the inoie numerous class* 
Erroneous opinions therefore, become pre- 
valent, and old age is unduly ncdected from 
the feiults o*' particular individujfc* 

■tr. 

rOU THE RU»AL VIIITBB. 

Go, lovely, sweet, and fragwwt flower; 
Go, in thy life's sUort transient hour, 
Exert o'tr Laura's heart thy power. 

And teach the maid. 
Her bloom like thine will soon be o'ei:, 

And quickly fade. 

Bid Laura in thy bcaaty view 

Her boasted charnas .that yieW to few ; 

Her artless soul pure as the dew 

That decks the thorn ; 
Her ^mper mifd as heaven's own hue, 

In fimtrmer's mom. 

Go rose — thott image of the fair, 

Go, and exert thy utnftOfTt care ; 

Tell her though bright her charms appear, 

Not long they'll last. 
Though brilliant as the meteor's gbre. 

As soon thcy*re past. 

And while she views thy beauteous face, 
WhcT« nature's every ohaim we trace- 
While o'er thy form sheil anxiouft fpact 

And drop a tea^i 
Teach her how soon will flee each grace, 

And all be dreat. 

That moment seize^that hour improve— 
Tell her with what devoted love 
Her Henry's soul and bosom move. 

And paint It well: 
Bid her that ardent love approve— 

I dare not tell. ?. 



iOR THE RURAL VIBITES. 

Jan. 5th, ISIL. 

Mr. Editor^ 

Happening to he in a country church on 
New Ye;^s Day, I was a little surprised at 
the novelty of the preachei's text, from Psal. 
Ixxiv. 9. JVe see not out sigTis* I bafd not 
before attended to it, but its brevity and 
pithiness, now greatly commaiKjed my atten- 
tion. 

^ As the speaker proceeded, I was more 
and more engaged : the manner in which he 
treated his subject was not only new, but so 
impressive, and his reasoning so conchiaive 
and affecting, that the impression it made on 
my mind, \n\\ not soon weai* off. .:^,. 

If I con give any proper sketch, of the sub- 
stance of but a sra^ part of it^ I am sure you 
will readily alford it a place in 5^ur instruc- 
tive paper. 

After opening the ienXi as connected with 
the context, and affectionately addressing 
his audience, so as to command general at- 
tention; the preacher proceeded nearly in the 
following manner : 

" Supposing then these signs to be too 
vague and indefinite for any peculiar applica- 
tion ; or that I>e5ng exhiVitcd to all the nation's 



upon earth, they bear no distinct mark of 
any particular society or kingdom ; is there 
not one sign that cannot be iiiistaken by 
a christian people, and which the Almigh* 
ty has placed like a beacon on a hUl^ to warn 
succeeding generations f Has the virgin, 
the daughter 6i Zion, ouce fair and ^o- 
rious, but now forsaken and wasted with 
misery y no tale to unfold that would give us 
an explanation of national calamities f H^e 
the once chosen. people of God, now in this 
actual time of their visitation, no other in- 
struction to offer than what may be gathered 
from the perishing condition of all human 
grandeur? Or when she sits down by the 
waters of other Babylons, and weeps, does 
she not cry aloud to die Israel of God, learn 
wisdom by my faH ? If the chastisements of 
other nations and the sad mejnorials of dieir 
ruin, do not furnish evidence that the Gover- 
nor of the Universe will not be insulted with 
impunity, and of what will befal every rebel- 
lious people upon earth, till the kingdom of 
rightcouaness be established ; the single por- 
trait of the Jewish nation, drawn by the hand 
of God himself, presents a resemblance too 
strong!)^ marked with the characteristic fea- 
tures of a christiim society. They were his 
beloved people — ^liis chosen inheritance — ^his 
favourites, whom be had separated unto hirar 
self from all nations ; among whom he had 
fixed his church and of whose holy city it 
was said, * God is her tower of defence; 
God is in the midst of her.' * If a corrupt 
and perverse generation* should a^^in * ask 
for a sign,*^ w*hat greater than this can be 
given? A Saviours mercy has bestowed 
upon us all these titles — a Saviour's goodness 
has transferred to us these their inestimable 
privileges. Rescued from idolatrous bon- 
dage, and placed and protected in this our 
kmd of Canaan, a gratitude and obedience 
proportionate to these benefits are required 
I of us. And if, Hke them we fail in our boun- 
j den dnty and service, like them we shall be 
; BO longer * for a name and for a praise and 
for a glory ;' but our heritage will be given 
into the * hands of our enemies, and our 
; pleasant portion be made a desolate wilder- 
ness.' Was the land of J udea invaded? Was 
j Jerusalem trodden down ? And is it no 
' question with a christian people, how long 
' they may experience the forbearance of their 
God ? Are we more dear to him than they 
were ? Can rfiere be stronger expressions of 
love, than those of a despiised and rejected 
Saviour, in his lamentation over their devot- 
ed city ? * Oh ! Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou 
*that killest the prophets and stonest them 
that are sent unto thee : how often would I 
have gathered thy children together, evei> as 
a hen gathereth her pbickens under her 
wings, and ye woujd not. Behold ! your 
house is left unto you desolate.' And if the 
whole of this prediction has been verified, 
with the most awful and literal completion ; 
if the Ahnighty has broken down the hedge, 
with which he inclosed and defended their 
vineyard ; is there no cause for fear, lest he 
should suffer * the wild boar to foot up,' 
and the wild beasts of the forest to enter in 
and lay waste ours ? Nay, with a dreadful 
presage of s\ich an event, may it not be said, 



d almost without a metaphor, that tlie>' 
fe now watching and howling around us. 
Bh<Hild we look for the cause of their mis- 
rtimes iu tixe decline of piety and conse-* 
(ent corruption of manners ; in the preva- 
^cy of licentious principles, which, boldly 
jouncing both law and religion, left no- 

rg to the church of God but the name of 
temple, and the external forms of wor- 
^ bow neariy shrii WtJ find in the liisto- 
m of their times, the iniquity of the pre- 
%x. day ? Or couW Ac apprehensions of a 
cistian people, if Aey acknowledged or 
daded the just judgments of Heaven, be 
Pre powerfully excited by the peculiarit\'^ 
o^ilt, or a similarity of provocation ? with. 
a aring defiance ot every restraint, hovr 
h^ the laws of God and man been insulted 
an despised? with no corrective influence, 
ha v£unly have the scriptures spoken to a 
diibedient people ? till, by a natural pro- 
ce? of the human mind, which having once 
bright itself to disregard, soon begins to 
di^te and question their aiuhorit>s ioi- 
pidr and blasphemy have not only been pida- 

, lic| proclaimed from the press, but become 
a t^ffic of profit, in a country of religious • 
hoi and persuasion. Nay, when in manj 
plaes the public worship of the Almighty is 
fonken and disrespected ; and the day which 
he [allowed to his own glory and for our 
sal^tion, is profaned ; when we partake 
of hat terrible accusation,- which the AJ- 
miaty produces against his people,, that 
whi^ the young men assembled by troc^ 
in ^e luu-lots' houses, and the adultiiess 
sconed to be ashamed, they would stand 
befqe him in Y\\s presence aixl declare 
theii hope to be in his name ; may we 
not ;rom similar crimes, with trembling, 
lookout for simUar visitations? Did then 
the ihristian dispensadoxi, which Xi^biened 
the jurden of the Mosaic ritual, dinainish 
the irce of its motal injunctions ? Has the 
supestructure of holiness weakened the 
faunjation I ^ Remember that thou ke^ 
hoLyithe sabbaeth day.' Has this solemn 
conuiand now lost every claim to observ- 
ancejr respect? Or is the inscription written: 
by t}e finger of God on tables of stone, 
eras^ in the institution of the gospel cove- 
nant x Have we no sacrifice to offer, no com- 

, raem^^v^j mercies ta acknowledge, no or^ 
dinaipes to observe ? And is the Lord's-darr 
whol!^^ exempt from those awful words which 
now proclaim the origin of the greatest 
miser.es. that ever bcfel a wretched people. 
* If th^ turn away thy foot from the eabbatliy 
from doing thy pleasure on my holy day ; 
and cjill the sabbatlt a delight, the holy of tlie 
Lordf honourable, and shalt honour him: 
not dUng thine own ways, nor finding thine 
own^asure, nor speaking tliine own words ; 
dien shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord^ 
and I will cause thee to ride upon the high 
places of the earth, and feed thee with the 
heritage of Jacob thy father ; for the mouth 
of the Lord hatli spoken it. But if ye will 
not haarken unto me, to hallow the sabb^ 
day, then will I'kindle a fire in the gates of 
Jerusalem, Mid it shall devour the palaces 
thereof, and it shall not be quenched.' Such 
are the bkBsings promi'scd to a due cbscn'- 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



12/ 



ance of the sabbath, -such arc the ciirses de- 
nounced agamst its violation, and both have 
been literally accomplished* 

But how do we read our signs ? Do we 
ever place them honesdy before us, or rather 
do we not endeavour to escape finom their 
meaning by evasive subterfuges? We pot 
far from us the evil day, by having recourse 
either to the genius of our government, the 
whole^omeness of its kwai or the extent of 
its resources* Thus times and seasons, wntti- 
ings and punishnients,rollon before eyes that 
w3i not see, and speak to ears, that will not 
hear ; and resolving all into secondar}'caaseSf 
we forget Him who ruleth in the kingdoms of 
men; who maketh empires, princes^and sub- 
jects subservient to one Almighty purpose, 
and before whom all nations are as nothing ; 
whose word has gone forth * the earth itself 
shall wax old as a garment, as a vesture will 
I change it, and it shall be changed ; but my 
salvation shall be for ever, and my righteous- 
ness shall not be abolisihed*' 

Of all the denunciations of woe recorded in 
scripture, the most tcrribk are those which 
are pronounced against ingi*atitude aiKl dis- 
obedience. Infidel and idolatrous nations, 
having served their destined purpose, have 
been destroyed and swept away from among 
men ; but the vengeance that was to pursue the 
rebellious children of God^s love, the whole 
of which was foretold by their inspired law- 
giver, and only detailed in its separate parts 
by succeeding prophets ; which also in pro- 
gressive accomplishment, is vieitki^ or has 
overtaken them in the face of aH people ; i^ 
St narrative of horror, that if in any of it§ 
particulars we were to apply it to ourselves, 
would fill us with fear and tremUing. Must 
then the stroke be felt, before we will see 
die uplifted arm ? Must we fall into the pit 
that our sins arc digging for us, without 
once considering its depdl, or its dangetf 
If the history of the Je^vs was written for our 
example, read their uerci«s and the cause 
of their misfortunes ; with a prophetic spi- 
rit, they are alt set forth by Moses in the 
32d chapter of Deuteronomy, wherein he 
says, * The Lord^s portion is his people, Ja- 
cob is the lot of Iiis inheritance* He found 
him in a desart land, and in tlie waste, howi- 
iag wilderness* He led him about, he in- 
structed him, he kept him as the apple of 
his eye ; as an eagle stirreth up her nest, 
fluttereth over her young, spreadetfa abroad 
her wings, taketh them and beareth them on 
her whigs ; so the Lord alone did lead hira, 
and tiiere was no strange god with htm% He 
made him ride on the lugh places of the 
earth, that he might eat the increase of the 
fields, and he made him to suck honey out of 
the rock, and oil out of the flinty rock ; but- 
ter of kine, and milk of sheep, with fet of 
lambs, and rams of the 1>reed of Bashan ; 
and goats, with the fat of kidneys of wheat, 
and thou didst drink the. pure blood of the 
grape. But Jeshurun ws^ed fat, and kicked: 
thou art ivaxen &t, thou art grown thick, 
thou art covered with fatness ; then he for- 
sook God who made him, and lightly esteem- 
ed the Ftock of his salvation/ 

Can ^ve be such unequal judges in our 
own case, as not to sec in their trisd and con- 



demnation, the fatal sentence of a christian 
people ? Change, only for' a, moment, the 
figurative language, and mark how similar 
the reasoning is against us ; how aggravat- 
ed attr provocatioh! Suppose tlien, that 
die God of the universe, the Lord who bath 
redeemed us with his blood, summoning us^ 
as he did rA«m, to answer the charge. * Be- 
hold ! I will plead mth thee, because thou 
sa}'est, i>*nve not sinned** Or BU|>pose him 
QiJy to say, * Son of man ! wih thou jtid^ 
them, and cause them to know their abomi- , , 
nations.* How are we prepared to answer 
accusations like these i If God has placed 
every blessing within our reach, consistent 
with our earthly state ; if he has given us a 
country, temperate in its climate, exuberant 
in its soil, exulting in its liberty, and flourish* 
ing in its commerce— If, having written his 
law and his commandments within our 
hearts, he has guarded by his protection, and 
sanctified by his presenter our holy temples^ 
' the \Asxic where his honour dwelleth ;' if, 
having removed from us all foreign oppres- 
sion > he has fixed the pillars of our govern- 
ment on liberty and truth ; if, after grafting 
us on the parent slock, he hiis caused our 
branches to flourish, that they might spread 
aix>und the fruits of righteousness ; if he 
has made of us an intelligent, great and en- 
lightened people, that his name, through us, 
might be exalted, and tliat in our dorainion^ 
he might be glorifted in the sight of all na- 
tions ; why have we forgotten the hand frbni 
which we "received alltliese blessifigs; why 
have we corrupted the land of our inheri- 
tance ; and why do the ittsulted laws of oui* 
Gml rise up before hira to upraid us with 
apostacy and ingratitude — Of that dissrfute- 
nes6 of morals, wliich must banish from the 
heart ove*y religious hope ; of those licen- 
tious principles, which set Almighty power: 
jtt defiance, and consequently separate froni 
human afitions the care of an all-seeing Pro- 
vidence J of the dissipation, riot and de- 
bauchery which abound among us, especially 
in our populous cities, »idfwhich sofottjcon-* 
firm the dwrge j of their consequent attetid- 
antB, sin, rebuke and blasphemy, which With 
impudent defiance, liave set up their banaera 
for tokens— ^e can ot^ say, * by their ffuws^ 
y« may know them.*' And had we no other 
witnesses of the trudi to shame and confound 
such false brethren, what a fearful looking 
for of judgment, would remain to us ! But 
amidst their regularities of life, which force 
MB to shut our eyes, or to hush ouV coii- 
seieffces, whilst we hear the stream of infi- 
delity, roaring in its widened ehannet, aMd 
behold 90 numy thoughtless beings, feeding 
the currents and svi^mng the rivulets of foUy 
and guilt, to augment the rapidity of the 
destructive torrent ; though we may not be 
able to oppose a; mo«md^ it is our duty to bid 
you vfLTotk its progress and to dread its ap- 
proach, it is our duty to tuni youiJ eyes 
towards the ravages of the stormy and to 
exhort you to examine ^"ell the ground of 
your security, Whether ' should the rain de- 
scend, and diie floods come and the wind 
blow,' they w4Uj beat in* vaStt upon j'our 
house, because * ft is founded on a Rock.* 
Shidl we then be taught to comprehend 



oiur signs, te lim danger approaches nearer ^ 
and from the distinct words of revelation, 
from the ftdl and final completion of pro- 
phetic warning, and from the destruction of 
nations now erased from tlie face of the earth, 
shall we turn with nK>re profitable admoni- 
tion to the calamitous scenes around us ? 
ShaH we, in taking the catalogue of wretch- 
edness from otlier nations, be uught to raise 
up our voice in thanksgiving to the throne of 
* grace, that our country 1ms not vet been 
delivered over a prey to the spoiler, ,nor 
made a field of blood. 

If from the portentous signs now eidiibit- 
ing in die world respecting the fate of na- 
tions, we turn our attention to those that 
relate to individuals, we shall soon perceive 
that they speak a language equally pointed 
and deserving our attention. But I fear that 
in this point of view also, rvt see not our 
signs. Let lis then employ the remainder 
of our time, in bestowing on them that de- 
gree of coflstdcratioli, which the beginning 
of a new year seems particularly to demand, 
&c. &c. &c. 



The followinsf bumble attempt m t^e style of '< The 
Grave," by J. Monto^mcry, was written on the 
impulse of tht moment, immediatelv after reading: 
that most excettent perfdmiance. 1 f it posfccsa. any 
merit, it will be attribute tb the enthusiasm tvhich 
all th»t ttftlior*s prodtifetfoin are calctihned to irr- 
spirc.^ 

What ^oiMdf (tistiitb thy troubled rest f 

Is it an aii^l^ voice I hear } 
Who knows the Mrtow^ of taf brea^, 
And conMs to ^eer? 

Or does ima^^ation plaj 

The notes which charm my cares to resj ? 
And thus hi numbers sw^et and gay, 
Hetieve the oppreat } 

Shall I, who fong, have been the sport 

Of fate— aji exile doom'd to ro^ ; . 
Say» shall I find that wish'd for port, 
Apeactf^ioRi^? 



In woman, late, t ^tocMmy Wfas— 

Alas! thac oile so Mt, should prove 
A traitress !— rourd'ring* with the kiss 
Ofproffer'dlove. 

Yet, a faint hope within my breast, 

Poinn to » brighter maid^'s charms 
To one who yet uxt msrfce me blest 
In beuDty's arms. 

Wilt iBou my st^istrdian an^f be— 

Wilt (hou the caras of lift beguHe ? 
Grant thus to love and live with thee. 
In vdrtue'ssmHe.'^ 

Then welcome all the storms w)ucb come, 
Whil^ trtivemAg: o'er this vale of te^rs— 
StUl blest, with joy IlfhaU that home 

Whkh Delia cheers. 
Jan. 1811. Z.£AKD£R. 



According to Tliomas^s " Histor}' of 
Printing'* there are now published in the U- 
nited States and ^Aittt Territories, upwards 
of Three Hundred and fijiy different News- 
papers! 

THE A&ABIAn's TEAGHBJl* 

An Arabian being asked of whom he 
learnt virtue? Of the bad, he replied, for 
their wickedness inspired me ivitb a detesta- 
tion of vice. 



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laa 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



FOR TBB RURAL VUITBR. 



INTELLIGENCE. 



The following, which ^iras handed me gome years 
ago by a friend, I take the liberty o£ dropping into 
your letter-box, without consent of the author. The 
occasion was as follows : A tnveUer stopping at a 
village in Pennsylvania, was there taken sick, and 
died. As he was not known, and appeared to have 
come frotn a distance, his pocket book was subniitted 
to the iBspection of a magi^rate ; when it appeared 
that he was engi^;ed to a young woman in the western 
part of the state of New^York. To her theae lines 
acre addressed. 

Cease to pace that detan scene- 
Cease to gaze along the road— 
^The cottage placed on yonder green* 
No more is Walter's calm abode. 

Cease, with •« affection's moistcn*d eye" 

To view these vestiges of taste, 
Or to indulge the secret sigh. 

And muse on Walter's lovc-wing'd haste 

Pale wanderer, go ^— nor dream agai<t 

Of joys, domestic and sincere ; 
That smile on love's unclouded reign, 

No false ambition venturing near. 

Go— and in silence and retreat^ 
Assume the armour virtue finds; 

And strengthened thus, thou'lt calmly meet 
The pang from earth thy heart unbmds. 

The pang that tells thee, here again 
No future day shall fiadnei9 see — 

No future radiance gild the plain» 
For Walter's love was alt to thee. 

These scenes bclov'd no more for hiiis 
In spring's gay mantle shall appear, 

Or yield tli joy whose warm extreme. 
Has mix'd the sigh with rapture's tear. . 

As glancing o*er imagin'd days, «• 

By fancy's 'witching influence drest i. 

His heart absorb*d the distant gaze, 
Nor marked a cloud, portentous, rest. 

Far from Tioga's cahn retreat, 
Far from his Mary and from bonuii 

Twas Walter's destiny to meet 
A summons, from aittrest to come* 

'Mid strangerHTormi 'twas his to feel 
The latest pang assigned us here s ' 

To mark no tear in silence steal, 
Or grief too great to yield a tear! 

No friend to smooth' a|)iiction*» bed# 

With tenderness draw nigh. 
Raise gently' up the aching head. 

And cheer the pensive eye ! 

But hold {—nor for a moment dOuht 

The lenient care of Heaven / 
Though comforts were not found without, 

IntenutI peace was given. 

Though round his couch no gentle form, 
To soothe his pangs drew near; 

Yet Hops convey 'd a pow'rful charm, 
Th' innpending clouds to cheer. 

That hope, which beaming tem^the sky 
Breaks through the deepest gloom ; 

And bears a mandate from on high 
To penetrate the tomb. 

This balm to, Walter's sufferings given, 

Was powerful to prove 
A sacred foretaste of that heaven, 

Whos^ origin is " Love." 



SBLRCTRD. 

TO SENSIBILITY. 

Celestial spring to nature's £av'rites given, 
Fed by the dews that bathe the flow'rs of heaven ; 
From the pure crystal of thy fountains flow. 
The tears that trickle o'er another's woe : 
The silent drop that calms our own distr e sa 
The gust of rapture at a friend's success: 
Thine the soft show'rsdown beauty's cheeks that steal, 
To sooth the heart wounds they can never heaU 
Thine too the tears of ecstacy that roll. 
When ffenius whispers to the list'ning soul; 
And thine th* hallow*d flood that drowns the eye, 
When pure rdigion lifts the thoughts on high. 



Captain Hopkins, who sailed from Rigo Oct. 15th, 
and arrived at Boston 31st ult. informs, that he had 
been applied to by the late king of Sweden for a pas- 
sage on board his vessel, to some place of safety : but 
being venr full could not gratify him. Capt. H. was 
afterwards informed he had succeeded in getting on 
board the British shipof war Victory, then in Wmgo 
Sonndt bound for En^and. The Crown Prince (Berna- 
dotte) had arrived at Stockholm, and is to be crowned 
in Aprik The destination of 30.000 French troops 
for Sweden assoon as. the ice should make the sound 
passable, is confirmed by this arrival 

Mexico — A letter from the capital- of that king- 
dom, dated Nov, 15ifa, received at Norfolk, states^ 
that an insurrection had taken place in the province 
of Guanaxato ; headed by a Parish priest and three 
captains of the army, who had succeeded in bringing 
over to them some troops of the line and a large num- 
ber of the lower class of the people stimulated by the 
hopes of plunder. The insurgents having become 
formidable by numbers, attacked and after much 
bloodshed of the inhabitants, carried the Town of 
Quanaxato; which they plundered, and committed 
great excesses in the destructiou of property. They 
then marched to the capital » expecting the populace 
would join them ; but finding themselves mistaken in 
this, they endeavoured to retire from before the capi- 
tal ; but in their retreat were attacked by Gen. Callijas 
and completely defeated and dispersed. The Viceroy 
has taken the most effectual means to prevent these 
banditti from interrupting the future tran<][uility of the 
kingdom. 

Death of GaoaGX lu. — Mr. Titcomb arrived at 
Newburyport on the 2d inst. from Nova Scotia, spoke 
December 27ih, ship Hunter, 27 days out from Liver^ 
pool bound for Nova Scotia, by which he was informed 
there had been a number of' reports in Liverpool of 
the death of the king, of which there was a confirma- 
tion the day before the ship sailed 

A passenger in the schr. Cumberland, Wheaton, 3& 
days from Lisbon, reports, that Massena and the 
French army in Portugal took up their retrograde line 
of march on the 16th of November, from their forti- 
fied camp in front of the combined army. Lord Wei- 
lineton immediately detached 14,000 troops in pursuit, 
and the next day, l^th,. pursued with his whole army ; 
that it was expected a general action might take place 
about the 22d or 23d of November, if Massena was- 
not too weak. Lord Wellington was said by the last 
accounts to be 36 miles from Lisbon, in pursuit of 
Massena. The French army lost a vast number of 
horses in their encampment, most of whom died for 
want of provender, the French having not had for 
some time any grain for man or beast. He says 500 
prisoners taken from the French were sent into Lis- 
bon. Several reports have lately reached us through 
various channeb, of a serious battle having been 
fought between the allied armies and the French, the 
resuh of which had been much in favour of the form* 
er. But the date of the affair being left undetermined, 
it is uncertain whether these rumours have an allusion 
to the battle previous to the encampment at Toras 
Vedras, or to something subsequent to the motements 
above mentioned. 



DOMSSTIC. ' 

It is said that Mr. Morier, the Brtti4i Charge dee 
affairs, has protested in form and handed to govern- 
ment, an able memorial against our taking possession 
of West Florida, The last accounts we have from 
thence represent the country in much confusion, occa- 
sioned by the existence of three distinct parties, the 
Royalists, the Conventionalists and the Fartizans of 
the U. States; the latter of which appear the most 
numerous. Some trifling actions had taken place be- 
tween the parties indiscriminately. General Claiborne 
and his troops had arrived at Baton Rouge, and con- 
siderable reinforcements were on their way thither. 

A Correspondent gives us the following pleasing 
account of the industry and ente^rise of the people of 
the town of Newburyport and Its vicinity—*' ih>eite 
tboueand Ji'oe hundred ton* of shipping (exclusive of 
schooners and sloops) has already been launched from 
the btnks of the Merrimack River during this year: 
Vessels that will not suffer by comparison with any in 
the United States; and estimated at j^ 30 per ton, is 
JS 375000 for the hulls only, and fit for sea, say JS 50 
per ton."— jSojf . Gat. 



Tl^ Bank Committee reported a bill on the 4ti» 
inst. favourable to the renewal of the Charter of the 
Bank of the United States, whk:h was made the order 
of the day for the 7th instant. 

Ouf little Navy, according to a late report from the 
Navy Department consists at .present of 9 frigates, 
1 ship, 1 corvette, 7 brigs, 1 schooner, and 169 gun 
boats. 

A letter dated at Washington, the 1st instant, says 
— " The Documents I now enclose, evidently show 
that the issuing of the President's Proclamation in 
November last, was premature. It is the opinion of 
many here, that the Non-lntercouse with England 
will not be permitted to go into operation on the se- 
cond of February. 



District of Nevo-yersey^ m. 

BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the seventh 
day of December, in the thirty-fifth year of the inde- 
pendence of the United States of America, David 
AllinsoQ of the sakl district, hath deposited in this 
office,, the title of a book, the right whereof he claims 
as proprietor, in the words following, to wit : " A 
New Critical Pronouncing Diciionary of the English 
Language, containing, 1. All the words in general use 
•with their significations accurately explained, and the 
sound of each syllable clearly expressed, among which 
will he found several hundred terms with their accep- 
tions and derivations, which appearto have been hither- 
to omitted by the best lexicographers : Also a variety 
of the technical terms of medicine, law, commerce, 
arts and general science. The whole interspersed with 
critical and philological observations, and references 
to the respective authorities To which will be pre- 
fixed,. Mr. Walker's principles of English pronuncia- 
tion. 2. A nomenclature of the names of distinguish- 
ed persons and places of antiquiiy, comprising a sketch 
of the mythology, history and biography of the an- 
cients, from the most authentic sources. 3. A chro- 
nological table of remarkable occurrences from the 
earliest ages to the present tune t containing whatever 
is % orthy of record, as discoveries, inventions, &c. &c. 
Compiled from auihora of the most approved repqia-' 
tion, with considerable additions by an American 
Gentleman. Ad res ptdcJber.imat erutas alieno labore 
deducimur, Seneca.** In conformity to the Act of the 
Congress of the United States, entitled, " An Act fcr 
the encouragement of learning by securing the copies 
of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and propri- 
etors of such copies, during the times therein mestJaB- 
ed,*' and also to the act intikled, " An act supplemen- 
tary to an act entitled an act for the encouragement of 
Icam^g by securing the copies of maps, charts and 
books to the authors and proprietors of such ccmiea. 
daring the times therein mentioned, aAd by extend^g 
the bfinefits thereof to the acts of designing, engrav- 
ing and etching historical and other prints.'* 

ROBERT BOGGS, Clerk 
of the District of New-Jersey 

NOTICE 

Is hereby given that the Subscriber, insolvent debtor, 
confined within the limits of the prison of the County 
of Burlington on Executions for debt, has applied to 
the Judges of the Court of Common Pleas of said 
County, to be discharged froni confinement according 
to the laws of New-jersey, passed for the relict of 
persons imprisoned for debt ; and that the said Judges 
have appointed ten o'clock in the forenoon of Tuesday 
the 12th day of February next, at the Court House in 
Mount-Holly, in the County aforesaid, to hear what 
can be aUedged for and against his liberation. 

JOSEPH WETHERILL. 

Burlington Prison, Jan. llth, 18U, 4u 

63» A GOOD OPPORTUmn^ 

Now at this office y for a Strang- active Lad, 
to learn press work at the printing' business; 
if found sufficient on trial j he will be taken for 
three and an half^ orfowr years; and wellpro* 
videdfor^ N. B*. A steady JoHrneijman 
Binder^ a worhnan^ for both counting-house 
and library^ may have regular employment. 

Published Weekly, by D. Allinson, 

CITY OP HUKLlirCTON, K. J. 

Price two Dollars sixty-two Cents for Voluire f.is'. 
payable scir.i anr.uaUy in advance. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



'^ Soma sum ; hwnani nihil a me aliemim putoP-^Man and his cares to me a Than^ are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, FIRST MONTH (JANUARY) 21st, laii. 



No. 26* 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XXV. 

EuBxriDBi- 
Of the various passions which the mind 
of man is enable of feeling, there is no one 
which should be more encouraged and culti- 
vated, than diat of friendship. 

Friendship is defined, a mutual attach- 
ment subsisting between two persons, and 
arising not merely fmn the general prin- 
ciples of benevolence, from emotions of gra- 
titude for favours received, from views of 
interest, nor from instinctive affirction or 
animal passion ; but from an opinion enter- 
tained by each of them, that the other is 
adorned with some amial4e or respectable 
qualities. 

Man was created a social being : formed 
to mix with the innumerable herds of ani- 
mals of his own nature who inhabit this 
^obe i the all-wise M^er, ever mindful of 
the happiness and comfort of his unworthy 
creatures, has implanted in his heart those 
feelings which so admirably qusdify him to 
participate in die exquisite sensations of love 
and friendship. But alas ! so ungrateful are 
we for favours bestowed, so corrupt are our 
natures, so watped are all the fine feelings 
of the heart by uie depraved state of society; 
that few, very few indeed, are acquamted 
with the delicious feelings of a truly disin- 
terested friendship. True it is, we hear 
perscms constantly descanting upon its plea- 
sures^ every one pretends to feel its effects, 
and are prodigal in their oflers of it to others; 
but the discerning part of mankind are not 
so easily to be imposed upon : few in reality 
feel it, few could stand thf? test. Let us ask 
our own hearts, whether we could make any 

Seat personal sacrifice for die benefit of our 
end : whether we could rejoice to see him 
suddenly raised far above ourselves, enjoy- 
ing the greatest gifts of fortune, idolised by 
the world and receiving its greatest honours ; 
while we remain in our pristine humble state, 
perhaps of dependence and poverty— and we 
shall find that few have ever felt the refine- 
ments of friendship. This is the true criterion 
by which to jvdge, and those who cannot stand 
tms test, must ncknowledge themselves stran- 
gers to the passion. But it may be asked, 
what is the source of all the s^parently 
sincere friendships >ve see subsisting among 
our acquaintance i limswer, most of them 
are dictated by selfish jnotives. One, con- 
sidering it an honour V> be esteemed the 
bosom iriend oi a person o^high standing in 
society ; another^ attaching l^mdelf because 



his friend possesses a cultivated mind from 
which he hopes to gain instruction— a fund 
of humour or great colloquial talents, by 
which he may be amused or pass hb leisure 
moments, in jolH^ and mirtti : or a third, 
is induced to an mtimacy in the hopes of 
gaining some pecuniary aid, or other advan- 
tage which it may be in the power of that 
person to bestow. 

Those who will critically examine the 
majority of intimacies which subsist among 
their acquaintances, will readily perceive ^at 
they are influenced by motives such as these. 
But I am not so illiberal as to say that all 
are actuated by selfish or ungenerous prin- 
ciples. On the contrary I know that many 
feel true friendship in all its warmth, that 
mutual iove and admiration has taken pos- 
session of each of dieir hearts, and that any 
sacrifice and change of circumstances would 
not be great enough to undermine their 
esteem or love for each other. 

Similarity of taste and temper is neces- 
sary to friendship, but even this does not 
always create it. Those who are pleased 
with the noise and bustle of the world, who 
are engaged in all the pursuits of amt^tion, 
and struggle with unceasing industiy to gain 
die temple of fame, have not time to bestow 
upon the more gentle virtues of the heart ; 
their different interests interfere, competi- 
tions and jealousies arise, fatal to all the 
sweets of social intercourse. Sylla, Cicero, 
Csesar, Anthony, Brutus, and others who 
were eminent for their abilities and virtues, 
were so engaged in the pursuits of ambition, 
diat they were entire strangers to the plea- 
sures or friendship. But those who, dis- 
regarding all the vain pomps of ambition 
and grandeur ; pursuing the same domestic 
occupations ; assimilating in age, mind and 
temper ; those whom taste leads to cultivate 
the elegant objects of literature, amid the 
sweets of rural retirement ; to wander thro' 
the grove ; to recline on the bank of some 
romantic stream, and to peruse the pages of 
some of those poets which are' so weH calcu- 
lated to enlarge the mind, and to kindle the 
^w of generous sentiment in the breast*— 
lliese are they who feel, and are calculated 
to enjoy all die pleasures of disinterested 
friencUhip. 

I know not whether I dare affirm, that 
similarity of sex is necessary to friendship. 
In general it most certainly is ; nature has 
drawn a distinct line between the sexes, and 
the different views which there are in con- 
duaing their education tends more particu- 
larly to assimilate their dispositions and tem- 
pers* The one is employed in domestic 
occupations, in sewing and knitting, and 
their leisure moments in consulting about 



dress and the ornamenting of their persons, 
their intercourse is free and ^without re- 
straint, and of course intimacies are most 
likelv to be contracted among each other. 
In tlie education of young men a different 
pl^ is pursued ; engaging in the same stu- 
dies, participating in ^e same recreations, 
of a more hardy and active nature, we sel- 
dom see them associate with the females, 
until tHj^ arrive at that age when love takes 
possession of the heart; then indeed will he 
prefer the society of his favourite maid to 
the company of his former friends, and think 
each hour miserable that is not devoted tp 
her. 

Though we are most apt to seek friends 
and confidents among those of our own sex, 
vet I am far from believing that a friendship 
between persons of different sexes is impos- 
sible or uncominon. Some indeed have posi- 
tively asserted, that the female mind is mca- 
Eable of friendship ; that they have not sta- 
ility of character, ox candour sufficient to 
authorise it ; but this opmion is illiberal and 
ungrounded. Woman certainly has not that 
firmness of character which more particular- 
ly belongs to man, but every qualification 
which is necessary for the most refined friend- 
ship, she possesses in an eminent degree : 
sensibility, delicacy of taste, a just sense of 
propriety and a knowledge ot right and 
wrong, peculiarly belongs to her : nor is 
she less devoid of generosity, firmness and 
fidelity. And are not these the greatest 
requisites ? When, with the natural sweet- 
ness of disposition and charming elegance of 
tiie woman, we see connected these qualifi- 
cations, so peculiarly congenial to the phi- 
lanthropic soul— where is the man who 
would abhor the idea of female friendship, 
and who would not readily contract an inti- 
macy, and repose every secret of his heart 
in her breast. O. 



TOR THE RUEAL VISITER. 

Phmmum enttn intererir, ^i;ubiii aitibus, et quibi};^ 

hunc tn. 
Moribos instituat. Juvsnal. 

Dr. Johnson has obser\'ed in his Life of 
Frederic of Prussia, that part, and perhaps 
not the smallest pait of the genius and cha- 
racter oi man is the effect of incident; of 
direction adventitiously given ; of habits 
acquired, and fortuitous occurrences. Whe- 
ther we came into the world as blank paper, 
or with all our ideas impressed on our un- 
derstanding, is generally supposed to be of 
no consequence to him who does not waste 
his attention in useless speculations, but di- 
rects it to the realities of life. Yet if we 
reflect that in the former case we have all 

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130 



THE RURAL VISITER- 



our character and ability to form, or be form- 
ed by others, it becomes the most interesting 
question that can employ our researches. 

I am inclined to give^his opinion of that 
great moralist an almost implicit sanction ; 
and of course I conceive the origin, the ope- 
ration and the tendencies of our actions in 
youth, of the most material importance. All 
those affectidns that can have an influence on 
the unformed mind, in this view of its pri- 
mitive nudity, become highly interesting. 
The pains and pleasures of infancy, the 
sports and pursuits of childhood, the triehd- 
ships and opinions of puberty, here rise into 
consequence as primary causes, commensu- 
rate with the greatness of man's hopes and 
happiness. To give instructions for the 
guidance of youth, or a system of moral 
discipline, embracing all the exigences of 
parental government, would be endless and 
impossible ; and would be useless if it were 
possible : for the life of man would be 
almost too short for its acqtiisition. But we 
may foi-m conclusions on primary principles 
that may serve to guide us. And as all the 
minutiae of human action are ramifications 
that may be traced to perhaps a very few 
original sources ; these conclusions ^ may 
serve us as way-marks in the direction of 
youth. The mariner does not shape his 
course through the ocean by instructions al- 
ready calculated for the circumstances of 
different winds and currents. He deduces 
his conclusions from solitary principles, or 
a few established facts. The needle, the 
chart, and the quadrant are the objects of his 
reliance, and by them he conducts his barque 
with certainty through every sea. The hus- 
bandman does not refer to his memory for 
data when to sow, to plough, or to reap — 
or to know how much cultivation is neces- 
sary for his corn, but draws his inferences 
frotn the mildness of the season, the fertility 
of the soil, and^the healthiness of the plant. 
He does not prune his trees by correspond- 
ing rules, but lops from one a little, from 
the other much : of one he clips the spiral 
branches, and represses its propensity to 
soar. He takes the spreading foliage from 
another, and assists it to aspire. 

Of those incidents which give a turn to 
the human character, perhaps the greater 
part are entirely without the scope of our 
influence. They operate unseen. They 
fasten themselves on the genius or disposi- 
tion, and give it a bias and extension which 
the most laboured morality would fail of 
dmng. It must therefore be in a great mea- 
' sure the direction of chance that adapts and 
leads the mind to any particular profession, 
; or stamps the character of the temper. I 
think we cannot have a more striking eluci- 
\ dation of this opinion than by investigating 
I the genius and passions of members of the 
, same family, or rather children of the same 
parents, whose edjLication has been conducted 
in the same manner, and who have succes- 

Hslvely passed through the routine of the 
same nurses, domestics and tutors. These 
I we must suppose would all be equally quali- 
\ Tied for the same pursuits — all possessed of 
an equality of disposition ; for all were re- 
ceived by t]>e same hands in infancy, and 



led ohward to manhood by the same means. 
Y*t we discover perhaps in each of them a 
most palpable difference from all the rest. 
One is possessed of a soaring genius ; the 
other is 'a fool. One is haughty and over- 
bearing ; the other remarkably humble. One 
quarrelsome ; the other mild and peaceable. 
That is noble, genei*ous ^nd brave ; this 
is jnean, hiddon and dastiurdly. WheiM^e 
arises this difference? H^ dame Nature 
stood at the birth and thus carefully given 
each a differeijt propensity? Nature does 
not delight in wild irregularities. Is it the 
effect of education ? The same has been be- 
stowed on all. It is therefore something for- 
tuitous and unknown. Some occult cause 
which conceals itself from the eye of enquiry. 
Some trifling circumstance that has expanded 
tl\e genius or distempered the mind. Cowley 
was made a poet by accident — in an hour of 
listlessness, taking |up a volume of poems 
that lay in his window. The stupidity of 
Gessner had consigned him to medioerity 
and labour. But the fields of his toil ex- 
panded his understanding. There he re- 
ceived the impression of that character which 
he has so divinely breathed in his writings. 

But though accident bestows the genius, 
it is education that nurtures and refines it. 
The chevalier Ramsay has given a very pro* 
per picture of Mandana totally changing the 
bent and ideas of her son Cyrus, by artfully 
placing before him the reverse of his own 
actions, and letting him correct himself by 
the comparison. Lord Hc^land on the 
contrary was so strongly of opinion that 
genius pursued its own proper course with- 
out the helping hand of education, that his 
onlyanxie^ was to permit the inclinations 
of his son, the celebrated Fox, to pursue 
their own course unrestrained. And the 
world has seen how uselessly that fine genius 
wasted itself in wild exuberancies. But the 
Earl of Chatham, though he yielded always 
to the propensities of his son WilUam Pitt 
in his studies, yet by piquing his pride and 
exciting his curiosity, he directed him to 
those sources of information which he knew 
would be of t^e greatest importance, smd 
use in life. Though the ofl&pring of the 
same parents : yet a stronger contrast can 
scarcely be shewn than in tbe characters of 
Wm. Pitt and the present Lord Chatham. 
When has the world seen a greater man than 
the former ? When a more puerile character, 
if he have any, than the latter ? The genius, 
the disposition, the habits of the one, are pre- 
cisely the reverse of what the other's once 
were. Incident must be allowed also to have a 
great share in forming the education of man, 
and therefore the main tendency of a tutor's 
solicitude should be to obtain, a dominion 
"over casualty, and himself place before the 
notice of his pupil all those occurrences that 
will be likely to sway the<mind. The smallest 
things sometimes produce these great effects. 
Volney conceived the ideas of his*' RuiAs" 
in the mouldering temples of Palmyra. The 
" Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire,*' 
by Gibbon, was occasioned by a casual visit 
to the Roman capital. Charles the Twelfdi 
was made a conqueror by the cowardice of 
his own Senate, And we owe the law of 



cavitation to the fall of an apple that origi- 
nated the thought in the mi^id of the imurior- 
tal Newton. 

I compare genius to water. An earth- 
quake, or the simple removal of a rock 
opens a fissure which suflfers it to flow from 
its ^confinement. It then gives origin to a 
river, and quickly seeks its own level. But 
in flowing to the ocepn did the hfuid of care 
remove a few obstructions, it woidd pursue 
a direct course. It would not dday its pro*- 
gress by tedious sinuosity, nor be reduced 
by a convulsive effort, to force its way thro' 
a mountain. The mariner ip the Charibbean 
sea, for the want of the helping hand of art^ 
is obliged ^ to make a circuit of nearly nine 
thousand aiile» to arrive at a point only 
thirty leagues distant from the commence* 
meot of his voyage. 

It is amazing how little Mention is gene*' 
rally paid to education. Young ladies are 
suffered to go into company, and young 
gentlemen to mix in dinner parties, and to 
travel before they have even the rudinaenta 
q{ learning in their possession* Taking the 
world^generalty, a man would prefer giving 
his son a thousand dollars without learnings 
than leaving him the inheritance of a good 
education without money. It Is said we are 
not so fond of any thing as of our ovm 
children* 

(^id dulcias liominum geaeri a natura datum est 
qualm sui cuique libcrU 

Cicero^ 

But I do not know if die horses and dogs 
of the sportsman, the libraiy of the learned^' 
die ^ main chance'' of die house wife, and 
die pretty dimples of die lady of fashion do 
not only take away from parental tenderness,, 
but ntsike their diildren appear objects 6f 
meaner and secondary importance^ We 
need not however adduce arguments tp show 
the error of this unnatural conduct. To a 
reflecting mind it must plainly appear, that a 
child well educated is the richest present we 
can midce to posterity. As ** example is 
better than precept," we can have no claim 
to die gratitude of after ages, equal to that of 
handing down living instances of vifttie, and 
culdvadon of mind* 

CID. 



SSUSCTBD FOR THB RUIAL VlStTBR* 

VeTHM vjritten during a thunder storm. 

Be calm my soul ! these thunders harmless play, 
Thy God commands, thy God directs their way; 
Tfapugh thunderB roll, t)u>ogfh liquid liglitning i]>s^ % 
Yet still be calm» these reach xiot to the skies^^«- 
Thcre fix thy portion ; it shall rest secure. 
And td^etemal ages shall endure ; 
WheB earthly things do perish and decay, 
These ttiU will bloom, nor ever fade a^#ay ! 
Arise my soul, on wings of faith and, love. 
And view t'he mansions of the bles'^ above ; 
Adore the boundless mercies of tijy God 
Who left the glorious place of h'js abodes 
- Quit his high realms where an'^is homage pay 
And took for thee a. teneme^ji of clays 
For thee my soul and all tl^jQ sinful race 
Of wretched mortals, he '^as purchaa'd grace ; 
How great the nmsom ! he his blodd did give. 
The Prince of Life w-^ giain that we mi^t live. 
Then doubt not of h'^g power or will to save— 
His power created ^^if^ iove laid him in the grave. 

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THE RURAL VISITER. 



isi 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER, 

O lott to virtue, lost to manly thouftbt. 
Lost to the noble sallies of the soul f 
Who think it toUtitde to be alone. 

'YOUNO. 

Mr. Editor^ 

As I have lately derived particular pleasure 
from reading JZimmermaf^s beautiful treatise ; 
on Salitudej I wish to recommend it to the 
.atttentive perusal o£ others: and thinking 
that some of your readers may probably, like 
.myself, be induced to shun it on account of 
its titlcj permit me to send you a few extracts 
which I then made from various parts of it, 
a little soldered together for the present pur- 
pose ; which I presume wiU evince, that this 
work is not so uninteresting as many suppose ; 
and also, that sometimes to retire from die 
busde of the world and indulge in the sweets 
of solitude, is beyond description delightful. 
The term solitude, does-not alw^s import 
a total absence from the world : we shall *^ere 
consider it as that state in which the mind 
freely resigns itself to its own reflections- In 
retirement' every man surrenders himself, 
without restraJEnt or limitation, to the guid- 
ance of his own ideas, and implicitly adopts 
the sentiments which his taste, temper, incli- 
nation and genius inspire. 

The first and most beneficial advantage 
which solitude confers, is that it accustoms 
the mind to think. The imagination becomes 
more lively, the memory more faithful, while 
the senses remain undistracted, and no. ex- 
ternal reject dissipates our thoughts. The 
mind tiioi easily recollects aQ that informa- 
tion with wliich it has been enriched by read- . 
ing, observation, experience, or discourse ; 
every reflection produces new ideas, and so- 
litude enables us to collect them all into one 
focus. We cast our eyes on Ac scenes we . 
have passed, and think on what is yet to ' 
come, until the memory of the past and future 
die away in the actual enjoyment of the pre- 
sent moment* 

In solitude man recovers from that dis- 
traction which had torn him from himself : 
he feels in his mind a clear and intimate 
knowledge <rf what he was, and what he may 
become ; he lives more within himself and 
for .himself, than in external objects ; he en- 
ters into the state of nature and freedom : no 
longer plays an artificial part, no longer re- 
presents a different personage ; but thinks, 
speaks and acts according to his proper cha- 
racter and sentiments ; no longer dreads a 
severe master, an imperioas tyrant : he ridi- 
cules no one, is himself proof against the 
shafts of calumny, an<I neither the constraints 
of business nor the ceremonies of fashion 
disquiet his niind : but, breaking through 
the shackles of servile habit and arbitrary 
custom, he thinks with confidence and cou- 
rage, and the sensU)ilities of his heart resign 
themselves to the sentiments of his mind. 
Many have in solitude acquired so great a 
superiority, as to enable them to defy events : 
many champions of virtue, like the majestic 
cedar which braves the fury of the loudest 
wind, have resisted in retirement all the 
storms of vice : visited by the august spirits 
of the dead, left to listen to their own 



thoughts, and secluded from the sight of 
every breathing object, they must converse 
with God alone— the heart expands to every 
noble sentiment, the mind reaches its sub- 
limest conceptions, and boldy taking the path 
of virtue, they lead a life of innocence and 
ease. 

But man is bom for society. He must 
must have a small circle of acquaintance. 
I say smali^ because the fewer his associates, 
the more closely they will be united to each 
other : and true social pleasure is founded op 
unlimited confidence, congeniality of senti- 
ment and mutual esteem. The spiritless and 
crowded societiesof the world, where around 
of low and little pleasures fills the hour of en- 
tertainment, and the highest c;ratification is 
to display a pomp of dress and levity of be- 
haviour, may perhaps afford a glimpse of joy 
to light and thoughtless minds, eagerly im- 
patient to remove the weight which ever}*^ 
vacant hour accumulates. But men of rea- 
son and reflection, instead of sensible con- 
versation or rational amusement, find only a 
dull, unvaried jargon — a tiresome round of 
compliments — and turn with aversion from 
these temples of delight, or resort to them 
with coldness, dissatisfaction and disgust. 

Some may perhaps exclaim : " Thus bu- 
ried in the desert, and surrounded but by 
two or three human beings, our presence 
would only fatigue each other; we should 
want a subject for conversation.** To live a 
retired life, it does not follow that we must 
reside in the country ; the largest cities are 
by no means inimical to retirement ; and in 
such a retreat, the select band need never 
fear a dearth of ideas; the source from 
whence th«y draw their pleasures is inexhaus- 
tible : by a mutual Interchange of sentiments, 
our fund of ideas is increased* The streams 
of menul pleasures, those which of course 
all men of whatsoever condition may equally 
partake, flow from one to the other: the 
sU^am of which we have most frequently 
tasted loses neither its flavour nor its virtue, 
but frequently acquires new charms and con- 
-veys additional pleasure, the oftener it is 
tasted. The subjects of these pleasures are 
as unbounded as die reign of truth — as exten- 
siveas the world — as imlimited as the divine 
perfection. The incorporeal pleasures, there- 
fore, are much more durable than all others : 
they neither disappear with the light of the 
day, nor change with the external form of 
things, nor descend with our bodies to the 
tomb ; but continue while we exist-^accom- 
pany us under all the vicissitudes, not only 
of our mortal life, but of that which is to 
come— secure us in the darkness of the night, 
and compensate for all the miseries we are 
doomed to suffer. 

If to a few interesting associates, we add 
one friend — such a person's situation is truly 
enviable. 

'* Celestial happiness. whene*er she stoops 
To Tisit eanh, one shrine the goddess finds. 
And one aloite> to make her sweet amends 
For absent heav'n— the bosom of a friend." 

How tiresome do all the pleasures of the 
world appear, when compared with the hap- 
piness of^ a faithfrd, tender and enlightened 
friendship ! How joyfully do we slSike off" 



the shackles of society, for that high and in- 
timate connection of the soul, where our in- 
clinations are free, our feelings genuine, our 
sentiments unbiassed — where a mutual con- 
fidence of thoughts and actions, of pleasures 
and of .pains, uninterruptedly prevails ; where 
the heart is led by Joy along the path of vir- 
tue, and the mind conducted by Happiness 
into the bowers of truth ; where every thought 
is anticipated before it escapes from die lips -, 
where advice, consolation, succour, are reci- 
procally given and received in all the acci- 
dents and misfortunes of life. The soul thus 
animated by the charm of friendship, sptingi 
from its sloth and views the irradiating oeams 
of hope breaking on its repose. If the tear 
of affliction steal down the cheek of the one^ 
the other with affeaion wipes it tenderly 
«way ; the deepest sorrows of the one are 
felt with equal poignancy by the other : but 
what sorrow can resist the consolation which 
flows from an intercourse^of hearts so tender- 
ly, so intimately, so closely united I day after 
day they communicate to each other all that 
they have seen, all that they have heard, all 
that thejr feel, and every thing they know. 
Time flies before them on his swiftest [m- 
nions : the ear is never tired of the gratifica- 
cation of listening to each other's conversa- 
tion. The only misfortune of which they 
have any frar, is the greatest they can possi- 
bly experience — ^the misfortune of being se- 
parated by occasional absence, or by death. 
Since, tiierefore, internal and external tran- 
quillity is upon earth an incontestibk com- 
mencement of beatitude^ let us sometimes 
retire from the tumults of the world, and 
with the mental eye review the transactions 
of our lives — appreciate the past by its just 
value, and during the remainder of our days 
cultivate and extend the knowledge we have 
acquired. The tomb will then lose its me- 
nacing aspect , and man will look upon death 
like the closing even of a summed day. 

FOR THE B.URAL TIUTBE. 

I oft have seen at close of day» 

The «un behind the hilts sink down« 

And with his last half hidden ray. 
Burnish with gold the scenes around. 

But ne'er did this bright scene appear 
To my delighted eyes so fair. 
As when with Laura's presence Uett, 
I saw the sun sink down the west 

Oft haye I marked the moon arise, 
And spread o'er earth a silver shroud; 

And oft while wandering thrtmgh the «klti» 
Skirt with refulgent light a cloud* 

But never did her charms impart 
Such glowing rapture to my hearty 
As when with Laura. I surveyed 
The scene, as o'er the mead we strayed. 

Oft have 1 seen a lily raise 
Its lovely head to drink the dew; 

And while I looked with heedless gaze, 
I plucked it whence it grew ? 

But oft I cast it idly by, 
Nor for its fkte e*er heaved a sigh« 
Till huely on my Laura's breast 
I saw a beauteous lily plaqsd. 

Oft have I viewed the running rill. 

Admired its clear and crys»d tide^ 
Or pleased I heard h down the hill, ^ 

Or 'mid the pebbles murmuring gUdt& - 1 /> 

„,, , ^i^^ 



uf 



TllE RURAL VISITER. 



But oh ! how much its dDums are heightened ! 
And oh ! how much its beauties brightened ! 
Since I have teen m^ I^aura look 
With pleasure, on the running brook. 
With ra{iture oft my breast has glowed. 

When virtue's perfect form I saw : 
These saoed feelings heaven bestowed 
^ To keep us in its holj law. 

But ne'er did virtue seem so bnght; 
Ke*er yield to me that pure delight. 
As when her image first was ^eeo. 
,f In Laura*s soul, pure and serenQ^ 

Lanva has shed a brighter teint 

O'er nature's charms, and virtue's grace«; 
Before their beauties all seem'd faint, 

But now their evei^' feature pleases ; 

To Launi then^ach joy I owe. 
For bliss she taught my heart to know ; 
May heaven then o'er her much loved head 
Its purest, jdMMcest blessings shed. 

Then 5vho wil^ shun, or who will blame, 
Who wili not cherish in his heart 

This Unre divine, this holy flame, '^ 

That can subh wond'rous bliss impart ? 

Hail love divine ! to mortals giveh. 
The noblest, dearest gift of heaven ! 
To you all homage due 111 pay, 
Bend l^aura's heart, oh Level I pray*. 



FOm TBS RVmAlM VXSXTBK. 

THE FORSAKEN BOWER. 

Wlule Ihe rode whids of autumn howl'd thrcrO|^ 
the tall shade. 
And Hudson's white foam lash'd the echoing shore. 

Through the paths of the forest 1 pensively 8tray*4i 
From my peaceful retreat, other scenes to ezplor^«^ 

And oft I remark'd where the lovei:*% fosfi hand 
Had carv'd the dear name that he valued the most. 

And 1 saw how by time all: the traces expa«)d. 
Though by time, in his hcait th» impttuion was lost. 

The hMir^ was scattered profusely around, 
F»r venJbnre, to genius and valour assign^. 

While the sweet lowly wild-flower enamell'd the 
ground. 
And shed its soft odours abroad o» the wind^ 

But now what a scene of desertion appears. 
How withered each tree, and how finded each- flower: 

Thou fur weepmg: Naiad, O lend me thy tears. 
To moum the decaff of Teresa's lone bower. 

The flowers she planted, the garden's best pride. 
Late rang'din neat ord«r and blooming arouiMis. 

By her sadly forsaken have faded and died. 
And the vine's graceful foliage is strewed on the ground. 

Ah I where, gentle wanderer, where dost thou stray. 
From the tranquO enjoyments, the blessings of home? 

By pleasure's alluremenu incited away. 
In scenes all untried for amusement to roam. 

Forget not the charms of thy own peaceful grove. 
And l^ every passion to ramble resigned ; 

For here are the scenes that the muses best love,. 
And here the calm twilight that rests on the mind. 

From thy own prattling Naiad a lesson we learn, 
A moral though rustic yet strongly conv^'d. 

From her tranquil course our true interest discern. 
As serenely she strays throu^ her calm native shade. 

There sheherM from storms, stdl-unruffled ^nd free. 
Her pure liinnid waters unceasingly flow. 

Through the mos8-cover*d bank, by the fair spread- 
ing tree. 
And the odorous flowers on her borders that blow. 

But where she emerges and quits ^e lone sha4e, 
In the rough foaming Hudson impetuously hurl'd. 

How her fate there resembles the fair vernal miud, 
Consigned to the dangers and snares of the world. 

Then let no gay pleasure thy fancy enthnd, 
For care and inquietude often are found. 

To lurk all unseen in the maze of the ball. 
And the dartt of detraction successfully wound. 

But return, my Teresa, contented return, 
1^ thy own tranquil shades be thy wishes confin«d, 
^^There no adverse fate shall condemn thee to moum, 
Qt Qndanget thy peace like the haimts of mankind. 

MATILDA. 



SOJOURNER. 
No. VIII. 



or WHAT USE IS EXPERIENCE ? 

It is a trite but a true saying, that experi- 
ence teaches. Unhappily however for the 
mass of mankiadi, in ti^t most momentous 
concerns of life this teacher acconq>anies his 
lessons with severity ; and even this severity 
is frequently too late to beaefit the scholar. 
The stages of life once past are pas^ for- 
ever ; and whether well or ill s^pphed they 
return no more to us to be changed, either 
for the worse or the better. W? are boys 
but once, young men but once, generally we 
commence the world but once, and marry 
but once ; and still as each of these seasons 
passes, experience points out errors which 
might have been avoided by propei: delibera- 
tion. But in our eagerness to enjoy the 
fuuire, we forget to relish or improve the 
present ; and this unimproved and unenjoy- 
ed present arises to embitter the future. 
Thus passes man's life away*-Of what 2^^ 
then is experience ? Coming too late to bene- 
fit ourselves, shall we hope to lend our d^ar 
bou^t wisdom to our companions, or ti:an8- 
mit It to our heirs ?< Alas ! tirhere shall we 
find the " ear to hear, or tho-heart to under- 
staiid?*' He whom experience has taught, 
beheves ; and he whom he hias not taught, 
will bel^ivc no other teacher,:-->Go, tell the 
boy 

« - w ho under hawthorn bush, 

Sits linking cheiry stones, of plaiting rush.'* 

That hie wastes in idleness tiie season of 
learning; that early impressions are those 
which last longest. Pamt to him the dis- 
grace of manhood without knowledge, of 
old age without wisdom. Will he not laugh 
at the greybearded lecturer i and will not 
thy own heart tell thee, that he like thyself 
will learn by experience? Go^ counsel the 
sanguine youth that sighs £c»^ manhood — 
that longs to be free from his master. Tell 
him that in the state at which he now re- 
pines, he is. or niay be hc^^pier than his mas* 
ter. Tell him uiat iood and raiment are 
provided, and his work appointed without 
fore-thought of his. He suffers not 1^ his 
master's losses—lie eats at his table, but 
partakes not of his anxiety. When the toils 
of the day are over^ the repose o£ his pillow 
is not invadisd by &e plims of to-morrow. 
In vain is thy eloqjiience* He feels the pains 
of bondage, but overlooks its advantages — 
he magnifies the sweets of freedom, and the 
importance of manhood^ but leaves to expe^ 
rience to unfold its cares. Since here then, 
there is no ear to hear, wait the arrival of 
the anticipated period— wait tUl he has com- 
menced the career of life, till he has encum- 
bered himself with business, and experience 
has taught him the cares of manhood. Dis- 
appointment has- sobered him^ he begins to 
reflect — he looks back with regret upon the 
days of his service ; and wishes again for a 
master to appoint him his labour, and pro- 
vide for his accommodation. Surely now 
he will Ibten to the voice of instruction, and 
change his plati ere it be too late. Speak to 
hjm tiien while he has <' an ear to hear, and 



a heart to tmderstand.^' Inform him how he 
may yet be happy— he is yet single, unen- 
cumbered with a fiunily, unshackled with 
debt ; his constitution is sound, and hSi mind 
composed. It is ^not too late to dispose of 
his effects and become a hireling'^ In this 
state are united the sweets of freedom, and 
the advantages of bondage. Economy, with 
moderate indusuy, will secure him *^ food 
and raiment,^' and allow him leisure for the 
improvement of hb mind, and die indul> 
gence of the social affections. If he has but 
littie, he needs but litde, and enjoys it alL 
He ^^ sits under hid own vine, and under hb 
own fi^ tree, and no man h dble to make him 
afraid/' War, fiunine and pestik^ice sheatfi 
their terrors to him, he carries his little aO 
about him, and shifts his place like a bird of 
passage ; <pr«ry man's house is his home— 
th<? whole world is his country-^^he fear of 
death a^cte him but singly-^hb life bha^ 
bifts but one body* Befnend him then, tiiou 
man of experience ; wata him ta avoid the 
cares of a family, and to leave to the rich 
t^e peophng of the world! ! Just as it may 
seem, the caution is too Lite. Already has 
h^ bartered liberty for love -y and wild as h 
may appear, be has resolved in hia ewB 
mind, mat the smiles of hia wife and the 
tenderness of her affection, will make amends 
for aU he may part with to ob^n her. Yet 
blame nfit rashly the desperate step^ He who 
takes unto himself a wife b fiiUSUing the 
command of his Maker; and acting agree* 
ably to the law of. his nature-«<-he becomes a 
member of the gveat commonwealdi <tf mai^ 
and gives hb bead for his conduct thnHigh 
life<ii*-dn this maintenance of his famifyi b 
the education of hb children, he finds mo- 
tives for the promotion of die virtue and 
prosperity of the society with which he is 
encompass^ May the maid he has chosen 
be kind to bis wishes, may the wife of hb 
bosom be the friend of hh peace / May 
the Uessings of Heaven attend h» undertake 
'^Kj give him comfort i& Ufe and hope b 
death! 



VOR THE m'UBi^I. VISXTm|. 

A DREAM. 

Lately, as I sunk to rest 
In the gentle arms of aleej^,. 

Fairy beings round me prest, 
And their revels 'gan to keep. 

First to me they pay their court- 
Then each other kindly greeting, 

J-oin the sylphic airy sport- 
Now advancing— now retreating. 

Next they raise the mazy dance, 
' Rapid as electric speed ; 
Right and left they wheel askance, 
Beck'ning o'er the flowery mea4* 

Borne through air on Luna's beam^ 
Lo ! I follow as they fly ; 

Now we cross the crystal stveara. 
And the sylvan haunt espy. 

In a jnuden's calm retreat 
UiMiemeath a poplar sliai 

Natare's velvet for her teat-* 
Delia sat ia smiles array'd. 

Soon the sylphs on her aligk^pn 
Smiling, to her breast ntire— 

TThey were but her virtues bright, 
Drest in fancy's rich atttre.i 



Digitized by 



_ _ Jgle 



th£ rural visiter. 



133 



At her feet with suppliant sigha 
I would kncal her hand to kiss— 
. Till a welcome from her eyes 
Bade me rise to higher bliss. 

^^ytiif'^—^ann in arm we walk 
O'er the garden's gay parade ; 

Of the future fondly talk— 
And the bliss for lovers made. 

• ••••• 

Soon the Iwrid lightnings flash- 
Thunder rolls athwart the sky- 
Hail and i;ain with rudest crash 
Bade us to a shelter fly.- 

Delia sunk upon my breast-^ ^ 
Terror mark'd her speaking eye i 

Terror every look exprest— 
And her bosom heav'd a si^. 

Kear ua stood a palace hright-- 
Soon we reached th' inviting doo^- 
. . When a monster struck our sight, 
Striding o'er the marble floor. 

With gorgon terrors clad, in spectred pride- 
Eyes flashing fire, and j?iws extended wide 
The tnonster now advanc' d a dart he sped, 
And tt«mbCT^ JMm with the silent dead $-r 

TUen sunk in empty air— the palace too 
Like summer mcteots vanished from the view:^^ 
Wild horror chilPd my blood, yet still I prest 
The form of Delia to my beating breast. 

Aghast I look'd upon her olay«cold face, 
And gave a warm— a parting-— last embra ce ^ i r 
A deep drawn sigh returning life exprest^ 
And the l^nt beiUrt beat feebly in her breast. 

Now her eyes in beauty's might 
Open'd to the cheerful light, 
And dame nature smil'd serene 
0*er the beauties of the scene. 

Raptttr*d— now again we widk 
O'er the garden's gay parade— 

Of the future fondly talk. 

And the bliss for lovers made :— 

Till chanticleer proclaimed approaching light* 
Anil the bright vision faded from my sight. 

L£AND£a, 



OF ESSAY WRITING. 

The elegant part of mankind, who are not 
immersed in mere animal life, but employ 
themselves in the operations of the mind, 
may be divided into the learned ^ndconoers' 
stbte. The learned are such as have chosen 
for their portion the higher and more diffi- 
cult operations of the mind, which require 
leisure and solitude, and cannot be brought 
to perfection without long preparation an4 
severe labour. The conversible world, join 
to a sociable disposition and a taste for 
pleasure, an inclination for the easier and 
more gende exercises of the understanding ^ 
for obvious reflections on human affairs, and 
the duties of common life, and for observa- 
tion of the blemishes or perfections of the 
particular objects that surround them. Such 
subjects of thought furnish not sufficient 
employment in solitude, but require the 
company and conversation of our fellow 
creatures, to render them a proper exercise 
for the mind ; and this brings mankind to- 
ffether in societj^ where every one displays 
his thoughts and observations in die best 
saanner he is able, and mutually give& and 
receives information, as well as pleasure. 

The separation of the learned from the 
conversible world seems to have been the 
great 4efect of the last age, and must have 
had a very bad influence both on books an 



company: for what possibility is there of 
finding topics of conversation fit for the 
entertainment of rational creatures, without 
having recourse sometimes to history, poe- 
try, politics, and the more obvious princi- 
ples, at least, of philosophy ? Must our 
whole discourse be a continued series of 
gossipping stories and idle remarks ? Must 
die mind never rise higher, but be perpetu- 
ally 

Stunn*d and worn out with endless .chat» 

Of Will did this, and Nan did that ? 

This would be to render the time spent in 
company the most unentertaining, as well 
as the most unprofitable part of our lives. 
On die other hand, learning 'has been as 
great a loser by being slnit up in colleges 
and cells, and secluded from die workl and 
good company. By that means every part 
of what we call belles lettres became to^y 
barbarous, being cultivated by men without 
any taste for life or manners, and without 
that liberty and facility of thought and ex- 
pression which can only be acquired by con- 
versatioo* Eyen philosophy went to wreck 
by this moping recluse method of study, 
and became as chimerical in her conclusions, 
as she was unintelligible in her style and 
manner of delivery : and indeed, what could 
be expected from men who never consulted 
experience in any of their reasonings, or 
who never searched for that experience, 
where alone it is Xo be found, in common 
life and conversation ? 

It is with great pleasure I observe, that 
men of letters in this age, have lost in a 
measure, that shj^ess and bashfulness of 
temper which kept diem at a distance from 
mankind; and at the same time, that men 
of the world are proud of borrowing from 
books their most agreeable topics of conver- 
sation. It is to be hoped that this league 
between the learned and conversible worlds, 
which is so happSy begun, will be still far- 
ther improved to their mutual ^advantage ; 
and to that end, I know nothing mor^ ^- 
vantageous than such essays as those with 
which I endeavour to entertain the public* 
In this view I cannot but consider myself as 
a kind of resident, or ambassador from the 
dominions of learning to those of conversa- 
tion, and shall t&ink it my constant duty to 
promote a good correspondence betwixt these 
two states, which have so ^at a dependence 
on each other* I shall give intelligence to 
the learned of whatever passes in company, 
and shall endeavour to import into company 
whatever commodities I find in niy native 
country, proper for their use and entertain- 
ment* The balance of trade we need not be 
jealous of, nor will there be any difficulty to 
preserve it on both sides. The materials of 
this copAmerce must chiefly be furnished by 
copversation and common life ; the manu- 
facturing of them alone belongs to learning. 
As it would be an unpardonabU negli- 
gence in an ambassador, not to pay hid re- 
spects to die sovereign of die state where 
ne is commissioned to reside ; so it would 
be altogether inexcusable in me not to ad- 
dress myself with a particidav respect to the 
fair sex, who are the sovereigns of the 
empire of conversation. I approach them 



with reverence ; and ^ere not rty country- 
men, the learned, a stubborn independent 
race of mortals, extremely jeaknis of their 
liberty, and unaccustomed to subjection ; I 
should resign into their fiair hands, the 
sovereign authority over the republic of let- 
ters. As the case stands, my commission 
extends no farther than to desire a league, 
offensive and defensive, against our common 
enemies; against the enemies of reason and 
beauty, people of dull heads and cold hearts. 
From jthis moment let us pursue them with 
the severest vengeance : let no quarter t)e 
given, but to those of sound understandings 
and delicate affections ; and these characters, 
it is to be presumed, we shall always find 
i^senarablef 

To be serious, and to quit the allusion 
before it be worn thread-bare; I am of opi- 
nion that women, that is, women of sense 
and education, (for to such alone I address 
myself) are much better judges of all polite 
writing than nlen of the same degree of un- 
derstanding ; and that it is a vain panic, if 
they be so far terrified with the common 
ridicule that is levelled against learned la- 
dies, as utterly to abandon every kind of 
books and study to our sex. Let the dread 
of that ridicule have no other effect than to 
make them conceal their knowledge before 
fools, who are not worthy of it, nor of them. 
Such will still presume upon the vain tide of 
the male sex to affect a superiority above 
diem; but my fairreaders may be assured, that 
all men of. sense who know the world, have a 
great deference for their judgment of such 
books as lie within the compass of their 
knowledge ; and repose more confidence in 
the delicacy of their taste, though unguided 
by rules, than in all t]^e dull labours of pe- 
dants and commentators. Ip a neighbour- 
ing nation, equally famous for good taste 
and for gaUantry, the laaies are, in a manner 
the sovereigns of the learned world, as well 
as of die conversible ; and no polite writer 
pretends to venture before the public, with- 
out the approbation of some celebrated 
judges of that sex. Their verdict is indeed, 
sometimes complained of; and in particular, 
I find that the admirers of Corneille, to 
save that great poet's honour upon the asr 
cendant that Racine began to take over him; 
always ssud, that it was not to be ei^pected, 
that so old a man could dispute the prize be- 
fore such judges, with so young a man as his 
rivalf But this observation has been foimd 
unjust, since posterity seems to have ratified 
the verdict (^ that tribtmal : and Racine, 
though dead, is still the faxourite of the fair 
sex, as well as of the best judges among the 



men. 



There is only one subject of which I am 
apt to distrust the judgment of females : and 
that is, concerning books of gallantry an4 
devotion, which they commonly affect as 
high flown as possible ; and most of them 
seem more delighted with the warmth, than 
with the justi>ess of the passion. I mention 
gallantry and devotion as the saine subject, 
because, in reality, they become the same 
when treated in this manner ; and we may 
observe, that they both depend upon th^ 
verj^ same complexion. As die fair sex have 
a great share of the tender and amorow^ 

Dipitized by ^^^^ 



t34 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



disposition, it perverts their judgment on 
this occasion, and makes them be easily af- 
fected, even by what has no propriety in the 
expression on nature in the sentiment. Mr.. 
Addison'Jj elegant discourses on religion 
have no relish with them, in comparison of 
books of mystic devotion: and Otway^s Tra- 
gedies are' rejected for the rakes of Mr. 
Dryden.- 

Would the ladies correct their fidse taste 
in this partic\i!ar, let them accustom them- 
selves a little more to books of all kinds ; let 
them give encouragement to men of sense 
and knowledge to frequent their company j 
and finally, let them concur heartily in that 
union I have projected betwixt the learned 
and converaible ^irorlds. They may, perhaps, 
meet with more complausance from Aeir 
usual followers than from men of learning ;. 
biit they cannot reasonably expect so sincere 
an affection: and, I hope, they will never 
be guilty of so wrong a choice, as to sacrifice 
tlie substance for tht: shadow*. 

HUjWE. 



I90R THE RURAL VISITER. 



of weight. 

MsLTOSr. 



Mr. Editor^ 



Though I occasionally pua myself, I have 
read widi ccmsiderable pleasure Uie elaborate 
treatise of your ingenious correspondent, ia 
whichhis principal obj.ect seems to be to bring 
this custom into disrepute. I must confess that 
though in some points I thought it bore hard 
upon me, yet few relished the joke, or enjoy- 
ed the piece more than myself.' This was 
produced by the gendemanly and polite man- 
ner in which your correspondent conducted 
it. With the most perlect good humour, 
and with sentiments of esteem for Mr. W, 
permit me to speak a few words in de&nce 
of punning.^ I mean tliis not merely for the 
author of that piece ; for unless I am greatlv 
mistaken he cun admire and relish a pun al- 
ready, and is one of those eccentric wights 
who cut their wit upon those points of meir 
own characters which may afford ground for 
it, in preference to joking upon a neighbour. 

Most of the actionsof men must be trifling: 
happiness, howeyer, is the object in view, 
whatever we maybe busied about; and it 
ha9 long since been acknowledged that the 
happiness, and misery of men depend more 
upon many things apparently of small conse- 
quence than on affairs of more importance. 
Great and laborious undertakings would, 
were no leisure moments interposed, weary 
the mind, and perhaps ere long totally de- 
stroy it. Thus even the hardest students 
occasionally indulge themselves in recreation, 
and unbend themselves, in order to increase 
their ability to undergo fatigue. Nothing 
contributes socmcr, or more effectually to 
restore the mind to its wonted energies than 
conversution \ and more especially tiiat kind 
of conversation where wit smd pleasanty pre- 
vail. He who finds fault then with men for 
indulging in this kind of amusement, must 
change our system and the laws of our nature, 
' :•(? lie can expect that men wiU alter tlieir 



conduct. Without entering into a discussion 1 
of the questions, whether punning is not too 
trifling to merit the consideration of men of 
sense,, or whether more entertaining and 
more useful means of arriving at the same 
end might not be substituted; tor these ques- 
tions must depend on the fondness or dislike 
that every indhadual has for die amusement 
in question— -I will merely gbserve on them, 
that it appears to me that nothing which can 
affi>rd innocent amusement, noming which 
caa create a sn^ile without doing the least in- 
jury, or inflicting the least pain, is imworthy 
of the most learned and exaked of men. If 
I am incorrect in this opinion, the life of a 
philosopher or great man woidd never suit 
me : and! will further remark on the second 
question, that it is the business of those who 
are inimical to punning to find us a substitute, 
before .they can reasonably blame our adhe* 
ring to the one of which we are possessed : 
we are satisfied, as thehedge^iog said ia 
the fable, let those who are not content do 
what they think best. Every one must ac- 
knowledge th^t there is no criminsdity in 
making a pun, and they must likewise agree 
that punning does afford amusement to ma- 
ay. On what grounds then can we be con- 
demned, or the practice abused t Those 
whose minds have not been cast in diat 
mould which may qualify diem for amuse- 
ment, have noF reason to value themselves 
upon their superiori^ oVer those who can 
derive an^ gratification, however trifling, 
from it : mdeed, they have infinitely more 
reason to envy them ; for if happiness is de- 
sirable to men, and amusement wordiy of 
them, he who possesses the nK>8t numerous 
sources of innocent amusement, and knows 
how to enjoy them, is certainly hs^pier than 
he who has few. 

But not only does innocent amusement 
possess an immediate and temi>orary power 
of contributing to our^s^piiiess, but its ef- 
fects are extensive and permanent. He who 
: can derive gratification and pleasure from 
every circiunstance, and whose mind with a 
power superior to that of the hypodietical 
philosopher's stone, can turn every object in- 
to a source of enjoyment, is happy even when 
he has nothing to excite him ; nia disposition 
is sweetened, bis temper smoothed, and he 
is not only in a state of greater felicity, but 
he is a more virtuous man. His heart be- 
comes more open and refined, and his life 
passes away in a calm sunshine of happiness ; 
suid he is less exposed to any lasting influence 
from the casus^es and accidents to which 
we are all subject. If punning therefore be 
an innocent amusement, it deserves neither 
censure nor contempt, but is entitled at least 
to toleration. I have myself seen a company 
dull and stupid, overcome with enmn^ break 
out into good humour and continue engaged 
in entertainine conversation fi^r hours, on 
being roused from their torpor by the potent 
: influence of a good pun. 

I mig^t, Mr. Editw, fill the remainder of 
my paper with the nancies of those who have 
evinced their abiEties ia this department of 
genius ; and in the number might be found 
noiany, whose authority would be suflkient to 
settle any disputed points— men whose mere 



word would almost suffice to " make the 
worse appear the better reason:'' il will, 
however, merely mention a few. Cicero, 
Milton, Pope, Arhuthnot, Swift, IShakes- 
peare, and even Dr. Johnson rwhoiiaB rank- 
ed it as the lowest kjnd of wit) have gll pun- 
ned. I mightshew the superiority of punning 
over every other kind of Mfit in many parti- 
culars, and give you a number of puns which 
would please the judges of this question so 
much, if they ^e not xnere sto^s apd stones, 
that they would pve their decision in our 
favour by acclamation* But I haye, X trust,, 
said sufficient to convince the reaaon^widiout 
attempting to excite the feelings, as a* lawyer 
would express himself. 

A «msf«R. 



THE NEW-JEHSEY BIBLE SOCIETY. 
No. 11. 

Constitution ^ftl^ New^^ersey BibfeSficietyy 
asawyfmM and adofitd at Pfinoii^t^ Oc- 
toberSLd^ 1»10. 

I. This Society sh^ll be distbguished hy 
the name pf the ** Nev-Jeb-i^^T W9W SO' 

CIETY.^' 

II. To constitute any person a member of 
this society, it shall be necessary that at 
the time of hecpmtng such, he or she shall 
pay into the funds t»f diis sogiety the sum of 
three dollars^ and agree to pay annually the 
sum of one dolAxr* Such persons as subscribe 
and pay the sum pf twenty-five dolkfts^ or 
more, shall be considered as members for 
life, without ^y further contribution. 

III. That the ^^embers of 6u8 Seekty 
meet annually at such place as the managers 
shall direct, on the last Tuesday in August, 
at eleven o'clock in the forenoon, unless other- 
wise ordered and directed by die Board of 
Manager? j in which case, at least one mo^ith's 
notice thereof shall be given in two newapa- 

5ers, the one in East, the other in West 
ersey ; at which meeting the members of 
the Society shall proceed to elect twenty" 
three managers, to conduct the business of 
this institution for the year ensuing. It shall 
also be the duty of the members of the Soci- 
ety, at their annual meetings, by themselves, 
or* by the managers whom tney shall appoint, 
to concert measures for obtaining funds, and 
procuring Bibles and Testaments for gratui- 
tous distribution among the poor, and to en;^ 
such general laws and orders, as may from 
time to time appear necessarj' to promote and 
carry into effect the gi-eat designs of this in- 
stitution. 

rV. It shall be the duty of the managers, 
as soon after their election as they conveni- 
ently can, to choose from their own nufiaber 
a President J Jour Vtce-PresidentSy and a cor^ 
responding Secretary. They shall at the same 
time choose, but not fix)m their own niunber, 
a Treasurer 2JiA a Recording Secretary : the 
latter jof whom shall keep a regular record of 
the proceedings of the Board of Managers, 
and shall have the custody ajid, charge of their 
books and papers. 

V. That for the transaction of business, 
nine Managers shall be a Board. Provided, 



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the meeting be held at the time and place' 
previously appointed according to the consti- 
tution. And provided abo, that die Presi- 
dent, or, in case of his^ absense, either of the 
Vice-Presidanta, be one pf the Board. 

VI. The Board of Managers ahdl meet 
at l^ast once in every six months, but may be . 
calle4 together by the'President, whenever he 
aball think, it expedient, <»: when requested 
^ do so by any four of the Maaag^frs. It 
shall be the duty of the Board to co-operate 
with other Bible Societies established > in the 
United States, ordscfwhere-j to publish an- 
Burfly^MM^connt of their recei|H8~«ndc:S^p!^ 
ditures, U)gether with such other information 
relative to the general object of the Society 

they may consider interesting ^md useful, 



as 



aad to make such byvlaw8rtt8«maybe iftdesga- 
ry fbr managing the concerns of «aidSo<iiety. 
VIL That in case the ofiice 6f President 
shall become vacant by death or otherwise,; 
or he shall be unable to auend iha^BoaM of 
Managers, the duties of his office shall de- 
volve .on the first Vice-tPrfcsident, And in 
case of his absence, then 'these duties shall 
devolve on the Bext senior Vioe-Preaidedt, 
who may he present at Ae ^eb^g <)f the 
Board* 

VIII. All orders for money on die Trea- 
surer shdM be signed by the President, or, Jn i 
his. absence, then by the person on whom his i 
duties -shall devolve, which orders sli^l be { 
carefully registered in a book J&eptibr that; 
purpose by the Recording S^ecretary. 

IX. That it shall be the duty of the Trea- 
surer to keep all monies and tkher propexiy i 
J>elan£^g to theSociety^ with their securitiies 
and vouchers, to state the accoimts of tbe re- 
ceipts and expenditures of the Society in a 
book to be provided by him for that purpose, 
and lay the same, or a true copy _6f k, before 
the Society, at every annual meetmg, and be- 
fore the Board of Managers, whenever they 
shaU require it, and to observe the orders and 
directions of the said Board. 

X. That before the Treasurer enters on the 
duties pf his office, he shall give bond to the 
President of the Board of Managers in the 
sum of one thousand dollars, conditioned for 
the faithful performance of the duties of his 
oflke, as long as he shall continue therein, 
and for the payment and ddivery of all mo- 
nies, and otner property, books, and vouch- 
ers, belonging to the Society, in his hands, 
to the order of the Society, or of the Boafd 
of Managers, or to his successor in office* 

XL That no compensation be allowed, mi- 
less in extraordinary cases, to- any Manager, 
or to any officer employed by the Board, ibr 
personal services ; and where it is thought 
necessary to indemnify individuals for any 
ume, skill, or labour, ^ey may devote to d^ 
concerns of the institution, or for any expanse 
incurred in behalf of the same, the utmost 
economy is enjoined and expected. 

. XII. That no alteration shall be made ih 
the foregoing Constitution, unless by the vote 
of at least two thirds of the Board of Mana- 
gers, and unless the same be afterwards ap- 
proved by a majority of the members of this 

Society, present at the next annual meeting 

after th^ said alteration shall have been voted 

by the board of Managers. 



NeW'Bfuns' 
xuicL 



Managers of the New-Jersey Bible Society ^ 
for the present year. 

Rev. Simon Wilmur, Sweedesborough. 
Elias Boudinot, L. L, D. ") 
Charles H. Wharton, D. D. l Burlington. 
Joshua M.Wallace, Esq. J 
Joseph Bloomfield, Esq. Cover* "J ^ .- ^ 
noroftheStateof New-Jersey, J ^'•^^^• 
Rev. Joseph Riie, 'JSopewelL \ 
Rev. Isaac V. Brown, Maidenhead. 
Ifevid Bishop, Esq. AmweflL 
Samuel S. Smith, D. D. President! p^i^^^e- 

ofthe College of New- Jersey, > ^.„ 
Samuel Bayard, Esq. j ^ • 

Rev. David Comfort, -Kihgsion. 
John Woodhull, D. D. Freehold. 
Rev. George S. Woodhull, Cr anbury.^ 
John H. Livingston, D. D. 

artd S. T. P. in '€lueeii'si 

College, 
Joseph Clark, D. D. 
Andn^v Kiricpatrkk, psq. 

Chief Justice dfihe State 

of New-Jersey, _ 

Rev. Peter Stefddiford, Reading'T&um. 
Rtv. Robert Finlay, 'Bttskirig-Ridge. 

Mrv William Steele, Springfield. 
Rev. James Richards, ' 1 ;'r l 
\^liam Wallace, Esq.j ^^^^'*^- 

Officef^ cf the- Society. 

ElhiS Boudmot, L. t. D. Prestdefit. 
Joseph Blo6mfietd. Esq. 1 First nte- 

Governor of the State, J President* 
John H. LivingsCon, D. D. Second Vic^" 

President. 
Samuel S. Smith; D. t). third Vtce-Presi' 

denti ... 
Rev. James Richards, Fourth Vtce- President y 
Ssimufel Bayard^ Ebq. Corresponding Secri- 

tary. 
t)n John Vantleve, Recording Secrttary. 
John Neilson, Esq. Treasurer. 

The following Resplutions were adopted by 
the Boafd of Maindgers^ at their last 
meeting, vn. 

Resohedy That it be^ and is hereby,, ear- 
nesdy recommt^ded to the ministers of the 
gospel of every denomitiation iri this ^a(te, 
annually to make a collection in their respec- 
tive congregations, for the use of t&e New- 
Jersey Bible Societv, and to tr^msmit the 
amount t6 the Treasurer 6T said Society. 

Resolved, That at least five ^entlemeii of 
character and integrity, but of various reli- 
gious denominatioris, where they can with 
propriety be obtained, be appointed in each 
county of the state, as corresponding agents 
of this board. The first named of these agents^ 
shall be required to convene the first meeting" 
in each county. Three of the number so ap- 
pointed shall be considered a quorum to do 
business. They are to choose one firom among 
. themselvifcs to act as Chairman, who shall have 
power to call dicm together, and preside at 
^ their meetings. Their duty shall be, to pro- 
cure subscriptions and donations for the use 
. of tlie Society, in such ro^^poer as they, or a 
majority of them^ may thu)ls proper j to col-^ 



lect and forward the amount of the same, 
with the names of the subscribers, to the 
President, Treasurer, |or Corresponding Se- 
cretly ; to report an account of their pro- 
ceedings annually to the Board of Managers, 
together with such other information on the 
great concerns of the Society as they may 
think proper. Their duty will be further, 
to attend to the distribution of Bibles and 
Testamems,with which they may be furnish- 
ed by Ae Board ; to observe such rules apd 
regulations as may be given to them from 
time to time, and to attend the meetings of 
this Board, whenever they, or eljher of them 
shdl think proper, whe^ he or they may give 
their opinions on any matters under consid- 
eration of the Board. 



AGRICULTURAL. 

Lime, as a manure, is well worth the at- 
tention of every farmer residing on navigable 
waters, as well from its cheapness and th^ 
fecility of procuring it, as from its powerfid 
effects on various kinds of soiL It is known 
that lime continues '%o attract moisture for 
manymonths from die air on tlie e;arth, yrhich 
it ckprives of its carbonic acid, and then suf- 
fers it to exhale again, as is seen on the plais- 
tered walls of new houses. On this account 
it must be advantageous when mixed with 
dry or sandy soils, as it attracts moisture 
from the air above or from the earth beneath, 
and tlus moisture is then absorbed by the 
lymphatics of the roots of vegetables. Clays 
are rendered less cohesive by mixing lime 
with them, which thus opens an easy access 
to the vegetable fibres. A mixture of lime 
with the clay, destroys its superabundance 
of acid, if such ensts \ and by uniting with 
it,converts it into gypsum or alabaster. Fresh 
lime destroys worms and other insects, with 
which it happens to come in contact, and 
with whish almost every soil abounds. Wheat 
produced from lands weU limed, is thinner 
skinned and makes better flour, owing to its 
containing more starch and less mucilage. 

ilm. D. Ad, 



rOR THB RURAL VISITBR. 

TO MISS JEfNJIY DRAYTON. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



And Mt not hew faulty fix'd vrai the dart 

Till too much for his Jbead was the woond in his heart* 

Now frantic he raves, and onceasinr con^)lains 

Of the soft cruel sex who occasion*d his pains ; 

Hb munnars pathetic, and wild phrensied eye. 

Claims a tribuiivt tear, and eon^atsionate sig^h, 

Midst other strange whims of his sad situation. 

He fancies himself Mr. Imham's relation, 

Whovainly has searbh'd tOl its branches to see 

The name in hk genealogical tree. 

Take warning, desr Consin, from Stapleton'a fain. 

Nor let his sad gtory be mentioned in vain. 

The virtues beware that adorn Mr. C. 

-Or Ctipid may level an arrow tt thee. 

And teU me if lievis continue to da«h on 

A bright shining star in the circles of fashion t 

Give all the narration, minutely and tme 

And receive for the present a parting adieU' 

3ortington, Jan. 181t MARY. 



Ae following anecdote was sent by a youngiady to 
her lover, whose name was Nott, a few weeks be- 
fore their marriage.— The nuptial knot was fastened 
toon after the discerning lovor decyphered its im- 

Why urge dear sir a bashful maid 

To change her single lot ? 
When well you know I've often sAid 

In troth 1 love you, Nott. 

For all your pain I do, Nott, care. 

And trust me, on my life. 
Though you had millions, I declare 
1 would, Nott, be yonr wife. 

BLOSiA. 



. ANECDOTE. 

A very ignorant woman, who seldom at- 
tended divine service, one day happened to 
go to church, when she heard a sermon frdm 
Luke xiii. 3. ** Except ye repent ye shall all 
likewise perish.'* At her return, mom^ of 
her neighbours enquired of her, what Ivas 
die minister's text ? — ^ Oh, la !** she ex- 
claimed, ** a dreadful — dreadful text — ex- 
cept we pay our rent we shall all be turned 
out of the parish /" 

Two cardinals, of very mean intellect, 
finding fault with Raf^ael's pictures of St. 
Peter stad St. Paul, asserted, that there was 
too much redm the face of the saints. "They 
are only bkiihing (replied the painter) at the 
present Tvretched government of the church.^ 

INTELUGENCE. 

YOMicjr. 

A letter from Lisbon, ^i^cei^^ by the London 
Plucket arrived at Bitltimore) dated Dec 5, eays :— 
•* Massena's army* has taken up a strong position on 
the plains of Santarem and Tomare, a^t 15 or 16 
leagues from Lisbon, and consists of about 45,000 
men.— The allies amount to double that. number, and 
I have heard it said by English officers, that it is im- 
possible for him to get out of Portugal. 8ilviera*s 
army is in his rear, and the English in sight of him 
in front All communication with the interior cut bff, 
and the rotfds rendered impassable for either man or 
beasu The allies are receiving reinforcements d^ly 
of Britbh and Spanish troops, while the French are 
losing fost by sickness and t&sertion. 

' OS 

Madame de Stael has lately written a work, which 
has been suppressed, and the lady ordered out of 
France.' She intends to seek an asylum in the Uni^ 
Statei. 

The Emperar of Russia. 

P^omdataet HMcItland, ^wi, 5. 
The facts contained in the following statement, we 
believe to be substantially correct, having gathered 
l|iem from vsriou^ respectable tfoufo^s. • 



A singular circumstance took place in St. Peters. 
burg, Russia, a short time since. While the ship Pre- 
sklent Adanu. Capt. Field lay in that port, there hap- 
pened to be. a grand gala day ; on which occasion, a 
black man named Claude, (a shrewd, capable fellow 
belonging to this town,} got liberty from Capt Fiejd 
to go up to Petersburg to see the fun. (le wa^ yron- 
derously staring at the magnificence of the procession 
as it passed, when the Emperor of all the Russias, in 
hb state carriage, appeared. No sooner d^ his impe- 
rial majesty get sight of onr hero, than he alighted 
from hb carnage, and taking Claude affectionately by 
the hand, carefully examined his Jetty plus and wooUy 
head, vrith great seeming satisfawction. Having sn$- 
ciently gratified his curiosity, after asking Claude to 
•what ship he belonged, he returned to his carriage. 
The next day the admiral of the port, with a royal 
gtiard, went on board the President Adams, and took 
possession of Claude for his majesty. He was taken 
to the royal palace, arrayed in a gold lace livery, and 
a high station assigned him in the imperial household. 
HaWng mentioned that lie had a Btmily in this coun- 
try, the emperor applic^d to our minister, who has ac- 
cordingly written to Wm. Grs^y, Esq. of Boston, re- 
questing him io forward Claude's wife (Phillis) and 
children to Russia. Mr. Gray has informed PhilUs, 
who lives in this town, that she shall be well accom- 
modated in a ship of his which sails next month} but 
we learn she has declined going, at the same time de- 
claring that she prefers living in a free country. Claude, 
we understand, is well satisfied with his situation, and 
wishes bis fiatmily to join him. The cause of the em- 
peror's strange partiality for him can be accounted for 
in no other way, than by supposing that he never saw 
a negro before. We understand, he has signified 
(through Mr. Adams) to the owners of the ship, his 
willingness to indemnify them for any damage they 
may have sustained, vfL ponsequence of the detention 
of Claude. i^feewV. 



J»OMBSTie. 

Ambhican VtRBTARDa— We learn, that at€w}t- 
zeriand^ in the Indiana Territory, the JS wiss emigrants 
have made, during the last season, nearly three thou- 
sand gallons of wine*-*— Time, however, is necessary 
to brmg their vineyards, as well as their wine, to any 
degree of perfection. 

Since they purchased* of the United States, the land 
which they now possess, some of the company return* 
ed to their native country, to bring from thence the 
remainder of their property, and a greater variety of 
vineslips; but, owing to the peculiar situation of that 
country, they, as yet, have not been able to accom- 
plish their return, which has very much retarded that 
rapid cultivation of the grape, which wouki otherwise^ 
have taken place. 

The attention which, we understand, they habitu- 
ally bestow upon their vineyards, will render them 
more and more important with each succeeding year, 
and ei^ long will enable them to 8u|^ly a great portion 
of the Western country vrith wine. ' 

James Ca]dwell» opposite to Ffnladelphia, in Jer- 
sey, who purchased so laigdy of Merinos, at the sales 
in Philadelphia this fall, had 44 of the best blooded 
destroyed by dogs a few nights since, valued we esti- 
mate at S( 300 per head. This surely affords a lesson 
sufficiently impresdve to our law makers* Our legis- 
lature is now in session, and several applications 
have already been made to that body for a law to 
guard this kind of unprotected property with but little 
effect. In one solitary night to have a devasution 
committed by a worthless race of animab, to the 
^unount of % 12^000 calls for the serious attention nf 
every reflecting mind.— ITatc^&man. 



(j;;J"The Editor takes the liberty of send- 
ing this and our last weeks's paper to a 
number of his particular Friends southward ; 
it being the only method of which he can 
avail himself, to invite their patronage. 
Their names to his list will, on several con- 
siderations, be grateful to his feelings, and 
he engages to perfect their sets if they will 
favour him with their subscription to die 
gendeman named as agent in their respective 
neighbourhoods* 



TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

ttj" We regret thatnn our last we omitted attaching 
JUH, to the name of Joseph WctheriH. son of Isaac 
Wetherill, in bis notice as an insolvent debtor. 

The " History of Alvira" is received; but we dis- 
approve of puUishing the prefatory matter ; should 
he hear nothing from the author, the Editor propoaea. 
shortly to give a nunober, commencing with iht bit^ 
tory. 

A piece has been handed us from E. X. O. <a art- 
final i which, unfortunately for her, we prev>ously 
had in our possession. 

Monitor, and " Poor Dorothy," have come to hand; 
it would however seem useless to notice the latter ; 
for by hex own account, she's dead, 

(jQ* The folloxmng persons^ agents for 
the Rural Visiter^ are author'tzed to receive 
subscriptions and give receipts on behalf of 
the Editor: James P. Parke^ Bookseller^ No. 
TS^ Chesnut St. Philadelphia; &ira Sargeantj 
comer of Broadway cmd Wall Street ^ New- 
Tor k; Richard AL Cooper y Camden; David 
C Woody Woodbury; Thomas Redmany jun. 
Haddonfield: Samuel Coley or Gilbert Pdge^ 
Moorestown; Alexander Shirassy Mount- 
Holly; Isaac Carlisle^ New^Mlls; Charles 
Lawrencey Bordentown ; M. isf jf. Simmonsy 
Chesterfield; Daniel Le^hy AUentown; John 
Handleuy Cranberry; James Oramy Trenton; 
S.Moffotdy Princeton; Bernard Smithy N. 
Brunsmck; Simeon Drakcy Amboyj James 
Jacksony Woodbridge; Richard Marshy Rah- 
way; James Chapman, Elizabeth-Torvn ; 
Matthias Dayy Newark; Joseph Bring- 
hursty Wilmingtony f-DeLJ Robert S. Smithy 
Christianna ; Rev. John £. Latta^ Newcas^ 
tie; John Barrett y Esq. Dover: Thomas 
Wemwrighty Camden; David Payntery Lew- 
istown; Gatiaudette Oliver y Milford; Wm. 
H. WeUsy Esq. Dc^shorough. Izak.Proc^ 
tery Baltimore J (Maryland) ; Geo. MitcheUy 
^liton; Ambrose WhitCy Snowhill; Jojnes 
jLColknSy Poplartown and Berlin, yoseph 
MilUgany Georgetovmy D. C. Richard Utle^ 
Alex. Caleb Bonsaly Norfolky Virg. ; PhtHp 
Fistery Richmond; E. G. BlaJkcy Petersburg; 
R. Wilsony Fredericksburg; T. BruncSgCy 
Dumfries ; Cropper and Bundicky Acco- 
mack; Dr. Parker y Northampton ,\ Hender- 
son and Colcy Williamsburg ; Robert Jour- 
dony Suffolk. Postmaster y Windsor y N. Caro^ 
Una ; Jos. B. Hintoriy Washington ; John 
Harvey y Newbem ; Rev.. Jesse Jennetty 
Wilmington; N. Bransony Fayetteville. Rev.. 
S. Hallingy Georgetowny S. Carolina; Dan. 
Lathamyjun. Charleston. Many of these per- 
son9 can also forward communications for 
the Rural Visiter safely and free of expense 

NOTICE , 

Is hereby given that the Subscriber^ insolvent debtor, 
confined within the limits of the prist^n of the County 
of Burlington on Executions for deb^, has applied to 
the Judges of the Court of Common Pleas of said 
County, to be discharged from contingent according 
to the laws of New- Jersey, passed for the relief of 
persons imprisoned for debt ; and that the said Judges 
have appcnnted ten o'clock in the forenoon of Tuesdsy 
the 12th day of February next« at the Court House in 
Mount-UoUy, in the County aforesaid, to hear what 
can be alleged for and against his liberation. 

JOSEPH WETHERILL, jun. 

Burlingto n Prison, Jan. 11th, 1811. 4t, 

Published Weekly y by D.Allinsony 

CITY OP BURLIWOTOK, N. J. 

Price two Dollars sixty»two Cents for Volume first, 
payable scmi-anjluair^ ^ 



, >. «j^....« 



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«* Homo sum ; humani nihil a me aliemm put04^^'^MavL and Ms cares to me a man, are dear. 



seesBBa 
VOX- 



I- 



BURLINGTON, FIRST MONTH (JANUARY) 28th, 1811, 



No. 2r* 



THE RECORDER. 

No. XXVI. 

OtaabOh- sed nostro non referenda sono. 

Amo. Poi*itiawus. 

<* I &in would ting these soul-eiitrMicing^ songs, 
But not to me such lofty power beloogs.*' 

Among those poets who have been par- 
ticularly distinguished for a delicacy and 
refinement of taste, for a perspicuous and 
correct diction^ for a tender and Impassioned 
strsun of sentiment, there are few who can 
sust^un a comparison with die much admired 
Ovid, and no one is better entitled to wear 
the poetic wreath that decorates his brow. 
Though in his " Ars Amandi," " Epistles," 
and " Metamorphoses,'* he has sometimes 
allowed himself to be seduced by the pre- 
vttling manners of his age, and has indulged 
in a licentiousness of sentiment, and a vo- 
luptuousness of expression, that has deserv-' 
edlyii^c^^n'ed censure from die fastidious- 
ness of modem readers of poetry ; yet in 
odiera of his writings, he breathes a uniform 
sjnrit of tenderness, of delicacy, and of 
pathos, and has clothed hb ideas in lan- 
guage^ correct, chaste, and beautiful. I how- 
ever admire his " Tristia" before his other 
writings: these are a series of elegies written 
dwing his residence on the banks of the 
later, and the Euxine Sea, whither he had 
been exiled at the command of Augustus, 
for some act that excited the displeasure of 
that monarch; though of what nature his 
offence was, we are ignorant. In these ele- 
gies, addressed with few exceptions, to his 
wife and friends at Rome, Ovid bemoans 
the severity of his punishment in terms, 
which however repulsive to the stem apathy 
of Stoics, excite warm and corresponding 
emotions in every feeling heart. He evinces 
himself to be none of that mder race, who 
smile upon the efforts of adversity, and from 
whose breasts the " am^ws of outrageous 
fortune'' drop harmless like the spear of Pri- 
am 5 but alive to all the tender sensibilities 
of human nature ; a fond and affectionate 
husband and father, a sincere and fai':hful 
friend. He is a po«it, and we sympathize 
in those feelings for the indulgence of which 
we are inclin:id to contemn Cicero. 

I have endeavtjured to give to one of these 
degies an English dress ; and have selected 
die third of the diird book, addrtssed to his 
wife ; die circumstsaices under which it was 
written are depicted " with a mastei-'s hand 
and a poet^s fire" in the elegy itself. Trans- 
lations however correct and animated, are 
when faithful, generally vapid and spiridcss, 
in comparison with the original. In addi- 



Ossian^ that no man is qualified to translate 
the works of a writer to whom in genius he 
is inferior, must and will make ample allow- 
ances for the defects of the present attempt. 
I have endeavoured in almost every instance, 
to give the sense of the author, rather than 
to accommodate them to our manners and 
customs. This will, I trust, account and 
obtain pardon for the harshness and rugged- 
ness or die verses, perceptible even to my 
own observSition, and so different from the 
oily smoothness, and diamqnd polish of the 
original* 

Lib. III. Eleg. 3. Ad Uxorem. 

Haec mea, si casu nuraris, cpistofe qtiarc, &c. 

TO MY WIFE. 

When these sad tokens meet ypur aimous eyes, 
And in your heart inquiring doubts arise; 
Since they are vrritten in a stranger's hand- 
Know that your Ovid, in a foreign land, 
Beneath the height of various woes is bent. 
His soul disheartened, and his s|}irits faint : 
Just on the verge of life my spirit seems, 
And ^tHfe prospectar shine with broken gldams» 
Here winter rude, in awful power reigns, 
Here the vast streams are held in icy chains ; 
Here my mean Shed scarce screens me from the blast; 
Atid every hour I fondly hope's my last : 
I find no comfort, sickness to relieve, 
No wholesome food, my wonted strength to give; 
No kind physician here my pain allays, 
No frigid, whose talk might cheat the creeping days; 
But in a foreign land, unknown I lie. 
Where not one comfort cheers my aching eye. 
Where every charm that mitigates distress 
Flies with the hour, and leaves »' my little less." 

The thought of you almie my much lov'd wife 
Preserves the faint and glimmering spark of life ; 
Your image holds possession of my heart, 
And does each night and day a balm impart ; 
And that your name upon my tongue might dwell. 
All think, to reason 1 have bade farewell. 
And if my worn out spirits now should faint, 
If that my faltering tongue should oease its plaint, 
Beyond the power of mcdVine to excite. 
And soon my eyes must close in endless night; 
Borne on tl^e wings of love should you appear. 
The happy sight my spirits soon would cheer, 
And you, endowed with more than physic's power. 
Would for a time delay the fatal hour.- 
But while I here in this lone place complain, 
You of my sufferings ignorant remain j 
Perhaps with joyful heart, with cheerful smile, 
Tl.e sad reinen»brancc of past ills beguile; 
1 would not think that thus your days have fled. 
But such perhaps may be the life you lead; 
Oh ! can u be that you forgetful prove 
Of the lone wretch, whom fervently you love i 
Can you from sorrow and from anguish free, 
Eiijoy this pleasure, and ne'er think of me? 

Oh ! that my fate had only filled those years 
Which in bright prospect once dispelled my fears i 
Oh ! that my race were run, and soon to death 
It were decreed that I must yield my breath : 
Oh! that the gods had given my bone* to rest. 
And in my natal soil at length be placed ; 
Oh! that till now my exile had been scaycd, 
C»r that my death this exile had forbade! 



tion totnis remark, they who coincide in the J i^at in my grave I might with honour liel 

observation of the Author Oj tutf EnL^/ioh Mj life ib ieni^iaciie^ but an exiU Uic : 



In a lone land must I now find my tomb > 
And every thought add darkness to the gloom I 
May I not die upon a well known bed? 
And must no friendly eye weep o'er me dead ? 
Cannot the tears of a belov'd wife sta^ 
Sly breath, for one short quickly fleetmg day .' 
My last commands not give ? In death's repose 
Shall not a friendly hand m^ eye-lids close ? 
Must I beneath a foreign sort be placed 
By friends unmourned, by funeral rites ungmced ^ 
Will not yotir eyes at this recital mourn f 
Will not your soul by raging grief be torn ? 
Will you not this way stretch your arms in vain. 
And o'er my fate in agony complain ? 
Your grief compose, your tresses cease to^tear» 
But strive with fortitude these ills to bear. 
I am not now first ravished from your sightt 
Nor do I now from life first take my fii^(» 
When 1 at powerful Cesar's stem command* 
Was harshly forced to leave my natal strand. 
Oh! then I wished that I from life had fled. 
And rather had been npmbered with the dead. 

Then strive, if in ypur breast such strength remaiii^. 
To vanquish and o'ercome these grievous pains; 
Strive to rejoice, that I have sunk to death 
And all my sorrows fled with my last breath. 
But if to you this strength of n^ind's denied^ 
And you must mourn that ever Oviddiecl; 
At least within your heart this gprief repress 
By sufferings taught, betray not your distress. 

Oh 1 (hat my soul might with my body die. 
Nor from my dying frame so eager fly ! 
For, if the Samian sage* has spoken right, 
My sou! from hence shall never wing her flight; 
But far from friends, and from my country dear. 
Shall 'mongst the Scythians, ever wander here. 
O place at least my bones within an urn. 
That after death I may to Rome return ; 
Who shall this right forbid? The Theban maidf 
Beneath the turf, her brother's ashes laid. 
And o'er my corpse strew fragrant herbs around. 
And place my body in Italian ground; 
And ou my tomb, to meet the passing eyes. 
Let these few lines denote where Ovid lies. 
" Here he is laid who sung of love the pains, 
** Beneath this stone are placed the bard's remains; 
«• And if thou lovest, Oh ! be not slow to say, 
** May the turf light on Ovid's bosom lay!" 

On Ovid's tomb grave not another word, 
These humble lines will well his name record; 
His fame upon a nobler stand is raised. 
Let him by tombstone flattery ne'er be praised s 
His works will reach e'en to remotest times. 
And spread his glory through most distant climes. 

But o'er his grave the vernal roaet strew. 
Wet with your tears, more dear than heaven's dew. 
What though my corpse the^ honouis cannot fed, 
AikI down my checks no tears of rapture steal; 
Yet shall my watchful spirit hovering near. 
View thy affectionate and pious tear. 
More would I say ; but sick, I need repose, . 
Fatigue and weakness force me now to clobc: 
Accept what is perhaps my la! est breath, 
For M>on this tongue shall siiffened be in deatli, 
I send 'o you uhat not to me is given. 
That healtU, which is the deaicsi g.ft of heaven, 

U. 

• Ovid alludes here to Pythagoras, a native of the 
island of Samoa, who taugbt . u. Hoctrine of tUe 
X(li7</*4'^y^''f > ^^ transmigration of si/ul?. 

f Anti^ivuie, who burled hei brother Poi.n ices pri« 
vately by night, aguinst the express coinniai.d of 
Crcon; for which slu? v^'aa cM.dcinnc'd tu he biritd 
alive. She evaded ihv pui IsV.nieui b> suicide, t i m 
this siory of Anvigooc, Sopno<ics h;«.& f^uJiucd Oi e of 



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FOR THB RURAL VISITER. 

Forty thousand men slain on the banks of 
the Danube ! — Glorious news ! We, the 
good people of this free land— this happy 
land — this highly favoured land — We, the 

fjod citizens o( these harmonious United 
tates, congratulate, disintereste^y congra- 
tulate (as we sit securely at the distance of 
three thousand miles, and smile over the 
luxurious and peaceful board), we congra- 
tulate the NOBLE dpposers of despotic power! 
— Well, to rejoice with those who rejoice, 
is si;irely an amiable trait ; but we should not 
forget also to mourn with those who mourn. 
What of the forty thousand slain ? Have we 
no fellow feeling for them f Can we not con* 
gratulate them, or at least their surviving 
kindred, on the immortal honour the deceas- 
ed shall receive ? Behold his corpse ! 

'* How beaxtttfiU in death 

The warrior's corse appears ! 
Embalmed by* sweet affection's breath, 

And tohed in woman's tears!*' 

Surely the spirit of the brave must lean 
with pleasure, even from the regions of bliss, 
to hear the strains of eulogy which are chant- 
ed at his obsequies ! 

" The loveliest spot of earth 
Be sacred to the brave.'* 

Or if indeed, as some assert, the dead 
cannot hear, how soothing still must it be to 
the heart of the widow, to witness tiie im- 
mortal honours which are paid to die re- 
mains and to the name of her loved com- 
panion ! What rich amends to her and her 
orphans for the loss of a husband and a 
father! With what renovated vigour will 
the ag^ and destitute mother burst forth 
from her retirement to witness the illustrious 
exit of the son of her prayers ! But alas ! 
these wtre Frenchmen* They were not fight- 
ing in the right cause* 

How ! Were they not fighting for gjory — 
for conquest? Are they not men ? Are they 
not unfortunate \ Their wives and children, 
their parents— at least, are they not entitled 
to compassion ? How many of those who are 
led to the field of slaughter, are deceived by 
their superiors into false hopes of glory ; and 
how many forced by the terrors of despotic 
power to leave their helpless families, and 
peaceful homes ! 

O war ! war ! O, ye great, ye mightj' of 
the earth ! ye who 

•' Ne'er felt, nor fear to feel a scar,** 

how long — ^how long from your ceiled houses 
and carpetted floors will ye delight to send 
forth desolation over the habitable globe. 
And you, ye simple ones — ^ye soldiers, ye 
sptictacles of hardship and distress, which 
g^uher you no glory — ye, but for whom these 
lordly gamblers in human misery would 
want their play — how long will ye be diiped? 
How long will ye continue to barter the 
noblest jMnvileges of men for a mess of pot- 
t;HTC ; nay, for lesfi— for k yain promise of 
vainglory^ after which you shall toil in vain. 
Bat not on you, alas ! nor on the demons 
rhit lead you, rests all the weight of diis 
e.ionnous evil- 



You who compose the hacfy of a nation, 
Who give it muscle, bone and character— 
You who give laws to lords and potentates. 
And mould the manners of the populace— 
Ye, who depress a nation with your crimes* 
Or raise it with your virtues. In your hands 
The fates of nations lie. And ye are gwlty^^ 
Do je not pnuse the murderers of men 
And call them beroet? 
Do not your wives and children hear yon praise 

them? 
Men who would not regard a woman's tears. 
Or infant's weakness— whose obdurate hearts 
Recent not at the tender calls of notaery— 
To whom nor age, nor sex, nor state is sacred— 
DemtMt^^noi men— blood-thirsty, cruel, selfish- 
Charles* Mid Alexanders ! Buonapartes !— 
These are your heroes!! yon youreehet bme made 

tbemf 
You read theur lives and teach your sons to read 

them. 
Your infant sons ireah from the nurse's arms 
To read them and Admibb!! 
Yes-— these are they that with gigantic stride 
Monopoliae the canvass, and command 
The obsequious world to venerate their crimes*- 
While yo— poor, base, degenerated men. 
Are proud to show your features in Xht hack ground: 
Your features ! Nay, yoor figures'^ 
Though scarce distin^shed in the tiny crowds 
That " peep about" m the coUossal shadow. 
To *« find" themselves *< dishonourable graves"— 
•Tis time the mask were rent— 'tis time the hero 
Showed his true character, and boldly sured 
The acknowledged foe of man in every shape. 
•Tis time that this *• majestic v^orid,'* so long 
<< Reputed wise," so long with truth illumed 
And science— -Spotless truth and science fair. 
Whose piercing ken strikes thro' the misty shades 
Of superstition, and makes error shrink 
Back is her dark pavilion, though intrenched 
With venerable age, and guarded clos« 
By ignorance, and prejudice, and dread— 
•Tis time that this brave world should rise and shake 
Her garments from the dust— from dust and bhodi 
•< Rise! rise! O man! thy dignity assert. 
And high descent. An empire waits thy nod. 
An empire wider, richer far than that 
O'er which the Roman Eagle spreaLd his whigs*^*- 
Thy kingdom lies 'mitbtn thee— t^e subdue 
Thy numerous foes— A conquest this indeed! 
Unlike the pigmy triumphs of this world, 
With noise confused ** and garments rolled in 

Wood!" 
But solemn, silent, as the mighty orbs 
Roll through the arch of heaveiw— 
Rome^s Empure fell— but thine endures forever ! 

ro» TB» »vaAL visxTEa. 

As it is supposed to be true that a great 
part of mankind are more inclined to re- 
member and proclaim the faults and failings 
of each other, than to recollect and relate 
the virtues Jtncl excellencies of their fellow 
mortals; in the present state of being where 
the portion of happiness is by no means 
abundant ; it may be useful to inquire into 
the nature of this disposition, and its influ- 
ence in promoting or lessening the comforts 
of society. 

As man is a rational being, his highest 
enjojrments are to be conveyed by the mind, 
and according to the purity and dignit)' of 
their original source, will be the degree of 
felicity, and the extent of its duration. Those 
pleasures of the mind which grow upon the 
recollection ; and leave the heart of a rea- 
sonable and accountable being best satisfied 
with itself, must afford the firmest lounda- 
tion for happiness. As such plctuiures can- 
not proceed from the gratification of the 
senses which we have in common with tho 
brute creation, neither would we allow our- 
selves to suppose that they ciJi be derived 



BE ^ 



from dispositions which possess the bosoms 
of the fmtn angels. A desire to lessen the 
enjoyments or to aggravate the miseries^ 
the human race, seems a propensity cxmsist- 
ent with the depraved and vitiated state of 
such apostate beings. 

Of the benevolent Author of happing 
when he had finiriied the work of creation, 
we are thus told, " And God saw eveiy 
^ng, and behold, it was very good.'' Good- 
ness is the reflected image of 3ic Deity ; for 
goodness is the cause of happiness. In pro- 
portion therefore, as our minds approach 
towards a conformity to the mind of this 
great origin of happiness, wiU we draw our 
enjoyments from tne same spring, and from 
that pure source alone can resS ha{^^ness 
proceed. 

, Resummg our first supposition, let us ex- 
amine our situation. After we may have been 
relating and displaying the faults or failings 
of our neighbours, will the reflecticm in any 
way give us pleasure ? With respect to our- 
selves, have we gratified the feelings of 
benevolence? Can we derive satisfaction 
from what we have done as indicating dis- 
positions which assimilate us to him who 
delighteth in doing good I If so, the work 
is good. With respect to our neighbour i 
Have we done to him as we would he should 
do to us ? Was it our intention to raise his 
reputation— ^o make him more respected, 
more beloved, or more prosperous in the 
world t If so, the purpose at least was good. 

With respect to society j Have we set an 
example worthv of imitation, and by follow- 
ing of which the public morals will be im- 
proved, and the general sto(;k of happiness 
augmented ? If so, the woi:k is good. 

But if sober reflection will not furnish 
diose conclusions, but others directly the 
reverse, let each of us who may be conscious 
that he has indulged such a practice, resolve 
with the divine assistance, to abandon it. 
Let us endeavour to gain an habitual dispo* 
sition of beholding the conduct of others in 
the most advantageous point of view, and of 
assigning the most favourable motives to 
their actions. By this means, instead of 
being prompt to speak mifavourably of our 
neighbours, we shall find ourselves ready 
and always inclined to advocate their cha- 
racters when illnatured attacks are made 
upon them, and when we cannot wholly 
justify their conduct, to seek every allevia- 
tion of what may seem blame-worthy, that 
the case will fairly admit of. 

After so doing, we shall recollect with 
comfort that ** we have done unto others as 
we would they ' should do unto us ;** and 
when we thus obey this divine command 
with satisfaction to ourselves, we have proof 
that we possess those tempers and disposi- 
tions, which assimilate us to the Deity ; and 
while we set an example tending to improve 
the public morals, and to promote the gene- 
ral stock of happiness, an approving con- 
science as the voice of God will say, " The 
work is good." B. 

Houseliold affairs ought insensibly to slide 
alor^, and repi < sent a still current, without 
noise or waves. 



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FOR THE RtTRAL VISITER. 



all the tricks 



*Pliat idleiMss has ever yet contrived. 
To fiU the void of an imf urnisbed bi«ki» 
To palliate dulness and £^Te time a above. 

CoWVBft. 

It is a custom very prevalent amoiig men, 
to endeavour to depreciate the merits of 
their ancestors and predecessors, to institute 
a comparison between the present customs 
and manners, and those of former times ; 
and by sdecttng particular instances or indi- 
vidual facts, prove to their complete satis- 
faction, that people of the last age were mere 
novices in learning, and numskulls in under- 
standing. There is something in this mode 
of procedure that pleases mankind ; and as 
it gratifies the inclinations of many, without 
inflicting any pain upon those who are thus 
lessened, (for our modern theorists and hy- 
pothesis-manufacturers, seldom think of ad- 
vocating an opinion if they know of any one 
able to detect the fallacy of it,) I cannot 
condemn with much severity, their fond 
prejudices and partialities* These compari- 
sons however, are generally unfair, and be- 
ing made by interested persons ; and design- 
ed rather to corroborate an opinion already 
CBtertained, than instituted from a desire to 
obtain a correct judgment, the conclusions 
are generally false consequences from mis- 
represented premises* Wbatevf r weakness 
tbey may be charged with, we should at 
least give them credit for adhering uniform- 
ly to the rules of philosophising ; for among 
our modem philosophers, an hypothesis is 
always formed before they begin to examine 
the suUect; and no stronger reason can be 
given m rejecting a fact as untrue, or an 
opinion as irrational* than because forsooth 
it militates against their previously forihed 
opinion. 

There is one subject however, in which 
we may agree even with these men, and 
yield the palm of superiour excellence to the 
present generation. As in this particular 
the pre-eminence of our own times, over 
those in which our grandfathers and grand- 
mothers figured in ^1 the splendour of belles 
and beaux, with all the gay sprig^tliness of 
youth, is acknowledged by many even of 
the warmest sticklers for antiquity, it cannot 
be considered as involved in the least doubt. 
Though I am far from being convinced that 
modem times are more virtuous, more sen- 
sible, or more valiant than former ; yet, in 
conversation I acknowledge the latter are 
eclipsed. Conversation among young people 
of the present day, possesses attractions and 
charms, to which even when I was young, 
we were endre strangers. In those old fash- 
ioned times, the most ordinary topics were 
such as might expand the intellect, refine 
the taste, and improve the hearts of yputh ; 
this required attention from each individual 
to what he said, and demanded some portion 
of common sense to enable persons to join in 
it. This absurd custom it is evident, must 
have afibrded opportimities for some to dis- 
play their superiority of imderstanding, 
obliged the ignorant and the foolish to re- 
main silent, and thus by destroying an 
equality, perverted the very ends of conver- 
sation. Besides all this, the numerous ad- 



vantages which result from scandal, in pro- 
ducing a circumspection of conduct were 
entirely unknown. To be sure, young ladies 
then were employed during tibe d^ in the 
occupations and duties of a housewife, which 
engrossing nftost of their time, prevented 
their devoting, like modem young women, 
at least their naoraings to mental improve- 
ment. Under such circumstances, conver- 
sation must be instructing, or the women 
must remain ignorant ; as it was their only 
means of gaining improvement and acquir- 
ing information. The case is different now. 
Young ladies are not now constrained to 
perform the duties of a housekeeper ; diese 
occupations they leave to domestics, and 
they are consequently as ignorant of the art of 
dressing a calrs head, and of making a plum 
pudding, as their mothers, when of the same 
age, were of calculating an eclipse of one of 
Jupiter's Satellites. Hence they have lei- 
sure to devote the principal portion of their 
attention to literature, and to the cultivation 
of their minds ; and their great attainments 
in useful knowledge, their superiority in 
imderstanding, dieir accuracy of judgment, 
and their general information, justify me in 
concluding that they do not misemploy their 
time. Thus devoting their days to die cul- 
tivation of their intellects, they enter into 
conversation as a mode of relaxation. Fa- 
tigued, and wearied with continued mental 
exertion, they require some relief. It is on 
this account, and from these causes, that 
conversation has obtained its present high 
character, and merits all those encomiums 
which have been bestowed upon it. As it is 
designed for relaxation, any thing that re- 
quires thought or exertion is protcribedas 
impertinent and irrelative : as its object i? to 
reheve the fatigue of study, any thing which 
can excite a smile, or dissipate the dulness 
and sameness of thinking, howsoever frivo- 
lous and trifling in other respects, deserves 
and receives attention : as conversation pos- 
sesses interest in proportion to the number 
of the party, it should embrace nodiing which 
is not level to the meanest capacity ; other- 
wise, many of those at present the most 
admired, must hang their heads in stupid 
silence : as the end of conversation is to 
administer pleasure to our companions, such 
trifling things as false reports, slanders, ma- 
licious insinuations, and objects of banter 
are universally sought after ; for though all 
of them must wound the feelings, and per- 
haps in many instances, ruin the character 
and reputation of a worthy person ; yet as 
they afford immediate gratification, future 
consequences are either not perceived or not 
regarded. In fact, unless the mind is dis- 
torted by prejudice, or the reason perverted 
by sophistry ; the latter must ever be con- 
sidered as merely the dust in the balance. 
With such advantages over former times, 
conversation cannot but be infinitely more 
agreeable than then. Instead of an odious 
aristocracy of wisdom and understanding, 
we enjoy all the happiness of equality* No 
man can now pretend to superiority on ac- 
count of his age, infoi*mation or experience ; 
but we bow before the golden cal/y the idol 
of stupiditj'. He or she who wishes to shine I 



in modem conversationes, to appear to ad- 
vantage in a circle, need ooJy to a good share 
of confidence— (ever the mark of superiour 
talents, though not deserving of die same 
contempt,) add a loud voice, a boisterous 
laugh, a collection of stories of which the 
" fuorum pars moffnafut^ is the sum total of 
the incident, and a fund of anecdotes and 
puns. 

Occasionally some particular subject en* 
grosses the attention of every one*; and 
mouths wide with expectation, eyes open 
with anxiety, appear on every side. Now 
the stcam-boat is the fashion ; now the arri- 
val of a stranger; now this— now that. Thus 
every one can be prepared beforehand ; he 
knows what will be talked of, and can always 
be ready^ When the steam-boat is men- 
tioned, no inquiry is made respecting the 
mode in which she is propelled with such 
velocity against wind and tide, or the prin- 
ciples upon which the machinary is con- 
structed ; no, tljiis would require attention, 
and of course could not be introduced widi- 
out a violent breach of all laws of politeness. 
The question is as to her expense, concerning 
whicn each individual gives his or her opi- 
nion, without regarding (I will not say com- 
mon sense, lest I should he called a boor for 
introducing such an expression,) their own 
judgments* How many passengers ? Will 
Mr. Stevens make any money b}' her ? aiid 
a numerous ei cuttera of questions equally in- 
teresting, and equally improving. 

In giving an account of the present state 
of conversation to Nicanor, an old fashioned 
friend, almost the only remaining companion 
of my hoyish years ; but who is a litde of the 
cynic and misanthrope from being formerly 
crossed in love, a misadventure from which 
he has never thorouglily recovered; and who 
is warm infavourof antiquity— he with all the 
acrimony of prejudice, declared that from 
my representations, the conversation (if it 
deserved the name,) of the present day, was 
a disgusting compound of malevolent scan- 
dal and insipid nonsense. ^ My friend," I 
answered,^ " you are mistaken. What you 
regard as * malevolent scandal,' is but diver- 
sion at the expense of others, lliose anti- 
quated notions of charity and * do unto 
others as you would they should do unto 
you,* arc long since exploded as impolite 
restraints upon the freedom of social inter- 
course. We consider others so far only as 
they minister to our own pleasures, as they 
increase our individual gratifications; we 
circulate reports concerniug our friends and 
acquaintance ; but according to modem 
fashionable ideas, retailers of scandal are 
entirely innocent ; die first propagators are 
scarcely considered as criminal. What you 
style * insipid nonsense/ we regard as inno- 
cent amusement. If nonsense is banished 
from society, the members must soon dis- 
perse: it is almost the only band which holds 
them together." My friend who is rather 
of a crusty disposition, became irritated at 
what he tenned^foUy in my argument ; and 
we separated with our rtsptctive opinions, 
mutually upbraiding each other for beinf* 
impervious to argument^ and proof against 
conviction. W. ii^ 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 

\ — 



FOR THB BU&AL VXSITBK, 

V 

If nothing better offers,, perhaps the fdlowing Unes 
may be permitted to occupy a comer of the Rural 

''""'' A LOOKER ON. 

When I look round and tec the love, the care 

Of boundless goodness fill the smiling land.— 
Eicistence spread through txrean, earth, and air, 
And Aetfiity lavished with exhaustlcsa hand i— 
Can I pass on " with brute unconscious gaze ?" 
Nor with one faltering accent whisper praise ! • 

From those bright orbs which through the realms of 
space, 
Pursue majestic their unvarying way- 
Down throiigh creation, far as man may tract 
Of power almighty the sublime display. 
Ail that we see and feel, combine to prove 
That ponoar is governed by unbounded love. 

What vivid hues the floral tribes adorn !— 

What fragrance floats upon the gales of even ! 
What floods of radiance gild the unfoldilig mom ! 
And dazzling splendour gems the midnight heaven! 
What glorious scenes on every hand, impart 
A glow of transport to th* untainted heart. 

How sweet, though transient! man, thy tarriance 
here, 
If peace arOund thee, spread her cheering rays, 
If conscience whispers in thy trennbling ear, 
No tale unpleasing of departed days; 
Then smile exulting at the lapse of time 
Which wafts thee gently to an happier clime* ^ 

Saw*8t thou the^orm his humble path pursue ? 

To varied dangers, doubis, and fears, a prey ? 
Joy in his cup soifie sweet ingredients threw, 
But darkness snatch'd him from the treat away. 
The poor Chrysalis in his lonely grave, 
Seem'd siting hopeless in oblivion's wave. 

But lo ! what magic bursts the dreary tomb ! 
What voke angelic, bids the sleeper, rise ! 
He wakes, array'd in beauty's living bloom, 

His new bom plumage ting'd with rain bow dyesj 
In air gay floating, while the sun beam flings 
A blaze of splendour o'er his glossy wings. 

Thy emblem this !— for death must quickly hide 

This fairxreation from tij raptur'd eye s 
Thy fragile form, to the poor worm allied, 
6old and unconscious in the grave must lie. 
But can the shackles of the tomb control 
This active spirit, this aspiring soul f . 

No— there are worlds in bloom immortal drest 

Where love divine in full effulgence glows. 
Where safely centered m eternal rest," 
Departed sphits of tlie good, repose 
W ith powers enlargM their Maker's works explore. 
And tind througli endless years^ new cause to 
wonder and adore. 

Burlington, Jan. 1811, 



FOR THB RURAL VISITER* 

Lines written in a convent at Montserat, in Spain, 
.St-pt. 4, 1785, by a Traveller; extracted from the 
European Magazine of 1787. 

With solemn step this awful pile I tread. 
Nor with indignant eye around me gaze ; 

But look with reverence on the sacred dead, 
Tbe bloody cross, aiul ever burning blaze. 

No idle prejudice my soul conceives, 
No horrid bigotry my bosom feels ; 

1 damn not him who this or that believes. 
Or care, before what saint the good man kneels. 

Still to the great Jehovah, Lord of all, 
In dilj'crent ways the pious heave the sigh, 

Keg.iidh'ss of iImt mode he hears their call, 
A lid dries in every land the tcar-fillM e>e. 

The honest mind in every vaiicd clime 
Alilce demands th* approving snule of heeven ; 

Sipce»-r ffpcnrancc iK.es awa\ the cnn>c, 
AtH merC) to tl,e contrite l>eart is given. 

Is no* the .God you worship, boundless love? 
Say then >ou sects of ever, land and name, 

il u ti< \')ua:ii-e n> tit" iicsi aj'-aj} rove, 
Aiui ever seek each otlier to defame .' 



-t«e*^ 



■a^i \\, '. 1 .1 m P 



Shall you who boast a Saviour for your head, 
A Eord who suffered, died, and bled for all*- 

Still in yooractiotts contradict hia creed. 
And panting candour, low as demons fall. 

Hence yt profitfie* of whatsoever tribe. 
And perish all the systems that you teach; 

In vaun you talk, if you have priesdy prid 
And wanting Chanty in vain you preach. 

What are your forms, ye varied christians, say ? 
If vehiclea to serve your God— -*tis well ! 

If you sincerely from your bosoms pray, 
With or without your beads, Oraisons tell. 

Serve then sincere that power who reigns above, 
Whose boundless love embraces bond«nd free : 

Then work his will, his promises you'll prove. 
For all the pure in heart their God shall see. 

INTELLIGENCE. ^ 

FOREIGN. 

Several bonfires of British manufactures have been 
made on different parts of the continent of Europe ; in 
one at Varel 39 waggon loads were consumed. 

The subterranean passage, by which the Roman 
emperors went privately from the palace of the Ce- ^ 
Airs, on Moun( Celius at Rome, to the Flavian am- 

ghiiheatre, haa lately been discovered, beskles a nnm- 
er of architectural fragments, capitals, cornices, and 
vases, the remsdns of its splendid decorations. Some 
fine torsos have also been found, and a head of Mer- 
cury, which appean to have beion|^d to the statue in 
the garden of the Pope, and now m the Chiaramonti 
museum. Several pipes and gutters for carrying off 
water were also discovered, and twenty rooms of very 
small dimensions, lighted only from the top^ These 
are supposed to have been the fomices frequently al- 
luded to by Martial, Seneca, and Juvenal. 

Letters are received which state that the British 
Orders in Council will be rescinded soon after the 
meeting of parliament.— The account of the death of 
King George, by the Hunter, as mentioned in our 
paper of the 14th instant, would seem bv those of 
later date, to be incorrect. The Prince of Wales is 
bow spoken of as regent* 



t DOMESTIC. 

' James Monroe, Esq- is chosen governor of Virginia 
for the ensu'mg term. His predecessor Mr. John Ty. 
)er^ is appointed a Judge of the United States. In 
Wake county. North Carolina, there are 1310 looms, 
which during the last year v^ove more than 300,000 
yards of cloth of various kinds, 

,Tis said intelligence is received at Washington, that 
Gov. Folk had given up to Col. Cushing the fort and 
town of Mobile, and the Territory as far as the Per- 
dido, to keep until Spain can act for herself. Baton 
Rouge had likewise surrendered. 

A line of stages commenced running from Boston 
through Stan stead to Quebec, the 15th instant. Part 
of their route is on the celebrated road of Gov. Craig, 
notioed in the foreign intelligence of our Visiter of the 
17th ultimo. 

Mr. Bloget, of Washington, estimates the present 
number of the inhabitants of the United States and 
Territories, at 6,955,000, which is three persons to 
each ndle; annual births 3iX),000{ annual deaths, 
190.000: dwelling houses, 1,275,000, colleges 25, aca^ 
demies 74, improved lands, 40,950,000 acres, horses, 
1,4000,000, horned cattle, 3,750.000, tons shipping, 
1.250.000. imports 54.000,000, exports, S 52.200,000. 
banks 95, bank capitals, 55,000.000. custom house 
bonds, 9.600.000— total valuation of the United States, 
2. 5 i 0,009,090. 

Our Legislature met at the seat of Government ac- 
cording to adjournment, the 15>h inst. to whom the 
following report of the state Treasurer was on the 
16ihj)resented by the Speaker: 

To tie Honourable the Legislature of the State of 
Ncvs-Jersej;. 

GeVTLEMEN. 

Your Treasurer, in complia'^ce with the act passed 
the 3d of November lact, authorising him on the 2d 
instant to subscrilie in the Ti^nton bank for as many 
shares of the reserved stick as would amount to 
twenty thousand dollars; aixl also appropriated by 
said act fr>r the like purpose, all the monies that should 
be received, on arojunt of the funded debt, belrnging 
to thi« state, and also the dividends that should from 
♦ime to time be declared, on the stock thus subscribed 
f,r— 'Your Treasurtr, anticipatinq; the monies thus 
approjMriatcd in the last iteju, and which would be 



received in the coiirse of the year, to the atnoant . 
J5 4000, or upwards, concluded it most for the intere^ 
of the state, to subscribe at once for eight liuT\clrc 
shares of stcdc* amounting to j^ 34.000 r And accom 
iagly, on 'the |d tattaat, did subscribe for tbe sal 
eight hundred Shares of the Mid stock, and -w^v^ 
now stands in the books of said bank, to the Cr. a.o 
name of ehe State of New-Jeraey. This he presimv 
will meet the approbation of the Legislature. 

Tour Trea^Burer also begs to inform the L.e£^isla.tur 
that the banks of Trenton, New-Brunswick and I^c^ 
ark, have all paid forward into the Treasurjr ttte oj 
' assessed on them, vis. 

Trenton bank g 893 76 Capital beinjr g rrs,7i 
N.Brunswick 1075 00 - - - 215,00 
Newark 1125 00 • -| - 235.00 

Making in the whole three thousand and ninety 
three dollars and seventy cents. 

The bank of Jersey have not come fbrwmrds an 
' from report intend to evade the law if possible* 

Your Tieasurer also informs that the county oJ 
MonmoQdi has paid into the Treasury, the third aad 
last instalment of the arrearages, with the interest dae 
thereon. I am your hunible servant, 

PETER GORDON, Treasurer. 
Treasury Office, Jan. 16th, 1811. 
Applications have been made for new Banks, to be 
established at Camden ; New-Brunswick ; Bridgetown, 
Middlesex; Elizabeth-Town; Morristown, and N^ew-j 
ark ; a lso for a State Bank. The coxninitree toi 
whom ^as referred the several applications, have re- 
ported in favor of apportioning j^ 600,000 Capital 
among the former ; but think it at presant neithfr 
practicable nor expedient to establish a State Bank. 

nc> Came to JACOB POOLE, on the BCbl mstan. 
'FIVE STRAY GEESE. Any person proving thdr 
property, and paying expenses, may have them ot 
application. 

ANECDOTE 

SOUTH-HAMPTON CANAL* 

South-Hampton'« wise Sons, f(»ind the river 

so large, 
Tho* 'twould cany a {Ship, 'twould not cany 

a Barge—— 
Bat soon this defect, their sage noddles sup- 
plied. 
For tiiey cut a ^ug ditch to run close by its 

side: 
Like the man who, contriving a hole through 

the wall. 
To admit his two Cats, the one great, t'other 

small; 
Where b, great hole he made for great Ptas 

to pass through. 
And a lit fie hde cut for his little Cat too!! 

A neighbouring editor informs us, that 
" The streets of Washington were lighted for 
the first time last week, with glow-wonns 
and fire-bugs— Five hundred of diese insects 
l>eing eonfined in every lamp, emitted so bril- 
liant a light during the night, that people in 
their houses did not knowlwhen the sun rose." 
Query- As ^ difficultj: exists in regard to ren- 
dering the walks in Burlington, and some of 
the other Towns of New- Jersey, pleasant 
and safe, in very dark nights; would it not be 
good poficy to obtain (if possible) a privi- 
lege from the enlightened Washfagtonians, 
for availing ourselves of this economical dis- 
covery ? 

An Irish preacher, descanting on the strengtli of 
Sampson, said that with the jawbone of an ass he put 
a thousand Philistines to the sword. 

' ^SBBssssB^ssassassssssssssssss^ 
Fubiihhed Weekly^ by !)• Allimony 

CITV OP BURLINGTON, N. J. 

Price two Dollars sixty-two Cents for Volume firtr, 
payable semi-annually in advance 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



** Jfomo sum; humani nihil a me aiiemim putoJ^ — Man and his cares to me a 7nan^ are ckjUf- 



. VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, SECOND MONTH (FEBRUARY) 4th, 1811. 



No. 28 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XXVII. 



-cO laborttm 



Dulce kninien. 

O Masic sphere-descended maid ! 
Friend of pleasure, wifdom's aid ! 



HoaACX. 



CoLUM. 



Having in two preceding numbers shewn 
the eflFects that music is capable of exciting, 
having shewn that its tendency is virtuous 
and innocent when properly exerted, and 
that it may be made a source of pleasure, 
and a moUiative to our cares, I come now to 
make a few observations upon the music of 
the present times. Some parts of my former 
essays have been grossly misrepresented, or 
strangely misunderstood by a writer who 

. signs himself " Philo Musico." It is not 
the intention, nor consistent with the plan of 
the Recorder to engage in useless disputes 
and controversies ; he has nobler and higher 
objects in view; bitt it coming within the 
path he had prescribed to himself, to say 
something upon the subject on which " Philo 
Musico*' has represented him as having al- 
ready expressed his decided opinion, he is 
satisfied with saying that he has not uttered 
a sentence or idea, that can be construed to 
imply that he considered the ancients as 
superiour to the modems in their music; 
though this is really his opinion. And really 
to him it appears that ** Philo Musico" has 
only charged this upon the Recorder in 
order to s^ord himself an opportuninr of in- 
troducing and displaying his own anilities. 
With this gentleman I have done. 

It is hot my intention to enter into a dis- 
cussion of the long disputed point, whether 
the ancients or modems have excelled in 
this art. None of the musical productions 
of antiquity have descended to us, by means 
of which w^ could institute a fair compari- 
son, or arrive at any certain conclusion. Yet 
if we remember uiat in all the fene arts, in 
poetry, in sculpture, in painting, and in ora- 
tory, ^ey are universally allowed to liave 
transcended the most boasted productions 
of modem times ; if we bear in mind. the 
language and expressions with which their 
philosophers, poets and historians have prais- 
ed the skill displayed by their cotemporaries 
in the arts above enumerated, and compare 
their commendations upon them, with those 
bestowed upon their proficiency in music ; 
if we can credit their testimony, and believe 
that the effects produced by the influence of 
soimd, were as they have been represented 

i by those under whose observation tl • y camf ; 
it cannot, I tfiink, admit of a doubt but that 
the ancienta were equally superiour to the 



moderns in this art, as they confessedly were 
in the others. To say more upon this ques- 
tion would merely be to repeat what has fre- 
quendy been said before ; to walk in a path 
where the frequent footsteps have destroyed, 
or the frequent passengers gathered every 
flower which would have afforded me any 
gratification to pluck. 

In these our own days it has been cus- 
tomary to declaim against the degeneracy of 
the present times, to sigh. over departed ex- 
cellence, and to weep for the melancholy 
prospects that present themselves to our 
view. Such effusions when they do not pas^ 
by unnoticed like the idle breeze, produce 
nothing but the contempt or ridicule of thoee 
against whom they are directed. Did not 
justice allow me to bestow the deserved 
meed of praise upon the present taste for 
music, I would take warning by the fate 
which has ever attended these mourners, 
and preserve my silence. Fortunately, I am 
not constrained to this ; the excellency of the 
music now generally admired^ and the pre- 
valency of good taste which it bespeaks, call 
for something more than an abstinence from 
censure. And this praise more particularly 
is due to the inhabitants of the United States, 
among whom it is more generally diflused. 
But Uioiigh 1 give ray general apjwobation, 
yet I wish to point out what I consider 
blemishes. Many of the pieces of music 
which appear to be much admired, seem to 
owe their approbation to the difliculty that 
attends ^eir execution. However pleasing 
it may be to see another overcome obstacles, 
which to us appeared insurmoimtable ; what- 
ever delight we may receive from viewing 
the successful endeavours of art, the plea- 
sure we derive from it is of a nature entirely 
different from that which indicates an accu- 
rate and delicate taste. I love that music 
whose distinguishing characteristic is sim- 
plicity ; that winds itself into the secret re- 
cesses of the heart, and steals away the rea- 
son which might in some cases prompt us to 
condemn an inaccuracy ; diat by its potent 
Influence, aided by die circumstances in 
^hich we are placed, and the scenes around, 
infuses into the soul that sacred rapture, and 
delightful ecstacv, that seem to free us from 
the shackles and bonds of mortality. How 
different is the pleasure afforded by the un- 
:iatural succession of sounds which is How 
80 much admired, from that which I have 
cescribed: how different from what Mr. 
Brydone experienced on his passage ii^ an 
ooen boat from Sicily to Malta. It was a 
cdm still night — not a sound was heard to 
break the repose in which nature seemed 
hished, save the distant waves of the Medi- 
terranean gently rolling upon the shore : tlie 



seamen appeared influenced by the 6cen»— 
they sung their midnight hymn to the vir- 
gin, marking the time with their oars : — it 
was simple — solemn apd pathetic — Here 
every circumstance and every object con- 
spired to aid the influence of this ardess 
melody: and dull must have been that heart, 
over which this music could have rplled, 
without awakening every feeling of tender- 
ness, of devotion, and of virtue. 

^Vhatever praise may be tdlowed to Mr. 
Moore for the delicacy and refinement that 
he has displayed, and the beauty of his dic- 
tion, I much doubt whether that taste which 
he bas so successfully laboured to introduce, 
should be regarded with a favourable eye by 
the true friend of simple and pathetic music. 
I mean not to censure indiscriminately all 
the productions of this poet ; but it appears 
to me that what Quintilian has with so much 
truth said of the wridngs of Seneca, may 
without much impropriety be applied to him* 
His songs are filled " dulciis vitiis," with 
blemishes that win our approbation under 
the imposing i^pearance of beauties ; th^ 
overpower our reason by first winning ©ur 
feelings. The productions of Moore are 
materially different from those simple but 
touching airs, that a few years since were 
imiversally admired, though by many they 
are considered as of tlie same nature. I 
know not with what terms, or expressions I * 
can point out the distinction that to me seems 
obvious between them ; or convey my idea 
perfectly and fully to ray readers. The 
difference appears to me to exist rather in 
the general character, than in any particukcr 
feature j rather in the effect than in the man- 
ner. Perhaps I may illustrate my meaning 
better, and convey it with greater precision 
by a passage from Milton's Comus, where 
the difference between the •music of the 
Lady and of the Syrens, is expressed in Ian- ^ 
guage so beautiful, and with a taste so dis- 
criminating and correct, that while it entides 
it to challenge a competition with any other 
passage in English poetry, will, I ti'ust, obvi- 
ate every objection to the length of the 
quotation. 

** Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould 
Breathe such divine enchanting ravishtnem ? 
Sure something holy lodges in that breast. 
And with these raptures moves the vocal air 
To testify his hidden residence: 
How sweetly did they float upo« the winfrs 
Of silence through the empty vaulted night. 
At every fall smoothing the raven down . 
Of darkness rill it smiled! 1 have oft heard 
My mother Circe and the Syrens three. 
Amid the Bowery kittled Naiades 
Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs. 
Who as they sung would take the prisoned soul 
And lap it in Elysiucn: Sylla wept 
And chid her barking waves into atte«itton> 
And t'dl Charybdis mitnnured soft applsoae 



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142 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



Yet they in pteuing tlumljbrlidled the soul. 
And in sweet madness robbed it of itself; 
But such a sacred and home-feU delight, 
Such sober certainty of waking bliss 
1 never heard till now.** U. 



MEMOIRS OF SOCRATES. 

No. V. 

" Thy body," said Socrates to Aristo- 
demus, '^ is only a little earth, taken from 
the great mass oi earth which thou beholdcst. 
The moisture of thy body is only a small 
por^^ion of the great ocean. In short, the 
elements of matter in thy body, is only a 
small part of those, which in other places 
are in immense quantities. Thou art not 
ignorant that thou art endowed with under- 
standing ; dost thou then think there is not 
elsewhere an immense intelligent Being, 
who has disposed this universe with all these 
so vast and numerous bodies, in so much 
wisdom and order: or is all disposed by 
chance ?" ** I find it," said Aristodemus, 
** very difficult to understand it otherwise 
than by chance ; because I do not see tliis 
(^od, who, as thou tellest me, made all 
things." " Nor dost thou see thy own soul," 
answered Socrates, ** which nevertheless 
j^vems thy body by knowledge and reason, 
and not by chadce. Ought we not likewise, 
to believe there is a mi/i^ diffused throughout 
the universe, who disposes of all things as 
it pleases ? Thou shouldst not imagine that 
thy weak sight can reach to objects several 
leagues distant, and that tlie ^ye of God 
cannot at one and the snme time see all 
things. He sees, hears, knows, and takes 
care of all things, being present in all places." 
" All are idle, who have no emplojrments 
but such as are hurtful and wicked. Those 
are idle who might employ themselves more 
usefully.** 

He frequently said' the readiest way to 
glory, was to render one's self excellent, a^d 
Tiot affect to appear so : to be really that which 
we desire apparendy to be : for knavish and 
dangerous is the appearance of riches, bra- 
very or strength ; when we are not rich, 
brave, nor strong. 

From Xenophon, Book it. By the story 
of Hercules, he taught virtue to Aristippus. 
When his son*Lamprocles was offended by 
the ill humours of Xantippe, he tauglithim 
1 he nature of filial gratitude : That his mo- 
ther loved him, and had done much for him ; 
that he ought, therefore, to tn^ and please 
her, even in her ill humours, more than any 
neighljour or other companion. ** Take 
care," said he, " that men do not discover 
tlie contempt thou shewest her, for if it was 
suspected thou didst return ingratitude for 
the benefits of thy parents, no man could 
believe .thou wouldst be grateful for the be- 
nefits others might do thee.'' 

Pie taught Cherecrates to love his bro- 
thers, as more decorous and advantageous 
than the loving of other people. Yet, thot 
fiiends deserved our assiduous and affec- 
tionate care, and were of more value than 
riches. And *^ it would be well," said he to 
Atttisthcnes, ** to prize the value of our 
frteuds, and to consider of how much vidoe 



wc can I)c to them : so that we may render 
ourselves as valuable in theirregard as we can, 
to ihe end that they may not abandon us." 

By his discourse with Critobulus, it ap- 
pears that every vice is destructive to friend- 
ship; but every virtue promotes it. He 
advises, to choose friends by their works, of 
virtue ; and to praise their good deeds by 
practicing them. The friendship of the 
great or good is desirable ; and to render 
ourselves capable of performing great or 
good deeds, is the \vay to acquire it. ** I 
am inclined to love," said Socrates, " and I 
exert my whole skill to make myself beloved 
by those I love. I endeavour to excite in 
their minds a flame like mine, diat they may 
desire my company as ardently as I long for 
theirs." 

He held, that he who knows what is good 
and embraces it ; and what is bad ^nd avoids 
it ; is wise, learned and temperate : they 
who will not embrace good and avoid sin, 
are unlearned and int^nperate. He said, 
all things were equally as beautiful and good 
as they were useful. 

Every virtue is a science : the actions of 
which are good, or honourable, or wise, or 
cha Tning. Justice is a science ; as it has 
re.pect to its laws, which are numerous. 
Justice is the observance of laws. The vio- 
lation of unwritten or divine laws ne\'er goes 
unpunished. To obey the laws is to be just. 
Courage is a science : for they only who 
know and see their difficulties and dangers, 
and know how to behave themselves well in 
die midst of them can be accounted brave. 
They who know not how to do so and behave 
themselves ill, arc cowards. Thus every 
virtue is a science. 

Wisdom is knowledge: and every man is wise 
in what he knows- Not to know one's self, 
or to imagine one knows what he does not, is 
a disease next to folly. On the front cf the 
temple at Delphos is written, *" Kno7v thy- 
^^." A man knaws not himself till 'he lias 
made trial of all that is good and bad in him; 
and found what he is fitted for and able to 
do, and what he is unfitted for and unable 'to 
do. Whosoever knows any one thing per- 
fectly, is neither useful to men nor favoured 
by the Deity. To do well is a man'^i best 
study ; and all who take delight in this study 
are, I think, generally successful. However, 
when a man has done all he can do, he ought 
to fear nothing, and hope all dungs from hinn 
in whose power it is to do us the greatest 
good. 

A sceptre makes not a king, but the 
knowledge to command does. To men of 
genius and ability, Socrates would say, thaV 
they who have the greatest natural parts* 
have most need of instruction. He often 
said he was in love ; and courted only th^ 
mind^ that were inclined to virtue. 

Libert}' is very estimable. A slave tf 
sensual delights finds himself incapable df 
doing good. To do good is liberty : and t> 
be restrained from doing good is to be p 
bondage. Debaucher}*, intemperance, am 
every vice hinder from doing good, aiil 
compel to do evjl. They are therefore bjp 
masters, and hold their subjects in a misel- 
able sLiverj'. They deprive men of tli^r 



/ 



wisdom, and drive diem to disorder, 
and distoess. Sobriety, temperance tmd 
every virtue hinder us from doing evil, and 
animate us to virtuous actions. The volup- 
tuous too, who, desiring pleasures funv^ wiU 
not endure hunger, thirst, fatigue, or the 
stings of lust, cannot relish gratifications, 
like the temperate and sober, who accustom 
themselves to wait the necessary or proper 
times. A government of good men he 
called an aristocracy ; and a government of 
rich men, a plutocracy. 

W^hat is good ? That Which is profitable 
is a good to him who is profited ; but an 
evil to him who is injured. The rule of 
Socrates was, Never^o beyond utility* Jus- 
tice and injustice, he said, was the whole 
study of his life : and I have lived as weD, 
and as pleasantly as any man, if to live weD 
is to have no concern but for virtue : and to 
live pleasantly, is to find we make some pro- 
gress in it. 

What is beauty ? Whatever is of any use, 
is reputed beautiful in regard to the thing, 
to which that use relates. His rule of argu- 
ment, was the evidence in his nci^bour*s 
own conscience ; convincing them by their 
own concessions : he argued from the plain- 
estpropositions. 

Enemies are an estate if we can nnake 
them profitable to us. Friends are a great 
estate. For whatever brings us any profit 
is an estate : and possessions are no es- 
tate, if they jwe unprofitable. So that, what 
is no estate to one, may be an estate to 
another, who knows how to profit by it. To 
profit our friends and relations, promotes 
good huirour, harmony, peace and love. 

Wm. Penn says, Socrates not Ordy con- 
fessed to one God, but gave good reasons for 
his belief. Uc said that God will reward 
such as please him, and punish such as dis- 

E lease him : for he hath power to do it, and 
adi imprinted the belief in man that he will 
do it. Tne soul of man, says Socrates, par- 
takes of the divine nature in governing those 
who cannot see it. The guide oOife, which 
was in Socrates, and was to be of more value 
to him than five hundred masters, ver^* often 
impulsed or moved him to preach to the 
people, though in the streets ; sometimes ut 
a way of severe reproof,- at other times by io- 
formation, and gently dissuading them mm 
intemperance, vanity of life, and seeing plays: 
and exhoning them to repentance, reforma- 
tion and sell- denial, in hopes of immortality. 



King James I. of England, went cart of 
his way to hear a noted pr«achcr. Tbe 
clergj^man seehig the king enter, left his text 
to declaim against swearing, for which die 
king was notorious— -*Wheo done, James 
thanked him for his sermon, but asked what 
connexion swearing had with the text. Hf 
answered, " Since your Majesty came out 
of your way through curiosity to meet rot* , 
I could not, in complaisance, do kss than go 
out of mine to meet you." 

We should never assume the right of 
binding men in matters of conscieoite, by 
our opinion. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



14^ 



»BLECTBD 70S THE EUBAL ViSfTBm. 

If poetry not original is acceptable to the Rural Visit- 
er, a subscriber tbinks the following will be. 

CASTLE BUILDING. 

" Sweet pliability of man's spirit, that can at once 
surrender itself to illusions, which cheat expectation 
and sorrow of tfhcir weary moments,*' 

Goddess of golden dreams, whose magic power 
Sheds smites of joy o'er misery's haggard face; 

And lavish, shews the visionary flower 
To deck life's wearying paths with transient grace ; 

I woo thee. Fancy ! from thy fairy cell. 
Where, midst the endless woes of human kind, 

Wrapt in ideal bliss thon lov'st to dwell, 
And sport in happier regions unoonfined. 

Deep sunk, O goddess ! in thy pleasing trance) 
Oft let me seek yon low seqoester'd vale ; 

WhUe wisdom's self shall steal a sidelong glance. 
And smile contempt— but listen to my tsue. 

Alas ! how little do her votaries guess 
Those rigid troths which teamed fools revere 

Serve bat to prove, oh teuic to happiness. 
Our joys delusive bat our woes sincere. 

Be't theirs t« search where elustertng roses grew. 
Touching each sharp thorn's point, to prove how 
keen; 

Be't rome, to trace their beauties as they blow» 
And catch their fragrance where it lives vnsecn. 

Haply my path may lie through barren vales. 
Where niggard nature all her smites denies; 

Even there, ^hall fancy scent the ambient gales* 
And scatter flowrets of a Uiousand dyes* 

Nor let the worldling scoff— be this his task« 
To form deep sdiemes, and moitm his hopes bc« 
tray*d. 

Be it mine to range unseen-^'tis all I ask. 
And £rame new worids beneath the silent shade. 

To look beyond the vtews of wealth and pride. 
Bidding the mind's eye range without controls 

O'er vast extensive day-dreams far and wide 
To bring returns of comfort to the soul > 

'So bid groves, hiUs, and lucid stieamsuppear. 
The ^ded spire, arch'd dome, and fretted vault, 

And sweet society be ever near. 
Love ever young, and fKiends withodt a fault. 

I see entranc*d the gay conceptions rise» ^ 
My harvests ripen, and my white flocks thrive. 

And still as fancy pours the large supplies, 
1 taste the godlike happiness to give* 

To check the patient wWow's deep drawn sighs, 
And shield the infant from the north blast rude. 

To bid the sweetly glist'nhig tear arise, 
That swims in the glad eye of gratitude. 

To join the lovely maid, and honest swain. 
Where fortune rudely bars the way to joy ; 

To ease the tender mother's anxious pain. 
And guard with fostering hand her darling boy. 

. To raise op modest merit from the ground. 

And send the unhappy* smiling from my door ; 
To spread content and cheerfulness around. 
And banquet on the blessings of the poor. 

Delicious dreatn ! how oft beneath thy power 
Thus ight'ning the sad load of others' woe, 

I Meal from rigid fkte one happy hour, 
Nor^eof /tvoNT the pity I bestow. 

Delicious dream ! how often dost thou give 

A gleam of bHss which truth would but destroy ; 

Oft dost thou bid my drooping heart revive. 
And catch one cheerful gtimjtse of transient joy. 

And ! bow precious is that timely friend, 
Who checks affliction in her dread career. 

Who knpws distress, well knows that be may lend 
A^ hour of lUe, who sto^is a rmf^ tear. 



Oh ! but for thee, long since the hand of care 
Had mark'd with livid pale my furrowed cheek ; 

Long since the shiv'ring grasp of cold desfiair. 

Had chiird my breast, and forc'd my heart to break. 

For ah ! affliction steals with trackless flight. 
Silent the stroke she gives but not less keen ; 

And bleak misfortune like an eastern blight, 
Sheds black destruction though it flies unseen. 

O come then Fancy! and with tenicnt hand 

Dry my moist cheek, and smooth my fflrrow'd 
brow ; 

Bear me o'er smiling tracts of fruitful land, 
And give me more than fortune can bestow. 

Mix'd are her boons and chequer'd o'er with ill. 
Her smiles the sunshine of an April mom, 

The cheerfitl valley skirts the gilded hill, 
And latent storms in every gale are borne. 

Give me thy hope that sickens not the heart, 
Give me thy wealth that has not wings to fly, 

Give me the pride thy honours can inxpart, 
Thy friendship give me— warm ia poverty. 

Give me a wish the worldlings may deride, 

The wise may censure, and the proud may hate- 
Wrapt in thy dreams to lay the world aside. 
And snatch a bliss beyond the reach of fate. 



FOR THB BUBAL YIStTEB. 

The following lines were written extempore, on mt* 
ing a t«ul in a very romantic situation, surrounded 
with flowers. 

What varied beauty decks thy dwelling, toad ! 

The breath of ft^igrance all around tbee spread, 
Luxuriant foliage veils thy cool abode. 

And crimson clusters shade thy auburn head. 

Encncling sweets invite th*y dubious lip— 
Soft breezes lull thee to profound repose. 

And liquid crystal tempts thy toagae to sip. 
The dewdrop falling from the unfolding rose. 

Then speckled wanderer, while thou mayst, partake— 
Enjoy thy blessings white the power is thine ; 

For ere an hour rolls by, some hungry snake 
(For aught I know,) shall on thy carcass dine. 



TH£ N£W.J£RSEY BIBLE SOCIETY. 
No. III. 

The Society haying thus commenced this 
knponant business, and made it known a- 
broad, their Managers have been favoured 
by many communications from \'arious parts, 
with accounts of the success of diiFerent so* 
cieties founded on the like benevolent prin- 
ciples. But as the society in Xiondon has 
been founded on the largest scale, and have 
the most extensive information, their jour- 
nals are the most important. This society 
in London consists of members from a]l the 
different rehgipus denominations in the 
United Kingdoms. The Right Hon. lord 
Teignmouth is President ; and there arp fif- 
teen Vice-Presidents, thirteen of whom are 
noblemen and two members of parlimnent. 
The committee consist of thirty-six (^men 
of the first respectability, six of whom aie 
foreigners, residing in and about London, 
and meet regularly everj' month. 

There is also a general, meeting of the 
society annually on the first Wednesday of 
M«^« The constitution of the society com- 
prehends all denominations of christians, 
who profess to regard the holy scriptures as 
the pi'oper standard of rel:^oud truth* Every 



elergyman or dissenting minister who is a 
member of the society, is entitled t6 attend 
and vote at all meetinj^s of the committee. 

By means of the aids afforded by tliis 
society, 5000 copies of the German protest- 
ant New Testament have been printed, and 
disposed of by the society in Switzerland'. 
Three editions of the Bible' by standing tj^pes 
have been issued. At the same place 40CX) 
copies of the Old Testament^n French have 
been printed, and two editions of the Bible 
in the pecuKar dialects of the Grisons. 

At Berlin are printing editions of the 
Bible, in the Bohemian and Polish Dialects ; 
8000 copies of tlie Bible and 4000 of the 
New Testament. 

At Stockholm there has been one com- 
plete edition printed, and 4000 of a second 
edition has lately been finished. 

At Copenhagen there have been printed 
3000 copies of the New Testament in the 
Icelandic language, at the expense of the 
society, and tiiey have engaged in printing 
the whole Bible in the same language. 

The Missionaries among the Turks, near 
the Caspian Sea, from the society in Edin- 
burgh, have been preparing the New Testa- 
ment in the Turkish Dialect, which is verna- 
cular 4imong neaiiy thirty millions of people, 
extending from the Wolga to tlie shores of 
the Euxine Sea. The London Society has 
been at the expense of 5000 copies. 

At Sarepta, they have engaged the Mora* 
vian brethren there to begin a translation of 
the gospel of St. Matthew into the Calmuck 
Diakct ; sO that it now appears that by 
their labours, they have prompted editicwis 
of the holy scriptures in the languages of the 
Germans, Bohemians, Icelanders, Swedes, 
Poles, Lithuanians, Calmucks, Laponese, 
and Turks. In Asia, the Societ}' have actu- 
ally remitted ;f .2000 sterling, and have en- 
Siged to send ^f .3000 more for printing the 
ible in Hindostanee, Bengalee, Persian, 
Mahratta, Malayalim, Sancrit, and Chinese. 

They have given to the society in PhiLi- 
delphiaj^.200 sterling, and have furnished it 
with Bibles ia Welsh, Gaelic, French and 
German) at first cost. They have also aided 
by pecuniary assistance, the societies of 
New- York, Connecticut and Massachusetts. 
They have very ably aided ^numerous socie- 
ties m the United Kingdoms of Great Brit- 
ain, and have distributed the scriptures 
liberally to the Sunday Schools in Ireland. 
The London female penitentiary, the Bath 
ditto, tlie poor in hospitals and workhouses, 
the convents at Woolwich, Portsmouth, &c. 
The^ prisoners ih Newgate and oiher jails, 
the Refuge for the destitute German soldiers 
and seamen at Margate, at Gosport, Guild- 
ford and other pLices ; the sea Fencibles on 
the Essex Coast; the Naval and Military 
Hospitals ; the crews of Revenue Cutters, 
of the Post-Office Packets, French, Sp:mish, 
Dutch, Danish andothc: prisoners of war. 
They have sent great numbers into Southern 
Africa tor the benefit of the converted Ho- 
tentots ; to Paramaribo in Surinam ; Dema- 
rara ; the Coast of Labrador for the Ettqui- 
maux Indians ; the West Indies for tiie use 
of the christian negroes ; to the Islands of 
; Sark, Jersey^ Madeira, Sicily, Malti^ Domi 



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TUt RURAL VISITER. 



H ^ t^ w^jiAfi 



nica, Bermuda^ Jamaica^ Guadaloupe, Mar- 
tinique, Trinidad, AntJ^a, St.Thomas' and 
Prince Edwards ; to the British soldiers at 
the Cape of Good Hope, and on various 
foreign stations ; to the army, na\y and 
European inhsJiitants of the East Indies; 
to the inhabitants of Newfoundland, Canada, 
New Brunswick and Nova Scotia ; to the 
setders at Van Diemen's Land, Sierra Leo- 
ne and Goree }<o the French at St.Domingo, 
the Spaniards at Buenos Ayres, and in Old 
Spain ; to the Portuguese at Rio de Janeiro, 
and in Portugal; to the poor in Gaiicia, 
Alsace and Mecklenburg ; die Finlanders 
in Stockholm; the poor German Colonists 
on the banks of the Wolga ; to the Colonies 
of New South Wales. There are twenty- 
two associated societies to aid and assist the 
society at London, in the United Kingdoms 
of England, Scotland and Ireland* 

The society have issued in the whole, 
themselves, exclusive of those printed on 
the continent, to the 16th Februar\', 1810, 
73,116 Bibles, 151,782 Testaments; mak- 
ing in the wliole 224',898. Is not this liter- 
ally preaching the gospel in all the world, 
and thereby fulfilling the words of Christ 
himself, and proving his omtiiscience ? Well 
may it be emphatically said to every pious 
reader of this extraordinary detail, ** Go 
thou and do likewise." 

In the next number, the public may ex- 
pect accounts of the success this benevolent 
society has met with in their pious and un- 
remitted attempts to proi>agate the gospel. 



rOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

In the United States of America, where 
fuel has been so abundant and was once so 
cheap, the necessity of forming plans to eco- 
nomise it was not felt ; and hence a habit of 
profusion anH even waste, having been once 
established, has been increasingly continued 
from generation to generation. 

But as our population has increased, and 
the woods of America have been cleared 
for the purpose t>f cultivating the soil, a 
scarcity of fuel has been the consequence ; 
more especially in the extent of country con- 
tiguous to the sea coast. 

In many parts of Europe, the inhabitants 
have long since been induced to adopt plans 
for the saving of fuel ; and among the philo- 
sophical philanthropists whose talents have 
been successfully devoted to the gioseral 
|roocl, our countrj'man Count Rumford, 
av.xnds distinguished ; and it is truly pleas- 
ing to observe, that the same benevolent 
spirit influences some on this side the Atlan- 
tic i and that many citizens seem disposed 
to admit, and even to act from a conviction 
of the importance of the subject. 

Hence it is believed that an adN'antage 
vould arise to the communit)', if it could be 
r^hewnthat these improvements, instead of' 
(L pending on mere accident for their con- 
tlauance, are founded on the immutable lawa 
of nature ; a knowledge of which ought not 
to be c<infined to limited circles of those who 
make thetJi peculiar objects of study, since 



they are capable of being adapted to the 
comprehension and use of all classes of 
citizens. 

With these impressions, the writer of the 
present essay proposes to offer a few obser- 
vations on heat, and ^ts application to com- 
mon stoves- 
Heat, which is an important agent in crea- 
tion, is diffused throughout every part of it, 
and is consequently resident in all bodies. 
Cold, according to the opinion of many 
chemists, is a mere relative term, and im- 
plies nothing more than the absence of heat: 
that is, bodies only become cold as they are 
deprived of heat. It is regulated by certain 
fixed laws : but it would be fofeign to the 
present purpose to take a survey of them all. 
One however, has particular reference to 
this point, and must be considered, viz. 

Heat constantly tends to an equilibrium : 
that is, all bodies communicating freely with 
each other and exposed to inequality of ex- 
ternal action, will acquire exactly the same 
temperature : For example, if we take dif- 
ferent kinds of matter, such as heated iron, 
very cold water, wood, cork, feathers, stones, 
&c. &c. although they ^ay at first possess 
very different degrees of heat ; yet let them 
be put into the same room without fire, and 
where the sun does uot shine, the heat will 
be communicated from the hotter of these 
bodies to the colder, until they will all ac- 
quire the same temperature. 

In addition to this law it is proper to 
state, that different bodies are endowed with 
different capacities for receiving and trans- 
mitting heat ; and hence in chemistry diere 
is a distinction established between them« 
Tims some are called good, and others im- 
perfect conductors of heat ; both are wisely 
designed to subserve the most important 
purposes. 

As iron very readily receives and parts 
with heat, it is considered a good conductor, 
and is generaUy used for stoves. 

If a stove be {>bced in a cold room and 
fire be kindled in it, in consequence of the 
combustion of fuel, heat will be liberated, a 
part of it will be communicated to the plates 
of the stove, and from these to the air of the 
room in order to make it as warm as the 
heiUed stove ; and thus to fulfil that law of 
heat wluch has just been stated. 

But what becomes of the beat which 
passes into the stove pipe ? Is it not evident 
that if the draught through it be strong and 
the pipe short, a large portion of it will be 
hurried through smd be wasted f 

Some persons have availed themselves of 
the capacity of the pipe to conduct heat, by 
having it very long, which is a good prac* 
tice ; because the heat is in this manner 
detained longer in contact with the iron, and 
is permitted to pass off into the room. Others 
have advantageously conducted the pipe into 
a room above, or else to an adjacemt apart^ 
mtnt on the same floor } while others again 
have had a drum formed in it, which is very 
well calculated to enlarge the surface for the 
detention and transmission of heat; and in 
order to regulate the draught, a valrc or 
damper has been placed in the pipe. AH 
these ioafHTOvements are commendable, and 



opght to be viewed with pleasure by every 
person. 

I have been lately gratified with seeing 
a plan for the improvement of the six jjate 
stove now in use ;* an account of which I am 
informed is intended for publication in tiie 
Rural Visiter. It appears to be a simple 
and cheap contrivance to detain the heat 
within the stove^ thereby giving it sm oimor- 
tunity of escaping into the room, and pre- 
venting its being wasted ; and thus a com- 
paratively small quantity of fuel has been 
found to answer the desired purpose. 

If these observations will have a tendency 
to excite an increasing attention to this very 
important subject, the wish of the writer 
will be attained* 



1 Mo. 1812. 



MEDICUS. 



• A pltte for exhibiting this U just Kceived fVem 
the engraver J and we sbaO veiy soon present an inn 
pression of it to our readers. 



FOR THB aVRAL YISXTXR. 

AUTUMN— AN ELEGIAC ODE. 

Now cheerless Antumn*s dread control 
Bids the loud raging tempest roU, 

And w'uigs the £iving blast; 
The leafless grove is lost in gloom. 
And all the prden^s varied bloom, 

An undistinguished waste. 

InVolv'd in mists the vessels glide, 
Unseen along the surging tide. 

Whose waves with deafning loar^ 
. Lash the bare rocks, that, botdering nigh^ 
With arid summits pieitie the sky, 

And interdict the shore. 

Yet this extended joyless scene, 

Has charms to please the tool serene, « 

In calm content's abode ; 
The tran^U cot mote sweetly shows. 
The evening fire more warmly glows 

When all is storm abroad. 

For me. to hope and pleasure lost, 
In all my foadeit wishes cross'd, 

And dead to fancvht sway, 
These eyes with sad unvarying view. 
The dark portentous douds pursue. 

Of Autumn's troubled day. 

Attd when the vernal Spring shall rise. 
To deck the fiekls and gild the skies. 

And nature cease to mooru; 
Stai must my deeply sorrowing sight. 
Decline the scenes of soft delight. 

To dwell on Nisus' urn. 

O thou, ftx>m earthly scenes remov'd. 
Whom early worth by Heaven approved 

Was snaich'd from mortal woes' 
When grief eonsumes, when fears appiL 
When sick'ning cares the mind enthr^t ' 

How envied thy repose ! 

But ah ? what dear resistless ties 
Coafine my soul below the skies. 

And join to check its flight: 
Beyond, a prospect sad appears. 
Park shadowing down the v^ of ye»s» 

Invohf*d in deepest night. 

Where pleasure's fled, and youth isgotte, 
■ Where tancy's ahy dreams are flown. 

And health and strength decline. 
One only solace Heaven ordains, 
The hope to lose our cares and pains 
In that last sleep of thine. 

AATiLtoii, 



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THE AURAL VISITER. 



145 



R£FLECTIOKS» 

ON TBB AVPftOACH OF WIMTEIL 

Desponding nature droops her head» 
And shrinks before the northern bhtst ; 

The trees their leafy honovrs shed, 
And Autumn's potj fHes in haste. 

From 2emHa'« coW and dreary shores, 
BlesJE winter conies with rapid strides, 

Of stoims he brings his various stores, 
And pours tbem down the mountain t^dci. 

0, Man I behold the year decay, 
And cast a thought on seasons gone, 

Thy spirit too, must wing her way, 
To realms far distant and unknown. 

The fading glory of the year, 

Should bid thee think upon thy doom ; 
Thou canst not tell ihe day how near, 

Which lays thee in the silent tomb ! 

Winter may clothe in white the plain, 
And bind in ice the limpid stream, 

But genial Spring dispels his reign, 
And wakens Nature from her dream. 

Ah ? when thy mom of youth is fled. 
No second Spring to thee returns ; 

When age with snow shall crown thy head. 
The lamp of life but faintly bums. 

Then be preparM to meet thy God ; 

Let not thine eyes be fix'd on eurth ; 
But upward look to that abode^ 

Where love eternal claims its birth. 

Yean may in swift succession roll. 
And each its full fruition bring; 

But that immortal spark, the soul, 
SliaU flourish in perennial Spring. 



rot THB BOftAL VXSITBB. 

CX)NTENTMENT. 

on RBMOTIIIG TO THE COVHTBT. 

« » Whither, O whither art Choa fled 
To lay thy meek contented head ?" 

Why have I sought so long for thee an vain 1 
Hot town Bor country yields content t» me s 
She, like a mist, as 1 advance goes on 
M leaves me ttiil in error's maze forlorn s 
Wnntd I 8t<^>— •ibe stops— I sit me down 
find count my sorrows to the passing gale. 
^gain I rise— hope presses the pursuit, 
Knd points me to the lying shade again.— 
* There dwells content"-^ thou deceitful Hope ! 
rbat lead*st through paths of darkness and distreas 
Confidinff souls to dklappointnaent sure. 
Db ! had I left thee, and at Reason's call 
Sought out contentment where she might be found, 
Uow long ere new had I enjoyed repose- 
Hut sweet r cp e aa no guilty fears annoy. 
But ah ! when once we step aside from truth 
What mOTtid power shall circumsciibe the race ? 

V. 



SELECTED FOR THE41URAL VISITB&. 

RUINS OF M£LROS& ABQKY. 

If thou woi^ldstsee £&ir Melrose aright. 
Go view it by the pale moonlight, 
Tor the gay beams of lightsome day. 
Gild bnt to flout the ruins grav ; 
When die broken arches are dark in night. 
And each shafted oriel glimmers white. 
When the cold light's uncertain shower 
Streams on the ruined central tower ; 
When buttress and buttress alternately 
Seem firam'd of the ebon and ivory. 
When silver edges the imagery 
And the scrolls that teach thee to lire and die ! 
When d^tant Tweed is heard to rave. 
And the owlet to hoot o'er tiie dead man's grave ! 
Then go— but go alone the while, 
And view St. David's ruin'd pile ; 
And on «etmning bonne, declare— 
\ As em^JKBet sq^aid aad ivc 



HEMP. 



We arc pleased to hear from the county 
of Sussex, that great ei^ertions are making 
by the judicious farmers of that county, in 
the cultivation of hemp, on the numerous 
tracts of land in this part of our state so 
peculiarly fitted for this purpose. 

The large tract of drowned lands on the 
Walpacky in the counties of Sussex in New- 
Jersey, and Orange in New- York, is rapidly 
improving under the art of incorporation 

?aased by the legislature of the two states* 
^rom the assessment of two dollars per acre 
on the whole quantity, amounting to up- 
wards of three thousapd acres, a sum has 
been obtained which under judicious man- 
agement, will probably reduce the whole 
tract to fit order for the production of hemp* 
A single farmer in the county of Sussex, 
a Mr. Petitt, tenant of a gendemati residing 
in New- York, has this year cultivated 
twenty acres in hemp* The product he 
estimates at three tons, worth two hundred 
dollars per ton, besides one hundred bushels 
of seed, worth five dollars per bushel* 



The following essays on hempywhich we shall 
present to our readers^ are extracted from 
the American Museum. 

Hemp is capable of being cultivated on all 
kinds of land ; the poorer land producing 
the hemp finer in qusdity, diough smaller in 
quantity ; and the rankest land producing 
strong and long, though coarse ; and this 
sort being the easiest to draw and work in 
the new mode, the quantitv of manure re- 
quisite in the first instance is not above half, 
and the subsequent years not above quarter 
of that for wheat, and the hemp still improv- 
ing in quality* All the work in the new 
method, not even excepting the dressing, 
is fitter for women than men, uid may be 
practised advantageously by every cottager* 
No bleaching is wanted for the linen nuide 
of hemp prepared in the new method: and 
it is nearly certain, that if the hemp be fine, 
well managed, and dressed with the finest 
' flax-hackle, it may 8iq>ercede almost all the 
uses of flax, whidi is a more uncertain and 
less abundant crop, requires more culture 
and better land, which it exhausts ; whereas 
hemp grounds increase in goodness* If the 
male hemp, intended for coirds, has been 
treated with Uttle attention, and but little 
scoured or bleached, the shorts which come 
from it in dressbig^ may be scoured over 
again, to render them more fit for use* The 
hackle, and even the hemp itwlf, may be i, 
little oiled in the dressii^, which will much 
facilitate thatbu8ines8,and,instead of fouling, 
will rather assist in bleaching the threads, 
when they come to be washed* 

Both the dressing and spinning of hemp 
are best carried on in a damp place* Hemp 
is naturaDy incUned to twist too much in 
spinning* 

• The greatest injury that can befal hemp, 
IS that of sunbaking* But after all the great- 
est injuries th^ can be done to hemp, the 
new operation may be performed on it; 
though with lest success, yet suftciem to 



raider it better than diat which is procured 
by any other operaticm, whereof I have, at 
this moment, the proof under my eye* The . 
greatest whiteness can never be procured 
but l^ working it gre«n* If stored, the 
greener it is got in, the whiter it Will be* 
The more the colour is changed^ the woiiae 
wiU be die colour of the thread. 

Fifteen pounds of male hemp may be 
gotten off in a day by one person; only 
seven pounds of female* It is necessary to 
pick the hemp plants over at several differ- 
ent periods, m order to avoid having any 
bad stems among the good, which might 
spoil a whole parcel, especially if intended 
for fine linen* 

'Riere is great reason, from a slight s|t- 
tempt that has been made, to think that 'a 
dye might be procured from the water in 
which the hemp is scoured, after it is gotten 
off from the reed. 

It is likewise thought that an instrument 
may be imagined for drawing the reeds 
from the threads or rind, or else the rind or 
threads from the reed, more expeditiously* 
A few bundles have been cleared with a 
common rake* 

In France, it is common at the time of 
pulling the female hemp, to scatter turnip 
seeds in among the stems of the male hemp, 
which are left standing, and these turnips 
frequently produce a good deal of feed for 
sheep or cattle after the msde hemp is taken 
off. It is obvious, that whatever has this 
efiect, has, besides the benefit of supporting 
the stock of a farm, that of aiding to manure 
the hemp grounds, especially if sheep be fed 
on it ; therefore, if this mediod fail, it would 
be prudent, immediately as the hemp is off 
the ground, to plough it up, and sow turnips, 
cole-seed, rye, or any other thing proper 
for sheep feed, which can be gotten off eariy 
in the next^spring, so as to be able to till the 
land well m time for receiving the hemp 
seed* 

It is a less injury to the hemp to pull tho 
plants before they are ripe enough, than to 
leave them too long standing* . It is a less 
injur}', in soaking me hemp, to leave it tou 
long in the water, than to take it out before 
it is sufficientlv soaked* 

The more me hemp is cleansed after get- 
ting off the reed, the finer it becomes, and 
the finer dressing it requires v nothing but 
experience can mark die degrees* 

The most advantageous time to begin the 
culture of hemp on any land, is immediately 
after a crop of turnips j— exactly the same as 
if you were about to sow barley. 

The coarsest black soap, which costs iu 
France only three pence per lb* will suffice 
for making the^ids through which the hemp 
should pass* 

It is asserted from experience, that putting 
the clusters, containing the hemp seeds, to 
sweat and heat, causes many of the seeds to 
come to perfection, which, in the common 
method, would wither and become dead; 
and that it of course improves both the qoan- 
tity and qualit}- * 

The best throw with the dke is to thi-o^r 
them away. 



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146 



THfi RURAL VISITER. 



During the revolutionary war, two bro- 
thers, were commanders of privateers— they 
cruised together, and were eminently suc- 
cessful, domg great damage to the enemy, 
and making much money tor themselves. 
One evening, being in the latitude of the 
ahoals of Nantucket, but many miles to the 
eastward of them, they spied a large British 
vessel, having the appearance of a merchant- 
man, and made towards her; but to their as- 
tonishment, found her a frigate disguised. 
A very high breeze prevailing^ they hauled 
offinrfj^r^«/dircction8—— one only could 
be pursued, and the frigate gained rapidly 
upon him. Findng he coiud not run away, the 
commanding officer had recourse to strata- 
gem—on a sudden he hauled down every sail, 
and had all hands on deck, employed with 
MtttJtg' poks^ as if shoving oiF a bank ! The 
people on board the frigate were amazed at 
the supposed danger they had run, and to 
save themselves from htm^ grounded^ claxv- 
ed off and left the more knowing Yankee, 
*' to malie himself scarce,'* as soon as the 
night rendered it prudent for him to hoist 
saU \n a sea two hundred fathoms deep!* 



The croaking of the frogs in our native 
fens, is dearer far than the song of the night- 
ingale in a foreign land. 



INTELUGENCE. 



Wc would wish to present to our readers an abstract 
•f well authenticated facts, but cannot make new^— and 
the daily gazettes afford none.— There seems a gene- 
ral dearth of intelligence, particularly foreign. We 
hope it nnay not be emblematical of the calm that 
precedes a storm, when all is " hush as death," and 
•• anon. the dreadful thunder rend the spheres**— if 
howerer they banish the dove from the east, let her 
here Hnd a resting place. 

Gibraltar, Dec. 8— The Cortes of Spam have 
passed a decree, ordering the erection of a splendid 
monument in honour of their soipcreign. 

'* Ma8sena*s original report to Buoiiiq)arte, of the 
battle of Busfiaco, has been intercepted. He states 
that he had lost 3000 of his gallant fellows, and four 
generals, and acknowledged that his troops eotild not 
get possession of the twoj)otata which they attacked.. 
He bitterly complains of the want of provisioiui, and 
that the towns and villages are deserted by the inha- 
bitantt.— The enemy's men begin to desert ; they 
fly to the English by hundreds. 

" The enemy hav^ twice attempted to cross the 
Tagus, and in both instances have failed. Between 
5 and 6000 French deserters have been shipped off for 
the porta of £ngland. 

" Soult is carrying on his prej^arations against Cadiz 
3^d la I&la with the utmost activity and perseverance. 
A piece of ordnance of a new description was casting 
at Seville in November, and if it answered the wishes 
and promises of the inventors, every other work was 
to be laid aside immeciiately to pist 50 of the same 
kind. An order had been issued for building 150 gun 
boats»-50 were already coilipleted and 50 more were 
vxpected to be ready to go to sea at the beginning of 
i^\% month. Timber had aUo been sent down the ri- 
ver from Seville, for buildinf^ an immense raft, on 
which it was intended to place no fewer than 15 mor- 
tars. It was not yet known where it was to be sta- 
ined. Means were taking, at the same time, to re- 
move to the Trocadero ail the gun-boats in the river 
Saneti Petri. 

•* Accounts had been received at Ca^fu, that the 
Bulwark was to sail from Vera-Cruz in the begin- 
ning of October with seven millions of hart! dolhrs — 
4 for governiiient, and 3 for the mcrchanis^the of- 



ficial reports on the public health in that city were 
every day more and more satisfactory ; but it had 
been made known, that ' a contageous disease had 
broken out in the Isle of Teneriffe." 

We learn that the Essex frigate, arrived at L'Oricnt 
on the 5th of December, landed the messenger with 
the President's proclamation, and then proceeded 
immediately for England.— The emperor of France 
had not rescinded his Berlin and Milan decrees. 

Among late extraordinary occurrences, we note the 
following : — ' 

'* Lieut. Van lyscthxoygntz of Nova2Sembla, having 
completed his new brick house, the chimneys of which 
were constructed upon Dr. Wolga*s improved plan, 
and having welcomed his family to that commodious 
and elegant building on the morning of the 23d of 
October, unfortunately lost his wife and dinner in the 
following manner: As his wife approached the kitchen 
fire place about 11 o^clock for the first time, t6 hang 
over the fire a pot heavily loaded with beef and pork, 
the strong draught, for which Dr. Wolga's chimneys 
ar^ so remarkable, took the poor woman, pot and all, 
up the chimney, and notwithstanding diligent search 
has been made, neither of them has been seien nor 
heard of since." 

It i^ reported that war was declared against Eng- 
land, by Sweden on the 18th November. 

The Royal Cockpit, St. James* Park, so long the 
receptacle of the most cruel recreation, so long the 
resort of the cheat and of the pick-pocket, is now no 
more. The Governors and Trustees of Christ's Hos- 
pital, to whom the ground belong^, met on the spot 
the very day the lease expired, and gave directions for 
the immediate erattmcnt of the buildings. 



SOftBSTlC. 

Of the two most important subjects now before 
Congress, viz. the granting of a charter to the bank 
of the United States; and the admission of New-Or- 
leans, as another state, to the same privileges with 
the original states-^nothing conclusive can be offered : 
respecting the latter, several long and able speeches 
have been delivered ; and a motion for deferring any 
fiirther consideration of the subject relative to the 
bank for an indefinite period, was made and carried, 
65 to 64— the bank dies of course. A deputation of 
ten persons are now on their way to the seat of go- 
vernment, for the purpose of presenting a memorial 
from the merchants and traders, and one from the 
mechanics and' manufacture ri of Philadelphia, to the 
two houses of Congress, making known the ardent 
wishes of the citizens for the renewal of the chahet^— 
similar memorials are daily received from all quar- 
ters. 

The legislature of Maryland has rejected the bill to 
tax bank stock. 

The U. States schooner Revenge, Lieut. Perry, 
has been tost on a reef of rocks in L. Island sound; 
these rocks have destroyed many vessels ; " hut now, 
as a wit observes, it ap|)ears that lieut. Perry has taken 
his tevenge ujjon ibcm." 

It has been ascertained by the different commission 
•merchants of Pittsbvrgh, that the cordagfc and hemp 
transported from the places east of the Kentucky ri- 
ver, through l^ittsburgh Tor Philad. and Baltimore du- 
ring the last season, has amounted to the enormous 
sum of 1,500,000 dollars. 

On Tuesday afternoon, as Mr. Joseph Dunkley, 
one of the city Marshals, was endeavouring to execute 
a warrant ftrom the Justice's Court, on the mate of a 
vessel, lying near the New-slip, (who had previously 
arroed himself with a piitol) he was shot through 
both thighs near the groin, the ball entering in at one 
side and passing through the qther. We understand 
the person charged with the offence, is now in custo> 
dy, and that Mr. Dunkley's life is despaired of. 

IN. York Pap, 

Among the varieties of excellent town clocks in this 
part of the woHd, wo certainly possess a novel speci- 
men in this city. In enumerating its remarkable 
qualities, «e may note that of counting the hours 
with the strictest attention \o\h» public peace, until a 
proper time of night, when nothing of visible impor- 
tance ia transacting — it then strikes all the hours of 
the day, making but one job of it. 

(X^ Came to JACOB POOLE, on the 5th instant, 
FIVE. STRAY GEESE. Any person proving their 
property, and paytn'^ oqxases, \u%y have thetn on 
application. 



aesia^ 



TO CORRESPONDENTS. 



We think " A lover of Conustency*^ b^Krayt a. ciis 

regard to his motto in sending us such good flesti 
mcms in eucb a dress, as, we tear, would couatenu: 
his benevolent intentions. 

The Editor particularly regrets that the {Mece oj 
" Castle Building" has so long escaped hia atteaaioo, 
in future, while 

■* Wrapt in xuefc dreams he lays the world aside,^ 

he ehall «« snatch" an addidonal «* bliss** ttotn. tb< 
knowledge that some of his fair readets indtil^ h 
like reveries. 

We are sincerely sorry in posseising no inore tf 
Socrates* valuable maxims. 

0^ We shaU for the future give eight pages week 
ly, without any additional expense ; the two last va 
not be paged, but regularly occupied with the newa 
advertisements, &c. and may readily be earpimgd 
when the volume is bound. We advise those wb^ 
file our paper to put them one inside the oth^, witii 
a good wrapper on the outside—this will preserve 
their numbers clean and free from injuries, to whidi 
they are liable in the ordinary way ; and it baa the 
advantage of beuig more simple and easy. 



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ruay ; James Chapmany EHzabeth^Tozim ; 
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THE RURAL VISITER. 



Homo sum; humani nihil a me alientim fiuto.^^ — Jklmi and his cares to me a man^ are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, SECOND MONTH (FEBRUARY) ilth^ 1811. 



No. 29. 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XXVIIL 



• But now, yes now 



We are become so candid, and so fair. 
So liberal in construction, and so rich 
In christian charity, (good natured age) 
That they are safe, sinners of either sex 
Transgress what laws they may. 

CoWPERk 

It is not unfrequently the case, that men 
in avoiding one eiror, fall into the other 
extreme ; and mistaking the opposite of 
wrong for right, alter without amending 
their conduct. Virtue and true propriety, 
are generally foxmd in the medium, between 
the two extremes* Without attending to 
this, maxim^ so conformable to the actual 
experience of things, and to the pure deduc- 
tions of reason, some well meaning persons 
have fallen into mistakes and vices, which 
their hearts detested and their reasons con- 
demned in thbir cooler moments ; and others 
who wanted a cloak ^ to cover a mtiltitude 
of sins,** have from opposite principles and 
with different dispositions, endeavoured to 
justify their favourite vice, by inveighing 
against its contrary. Misers seize every 
opportunity to expose the evils resulting 
from profusion. The hermit who cowardly 
deserts the cares and duties produced by 
eocietv, congratulates himself that he is not 
one of tbose who depend on company and 
dissipliiien for their enjoyments and happi- 
ness. When these mistakes arise from an 
error in judgment, from the weakness of 
human reason, and its incompetencv to ar- 
rive with certainty to correct determmations 
in all cases, however we mav be induced to 
excuse or palliate a ** brother^s weakness," it 
becomej^ a most momentous duty to endea- 
vour to tear away the veil which enshrouds 
truths jmd hides it from the eyes of our fel- 
low creatures. 

There are perhaps few cases \vhere more 
positive injury arises to society from a dis- 
position of this nature, than in bestowing 
praise and commendation upon persons who 
do not merit it. In other instances more 
immediate and more obvious evils may en- 
sue 5 but their magnitude renders them per- 
ceptible, and their progress may be stopped ; 
but in this, the consequences though more 
enormous finally, creep in under such an 
imposing appearance, and with such gradual 
encroachments, that when they attract obser- 
vation, it has become difficult to impede its 
fiirther advance. We might easily in the 
first instance stop a small breach in a bank, 
but if permitted to remain, it will graduaUy 
increase, till it presents to us an obstacle al- 
,n[)ost ii^superable. . I 



There are some persons who derive plea- 
sure from destroj'ing the reputations of those 
who are elevated by general approbation ; 
from ruining the character which they have 
neither inclination nor ability to equal; ^^ and 
hate the excellence they cannot reach.*' In 
imputing to their neighbours, faults and 
crimes of which they are innocent, these 
persons gratify a most detestable and inhu- 
man disposition ; in endea\'ourin^ to place 
others in a ridiculous or contemptible situa- 
tion, a heart little less malignant is manifest- 
ed. But th« effects produced by them, 
though sometimes lamentable and grievous, 
though they fall with greater wei^t upon 
particular individuals, are neither so univer- 
se nor injurious as the consequences of the 
fault of which I am speaking. Persons who 
delight in scandal, are known as such, and 
their representations are considered lighter 
than the dust in the balance. And even when 
most successful the evil is not so radically 
demoralizing. Slander must ever have it 
in view to raise our abhorrence of a person, 
by imputinff to him vices. Our natural de- 
testation of vice is rather increased than 
weakened ; it is perverted, and directed to- 
wards an improper object, but the principle 
is exercised and strengthened. The injury 
produced is therefore confined to him whose 
character is traduced ; it is a dislike of a 
person entided to regard, from an erroneous 
impression ; it is a wrong application given 
to an honourable and virtuous feeling : the 
evil therefore can neither be general nor .per- 
manent. It must necessarily cease as soon 
as we are better informed, and during its 
continuance must be confined to a partial 
operation. The case is ^tf different when 
praise is conferred upon an undeserving per- 
son. The end in view by those who do it, 
the principle whence it flows, and the mo- 
tives ^at induce it, are frequently merito- 
rious and praiseworthy, but the conse- 
quences arc pernicious in the extreme : we 
sap and undermine the foundations of virtue. 
By bestowing praise on those who merit it, 
we add increased motives to good conduct, 
we animate and encourage those who are 
virtuously inclined to persevere in their 
laudable endeavours. The love of the appro- 
bation of our fellow creatures, must cons^ 
tute one of the most important sources of 
virtue. If this sacred fountain is polluted, 
the stream that flows from it cannot be pure. 
If instead of employing this love of praise 
in the service of virtue, of which it has ever 
been considered *as a powerful support and 
auxiliary, we rashly throw it into the oppo- 
site scale, its effects will not be dimini^d, 
though acting in a contrary direction. To 
praise a ne^an for some trifling incideniiJ 



good quality, the result of chamce, merely 
existing because it was necessary to the con- 
sistency of his charact^, or because he had 
no opportunity of evincing the opposing 
fault ; I cannot but consider as . one of the 
most effectual means of subverting the eter- 
nal barriers that separate vice from virtue. 
It leads others to expect that, some petty 
good quality may preserve them under simi- 
lar circumstances, and excites in them well 
grounded expectations of meeting with simi- 
lar mercy. Nothing operates as a more pow- 
erful incentive to vice, than a prospect of 
impunity; nothing as a more effectual re- 
straint, than a certainty of punishment. 
Mercy, when properly directed, is a noble 
qualit}', happily, I trust for aH, " it is an 
attribute of God himself;*' but when abused 
it loses its characterisuc property of a virtue, 
and descends to be a pander to vice. Every 
criminal action which is not punished, adds 
an additional incitement to vice ; everv word 
of praise bestowed upon the undeserving has 
the same tendency ; ever}' crime which is 
pardoned without evident symptoms of re- 
morse, regret and desire of amendment, is 
an injury to society at large. It is a maxim 
founded oti the strong basis of reason, and 
confirmed by the constant experience of con- 
secutive ages that ''^ qui parcit malis, nocet 
bonis,** he who spares the guilty injures the 
innocent. Between vice and virtue, there 
can exist no agreeihent, there should exist 
no toleration ; they are fundamentally and 
radically hostile to each other; they have 
no common point of union ; and the lines of 
distinction between them should be kept 
open, marked and obvious. 

Those persons who have ever been re- 
garded as the most dangerous enemies to 
religion and morality have pursued the line 
of conduct now reprobated. The virulence 
of their hatred, and the warmth of their 
animosity to virtue, were never manifested 
in an open opposition. Their insidious policy 
was crafty, subtle and artful : they endea- 
voured to throw a veil over the criminal 
parts of a man*s character, and to blazon 
forth his virtues however few ; to represent 
the former as merged in the latter, and 
obliterated; ^ the brilliancy of the sun con- 
ceals from common observation the spots 
that contaminate his brightness. 

My obgect, I trust, can neither be misin- 
terpreted nor misunderstood. I am no ad- 
vocate for those who, lynx-eyed, search for 
the foibles and faults of others, and display 
them to die world ;• or of those who without 
occasion, are dragging from obscuritj' indi- 
viduals whose defects might have remained 
unnoticed and unknown : neither do I mean 
toextcUviate the conduct of those who make 
Digitized by ._^ 



U3 



THE RURAL VISIT«:R* 



persons the subject of conversation, that 
tKey may have an opportunity to indulge 
their malice and hatred ; nor am I a defender 
of slanderers. All such persons I hold m 
utter abhorrence. I wish merely to point 
out a fault which is pregnant with much evil ; 
which is doubly dangerous since it comes 
under the imposing name of charity, whose 
cloak it assumes. It is this false appearance 
which has given it that currency, which 
arrayed in its proper garb, it never would 
have obtained. Q* 



FOR THB BVRAL VISITMl. 

THE WREATH. 
Aa offering to the Spirit of P,oetry. 

Oh! take the wreath— 'twas framed for thee, 

From many a brilHafit blos&om. 
That fancy, roving, stole for Tne» 

From May's ambrosial bosom. 

With myrtle flow'rs the jasmine twines, 

To form the blooming border f 
And daffodils and eglantines. 

Mingle in gay disorder* . 

And here its eye of softest blue, 

Spring's favourite flow'r uncloies: 
Ancf sparkling with the morning dew» 

.May wreaths her early roses* 

And ev'ry flow'r that sheds perfume 

O'er the mead, or on the monntain. 
Or bathes its breast of brilliant bloom, 

In the flood, or o'er the fountain. 

All. an commingling here are seen ; 

Each wild delightful blossom. 
That paints the nch and blooming green. 

Of May's ambrosial bosom. 

And since Che blush of early light, 

I've kept each blossom steeping. 
In scented dew-drops, warm and bright, 

1 shook from roses, wdeping. 

Oh ! take the wreath— 'twas framfRl for thee. 

From many a brilliant blossom, 
That Fancy, roving, stole for nrje, 

From May's ambrosial bosom. 

Here blooming still each flow'ret's seen, 

That time in vain breathes over; 
Blossoms that deck the eternal gr^n 
Of Twick'nam's flow'ry border : 
And such as by Avona straying. 
The youthful Shakespeare plucked, aJ^yhig. 

And here still blooms the crimsoned flowV/ 
That Scotia's bard in luckless hour, 
Chanc'd from its parent bed to sever, 
To bloom in his fair fame forever. 

And wildly scatter'd o*er the whole, 

The glowing wreath discloses; 
Fresh from the flowing, foaniy bowl, 

Anacreon's breathing roses.f 

And o'^ the wreath's rich dress of green. 

Sparkles I've strew'd, so beaming, 
As none but poets e'er have seen. 

And only seen when dreaming. 

Oh! take the wreath— 'twas fram'd for thee. 

From many a brilliant blossom, 
That Fancy, roving, stole for me. 

From May's ambrosial bosom. H. W. 

• The mountain daisy. 

f The rose was the favourite flower of Anacreon, 
tind often, in a flt of poetical delirium, he describes 
t> ♦• fresh from the foamy bowl.** 



SOJOURNER. 

No. IX* 

A new errornot better than an old one. 

It is not uncommon for persons who lay 
claim to a more than usual share of under- 
standing, to exclaim against their plain 
neighbours for their attachment to old opi- 
nions and customs, and for their not readily 
assenting or conforming to new ones* I 
confess I can no more see the reasonableness 
than the modesty of this censure ; unless 
these majesterial instructers could show the 
charter by which they are enfranchised from 
the shackles of doubt in a lawful way^ and 
thus duly qualified in all cases to draw the 
line between incredulity and caution, for 
tbeh" less favoured neighbours. When we 
admit that a new truth is better than an old 
error, we grant enough : it does not foUov, 
that a new error is belter than an old truth, 
or even that it is better than an old error. 
Or is it taken for granted by those zealots 
for innovation, that every new proposition 
is a new truth? Until we be satisfied of this, 
let us not be displeased with others for pay- 
ing a proper deference to opinions and cus- . 
toms which have the sanction of time and 
long experience. To withheld our assent to 
a new doctrine, after its claim to our belief 
has been confirmed by experience and due 
investigation, may betray a culpable attach- 
ment to preconce'tved notions ; but surely no 
person of candour and judgment can blame 
me for adhering to an opinion or custom 
which has been proved, both in my own 
experience, and in that of my predecessors 
to be productive of more good than evil, 
rather than hastily adopt a new custom or a 
new opinion, for the propriety of which I 
have only the dogmatical assertion of my 
neighbour. For my part, I think this reluc- 
tance of the human mind to part with ancient 
opinions, not only excusable, but fraught 
with advantages* It is perhaps one of the 
most benefici^ laws of our nature. If, on 
the one hand, it renders the progress of 
truth more slow ; it tends, on the other, to 
give it stability when once received, and to 
prevent it from being so readily exchanged 
for those ephemeral notions, by which Biis 
age of reason will be rendered the jest of 
the age of common sense* 

Some points there arc of such nmiversal 
concernment, and on the truth or falsehood 
of which the happiness or misery of the 
human race so much depends, that were the 
mind thus disposed so readily to quit its 
hold upon the ^tar ofantiquit}',andto grasp 
after every specious appearance of truth, 
which the magic glass of sophistry can so 
easily present, all stability in the principles 
of human action would soon be at an end ; 
and this -world of man would present a chaos 
more dreadful than that ** over which pri- 
meval darkness spread his wings." 

Mean time truth has nothing to fear from 
deliberate inquiry; even opposition tends 
only to confirm it ; and I doubt whether a 
single instance can be found upon record, 
wherein a truth, whether relating to natural, 
moral, or ^iritual Aings^ which has been 



fully demonstrated to the satisfaction of 
kind, has ever afterwards been whoUy losf ; 
or, on the odier hand, whether any error 
which has been satisfactorily confuted^ has 
ever again been completely reinstated in the 
suffrages of the well informed part of the 
communi^. Some indeed will perhaps al- 
ways find It their interest or their amusement ! 
to perplex the most obvious truths wiUi sub- 
tilties, the creatures of their own imagina- 
tions ; yet these sophisms, if traced to their 
first principles, will there be found to invrfve 
propositions untenable upon the ground of 
experiences the feundation upon which all 
real knowledge of truth must uhimateh/ rest. 
There is an incongruity of parts in error, 
which naturally tends to the dissolution of 
the system ; and in truth, a purity and sim- 
plicity which render it permanent. So that, 
though truth and error may for a time appear 
to be confounded ; yet ** the etherial mould, 
incctpable ofstcdn^ will soon or late ** purge 
off'tne baser fire victorious." 

May we not then justly suspect ifaat those 
quack philosophers, who would have us to 
swallow their nostrums without daring to 
mquire irto their mgredients, are actuated 
by sinister views ; or at least that tiiey are 
not so much the friends of man and ifftifh^ 
as they would have Us believe* 



FOK TH£ KUKAh VISITI^* 

The disputed point, whether the so\d ^i'Ct 
sleeps, has such adherents on each side;, as 
to render it not an easy or a desirable task to 
give one's own decision. To i^culate on 
diis point is not now intendjcd* However 
strenuously the constant action of the mind, 
or its occasional inten^als of rest may be 
contended for, it is believed that few, if any, 
will deny that there are seasons iji which 
the current of thought is not directed 4nr the 
will?— times when the subject gn which our 
thoughts are employed is hot selected, nor 
the chain of thought pursued by ^y percepti- 
ble exertion of our mental faculties. Vari- 
ous appellations have been appropriated to 
designate this state of existence. Musing, 
mental absence, reverie, are epithets some- 
umes used : but a title which seentis to he 
more descriptive, and consequendv better, 
is, the period of " waking dreams r a sub- 
ject to which the few foUowing remarks win 
be devoted. 

" The theme though hamble, yet august snd ptofqd 
The eoe»ioii-^or the fair demands the soiig.^ 

Fancy, that goddess of indefinable cha- 
racter, seems to be more engaged in the 
pri)ductions of things of this nature, than 
the other mental facuhies. There are un- 
doubtedly but very few people, who do not 
feel conscious of occasionally spending some 
moments in the employment of building 
castles mentally : and I shall be in no fear 
of finding none to concur with me in declar- 
ing that there is scarcely any employment or 
relaxation of the mind more completely 
enticing. The person who has not at times, 
found himself to have been unconsdously 
occupied by a train of involuntary thought— 

Digitized by _^ 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



y pp H i n »* y 



*^<^fcM 



149 



tAi^ has never been borne on the pinions of 
ratecy, into regions where reason never tra- 
^^Midy must nave a mind differently consti- 
tuted from that of the generality of his fellow 
mortals. The ftged, the ejqperienced, who 
bave gone the round of tirorldly pleasure, 
and proved Aeir vanity^ are not, probably, 
so mixch given to this sort of mental amuse- 
ntient ; but in the halcyon days of youth, 
Trhile the cares of future life are but just 
risible beyond the extended horizon of plea- 
sure which encircles us, while we are yet 
too inexperienced to reason much on futu- 
rity, we find an ahemative in giving rein to 
fancy. There unquestionably are times in 
the life of every one, when either through a 
dislike of c(»ite'mplating gloomy realities^ or 
froni an unwillingness to rack the mind by 
the investigation of abstract truth, or mazy , 
science, a disposition is felt for resigning 
one's self to the enjoyment of those more 
blandishing scenes Which the rainbow pencil 
of fan^ is ever ready to paint. It is then 
wefbrin plans for future life*— arrange events 
as we wish they would happen-— indulge in 
all the imaginary pleasures with which crea- 
Ifive fancy delights to amuse us— -mak« our- 
selves such characters as we wish to be— 
give up ourselves entirely to the pleasing 
delusion* — ate lost to the scenes really a- 
round us, and actually experience " waking 
dreams.'' How hard to bre^ the soft en- - 
chantment-— we regret the accident that dis- 
pels it : as when wiiking from a transport- 
ing dream, we endeavour in vain to com- 
pose ourselves to sleep, and renew the 
transient gleams of joy : and are much more 
fond of continuing to enjoy imaginary de- 
light, than of waking to realities less brilliant 
that! the fatbrications of our fancy. Does 
the person live who cannot recollect to what 
a pitch, of happiness his unrestrained fancy 
has at dtnes carried him ? who cannot recol- 
lect times in which uncurbed imagination 
has placed him in situations more delightful 
than cold deliberating reason could have 
devised. 

*' There is in souls a sympathy with 
sounds,'*^ and not less in scenes: hence ^e 
reason why the/close of day, in picturesque 
or beautiful scenery, is so universally apt to 
weave around the neart that net of softened 
sensibility which so completely holds it : the 
nobler powers of the man seem gone— his 
passions and feelings are refined K) excess — 
he becomes unconscious of surrounding ob- 
jects— -«carce feels that he exists. 

Will it be thought the part of a misan- 
thrope to hint that these pleasures of the 
fancy are but the gilded poisons of the mind 
•—will it be thoufi^t that he who bears his 
testimony against them is attempting to a- 
bridge even the few pleasures of life? It may 
be, but certainly not with justice. Fancy 
^eems at perpetual variance with reason : yet 
it is by following the deductions of reason a- 
loue that we are to seek terrestrial happiness. 
All !true sources of rational happiness will 
bear to be made the suhjecr of conversation, 
and win rather gain than lose by the paitici- 
patioQ of our friends. But we never attempt 
communicating to a friend the pleasure we J 
ourselvttt experience tii^ castle building : 'it f 



cannot be done ; it is a pleasure thus to em- 
ploy the fancy} but it is a pleasure which 
will not bear to be transplanted from one 
mind to another : it is a pkasure— -but of too 
evanescent a nature to be the object of desire 
or the source of good. 

P. SFORZA. 



FOa THE RURAL VZSXTER. 

Mr. Editor. 
The following lines were written oh the receipt of * 
letter from an esteemed friend, who was taken iU 
at the house of a widow lady in one of the southern 
states; and to whose kind attention^, aided by those 
of her amiable daughter, he innputes his recovery. 
Judging, by the tenor of his cdtnmunication, I have 
ventured to express the sentiments of the last stanza 
with the wannth of a fixed attachment :— For, if 
•* pity is akin to love,'* gratitude is a near relative. 
—The simplicity of the piece, indicates, that it is^ 
but the unadorned effusion of a grateful heart. 

When buried deep in thought 

By various ills opprest, •* 

In friendship's balm I sought 

For peace and quiet rest ; 

' Sweet friendship's balm I found. 
And dose the cordial prest 
Upon the bleeding wound 
Which rankled in my breast. 

A female's tender heart 

As pity's angel kind. 
Relieved me IVom thd smart 

Of an afflicted mind. 

As afary minstrels soft-« 

In beauty's charms array'd* 
The lovely damsel oft 

Has bound my aching head. 

Then let me not in vain» 

Affection's truth to prove. 
Attempt in tender strain 

To wake the notes of love.— 



Still, thou fair guardian, still be kind- 
Still thy mild influence impart ; 

StiQ, when distrest, my temples bind, 
And reign— the empress of my heart. 

EDWARD. 



To the Editor of the Rural Vititer, 
DOROTHY'S LAMENT. 

When lightly I rov'd with my heart free from care. 
And enjoyM the calm pleasures of lifeV early mom, 

Then fancy's gay dreams rose unclouded and fair. 
And I pluck'd the wild rose, but I felt not its thorn. 

Yet I found that not long would continue this scene, 
That fancy's wiki magic not always could cheer ; 

That troubles and cares would alike intervene. 

And the sweet smile of comfort be chang'd to a 
tear. 

But the sunshine of hope now illumin'd my breast. 
And with calm resignation my path I pursued. 

Contentment came smiling and lulVd n.e to rest. 
After all the sharp scenes of distress I had view'd. 

The Temple of Fame 1 had long had in view. 

And I wished for some kind one my steps to be- 
friend; 

Then with faithful reliance I applied unto you. 
But found you unwilling assistance to lend. 

Without any remorse you've condemn'd me to go, 
And wait on «* Au Exile** you've so hardly treated, 

To share with the suffVer his journey of woe. 

And ne'er hear our names by the wise ones repeated. 

With the sweets of the rose now again I must part. 
And feel the thorn sharper than I felt it before 

Even hope's fmg'riDg beams cease to comfort my 
heart, . 

And when you receive ^is» f ou1l hear I'm no more. I 



The following is from the pen of Heniy Kirke White? 
which must prepossess every reader m favour of his 
talents as a poet >-" he was a young man of trans- 
cendent abilities and was the son of a butcher (of 
Nottingham, England"— was for some time a stu- 
dent at law and distinguished himself by his poet- 
ical writings— He died of a pulmonary complaint ar 
the age of twenty-one year3*->since which time se- 
veral editions of his prodiKttons have met with the 
most flattering reception.— We are happy to see 
them announced for'publieation by J. & A. V. l^i^xA- 
phreys, of Philadelphia. 

MELANCHOLY. 

There is a charm no joys bestow. 

Nor rank, nor wealth impart ;— 
*Tis when the tear Is stealing slow. 

And softly sighs the heart. 
Oft have I watch'd the evening sky, 

Where rose the siWte bow ; 
My bosom heav'd, I knew not why. 

And tears began to flow ! 
O then I thought that mirth was folly— 
Thine was the charm— sweet meUnchpl/. 

Yc hearts of atone, who think no bKss 

Can glisten in a tear ; 
Who think the love that sighs a kiss 

Insipid and severe; 
Ah ! ne'er was tum'd on you, ye polbd. 

The dew'd and tender eye— 
The warmest love that e'er was told, 

Was breath'd upon a sigh. 
Mirth is deceit, and laughter folly \ 
Bliss wafts the sigh of melancholy. 



Selected from the Weekly Monitor. 

ADVICE TO A YOUNG MAN ON HIS 
ENTRANCE INTO LIFE. 

Never did the inspired king of Israel de- 
liver a sentence more full of the wisdom of 
Heaven,- than when he told the young man 
to " Remember his Creator in the days qfkis 
youth.^ We find this admonition in the 
concluding chapter of the works of Solomon* 
He seems to have reserved it as a maxim of 
the utmost importance, and selects it as a 
final effort to persuade the tender mmds of 
the young. It may be justly regarded as 
his dying advice, his last legacy to the rising 
generation. To him, who is ip the sweet 
morning of life, it is more precious than 
rubies. If he would be happy, here or here- 
after ; if he would grow in grace as he grows 
in stature, and find favour in the sight both 
of God and man ; let him ponder the words 
of this wise king ; let him bind them about 
his neck, and write them on the tablet of 
his heart. 

*' The virgin innocence of the mind,'* says 
a fine writer, *' is a sacriike more accepta- 
ble to the Almightj', than if we should come 
before him with the cattle upon a thousand 
hills, and with ten thousand^ of rivei's of 
oil." Yes, my young friends ! it must be 
so : and let it animate your noblest exer- 
tions. Most assuredly, if on this lower 
world of weakness and imperfection, there 
be one object worthy of the joy of angels, 
and on which the Deity himself looks do^i'n 
with a smile of complacency, it must be that 
of a young man resisting tbe urgent solicii!^- 
tions of passion, and iljnng from the charms 
of the syren pleasure; strug^ifling to presei^'e 
the narrow path of rectitude ; yieldin;^ to 
religion, a heart uxi^educ$:d by the world, 



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and flowing with all £he generous feelings 
of truth and honour ; and presenting both 
his soul and body a lovely and blameless 
offering, at the altar of his God. 

A mournful conviction of the dangers to 
which youth is exposed, has directed my 
clK)ice of the subject of this day*s Monitor : 
and I lay before my young readers, with 
feelings of affectionate concern, the follow- 
ing excellent address to a young man, from 
the works ©f a late writer** May it restore 
to the path of virtue some thoughtless wan- 
derer, and fix the seal of goodness on some 
youthful breast! — I cannot, I would not, 
conceal my anxiety on the subject. The vete- 
ran knows the perils of the war— our fears 
are. not for him — ^but who does not tremble 
with apprehension, when the young soldier 
first marches to the field i For the experi-^ 
enced pilot we feel no alarm : but, when the 
young mariner embarks, we would, if it 
were possible, bribe the elements in his fa- 
vour, and our hearts send up to Heaven a 
voluntary prayer for his safety and success. 

" I will suppose,** says this excellent mo- 
ralist, '* a young man present, who has 
passed through the forms of a liberal educa- 
tion at school ; and who is just entering on 
the stage of life, to act his part according to 
his own judgment. I will address him, with 
all the affection and sincerity of a parent, in 
the following manner : 

** You have violfent passions implanted in 
you by nature, for the accomplishment of 
her purposes ; but conclude not, as many 
have done to their ruin, that because they 
are violent, they are irresistable ; the same 
nature which gave you passions, gave you 
also reason, and a love of order. Keligion, 
added to the light of nature and the experi- 
ence of mankind, has concurred in establish- 
ing it as an unquestionable truth, that the 
irregular or intemperate indulgence of fhe 
passions is always attended with pain, in 
some mode or other, which greatly exceeds 
its pleasure. 

" Your passions will be easily restrained 
from enormous excess, if you really wish, 
and honesdy endeavour to restrain them : 
but the greater part of young men study to 
inflame their fury, and give them a degree 
of force which they possess not in a state of 
nature. They run into temptation, and de- 
sire not to be delivered from evil* They 
knowingly and willingly sacrifice to momen- 
tary gratifications the comfort of all which 
should sweeten tl^ remainder of life. Be- 
gin, thetty. with most sincerely wishing to 
conquer those subtle and powerful enemies, 
whom you carry in your bosom. Pray for 
Divine assistance. Avoid solitude the first 
moment a loose thought insinuates itself, 
and hasten to the company of those whom 
you respect. Converse not on subjects which 
lead to impure ideas : have courage to de- 
cline reading immoral books, even when 
they fall into your hands. If, at a proper 
*gc^ you form a strong attachment to a vir- 
tuous wpman, dare with the sanction of pa- 
rental approbation, to marrj^ It is better 
to be poor than wicked. Cherish the objec| 

* Knox*& Ess^s. 



of your ^early love. Be industrious, and 
trust in Providence. 

" Thus will you avoid the perpetual tor- 
ments of unruly affection, and the thousand 
penalties of selfish celibacy. Thus will you 
please God, and your own heart, if it be a 
^od one, and displease none, but an iU- 
judging and wicked world. 

" But, really, ybu have not so much to 
fear from the violence of those affections, as 
from vanitj'. The perverse ambition of ar- 
riving at the character of a man of spirit, 
by vicious audacity, has of late universally 
prevailed, and has ruined a great part of the 
rising generation. From motives of vanity, 
health and peace are sacrificed, fortunes 
lavished without credit or enjoyment, every 
relative and personal duty neglected, and 
religion boldly set at defiance. 

'* I have known many young men boastr 
ing of misfortunes which are attended with 
the greatest pain and misery, and ought to 
be accompanied with shame. For more 
have taken pains to shine, amidst the little 
circle of their vicious acquaintance, in the 
character of gay libertines, than to acquire 
hy useful qualities, the esteem of the good. 
To be admitted into the company of those 
who are superiour to them in fortune and 
condition, thousands plunge into debauchery 
without passion, into drunkenness without 
convivial enjoyment, into gaming without 
the means or inclination for play. Old age 
r^idly advances. When vanity at length 
retreats from insult and from mortification, 
avarice succeeds ; and meanness, and dis- 
ease, and disgrace, and poverty, and discon- 
tent, and despair, diffuse clouds and dark- 
ness over the evening of life. 

" Have sense and resolution enough, 
therefore, to give up all pretensions to those 
titles of a fine fellow, a rake, or whatever 
vulgar name the temporary cant of the vici- 
ous bestows on the distinguished libertine. 
Preserve your principles, and ba steady in 
your conduct, and though your exemplary 
behaviour may bring upon you the insulting 
and ironical appellation of a saint, a puritan, 
or even a methodist, persevere in rectitude. 
It will be in your power soon, not indeed to 
insult, but to pity. Have spirit and display 
it. But let it be that sort of spirit, which 
urges you to proceed in the path in which 
you were placed by the faithful guide of 
your infancy. Exhibit a noble superioriU' 
in daring to disregard the artful and mali- 
cious reproaches of the vain, who labour to 
make you a convert to folly, in order to keep 
them in countenance. They will laugh at 
first, but esteem you in their hearts even 
while they laugh ; and in the end they will 
revere your virtue. 

" Let that generous courage, which con- 
scious rectitude inspires, enable you to de- 
spise and neglect the assaults of ridicule. 
When all other modes of attack have failed, 
ridicule has succeeded. The bulwark of 
virtue, which stood firmly against the wea- 
pons of argument, has tottered on its basis, 
or fallen to the ground, touched by the wand 
of magic Ridicule, in the school, in the 
college, in the world at large, it is the pow- i 
erful engine which is used to level an ex- » 



alted character* You will infallibty be at- 
tacked by it, if you are in many respects 
singular; and singular in many respects 
you must be, if you are eminently virtuous. 

^^ Love truth, and dare to speak it at all 
events. The man of the worid will tell you, 
t/ou must dissemble — and so you must, if 
your objects and pursuits are liice his, mean 
and selfish* But your purposes are gene- 
rous, and your methods of obtaining them 
are, therefore, imdisguised. You mean 
well.—- Avow your meaning, if honour re- 
quires the avowal, and fear nothing. You 
will, indeed, do right to wish to please ; but 
you will be anxious to please the worthy- 
only— ^nd none but worthy actions will effect 
that purpose. 

" With all your good qualities unite the 
humility of a christian* . Be not morose. Be 
cautious of overvaluing yourself. Make 
allowance for the vices and errors which you 
will daily see. Remember that all have not 
had the benefit of instruction ; that a g^eat 
part of mankind are, in effect, orphans turn- 
ed loose into the wide world, without one 
faithful friend to give them . advice ; left to 
find their own way in a dark and rugged 
wilderness — with snares and quicksands, 
and chasms around them« Be candid, there- 
fore, and among all the improvements of 
education, and refinement of manners, let the 
beautiful christian graces of meekness and 
benevolence shine most conspicuous. Re- 
lieve distress, prevent mischief, and do good 
wherever you can ; but be neither-ostenta- 
tious nor censorious. 

" Be cheerful, and gratefully enjoy the 
good which Providence has bestowed upon 
vou. But be moderate. Moderation is the 
law of enjoyment—all beyond is nominal 
pleasure and real pain. 

" I will not HHiltiply my precepts. Choose 
good books, and follow their direction. — 
Adopt religious, virtuous, manly principles. 
Fix them deeply in your bosom, ana let 
them ^o with you, unloosened and unaltered, 
to the grave/' 



SBLECTBO rOft THB &UJIAL VISITBH. 

AN ADDRESS TO WINTEll. 

Oh Winter \ mler of th' inverted year, 
Thy scattered hair, with sleet like ashes iilt'd, 
Thy breath congeal'd upon thy lips, thy cheeks 
Fring'd with a beard, made white with other snovvs 
Than those of age ; thy forehead wrapt In clouds, 
A leaDess branch thy sceptre, and thy throne 
A sliding car, indebted to no wheels, 
But urg*d by storms along its slippery way; 
I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st^ 
And dreaded as thou art ! Thou hold*5t the sun 
A pris^)er in the yet undawning east, 
Short'ning his journey between morn and nooqt 
And hurrying him, impatient of his stay, 
Down to the rosy west j but kindly, still 
Compensating his loss witli added hours 
Of social converse, and instructive ease ; 
And gathering at short notice, in one group, 
The family dispers'd, and fixing thought, 
Not less dispers*d by day light and its cares. 
I crown thee king of intimate delights, 
Fire side enjoyments, home bom happiness. 
And all the comforts that the lowly roof 
Of undisturbM retirement, aiid the hours 
Of long uninterrupted evening, know. 
No rattling wheels stop short before these gatea 
1^0 powder'd pert {^ficient in the art 



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THE RURAL VISITER- 



151 



Oi sounding an alarm assaults these doors 

TUl the street rings ; no stationary steeds 

Cough their own knell, while, heedless of the sound* 

The silent circle fan themselves and auake : 

But here the needle plies. its busy task, 

The pattern grows, the well depicted flower, 

Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn, 

Unfolds its bosom ; buds, and leaves, and sprigs, 

And curling tendrils^ gracefully dispos'd) 

FoUow the nimble finger of the fair ; 

A wreath that cannot fade, of flowers that blow 

With most success, when all besides decay* 

The poet's or historian's page, by one 

Mode vocal for the amtrsemrnt of the rest; 

The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet sounds. 

The touch, from many a trennbling chord shake$ out ; 

And the clear voice, symphonious, yet distinct. 

And in the charming strife tnumphant still, 

Beguile the night, and set a keener edge 

On iemal^ industry ; the threaded steel 

Flies swiftly, and unfelt, the task proceeds^ ^ 

The volomc dos*d, the customary rites 

Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal; 

Such as the mistress of the world once found 

Delicious, when her patriots of high note. 

Perhaps by moon light, at their humble doors, 

And under an old oak*s domestic shade, 

Enjoy'd— spare feast ! a radish and an e^. 

Discourse ensues, not trivial^ yet not dull. 

Nor such as with a fiown, forbids the jjlay 

Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirth: 

Kor do we madly, like an impious world. 

Who deem reHgion frenzy, and the God 

That made them, an intruder on their joys. 

Start at his awful name, or deexh his praise 

A jarring note. Themes of a graver tone, 

Exciting oft our gratitude and love, 

While we retrace, with memory's painting wand. 

That calls the past to our exact review^ 

llie dangers vre have *scap^d« the broken snare, . 

The disappointed foe, deliv'rance foqnd 

Unlook'd fcr, life preserv'd and peace restor*d— 

Fruits of omnipotent etemaTlove. 

(Ml evenings, worthy of the gods ! exdaim'd 

The Sabine bard. Oh evenings, I reply. 

More to be priz'd and coveted than yours. 

As more 3lttmin*d» and with nobler truths. 

That 1 and mine, and those we love, enjoy. 



The new mode of cultivating and dressing 
Hemp. 

It is sufficiendy known, that land intended 
for a crop of hemp, must be well manured, 
well ploughed, cleansed, and gotten fine.— 
The season being arrived, (which varies 
much according to the soil, weather, and 
conveniency of the cultivator, extending 
from die 35th of March to the 15th of June,) 
sow the hemp seed, which ought always to 
be new seed, thin, not exceeding two bush- 
els to an acre, and if you have the advantage 
I of a drill plough, still lees will do. .After 
the l^id is sown, go through the whole with 
A shovel, and with it make litde paths at sev- 
en feet distance from each other, the length- 
way of your piece; so that at the proper 
season you may reach the female hemp, 
which you will have occasion to pull out, 
without trampling on the male, which must 
stand at least a month longer, to ripen its 
seed. The female hemp, (that which bears 
only flowers and no seed) is known to be 
ripe by the flowers fading, tlie farina foecun- 
dans falling, and some of the stems turning 
yellow. You must then draw out carefully 
the whole of the female hemp, breaking as 
I'ttle as possible the stems of what you take, 
or what you leave. 

Immediately as it is gathered, take it in 
as large handfuls as you can> and either cut- 
ting the roots off, or leaving them on, as you 



like best, (I prefer cutting theip off;) hold 
the root end uppermost, and with a wooden 
sword dress off the flower and leaves, which 
you leave on the field, since they assist in 
manuring. Pick out any weeds or spoiled 
plants ; put twelve handfuls together to make 
a l)undle ; then lay tlie bundles in water : 
which ought to be a running and clear water, 
and if shaded and overhung with trees, the 
better. Lay poles, or planks, or whatever 
else you have, that is suitable, across, a 
large number together, so as to keep them 
at least two inches under water. Take par- 
ticular notice which you lay in first, and how 
you lay the bundles, that you may be able 
to get them out again successively as they 
were laid in without breaking or tangling. 
At the end of six days, visit the hemp, and 
see whether the reed will draw out from 
some of the bundles. The time required 
for soaking depends very much on the na- 
ture of the hemp, the weather, and the wa- 
ter it is soaked in — from six days to nine, or 
even eleven. It is a trouble that is not ill 
bestowed, to sort the hemp for soaking^ if 
it be of unequal sizes — the slenderest gene- 
rally requiring most soaking. 

When you find any quantity sufficiently 
soaked, take it with care, putting the hands 
under it to prevent breakage, and transport 
it to a trough or to a table ; for there- are 
two methods of working it. If you work it. 
in a trough, you must be provided with one 
somewhat longer than any hemp that you 
mean to work in it — ^twelve or fourteen in- 
ches deep,, suid of what width you think pro- 
per, according to the number of persons you 
employ at it, as one, two, or four. To this 
trough must be fitted two pieces of plank, of 
about a foot length, but ot such width as to 
stretch over a bundle of the hemp as it lies 
opened in the water : these planks must be 
set on one aide with teeth of brass wire, and 
when the hemp is ready for drawing, must 
be laid on it as it lies in the water to keep it 
straight and immerged. 

(To be continuedm^ 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

HISTORY OF ALVIRA. 

A TALE OF TRUTH. 

CHAPTER r. 

In Nova Csesarea, on the banks of Beaver 
Creek, there once lived a venerable and pi- 
ous man, called Jacob. I do not say that he 
was a complete likeness of the Patriarch, the 
son of Isaac j for though he resembled the 
latter in some things, in others he was di- 
rectly the reverse. He, like the Patriarch, 
feared his God and obeyed his commands- 
offered up his morning and evehing sacri- 
fice, with his household collected Ground 
him — sometimes wresded with the angel of 
the covenant, and prevailed — ^poured forth 
his holy oil on the rock at Bethel, on the 
Sabbath, and was a ruler in Israel. 

He had, however, but one wife j the wife 
of his choice ; the companion of his youth ; 



the conifort and associate of his declining 
years ; who had borne him no sons, but was 
the mother of four amiable claughters, in 
each of v/hom the father saw reflected, more 
or less, his own image. The youngest, na- 
med Alvira, was however, a more complete 
portrait of her too raucli. doatlng father. — 
She was the child of his old age, the daug^i-^ 
ter of his right hand j and, had not the ex- 
ample of the imprudent and mourning Pa- 
triarch prevented the fond parent, she would 
have worn the party-coloured garment, to - 
the no small grief of her fair sisters. The 
excessive partiality of the father being go- 
verned by the law of prudence, did not ex- 
cite the jealousy of Lavina, Henrietta, or 
Sophia, the other three daughters of this 
best of men. On the contraiy, they loved 
Alvira, and considered her as the pride and 
glory of their family. They im^jj^ed that 
they saw in her comely height,^^lsy man- 
ners, bright sparkling eyes, hand&toie face, 
and ready wit, something that must com-- 
mand respect from the worthy and' good — 
a respect, by which they would not sink but 
rise in the opinion of the world. They did 
not even hope to equal their younger sister 
in an ad\'antageous marriage and consequent 
honour and hsq>piness : but they expected 
that a portion of her dignity would be re- 
flected cm them^ as her sisters ; and raise 
them in the opinion of the wise and discern- 
ing part of the communit}\ It was thus the 
bands of harmony were strengthened ; while 
alternate smiles and kind words, sure pledges 
of the tenderest affection, were exchanged. 
Happy sifters ! happy in- the company and 
conversation of each other, because each had 
early learned to consider the joys and sor- 
rows of the other as her own ! 

Jacob was possessed of an ample fortune ; 
part of which he inherited from his fiather, 
and the remainder he had added by his own 
industry and good economy. No one, about 
his house, was indulged in idleness, which 
is the parent of many a vice, and is usually 
followed by pinching pover^. The daugh- 
ters were taught, by their kmd mother, the 
ordinary business of the more expensive 
farm houses, and were not ashamed to be 
seen milking the cows at the proper hour ; 
or, in rotation, to attend to the affairs of the 
kitchen* In their childhood they had attend* 
ed the country school, where they had learn- 
ed all that is usually taught in such semina- 
ries. With books they were not unacquaint- 
ed, especially with books of piety and devo- 
tion. Happy had it been for Alvira, if she 
had never been acquainted witn some perni- 
cious novels, which accident, at first, threw 
in her way ; but which were afterwards 
sought for with an unceasing labour ! Hav- 
ing once drank of these corrupted, poison- 
ous streams, her books of devotion, and 
even her bible were neglected, as useless 
lumber ; except now and then on the Lord^s 
day, she would read a little in the scriptures, 
or a few pages in some pious book. Even 
her morning and evening devotion,. to which 
she had been accustomeil, were attended 
now but seldom, and performed as an un- 
pleasing task. The conversation of her kind 
parent's and affectionate listers, was ex- 



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132 

changed for that contained in her novel or 
romance. The masquerade scenes, the play- 
house seats, and long lovesick tales had now 
engrossed her mind. The disappointed 
squire — ^the canting country <;oquette — the 
village miss — the city madamr— ^he stolen 
mistress — the bloody duel — ^the runaway 
daughter, and her private marriage with her 
father's footman, succeeded with the raving 
madness of the rich old Don ; — the solemn 
vows of the despairmg lover, with his pro- 
testations of ardent^ early attachment ; his 
never-ceasing and supreme affection, his 
flowing tears, his uneasy pillow and restless 
ijights, his declining health ^nd lingering 
painful death — which death he courts, be- 
cause the lovely fair one has blessed his 
rival. — From these pernicious sources she is 
taught to believe, and does in reality be- 
Keve, that no oan can love but once, and 
only one— that^love, having fixed upon its 
proper object, remains^ — ^is unalterable, and 
eternal — ^that the laws of God and nature 
forbid that we should ever love more than 
once. Ah ! fair Alvira ! this is the most 
fatal source of all thy after ills — too faithful 
hast thou been to thy novel doctrines — ^too 
obedient hast thou been to the first impres- 
sions made on thy tender heart, by the youth- 
ful Theophilus ! 

At the time in which Theophilus commen- 
ced his addresses to Ae lovely and feir Al- 
vira, he wsis about nineteen years of age ; 
and was consequently in the early dawn of 
youth, and unacquainted with the more 
thorny paths of life. From books he had 
obtained some knowledge of human nature. 
He had read the history of Greece and Rome 
—was atolerable naasterof that which related 
to the discovery, colonization and revolution 
of his own country, and had a high venera- 
tion for those great and distinguished cha- 
racters who had been the principal agents in 
accomplishing the independence and con- 
federation of these happy states. But, as 
he loved his bible and madp it his study, he 
was much better acquainted with its doc- 
trines and precepts than he was with profane 
history. And, as the doctrine of salvation, 
through the crucifixion of the adored Son of 
God, had gained his cordial approbation, his 
life was governed by the pure precepts of 
the written word. 

("To be continued. J 

SELECTED FOU THE RURAL VISITER. y 
. ADDJIESS TO AN INFANT. 

Welcome Uttlc Itelpless stranger. 
Welcome to the light of day, 

Ssnile upon thy happy mother- 
Smile and chase her pains away. 

Lift thy eyes and look around thee, 

Various objects court thy sight, 
Nature spreads her verdant carpet, 

£arth was made for thy delight. 

Welcome to a mother's bosom — 

Welcome to a father's arms. 
Heir, to all thy father's virtues — 

Heir, to all thy mother's charms, 

joy thou bring'st but mix'd with trembling, 

Anxious joys and tender fears, ' 
Pleasing hopes and mingled sorrows, 

.Smiles of transport dash'd x^tt^ t«arft.-. 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



Who can tell what lies before thee— 
Calm or tempest, peace or strife ? 

With what varied turns and trials 

Heaven may mark thy cheqner'd life? 

\^ho can tell what eager passions 
In this little breast shall beat ? 

When ambition, love, or glory. 
Shall invade the peaceful seat. 

Wife can tell how wide the branches 
Of this tender plant may spread, 

tl^hile beneath its ample shadow, 
3wain8 may rest and flocks be fed. 

Angels guard thee— lovely blossom, 

Hover round and shield from ill- 
Crown thy parents' largest wishes 
And their fondest hopes fulfil. 



A. 



SELECTED FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

The following poetic morceau is extracted from the 
Richmond Inquirer. We know not which to ad- 
mire most, the beautiful simplicity of the fable, or 
the point and delicacy of the moraL 

THE BOY AND THE BUTTERFLY. 

As on a morn in blooming May, 
A butterfly in colours gay. 
Flew o'er the flowers on busy wing 
To sip the honied sweets of spring, 
A boy look'd on with ardent view 
And ran to seize it as it flew. 

From pink to pink the insect hies . 
And to the fragrant myrtle flies} 
On beds of violets reposes, 
And on the blooming breasts of roses. 

The boy with many a bound in vatin. 
Attempts the glittering prize to gain, 
Still flitting light on gaudy wing 
The butterfly dudes his spring. 
From flower to flower for ever changing. 
O'er all the varied landscape ranging! 

At length a tulip's bloom it spies* 
Eager to taste the flower it flies. 
Half buried in the cup appears, 
Nor sees the youth nor danger fears. 

The boy drew nigh : with ardent bound 
He seiz'd the fly and grasp'd it round. 
All mangled in his hand it lies. 
Its colours marr'd, and varying dyes. 
With streaming eye the boy look'd on. 
Mourning its loss and beauties gone: 
When thus in dying words it sung. 
Well worthy of a stoic's tongue. 

«* Know, pleasure is, however drest 

A painted butterfly at best. 

Which gently touch'd may charm the while. 

And gild with joy the path of toil : 

But pressM with too much ardour, lies 

All mangled in the eniibrace— and dies." 



THE LIGHT HOUSE- 

How exquisitely delightful mtist be the feelings which 
thrill through the bosom of the tempest-beaten ma- 
riner, long absent from his country and all his 
heart holds dear— when, a% he gradually approach- 
es his native land* the bUie smoky hill-tops of the 
yet distant shore first strike his eager eye! Still 
more transporting n»u8t be the first dim twink- 
ling glimmer of •* the light-house's light.'* when the 
interest of the scene is heightened by the surround* 
ing gloom of night. [Watbin^onian. 

The scene was more beautiful far to my eye. 
Than if day in her pride had array 'd it ; 

The land breeze- blew mild and the azure arch*d sky, 
Look'd pure as the Spirit that made it. 



The murmur rose soft as I silently gae'd 
On the shadowy wave's playful motion. 

From the dim dtsftant isle, till the LiCHT-R0i7ftB %t 
blaz'd 
Like a Star— >in the midst of the oceani. 

No longer the joy of the sailor-boy's breast. 
Was heafd in his wildly -breath'd numbers; 

The sea-bird had flown to her wave-girdkd nesv^ 
And the fishexiBao gone to his slumbers. 

One moment I gaz'd from the hill's gentle slopc^ 
All hush'd was the biV.ows' commotion, 

And thought that the Light-house look'd k>vely a^- 
Hope, 
That Star— on life's tiGemvdotts ocean. 

The time is long past, and the stene is afa^ 

Yet when my bead rests on its pillow. 
Will memory sometimes lekindle the star, 

That blaz'd on the breast of the billow. 

In life's doting hour, when the trembling soul fli^ 
And Death chills the hearths last emotioiH 

Oh then may the $erapl^ of Mercy arise. 
Like a Star— on eternity's ocean ! 



TO CORRSSPONDENTS. 

The contenta of t^ie packet jErom L., £. are under 
consideration. 

Several •flfusions, which appear to have cost the 
authors many a head^acfa, are consigned to the flames; 
We do not think them individually vrorthy oitpttapbt. 

The Bible Society, and Z. T, have been imavoidabty 
delayed, but shall be attended to next week. 

The RbapiodiH, Mon^t^, Z. and V. aieseceiTed. 



(jy* The follontving pereom^ agents for 
the Rural Visitery are duthortzed to receive 
subscriptions a7id give receipts on behalf of 
the Editor: James P. Parkey Bookseller ^ No. 
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way; James Chapmariy Elizabeth^Torvn; 
Matthias Dayy Newark; Joseph Bring- 
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Milligany Georgetown^ D. C. Richard Litky 
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R. Wilsony Fredericksburg; T. Brundige^ 
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THE RURAL VISITER. 



" Homo sum; humani nihil a me Qlienum puiQ^^^-^Man mid his cnre^ to me a man^ are dean 



VOL* I. 



BURLINGTON, SECOND MONTH (FEBRUARY) 18th, 1811. 



No* 30. 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XXIX. 

Her soul is generous and mUd.-— Qssiav. 

There are some men who imagine they 
display their talents and wit by ridiculing 
and attacking the female sex; who fancy 
that their arguments are irresistible because 
they are unanswered, and their invective 
allowed to be just because it b not noticed. 
I^ mean not to enter into a full and com]^te 
vindication of women from the censures 
which have bfcen so unjustly and ungenerous- 
ly heaped upon them: to enter into a dispute 
upon such a subject, would he indirectly to 
acknowledge that it was question^le. I 
mean no panegyric or eulogium upon the hxK 
sex ; unqualiked praise is little better thftn 
^unqualified censure, they are equalfy remov- 
ed from truth ; and if women do not m^t 
the appellation of angels, they most assured- 
ly are not devils. My object is by a frmik 
and manly declm*ation of my opinions upon 
this subject, by facts and observations which 
every one may test the truth of by his own 
experience, to induce those who have thus 
laboured to depreciate the characters of wo- 
men, to believe that tioidi and reason do not 
lie only on their side. To endeavour to per- 
suade the world that wcmien are deficient in 
tmderstanding^ appears to me an undertak- 
ing replete with au the absurdity and non- 
sense of a Quixotic enterprize, without dis- 
pla3^g that philanthropy of disposition, and 
benignancy of heart, which were ever mani- 
fested even in the most irrational actions of 
the renowned knight of La Mancha. After 
the numerous and splendid examples which 
we have seen to the contrary, this question 
may be considered as settled. Though there 
may exist a doubt whether the abilities of 
men and women are not diiferent, all I think 
who are not inxpervious to reason, must 
{rant that they are equal. Even on those 
subjects to which men are led by the whole 
system of their e<lncation they have found 
strenuous rivals in the other sex. Semiramis 
as a warrior, Elizabetii and Catharine as 
politicians^ have rai*ely been equalled, aod 
perhaps never surpikised. In tiie mathema- 
tics^ in natiural .philosophy, and in fact in 
every science to which tiiey have directed 
their minds, they have proved themselves to 
be entitled to share th^ honours which men 
appear too intensely desirous of confining 
to themselves. Not that a female mathe- 
matician has ever equalled Newton ; but 
what odier man can be considered as his 
rival? Comets and earthquakes admit not 
of anthmeticai calculation. They have never 
motde scteace die sole study of their lives ^ 



but considering circumstances, and making 
allowances for the difficulties against which 
they have been obliged to contend, their 
advancement has been equal to any thing 
achieved by men. ~ I do not deny but that 
some of them are weak and foolish f I 
mean not to assert that those who inveigh 
against the sex arc blind, or absonous, as 
they must necessarily be drd they make such 
broad declarations without sotne shadow of 
foundation. Women are to be found in 
every grade from the " Varium et mutabile 
feminai ' of Virgil, to die most exalted ele- 
vation of intellectual and moral greatness. 
But supposing their talents to be dissimilar, 
no conclusion can be thence deduced to prdve 
a superiority. One man proves a profound 
mathematician, another appears particularly 
qualified to perform the duties of a politician 
and legislator; the utiderstanding of one 
seems adapted to acute and metaphysical 
inquiries, another is bom a poet. Who will 
undertake to measure with exactness their 
respective abilities? Where shall we find 
compass and square to determine the ques- 
tion of inteHectual superiority? Between 
tilings which bear no reladon to each other, 
comparisons cannot be made. It is to this 
diversity of talents that mankind should 
attribute the progress they have made in any 
particular branch of kno^edge ; like the di- 
vision of physical labour it brin^ the whole 
force of an individn^ to one object : it con- 
centrates those rays into a focus, which be- 
ing spread and diihised over a large surface, 
would be unable to yield light or warmth. 

•• God gives to erery man 
The virtue, temper, understanding, taste, 
That lift him into life j and lets him fall 
Just in the niche he was ordained to fiO." 

This diversity of talents I consider as one 
of those manifestations of Divine goodness 
and wisdom, as of itself is sufficient to prove 
the superintendance of a Perfectlntelligence. 
With as strong lines of discrimin;ltion, and 
for purposes equally wise, the same Provi- 
dence may have distinguished the abilities of 
the two sexes. There s^pears much plausi- 
bility in this idea. It appears consistent with 
divine wisdom to believe that to man, whose 
robust and athletic frame of body qualify him 
to undergo fatigtte and labour ; whose ambi- 
tion leads him into d:mgers which his cour- 
age enables him to brave ; Nature lias given 
an understanding and a particular species of 
talent, especially required in those situations 
in which he may be placed. Upon women 
whose forins are cast in a more delineate mould, 
whose tempers and dispositions appear in- 
tended to promote the happiness of men, and 
to adorn and render delightfid the social cir- i 
cle, and domestic sceae, a mind most suita- * 



hie to further these ends has beeti bestowtxi : 
The)r conjoined talents are requisite to give 
the highest felicity of which mortals are sus- 
ceptible. The mason and the carpenter must 
each contribute his labour to build a com- 
fortable and convenient houac : where both 
are necessary it is idle to debate which con- 
tributes most. 

Nearly the same observations may apply 
to dicir virtues as to their minds. Women 
and men are in both respects equal ; they are 
certainly not the same, and this appears to 
me the only truth elicited by these disputes : 
they equally contribute to each other's happi- 
ness, and are equally necessary and useful K> 
each other. He who endeavours to foment 
jealousies and excite disputes between the 
sexes, merits the contempt and detestation of 
both. Such differences are -useless at best : 
men and women quarrelling which adds 
most to the felicity of the other, 

*' Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand 
For lifting food to it V 

But not only are these opinions founded in 
reason, they are corroborated by the fullest 
and most ample testimony of experience. — 
History proves to us that the female sex is 
possessed of as many virtues and as many vi- 
ces as men ; that in jfroportion to the equali- 
ty subsisting between them, in proportion to 
we respect and esteem that have been pard to 
women, have been the virtue and the happi- 
ness of both. Wherever men confiding in 
their superior physical strength have arroga- 
ted aU excenence to diemselves, and circum- 
scribed the extension of reason and merit 
within the contracted sphere of their own 
sex; wherever they have depressed women in 
the scale of beings below their naturd and 
true situation, the degradation has fallen 
equally upon both. I do not hazard much in 
saying that there is no instance of any nation^s 
attaining to any eminence in science or in ci- 
vilization, where women have been ccmsider- 
ed as an inferior race of bein^. I know full 
well that bv this assertion I contradict a very 
prevalent, but a very erroneous idea, thiEit in 
Greece and Rome women were not consi- 
dered as approaching to any thing like an 
equality with men : this opinion rests upon 
a week foundation : the ancient authors do 
not justify or authorize it. In fact the insi- 
nuation is no less untrue than it is disgrace- 
f\d. Homer, it is universally allowed, gives 
us accurate representations of the manners of 
the pristine Greets; and those who are con- 
versant with that author must agree that nu- 
merous passages might be cited from him to 
support my opinion. Euriwdes affords simi- 
lar instances ; and Ovid and Virgil add their 
authority to substantiate the foot. Let it no*^ 
be objected tlttt ditse m^ were poe^ au< 



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154 



-THE RUKAL VISITER. 



therefore * succeed lietter in fiction than in 
truth.^ Poets draw their pictures from reali- 
ty, they must '*hold the mirror up to natui-e." 
He who transgresses the bounds of truth unci 
l)robability, and depicts what never existed 
but in his own imagination cannot but olFcnd 
and disgust. T«^e it is that 

•• The \w€Cs eye in a fine phrcnsy roUinff 

Doth glance from heaven to earth, froai earth tolieaven: 

And as Itnagination bodies forth 

The fonns of things unknowrn, the poet's pen 

Turns them to shape and gives to airy nothing 

A local habitation and a name/' 

But he is not therefore allowed to contradict 
what is true, or to give false representiitions : 
he must be natural or he cannot be a poet. If 
however notwithstanding these observations, 
the authority of my friends the poets should 
be considered as weak and inconclusive, we 
may safely rely upon historians who are the 
narrators of facts. Plutarch, Xenophon, Sue- 
toni6us, Tacitus, concur in giving us reason 
to believe that the opinion so generally enter- 
tained that women among the ancients were 
despised and contemned, is utterly void of 
foundation. Let me not be misunderstood ; 
I mean not to assert that they possessed the 
same elevation which they now hold, or that 
dicy were treated with the same equaUty they 
now are, but I fe^l myself justified in assert- 
ing that much exaggeration and falsehood has 
been employed to represent their situation in- 
ferior to what was actually the case. The na- 
tions of modem times owe their great ad- 
vancement in virtue and in science to the fos- 
tering care of female patrons ; to. their ex- 
ample, to that delicacy and pioprietj- of 
sentiment produced by a communion be- 
tween the sexes. And let Americans in 
particular remember, that to a woinan they 
owe the discovery of this western world ; a 
discovery which has produced consequences 
so stupendous, so vast, as to set the abilities 
of men at defiance. But views of this kind 
need not be offered ; for I most sincerely be- 
lieve that every individual whose good opin- 
ion I should conceive desirable, needs no 
reasoning to induce him to embrace my 
opinion. His own observation has already 
convinced him that woman constitutes the 
primary source of the happiness of man. 

U. 



SEL£Crib1> FOR THB RURAA VNXTER. 

PATHETIC SOLILOQUIES OF A HIGHWAY. 

MAN. 

Ah family forlorn !— 
The sport of fortune famine and mankmd ; 
Com|K>se thy gricaft, Loisa stop those tears ; 
Cry not so piteous— spare ! oh spare thy 8ire» 
Nor quite distract thy mother-— hapless babes ! 
What shall I do ? Which ever way I turn. 
Scenes of incessant horror strike my eye ; 
Bare barren walls ^oom formidably round« 
And not a ray of hope is left to cheer ; 
55orrowing and sick, the partner of my fate 
Lies on her bed of straw— beside her sad 
My children dear cling to her breast and weep; 
Or prcst by hunger, hunt each nook for food, 
And quite exhausted, climb these knees in v&iu. 
How every asking eye appeals at once ? 
Ah ! looks too eloquent '.—too plainly mark'd— 
Ye ask for bread— C have no bread to give. 
The wants oi nature, frugal as she is. 
The Htlo calls and corrWrts wh.cl* sup|>ort 
From day to dav 'he fcejle life of WRr, 



No more, alas! thy father can supply. 
To me the hand of heav'n-born charity, 
Hard as the season» gripes; the neighbourhood 
fiiu>led or pleased, o erlook a stranger's woe ; 
Scarce knows the tenant of th' adjoining house 
What thin partitions shield him from the room 
Where poverty bath fixed her dread abode. 
Oh ! fatal force of ill-iira'd delicacy, 
Which bade us still conceal the warn extreme, 
While yet the decent dress remained in store 
To visit my Eugenius like myself; 
Now shame, confusion, memt ry unite 
To drive me from his door. 

Ah cru|>l man! 
Too barbarous Eugenius this from ibee ? 
Have I rot screen'd thee from a parent's wrath ? 
Shar'd in thy transports, in thy sorrows shar*d ? 
Were not our friendships in the cra^lle form'd l 
Oain'dihcy not strength and firmness as they grew? 
And dost thou shift with fortune's veering hand ? 
Dost thou survey me with the critic's eye \ 
And shun thy friend because — (Oh blush to truth! 
Oh stain to human sensibility !) 
Because his tatter'd garments to the wind 
And every passenger more deep betray 
Th* extremity severe^then fare thee well ! 
Quick let me seek my honnely shed ag^n. 
Fly from the wretch who triumphs «rer my rags, 
On my Amanda's faithful bosom fall, 
Hug to my heart, my famish'd fondlings round* 
Together suffer and together die 
What piles of wcalih. 
What loads of riches, glitter thro* each street: 
How thick the toys of fashion crowd the eye ! 
The lap of luxury can hold no more j 
Fortune so rapid rolls the partial show'r, 
That every passion sickens with excess. 
And nauseates the banquet meant to charm. 
Yet, what aire all these golden scenes to me ? 
These splendid, modish superHuities— 
What are these bright temptations to the poor ? 
Sooner, alas ! will pride new gi)c ^^cr coach, 
Than bid the warming faggot blaze around 
The hearth where chiU nece^sit;- resides ! 
But must, Ams^nda, then ^ our ci.der babes, 
Must they untimely sink into the grave ? 
Must all be victims to a fate so soon ? 
The world will nothing give but buiTf n frowns ; 
What then remains? there stands the wretch<.i hut, 
I dare not enter ! heaven befr4«?nd them all !— - 
What .hen remains ? the night steah on apace ; 
The sick moon labours thro' the mixing clouds; 
Yes that were well— Oh! dir*- necessi y ! 
It m«st be so— despair — do what thou wilt. 

I faint wuh fear. 
With terror and fatigue. This forest gloom, 
- Made gloomier by the deep'ning shades of night. 

Suits well the sad disorder of my soul : 
' The passing owl shrieks horrible her wail. 
And conscience broods e'er her prophetic note : 
Light springs the hare upon the withcr'd leaf, 
The rabbit frolics, and the guilty mind 
Starts at the sound, as at a giant's tread-^ 
Ah mc !•— I hear the horse along the road! 
Forgive me Providence ! forgive me man ! 
1 tremble ihro' the heirt ; the clattering hoof 
Re-echoes thro' the wood ; the moou ap|iear». 
And lights mc to my prey ! 

Stop — Traveller !— 
Behold a being, born like thee to live, 
And yet endow'd with fortitude to die. 
Were hi» alone the pang of poverty ! 
But ft dear Wife, now starving far from hence; 
Seven hapless hungry children by her side, 
A frowning woHd, and an ungrateful friend, 
Urge him to actions which his hea^t abhors. 
Assist us— save, us— pity my despair; 
O'erlook my fault, and view me as a man. 
A fellow mortal sues to thee for bread, 
Invites thy charity, invites thy heart ; 
Perhaps thou art a Husband and a father r 
Think if thy babes, like mine dejected lay, 
And held their little hands to thee for food. 
What woulds'i thou have rae do, wert thou like 

me 
Driven to distress like mine ? Oh ! then befriend. 
Make our sad cause thy own : I ask no more, . 
Nor will I force what bounty cannot spare; 
Let me not take, assassin like, ih) boon 
Which hunibly bendir.g at thy feet 1 beg. 
Ne'er till this night— 

—God fcpeed thte on thy way ! 
Ma) plenty eversii witbin tK/ h« use. 



If thou have children, angels guard their steps I 
Health scatter roses round eftch little cheek. 
And heaven at last reward thy soul wuh bliss! 
Hp's gone— and left his purse within my hand ! 
Thou much desir'd, thou often sought in vain I 
Sought while the tears were swimming in my eye ; 
Sought but not found— at length 1 ' old thee ftsr. 
Swift let me fly upon the wings • fove, 
And bare the blessing to my fainting babes; 
Then gently take Amanda in my arms, 
And whisper to Vhc moui ncr happier tklingi. 

Hark, what noise wa^ thatf 
•Twas the dull Bittern,- booming o'er my hea^ 
The raveti follows her— the dusky air 
Thickens each form upon the cheated sight. 
Ah! something shot across the way, naethinks!-* 
'TIS but the shadow of this stripling tree. 
That throws its baby arms as blows the gale: 
Each object terrifies guilt's aiixious heart ; 
The robber trembles at 

What have I saki ? 
Robber ! well may I start— oh Heav'n 1 
What have I done ?— — 

Shall then Amanda live on Spoil ? 

Shall my poor children eat the bread or theft 
And have I at this peaceful hour of night. 
Like some malignant thing that prowls the wood* 
Have 1 a very felon ! sought relief 
By means like these ?— And yet the traveller 
Gave what 1 ask'd, as if in charity ; 
Perhaps his heart compassionately Jdnd, 
Gave from an impulse it could not resist ; 
Perhaps 'twas fear— lest murder might ensue ! 
Alas ! I bore no arms-*no blood I sought ! 
How knew he that \ yet sure he mig^t perceive 
The hardcn'd villain spoke not in my air; 
Trembling and cold, my hand was join'd to hU 
My knees shook hard, my feeble accents fail'd. 
The father's, husband's tears bcdew'd my face, 
And virtue almost triumph 'd o'er despair. 
Yet strike stbe thought severely on my heart. 
The deed was foul ! soft— let me pause awhile ; 
Aj^ain the moon-beam breaks upon my eye: 
—Guilt bears me to the ground— I faint— I fall ! 
The means of food should still be hotiot means, 
— Klse were it well to starve I 



THE NEW. JERSEY BlBIJt SOCIETY. 

No. IV. 

Extract of a letter from < , a respectable 
member at Nurenburg. 

" When I happened to talce my usual 
tour, through Austria, and Stiria, at Easter 
last, 1 had so many urgent calls for Bihles 
and Testaments, that I really felt distressed, 
not knowing what to do, or how to supply 
these multiplied wants. The more agre^*»- 
bly was I surprised when, immediately after 
my return, I received the account of your 
newly established Bible Societj'. — Bleased 
be the name of the Lord, who i« able to do 
exceeding abundantly above all that we 
ask or think ; and may his choicest blessings 
descend upon yon, moat respected and be- 
loved brethren, for your happy resolution t© 
spread far and near the iuestimable treasures 
of the holy scriptures. 

** We cannot but return you our most 
humble thanks, for having encouraged us )■ 
the most liberal manner to co-operate with 
you in this excellent work of love* While 
reading your kind invitation and offer, I 
was deeply impressed with, that scripture, 
^ they beckoned to their partners which were 
in the other ships that they should come and 
help them j and so they came and tillc<i both 
ships, so that they began to sink.* Your 
k ttcr afforded me such joy, that I could not 
contain myself, but immediately went to the 
Rev.-—, one of the most respectable mi- 



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155 



nisters of our city, in order to communicate 
to him the joyful news from a far country. 
He was no less affected than myself; and we 
agreed to appoint a meeting of christian 
friends on Ascension-day, at which we unan- 
imously resolved to unite for the formation 
of a Bihle Society ; and by a printed letter, 
to invite our christian friends, throughout 
Germany and Switzerland, to assist in so no- 
ble an undertaking* 

When sometimes I am privileged to 
give away a Bible or a Testament; father and 
mother, son and daughter, are running after 
me, thanking me an hundred and a thousand 
times,; kissing my hand and my coat ; shed- 
ding tears of joy and loudly exclaiming, •may 
God bless you ; may the Lord Jesus bliss 
you in time and to all: eternitj-.' Really I fclt 
sometimes a foretaste of heavenly joy, so 
that I could not sufficiently bless God, for 
having intrusted me with the honorable com- 
mission of steward of the kind benefactions 
of others. But the more I disperse, the 
more the petitions both of ministers and 
ftchoolmasters increase, not only from Aus- 
tria, but likewise from Stina, Carinthia, and 
Hungary, insomuch that I am afraid to pre- 
sent their petitions." 

Extract of a letter from the German Society 
in Isurenburgm 

** We confidently hope for the success of 
our undertaking. If in England, according 
to the latest accounts, even hard woHcing arti- 
sans, have contributed their mite towards 
the support of the Bible Society, can we 
suppose that less zeal for the good cause will 
be aisplaved by our German and swiss re- 
verers of the sacred writings. 

" The inherent value of 3ie book, the re- 
ligious wants of the people, the critical cir- 
cumstances of the times, die present tran- 
quillity of the states ; aU these, besides maoj' 
other urgent reasons, loudly caill for attention 
to this important undertaking. 

O ye f who know and revere the Bible, 
which yet remains the Bible of all religious 
parties, lend your aid in promoting it. Ye, 
who on the brink of the grave, can dispose 
of your property at pleasure, think on the 
words of the just Judge of the mrorld. / 
was hungry and ye gave me meat ; I was 
thirsty arid ye gave me drink. If the blessing 
be already so great for him who ministers to 
the bodily wants of his fellow creatures, how 
much greater will it be for those, who, con- 
strained by the love of Christ provide for 
satisfying the hungr\% after the living word 
of God, and lead diirsty souls to the pure 
wells of salvation. 



TOlt THE RURAL VISITER. 
•'To fix 
The generoQs purpose in the glowing brewt." 

If it were possible to point out the man in 
existence who could lay claim to unalloyed 
happiness, I should without hesitation, 
coufer tliat distinction upon him w^o had 
done the most possible good to his fellow 
mortals. There is a luxury in the conscious- 
ness of conferring happiness on others, which 
I tielieve nothing earthly can equal— a luxury 
of which the professed seekers after pleaA ore 



can form but a very partial estimate. ^Un- 
der this impression I have always conside r- 
ed Humanus as one ^ the happiest of my 
acquaintances, because he seems to possess 
that quick intuitive faculty of conferring 
happiness by all the varioils means which 
human ingenuity can possibly invent ; and I 
could mention numerous instances, in which, 
without the least pecuniary aid, he has set 
the industrious sons of poverty in a way to 
obtain all the comforts and conveniencies of 
life. 

Some days ago as we walked down Wal- 
nut street, a little girl met us with a handful 
of needlework, and skipping up to Uuma- 
nus, utiroiled and shewed it for his approba- 
tion. After praising her diligence, he drop- 
ped some trifle into it, and giving it her 
again, bid her continue to be good and in- 
dustrious, and she should always find a 
friend in him. As we passed on^ he gave 
me the following brief histor}' of litde Nan- 
cy and her mother. 

" About two years ago, walking thrbugh the 
State House yard, I beheld the mother and 
daughter in a most forlorn and destitute si- 
tuation, sitting on one of the seats. I no- 
ticed them, and as I passed, she kissed tl^e 
little giri, saying, ^ Come my dear let us 
begone—* Where shall we go, mammal* said 
the litde cherub-^* I wish we could get some 
breakfast, for I am very hungry.' ^ I know 
not my dear, but I hope God will direct our 
steps,' said the mother, as she wiped the big 
drops from her pallid cheeks. 

I could not hear and see this umnoved—- 
I wrapped my purse in my handkerchief, and 
dropping it as if unheeded, where I knew 
they must see it, hastened out uf the gate— • 
intending by this means to relieve their 
present wants, without injuring their feel- 
mgs. But I was disappointed. I had not 
reached the comer, when I discovered die 
litde girl in pursuit of me, with the hand- 
kerchief as 1 had dropped it, and running 
up to me, said, her mother had ibund it, 
and as she saw me drop it, had sent her to 
restore it. ^ True it dropped from my pock- 
et,' said I, ^ but why did you not keen it to 
buy a breakfast, are you not hungry)* * O 
yes sir,' said she, as the tears started from 
her eyes, *■ we are both very hungry, but as 
mamma says it would be wrong to keep it, 
she sent me to return it to yon, as she knew 
you had lost it.' 

The artless simplicity of litde Nancy, and 
the honesty of the mother, determined me 
by some means to better their situation ; and 
giving her some change, I told her I would 
do something for them both, if they would 
call at my lodgings that afternoon, the direc- 
tion for which I wrote with a penciL <The 
moment my mind was at liberty to think, I 
formed the plan which I have since seen in 
operation in their favor, and by which they 
are enabled to obtain an easy and comforta- 
ble livelihood. Within the first year, she 
laid up the sum which I loaned her for the 
commencement of a litde ihop." Thus ended 
the narrative. I was so pleased with its con- 
clusion^ that I determined, as I hope many 




of mv 
liaise.' 



readers wiil^ to *^ go 



and do like- 

LSAIIDER. 



FOR THU RURAt VISITER. 

Bmbosomed in a lonely bower 

Beneath a cool and pensive shade, 
IVe seen a lovely beauteoas flower 

Raising its solitary head. 
A soothing fragrance round, ii flung. 
Upon its breast the de^ drops hung, 
Among the flowers that deck the greti\ 
A sweeter violet ne'er was seen. 
The gTirtering dewdrops seemed like tears, 

Such as add lustre to the eye : 
Such as affection sometimes wears. 

Such as oft flow from charity. 

Tve seen a rose-bud on the spray, 

When first its beauties felt fhe air. 
It seemed like the holy healing ray 

Of love, that drie^ the mourner's teat. 
Exulting in its newbiom bloom. 
It breathed around its sweet perfume: 
Its beauties breaking through the green 
Seemed fit to deck a fairy scene ; 
Seemed like the blush of various dye 

Which o'er the virgin's features steals 
When first love sparkles in her eye, 

When first a mutual flame she feels. 

I've felt the power of music^s art ; 

The sounds as o'er my breast they roW, 
That sober pensive bliss impart 

•• Pleasing yet mournful to the soul." 
It seemed as spirits of the wind 
In the mid air, on high reclined. 
Poured forth those strains, which spirits ldv!le 
And listening angels might approve ; 
As if the wondrous powers of song. 

Which bards of olden time rehearse; 
As if those powers, forgot so long 

Again were given to sons of verse. 

Entranced by sleep's soft lenient power 

I've seen the tissue Fancy wove; 
Oh ! may I oft retrace the hour 

And oft again the transport prove ! 
Methought that joys like those of heaveiv 
Unmixed and'pure to me were given; 
Not one dim cloud to damp my view 
But all was bright as heaven's own hue. * 
Those fairy dreams of love alnd bliss. 

So fraught with all that mortals prise. 
Calm, pure, and perfect happiness. 

Oh ! woidd that I could realise ! 

Bot not the violet's modest hue. 

Nor the fresh rosebud's brighter glow. 
Though bathed in tears of lucid dew, 

Though beauteous as the varied bow*— 
Not music, though t love it well, 
Its cadence soft, its gentle swell. 
Not the bright views of cheating dreams 
Are for my song such welcome themes— 
As that bri^t tear, so sof^, sp mild, 

Which glistened in my Laura's eye \ 
That tear, which every pangbeguikdf 

Which spoke her feeling sympaih) . Z. 



roa 1H£ BDRAL VISIT&&. 

Many themes for use or pleasure. 
By your Poet's have been sung; 

^htte impart to youth a treasure. 
By experience sought and won. 

Thott who oft for Fame*i bright dwelling, 
I^ong have sigh'd and bent their way \ 

Now, perceive h^ rose-buds swelling. 
On ^e Muse'sr willing lay. 

Still, delightedly 111 listen. 

While in Virtue's cause you sing ; 

Or when Sath-e's taught to glisten. 
To impart a wholesome sting. 

And when leisure smiles consentmg, 
Should you grant my humble strain; 

I will send a line, assenting* . 
To the ormhs you shall ex; Ian. 
SbtOy rak^ FANH?. 



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156 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



SELECTED FROM THE WEEKLY MONITOR. 
IfiiU^ for the formation and improvement of 
the female c/mracter^ 

Ok a former occasicn, 1 called the atten- 
tion of my readers to the dangers that beset 
the young man, when be first enters on the 

V busding scene of life ; atnd I ventured to of- 
fer such advice, as appeared to itie best fit- 
ted for that perilous' situation. To-^y, my 
mind turns to an object of equal impor- 
tance, and unquestionably one of the most 
interesting in nature : that of an amiable fe- 
male, ever prompt in flying to sooth the 

. distresses ot others, y«t herself, too often the 

. prey of corroding and incurable woes; 

[ formed by the hand ofHeaven to blesst and to 
humanize mankind, yet surrounded by pe- 
culiar cares and anxieties, and demandmg 
all the kindness and protection, that manly 
honour and the most generous fricQdship 
can bestow* 

When a young and innocent female iets 
out on flie joumej?' of life, unacquain)ted 
with the d^togers of the road, guileless her- 
self, and unsuspicious of others, who b 
there that would not help the interestmg 
traveller on her way ? — What eye does not 
fire with indignation at the villain that would 
lead her into the mazes pf error ?-^What 
hand is not stretched forth, to snatch her 
from the perils to which she is exposed ? To 

. those females who nxay honor these essays 
with a perusal, I therefore, dedicate the pre- 
sent number. Much remains yet to be said, 
and some waroingjs to be given, which it is 
my intention to bring forward in a future pa- 
per : And happy indeed shall I esteem my- 
self, if any effort of mine should tend to im- 
prove the rising generation ; " That wfule 
our som %}iallgroru) up as the y^mng piof^t^y 
our daughters may be as the polished corners 
of the temple.'' 

Tho' religion is indispensably necessary 
to io^ sexesy and in every possible charac- 
ter and station, yet a woman seems, more 
peculiarly, to need its enlivening supports, 
whilst her frame must be confessed to be ad- 
mirably calculated for the exercise qf all the 
tender and devout affections. 

The timidity, arising from the natural 
weakness and delicacy of your frame ; the 
numerous diseases, to which you are liable ; 
that exquisite sensibility, which in many of 
you, vibrates to the slightest touch of joy or 
sorrow; the tremulous anxiety you have 
for friends, chiWren^ a family, which no- 
thmg cau relieve, but a sense of their being 
under the protection of God; the sedenta- 
riness of your life, naturally fi:dlowed iVith 
low spirits, whilst we are seeking health and 
pleasure in the field ; and the many lonely 
hours, which in almost every situation, are 
likely to be your lot, will expose yqu to a 
number of peculiar sorrows, which you can- 
not like our sex, cither drown in wine or di- 
vert by dissipation. -^Under these, or indeed 
any other distresses, religion is the oi^ly true 
and unfailing resource; and ia hopes and 
praspects the onlv solid basis of consolation. 
In your many solitary mioments, what can af- 
ibrd the mind so sovereign a relief as the ex- 
Tcise <4 devotioB to ap all-^rosent God I and^ I 



when donKatic sorrows .dust^ upon yQiA, 
which ycMi cannot reveal to any friend on 
earthy what method have yoa left, but to 
pour them into the boaom of your Falber in 
HeaveUy who is confessedly the friend of the 
friendless, always willing to hear their cries, 
and always able to protect them: Let it, 
then, be your first stibdy, \xy earnest pragrer, 
and by all the appointed means of grace, to 
secure the protection of your Great Creator* 
Never fancy that religioi^ wUl render you 
gloomy or unpleasing. Deduced from scrip- 
ture, and grounded upon reason, sotid argu- 
ment, and truth, it will become a source of 
perpetual cheerfulness to yourself that will 
be reflected on every person and object a^ 
boijt you. 

Treat with the greatest reverence, every 
thinp; t^t relates to the house of God, tohw 
ministers, to his sacraments, and to his 
word. To mention any thmg that is saored 
with levity, is a certain mark of a depisi^ 
heart, and a weak understanding.— «»A witty 
sneer or sarcasm on such aubjectft, is haidly 
to be forgiven. It is a species of aacxilegef 
and shocks all the sensible and better pvts 
of mankind. 

Ta enkindle the flame of pietjr, to im<r. 
prove your understaadiag, and to nv^id your 
Keart, read the scriptures. Tkere ift a ndi« 
nes8 and a comfort in this sacked hoedE, which 
nothing else can equal. Kvery word is big 
with instruction.; every sentence ia divine* 
It is a mine perpetually <^niQg ; the deeper 
we dig, the richer is tke ore« Do not read 
much at a tnoe. Meditatiaa ia necessa- 
ry to digest this food* Yoa should refieet 
many houra for reading one. Evety nx^ 
ment that you peruse this book, coaeidev 
yourself aa in the immediate presence of 
yom* Maker. Examine yoi»7clf by the pvo* 
misea and threatnings as you proceed, aad 
do not forget to bless God upoa your Imeet, 
tlmt he has given you such a lamp Ibc your 
feet, and such a light to your path. 

But booka and rules of all kinds are but 
the theory of religion, and are only useful,, 
as they lead us to. practice. Let, then, your 
life be a continual comment on the goodbooks^ 
you have read, and let the light of your ex* 
ample shine before men. 

Christianity, vou will easity perceive, ha^ 
but two capital features; We to. God» eti-* 
denced in acts 6f pi^ty, and good will to* 
wards man, exemplified in all the possibili- 
ties of doing good. As devotion, however 
necessary, can bring no profit to our M^er, 
any more than a little t^r caa add to the 
s|^endours of the sun, the scriptures haVe 
laid the greatest stress on charity to our fel- 
low creatures* This is the end of the com- 
mandment. Itistheembodyi^of ourpiety; 
and the world could not subsist without it. 
Human life ia full of woe. Charity is the 
angel, that binds up the sores of our fcUow 
creatures, Keals the broken in heart, clothes 
the naked, and feeds the huhgry.— ^Our Sa- 
vioUr has said, "that it is more blessed 
to give thj|n to receive," and the pleasures 
which spring from chanty, prove its origin 
to be divine. 

True charity does not 3d mudi. consist in 
multtplying^ little alms, to a number of poor 



peoj^, as in making some grand and well di* 
rected efibrts in favour pf a few.*-^ducating 
one child of an overburthened family b a great- 
er act of beneficence, than retailing to them 
Qccafiionally a thousand petty benefeicdons. It 
is not a few scattered drops of rain, but it is a 
generous shower, coming all at once, which 
revives the parched earth, and quickens ve* 
getatioiu It is amazing what cbarides eveti 
a small forttme wlD ei^e you to perform, 
if under the iniuence of chrisdan axxmovay^ 
A fiew retrenchments from dress, vanity or 
pleasure,, poured into the chtistian stock, 
will make it rich indeed. 
^ A young lady has many methods of cha- 
rity be^de die mere act of ^ving money* 
That time, which sometimes hangs heavy on' 
her hands, miffht be well eiiaployed in ma- 
king garments tor the naked, or providing 
cordials for die sick. If I wished a womaa 
to be universally chairming, I would recom- 
niend this expedient. Compassion is the 
hig^M»t excellence df your sex, and charity 
ia the sacred root from which it 8prin|;s. 
The soft bosom of woman throbbing with 
sympathy, and her eye glistening with the 
cry^ dr<^ of pity, are the finest touches 
of Nature's pencd. 

But the true sublime of compassion is 
wii^»it is extended to the so«L Every e£> 
fort to arrest the -guilty i» their march to per- 
dition, to convert a n;Uow mortal bom dife 
error of his m^ys, is perhaps, the nearest 
app«Qii^]| you^ can make, in this house of 
clay^ to the ogdnistiy of angels, to the attri- 
b^t€|s of Jehovah, and to the unbounded 
con^)assion of him, who died fen* the sins of 
alL Cherish then, in jrour heart, this prin- 
ciple of heavenly diarity, and fear not to 
meet with a thousaid opportunitiea of caV*- 
ing it inta action. Have you servants ai^ 
depe^dantti about you ? Seize every favour- 
able Qioment of instilling into their minds 
the holy precepts of religion. Teach them^ 
OS far as lies in your power, what they ought 
to dc^ a^' ^how them, in your own example, 
how it is tqbe 4<one. Have you no poor neigh- 
bours who. ^tand in need, not only of your 
aUns; but of instructibn ? Visit them in the 
double capacin^ of their mental and bodily 
benefactor. Th^ earthlV comforts you dis- 
pense to tliem will shorUy vanish like ^ 
subkuiary treasures ; but the words of truth, 
and the principles of virtue that you pbmt iir 
thei|r breasts, shall bloom and nourisb 
through the ages of immortality. 

3ut, above all things, forget not to d« 
these, and all your labours of love, in the 
name, and to the glory of God. Think, 
act, and live^ as in his presence. Begin, 
continue, and end every day, as in his sight, 
'and every action, as under his direction. 
Remember that all things on earth are but a 
shadow ; that time is tumUing down the 
system of the universe, and (hat religion 
only can rise upon the ruins, by the labours 
it has inscribed to eternity and to God. 
(To be continued.) 

A gentleman who was rudely driven off 
the pavement by some soldiers, said, he 
never before so well understood the distinc- 
tioii hcttween the torow chil and military 



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The nerv nwdt of cutthoatbig and dressing 
Hemp. 

(Oonoluded firom pa^e 151.) 

If you work the hemp ona taUe, you mutt, 
%6Sm€ taking it out ot Ae water, open the 
bundles a little, and rub the stems between 
jrour hmds, to get oiF what you can of the 
slime, and to loosen the risd. You must lifee* 
wise push the bundle along in the water, with 
the root end foremost, to loosen the rind at 
that end where the operation is to be begun* 
If you do not thus nib and scour your hemp 
in the water where you soak it, you must do 
it in the Ifipug^. But in either case, yoa 
mu;it be careful to keep an evefi and steady 
lumd ta avoid bveaiing the reed, which, as 
many times as hJu^pens,. renders the opera- 
tion of getting the reeds «uC tedious^ If k 
be wiVMigkt 9n a tabfe, die bun^e must be 
freq[uen^ but dightfy wetted. If any suitg- 
ble method couULbe taken to m^e wstter dr^l 
gently on it, it wo«M be best* A pfaurib muiC 
be laid Oft the bundteto keep it steady. 

A^ matters b^ins; properly disp6sed,,eidier 
on th^ taU/e oo in the trough, youmust begin 
at tly» root end, tojMtsh back a Ktde the rind 
fvott die stem* Then taking hold of one 
stem at a time, and rather i^ear the outside 
than the laniddldof tiie bufidle,keepyx»ur hand 
and tbie reed under water (if you work in a 
trough^ and draw it out from die bundle Us 
strajgbjt as possible ; you wiU find it come out 
clea» aft a swoid. from its scabbard* As you 
proceed, you may take two, afterwards four, 
and up to fix or more reeds at a time, whicb 
will draw out still more easily. When yon 
. have drawn out all the reeds that you can 
fiad at the root end, lift up the spiked plank 
which was at the upper end, leaVing on diat 
wlubht wna in tiie rndddle, and draw out such 
pieces^ <rf reed as you may find at the upper 
end, and which have remained after drawmg 
out what, you could at the root end, because 
they were broken* Lasdy, ttdte (^the plonk, 
wfattBhkiy enthe mid^, and take out alt the 
relics of reed you can perceive* If your 
hemp were in good sendition for drawing, 
you win JMW( &d aU your reeds perfectly 
dteaxi- Qfi\ the floor, and the rind, which is the 
hemp, lyii)^ in str^ht threes in the water 
or on the table. 

You will perceive, that among the hemp 
there is a great quantity of gum left, looking 
like a jeUy* This you wiU wash oat, as if 
you were washing any long straight piece of 
cbth, observing not to displace or twist the 
threads^ which would thwart the future ope- 
ration of dvessktg or hackling. The finer and 
whiter you desire the hemp to be^ the more 
waters you wiU run it through, squeezing it 
out at each time of washing* But I think it 
alw^s sight at the last to run it through a 
water in which a slight (Quantity of soft soap 
has been beat up, after the rate of an^donce 
of soft soap,, to three pounds* of the hemp,' 
vdien dry* Do not squeeze it out from this 
soap water, but hang it to drain.» and, when a 
little sti&ned, open the bundle a little, and 
lay it to dry on a grass plat or floor; the 
former is preferable* This soap water is not 
absolutely necessary ; but is <;ertainly of great 
Use (or softeningJbbe liemys and stadcriag^ 



pleasant and ea^ to dress ; but may be dis- 
pensed with, where it is very inconvenient, 
and where the hemp is intended for coarse 
purposes* It is obvious that dl these ope- 
rations would be carried on to the most ad- 
vantage near some Itlnning stream, or large 
lake, if it be a standh^ water, on account of 
the great use that is asade of that element, 
and to save a great deal of the trouble of 
transportation* 

When thus dried, the hemp is proper either 
for dressing or storing : if the latter, particu- 
lar care must be taken that it be thoroughly 
dry 3 it mtiU otherwise heat and spoil* As 
the hemp peculiariy intended to foe hitherto 
-spoken oi^ isAe female. Or flower-beariftg 
hemp, which is intended for fine uses, it is to 
be observed, that it must be worked with 
hacklffs or hatchels, such as are used for flax 
dressing, and may be brought to an extreme 
fineness; and the shbrts, having no pieces of 
straw or reed amcmg 4iem, may be carded 
and spqn, and brought into use for aQ the 
same purposes as cotton, and the same me- 
thods used for bleaching and softening* It is 
likewise requisite to work this hemp as soon 
as pulled, without which the greatest softness 
and whiteness cannot be obtained : and Us this 
sort is generally ripe betwecfn hay time' and 
harvest, when die weadner is warm and fine, 
and the women most at tiberty, it will be a 
suitable occasion to draw and cleanse die 
hemp* The dressmg may be reserved for 
winter*. 

I now proceed to speale of the male hetKt]p, 
which, being a more considerable crop, can- 
not ail be worked as fast as it is pulled or cut* 
It is known to be ripe enough by the stems 
becoming pale ; for if you stay tiB the tuft 
containing the seed appears ripe, or the stem 
turn* brown,, the hemp will be in a great mear 
sure spoked* When it is come to a proper 
mamnty, you must get a good number of 
hands, so as to expedite the bu^ess ; be- 
cause, sudi as remrnns standing, after it is 
ripe; wiU have its rind fixed to the reed, the 
gum turned hard and dark-coloured, and the 
whole op^mtion of drawing becomes difiicult, 
troublesome, and ungrateful* The leaves are 
to be stripped off" with a wooden sword, in 
the same manner as those of the female hemp, 
as are likewise the seed, the branches which 
grow laterally, and even the tuft bearing seed 
at the top : but if this latter should not come 
off clean, it must be chopt off with an iron in- 
strument* All this mustbe dene over a cloth, 
or on a spot of groimd ia.the field, well level- 
led 2md smoothed", tcy avoid losing^.any of tlie 
seed* And it is proposed, ^sSkA siaid to be 
successful, to leave the seed abroad, covered 
with the leaves, &c* to preserve it fi'om birds, 
in order that it may heat, and be dirashed'in 
the field, and the leaves and chaff strewed on 
the land* This, ceitainly saves tixMibie, and 
is ijractised in many parts, but seems to me 
sloventy : and I should, rather take it home 
to a barn* But 1 would certainly bum ail 
the roots^* and such parts as are too bard to 
rot easily, and strew the ashes as well as the 
leaves, and such other parts as will easily rot, 
upon the ground ; as these matters are reck- 
oi>e*l to- go half way towards manuring the 
land for neafit^eiur's erep* Tlie mals hemp, 



157 

thus stript of leaves and seed, will genemlly 
dry for stm-ing in twenty*foor hours ; but at 
any rate must not be left long a)>road, bwt 
rather taken into sheds to dry, which, when 
thus stript, it will speedU)' do. Sun and ram 
would soon spoil it* That, %vh]ch can be 
wrought green, must be treated as before set 
forth for the female hemp : and it is obvious 
that it is k great advantage to work it in this 
manner, ratlier than to dry and store it, which 
causes much trouUe and expense, and pro- 
duces less and worse hemp ; but where the 
crop is considerable, and the hands few, it is 
unavoidable* If, however, much rain come, 
it is impracticable to dry it for storing wiih- 
out spoiling^ as everyyear^s experience shows 
in the present received metnod : whereas, 
working |he hemp Kreen entirely avoids this 
disadvantage and mconveniency, and the 
hands engagj^d may continue thtir employ- 
ment under the shelter of trees, or of a tern- 
Eorary shed made of a fow rough poles and 
urdles, covered whh straw, reeds, &€* 
All the same procedure is to be used with 
the male as with the £eii}ale hemp, as te 
drawing, scouring, 8acc* : but as the r«eds of ^ 
it are less britde, and the rind coarser, it re- 
quires more soaking, but is easier to draw, 
and produces much more and stronger hemp* 
What is stored must, when wan^ to ht 
wrought, be soaked, pealed, washed, and in 
genenil treated as before stated* In cold 
weather, it takes long soaking* 

The calculation of e^cpenses and profit of an 
acre of hemp in England. 

£• J. d. 

Rent 308 per acr^ .*-. 1 9 

Manure Uie first year more than otbers» but it 
18 most acWantageoits to sow after a tomip 

crop— say 40s, 2 e 

Tkree ti^Ms pkiag^iii|^ and batrowins: - ^ - - 18 
Seed 2 buiheU«-i>ROt unknown, but in 

France 58. ^ - . - 10 • 

Pulling the female hemprand triniining - • - 10 6 
Cutting fnale^ and trimnmig for putting in 
water --------. ---...---..O 7 • 

Getting from the reed, and washing th<e fe- 
male, 71b per diem at 9d.— 50 bundles con- 
taining 135Ux—160d. : 5 OlS 6 

Getting the male fvom the teed, and wash- 
ing 141b. per diem at 9d.—375lb.^241d. - 1 1 
Sofl^ lOtb. nf price in France 3d. ..-..• 3 6 
Thrashing seed- - - 2 6 

Ifbtal expense 7 4 1 

Female herop> 1251b. at only ls« but worth in 

the rough much more --.-.- 6 5 (^ 

Seed IS bushels, at 5s. su pposed wndeivalned 4 9^ 

Male hemp 3751b. at T l-2d. pef lb. . - . . 11 14 S 

Fa^EgotB 1 

Total produce 32 19 
Total expense 7 4 1 

Total profit 15 14 11 

Suppose the expenses under-rated 208. per 
acre, and the gain ovec-rated 4L 15s. there 
still remains lOK clear gain ; to which is to 
be added, that the ftirdier improvement of 
the material in dressing aiid spinning, em- 
ploys the poor, and particularly women and 
children, who are a heavy burden to the farm- 
ei- in all coxmtries. 

. Men, in all ages, have been apt to luB 
their reason with chimeras. 



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158 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



AN ORIGINAL VALENTINE. 

l^t year, I tang thy pouting lip. 
More sweet to me than can of flip; 
But now, thine eyes attract my heart, 
Relictous as an apple tan: 
While treasures such as these are thine, 
Thoa still shah be my Valentine. 



FOE TUB RUEAI. tISlTEa. 

*« It must be so** — Pure love shall live for ever 
•* Shall gloriously survive old lime and DeathV-"- 
Man is the offspring of creative love ; 
Love the chief good and solace of his life; 
And love. leiined from earth, life's glorious end.— 
It must be so— pure love shall live for ever — 
Else why despised in love this liide world? 
Why loving look on danger with contempt ? 
Why, when with love repienish'd, rests tht sotil 
Content with liule of all other goods- 
Divest the soul of love, and what remains K 
Or can it wanting love exist at all ? 
What all man's appetite for fadingjoyi 
But love misguided, fixed on objects here 
That perish with the use ; the fiW mwt came 
That robs us of them all, and leaves a Wank— 
A void from which the soul abhorrent turns— 
But he who loves the soul of man or woman. 
Loves that which lasts coeval with his own ; 
Fearing no second death, no change of fortune 
To sei^arate him from tbia source of joy. 



V. 



There is something original and beautiful in the fol- 
lowing piece of jioetry, and having never seen it in 
print, I offer it to The Rural Visiter. C. 

THE BIRTH AND PROGRESS OF ECHO. 

Midst hollow rocks that wind along the vale, 

On undulating waves of cavemed air 

Was Echo bom— true to each parent totuid 

Its mimic actions, imitation forms 

To notes of melody or vows of love ; 

As wakes the shepherd's early pipe, the dawn, 

Or faithful hind oUls forth the sleeping fair. 

Not so— when rising from his peaceful rest. 
The pensive sage, steps forth to m«et his God— 
The pearly lawn impress'd bis path reveals, 
Whose pious offerings Echo cannot hear. 
Nor Zephyr tell— 4he gently falling tear, 
And heart^olacing sigh, still consecrate 
The pious adoration of his soul : 
His whispered vows are often heard in heaven 
Ere yet the full orb'd sun lights up the day. 
Or faded landscape freshens to his view; 
A brighter sun by far, a richer scene. 
His mental sight unfolds, whose firm belie£ 
Can hail the second advent of his Lord, 
And frame his life to the pore laws of heaven. 
The world is deaf— from the loud din of war 
The trembling dove affrighted seeks the ark 
1*0 rest beneath its shade ; nor olive bears 
(A peaceful omen^ yet. The cannons roar. 
And the sad shrievs that wait the victor's arm 
Have filled with horror Echo's inmost cell. 

Oh! when will man learn wisdom from the page 
Of truth divinely taught, the small still voice 
Confin'd to narrow circles scarce as yet. 
Reveals its wonders to the astonished ear. 
Yet true the prophecy,* the time shall come. 
When the ten laws tnat erst from Sinai's top 
Struck terror to the adamantine heart, 
(Laws of delight and not of rigid rule) 
Unfolding all their hidden excellence, 
Will guide man's purpose, to secure his peace. 
The time shall come when man will ghull) lend 
His ruthless sword, to plough the fertile globe. 
When the bent spear, shall reapthe golden grain. 
The serpent lose its venom, aiid the wolf 
Feed with the sportive lamb; love's sacred law 
In chains indissoluble bind all hearts, 
And tune the soul to heavenly harmony: 
The loud Hosannas shall the nations sing, 
And while the glorious anthem angels join, 
Tke vniverK shall Echo to the suaiii. 



Selected by a Lady for The Rural Visiter. 

How swiftly time flies, and the longer we live 

Si ill fleeter it hastens away; 
For what in perspecti^re seems ages to give 

In retrospect is biit a day. 
I've gathered life's roses, and felt the sharp thorn 

Which lay in t.»e paths where I strayed j 
The roses were bright as the vapour of mom. 

And alas! like a vapour would fade. 
The thorn still remained, and ii rankled my breast. 

When a white piuion*d seraph appeared. 
It was mild Resigna.ion. she soath'd me to rest. 

And the path of my pilgrimage sieer'd. 
She whispered so soft, her voice sunk in my soul, 

•• Vain mortal, forbear to repine ; 
. •* If here the rude ]>assions you learn to control 

'* Know pleasuren eternal are thine." 

She show'd me a female, who placed on a rock 

Immoveable fix'dscem'd to stand; 
The tempest beat round her, she felt not the shock, 

T*wards heaven she pointed her hand. 
•• Behold (cried my comforter) shrouded in light, 

" The cross deck'd >% ith triumph appears ; 
" Then say what jo^ linow in this valley of night 

" Defining your hopes or your fears." 

As she spoke, every flower its beauty renewed. 

Her breath was so fragrant and sweet ; 
And as the blest sirn of ledemption I view'd 

The thorn pointless fell at my ft^t. 
The time's rapid flight I no Ipnger deplore, 

His scythe without terror I see; 
When his glass shall be broken, hia reign be no more. 

Eternity opens on me. EMMA. 

FRIENDSHIP 

Is the great medicine of life We were bom for socie- 
t> , and the mind never so effectually unburdens itself 
as in the conversation of a well chosen friend. Happy 
they who find such a treasure. •• It is more precious 
than thousands ot gold or silver." Great care^ indeed, 
judgment, taste, and vigilance arc absolutely necessary 
to direct you in the choke. A strict Friendship is 
adopting, as it were, the sentiments, the manners, the 
morals, and almost the happiness or misery of others. 
Religion should guide you on this occasion. None but 
a good person is capable of true attachment, and I 
trust, with you, no other would assimilate. If you can 
meet with such a character, who, at the same time, 
has a liberal and cultivated mind, you arc nch indeed ! 
Sincere Friendships are, more generally, formed at an 
early age. The heart, in this tender senaon, is soft 
and nnsuspicious. It is amazing how the little tu- 
mults of life afterward jostle us against, and put os out 
of humour and conceit w ith one another. Sensibility be- 
comes petrified by age and observation. Ambition, 
avarice, and the little paltry c<«mpetitioiia, freeze ap 
the generous current of the soul. 

Bennett Letten. 
(fj* The compositors in the OJice ol the 
Rural Visiter present their respects to the 
public^ and inform them that in this enligh-^ 
tened age, italics are not only out of fashion^ 
but entirely unnecessary ' 



Died, in Waterford, (Ireland) the Rev. J. Dicksox. 
He was in his desk, and had just ^ven as his text, 
" We must all appear before the judgment seat of 
Christ," when he feH down in his pulpit, and instantly 
expired. 




Februart 
3d week. 


DM. 


Sun rises 
H. M. 


'Sun sets 
H. M 


Mtom'ipbasei. 


2d day. 


18 


&40 


5 20 


?sr? 


3d day. 


19 


6 39 


5 21 


2S=: 


4th day. 


20 


6 38 


5 22 


Jg5»P 


5th day. 


21 


6 37 


S2:i 


T:-t^?5 


6th day. 


22 


6 3S 


5 25 


7th day. 


23 


6 34 


5 26 


kSM^S 


1st day. 


24 


633 


5 27 


> X t 



TO CORRESPONDENTS. 
We .are prevented from giving a plan of the stove 
mentioned in a former number, by an error in the plate 
—it is returned to the engraver to be rectified, and we 
hope in our next to present this judicious improve- 
ment to our readers^- 

Alfred, X«eattder, £zekic], Roland, and J. B. sfaaU 
soon begratifiedbyaaint«,di.cUonto^tke ladies. 



INTELLIGENCE. 



The following is a copy of a letter from the Graa4 
Judgv^ Minister of Justice, to the President of the 
council of Prizes. 

«« Paris, Dec. 25.^-^ir, The Minister for Fmeifi 
Affairs, m pursuance of the orders of his Majesty the 
Emperor and king, addressed on the 5th Ai^^t, to 
the Plenipotentiary of the United States a£ America, 
a Nt)te, containing the f >Uuwing words <—'* In canae- 
qucnce of the engagement of ihe government of the 
United Stages to cause its rights to be rv*spected, hit 
Majesty orders thai aU causes which ma.> be pending 
before the Councd of Prizes, respecting captures of 
American vessels, d;itinjr from the 1st November, and 
those which ma> be afterwards brought befbre uid 
court) shall not be decided upon, according to the prin- 
ciples of the Beriin and Milan decrees, but shall is. 
main suspended; the vessels previously seized being 
only placed urder sequestration, reserving to the pro- 
prietors their rights until tJie 2d of February next, the 
period when in consequence of the United States hi?. 
ihg fulfilled the engagement of causing their rights to 
be respected, the saul prizes mtist be declared uuU by 
the Council, and the American vessels restored with 
their cargoes to the proprietors. 

** Accept, sir, fresh assurances. 
(Signed) «* The Duke of MASSA.** 

Superadded to the above is the alarming intelligence 
of 130 American vessels and cargoes being seized ia 
Sweden urider Bona|iarte*s new decree! ! 

Gen. Serrurier confirms the accounts that there is 
no revocation of the Berimor Milan decrees, as to dcq- 
trals, and no relaxation in the vigilance of pnvateers, 
in capturing every vessel they fall in with Gen. Mas- 
sena is stated to have retreated to the froncien of 
Spain, where it is believed he will winter. 

A letter from Liverpool of the 7th of January states, 
that a large convoy from the Baltick, was captured by 
the Danes, amongst which, it is said, were ONE 
HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN American vessels. 
The last accounts from England state that the Prince 
of Wales was about being appointed Regent during 
the king's indisposition. Lucien Qpnaparte and familf 
had arrived there. 

The Swedish government have avowed that in de- 
claring war againt Great Britain, their object was ts 
give Bonaparte a proof that no secret uoderstandiq{ 
subsisted between the two governments 

An insurrection is reported to have broken out it 
Madrid, which for a time menaced the life and liberty 
of Joseph Bonaparte. The military from the neigh- 
bouring provinces, succeeded in suppressing it ; htt 
Napoleon had in consequence, resolved to recall hb 
brother, and annex Spain to the French Empire. 

DOMBSTIO. 

A Bill has been brought into Congress for the ttUt 
blishment of a Militarr Academy in the United Sates, 
and passed to a second and thirtl reading —Mr. Knott 
reported a bill for the preservation of oysters!! The 
committee of the senate have reported to that body a 
bill to renew the charter of the United States fiank 
for twenty years. The capital stock is to be increased 
five millions of dollars, inaking the whole amoimt of 
capital 2 15,000,000. The president of the U. States b 
to appoint annitally, with the advice and consent of 
the senate, a certain porti ?n of the directors. No votes 
tor directors to be given by proxy. The sum to be paid 
by the bank as the prke of the charter, is left Wank. 
A private letter from New -York states, that the city 
is in the utmost gloom and distress on account of the 
opposi>t3n to the renewal of tlM charter. Business is 
stopped, and failures are continnaUy taking place. 
' The legislature of New-Jersey have pass^ a bill M 
authorize the sah of the estate of Isaac Govemeor. 

Ship Commodore Rogers, in a short passage from 
Ba/onne,.has arriiM in the Chesapeake, Geo. Setrs* 
rier, the new French consul, and snite, came passen- 
gers in her, and landed at Norfolk* 

The Baltimore American says, that it is ia contem- 
plation to caU the new State, created out of this tern- 
t«r/ •f Oikias, «k€ State of Jfei«noo. 



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Dr. CLARK'S COMMENTARH^S 



UION THE BIBLE. 



DANIEL FEKTON, 

MlLLRILt> NIAR TRENTOM9 

Rcfpcflfully itjforms the public in general, and 
hs fubfcribcrs , in particular, that he has rtho- 
^uifhed his purpofe of printing Dr. Clarlu's Com- 
mentary > having l^een recently convinced that Mr. 
E. SaFgeant of Niw-York is publifhiog them for 
' the benefit of the AutHOR. But Mr. J. F. 
Watfon, of Phimelphia, and Daniel Fenton, 
having pufchafeda part of this edition for the 
fupply of NcwTejfey, Philadelphia, &c. arc now 
prepared to deiivf'r the firft number to any prefent 
lubforiber s, and la as many nv>re as wilfj to pof- 
fefs themfelves ff this invaluable work. To thofe 
who are unacmiainted with the merits of this 
(perhaps) greatest commcntarv ever offered to the 
Chriftian world, it may furacc to fay, that it is 
patronifed by clergymen of e\'ery denominalion. 
There arc at prefent 46 clergymen fubfcrtbers in 
the city of New- York, and near 500 citizens, 
although the lift is pi-obably not more than half 
completed. It pofleiles the peculiar merit of fa- 
miliarifing the rareil Biblical learning to the plain- 
ed capacities. The ^rious languages ot the 
world, as often as they are quoted, are" put down 
m their original characters, and are always trans- 
lated for the benefit of the unlearned reader. 

IN THIS WORK 

The whole of the text has been collated with 
iht Hebrew and Greek originals, and all the an- 
cient Tcrliont. The moft difficult words analyzed 
and explained :— The moft important wading? in 
the Hebrew collections of Kennicott and De 
Ro<E, and in the Greek collectior^s of MilU and 
Wcifttin, and Griefl>ach, noticed: — The pecu- 
liar cuftoms of the Jews and neighb<nning nations 
fo frequently alluded to by the prophets, ev*nge- 
Wl9» and apoftJes, explained from the beti .llia- 
tic HUthoriMe? ; — TK<? g.eat doctrines of the Ltw 
a«d Gofpcl of God defined, illuftratcd and^^^- 
fended ; and the whole apglied-t^ >'•'- ""H'JttiiH 
purpofes of fKACTICALCHRlSTIANI FY 
and Vital Gordlbefs, designed as a help to a bet- 
ter underftanding of the Sacred Writings. 

Gentlemen aad Ladies' who may wifii to p^^flVfs 
tliemfelvcs of ihls invaluable work, are re<pcc>fu!ly 
requefted to find their names to Daniel Fentoii. 
Suhfcriptions for the work v. ill alfo b« received by 
William S. Stockton of Burlington^ who will 
deliver the nombcrs as pubH(hed, to any fubcri- 
bers in or near Burlingtooi who noay call ibr 
them. 



RECOMMENDATION. 

The advantagci d^^Wed from the labours of the 
many eminent ircn who have devoted their ta- 
lents to the elucidation of the Holy Scriptures, 
have been fo grert and decided, that the Chrif- 
tian public tnuftalvays receive with pleafure every 
honeft and judicious attempt to aHd to thei^ infor- 
mation on tim urfpealiably important branch of 
learning. But hoy far the laborious Ccmmenta' 
r'w end Critka! A^/fx of the Rev Dr. Adam 
Clark may iocre^fe the m«fs of Biblical know- 
ledge already exifling in the Chrillian world can- 
not readily be detjtnSined by a perufal of the few 
I which have as yti been made public. From thefc 
however, I thin^ we are authorifed to expe^l that 
much light iffilt be thrown upou many obfcute 



pafTjges of the Scriptures, that many cavils of ub- 
believers will be anfwercd, or removed, that the 
beauty of holinefs will be exhibited in its native 
charms, and that the great and fundamental doc- 
trines of Chriliianity, will be dcmonftrated with 
fuch perfpicuity, and enforced with fuch earnell- 
nefs as will bend the underftanding of every candid 
reader to the admifTion of divine truths, and kin- 
dle in his heart the raptures of devotion. The 
learned author profeflls ihis to be the aim, and 
end of his labours ; and if the reader (hould oc- 
cafion;*lly me^t with a departure from received 
opinions on points unconnc(5lcd with Chriftian 
do(Jlrines, or pra(flice, he will not haftily conclude 
that this end has not been anfwered. 

For my own part, I have no hediation in de- 
claring, that from what I haveften, I have tetn 
both inftru;5led, ediiitd, and impreiTcd with a 
high idea of the Auihur's erudition, judgment, 
and piety, 

CHARLES H. WHARTON, D. D. 

VALUABLE PROlPERTY 

FOR SALE. 

Situate in the townfhip of Evefham, in tho 
county of Burlington, and ftatc of New-Jerfcy; 
being about 1 2 miles from Cooper's Ferry on the 
fou^ern road to Mount Holly t 5 miles from the 
latter place, and 3 from Mooreftown near Evefltam 
meeting houfe: Said property condfts of about 4 
acres 2 roods and 6 perches of land, on which 
is a good two ftory dwclling-houfe, with an addi- 
tion now occupied as a ftore of dry goods, groce- 
ries &c. &c Alfo, befidcis o<her buildings, a large * 
BLACKSMITH'S SH01\ which hris for more 
than 10 years paft been fiimifhed wiih a good and 
fufficient run of cuftom, as it i; at tfiis time: and 
a \VHEEl.WK](;HT's SHOP, now chiefly 
employed in making Peacock' Patent Pk.i^h .\ but 
the great call for carriage^ makes it an object woith 
carrying on the fevera^ branches together. 

The lot is in a lugh ftate of culiivati n, and is 
planted with a variety of aTuabit Friituees: a 

cafy; every other mfornia'lfn may be obtained by 
application on the prcmifes, to 

JOHN HUNT Jun. 
Feb. II. — 3t. 



NOTICE 

Is hereby given, that the fubfcribers infolvent 
debtor confined in the jail of the county of Bur- 
lington en execAition for debt, have applied to the 
Judges of the Court of Common Pleas of said 
County, to be difchargedfrom confinement accord- 
ing to the Laws of New Jcrfey, pafFed for the re- 
lief of perfons imprifoned for debt, &c. and the 
faid Judges have appointed Tuefday the 19th day 
of March next, at the Court Houfe in Mount- 
Holly in the county aforefaid. to hear what cto 
be alleged for or againft our liberation. 
NA'fHAN ADAMS, 
EBENEZER TROY, 
SETH ANDREWS. 
SAMUEL FLNIMORE, jun. 

his 

JOSEPH X HELBERSON, 

mark 

his 

JAMES X BURCH, 

mark 
CHARLES COX, 
SAMUEL STRETCH. 
Burlington Frifon, Fcbr 15th, iSfl. 



Divir! AHinsoQ respectfully informs 
the public, thai he has taken his bro- 
ther John C. Allinson into partnership ; 
business viill therefore be conducted in 
future under the firm of David Al- 
linson & Co. who hope by au assi- 
duous attention to the Printing and 
Bookbinding, to ensure the* good will 
of their patrons* # 

iy David Allinson, takes the liberty 
of sending this week's paper to a num- 
ber of his particular friends southward ; 
it being the only method of A^'hich lie 
can avail himself to invite the patron- 
age of those whose names to their list 
will, on several considerations, be ac- 
ceprkble. The Editors engage to supply 
their patrons with complete sets if they 
will favour them with their subscription 
• to the gentlemen named as agents in 
their rcspe^Jtve neighbourhoods. 

the Pit rat Vuiier^ arc author hed to rva-ivc 
suh'crthUoTis and give revet f^th on behalf of 
tht Editor: Jamca P. Purkc, RoohdUr, No. 
75, Chcsniit St. PAladcfphia; Ezra Sargcant^ 
corner of Broudway and Wall Strtet^ Nnv- 
Tork; Rkhard M* Coop.r^ Camdot ; David 
C, IVood^ IVoodburif; 1 'r.mas Redvian^ juiu 
Hadd^vfeld ; Sa.nuelCok'^ or GfUert Page^ 
Mooreatoum ; Alexander Shira^r^ Mount' 
Holly; Lane Carlhle^ Nciv-Mid^ ; Charles . 
Lai ur ewe. Bordentoum ;jk. &? y. Simmons^ 
Chest^rfeid; Daniel Leigh^ Alhntown,- John 
Handlnj^Crar.lerry; Janie^ Oran\ Trenton^ 
S\ Jhrford^ Princeton ; Bernard Smithy N. 
Brunfrsvick ; Siht>on Drahe^ A>nhoy ; James 
Jackson^ Woodhridg'e; Richard Mv^h-^ Rah- 

Matthias- Day^ Neivark i Jf,},fyh Bring- 
hurst^ Wibvingt'in^ (Lk-L) Ar,L rt S. Sviith^ 
Chribtianiui ; Rev, John E» Latta/Neyiyjas- 
tie; John Barrett^ Esq* Dover: Thomas 
WainwriglUy Camden; David Pay nter^ Lero^ 
istoivn : Gallaudette Oliver^ Mi ford ; IVnu 
H. W:4ls^ Ea^* Dagsborouglu Izak Proc- 
ter^ BaUi more ^ (Manj^andJ ; Geo, Mitchell^ 
Llkton ; Ambrae White^ Snowhill ; James 
A. CclltnSj Pop!arto7vn cmd Berlin* JoHet)h 
Miliigan^ Geovi^etoivn^ D. C. Pi(hard l/tlcy 
Alex. Cnkh Bonsai, N: rfolk, F'V.^>-. ; Philip 
Fister^ Richmoiui; E. C, Blake^ Peterfjburg; 
R. Wilson^ Frederickrh'rg ; T. Brvndzge^ 
Duh fries ; Cr^j^^er and B-'nuliek Acco- 
ma^k ; Dr. Pr.'j^rr, Ncriha-iptcn ; Bender- 
son and Cok\ IVHI'cv.ut'ur^q' ; Robert Jo'r- 
don. Sly folk. Post.jir.s'.cr, &:ndor, N. Cr o- 
Una ; Jos* B. Hinton, lVash?ngto7^ ; J'^'n 
Harvey, Newbern ; Rev* J.\^se Jenne t, 
Wilmington ; N* Braiision, Faifettt'vUle R^zu 
S. Hal/'hig^ Georgefc-vn, S. C urolhia ; Daiu 
Latham, jun * Charles: ' on. Mutiy ofth e>:e per* 
soni rtn^aho frwnd cov.irrjoiicati'-.Hs for 
the P'lrif Viaiier Sffdy and free of c::p.'vse* 



Published Weekly, bif i). Adins'in, ^' €0. 

CITY or BURLIHOTON, N J. 

Price two Dollars si xr; -two Cents frr Volume fir^t 
peeyable semi-aonuaU/ in advance. 



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DAVID ALLINS5N, 

IS PREPAHING TO PUBLISH, 
A KEW 

CRITICAL 

PllONOCrNCING DICTIONARY 

/ 

V * or THE 

ENGltSH LANGUAGE. 

CONTAINING, 

1- All the wonls in ceneral use, with th«ir $5g- ' 
' ni.'icarions accurately explained, and the sound 

of each syllable clearly expressed : among 
which will be found several hundred ttrma, 
v.'v.h their accept! ona and derivations, which 
-apjj^ar \o h^ve been hitherto omitted by the 
host lexicog.aphers : also, a variety of the 
iculmical terms of medici^ie, law, commerce, 
•arts, and general science. The whole inter- 
»|)ersed with critical and philological observa- 
tions, and references to the respective autho- 
rities. To which will be prefixed Mr. Walk- 
er's principles of English pronunciation. 

2. A nomenclature of the names of distin- 
gnished perswia and places of antiquity; com- 
pri.«ing a sketch of the mythology,^ history, 
and biography of the ancients, from eiie most 
authentick sources. 

3. A chronological table of remarkable t>ccur- 
# rerices from the eatliest ages tQ the present 

time : concaining whatever is "worthy of re- 
cord ; as discoveries, inventions, &c. &c. 

Ckfinpded fro^n Authort cftht most approved Reputation, 

vfitb congnlerable Additions : 

By AST AMfcaiCAV GENTLEMAN. 

Ad lea pulcherrimas erutaS alieno labore deducimiir. 

.Seneca. 

TEKMS. 

1., THis new and improved key to the English Lan- 
g^iage, will coirprchend as nearly "as can.be ascertain- 
ed, 1000 or 1200 cbsely printed pagiJ^ roy^l octavo. 
An elegant pressed paper, and a new type of a disp . 
t^ict and beautiful appearance are nOw preparing t'o^ 
>? i ftud •»*«^ joroo g^sheecs wilM jfi-freroHy ^xaminci''^ 
andca?i^ctea by g^liuemeu CTabiJity ifv^Ktt lin«u 

3. l*hc biijbing shall be good butT, which m heavy 
books IS preferable for strength, ^auty and durability; 
the materials arc to be of the best kind and carefully 
inspected. Those who wish their books to match a 
library, or bouiidin a different style, cao be furniihed 
with them in boards at a deduction of thirty-seven and 
a half cents. No exertion oa the part of the publisher 
shall be omitted, whldi can tend to render the work 
valuable to his patrons. 

3. The present subscription price of the Work will 
be Five Dollars, two dollars of which must be paid 
at Uie time o£ subscribing. The Editor trusts, that 
considering the e.\tr4ordinary expenses necessarily 
attendant on the publicatiou of a wprk of this nature 
and magnitude ; and the numerous as weil as valuable 
additions made, the terms will be considjered as un- . 
usually reasonable, and will justify his requisition of 
this sidvance. The price will, as soon .as the work 
goes to press, rise to Six Dollars ; and it is expected 
*thatit wdl retail at the advanced priceof Eight Dollars* 

Should the wurk exceed 1200 pages, forty cents for 
every additional hundred will be indispens'ibly neces- 
sary. 



RECOMMENDATIONS. 

A Criiical Pronouncing DiGUonaryi aod ex^ 
|H)Ctor of the Engliih Language, ,publi(hed at the 
reduced price, and with the additions contem« 
plated in the plan now offered to the public, would 
p^ove unqueitionably a very defiraUe acceiBon to 
American literature ; and if it co«ld be executed 
with fuch judgmcRt and ufte as to become a kind 
of ilandard authority among us, it would pre- 
ierrt the EngliAi Language in its prefent pu1ii]F- 



aod elegance, tiy preventing its rannicg into thofe 
local idioms, and provincial *^ vurgartfms, which 
are beginning to impair rhe harmony, and embar- 
rafs the perfpicnity of our mother tongue. Pro- 
nunciation, indeed, from its very j:iature, muff al- 
ways remain in fome degree an arbitrary thing ; 
and all that a dictionary can do, is to adopt as 
many general rules as poffible to «ftabli(h a uni- 
formity in this particular ; and where rules are 
not laid down, to collect the appropriate found 
of words from the laoguage of th? pulpit, the 
bar, the theatre, and other circles of poliflied 
fbciety. If this can be done, (and we truft it 
will bt done in the prefcnt publication,) the young 
writer or fpcaker will feel a confidence that, his 
pronunciation is correct, and be no longer embar- 
raffed with the ambiguities with which fome mo- 
dern language makers have endeavoured to im- 
prove, or rather to puzzle the cftablifhed fimplicity 
and harmony of the Englifli toague. When to 
thefe advantages we add moreover, thofe which 
this propofed Dictionary offers, ariiing from a 
fuccindt account lof diftinguifhcd perfons and places 
of antiquity, &c. &c. from a chronological table of 
iraporunt events, and other ufeful items, an- 
nounced by the publifher of this work, I think 
he may confidently hope for fuch a (hare of the 
public ptronage, as may compenfate his labours 
and his expenfes iip^this ufeful and coilly under- 
taking. 

CHARLES H. WHARTON, D. D. 

Hector of St. Mar/s, Burlington, N. y, 
Dec. 11, 1810. 

If the work be executed }ti^ the manner pro- 
t pofed by thci Editor in his profpeAus, I cordially 
unite in the abov^ecommendation, and think it 
highly deferving of^ublic patronage. 

ELLAS BOUDINOT, L. L. D. 
Burlington, Dec. 17. 1810. 
* 
That a work of tlic Jdcd propofed, combining 
in its performance all the perfeiftions and exceL> 
lencos of former DI(5tionaries, with fo much new 
and ufefi^ matter, mufUbg^a^^great acquifition to 

tion : the only inquir^ mun be on a fulfilment of 
the propo&ls. From my knowledge of the £di* 
tor, his ^principles, and the aids he will have, I 
think no doubt need be entertained on that head* 
WILLIAM GRIFFITH. 

Burlington City, Dec 18, 1810. 

We dteerfuUy concur with the above naided 
Gentlemen, ii* ^ifliing the mofl complete fuccefis 
to Mr. Allinfoti, in the pubficatlon and fale of 
his propofed Dictionary. His adoption a^ Mrw 
Walker's principles and accentuation, together 
with the addition of many terms, Bcc. not no^ced 
by Mr. Walker, will render it a truly valuable 
work ; and the high literary reputation of the 
gentlemen who have promifcd to fuperintend ite 
pteparation for the prefs, muft enfure its aecuracyi 
its elegance, and its ufefulnefs. 

JOHN ANDREWS, D.D. 

Prmjost of the Uni'orrsity of Perinsylvania, 

JAMES ABERCROMBIE, D. D. 

PrivcipalTf the Pktlttdefphia Academy, 
Phikdelphia. Dec. 29» 181 1. 

s 

To the obfervations and provifional' recom- 
mendations expreffed above^ I cheerfully add my 
concurrence ; and wifti fucceS to an undertaking 
which I hope will be pantctilarly ofeful to oux 
American youth. 

SAMUEL S. SMITH, D, D. L. L. D. 

Presidatt of KaMau-^HaU, Princetm, 
Jan. X 1811- 



r 



From the induftiy and aflfduity o^ytr. David 
Aflinfon, and the aVIe alidance which k^ has bees 
proroifed and has fuiiicient ground to Up- for ; 
w0 believe the Di<fKonary he propofes ^publifh, 
will be fuch, as to fMl the expedations thi public 
may form from his Profpedhis ;>nd that tli^ may 
have fufHcient confidence in Mr. Allinfon to i^alK 
the advanced fubicHption he reauires. 

i JOSEPH BLDOMFIELD, 

^VoVen^r of Nefv-'Jo'tey, 
Wm. COXE, -) 

CHARES KINSEY, f CityofBuf. 

JOSEPH M*ILVAINE, f Hngton. i»j. 
SAMUEL TUCKER, m. d J 



TAN YARD FOR SALE, 

The fobfcriber offers for (ale the Lot oo whicli 
he lives, fituate in Upper- Freehold* Monmouth 
Co. N. J. on the main road from- Philadelphia to 
Long Branch, containing about zo seres, on which 
are erected a good two fiory frame dwelling houfe, 
with a pump of excellent water by the door; 
fhble, ice houfe, (full of ice) a tanyard with the 
neceflary buildings and apfurtenanccs, a currying 
and fhoemaker's fhop^ There is alfo a coorenient 
tenant's houfe on the premifes, and a yooog or- 
chard of felected grafts. The fttnation is one of 
the bed in the flate for procuring bark, which 
may be had in any quantity at four to fix <lollan 
per cord. 

The above property will be fo!d either with or 
without the flock in trade, ns may befl fint the 
purcbafcr. For further particnl^rs inquire of the 
fubfcriber on the preraifis,. ««Ko wiii ^snt a good 
title and pofleflion when required. 

JOSHUA BARKER. 

Upper Freebctd, lit Mb. 25, l8iK. 



V PtfBLIC SALE, ^ 

1*0 be fold at poUic vendue on faiufrdaf tibe 9thi 
oi march ne^r A two ftpry fiasit Sm*e« awl 
mck..Hi2L«& adjotning-->a large ^ coDTeniem 
two (lory ubneT^entii^Vfida kr^p krick Saioke^ 
koufe; on a lot of i 3-4 acres of fue^t LAND 
lying in the yiUage of Black-bMb, townflup of 
MsmsMd, county of Burlipgton, padliate of N.J. 
' This ftaod has been occupLq^ for many yean 
pad as a (lore, and .is equal to iny |l the Deigh« 
bourbood for a country (loro. JThi V«mIkc to 
begin at one o'clock on &td dajfi on tbe premifcs; 
•where attendance will be ^v^ aifd conditions 
made known bf 1 ' , 

JOHN ipiOGNARD- 



TO BE LETt 



The plantation bekmging 
whereon John Pharos now li^» 
particuian inquire of 

AMOS 

Burlbgton, Jan. 51, iSxi. 



the fuUcriber, 
For fonber 



HUTCHIN. 



• ADVERTISEMINTj 

The copartnerfhip of Slee/er & Ev^tham is. 
this day diffolved by mutual tdpfent Tbofc who 
have unfettled accounts with tlje Firii, are hereby 
requeued to call on John Elerham for a fettle, 
meat. 

nehemiah sleeper. 

JOHN EVEltHAM. 
3 Mo. 1. leii. tf 



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** Homo sym ; humani nihil a me aUenuni puto.^^ — Man aiid his carts to me a man^ are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLING! QN> SECOND MONTH (FEBRUARY) 25th, 18U. 



THE RECORDER- 

No. XXX. 

Tlic author of the Recorder acknowledges 
tjie receipt of twoanonjnnous letters throvigh 
the medium of the Editor of the Visiter* 
To ** AmicuiP'' he tenders his thanks for the 
. polite manner in which he has proposed an 
amendment in his writings. The subject is 
one which merits consideration. Authors 
however, indulge in that style of writing 
most congenial to their dispositions and feel- 
iiigs, and while one with a smile upon his 
face, and with good humoured raillery will 
point out an error in a friend^s conduct, ano- 
ther with more vehement feelings, will pour 
out his invective against tfie fault. The two 
modes have each their advantages and de- 
fects. With the proud and obsUnate the 
former would be more effectual, with the 
timid and virtuously inclined, perhaps the 
latter. With those who have just comnJen- 
ced the career of vice, whose hearts are still 
inclined towards virtue the manner pursued 
by Horace, might produce more useful re- 
sults ; with those whose souls have become 
callous by a continued series of guilty ac- 
tions, who require a strong shock before 
icitty can perceive an impression, Juvenal 
would act more powerfully. Perhaps I may 
add that the former is best adapted to those 
who have passed their youth ; the other to 
those who are now enjoying it. From this 
view of the subject, sug^sted principaliy by 
the letter of Amicus^ it would appear that 
from their conjimction, better effects mtjjht 
accrue than from either singly. ^ I theretorc 
have resolved^ after due consideration, to 
adopt the manner proposed by Amicus^ as 
far as lies in my power. 

From Lucyalso I may be able to dmw 
advantage. Though I by no means wish to 
eocourage her in the feelings which she 
seems inclined to indulge towards her almt, 
and though her curiosity scarcely meritr in- 
dulgence, it may perhaps gratify her to bear 
that after she has carefully read the Record- 
er, she knows as much of the Latin motto 
prefixed to it as she can possiblv need* "WiA 
respect to what she says has been told her, 
I suppose it scarcely needs even a deniaL 

The following are die letters from my un- 
known correspondents. 
♦* Dear Jmham^ 

** I am one of your warmest admi^rs, 
most constant readers, and sincere friends : 
in the latter capacity I now address you. 
Much as I venerate and admire that purity 
and morality of sentiment which pervades 
your valuaWe papers— much as I esteem the 
goodness of h^art and benevolence so obvi- 
ously manifested by you m the numbers of I 



No. 31. 



the Recorder, it is the interest I feel in the 
success of your labours, that has prompted 
me to offer you a few of my thoughts upon a 
particular point intimately connected with 
the end you have in v4ew, as a humble tri- 
bute of my friendship. One so much my 
superior in age, in wisdom, find experience, 
I might perhaps rationally suppose much 
better qualified than myself to lorm a cor- 
rect opmion on this subject. This idea would 
have induced me to remain silent, had I not 
reason to believe that in you I would find a 
man neither opiniative nor warped by preju- 
dice; but willing and desirous to receive 
a useful hint from whatever quarter it 
might proceed, how humble soever the 
source. Under these impressions I hope 
you will excuse my suggesting an altera- 
tion in your manner of writing, and express- 
ing a wish that you would diversify your 
style. In my opmion this would be found 
productive ot more general utility* How- 
ever we may admire pure morality and reli- 
gion when inculcated in a manner calculated 
to please as well as instruct ; yet there will 
ever be sonve individuals who are averse to 
any thing like a sermon. Tell them the 
Recorder is a paper devoted to morality, 
and inculcating virtuous rules of conduct, 
and it will be a sufficient reason with them 
never to look into it. Others who are fond 
of occasionally being reminded of their du^, 
soon become wearied with viewing a picture 
of moral rectitude however admirably por- 
trayed; they are fond of meeting sometimes 
with scintUlations of imagination, vivid 
flashes of wit, with tales to rouse the virtu- 
ous and benevolent affections of their hearts* 
Now though' it would grieve me very much 
to see Ae character which the Recorder has 
hitherto supported, abandoned, and become 
a receptacle of insipid and trite jests or even 
to substitute the highest reputation for wit 
and amusement ; yet it would I think be a 
great furtherance of the end you have in 
view, if you would at times indulge yourself 
and your readers in something not quite so 
serious. Those persons who stand in most 
need of reformation would be induced to 
read your papers in search of something 
amusing, and might thus be surprised into a 
train of thought which might work a tiio- 
rough change in the complexion of their 
characters* For the most part I would pre- 
fer that you should still preserve your pre- 
sent form and appearance ; but surely some- 
times ridicule has more power over vice 
than invective. Horace, though perhaps 
not quite so admirable a satirist as Juvenal, 
yet probably did as much good to his coun- 
trymen; and had his example corroborated 
the^ precepts of his pen, he might have 



proved of still more utility. Boileau, Pope, 
and Gifford have by their examples proved 
that they may be united with effect; and 
indeed it is evident from a consideration oi 
the principles which actuate men ; that it is 
the pfeferable way to use as great a varirty 
of means as possible, when they ajincide iii 
principle and in the end in view. The vari- 
ous arD;ument3 that might be adduced to 
establish this truth, will present themselves 
readily to your mind. I should not have 
cited the examples of these gitat men had I 
not been desirous to inform you that I was 
acquainted with their existence, and did not 
merely offer my personal opinion. To have 
mentioned them as affording • data from 
which you might judge was not my object, 
but to enable you to perceive that my opi- 
nion was formed after investigation, and with 
opportunities of arriving at correct determi- 
nations. Should you take \his matter into 
consideratic n, whether you agree with me or 
no, it wiU veiy much gratify. Yours, &c. 

AMICUS." 
" To the Recorder. 

*^sm, 

" f am a young lady who often read your 
papers and was much pleased with the ac- 
count «; ou gave of your grandmother; though 
to be sure it was a littie queer that you 
should have a grandmother. I wish you 
would again write something more about 
her. It made me think you meant it for my 
aunt ; for it was just like her, and some 
folks tell me that every person you talk of 
lives in New- Jersey. My aunt'did'nt like 
that number of the Recorder at all ; she said 
Imham ought to be ashamed to make people 
laugh at old women, and this made me think 
the more tha: rou meant it for her. I wish 
too you would*nt put in so much Latin, 
without you tdl us yvhsx it means, for indeed 
I can't find out, and it is what I would 
sooner know than all the rest put together. 
I hope you won't find out who writes this. 

LUCY." 



Thost perscms are most delighted with 
the ancient writers, who understand them 
best ; and none affect to despise them, but 
they who are ignorant of their value. 

Ev^y man of learning wishes that his son 
may be learned. 

the knowledge of the dassicks is the best 
foundation to the study of the law, phystck, 
theology, rhetorick, agriculture, and other 
honouraUe arts and sciences. 

In youth, as in vegetables, they only shew 
what js to be expected from tiieir' virtue 
when arrived at its maturity, and what a rich 
harvest b to spring from their industrj^ 



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160 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



SBLBCTBD T0% TVB K0ftA.X. VlfITBB« 

FREE WILL. 

When tb« great Source of Life (ere life b^;«i 
To animate his glorioiu image— man,) 
Gave birth to nature, and confinned her laws. 
Herself i^e mediate— He, the.grcat Firtt Cause, 
By love conceiv'd, by heavenly wisdom fram'd» 
The fabric roae, and all his power proclaimed* 
Myriads of orbs with living splendour shone. 
And spoke their being from himself alone ;" 
Grand correspondents of their sun above, 
Their light of wisdom and their heat of tove* 
These attributes— creative Power Divine! 
Bade a new offspring, with new aplendour shine ; 
<Hve birth to worlds, whose countless lumbers Mj 
In endless order through the liquid iky : 
All systems-«>wheeling their eternal coarse 
Around tbeir s«n, their centre and their source , 
Whence each iu being did at first derive. 
Whence warmth and splendour, keep them still alhw 
Life begets life, and the successive chain 
Extends from GOD, through bts eternal reigar* 
Nor ends— but reaches to himself again. 
This earthly ball around its parent hurl'd. 
Teeming with life, became a peopled world. 
In one fair form, compos*d of purer mould, 
A casket, fit a heavenly gem to hold; 
A vital spark of life itself was placed, 
And with its Maker's hcav'nly image grac'd: 
A type— an image of life's fount above; 
Essence of wisdom— only source of lofe» 
Successive offsprings from this ^Murk deriv*4» 
Have in successive earthly fabrics liv'd ; 
Till caird by heav'n, releas'd from bonds of day, 
They 8oar^i to regions of eternal day i 
Consign'd to stations they were fonn'd to fill. 
The ministers of God's unchanging will. 
So when a humble crawling worm of earth 
Has gain'd existence "by ignoble birth; 
Lowly he creeps^ to sordid earth confin*d. 
Though naHtre prompts him to outfly the wind; 
Ten thousand ills and dangers on him wait. 
Till time completes his low procumbent state { 
Then, bursting from his prison, spurns &e earth, 
Exultmg in his glorious second birth; 
Extends bis pinions— flies o'er hill and glen. 
And mounts on air, beyond hi^ former ken. , 

* But why was man condemn^ to live below .' 
Coiild not the pow'r whence life and being flow 
Create him fit for heaven, and place him thete 
Beyond the reach of sin, and its desnair} 
Why give him tin^ to doom himself to pain, 
And make the work of his Creator vain I 
Or if plac'd here, why give him powV to shi ? 
Sure God's own will can keep his crestmnes dean ! 
0h I say, sweet pow'r, to whom these lays btloag ; 
Thou, who alone insphr'st my daring song, 
Wliate'er thou be, illume my darken'd mind ; 
Teach me the truth, that 1 may teach mankind. 
Le^ truth, and truth alone, my numbers graoe. 
The noblest substitute in poesy's place. 
If tones discordant from the Vocal lyre 
I draw, that glow not with poetic fire ; 
supply the want of harmony with truth . 
Ol tenfold vahie, to the suppliant youth. 

Mortals attend! from the harmonDm thronj;s, 
\yhich pierce the welkin whh their various spogs, 
Select a favVite, and his flight restrain 
From regions fraught with dangers, ills and pain. 
Secuie him from the cold and pitless storm, 
And in your mansion keep him safe and warm; 
A house of gold, and evVy dainty giVe, 
And ev*ry sweet on which he tov'd to tive; 
Eerooie from each Insklious fatal foe. 
And make him happy, (/be vnll orno. 
Think ye success attends a scheme like this. 
And that your bird enjtjjm nts unsought bliss ? 
Ho I— foolish thought! he must m anguish Uve« 
cW^straini destroys the happiness you give. 

Or seek on Afric's shores her sable son, 
Cbmpcird from death and cannibals to run ; 
Snatch him from dangers which his steps awaitt 
And change his native, for a foreign state- 
Force him to live in safety and in ease. 
And give him all but freedom that can please— * 
And IS he happy ? No: he still wMl sigh 
Jfor freedom, under Afric's bun-tnp sky ! 
This truth »« plain then, fix'd by nature's voice; 
T/fot state mlow h'lu^^ gain'd bj choice. 



Bliss is not bliss against our wishes giv'n; 
'Tie W/// alone can give delight to heav^. 
Were man created, and aUow'd a place 
E'er known to earth among the sons of grace ; 
He unconsulted, of the place untaught, 
Mi^t spurn the station which he never sought* 
In mercy then to perfect future bliss, 
His Maker jplac'd him in a world like this; 
Told him of joys which sainted spirits knowy 
And bade him shun the path which leads to woe;«.. 
But left him free to enter either state, 
And his o^n choice, confirm'd his future fate- 
Vet merey stopp'd not here, if vicious will 
Alhir'd him wrong, she stood inviting still ; 
Would take his hand, and lead him back again 
From the broad road which leads to endless pain ; 
Point to the path which will conduct to joy. 
Entreaties use, but no constraint emplc^. 
Man has free will— the blessed boon of heav'n— 
Constraint would then destroy what that has giv'o^ 
If man*s fir* wish be not with saints to live. 
E'en heaven to him would no enjoyment give. 
Then mortals ! ponder what we liave at stake ; 
How all important is the choice we make : 
And try to love fair wisdom's path of peace ; 
For if we try, that Icne wU stttl increase. 
But think not rashly, should we stiU give way» 
And let our wills hold o'er our judgments sway, 
That any time we can return from sin. 
And find the heavenly portal let us in ; 
The thought is vain ; the course through life we love 
Which choice has sanctioned and our acte ap|>rove; 
That path thus chosen, and in whictar we've stray'd. 
While mercy's calls have still been disobey'd. 
How can we hope to leave, or wish to move 
From what our soul and mind and body love: 
We've gone too lar-*our choke has been unwise, 
Our grov'liag hope of bliss aspiir'd not to the skiest 
Soon as our birth, eternity began, 
Death changes worlds, but cannot change the mait. 



roa TUB Rua^L visiter. 

HISTOHY OF ALVIRA. 

A TALE OF TRUTH. 
(Continued from p. 152- ) 
The parents of Theophtlus, with whose 
Ksdutary precepts and pious examples he had 
not been favoured, took their leave of this 
worid'Of sin^ sorrow and death, when he was 
about three years old, and are now resting 
in the bosom of Abraham. From good 
authorit}', I have been informed that his 
mother made it a constant practice, when- 
ever she pot her diildren to bed in the even- 
ing to bow down before her God, at the bed 
side, and offer up her prayers for them. Her 
five children, who lived to pAss the period of 
youth, and become members of the church, 
have not dishonoured their profession ; and 
one is now serving the cause of his God and 
Saviotir as a minister of the gospel— ^Blessed 
fhiits of the answer of prayer ! " Go thou 
and do likewise !'* — Blessed saints ! they 
are now, we believe, enjoying the favours of 
the Redeemer's purchase in their heavenly 
Father's house ! may their son imitate their 
virtues, and, at last, be joined to them and 
the fflorious company of ransomed souls ! 

The venerable Jacob, die father of the 
lovely Alvira, was the lawful guardian of 
young Theophilus, and dkl not neglect his 
charge. That pious man had watched over 
his ward, and directed the openings of his 
mind ; mid,^fA peculiar pleasure, saw him 
assume the fiffilre of a man, and imbibe the 
principles of honour and religion. He had 
taken care of, and improved liis little pa- 
ternal estate ; and, like a good christian^ 
did every thing that might promote the tem- 
poral and eternal interest of the youth.— <- 1 



Theophilus was not unmindful of the obli- 
gations he was under to his worthy guardi- 
an, and endeavoured to make some com- 
pensation, by paying a strict and dutiful at* 
tention to the commands and instructions of 
that pious man ^ and thus, in die simplicity 
•f his heart, he won the affections of Ahri- 
ra's father : not before he had thought of her 
as his future bride, but long before he da- 
red to open his mind to that charming g^. 
The sagacious father saw and was pleased 
with the attention which Theophilus paid 
to his darling child, at the earliest stage of 
their intimacy, and spoke of it to his neigh- 
bours, in terms of the highest approbation. 
** I have confidence,** said he, " in the up- 
rightness and integrity of the young man- 
he loves and fears his God, and it is not in 
him to deceive my daughter. They are yet 
too young to marr}' ; but, in a year or two 
more, if it. please God that we all lives© 
long, I shall do every thing I can to facili- 
tate their union." 

And indeed, if I cOuld Judge correctly of 
the heart of any one, I might say that The- 
ophilus was incapable of acting a double 
part, on ordinary occasions ; much more 
was he incapable of deceiving Alvira, whom 
he tenderly loved. His heart was sincere, 
and his professions of attachment were die 
natural dictates of his heart. His professions 
were not made in that verbose and windy 
manner, which you have sometimes seen 
portrayed on paper in poisonous novels: and 
they were, consequently, not so acceptable 
at first, as he hoped they would have been. 
Alvira, however, though she had condnually 
in her mind those lovesick speeches which 
she had learned in her favourite authors, 
and considered them as the most perfect 
models, was not void of discernment— she 
saw his worth— felt the force of his ardess 
manners and language, and found ihat htr 
heart was his before she was aware of it.*— 
She was about sixteen years of age, and con- 
sequendy was not possessed of all that pni- 
,dtnce which b the usual attendant on riper 
years. 

She had read, in her novels, of the long 
courtship of many whose wishes were, at last, 
crowned with a happy union, at the sacred 
altar — Of heroines, who had held their lovers 
at a distance— *kept their great admirers in 
8U^>ense a long time — and whose seeming 
coolness, though it was not the natural dic- 
tate of the judgment and aflfections, was yet 
kept up from year to year, and by the writer, 
painted as the first of female virtues- She 
^eirefore supposed, although she tenderly 
and ardendy loved young Theophilus, that it 
waft becoming the delicacy of her sex to act 
the part of a coquette— that by not allowing 
him to discover the warm attachment which 
she really had for him, she would increase 
his veneration for her, until he would almost 
die with despair : tliat when she had gained 
this point, she would avow her partiality for 
hini J and thus greatly enlarge the joy of him, 
who had her heart entire, by the disclosure 
of a fact she had long concealed, and the con- 
cealment of which she well knew was bis 
grieatest grief. To accomplish this, her fia- 
vourite object, sheliad many a contest with 



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ber henrt ; which woukt have been honest, if 
fancy and false maxims had not gotten the 
mastery of ber better judgment — She was 
sometimes on the point of saying amen, to 
bis protestations, and giving him the unspeak- 
able i^asure of knowing that her love to him 
was no le^s sincere and ardent than his was 
to her. But then her pride, and the foolish 
notions she had learned, would start up again 
and prevent her from making that frank and 
honest confession, which would have pre- 
vented him from withdrawing from ber, and 
kept her from the pain and anguish slie af- 
terwards endured* 

My fair daughters, observe, that the wri- 
ter of this little history is now advanced in 
life, beyond the meridian—has seen and felt 
much—has shared largely in both the joys 
and sorrows of this life, and is most intimate- 
ly acquainted with the facts here recorded ; 
and let his admonition have the full and de- 
sired influence on your heart and conduct ! I 
say then, tamper not with the feelings of the 
man vou< love; for there is a point beyond 
vhich he will not endure it ; but, as you val« 
ue your own peace, as soon as you are well 
satisfied he is honest in his addresses, remove 
the veil from your heart, and anxiety from 
his bosom. 

While Alvira was, as she supposed, acting 
a part which become htry as a polite young 
lady, and fashioning her own manners after 
those of the heroine, in her favorite romance^ 
Theophilus was tormented with unceasing 
anxiety about the measures he should adopt. 
He knew the good opinion which her father 
entertained of him, and was sometimes oh 
the point of making his complaint to that ve- 
nerable man, who, he well knew would not 
tolerate the conduct of his daughter— but 
then he scorned to receive, as a wife, the wo- 
man who was woi\ by parental authority--. 
He howksver, gendy remonstrated with her, 
on the subject of her behaviour towards him, 
and plainly g^ve her to understand what must 
be the consequence, if she persisted in treat- 
ing him as she had done for some time past. 
She seemed, for the moment, to be impressed 
with the impropriety of her conduct aiul pro- 
mised to retorm : yet on the next interview, 
she unhappily acted over again her borrowed 
character. It was some months before Theo- 
philus could bring hiniself to consider her 
treatment of him as an affront ; but now that 
he viewed her conduct in this light, he made 
u^ his mind to break off aH intimacy with 
her. This was a resolution which he ought 
to have formed before this period ; but his 
attachment to Alvira was sincere and ardent; 
and, like many other inexperienced youth,he , 
had supposed it was impossible for him ever 
to forget entirely the object of his first love; 
and nothing but the deep wounds he had felt, 
from the seeming coolness and oncivility of 
Alvira, would ever have brought him to 
adopt the measure he had now resolved upon. 
In canying this measure into effect, he had 
many sleepless nights and wearisome days*-* 
his light and unrdreshing sleep was disturb- 
ed with fantastic dreams — He, in his fancied 
visions, sometimes thought he Iiad conquer- 
ed t^e, apposition of Alvim, that she bad 
fhmkly confessed what was rcaBy in her 



heart ; that she loved him as she did her own 
soul, and would ever love him : and then, irt 
the transports of his joy, he would awake and 
learn, to his grief, that it was but a dream ! 
Again, he would feel as though he had com- 
pletely accomplished the object of his late 
resolution, so that he had no particidar at- 
tachment to or regai-d for Alviia^ and would 
then awake and behold, to his sorrow, that 
this also was b\it a dream ! At length, b}' 
continued pcrbcveranre,he entirely overcame 
his former attachment to her, and was able to 
call it by its proper name — a boyish passion, 
unworthy of his fuuire serious thoughts. He 
did not, as too many }'oung people are apt to 
do, run into the opposite extreme, and hate 
her^ who so lately was the object of his love: 
from this he was kept by the principles of 
that holy religion, which inculcates love to 
all men — which makes it oar duty to love, 
not only our friends and those who wish us 
well, but also our enemies ; and which does, 
moreover, in its operation on the human 
heart, give that temper which it demands. 
fTo be continued. J 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

The western verge of the horizon yet 
faintly glowed with the departing rays of the 
setting sun, and the revolving hours were 
about to usher in thetwilight of the evening. 
All was silent and serene, and the azure 
arch of heaven unspotted with a single cloud. 
I was proceeding pensively along, enjoying 
the beauties of the evening and of the scenerv 
around me, when on entering the little vil- 
lage of — , my attention was arrested by 
the appearance of an old man, who with 
slow and weary steps was endeavouring to 
reach the village ere darkness should over- 
take him. In addition to the infirmities of 
age and a feeble frame, he was labouring 
under the weight of a large bundle suspend- 
ed on his back, and had in his l^md an oaken 
staff, which, with the scanty pittance his 
knapsack afforded, were his cnief sustenance 
and support through the fatigues of the day. 
As I happened to be in one of my contem- 
plative moods, and am peculiarly fond of 
drawing moral instruction from the objects 
around me, while viewing the aged traveller 
with an eye of pity and considering his situ- 
ation ; surely, thought I, it presents a strik- 
ing similitude of the Christianas journey 
through life. When passing along in this 
state of probation, the staff* of resigrtation is 
his beat support under evtry affliction ; while 
the blessed promises of the gospel which 
are attached to a life of virtue and of piety, 
constitute his refreshment as " a brook by 
the way ;** till arrived at his desired resting 
place, his staff* ^nd his burdens are laid down 
together. Z. Y. 

FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

UINT6 FOR THE IMPROVEMENT OF 

STOVES. 

T1>e propriety of adoptni|^ some mode for 
diminiming thq expense of warming our 
Houses, is notcoafinedto-lhepoor. Fuel, ( 



T^-'^ 



as ii is at present managed, amoums in liic 
course of ayear toasum tliat musilHi imi)f T- 
tant eyen to those who are in easy circu di- 
stances ; and perhaps in no arircic of con- 
sumption is there a more unnecessary waste; 
which is the more to be regretted, as, fron\ 
obvious causes, the price of fuel must contin- 
ue to increase. Various improvements, in- 
deed, in the construaion of stoVus and fin - 
places have abeady been made ; but many of 
them lie hid in books, which, f^om the igno- 
rance or precipitancy of founders and builds 
ers seem to be overio6ked ; and when once 
a house is finished, it is alwajts difficalt, ar.ii 
often impracticable to make any mi^tcriwil ?1- 
teradon m the fireplaces. With respect to 
stoves, however, the case is differoit, and in 
the construction of these there ii yet miuli 
room for the excrcis'i of ingenuity. This 
certainly merits the attention of the public, 
and especially of those associated for the h • 
nevoleat purpose of relieving the wants of the 
poor. II bv the trifling exjjense of a dollar, 
a poor family may be enabled to enjoy the 
comfortof a warm apartment, with half, per- 
haps one third, the usual consumption of fu- 
el, common cliarity can hardly, be applied in 
any way more beneficially than in this. The 
Editor has received an easy project for im- 

E roving the six-pLHte siove now in use, which 
e intends to explain by a plate now prepar- 
ing ; and it is not doubted but that the ten- 
plate and other stoves may, at a small ex- 
pense, be improved upon the same principle. 
Stoves on this principle are common in the 
northern parts of Europe, where, though fuel 
is «ven more scarce than with us, the houses 
of the inhabitants are generally kept warm. 
Thchr stoves are high, and the smoke being 
made dternately to ascend and descend^ is 
thereby detained, and in part ccmsumed ; 
while the heat, that subtile fluid to which ;ill 
bodies are pervious, escapes, laterally and 
upwards, through the metallic plates ; for it 
is a known property of heat, at least, when 
incorporated with a fluid, as air or water, to 
cleave to the highest part of its containing 
apartment: Hence, evidently^ the disadvan- 
tage of an upright flue. The foHowmg ex- 
periment, made on a stove improved accord - 
mg to the foregoing plan, with the addition 
of an outside pipe about three fe^et long, ex- 
tending from an eljjow immediately on the 
top of the stove to about 18 inches below it, 
may serve to show with what difficulty heat 
ift.made to accompany smoke in its progress 
dovmward. In this stove was kindled a fire 
of dry wood : in a few minutes some water 
dropped on the top plate instantly boiled ; 
near twenty minutes elapsed before the low- 
er elbow attained-Bufficient healto exhibit the 
same phenomenon. Now it is well known 
that in stoves of the comn) on construction 
with upright pipes, the pifie is the first to be* 
come insupportable to the touch^-this I con- 
ceivc to be sufficient evidence of the efficacy 
of the improvement. It: is the heat of the fire 
we want and therefore' no more of it should * 
be sufiBered to escape th^nis sufficient to car- 
ry off the smoke. A fireplace or stove to 
answer this cnd-i-that is, to pass the smoke 
with as little heat Vk% possible, is the object ta 
be aimed at. 



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162 



XHE RURAL VISITER. 



FO» Tint ««RAT- VISITER. 

BEAUTY AWAKENING. 

I saw a sun beam, brilliant, play 

Upon the niornrng's brow : 
The dew-drops dsnc'd on ev'ry spray. 
And on the weadows, green and gay, 

Mild flow'rs and breezes Wow : 
Bright rose the sun, and shed the day, 

Upon the worid below. 

An early row-bud, blooming grew, 

jki ApnTi shadowy bow'rs ; 
Its sev'ring breast wasgem*d with dew, 
And on its lips of ruby hue. 

Soft sunk the morning show'rs : 
A gale of early «immcr Wew, 

And UooraM, the queen of flowVs. 

^fier than morning's early dyes. 

Or blowing roses ptay. 
The awak'ningunilesy that languid nst*-^ 
Soft'ning the blue of Beauty's ^yes, 

When morning dreams decay: 
Bright on her face a !>un-beam Btei, 

And Delia haiU the day. 



H, W 



FOn THE RURAL TISITBR. 



Our rtadert %j>Ul not hetitate to adtnawledge the originality 
of tbe/oliowing. £ d. 

Bear on your wings, and in your notes, his praise ! 
Paradise I^ott, ooo^ 5. 

Well is't a truth ? then may it be confest* 

That chanticleer at his inclement rest. 

Mora fre^oem crows as Christmas day drtws nigh ,— 

And If *tis Uiust ye learned tell us why-— > 

Ye sons of science who profess to lay. 

What's the vialactea, what's the milky way, 

Ye who can tell if Venus in her race 

Wilt place a black patch on Sol's fiVy face. 

Or whether Luna, as she.travels on, 

Will place a dark ball twixt us and the 00x14 

With azimuth, or amplitude define 

The needle's wand*ring from th* pron# line. 

Yc curioua tell, w hbst microtcopic innNl, -^ 

In Nature's nninute works great wonders findft^ 

Who in her curious workmanship delight^ 

That lie much hid from unassisted sight. 

Ye juturalists, and analyzers ye 

Tell what's the cause that thus the effect should be ? 

Why don't mild spring so o'er his senses flow. 

That he at midnight then would stoutly crow ? 

Why choose the sultry summer months, when he 

Makes treble crowing on the roosting tree } 

Or if his fertile bride had hatch'd a show 

Of chickens— then why not <|uite frequent crouf ? 

Or were he still, would stones instructive proire 

And teach wise niankthd whom they ought to lovef 

If he were silent, would the stone&then cry . * 

Eemember mankind who for you did. die I 

If deists say that Peter's cock ne'er crow'd, 

I^m modem cocks has no instruction flow'd i 

Messiah's corner thou Jew that it denies 

Gb to the cock, and can't you then be wise } 

L.E. 



FOR TBB RORAL VISITBR. 

ON LOVE. 

*' Love is a curimis thing you know, 
It makes one feel all over so." 

Ah Lore ! mysterious, torturing pow'r 
That turM nien*i brairu in half am hooTp 

Of thee, what shall I say } 
I tell thee what, 1 hate thy aight, 
TlioQ plague of morning, noon, and night, 

I'll drive thee far away. 

AdTance not fiend, hut keep thy distance. 
Without thee I can gain ssbsistence. 

Let others live en kissing — 
I knew thee wdl when yet a boy. 
But oow« more pleasure I enjoy. 

Because that thou act missing. 

Thou vtf^y looking beast of pieex 
That bears all peace of mind away , 
Scarce leaving skin and bone t 



A mighty host too thou hast slain. 
More victinrrs bleeding on the plain 
Than any gen'ral known. 

A graceful form, a pretty face, 
In many a heart will leave a space 

For thee to place thy throne? 
There thou may'st reign with tpant sway, 
And shoot forth many a glittering ray, 

And bring forth many a groan. 

Within my garret, there I find 
A sweet serenity of mind, 

Known only to a few; 
I write, I read, 1 smoke, I drink, 
I sit, and lounge, and oft too think, 

But not indeed of Yotr. ALFRED. 



To the Editor of the Rural Viiiter. 

I apply to you as master of the ceremonies fbr per- 
mission to iiitroduce to your visiting circle, the Rhap- 
sodist. Should you be so polite as to allow him a seat 
in the comer, I undertake for him thatiie will be a very 
civil guest, if you will only excuse him for indulging 
himsdf in occasional reveries. 



RHAPSODIST. 

No- 1. 

The Rhapsbdist near the expiration of his 
apprenticeship which he served with fidelity 
and reputation, as he sat one day on his 
wort-bench^ fell into a profound revery, and 
said thus to himself, ^^ O freedom ! how 
sweet art thou to * the mind of desultory 
man ;'* and if so sweet in prospect to me 
whose master is afr'tendy a companion^ afath' 
er^ how transporting must be Uiy approaches 
to the thousands that groan in bondage ; but 
alas! with these even hope is extinct; and 
with hope, dies all energy.-— Now is the cri- 
tical time. The choice of my way of life is 
before me»— How shall I determine* Shall 
I marry, and pursue the beaten track of life ? 
That would be casting a die for this X\k,^per- 
hats for the next. My heart is yet unenthrai- 
led: Vwill think of this again. Or shall I con- 
clude upon a life of celibacy. This at least pro- 
mises more freedom ; with the addition which 
a few years of labour might make to my little 
patrimony, I might, with the rigid economy 
which I intend to practise, pass the remain^ 
der of my days in leisure. Yet I would not 
be idle ; I would lay up a store of useful 
knowledge, with which, and the surplus of my 
income, f would endeavour to set on foot, and 
to promote institutions which might be use- 
ful to the community. The time wliich I 
could properly spare from these pursuits, 
should be appropriated to social intercourse 
with my relations ; I would be a kind of in- 
terlocutor between the various branches of 
ray family, to keep bright the sacred cliain of 
consanguinity', which, in this money-getting 
age, and this widely extended territory, 
(where many causes concur to scatter con- 
nexions) is but too apt to become tarnished 
with the rust of indifference. Through the 
whole course of my life, I would be a decided 
enemy to those refinements in luxury, that 
parade ofexpenaeyVfhhth has had such a rapid 
p;rowth in this imitative country, and which 
is depriving so many of my deluded fellow- 
citizens of the more substantkU enjoyments 
of life. Econoniy ! thou friend to ease, to 
health, to leisure ; thou enemy to broken for- 
tune, and broken slumbers, howe'er despised 
aadtnunpledMid spit upon by laced lordling^ 
and liveried footmen, thou art the friend of 



dignity and freedom,— Yes, diou * * ^ In- 
dustry is the pioneer, simplicity the tobe — 
and thou most excellent Economy ! thou ai-t 
tlie life-giiardoi Independence."—— 

Here he was roused from his rhapsody by 
the entrance of a customer. What inducecl 
him after these sublime meditations, to en- 
gage in business, and follow the footsteps of 
die *♦ money-getting train,** does not appear. 
It seems from the following lines, that he di4 
not find in this new stage of life, the ssme 
degree of freedom and enjm'ment diat he ex- 
perienced in his a]^renticeship. Had he suo- 
ceededin hisma^rim0nta/prospects;he might 
probably have found the cares of life more 
supportable , and have been less ovtof hu- 
mour with the world. 

Oh) knew I when beneath a master's care 
( Myself of care devoidj what now I know. 
And deariy know, atf by experience bought. 
How sweet was Iveedom— i had never sold 
My birthright to the inestimable good^— 
(Nor yet for gold nor pottage did I sell.—) 
Sweetly I slumbered and at early mom 
Arose with strength renewed to cheerful t^!» 
My task appointed, without care of mine 
Or anxious thought of what was next to do. 
** How happy, as behind the sturd^r ox, 
I held the plow ; and eyed the crunibling sod 
Upturned— To hear around the mingled hulto 
Of beast or bird, or stream or bus^ miU.^'p-- 
Oh! who can tell but those whojeel the joys« 
The pleasures of a tutored plowboy*s life f 
Health in hia fram^, and vigour in his mind 
Unvex*d by care— and yet my resdess fareart 
StiU clothed the future in a livelier hue 
When I might call a piece of land my own ; 
Where taste to adorn, and judgment to improve 
Rude nature^ might have Toom for exercise— 
Sdre blameless this— and blameless to the wiali 
That once with transport warmed my glowhaghftM; 
The thrilling thought that I might have a v>i/i : 
That Whder term was once as ** Sister** dcav^ 
FerhapB more dear»-4mt now to me no mcve 
Kindles a transport ia my sadden'd heart— 
I feel coman^ne ties more closely bind 
As love relioces—- Through the mists obscui^ 
Which cover memory's hallow'd vale, I see 
Some taper's light—And fed my sonl impelkd 
To gloems congenial, where the daring stq> 
Of worldly care intrudes not — But ah 1 how, 
How^y I so many cords enthral me here^ 
'TIS easy to be sure to walk away» 
Take a French leant of property imd care 
And hide me from the din of vulgar tongnts* 
That ape refinement till good nature fails 
And cemmon sense deacries their vanity- 
Yet while I fly the thorn, I fly th< roiCf 
And roses there are many which have jtit 
EUcap'd the rage of time, Corruption^% ravage— 
Among the number i*ve a brotncF yet 
Whom to forsake were cruel. Me, he lovet— 
I am his only brothcr.-^-He and I 
The last of all my father's family— 
To me alone, and I alone to him 
May tdl of scenes as mutusUly kndwn. 
Domestic and consanguine, while yet ease 
And afluence nursed us on their downy hips. 
A father's care ! A mother's tenderness ! 
A sitter's thousand little kindnesses ! 
But these my heart, in retrospection vam 
Has traversed oft.— ^Itk/ the$e art common tbtngtt^ 
To lose a parent, sister, brother, friend, 
'S the lot of thousands— Nature's LuxuryU law-* 
'TIS time the tnind i\\o\\Afamard urge her powers 
And leant pott tbinge behind^t is not meet» 
It doth not ooindde with lieaven's design 
Who vfilU Vft thould be mefut to he blatt 
That we should lay our talents in the grave 
That hides our kiiidred — and tn idle sorrow 
Look backward still, as though we had no hofit^^ 
As though the power tblit maJe us, had no end 
In our creation. As if Love divine 
Had nothing cheering in it. Hence away t 
Ye enervating i«troi^)ects away ! 
Ti«e ciHs tota cti m Vis the «* sphere i^mtm»** 
Aamtm Short, MarylmL 



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THE RURAL VISFfEi?. 



163 



SELECTED FROM THE WEEKLY MONITOR. 

Hints for the formation and improvemcfit of 
the female character. 

(Continued from p. 156.) 

In the last number of the Monitor, I pro- 
mised to conclude, in a succeeding paper, 
some rules and observational which I had 
arranged for the perusal of the young ladies 
of this community. I this day perform my 
promise ; not over anxious to gain, but de- 
sirous to deserve, their approbation; and wil- 
ling to hope, that the follies of a week have 
act drawn their attention altogether to other 
subjects. 

Nejct to the performance of the great du- 
ties of religion, let me eamesdy entreat you, 
my fair readers, to acquire the government of 
your temper. Many there are, who leave 
their humility in the closet, and their devo- 
tion at church ; who are constant in die ob- 
servance of all the Bolemn ordinances of 
Christianity, but forget that golden rule of 
good will to iJI, without which all prayers^ 
and fonns, and ceremonies, are but a^ a 
sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbol. 
They would not neglect on Sunday, to hear 
the word of God ; but they suffer dieir tem- 
pers, all the rest of the week, to run counter 
to the mild and peaceful spirit of the gospel : 
and sometimes it is to be feared they return 
from the sacred altar of the Lord, to exercise 
a harsh dominion over their unfortunate de- 
pendants at home. But you, my friends, be 
■ot like diem* Have you. servants, whose 
comfort is in a great measure in your power? 
Remenlber that you, also, have a master in 
Heaven. To your superiors in age and expe- 
rience, be resnectful and attentive ; be <^n 
and unaffected, cheerful, and obli^ng to your 
equals; be just and sincere, disinterested 
and courteous to dl. Nothing can justify a 
single act of caprice^ sullenness, or ill hu- 
mour. If you would be happy yourself, strive 
to make aU about you happy. It is the Jaw 
of your nature, and the equity of Heaven : 
You cavnot destroy the peace of others, with- 
out woux^ding your own. 

Lay your imag^tion under the severest 
Jisci^ine.. Young people, especkdly of your 
sex, are wUHng^ victims of the illusions of 
fancy. Tou ente>^ upon life, as an enchanted 
country. The world, in your eyes, has no ca- 
price; fortune, no vidssitude ; friendship is 
without insincerity; attachment, without 
bitterness ; and marriage is all happiness, 
without alloy. But trust not these smiling 
delusions. Experience will not realize them. 
Look through them with the eve of reason, 
and see things as they are. llie world at 
best, is but a checkered scene of good'and 
eviL Suchvainexpectationswilldestroyyour 
relish for rational pleasure, and leave you 
neither resolution to perform the duties of 
your station, nor fortitude to encounter the 
unavoidable calamities of life. 

In the choice of books, consult the wisdom 
snd experience of some tried friend, on whose 
judgment you can safely rely. This is a mat- 
ter of great importance. The enemies of vir- 
tue ai^e ever on the alert. In the tak of liuicy, 
in Ae pocitfs song, in the U^t pages of a nov- 
el, in the colnmaaof a ac wspa{ier, tad^ shaiae 



on the unworthy prostitution of talents ! even 
in the sober and dignified records of historj^, 
you will find the subtle poison of irrcligion. 
Every snare is spread, and every disguise 
assumed, to complete the ruin of innocence. 
Beware, then, how you read : and guard your 
little library from the intrusion of the dan- 
gerous and seductive volume,, w'-d) as much 
care, as you would guard your Jieart fi^om im- 
pure and wicked thouglits. 

Without delicacy, no woman can be lovely. 
It is the sacred fence of female honour, and 
is never broken down without fatal conse- 
quences. Delicacy extends to every thing 
where woman is concerned. Conversation, 
books, pictures, attitude, gesture, should all 
be under its salutary restramts. If a girl ever 
loses it, farewell! along farewell, to all her 
greatness !— ** If this salthave lost its savour, 
wherewith shall it be seasoned ?" How unfit 
are many parents to educate a daughter!— 
What injudicious pleasantries do they some- 
times use, even in their presence! — A young 
girl should hear, she should see, nothmg that 
can call forth a blush, or even stain the purity 
of her mind. 

There is a vice with which your sex is ge- 
nerally reproached. The darts of slander, I 
grieve to say it, are thrown, too often, by the 
hand of a female. But I trust, your example 
will repel the charge, and prove, once more, 
that indiscriminate censure is never just.— 
Where you can praise justly, praise freely : 
where you find nothing to approve, be silent. 
The female voice is never less pleasing, than 
when raised to enumerate the foults of oth- 
ers ; never more melodious, than when ex- 
erted to vindicate the honour, or palliate the 
failings, of an absent friend. 

AlUiough every stage of your life is full of 
danger, and exposed to difficulties peculiar to 
itself, there is one periodof time most peri- 
lous indeed. — ^ If I was called upon,** says 
a charming author, " to write the history of 
" a woman^s trials and sorrows, I would date 
** it jfirom the moment, when nature has pro- 
^^ nounced her marriageable. If I had a girl 
** of my own at this critical age, I should be 
*^ foil of the keenest apprehensions for her 
** safety ; and, like the great poet, when the 
" tempter was bent on seducing our first pa- 
*'* rents from dieir innocence and happiness, 
^^ I would invoke the assistance of some guar- 
^^ dian angel, to conduct her through the slip- 
" pery and dangerous path.*** 

Marriage is, doiibdess, the most natural, 
innocent and useful state, if you can form it 
to any tolerable advantage. — It bids fairest 
for that Uttle pordon of happiness, which this 

* The Rev. Mr. Bennet. His excellent letters to s 
young lady, which I have already had occasion to re- 
oommend, and of which it is impossible to speak in 
terms of too high apprtmation, furnished most of the 
reflections^ whidi occur in this and the preceding num- 
ber* I was anxious to imprest on the minds of my 
fair readers some of the most important precepts, chat 
have been delivered for the regtilation of their con- 
duct ; and hb invaluable production afforded all that I 
could desire. I have ventured to intersperse some 
thoughu of my own, and to connect some passages 
which were scattered through different parts of the 
work. But where I found the sentiments which 1 
wished to cenvey, eaprested itt his own eloquent lan- 
guage, 1 adopted them without alteration;as chat which 
has flawed from his masterly pen could mt bii^Qi^ 



life admits, and is in some degree, a duty, 
which you owe to the world • 

Yet» "they that enter into the state of mar- 
riage,'* says an old English writer, " cast a 
die of the greatest contingency, and yet of 
the greatest interest in the world, next to the 
last thiT)w for eternity. Life or de^ath, felicity 
or a lasting sorrow, are in the power of mar- 
riage. Yet a woman ventures most, for she 
has no sanctuary to retire to from a cruel 
husband. No ! she must weepat home, and 
brood over her own sorrows. She may, in- 
deed, complain to God ; but in the causes of 
unkindneas, she has no other appeal.'^ Now 
therefore, summon to your aid, all that read- 
ing, observation, the advice of parents and 
friends, andloog^ived eiq^erience have pow- 
er to bestow. Pause before you tie that gor- 
dian knot, which death . alone can imloose ; 
and before you decide on a measure of such 
incalculable importance, be sure that reason 
approves your conduct, and forget not to im- 
jMore die direction of Heaven. 

If a person come to a serious declaration 
in your favour, affect no prudish airs of re- 
serve. If you really feel an affection for him, 
and can indulge it with prudence, do not 
scruple to acknowledge it, or to treat him, 
with the greatest openness and candour.— 
This will engage forever the esteem of every 
libtu^ and honest man. If )'Ou cannot receive 
him as a lover, you will not fail to retain him 
as a friend. Suffer not your imagination t« 
be dazzled with mere splendour. The glit- 
ter of wealth and equipage has induced many 
a poor pii to sacrifice her peace at the shrine 
of vanity : and her nightly pillow steeped in 
tears and bitter regret, has soon uAd her, that 
** better is a dinner of herbs where love is, 
than a Stalled ox and hatred therewith.'' — 
Never suffer yourself to think, with partiali- 
ty, of a person who is not guided by religious 
principles. A good man alone is capable of 
true /ittachment, fidelity, and affection. Oth- 
ers may feel a fugitive passion ; but on this, 
alas, you can place no dependence. Nothing 
but religion is permanent, always consistent 
and always the same. Look for a person 
of a domestic cast. Of what consequence to 
you arc the good qualities of your husband, 
if he be seldom at home ? It has been often 
asserted, that a reformed rake makes the best 
husband* It may be so ; but I would not 
have you to risk your peace on so dmigerous 
an e^riment. — ^Althoughnotabsoluteiy nc- 
cessaiy, yet it is highly desirable, that the 
man with whom you are to spend your days, 
should be a man of sentiment and taste. — 
These qualities will variegate -everj' hour with 
fresh pleasure, every scene with animated re- 
marks, and cverv incident with the liveliest 
interest. Fortime surely should be consid- 
ered as proportioned to your habits, educa- 
tion, and staidon in life. But if you find the 
other requisites, be iis moderate as possible 
in thia. A morsel thus sweetened will be 
pleasant to the taste. In a cottagf; so enliven- 
ed, joy will spring. The Almighty will look 
down from Heaven with approbation, and 
crown the hi^py pair with the choicest of his 
Uessings ! 

Andnow, my young friends! I commit 
yon to the care of mm Y who U the tender fatfa- 



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164 



THE RURAL VISITEB. 



tr of all his creatures. The world i» before 
you, full of difficulty and danger; Pleasure 
will spread her thousand snares to deceive 
ycm ; your passions will solicit unbounded 
gratification, and even your own heart will 
prompt you to deceive yourselves ; but you 
are in the hands of the greatest and best of 
beings ; and, whatever your lot may be, rich- 
es or poverty, health or sickness, the state of 
marriage or a single life, you will be still be- 
neath his watchful eye* ' Fear not. Be vir- 
tuous, be cheerful, be contented. See that 
your heart be right, strive to do your duty, 
and leave die rest to Him. 



FOR THE RtJRAL VISITER. 

*♦ By virtuous precepts to control 
The thirsty cravings of the soul. 
Is over wider realms to reign 
tTncnvy'd monarch, than if Spain 
Thou cottld*st to distant Lybia join. 
And both the Cartilages were (bine." 

1 was pleased with the invitation given 
some weeks ago to experiencea farmers to 
publish the result of their improvements in 
agriculture, &c. but I should have been bet- 
ter pleased with an invitation to experienced 
itiomlists and virtuous philosophers, to pub- 
lish in the Rural Visiter instructions respect- 
ing the .most important concerns in this life 
— to give seasonable admonitions to the ri- 
sing youth — to warn them of the dangerous 
consequences of indulging thieir natural pro- 
pensities — ^to set forth the highly important 
and incalculable! benefits that flow from an 
attentive adherence to th^ precepts of mo- 
rality and religion. I think there are toO 
many pages of the Rural Visiter devoted to 
mere amusement j we wer6 not placed in this 
world, only to amuse and divert ourselves^ 
and like the Leviathan in the Sea, to take our 
fill of pleasure. We are to endeavour to re- 
train and regulate our depraved appetites 
and passions. I am sensible that useful pre- 
cepts, which have a tendency to this pinrpose, 
win be as entertaining and incomparably 
more beneficial, than pieces only designed to 
amuse and divert — the studious and contem- 
plative, who have spent much of their time 
in selecting the precious treasures of ancient 
sages, if tlicy were not at the pains of fumisli- 
ing any thing entirely new, but only give us 
judicious selections, it would undoubtedly 
have a more beneficial tendency, than some 
pieces I could mention in our foresaid pa- 
pei\ I shall, at present, only give the foUow- 



ma: 



sample 



'' It is unworthy a Christian Philosopher to 
let any thing here below, stand m the least 
competition with his duty. In vain is reason 
fortified by faith, if it produceth no greater 
effects than what reason wrought in mere 
man ; I contemn, (in dependence on the sup- 
port of heaven I speak it) I contemn all which 
the generality of mankind call great oi* glori- 
ous ; I will no longer thmk or act like a mor- 
t:\l, but consider myself as a being that com- 
menced at my birth and is to endure to all 
etgmity j the accident of death will not end 
but improve ray being ; I will think of m} - 
sdf and provide for myself as an innnortal ; 
and I will do nothing now which I do not 



believe I aliall approVe a thousand years 
hence.'^ MONITOR. 



F0A7HB RUBAL VISITSR. 

Mn. Editor, 

Througli the medium of your paper may 
I be allowed to propose a question to some of 
your correspondents among the farmers. — 
flave you ever perceived any difference in 
the weight of gram if the ground had Been 
manured with different kinds of manure f I 
am induced to offer this question because I 
remember Mr. Pennant, m his tour through 
Scothuid, mentions that the barley produced 
from land when manured by the sea-tang, is 
much lighter than from other manure. I 
would wish an answer from a man whose 
observation may have afforded opportunities 
of judging, A FARMER. 



ON HEMP. 

Expense, culture, and profit of half an acre of hemp, 
communicated to the Blockley and Merrion society 
for pronK>ting agriculture and rural economy. By 
John Cunren, vice president. 

In the automn of l785, vihen I removed to Walnut 
hill, that pan of the plantation, on which I have since 
raised my hemp, had been planted with Indian com. 
The com being bad, it was sowed with buckwheat. 
The buckwheat was so miserable, it was not worth 
cradlii g; and the hogs were turned in to consume it 
In the spring of 1786, 1 limed it, at the rate of sixty- 
six bushels per acre, upon a part of which I had a fevT 
hills of pumpkins, some plants of tobacco, and a few 
rows of cabbage. The cabbage were dunged in the 
rows, and were tolerably good; the other things of 
little value. In the spring of 1787, I spread over it 
five cart loads of dung, gave it two ploughings, two 
harrowings, planted it with pumpkin seed, and plough- 
ed and harrowed it once after planting. The crop was 
good. After the pumpkins were taken in, I immedi- 
ately {toughed it about ten inches deep, spread eight 
loads of dung upon it in the spring, ploughed h 1% 
harrowed it onceover; and it was then m such excel- 
lent order, I thought another ploughing unnecessary ; 
I therefore so%ed it with two bushels of seed, which 
was on the 6th of May, 1788. 

Expense. 

To two ploughings, £.0 6 

Eight loads of dung, --- 1 

Harrowing and sowing, •-• •O 2 

Two bushels of seed, ...S 5 

Pullkig the male hemp, --, ----0 15 

Ditto female, spreading, &c -015 

Breaking, - . - • ^ 1 10 

Totid expense, £.6 13 

Produce from the break. 

By 3601b. at 6d. per pound, ^.9 

Eight bushels seed 22s. 6d. - - - - 9 

^.18 
Expense deducted 6 13 

Cl*ar profit, £.\\ 7 

ix is coinmoa to pull both the nKde and female hemp 
at the same tinie, and leave only a few stalks of the 
female hemp on the edge of the pateh, to renr>aivi for 
seed. This is not the most profitable mwhod i for you 
may observe th« seed in this experiment is equal in 
value to the hemp. I leave all the seed hemp stand- 
ing until the seed is ripe*, pull, water» and break it, as 
1 d6 the other; and it cofrrmands the same price. The 
clear profit is, jf 11 7 0, which is per acre £. 22 14 0, 
a profit sufficient to induce us to ctdnvate it with spirit, 
especially as a crop of wheat may follow it with the 
greatest prospect of success. This experiment, which 
1 have fairly related, may help as to deckle an impor- 
tant question, which ha»been fft^toemly agitated here, 
viz. 



?2>e best and cbeapnt method efimpnnmg mam em kmL 
This piece of ground was worn out. By what ineaiu 
was it restored ? The answer may be comprised in a 
few words, and in my opinion is an answer to both. 
By manure and a succession of crops, which are not 
only profitable in themselves, but compel good cultore, 
with all its advantageous conseijuences* 
By order of the society, 

RICHARD TUNIS, Seeromy. 



EPHEMERIS. 


February |r» »t j(Sun rises. Sun seis Jh. W ater 


4th week. 


^' ""J H. M. 


1 H, M. 1 Burling. 


1st day. 


24 1 6 33 


5 27 


4 11 


• 2d day. 


25 6 32 


5 28 


5 5 


3d day, 


26 6 SO 


5 30 


5 58 


4th day, :2r 6 29 


5 31 


6 30 


5th day, 28 6 27 5 33 
6th day, 1 6 26 5 34 


7 42 


%^ 


7th day, 2 6 2S 5 35 9 f 2 



TO CORRESPONDENTS, 

We have concluded to admit one of X. JB*# essaf s ; 

thinking it a pity that 00 much orignaiity shouki be lost 
to the publk:— the others we suppress ; as we fear that 
Not one " giggling miss would cry—* dmne*^ 
But e%'cry •* crabbed critic—* fie upon it."* 
The author of the ** History of Alvin," will please 
to observe, that we have not sufficient copy for another 
number. 

Eupbemia's request shall be attended to*-wc hope 
more of her sex will be induced to follow her eacample 
—'tis their turn to retaliate upon the gentlemen. 

Snub deserves to be snubbed for wnting daring a 
spell of intoxicatLOit-»we,<are however happy to find 
that his conscience, yet true to its office, whispers that 
^ Serious Thoughts on Spirituons Licpion'* are ad- 
dressed to such as himself. 



INTELLIGENCE. 

DOMESTIC. 

There having been no arrivals since our Ust^ of 
course we are not furnished with any Ibi^^ intelU- 
gence to present to our readers. 

The question relative to the Bank charter is not y«t 
decided. Every member of the senate of the United 
Slates is present at his post a circumstance which has 
rarely occurred. 

By news from West Florida it appears that m corps 
of Spanish and English soldiers had arrived at Bensa- 
cola,and were marching to reenforce Gov. Folch. That 
in consequence of this reenforcement. Gov. Fokh fasd 
refused to give ground, and that Col. Gushing with the 
United States forces were retreating ; and u was thought 
that before this time thfey were out of West f lorida. 
The militia of the Mississippi Territory, it was said* 
were mustering to reenforce Col. Gushing. It was 
thought the United States must abandon the territoiy 
or figh*. 

We have accounts from New-Odeans tfiat a dangef- 
otls insurrection of the negroes had taken plice in the 
upper part of the Mississippi Territory, in what is cal- 
led the German Coast. The blacks assembled m cob- 
aidctable force and ravaged several plantation*, mur- 
dering and destroying. At length t^>ey were defeated 
by a body of planters headed by the venerable and 
brave Mr. Andry , sen. whose son had been killed. The 
militia and regular troops were ordered out — the alarm 
had spread to New-Orleans, and the m'ditia of the ci^ 
ordered under arms \ but 'he insurrection appeared t» 
be quelled and the blacks dispersed. 

The New-Orieans papers state that three battles had 
taken place in Mexico, between the government or 
Eaifopean troops, and the natives, who were acriving 
for independence. The last battle took place on the 
29th October, and terminatfd to the advantage of the 
European Spaniards^the natives being defeated with 
great loss and totaUy disprtsed. 



'MAUHIED at Friends' Meeting. Haddonfiehl, on 
the 14th inst Mr. Allen Moore of Eveshamt to the 
amiable Miss Ann Ka) , daughter of Mn« Eliaabetk 
Kay ot Waterford. 

DIED on Tiseadif lilstrJameaDeki^of thitdt^ 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 

** 'Homo sum; /iuniani nihil a me arzenum ptitoJ*^ — ikfen wid/iis cares to me d vian^ are dear. 



vol,. I. 



BURLING1X)N, THIRD.MONTH (MARCH) 4th, 1811. 



No, 32* 



THE RECORDER- 
No. XXXI. 

Ipsa quid«m virtus pretium sibi, solaque lai^ 
Fortunx. tecura nitet, nee fascibos ullis 
Erigitur, plansuve petit cisrescere vulgi : 
Nil opis externae cuplens, nil indiga laudis, 
Divitiis animosa sius, immotaque cnnctis 
C^sil^us, ex alt& mortalia despicit arce. 
Attamen invltam blande vefltigat, et lUtro 
Ambit honor. Cloodiap. 

But mortals koow 'tis still Fame's greatest pitde 
To blaze those virtues which the godd would hide. 

Ibpe. 

There are few principles in human nature 
which exert a more umversal and powerful 
sWay over man, than that which impels him 
to seek the applause and esteem ot others. 
The love of praise will induce the sluggard to 
lay aside his inertness and engage in labori- 
ous occupations : it sometimes forces the vil- 
lain to conceal from common observation 
those thoughts of wickedness and guilt, which 
his soul revolves, and coolly reduces to sys- 
tem and to order in the seclusion of solimde: 
even the miser may be prevailed on by this 
passion to draw forth his hoards and emrfoy 
them in acts of b«neficence and charity* How 
fttrcHig must be a principle that ean even for 
a time change the nature and character of a 
man. How studiously should we endeavour 
to engage so powerful an auxiliary on the side 
of virtue. In the present paper it is my in- 
tention to throw out a few observations^tend- 
ing to show that this desire of praise m^ be 
more amply gratified by a life of virtue, than 
by a vicious course of conduct; that the praise 
is more sure and more permanent which is 
produced and excited by active virtue, than 
by any other mode. 

Thei^e is a natural propensity in every hu- 
man creature, existing in the bosoms even of 
the most profligate and abandoned, by which 
they are irresistibly impelled to yield homage 
to virtuous actions. This principle, implant- 
ed in Qiir nature to aid the powers of our cir- 
curoscribed understandings, and to give sta- 
.bility and strength to our tallible reasons, can 
be totally eradicated neither by a continued 
progression in the paths of guilt, nor by a vi- 
olent exertion of the will. However men 
may labour by sophistical reasoning to per- 
vert this power, which when the mind is illu- 
noinated by tlie rays of re^'elation, is an imer- 
ring judge ; however.they may endeavour to 
overcome its remonstrances by refusing to 
obey its dictates, their exertions will be inef- 
fectual : there still exists in every heart " a 
still small voice" which neither the violent 
Itssayltsof impasftionate strength, nor the sub- 
tle machinations of systematic vice can ever 
prevent being hear^^ Su«h being the case, it 



is more rational to suppc^e that commenda- 
tion will generally fall to the lot of those alone, 
whose good qualities deserve it. But this 
opinion is not only consistent with the de* 
ductions of reason, but it is sanctioned by tlie 
constant experience of every age and every 
nation. Interested and servile sycophant 
may seek to emblazon vice, and to gild with 
an artificial tinsel the foul and base ore, but 
the imposition is soon detected, and the cheat 
exposed. Many who wielded the sceptre of 
unlimited authority, whose brows were deco- 
rated with the laurel wreath of adventitious 
greatness, upon whose heads the splendid 
diadem glittered ; though the brilliancy of 
their actions destroyed by its effulgence the 
darknesaof the motives which induced them, 
though their importance and power obtained 
for them the hollow plaudits of slavish obse- 
quiancy ; other times and other persons have 
rendered them their due. The hatred and 
detestation of mankind rest upon their tombs. 
The characters of Tiberius, of Nero, and of 
Domkian, have been portrayed in all their 
deformity by the free and independent hand 
of Tacitus* Where is the wretch who envies 
them their characters ? Though on the other 
hand, the great and lofty virtues with a tow- 
ering elevation overawe and silence the petty 
cavils and idle assaults of direct opposition, 
and when seen command the unfeigned hom- 
age of the virtuous, and even the extorted 
and imwilling respect of the vicious, yet 
sometimes superiour physical strength may 
throw a veil over them and conceal them 
from common view. But this concealment 
cannot be permanent. History presents to 
us numberless instances where men have at 
lengthreceived a general acknowledgment of 
those virtues, which the insidious arts of de- 
signing men, the calunmies of slanderers had 
prevented, or which their modesty had never 
obtruded into public notice. No sooner had 
the Athenians time coolly to consider the 
character of the persecuted Socrates, whom 
Ae insidious artifices, and calumnies of his 
accusers had induced them to put to death, 
than they duly appreciated his merits, and 
retorted upon his enemies the sufierings to 
which they had exposed him. Camillus, after 
being exiledfrom his country mid hia friends, 
was afterwards received with shouts of ac- 
clamation as the saviour of Rome. Cicero 
and Aristides were banished for imputed 
crimes but their merits wew perceived and 
acknowledged. 

Let us turn from the view of characters 
thus elevated above the rest of mankind by 
superiour power, influence^r reputation, and 
descend into common life. In this part of 
our examinaUon the same results will be 
founds the same truths obvious. The man 



whose life has been employed in useless idle- 
ness, in dissipation, or in vice, may fov a tim< 
obtain that rcepect which is only due to su- 
periour moral excellence. Wealtli, artificial 
accomplishments, natural graces of manner, 
wit in conversation or some personal attrac- 
tions, may give hima temporary and delusi^ve 
elevation ; but it is a false and quickly fa- 
ding flower. Like the fantastic forms of 
frostwork it enchants our attention, and pre- 
sents a most beautiful appearanee ; but like 
this frostwork it can endure but for a short 
time. On the slightest reverse of fortune he 
is abandoned even by his admirers, the asso- 
ciates of his vices. WTien age incapacitates 
him from joining in their extravagances, 
when premature impotence and weakness 
have destroyed all his powers of captivation, 
when he can afford neither pleasure nor ad- 
vantage ; where are they who formerly pro- 
fessed dieir devotedness to his service, tncir 
affectionate attachment, their unalterable 
friendship ? . They who led him by their arti- 
fices, and seductions, into those scenes where 
his morals, his fortunes, and his character 
found an early tomb ? Where is his fame ? 
Where is the praise he so earnestly desired, 
and to obtain which he sacrificed every thing 
that can render the approbation of others de- 
sirable or gratifying ? The admiration that 
he " prized above all price*' leaves him be- 
fore he is dead ; and without the consolatory 
reflection that he possesses a single friend, 
that he has performed a single meritorious 
action, thoughts which can alone sooth the 
sufferings of the hour of death, he sinks into 
an early grave ♦'unwept, unhonoured" and 
despised. Is this the reputation and praise 
that a rational creature can desire ? Can suth 
an unsubstantial shadow satisfy the lofty ex- 
pectations of the high-bom soul ? A praise 
that withers in the bud, whose imaginary 
fruit can never be enjoyed ; that like the good 
things apparently within the reach of Tanta- 
lus elude nis grasp and disappoint his expec- 
tations? Look at the opposite picture. Look 
at the virtuous man in any situation. The 
excellence of his character obtains for him 
die most solid and durable reputation; it may 
for a time be obscured by accident, and con- 
fined witiiin the narrow precincts of his own 
bosom, but the ort)it«n which it moves grad- 
ually extends : 

** Friend, parent* neighbour, first it will embrao^. 
His countiy next, and next all human race/* 

His reputation constantly increases in bril- 
liancy. The tears of his friends water his 
grave, his memory withers not with the 
stock on which it grew, but grafted in the 
bosoms of his survivers, produces the riche«t 
fruit; an adherence to hb principles, an imit^- 



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tion of his actions. Even amopg the profli- 
gate he obtains respect. However they may 
affect to sneer at the correctness of his <:cn- 
duct, or ridicule the purity an J morality ot 
his heart, diey admire and venerate him.-^ 
*f hough adverse circumstances may obscure 
his real character; though envious malignity 
may tarnish his fame; yet his virtues will in a 
short time en^rge like the sun from behind 
a passing cloudy in all tfeeir native lustre. — 
There is a sentence of Musonious* called the 
golden maxiai,so apposite to the present sub- 
jects and in itself so perfectly correct and 
" worthy of aU acceptation*' that I cannot 
forbear quoting it, 

•Ar Ti^fOL^^K xfltxor juirdL woyv^ o jutr ^oyo^ o 

iX^TOU^ TO Se HOLKOV flint, 

'^Ay ri woinvvi xi<TXfOY junra vslovti^y rh /aiy 
nlv 0}}(iTAif 70 %% atiTXfo^ /xirf/. 

The meaning is this. Although the perform- 
ance of a laudable action may be laborious, 
vet the trouble and difficulty soon vanishes; 
but the benefits arising from it remain. But 
even if the commission of what is wrong is 
pleasurable, yet tlie pleasure soon depj^rts; 
the disaraqe remsuns forever. 

D. 



THE NEW JERSEY BIBLE SOCIETY. 

No, V. 

Zfiter/rom a rcspeuabk Ranum Catholic Pti^Jit m Snoa* 
bia to the jRev. Mr, Steinko^. 

*| You will ^ot, I trust, he di^leased^ if an 
entire stranger to vou presumes to acklresa 
you in a letter. I had the nleasure to kam 
from a copy of your letter aadressed to Mr. 
— — of Nurenburgb, the great nvimbtr 
of zealous friends of the Bible in Lc^dqp, 
wiio are filled with a pobte dewre to send put 
the pure word of God, 93 the be«t pEeac;hcr 
unto the world. This account excited in i»y 
breast the most heartfelt jpy and gratitude to 
that God " who is the only giver of eveuy 
good and perfect gift" — But I felt ako lively 
emotions of unfeigned love and affection for 
you, and for all the^ members of the v^oera- 
ble Bible Society, for whom I wish a tj)pus«' 
apd blessings. ,May the Lord Jesus, thi'oogb 
whom all blessipgs are communicated to us, 
be the beginning and end of their praisewor- 
thy undertaking ! and may hb name be glo- 
rified for it to all eternity !^- 

What particularly indtfcced me to write, 
was, your cjuestion, Whether the Bible was 
still prohibited to the Catholics? Being con- 
A iuccd tliereby, that you were mindful even 
of poor Catholics, I was particularly moved 
und edified : for indeed nothing is more af- 
fecting, than that love which embraces all. 
Without the least distinction J "for God is love; 
and he that d welleth in love, dwtlletb in God, 
ar I (><xl in him." — I feh myself therefore, 
constrained to thank, you, in the name of all 
honest and well disposed Catholics, for these 
your fraternal sentiments. , 

In answer to your question, I tb^ttv^ pro-^ 



perly speaking, the Bibk has never been pro- 
hibited to Catholics. The Council of Trent 
only state, *^ Indtscriminata lectio sacra scrip- 
turat tntcrdicta est.'*'* Well informed Catho- 
lics took this always in thut sense only; that 
not all books of %kie Bible, promiscuously, 
should be put into the hands of the conimon 
people, referring chiefly to some books of the 
Old Testament. Besides, this prohibition 
of the Council of Trent, has never been ad- 
mitted to be binding by the whole body of 
the Roman Catholic Clergy in Germany; but 
so much is true, that all blind bigots of our 
church, have always spread the opinion, that 
it was entirely forbidden for all Laymrn to 
read the Bible ; and this prejudice is, alas ! 
still deeply prevalent among the greater part 
of the people. There are, however, at pre- 
sent, many of our cltrg^men, both in Swabia 
and Bavgria, who strongly recommend the 
reading of the Bible, chiefly of the New- 
Testament, and do every tiling in their power 
to pronK>tc it. 1 have, for my own part, dis- 
tributed many New Testaments, arid some 
Bibles, among better enlightened Catholics ; 
and several of my 4ear Brethren in Christ do 
the same. Should an institution be establish- 
ed among us, upon your plan, I am sure we 
could dispose of a good number oi Bibles 
and New Testaments. The people seem to 
get more and more desirous of the Bible; and 
the nrnnber of Clergymen is increasing, who 
not only would tolerate, but commend, the 
reading of it. I feel a very great desire to 
witness the formation of a similar Bible So- 
ciet}' among the Roman Catholics ; and in- 
deed, I will make some attempts, though I 
foresee many difficulties; and can hardly sup- 
pose that so nvany active and benevolent 
irieads of the Bible are to be found aoiong 
the Roman Catholics, as woi>ld be Feqoisite 
for suoii an undertaking. Your question, 
howevo*. Inspecting the Catholics, inspires 
me wiA the hope, tliat your society is desi- 
rous to extend its beneficial influence Hkewise 
to (he Catholks, wishing only to know, 
whether a dispersion of BiUea among Aem 
wo«ld b% pvactkahk — and, indeed, it would 
ttot OAly be prac^cabk, but desiraMe in the 
big^iefit degree. 

Now I beg yott,tty clear Brother in Christ, 
to receive these few. lines in love. I write 
this, trusting it may be acceptable to your 
venerable Sooie^ I cMmot express in terms 
sufficient^ strong, Ac fervency of ray joy 
and love, towards aU, who, throughout Enc^- 
kuad, heartily believe in Jesus Christ as their 
only Saviour, and zealoudiy endeavour to 
extend the Redeemer'^ kingdom. I embrace 
them all as the beloved and elect of God: as 
Friends and Brethren in Christ, let them be 
of wiiatevcr name, or belong to whitfever 
church or denomination. The more distant 
the countries, and the more different the out- 
ward forms and establishments are, the more 
I rejoice, if I am privileged to bear, that our 
ever faithful Lord and Saviour is gathering 
from among them a flock of belie vmg people. 
Truly God has a numerous army of reserve^ 
in England, who do not bow before the 
Baal of the age, nor sacrifice to the God of 
the times. Let all who know his name, glo- 
rify him for his mercy! May the peace of 



God, and the all aufficiei^t grace of our Lord 
Jesus Christ be with you afl.'^ 



- Sumehotue, ^a- 



£xtract ©/"« leHerfrom Captain < ■ ■ 
n>emUr 18. 1806. 
** It is impossible to give you an adequate 
description of the anxiety that was manifest- 
ed by the poor Spaniards to get possession of 
a Testament; many sopgbt them with. tears 
and earnest entreaties; and although I had 
nearly enough for them all yet it was widi dif- 
ficulty they were pacified, until they receiv- 
ed from my hands, the word of eternal lifc# 
Since this, I have wimessed the most {^eas- 
ing sight that ever my eyes beheld — nearly 
a thousand poor Spanish prisoners, sitting 
round the prison v/alls^^-dmng what? read- 
ing the word of God with mi apparent ea^ 
gemess that would have put m^y professing 
Christians to the blusb.^' 

Extract cf a letter Jrc^n a Gehnan Ckrgymtui. * 
.^^ A iitUe while ago, a venerable old man 
sent for m«, and presented me with two 
sums of 1,100 fiorins each, one in aid of the 
Missionary cause, the other for circulating 
the word of God among our German Coun- 
trymen. Tears of gratitude bedewed his 
cheeks at the recollection of the many Ues- 
siags of God towards him : and that from a 
very small beginning, he now possessed a 
Gomfort^ible sufficiency, so that he was ena- 
bled to employ a portion of it to the promo- 
tion of his glory, and the good of his fellow 
men. But a tew days after this, a pious 
member pf my congregation called on me 
who had served for 40 years in a very res* 
pectable family,in which he is highly est^eem- 
ed, and where he has^ saved a considerable 
sum of money. He brought with him 300 
florins as a gift of love, to be employed solely 
for the printing and distribution of Bibles.^ 



EO« THJl 9.U|t4L VISXTKIU 

Mr. Editor^ 

From time imm^moriaT, the attentkra 
which the ladies have paid to the decorati^s 
of their persons, has fcw^n a standing theme 
for declamation or i:idicule with the gentk^ 
men. These masters of reastm-— the^e lu- 
minaries of the world, have talked and 
written as if it were an act of treason to run 
counter to their opinions, even in matters of 
dress and etiquette. When hoops were in 
fashion, then our sex were compared to a 
set of ntoving hogslieads.— When narrow 
clothes were the ton, theij forsooth we re- 
sembled so many radishes. When our 

tresses flowed on our necks, then we dressed 
like Indian squaws— and wben our hair was 
braided up behind—- why tlicn it w as a fe- 
shjon a iagtetUotme. In rfiort, amcx5g a cer- 
tain class of oticrulous, critical gentlemen, 
we are a set ol light-minded, shallow beings, 
whose faculties are too feeble, or too narrow 
for any thing but adjusting the iraportunt 
concerns of the toilet, tlie^ntn-sery, or the 
tea table. 

Whatever they may profess when in com- 
pany with the lovehjf^ ones^ they seem to 
think that from caprice or want of iatellect, 
^^ most women have no diaracter at all ^'^ or 



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iv 



if thejr cininot deny them a portion of mind 
and manners, they think ihcn^ *' best dis- 
ti^iguish'd by black, brown, or fair/' Wiicn 
Imeet with such gentf)', %\'ho by their man- 
ners or the opinions they express, seem to 
favour sentinieiUs like these, I feel disposed 
for retaliation, and 's^ash for an opportunity 
^of calling the attention of these high minded 
wlseaci-es to their own follies and whims.— 
That one of the " weaker sex'* as these gen- 
tlemen so compassionately st\'le us, whose 
empire is so circumscnbed — who by cduca- 
don and habit arc cl^arged with the details 
of domestic affairs — !:hat the gentle an^ tcn^ 
dtr sex should pay any attention to the ever- 
varying hues of fashion — should ornament 
their persons, their houses, or their tables, 
to etdarge the sphere of innocent enjoyment, 
need not excite extraordinary' surprise — ^but 
that the disciples of Newton, and of Locke , 
of Blackstone, and of CuUen — that thoee 
who are preparing for the grand and learned 
pTofessions^^who iu*e looking forward with- 
in a vtry short period, to an appearance in 
the pulpit, at the bar, or on the floct- of Con- 
gress, should attath so much importance to 
the cut of dieir coats, the fashion of their 
boots, &C. is really quitfe laughable* A very 
inteHigent young gehtfeman of my acquaint- 
ance, who not lortg since took his first de- 
gree in the arts, would be as much shocked 
at appiearing in combany with his white topt 
boots — tight and kji'-^r 'With a black taBsel 
dangling' at hi^ shin; as he would be at 
wearing a broad brim, or going into compa- 
ny with his slippers. Unless his hair is 
hhished in the most gentefeUy frightful man- 
ner — ^tmle^s it is cut by a professed hair 
dresser— exactly according to the whim of 
the day, he is in a state of fever : his waist- 
coat must be up to his chin ; his shirt collar 
must project just so far and no farther ; his 
hat must havfe just such a cut, and his *Sm- 
tvarroxvs must have the fashionable swell 
and high heels, or my young friend docs not 
think himself in decent trim to appear a- 
broad. Do, Mf . JEditor, inform the young 
gentlemen who may peruse your paper, that 
there are some of your female readers who 
attend more to the internal than to the ex- 
ternal accomplishment of their male ac- 
quaintance I that there are some few ladies 
who are so presumptuous as to lay cl&im to 
some portion of discernment and common 
setose ; and whatever they may say, cannot 
help suspecting, when they iee one of the 
lords of the creation very Scrupulous in 
watching the changing fashions of the day, 
and more attentive to exteriour decorations 
than to intellectual qualifications, that in 
same part of his brain there is a soft place'. 

EUPHEMIA. 



Tb(B lAuses are mofe elegant, more in- 
structive, and more pleasing compas^iond^ 
thin dogis, horses, gamblers, or sots. 

Silver is less valuable than gold^ gold than 
virtue. 

Ueridi is tiie vital principle of btits; and 
eKtrcweofkeabii* 



POU THB KVRAL VlitfElt, 

Mr. Editor, 

If you think ihc foHcwir.5 wonhy jour attention, 
you are at liberty 10 insert a in your useful papor. 
It has no prctea;)ions*io poetic merit, but as ihe 

' first attempt, it will perliaps claiia )Our indul- 
gucnce. 

THE RETROSPECT. 

When the €un had sunk to rest, 

Far behind the wtrjrern hill, 
And the moon bean^'v silver cresf, 

Irfightly gUttcr'd on the rill j 

Then I left my humble home, 

To enjoy the glittering scene-, 
For, I love abroad to roam 

When my bosom is serene, 

3ome aloft on fancy's wiog, . 

I simrey'd the heights of fanoc, 
A«d I thought bow many sing. 

To obtain a deaihk-ss fiaine. 

But the line that freely flows 

From truth's sacred fount, sincer^v 

Fame on such her wreath bestows. 
When they make her precepts ck^. 

" Imtiaoi," fraught with nrM>ral lore, 
While we read thy counsels sage. 

Glad we scan thy pages o'er. 
They arc from experienced age 

Still, thy gentle aid impart, 

• Teach tile vhtties how to gtoilf, 
Aiiimate th« drooping heart, 

Drooping *neath the weiglu of woe. 

Tfaost vihm Time's fof th«e *o more. 
And the puUe of life shall ceasev 

When thy work on earth is o'er, 
Be tUy close the dose of peafe. 

" 1," whoie sweetly flowing lay. 

Can the gentle heart beguile^ 
•Still pursue thy wonted way, 

And revrtrd shaH greet ihy toil. 

May the muses weave for th»e 

A garland, to adorn thy brow, 
And thy merit still shall be 

Sung by those thou leav'st below. 

" Filgrim" stop that woeful strain. 
Look for comfort's soothing §miU ; 

Let sweet Hope thy gHeftr^trafrl, 
She can sure thy c^res beguile. 

May thy " Mustard seed of faith" 
Swell, and bud, and grow apace ; 
. .Then when freed by friendly deaUi • 
Thou shalt live in realnris of peace. 

«' Ctd,^' thy labomv still pursue. 
Friendship's sweats thou can'st portray. 

And the joys she holds to view. 
Thou hast show'd in colours ^y, 

Np man is from efrrour free. 

And his faults we must not blame ; 

But. though Action pleasing be, 
Fancy*i5 flights we should restrain. 

O'er ** An^eriaW early tomb. 

Fast descends soft pity's tear ; 
May a crown of laurel bloom, 

For him who sung her sorrows here. 

And most surely " Walter's" song. 
Now demands our warmest praise, 

Btill may tie those notes pi*<ilong, 
OtVner cheer us wiffa his lays. 

Cynthia's faint and lingering ray. 

Scarcely gtittcrs on the plain ; 
And so feeble is thi^ lay, 

Prudence says,—** lay down thy pen." 

Wisdom ever be your guide. 

May vou all her paths pursue ; 
Thea will happiness preside, 

Stied her sacred srodcs o*cr you. 



If these Iinc»« you should approve, 

It will an innate my pt»n ; 
And my thoughts to >yn may rove 

When I take it up again. 

F(il». r, 18U. ♦ llARRItT. 



FOU THE BUHAL vmTBt. 

RHAPSODISt. 
No. II. 

Again 1 wake from temporary death. 
\\ herein my sou! a sweet abstraction fiuinp 
From all its little troubles. Vain indeed, 
And trifling as the world that gives them bit^t^;- 
What are they ?— Yet a few revolving years 
And they afb fled-^and we, poor sojoui ners, 
That perish ore our works are half consumed. 
Swept from these fleeting objects of our care. 
Shall leave them to a race *♦ that knows us not^^— 
Then wherefore competition ? Why iiikbitter 
The fleeting moments that connect oxir fates. 
With Jarring interests?— With senseless fortHs 
i-eitV:iig the mind, tfiat, with expansive po^ef, 
Seeks to embrace its brethren of mankind. 
And m the pure delights of social bve 
To smooth the ruggtd paths of human life. — 
Rugged, full well this aching bosom knoM» s. 
In which each month of the preceding year. 
In characters not soon to be effaced 
Has writ its date— Not void indeed of pain 
Has been the tcnbr ^f my earlier days 
Frmn boyhood, up— Yet still alive to joy, 
'* Henceforth this heart elastic, oft would throw 
Her burden off f and diince to Nature's charms.**— 
But why pursue, my muse, this beaten track ? 
What heart can long retain its buoyant power 
'Gainst the reiterated strokes of woe ? 
I feel its fiery eneigies subside— 
I feel a saddening damp presaging clear 
A spt^dy close.— Long has the fatal hour 
Been, kjept aloof by vain unfounded hopeiH** 
By hopes of hap|>incss on this side death — 
Yes— I had hoped to slake my thirsting soul 
Deep in the cup of sweet domestic bliss.— 
But ail ! by heaven's decree for these fond lips 
Tjiat cup too pore, — What soul bewildering doubts 
And cares unblessed, their troubled potions pour 
Into the blissful bowl. Then let me dr<4> 
One parting rear, with silent anguish fraught 
lm» the mntgled draught— and then adieu ! 
Come then, Indrfference! and reign entire 
0*er prostrate agonies of hope and fear 
Tin Death's dork hand, shall veil the joyless 8Ce«e 
Forever flwm'my view— 

And come thou King of Terrors ! (falsely called) 
Come quickly— Interpose thy friendly hand; 
And shield me from the cruel fangs of life ! 
Nav ! rather Resignation ! thou canst bind 
Tilt monster Self, of Peace the grejiiest foe. 
Come then, itnd teach my heart ih^se potent words 
•• Thy will be done." So shall life still be sweet. 
Eastern Shore, Mory^atui. 



rOR TBS RVRAL VISITCf . 

THE FARTING TEAR. 

Dear girl, though fbrc'd froin thee to p«9r, 
One thought will still my bosom cheer; 

That thought some comfort will impart, 
Remombrance of— the prt-tiog tear. 

Then LrcY, though Vm f^r away 
From thee, and all any heait holds dear. 

Yet memory stijl affords one ray 
Of comfort, in— the parting tear. 

What though no ttlativc— no friendi^ 

What though myLvoV be nt>t near— « 

Fond memory stili one joy can lend. 
The luxury of-^hc parting tear. 

Hail, golden Hope ! compartioD bright, 
' Who givest to the mental sight 

Joys which my bosom che^r; 
Continue loitering time to cheat 
O give the proipect soon to meet 

And dry— the partinf tear. 

EDWAHI^. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



JFOE IH* aURAi VISIJER. 

SOJOURNER, 
. No. X. 

Weary with travelling one summer's day, 

While Sol in Cancer shed meridian beams, 

1 lay roe down beside a shaded run, 

My horse thc^while the herbage round me crept— 

The water chiming on the pebbles, drove 

My cares away, and as I slept I dreamt.-^ 

Thus ran my dream— I thought beside me stood 

A much loved friend, who seized me by the hand, 

And pointing to a distance, spake me thus.— 

Arise my friend,— before we put to sea. 

Before we spread our canvass to the gale 

Which soon will blow us— Ah we know not where, 

Into a troubled sea where rocks abound,— 

Wheve some on envy* more on interest split, 

And thousands, hurried headlong thro' the waves 

By false ambition's peace-consuming storms, 

Lie whelmed in that abyss they most abhorr'd— 

Before we weigh to encounter such rude fate, 

Oh! let's revisit once that humble roof 

Where our dear tutor, with parental care, 

And with an anxious eye look'd o'er his flock;— ^ 

And often as be pondered on the past, 

The many storms he passM thvough on th'is sea. 

How has he sigh'd with many an ardent wish, 

That we nnight seek that pilot he had found, 

Who> he dedared, had never failed to steer 

His barque aright, when, with undoubting faith, 

He cheerfully resigned the helm to him. — 

Hec^ised— then walk'd before and bade mccomc- 

1 followed musing— In my secret mind 

Revolving what I just had heard and seen— 

But sorrow sought relief, and I replied, 

And must we then (brsaike this calm smooth riveri 

These charming solitudes upon its banks ? 

This range of walks, this ** wilderness of sweets," 

And all these sweet retreats which we have long, 

Together linked in friendship and in iovei 

Enjoyed secure ? — Must we change scenes like these 

For stormy sea^ for tempests, and for clouds; 

Forlorn, and wand'ring from our native home ? 

Shall I forget • • •—Thou • ♦ ♦ 

Then life, and health, and youth are all in vaillt^ 

And happy he who never had a friend— ^ 

•* Or ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is bliss." 

And now methoogfat we near approached the hiU, 
When on a sudden evening clothed the sky 
With sable robe— And zephyrs from the flood. 
On dewy Winers their pensive influence shed 
Upon our eyehds. Grateful was the change 
Inspiring sweet serenity within. 
Soothing the passions to a peaceful calm. 
And granted to the brain 
A moment's respite from the lash of thought. 
Next to my view my raptured fancy brought 
The go)den age in aU its beauty drest— 

No martial clangour fiU'd my ear. 

The hdrrid sound of war was fled; 
Ambition from his brazen car, 

Slept with the <• mute, inglorious" dead. 

I saw no man his neighbour wrong, . 

Or spoil bis goods, or blast his name j 
No gall devolved from his tongue 

'Gainst honest fane. 

No fancy 'd wants oppressed with care. 
Nor filled the mind with slavish fear, 
Jfor simple was their daily fare, 

With. ease procured* 

Mercy prevailed the world around. 

And man and beast no looger groan'd. 
Beneath th? oppressive burden bound 
Of undue CiiL 

I felt my heart within me rise. 
With joy I viewed the glorious prize 

But ah ! in vain- 
Truth soon the pleasing vision broke, 
And straight my slamb'ring reason t^roke ' 

To guilt and pain. 



FOt THE mUEAL VlSIlTZR. 

An imitation of " TJk Snovs Drop^** by y. Montgomery, 

Sorrow! retire- 
To dark oblivion's night 
Extend thy sluggish flight.— 

Sorrow ! retire— 
'TIS time that thou and I should part- 
Give place to gladnes« in my heart. 

Leave thy seat within my breast, 
JLeave it, once more to be blest 
By those scenes of purest joy 
Which, increasing, never cloy. 

Sorrow! retire- 
Hence with thy bloodshot eyeS 
Hence with thy swollen face- 
To pleasures which the wise 
And witty love^^give phioe. 

Let me hail the lovely boy 

Clad in robes of lively joy. 

Hail, all hail I the thrilling pleasure 

Which two wedded lovers prove ; 

Hail sweet rapture, without measure. 

Hail the bliss of mutual love. 

** Ai^spicious to the Muse's prayer," 

Sorrow's legions flit away 

Joy's bright pleasures gild the day 

And Love and Music's voice enfant the air. 

LEANDER* 



FROM THE GENIUS OF LIBERTY. 

Ah! why, in this care-woven region of iorrow, 

Must ev'ry enjoyment be tinctur'd with pain? 
Why o'er, the pale cheek must grief chase her deep 
furrow, 

And life's fairest ftowVels whh bitterness stain? 
For what previous state of eicietencs confined. 

Has the soul in the mazes of vwe been ea^raird, 
That happiness thus should be banish'd the mind. 

And fly from the heart by misfortune appall'd? 

Wh}-» dsice the beneficent Riiler of heaven 

In love and in mercy must surely delight. 
Oh' why to mankind has it never been given, 

To baak in the sunshine of pleasure and light I 
Why are we condemnViin thia valley of tears, 

With sorrow, with sickness and pain to contend. 
While so transient the beam of contentment which 
cheers t*- * 

Those troubles and griefs ^e tpmb only can end ? 

*Twas thus that the mists of conjecture en^rouded 

A mind to reflection and virtue inclin'd ; 
^Twas thus the illusions of fancy o*evclouded * 

The twilight of science which dawn'd in the mind. 
In vain the high aid of philosophy came. 

Nor dispers'd the vet lingering shadowiT of night. 
Till reason illumined her torch at the flame, 

Vhich streaiiu o'er Reli^on's bright aitarits light. 

But soon as that radiant effulgence pervaded, 

The bosom where doubt and conjectdie had reign'dy 
Ev'ry cloud frt>m before its mild influence ^ed. 

And peace and contentment the empire regain'd. 
'Tis not from the crim^ of a previous state 

That suffering, sorrow, and evil arise; 
This life is iuelf but a tempest-toss'd strait. 

Beyond which the port of eternity lies. 

And pain by omnipotent love was invented. 

To weaken the chains which enslave us to life; 
Oor earlhly enjoyments in mercy are blended 

With bitterness, sorrow, contention, and strife, 
aut a few fleeting years, and the struggle is o'ci^- 

The spirit shall leave her terrestrial abode. 
And to regions of blissful eternity soar, 

Whera the caxe-wasted mourner shall rest whh her 
GOD. 



On agentkman marrying a 3fiss Rod. 

The wedded state has oft been styi'd 

The tcour^c of joys, 'tis odd 
Its chastening hf nd though Damon' knew, 

He bending kiss'd the Rov* 



ON IMPUDENCE AND MODESTY. 

I have always been of opinion, that the 
common complaints against Providence lire 
ill grounded, and that the good or bad qua- 
lities of men are the causes of their good or 
bad fortune more than what is generally 
imagined. There are, no doubt, instances 
to die contntt^', and these too pretty nume- 
rous ; but few in comparison of the instances 
we have of a right distribution of prosperity 
and adversity : nor indeed cotild it be other- 
wise from the common (bourse of human af- 
fairs. To be endowed widi a benevolent 
disposition, and to love others^ wiH afandst 
tnfallibly procure love and esteem, whkh is 
the chief circumstance in life, and facilitates 
every enterprise and undertaking; besides 
the satisfaction which immediately results 
from it* The case is inuch the same with 
the other virtues. Prosperity is naturaUy^ 
though not necessarily attached to virtue 
and merit; and adversit}'', in like manner^ 
to vice and folly. 

I must however confess, that this rule ad- 
mits of an exception with regard to one nio- 
ral quality ; and ^at modesty has a natubd 
tendency to conceal a man's talents, as impU' 
2/(?nc^ displays them to the utmost, aodnas 
been die only cause why many have risen, in 
the world, under all the disadvantages ol 
low birth and little meriti Such indolence 
and incapacity is there in the generality of 
mankind, that they are apt to receive a man 
f(M- whatever he has a mind to put himself 
oflF for ; and admit his overbearing airs aff 
proo& of that merit which he assumes to 
himself. A decent assurance seems to be 
the natural attendant on virtue, and few 
paen can distinguish impudence from it : as, 
on the other hand, diffidence being the natu- 
ral result of vice and folly, has drawn dis- 
grace upon modesty, which in outward ap- 
pearance so nearly resembles it. 

I was lately lamenting to a ftiend of mine, 
who loves a conceit, dial popular smplause 
should be bestowed with so little judgment, 
and that so many empty forward coxcombs 
should rise up to a figifre in the world : up- 
on which he said there was nothing surpri- 
sing in the case. Popular fame^ says he, i$ 
notning but breath or air ; and air very na- 
turaUy prtsses into a vacuum. 

As impudence, though really a vice, has 
the same effects upon a man's fortune, as if 
It were A virtue J so we may observe, tkitit 
is almost as difficult to be attained, and is, in 
that respect distinguished from sdl die other 
vices, which are acquired with Jitde pains, 
and continually increase upon iiidulgeace.— 
Many a man, being sensible that modesty i» 
extremely prejudicial to him in niatking his 
fortune, has resolved to be impudent, and to 
put a boldface upon the matter; but it is 
observable, that such people have seldom 
Succeeded in the attenipt, but have be^ 
obliged, to relapse into their primitive mo- 
desty. Nothii^ carries a man through tJjc 
>vvorld like a true genuine natural imf.<iideBce. 
its counterfeit is ffood for nothing, nor caa 
ever support itself. In any other af^tnpl, 
whatever faults a man comn^its tod i^^ensi- 
ble of, he is so ptuch the ne^ner hk paL — 



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But when he endeavours at impudence, if he 
ever failed in the attempt, the remembrance 
of that failure will make him blush, and will 
infallibly disconcert him i after which, e ve- 
ry blush i9 a cause for new blushes, till he 
fe found out to be an airant cheat, and a 
eain pretender to impudence. 

If any thing can give a modest man more 
assurance, it must be some advantages of 
fortune which chance procures to him.— 
Riches naturally gain a man a favourable re- 
eepti(» in the world, and give merit a dou- 
ble lustre when a person is endowed with it j 
md they supply its place in a great measure 
when it is absent. It b wonderful to ob- 
ser\'e what airs of superiority fools and 
koaves, with large possessions, give them- 
selves above men ot the greatest merit in 
poverty. Nor do the men of merit make 
any strong opposition to these usurpations ; 
or rather seem to favour them by the mo- 
desty of their behaviour. ' Their good sense 
And experience make them diffident of their 
judgment, and cause tliem to examine every 
diing with the greatest accuracy. As, on 
the other hand, the delicacy, of their senti- 
ments makes them timorous lest they com- 
mit faults, and lose in the practice of the 
world that integrity of virtue^ so to speak, of 
which diiey are so jealous. To make wis- 
dom agree with confidence^ is as difficult as 
to reconcile vice and modesty. 

These are ^e reflections which have oc- 
curred upon thiii subject of impudence and 
modesty ; and I hope the reader will not be 
displea^sed to see them wrought into the fol- 
lowing alle^ry. 

Jupiter, m the beginniQg, joined Virtue, 
Wisdom, and Confidence together; and 
Vice^ FoUy, and Diffidence ; and thus con- 
nected, sent them into the wcM*ld. But 
though he thought that he had matched them 
with great judgment, and said that Confix 
dence was^the natural companion of Virtue, 
and that V)c« deserved to be attended with 
Diffidence; they had not gone far before 
dissention af9se among them. WtsdoBi, 
who was the guide of the one company, was 
always accustomed^ before she ventured u^ 
OB any road, however beaten, to examine it 
carefully, to inquire whither it led, what 
dangers, difficulties, and hindrances might 
possibly or probably occur in it. In these 
dcliberaiions she usually consumed some 
time i which delay was very dis|deasing to 
ConfideacCy who was always mdined to 
hurry on, without much forethought or dc- 
fiberation, in the .first road he met. Wis- 
dom and Virtue were inseparable ; but Con- 
fidence one day following his impetuous na- 
ture, advanced a considerable way before 
his guides and companions^ and not feeling 
any want of their company, he never inqui- 
red, after them, nor ever met. with them 
more. In like maimer the other Bociety^ 
thoug^joined by Jupiter, disagreed and se- 
parated. As Folly saw very little way be- 
fore her^ she had nothing to determine con- 
cerning the goodness of roads, nor could 
she give the preference to one above ano- 
thet; and this want of resolution was in- 
creased by^ Diffidence, who with her doubts 
and scru|des, always retarded the journey. 



This was a great annoyance to Vice, who 
loved not to hear of difficulties and delays, 
and y^s never satisfied without his full ca- 
reer, in whatever his inclixrations led him to. 
Folly, he knew, though she hearkened to 
Diffidence, would be easily managed when 
alone ; and therefore, as a vicious horse 
throws his rider, he openly beat away this 
controller of all his pleasures, and proceed- 
ed in his journey with Folly, from whom he 
is inseparable. Confidence and Diffidence 
being after this manner both thrown loose 
from their respective companies, wandered 
for some time ; till at last chance led them 
at the same time to one village. Confidence 
went directly up to the great house, which 
belonged to Wealth, the lord of the village, 
and without staying for a porter, intruded 
himself immediately into the innermost a- 
partments, where he found Vice and Folly 
well received before him. He joined the 
train ; recommended himself very quickly. 
to his landlord ; and entered into such a fa- 
miliarity with Vice, that be was enlisted in 
the same company with Folly. They were 
frequent guests to Wealth, and from that 
moment inseparable. Diffidence, in the 
mean time, not daring to approach the great 
house, accepted of an invitation from Pov- 
er^, one of the tenants ; and entering the 
cottage, found Wisdom and Virtue, who 
being repulsed by the landlord, had retired 
thidier. Virtue took compassion of her, 
and Wisdom found from her temper, that 
she would easily improve ; so they admitted 
hef into their society. Accordingly, by 
their means, she altered in a little time some- 
what of her manner, and becoming mtich 
more amiable and engaging, was now known 
by the namue gf Modesty. As ill company 
has a greater effect than good, Confidence, 
though more refractory to counsel and ex- 
ample; degenerated so far by the society of 
Vice and Folly, as to pass by the name of 
Inipudence. Mankind, who saw these so- 
cieties as Jupiter first joined them, and know 
nothing of these mutual desertions, are 
thereby led into strange mistakes ; and, 
wherever they see Impudence, make ac- 
count of finding Virtue and Wisdom ; and 
wherever they observe Modesty, call her 
attendants Vice and Folly. 

.1 HUME. 



LITERARY. 

Wc have observed in the N. York Spec- 
tator, an address to the public from three 
gendemen of that city as a committee in be- 
half of odiers, laying open a plan for the 
establishment of ** A permanent Literary 
Socie^." Without venturing to express 
an opinion as to its eventual success, we 
cannot refrain from saying, &at if it fadls^ ^ 
we apprehend the cause ol literature in the 
United States will sustain a serious injury. 
From as50ciaticH)6 of this nature, advantages 
both extensive, important, and permanent, 
may be rationally expected: and we need 
only refer to the history of literature in ma- 
' ny of the nations of Europe, to ascertain tb 



what an extent they may be carried in each 
of these points. Our limits not allowing us 
to iitdulge in those observations which we 
would gladly express upon the proposed as- 
sociation, nor to insert the whole of their 
address, in which, with a modest yet firm 
manner^ they express their objects and their 
views, we shall merely subjoin a few ex- 
tracts from it in order to shew the leading 
principles which actuate them, and the na- 
ture of the projected society ; cordially ex- 
pressing our hopes of its ultimate success, 
beyond the expectations of those concerned. 

" Independent of the testimony of expe- 
rience, the mere unassisted reason of every 
individual must convince him of this almost 
self evident proposition-*— that perfection in 
any art or science is to be attained only by a 
course of regular and well directed practice. 
If therefi[>re, the science of clear, compre- 
hensive, and systematical reasoning be at 
all desirable, and if the faculty of embody- 
ing our conceptions in apt and appropriate 
language, and of expressing our ideas in 
a forcible and impressive style, possess any 
value, the committee feel confident in as- 
serting that thb science and this Jacult^^ may 
more readily be obtained by means of the 
contemplated association, than by any other 
method which could possibly be devised.—- 
The leading features of the proposed society 
may be generally stated as follows. The 
production of Essays hi the various depart- 
ments of Belles Lettres and Polite Literar 
turc— and psuticularly in relation to such 
subjects as may tend to throw li^ht upon the 
natural, political, andllterary history of our 
own country ; Disputation, or the discussion 
of questions relative to Physical, Metaphy- 
sical, Political, and Moral Science ; Rheto- 
ric, and all the other minor branches of stu- 
dy connected with it ; and in fine, to im- 
prove, by every possible expedient, the 
minds, the habits, and the general charac- 
ters, not only of those who may join in this 
association, but also of all others to whom 
their influence may be made to extend.— 
Whilst the nations of Europe are decUn^ng 
with a continually increasing rapidity from 
the (>roud and eminent stations which they 
once held among the nations of the earth, 
the inhabitants of this favoured land are 
rising with a continually accelerated pro- 
gression to the highest attainments within 
the compass of human knowledge. 

*' To render ourselves worthy of partaking 
in this general improvement, as well as to 
secure a portion of those blessings which are 
evidendy within our reach, is the duty and 
the privilege of every individual; and we arc 
aU well convinced, that nothing can more 
effectually tend to produce these results, thari 
the Society in contemplation. By means of 
this, a general fund of information will be 
constituted on which each may draw to the 
full extent of his inclin Jtion. By uniting the 
literary treasures of all into a common stock, 
the general progress of each will be accele- 
rated with infinitely greater rapidity. Those 
who possess little, wiU find that little ever in- 
creasing ; and those, who have already m^dc 
considerable advances in intellectual im- 
provement, will be stimulated to new exe*- 



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t^ons, and ^^nablecl to rise to ^till greater 
heights in the scale of human excellence. So 
extensive, in fact, arc the views of this asso- 
ciation, that it contemplates not mercK' the 
acquisition of knowledge, ana the deve- 
lop.*merit of the mental powers in those who 
n»ay become members of it i but it also pro- 
poses to ferect a permanent body, whose 
strongest exertions shall be directed to the 
suppression of vice^ and the encouragement 
of virtue ; — which shall oppose an effectual 
barrier to the progress of licentiousness, and 
form a rallying point for s^lKsuch as are desi- 
rous of enlisting in the caAse of morality and 
truth :— and to promote by every possible 
method, not only the good of those who 
may compose the association, but likewise 
to extend its benefits to the community at 
luge. 

*" In order that the Institution may acquire 
a permanency and a, respectability stffficient 
for the attainment of its objects, it is intend- 
ed to apph' for an act of incorporation as 
soon* as may be deemed expedient: and 
considering tlie nature and objects of the so- 
cTetv, and the vety beneficial results which 
muv be expected from it, the committee 
cherish the idea, that die legislature of this 
s'tate, which ranks among me first for the 
encouragement of literature and science, 
may be induced not merely to constitute us 
a corporate body, bat likewise to grant such 
pecuniary aids as the infancy of tne society 
may reauire. The erection of a society li- 
brary wiU also l)e a desirable object, and may 
be effected by die voluhtary contribution of 
books from the private coUectrons of itsr 
members, and of those who may hereafter 
i>e disposed to further the objects of the so*^ 
ciety bv such donations. 

*' From these remarks it may rcadHy 
be inferred, that an association is contem- 
plated of a natdre v«ry different from a 
common Debating Society, and infinitely 
superiour to it; that it will contain within it- 
self all the advantages of an Athenaum, and, 
in fact, constitute what the United States 
do not yet possess, An Academy of Bslles^ 
iMtres and Polite Literature. In confor- 
mity to the practice of similar Eurojiean In- 
stitutions, it is contemplated to propose a 
certain number of topics y^rly, connected 
with the views of the society, ajnd to confer 
bome p#culiar distinction upon thbse whb 
ipay, return die mbfst 'satisfactory essays 
tliereon." 

After this exposition of their object, the 
committee thus proceed to remark upon the 
probability of their success. 

*^ Whatever ittay be the eventual success 
c*f the present undertaking, they ave very 
confident, that however they may err m the 
manner of their proceeding, the purity and 
correctness of their motives can never be 
impt- ached. They mAy perhtips be charged 
with having framed a plan which cannot be 
carried into execution-— to this it may be an- 
swered, that tlie plan is feasible — that the 
present stai** of society in this city warrants 
it — dwAt there is abupdaot strength to sup- 
port it : and that a failure of success must be 
attributed to no other caise than to the most 
lanientable coldness of those who ure now 



called upon to assist Ih eflfectuating tiie pro- 
posed design. The committee think proper 
to state, that this call is by no means con- 
fitied to those engsiged in any particular pro- 
fession or pursuit ; but is to be considered as 
exteijding to tdl who have any regard to the 
interests of literature, and who feel a de- 
sire to partalcc of the benefits contemplated 
by this association. 

'* It may be asked, how is it that this ar- 
duous uRderteking, which proposes die e- 
rection of so extensive a fabrick, bets origi- 
nated only among a few obscure individu- 
als, who possess neither inftuence uor credit 
sufficient to carry it into execution ? Simply 
for this reason { that no others have been 
found who possess the resolution to make 
the same experiment. — Grateful would i^ 
feel to be relieved from the burden which we 
have not voluntarily assumed, and which we 
win gladly resign, to those who may be 
more cocftpetent to support it.'^ 



TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

We have received a note from a correspondent 
whose compo^tions w6 highly value, pdintmg out 
some errata in one of his pl^cee; which we ftgrct-* 
but have »ince exahiined the bngtnal copy, atia find 
the words he mentions, one excepted, so illegible, 
that not niQch cenaxire, we prcstrme, can ht attachad 
to an crrotir in decypheritig them. 'Withteapect t» 
the punctuation, he not having attended to it at aU, 
we were obliged to exercise our own judgment { and 
it is not to be supposed that any person is so weU qoa- 
liBed for the task as the author himseff. We take 
this opportunity of requesting those who faVonr lit 
with their productions, to write legibly : and to pajr 
]mrticular attention to the punctuation. 

We have taken the liberty of making a* few ahera- 
tiofjs in one of this week's lucohrations— we hope the 
author will gtant theh* propriety, and excuse oa for so 
doing. 

Tl^e History of Atn^ra-^Fert SeneX'^J Patroh^yu- 
lia^JEliza-^yeTuiy^T fl^— -^ S, and #. have resched 
their port of destinatten. 



INTELLIGENCE. 

FORSTGN^ 

Bonaparte has received another shotk of his oM 
complaint It is much like the falling sickness.— It 
is a little remarkable that Caesar was affiicted witfi the 
same disorder. That two of the greatest generals the 
world has produced should both be liable to a disease 
so rare, will ^S^brdi matter for curious speculation to 
the natnralist. 

The Emperor of Germany |ias ledt Bonaparte 
80,000 troops to relieve the French army \ one half of 
which had been sent to reenforce Massena, and the 
rest to Denmark and Switzerland! 

Passed through Bayonne from 26th to 29th Dec. 
between 40 and 50,000 troops, composed of infantry, 
cavalry, and artillery, presumed to be the reenforce- 
tnent to Massena. 

The Grand Seignior h|is granted to Bonaparte free 
passage to Egypt for his troops, and an army had 
marched through Dalmatia, 

A new conscription has been lately made of 150,000 
men for the marine, which indicated a disposition on 
the part of France oace more to^ try her strength on 
the ocean. 

We undcrstartd that a deO'ee has passed incorpo- 
rating Hamburgh and the other Hanse towns into the 
French empire. 

l^attst froftn CztA?.— Ceptanr Howlacd of the brig 
Orion, sailed from Cadiz on the 26th of December, 
a4d informs us, that on the day of his departure, the 
British gun boats made an attacic upon the Fretich 
batteries ; that durmg the action*, several bomb sh^!s 
fell into Cadiz, which did considerable damage ; one 
shell ftll upon a school house, killed the mistress of 
it, and took off a boy's legs. Capt. H, further states, 
that considerable confusion was discovered on board 
the Spanish Admiral *s ship, and it was said a' shell 
had fallen on board from tne French batteries. The 
firi^g^had not ceased when Capt. VL a^lei.. 



Flour at Cadit, wai IS dollars ; Rice dull — Uail 
one dollar 5^ cents. 



T)OM£STXC. 

1%! question rdtktive to the Bank of the U, Sraiei 
is de^ed in the Senate by the vote oT t^ Vice Pre 
sident, Mr. Clinton. 17 members of the Senate v.ei 
for the renewal of the ctiarter, and 17 against it. Mn 
Clinton g^ve his vote against it, and the charter 
consequently lost. 

General Turreau has presented to the President hi 
letters of recall ; and M. Scrrurier was received Jm< 
presented his credentials, as envoy extraordinary an^ 
minister plenipotentiary From^ the emperor of FranctJ 

A letter from Wasbington, received at Philadd 
phia, say*^" It is reported here, that the French Mn 
nisier, Serrurier, is instructed tcr demand, that wi 
should interdict our v^ssett froM going to Cadiz d 
Ltt^n.*^ 

On the 33d uU. the L«ftsiatura of New*Jcrsejr ros^ 
without day. 

The resolutions against the Bank of the XT. Statei 

*di^ in Council, that body refusiftg to take them x.^ 

for cons2deration.-^AU ^e bank bills reqtiesttofi^ char* 

ters have failed. 

We understand that ao despatches wero^ receive 
from France by the late arrival from Rochellc. 

Authentkrk letters ftom New-Orleans, of Jatitiar^ 
13th, state tbatt Mobile is stilt in poisessioA of th'« 
Spaniards ; bi)t the dtiaens of the town and vicinhf 
refuse to obey the orders of the Spanish commandanr,. 
alleging that the President of the United States haft 
ing promised to protect themf in thefr liberty, proper- 
ty, and retigitii, they will be true and fiaithfid in their 
ailenance to the United States. 

We have also accounts from the Mobile direct, to 
the 7th JannAr^, Sit which time nothing eaftraordrnirr 
hud happened. Col. Gushingv wit^ the troops o« 
board the gun boats, anired at Mobile on the 9d, 
passsed the fort without interruption, and anchored 
above the town, where they lay on the 5ih, withoet 
having landed any of the troops. Imtfiedhatdy on the 
arrival of Col. Cnshing, thte militia wet« d^^battded. 
EXTREME SCARCITY OF FUEL. 

There is not, as we are informed at this time, a 
single cord of fire wood, for sale in the city or liter- 
ties of PKHldelphik. The llst'salis w^re niade at 20 
dolltrs acord. 

Supplies from the country will command good 
prices, and greatly contribute to the relief of the citl< 
^^hs. Pttm. your. 



Departed this life on the 4th ult. Mr^ EMMA 
CHURCH, relict of^Mr. Samuel Church of Phihidel- 
phia. Her renrtalhs w*Ve deposited in the'anciei\t ce- 
metery of the Swedes* Ghnreh, aside that of her fath- 
er, who was a native, and -many relatives wko we« 
among the first settlers, of this metropolis. Her er. 
emplary goodness makes the loss irreparable to hfr 
friends; and her piety ahd rfsignatioti, as shown pre- 
enoiinently conspituoniis, thro«gtKmt a km|f «Hn^a»e of 
pulmonary consumption, wiH ever render her naettory 
a pleasure and a pain : 

" Haec sunt jucundt causa, dbusqne maii.** 

But few years have elapsed since the prtHHitwe 

exit of her son Dr. John Church, who fell a vicnm 
to a contagious fever; he earfy irrtbibed the valuable 
pi^irepH of a tender and affecrionate mother, and was 
esteemed by all who knew hinu*— We hea^ da^ a^^ 
day, of those held most dear to toatoty departing 
from it: we hear it, 'tis true, but do we duly appreciate 
their viiiues by imitation ? pause ! ponder, ind reflect: 
•-« voice is heatd-i-how awful; how sobKme:*-^ Pre- 
pare !" " Comci inherit the kingdom of heaven ?*• O I 
angelick sound! it was the voice that awaked the pioui 
Emma — she's gone — hkr immortal spirit's fled — and 

** Joy breaks, shines, triumphs— -'tis BTEaKAX. -dk^T 

But reader : 

*< Knowest thou the importante of a Soul immortal} 
Behold the midnight glory— worlds on worlds! 
Amazing pomp ! redouble this amaze ! 
Ten thousand add, and twice ten thousand more ; 
Then weigh the whole^oiTE i{ovt.ouTtvEicbs tMmh 

all; 
And calls the astonishetl magnificence 
Of unintelligent creation, poor '* 
•» Why then their loss deplore tKat are nojt loiit! 
Why tiraaderB wretched thought their tombs aroimd T 

G. 



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•* Hom<y sum ; humani nihil a me alienUm puto.^^--^Man mid his cares to me at man^ are dear. 



VOL. L 



BURLINGTON, THIRD MONTH (MARCH) 11th, iBil. 



No, 33. 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XXXIL 

Lenl nam motut ab Austto 
Obraia yerba refert. 

^ Ovi.. 

•* At the least touch th« secret they reveal.* 

Dr. Beattie informs us, that one of the 
first pieces of instruction he gave his son, 
was to keep a secret. The importance of 
this knowledge is not so apparent at first 
sight, as after some consideration. Happv 
.however would it be for mankind in general, 
were it more frequendy insisted upon by 
parents, during the early years of their 
children. Instead however of inculcating 
into their minds the high importance of this 
duty ; instead of animating them to preserve 
-within their breasts, what has been reposed 
in them under thb expectation ; instead of 
punishing them for any deviation from this 
rnle^ the constant endeavour of parents ap- 
pears to be, to draw out by artifices or threats 
the unwiUing secret from their lips. They 
arc deputed as spies to w^ch o&ers. They 
are admired and applauded when they dis- 
play the retentive powers of their memory, 
or Uieir archness in relating with humour and 
effect, some lurfortunate speech which they 
have overheard. Children therefore, in- 
stead of being instructed to keep a secret, 
are so disciplined, alternately caressed and 
chastised — ^till they deem it rather a dutt^ 
than an impropriety to inform. At school, 
the same mode of teaching prevails , they 
are punished if they do not turn State's evi- 
dence, as it were, and betray the compan- 
ions of dieir froUcks ; and, upon their in- 
forming, they are exculpated from any chas- 
tisement. Thus when they come into the 
•worid, it requires a length of time before 
the long continued. and encouraged habits 
of childhood and youth, are entirely aban- 
doned. Few persons, who have been in any 
degree conversant with men in general, but ^ 
must deprecate die effects of such a habit. 
At least one* half of the quarrels and differ- 
ences between acqu^ntance ; half the breach- 
es between friends who had been united in 
the closest bands of union ; of families who 
possessed common interests and common 
feelings, may be attributed to this source;^ 
ii4iich like another Pandora's box has spread* 
mischief, and hatred, and desolation, over 
the world* There are many classes of ^ese 
tatders* I shall not even attempt to enu- 
merate the several kinds, much less to de- 
soribe their specifick differences; but content 
myself with making a few remarks upon the 
principal of diem. 

The first that occurs to me^ is composed 



of those who are strangers to you, And en- 
deavour to find out who you are, your bu- 
siness, &c, in order to raise their own im- 
portance by their subsequent relations.--r 
They are great frequenters of taverns, and 
will " jiester like a popinjay," I once knew 
a gentleman who was a rellow traveller with 
me in Europe, to whom I frequently com- 
plained of the disagreeableness of such per- 
sons ; and he informed me of a mode that he 
had successfully made use of to punish them. 
He would frequently give evasive answers 
to their interrogations, and by an assumed 
importance of manner, and grave counte- 
nance, excite ideas of his being a person of 
great consequence. He told me that by a 
litde of this kind of manoeuvering, he has 
obtained great gratification in witnessing 
their curiosity, their variously proposed 
questions, and even sometimes passed off for 
a very great personage. Three or four times 
he had been invited to great entertainments; 
and had several times the honour of a pub- 
lick dinner. However, he had once been 
involved in diflkulties, which had nearly 
taken away his power of ever again playing 

such freaks. Arriving one evening at , 

in — — , where he stopped for the night, he 
met with one of these inquirers whom he en- 
deavoured to mislead, and succeeded. The 
person whom he deceived however, con- 
ceiving him to be a suspicious character, ve- 
ry kindly reported to the chief magistrate of 
the place; and my friend was surprised as 
he was stepping into bed, by a file of sol- 
diers; by wnom he was conveyed to a prison 
as his lodging house. From this place he 
was with mudh difficulty relieved the follow- 
ing morning; but his papers and baggage 
were thoroughly searched to ascertain his 
real character. 

There is another description of tatders, 
who having succeeded in worming a secret 
out of you, consider themselves entided to 
make it as publick as they please. Their 
desire to convey their discoveries to others, 
sometimes leads them into mistakes; they 
are sometimes forced to make the story as 
they relate it; and without considering or 
regarding the boundaries beyond which 
there is no truth, out it goes, truth and false- 
hood in the same breath. It has frequently 
been said, that persons who habituate them- 
selves to tell their dreams, acquire a habit of 
filling up the interstices between disjointed 
and unconnected members, with their waking 
thoughts; of giving their pictures a higlier 
colouring than even fancy thought pri^ent 
to deck them with, and thus give their 
dreams a new complexion and appearance. 
In much the same manner I have known 
persons who have been accustomed to pry 



into the hearts of others, to dig out their se- 
crets, and to relate them, too prone to yield 
to the same temptation, and repeat things 
they never saw. Unless my observation is er- 
roneous, this will not unfrequently be found 
the case. Let those persons then, who con- 
sider it as their duty lo caution their chil- 
dren against repeating their dreams,^ advise 
them never to assert that others think, or 
purpose acting in ft particular manner, be-^ 
cause they conceive their actions to indicate 
such intentions. If a man contemplates per- 
forming any thing, and thinks proper to con- 
ceal it, the very fact of conceaitnent proves 
that it would be disagreeable to have it 
known: it is therefore ungenerous and base 
in the highest degree, for any one who by 
accident, inadvertence, or artifice, obtains 
the secret, to divulge it. Though he has 
not promised secrecy, the principles of ho- 
nour should constrain him to silence. But 
much more reprehensible is the conduct of 
those who frame the intentions, and attri- 
bute them to others. 

The next class is composed of those, who 
can never have a secret reposed in them, but 
they must immediately relieve their minds 
from the burden with which it is oppressed, 
by sharing it with another friend; some con- 
fident. Tell these persons a secret, they 
promise that their lips shall be silent upon 
the subject; no idea or insinuation of it 
shall ever escape their lips, and the war>^ 
circumsnect caution of Hamlet shall be fully 
observed; but the promise is scarcely made, 
ere it is broken. Off they run to their friend 
and whisper it in his ears. This friend has 
another in the same capacity, and thus your 
secret is confided tb half the town; but all 
among friends. From this kind of tatdmg, 
consequences of the most serious nature 
sometimes ensue. I have within my own 
sphere of observation, wimessed quarrels a- 
mong the dearest friendsr— duels— disgi-aces 
— and ruined reputations. 

I am just now reminded of another species 
of tale tellers, by an agreeable and most 
friendly of all friends, who is whispering in 
my ear somet'iing he heard said of me in 
company the last evening. He informs me, 
that Mr. ■ declared that he locked upon 
me as litde better than an old fool, always 
prosing and preaching to people who stood 

m no need of sermonizing. Miss said 

she did not believe that I acted up to the 
strictness which I demanded of others; but 
that it was all a cloak to hide my vices from 
the world. Now whether there be^iiy truth 
or no in these reports, is immaterial; in tlie 
present case I know there is none. The 
person who tells, who becomes inquisitot 
genersJ, and relates such things by the gross^ 



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ixiiL riuriAi-. vioiJLx:*xv- 



dozen, or as it may suit tho hearers, prosti- 
tutes the character of k friencl, and becomes 
a most deadly enemy. Unfortunately, sad 
experience has been the preceptor by whom 
I have beentauffht, that no regard can be 
justly paid to the word o4' him, who thus 
proves hirasrff void of every virtuous and 
JftonQurable feeling* 

W. 



aSLBCTED FOR THE EURAL VISITER. 

ADDRESS TO EVENING. 

Come, Ev'mng, once again, season of peace; 

Return, sweet Ev'nhig, and continue long ? 

Itethinki I see thee in the streaky west, 

With, matron step, slow moving, while the night 

Treads on thy sweeping ttain; one handeraploy'd 

In letting fall the curtain of repose 

On bird and beast, the other chargM for man. 

With sweet oblivion of the cares of day ; 

Not sumptuously adom'd, nor needing aid, . 

Like homely featured night, of clustering gems; 

A star or two, just twinkling on thy brow, 

Suffices thee ; saye, that the moon is thine 

No le&i thairnefs, nor worn indeed on high, 

With ostentatious pageantry, but set 

With modest grandeur, in thy purple zone. 

Resplendent less, but of an ampler round. 

Come then, and thou shalt find thy voi'ry calm, 

Or make him so. Composure is thy gift ; 

And, whether 1 devote thy gentle hours 

To books, to rausick, or the poet's toil ; 

To weaving nets for bird-alluring fruit ; 

Or twining silken threads round iv'ry reels, 

When they command, w^iom man was bom to please; 

I flight thee not, but make thee welcome still. 

Just when our drawing-rooms begin to bUze 
With lights, by clear reflection multiplied 
From many % mirror, in which he of Oath, 
Ooliah, might have seenhis.giant bulk 
Whole, without stooping, tow'ring crest and aM, 
My pleasures, too, begin. But me, perhaps, 
The glowing hearth may satisfy a while 
With faint illumination, that uplifts 
The shadow to thg ceiling, there by fits 
Dancing uncouthly to the quivering flame. 
Not undelightful is an hour to me 
So spent in parlour twilight : such a gloom 
Suits well the thoughtful, or unthinking noind; 
The mind contemplative, with some new theme 
Pregnant, or indisposed alike to all. 
Laugh ye, who boast your more mercurisJ pow*0i 
That never feci a stupor, know no pause. 
Nor need one : I am conscious, and confess, 
Fearless, a soul that does not always thitik. 
Me oft has fancy, ludicrous and wild, 
Sooth'd with a waking dream of houses, tow*rt» 
Trees, churches, and strange visages, ezpress'd 
In the red cinders, whUe with poring eye 
I gaz'd, myself creating what I saw. 
Nor less amus'd have I, quiescent, watch*d 
The sooty films that play upon the bars, 
Pendulous, and foreboding, m the view 
Of superstition, prophesying still, 
Though still deceived, some stranger's near approadi. 
'I'is thus the understanding takes repose. 
In indolent vacuity of thought. 
And sleeps and is refresh'd. Meantvhile the face 
Conceals the mood lethargick, with a mask 
Of deep deliberation, as the man 
Were task'd to bis full strength, absorbed and lost. 
Thos oft, reclined at e?ise, I lose an ho«r 
At ev'ning, till at length the freezing blast. 
That sweeps the bolted shutter, summons home 
The rccollected.pow'rsi and, snapping short 
The glassy threads, with which the fancy weaves 
•.Her britile toys, restores me to myself. 

How calm is my recess i and how the frost, 
- K aging abroad, and the rough wind, endear 
The silence and the warmth, enjoy'd within! 
I saw the woods and fields, at close of day, 
A variegated show ; the meadows green, 
. Though faded; and the lands, where lately wavM 
The golden harvest, of a mellow brown, 
Upturnd so lately by the forceful share. 
I saw f ai" o4" ^lie weedy f>Uovi«* imjAt 



With verdure, not unprofitable, graz'd 
By flocks, fast feeding, and selecting each 
His fav'rite herb ; tvhile all the leatiess groves. 
That skirt th* horizon, wore a sable hue, 
Scarce noticed, in the kindred dusk of eve. 
To-morrow brings a change, a total change ! " 
Which even now, though silently perform'd, 
And slowly, and by most unfelt, the face 
Of universal nature undergoes. 
Fast falls a fleecy show'r: the downy flakes, 
Descending, and with never-ceasing lapse, 
Softly alighting upon all below, 
Assimilate all objects. Earth receives, 
Oladly, the thick'ning mantle; and the gieen 
And tender blade, that fear'd the chilling fola^t. 
Escapes unhurt beneath so warm a veil. 



70A THS RURAL VISJTEB. 

HISTORY OF ALVIRA. 

A TALE OF TRUTH. 

CHAP. II. 

(Continued from p. 161.) 

If Theophilus endured great anxiety and 
pain in banishing from his thoughts his once 
much loved Alviraj she did not suffer less 
in finding that he was really offended, and 
had in fact determined never to seek her 
company ox^ conversation again. She at first 
made some efforts to regain his affection, 
and for sometime was not without hopes 
that he would return. But when she found 
he was gone, and probably gone forever, 
she became for some days inconsolable— 
was partially deranged, and talked incohe- 
rently — once fainted in her mother's arms, 
and when recovered, with a wild and anxi- 
ous look, she pronounced in a tremulous 
voice the name of Theophilus — .rolled up 
her eyes, rivetted them on the door, and 
with an unmeaning smile said " dear Theo- 
philus! is he coming again ?" 

Through the kindness of her indulgent 
parents, the attention of her lovely sisters, 
and the blessing of heaven upon their exer- 
tions, she was restored to a tolerable state 
of tranquillity; but had resolved, that if she 
must be disappointed in obtaining Theo- 
philus as her companion, she could not, and 
would not ever love another. When she 
had, with a peculiar emphasis, declared her 
resolution to the family, the mother frowned 
and called her a prude— the sisters wept, 
and said they had long feared it would come 
to this at last— the father looked grave, and 
with a deep sigh, said, " my darling child, 
you must learn from this occurrence, never 
to set too high a value on any thing here 
below; all on earth is a shadow-— all beyond 
is ever during substance: blind fate does not 
govern Ae affairs of men; a sparrow does 
not fall to the ground without the notice of 
God; this unhappy affair is under his con- 
trol; it is, I hope, as it comes from God, 
the prime mover, a fatherly chastisement, 
and will terminate in your spiritual and e- 
temal good* And besides, if Theophilus 
has gone from you, and gone forever, what 
can there be in that so ver)'^ afSictive ? Tho' 
he is a worthy, and I believe, a pious youth, 
are there not many otliers as worthy and pi- 
ous as he is ? Be composed, my dear child, 
you are yet young enough to marry, and o- 
ther suitors wiH offeri on some one of whom 



you may fix your affections, and be as hap^y 
as you would have been with him. Myste- 
rious are the ways of God^s providence, and 
he may, fcM* any thing we know to the con* 
trary, be now by this dispensation, preparing 
the way for my child's more honourable set- 
tlement in life. On the whole, it is botli 
our duty and our interest to comtil^it all to 
him, who with infinite ease sees the end from 
the beginning." 
" pear papa,** rejoined Alvifa, ** I have al- 
ways respected your counsel and commands; 
but pray sir, do not mention this latter cir- 
cumstance to me again; for I can never mar- 
ry any one but Theophilus: no, I shall al- 
ways love him. He first lighted the flame 
of love in my breast, and it would be impos- 
sible for me to place my affections on ano- 
ther: could I therefore give my haad and 
vows to any one without my heart? such an 
act I should consider as highly crimimd,^ > 
And you my dear papa, I very well know 
would by no means consent to my becoming 
the wife of that man for whom I conk! never 
feel an attachment. As the disappointm^it 
comes from God, I shall endeavour to ac- 
quiesce in silent submission to his tviB. — 
With him, whatever is, is right. The sub- 
lime principles of that holy religion, v^ich 
I have been taught by my Bible and jovl, I 
have no doubt, are to the truly pious a great 
support under special adverse providences; 
but I have no good reason to believe I am 
of that happy number; and therefore cannot 
draw from thence all that consolation ivhich 
God pours into the bosom of his redeemed 
ones when they are wading through the deep 
waters of affliction." " But," said the pious 
and affectionate father, wishing some wnj or 
other to comfort his afflicted daughter, *' al- 
though Theophilus is gone, it may be he is 
hot gone forever. I Jcnow him to be a maa 
of honour, and what is more, I believe htm 
to be a man of piety. Between you and 
him an explanation must be had— you have 
treated him unkindly, and must make some 
concessions: in which case, I have no doubt 
he will look over your past misconduct, and 
love you as truly as you do him.** These 
last words of the devout father were fek by 
Alvira, and had the same effect on her mind, 
as a gende opiate has on the patient, wfapse 
body was just now racked with internal pain. 
It was not long after the above conversation 
between Alvira and her father, that good 
Jacob paid the debt of nature. He experi- 
enced in his own person, the eflfect of that 
sentence, which was in the garden of Eden 
pronounced against Adam and all his poste- 
rity — ^^ dust thou art, and unto dust thou 
shalt return," and the execudon of which, 
has in near six thousand years carried many 
millions to that house which is appointed as 
the residence of all who are now living.— 
The disease by which the Almighty called 
him away from this world of sin and sorrow 
was short, but painful and agoniziog. He 
however, bore it with christian fortitude and 
resignation. In the midst of excruciating 
pain, BO murmur was allowed to escape from 
his lips. £very feature was composed, and 
his soul was as calm as the summer evening. 
** I have, said he, as his soul was quitting 



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THE KUKAJL viaiiJi^* 



• ,lark cottage, I have fought the good fight 
'^fS iSfnU about to finish my cours.: 
?f;S„ change, I have nothing to tear, but 
iii things hope for. God is my father, 
S sm'y Savio'ur, the Ho?y.^Ghost .s my 
^ \.»;f.er- aaitels and the spirits of the just 
S mf eWeTKen. I shall soon be um- 
SXe venerable company of patnarchs 
S^pSets, aposdes, and martyrs. J^^^^^ 
Ful. face and cniov the smiles of the^car 
ttiour 2tfyrle tasted death on Calva- 
!3nceCth'l know there i. a crown of 
ShtSusness laid up. for me m heaven^ 

Tbrtn^e JaS as S to gain . little 

fdcSi^;S«m turned his languishmg eyes 
ww^ds^e wife of W youth, the comr.au. 
• r^Tf W« old aee, and the mother of his 
Sren aSs^C" my ^^^ ^^ affectionate 
S Idi? bo^ the Father of aU merc.es 
Im according to his gracioi^ promise be 
rhidtomy^^ido^- The number of 
vouT years forbid you to expect that you 
Itouldlone stay behind me; with you I hope 
;S?ijc3meeting,'« that far betterworid^ 

wh^J^eath will never separate us from 
AoTwho are the objects of our mosten- 
SSoriov" Many are the instances of 
SSs you have sUn to "le m our pd- 
STge, W which you have my unfeiffied 
Sd hfity thanks-the Lord reward you, 
^ dSr^an hundred fold:'; his hps he 
Ssid W Srs, and bid her a last fareweU. 
^ISTeth^n turied to his. daughters who 
'stood by the bedside weeping; >-^'",\'^'^ 
?2«, id heard their heavy groai^s; .^i he 
Sr was full in his soul; for them h. pour- 
i forth his dying prayer; saying =Tiay Uie 
M^tv Shepherd, who has b..n nn_ God, 
W my father^ God; the angel of th.. ever- 
wiJS^ covenant, who has kept me aU my 
Ufe be a sanctuary, round about you; pre- 
«eJ;e vou a«d provide for you; renew your 
hS^P^ifyyournatures and at last bring 
SlweU with himself, in the haven of 

'"wS^is1?J;wereyetquiveringindeath, 

he wi just able to utter those exquisitely 

richand soul comforting Imes, m Dr. 

Watte' spiritual hymns : — 

•• ]e«os can make » dying bed 
- Feel »oft as downy pillows are ; 
While on his breast 1 lean my *>ead. 
And breathe my Ufe oot sweetly there. 

The last end of the good manisi>eace; 
peace with his God, his own conscience, 
Ld with all men. Blessed are the dead, 
. who die in the saving faith of the Lord.— 
Whoso is wise and will observe the work- 
mes of God's providence; even he snaU olt- 
eusee, that the righteous are taken away 
from the evil to come. 

("To be contimled.) 



»0» TBE ROaAL VISITB«. 

KDITH'S GRAVE. 

At Edith's grave, I sat me down. 
In nA soblimity of thought—' 

The wiwW disowning*— and disown d- 
A tear of angtiilh with it bronght. 



The faded joys, of youth's first stage, 

Flitted on Fancy's airy wing; 
And eaTe to raptnre's eager gaze, _ 

ThI op'nlng blossom of life's spnng. 
Ab ! wither'd blossoms-blown afar— 

O'er the drear waste of earth's doi«ft«n , 
Succeeded with incessant care, 

With sad vicissitude and pain. 
That spirit breathing from the tomb 

Of her who lately was so fair. 
Has shed abroad its baneftil gloom— 

And sjwead the darkness of despair. 

But God of light, and life, and love, ^ 
To Thee, my firmer hopes are giv n— 

Low bowing at thy throne above 
Anticipating aU thy heav'n. 
8mo.l809. ••"** ■ 

FO* THE BB»AI. VlStT*». 

itr. Editor, . 

Having, some timesince. «en5n TO"' P;;l^'^Xn) 
entitled " Smoking Spiritualized" (»'«J>**!""'"^hich 
llw send you fc, '■^'"VMrtArformeriy 
was written by the reverend Mr ErsKine, w ^ 
Minister of Duroferhne. * 

Was this small plant for thee cat dcrwttl 
So was the plant of great reno.wn, 
Which mercy sends. 
For nobler ends. 
Thus think, and smoke tobacco. 

Doth juice medicinal proceed 
Fr«jm such a naughty foreign weed! 

Then what's the pow r 

Of Jesse's flow't ! 
Thus think, and smoke tobacco. 



The promise, like the pipe, inlays 
And by the mouth t>f faith conveys 

What virtue ftows 

From Sharon's rose; 
Thus think, and smoke tobacco. 

In vainth' unlighted pipe you blow; 
Your pains in outward means are so, 

Till heav'nly fire 

Your heart mspires 
Thus think, and smoke tobacco. 

The smoke like burning incense tow'rs; 
So should a praying heart of yours 

With ardent cries 

Surmount the skies. 
Thus think, and smoke tobacco. 



TOR THE RURAL VISITER. 



I think it has been remaikcd by foreigners . 
who have visited our country, that zn inordi- 
nate desire for the accumulation of wealth, 
seems to pervade all ranks of citizens.. 1 his 
rif the remark be just) may perhaps be attn- 
buted to the mildness of our government, and 
to the many objects which a new country pre- 
sents for industry and enterprise. Be the 
caus'e however what it may, this spirit of mo- 
ney-getting seems somewhat inconsistent 
with another trait, which I think forms at 
least as prominent a feature in the character 
of our countrymen, as the former— I mean a 
desire for expensive finery. This rage tor 
RewEaws,seems to have spread with a rapidir 
tv perhaps unparalleled in the countries of 
Europe, from the populous coasts of the At- 
lanuc, to the solitary wilds of the^Wabash 
and Ohio, and probably forms one principal 
source of the wealth of m^iy a petty couij,- 
try merchant. . 

Stopping at a country store, »« a late ex- 
cursion in the western part of a neighbour- 



ing state, mv attention was arrested by the 
engaging appearance of a little country girl 
whoentlredilie doorfteatly dres85d in home- 
spun. Mid carrying a web of tow linen under 
her arm. She laid it upon the counter and 
asked the clerk what he would give tor it- 
Two shiUings, said he, after a slight exami- 
nation. It is a good piece, said the girl— 1 
think you may give two and two pence lor 
it. There was such a fascinating meekness 
and simplicity in her whole demeanour, as en- 
tirely abstracted mv attention from the otiier 
customers; and while she modestly but i«- 
eflFectuallyendeavour«sd to raise her little mar- 
keting to its just value, I could not but pity 
the industrious poor, who labour hard tor au 
honest and independent subsistence ; as well 
as inwardly execrate that sordid love ot gain, 
which unfeelingly denies them, the value ol 
their produce. The poor girl said but little 
in defence of her claim, but frequently re- 
peated " I think you might give more —and 
while the clerk wte busy in serving other 
customers, she leaned her elbow upon the 
counter, and fixed her eyes upon the shelves 
as if doubting whether to accept the price, or 
considering what she might be able to pur- 
chase in return. 

Mv sympathy immersed me m a revery 
upon the train of labour, for which she was 
now to receive a nominal equivalent.— Here, 
thouprht I, is the scanty earning of many a 
wean' hour. This poor girl and a sister or 
two, 'are perhaps supporting a helpless parent 
— for surely//Ja/fl/«f»on must beapnncmal 

, inmate in a heart, which can give so angelick 
I an air to the face it illuminate*— They have 
long anticipated the price of their web ; and 
comforted each other with the prospect ottlie 
conveniences it would procure. They have 
pulled the flax in the heat of summer, pursu- 
ed it with pious patience through the various 
processes of breaking, swingling, and hack- 
ling; and often has the hum of the wheel and 
the rattle of the loom, encroached upon tlie 
wmter night's repose — Now behold the con- 
summation of their toil ! Here I was 

roused from my reflections by the girl s ask- 
inR tUe price of some ribbons !— 1 was sur- 
prised and grieved— I eyed her in silence, 
till she had purchased to the amount of her 

linen— It was all in trifles! Oh, powerful 

example! Oh, baneful luxury ! Woiddthat 
mv countrvwomen knew how to appreciate 
the native beauty of health and tnnocenoe ! 



the native oeauiry ^« ..«-»- „,..,•.-...---- 
That my countrymeu would prefer indepen- 
dence to finery ! ^* 



Mr. Editor^ 

By givmg the foUowing a place in Th^^"':??^^^^^^'' 
you will confer a favour on A PATRON. 

^ WHiat course of conduct should a La- 
dy pursue toward a Gendeman, after having 
been for a length of time courted by him— 
her affections obtained— toarriage agreed on 

then neglected by him without any cause 

on her part,or reasons being assigned by him? 

A. You propose an irreconcilable position: 
It is impossible that a Gentleman could thus 

tr*-.at a Lady. ^ • r .• • t 

^. I am 8orn% when for mtormation, i 

propose » question for you to 5oive, tiiat yn\ 



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int. KUHAJL. VJLOIliiJ\. 



should be so incredulous as to treat it with 
apparent acrimony, by saying it is irreconcil- 
able i I tell you it is a truth! a Lady has been 
thus treated ! 

A. I doubt not but a Lady may have been 
thus treated, but not by a Gentleinan; for, as 
I said before, no Gentleman could thus treat 
a Lady; and no man could thus treat a Lady, 
save one that j)os3essed arrogance and osten- 
tation; twin brothers^ that never yet found an 
asylum in any Gentleman's breast, or were 
ever possessed by a liberal mind : it is char- 
acteristick of a Gendeman, to have, learning 
and virtue; and they invariably tend to adorn 
and enrich the faculties of his soul; destitute 
of these essentials, he is but a grade above a 
beast: view man thenjn the latter character, 
and can a Lady expect from such a creature, 
any thing but dissimulation, distrust, morose- 
ness, peevishness, insensibility, and a viola- 
tion of the most sacred promises ! 

If by the address of such a man^ an ascen- 
dency over the affections of a Lady has been 
gained, she ought ever to celebrate the anni- 
versary of the day, as a JvhUee^ for having 
been so fortunate, as to have escaped the 
dutches of such a monster in humaa^hape ! ! 



We intend introducing occasionally for 
the perusal of our readers, a series of essays 
selected from a work entitled " Athenian 
Letters: or epistolary correspondence of 
an agent of the king of Persia, residing at 
Athens during the Peloponnesian war. ' — 
These letters were written by some of the 
fii-st literary characters in England^ and 
were intended to present a correct sketch 
of the customs, manners, and bicfgraphy of 
the Athenians. The idea was taken from 
the work of the Abbe Barthelemi, entitled, 
** The travels of the younger Anacharsis,** 

£DIT0RB« 

ATHENIAN LETTERS. 

. NO. I. 

Cteander to H) daspes, first chamberlain to the king 
of Persia. 

It has proved the most disagreeable cir- ' 
cumstance of my employment, that I have not 
yet been able to write to my friends; who, I 
hope, do not imagine, that because I have re- 
sided ^ few months at Athens, I have quite 
forgotten the relation I bear to Persia; or 
that because I am engaged in the offices of a 
political life, I therefore intend to disregard 
those of the social. To deal frankly with 
you, though you are a courtier, I thought it 
my duty to prefer business of a publick na- 
ture, to amusements of a private one; and to 
make my employment sit easy upon me by a 
litUe practice, before I turned my thoughts 
another way. And besides, I was not in- 
clined to send imperfect accounts of a na- 
tion, whilst I was a stranger to it; such a 
proceeding woidd have been disingenuous 
^d ridiculous. The first question you 
would probably have me resolve, is, what 
peculiar difference I find in the manners of 
fijreece and Peraa; eiACe custom has placed 



as many marks of distinction in the civil 
manners of every nation, as Providence has 
displayed in the natural bodies of each indi- 
vidual. I will tell you, then, a Persian would 
find nothing more surprising^ tjian the un- 
bounded freedom of action and conversation 
which reigns here. The counsels of the 
great king are impenetrahl' ; we discover 
nothing of them till they take efRct; wliilst 
here every measure is known long before it 
is put hfi execution, and canvassed with as 
mujch liberty in common conversation, as in 
the assemblies of the people. We approach 
our mighty monarch with postures of ado- 
ration, and address him in language which 
is used to the Deity. At Athens the ma- 
gistrates are distinguished more by being 
virulendy abused, than by any mark of au- 
thority. Pericles, the chief magistrate, is 
sure to be the object aimed at by tvery one, 
who writes either scandalous libels to be dis- 
persed about the icity, or performances de- 
signed for publick tepresentation. The ac- 
tors themselves sometimes appear upon the 
stage in masks, which are made exacdy to 
resemble the face of the person ridiculed.— 
The Persian magnificence appears most at 
their entertainments; the Athenian, at their 
solemn festivals. The Asiatic feasts are re- 
markable for the vast quantities of provi*- 
sions, the cosdiness of the preparations, and 
the sumptuous furniture: the chief recommen- 
dation of a Greek one is, the elegance and 
variety of the conversation; which induced 
an Athenian to mak£ this observation:— 
^* Our entertainments not only please when 
we give them, but the day after." The 
Asiatic taste and grandeur appear in the pa- 
laces of their princes and satraps; the Gre- 
cian in the temples of their gode, and the 
publick buildings.^ Not a nobleman in Per* 
sia but shows his rank by the richness of his 
dress, and the number of his attendants ; 
whereas here you cannot distinguish a citi- 
zen firom a slave by bis habit; and the weal- 
thiest Athenian, the most considerable per- 
son in the city, is not ashamed to go to mar- 
ket himself. In Persia the eyes of all are 
turned towards the sovereign, and they re- 
gulate their conduct by his. In the free re- 
publicks of Greece the people are king, and 
resemble other monarchs in their bad quali- 
ties more tlian in their good ones; for they 
are fickle and imperious, severe and obsti- 
nate. I have in this letter just sketched the 
great oudines which mark the difference of 
manners between Greece and Asia: I may 
perhaps give the picture a few more touches, 
if it appears that what I have already per- 
formed has afforded entertainment. I de- 
sire you will not fail to send me the chit- 
chat of the court, and the news stirring in 
the centre of the empire. Consider, to a 
num employed abroad, the most trifling oc- 
currences, which turn his thoughts to his 
country and friends, are interesting. I wish 
you length of days in the post you at present 
possess, since you have gained the ear of 
your sovereign without flattery, and can a- 
muse him, without listening for materials to 
the idle stories of slanderers aud tale-bear- 
Farewell. 



ers. 



From Athens. 



THE MANSION OF I^ST. 

The following lines were written by a BritUh Statca^ 
man of celebrity; soppoted to be the late Hooowiki^ 
. Charles J. Fox. 

I talk*d to my flattering bean, 

And chid its wild wandering ^%y%l 
I charg'd it fronn folly to part, 

And to husband the rest of its da|<', 
I bade it no longer adnnire 

The ipeteoTS that Fancy had dreat; 
I whisper'd, 'twas time to retire. 

And seek for a mansiov of asbt. 

A CVamner was listening the while. 

Who caught wp the tone of my layf 
•* O come, then," she cried with a smile, 

♦ Anu ril shew yon the place and the wtfy;** 
1 ^oUou'td the witch to her home. 

And vowed to be always her guesti 
«• Never more,** 1 exclainrd ** will I roam 

In search of the namsiom of rest.** 

B ut the sweetest of moments will fly; 

Not long was my fancy beguil'd. 
For too soon I ^nfessed with a sigh. 

That the Syren dcceiv'd while she tmil'd. 
Deep, deep, did she stab the repose 

Of my trusty and unwary breast^ 
And the door of each avenue dose. 

That led to the mahsiok of kbst. 

Then friendship entic'd me to rtray. 

Through the long magick wilds of romance, 
But I found that she meant to betn^. 

And shrunk from the Sorcerer's glsince. 
For experience has taught me to know, 

That the soul that reclin*don her breast. 
Might toss on the billows of woe, 

And ne'er find the mansion of jelb^t. 

Pleasure*s path 1 determined to try^ 

But Prudence 1 met in the way, 
.Conviction flash'd light from her eye,. 

And appeared to illumine my day; 
She cried as she shew'd me a grave. 

With nettles and wild flowers dress'd. 
O'er which the dark cypress did wave. 

•' BehoUl there the mansion of i^est.** 

She spoke, and half vanished in air^ 

She saw mild religion appear* 
With a smile that would banish despair. 

And dry up the penitent tear; 
Doubts and fears from my bosom were driyen«. 

As pressing the cross to her bfeast» 
And pointing serenely to Heaven, 

She shewM the true mansion or best. 



FOR THE EURAt VISITER* 

How swiftly rolls the wheel of time ! 
Silent, and unperceiv'd, it steah away 
The moments lent us for a poipose great*— 
Our year«, and months, and 4ft}'a» «re swaltov^ wft 
And no entreaty can bring back the hour^ 
That are past by-^Forever gone 
The precious s|»ce they gave. 
To till the vi^ that^ planted in the heart ; 
To take away the noxious weeds 
That twine around and nip the bud- 
Weeds that flowed to grow, prevent th* ikmttt 
From flourishing in the warm beam 
Of rays divine; which beii^ reared* 
Fit to transplant in gardens ftiir 
Where genial suns and heavenly devn 
Ne*er£ail t there will it bloom through ages 
Ever new— throughout eternity's enduring rearm. 

—How wise then would it be 
Duly to appreciate the grand design 
Of kmdness infinite, in placing man 
On this unceasing whkri, Creation's wheeli— 
How noble are the gi lis on him bestow'd. 
If qualified by grace; his faculties 
How great! how capable to perform 
Deeds that will render glory to his God, 
^ To overcome the evil which the^// 
On the whole race of man, imp<j5ed'*«- 
And by a life of dedication to Sit will* 
Become prepared hereafter to inherit 
The unalloyed fruition tjf the Just, <l, S. 



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THE RURAL VIS^ITEtt. 



' .m.# 



rOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

TO MISS 

Friday. Fcbrutry 2, 1811. 

I latelV) my <lear cousin, gave you an ac- 
lount of a dinner party ut Mrs. Graham^s ; 
ibllowingp morning Mr. Levis called and 
iroduced his sister to me ; not much pre- 
ssessed in favour of the family, I saw her 
n no favourable light — she is a pretty giri, 
presses in the extreme of the fashion, frowns 
pn the ladies, smiles on the gentlemen, quar- 
rels with the belles, and flirts witli the beaux 
—She complained most bitterly that, the 
lireather was such, that a person could not 
!wallc out without having her face purpkd 
With the cold; which drew our attention to 
her looks— observed that ladies living in the 
country, gained stick \igour, and strength, 
that they could defy the wmtry blast ; which 
{{called our notice to the extreme delicacy of 
JAer form — mentioned the fatigues a fashion- 
table woman must undergo in receiving and 
tVetuming visits ; and the great attention that 
must be paid to dress in the city ; which let 
r us know she was th^ ton^ and fixed our eyes 
on as beautiful a dress as I ever saw — enu- 
merated a dozen parties, at w^hich she hoped 
we should meet, begged she might see me at 
her own house, and departed just as Mrs. G. 
entered: who, as soon as she was seated, 
turning to me, began in her usual lively man- 
ner : " Levis, and his sistet, are, I see, vi- 
siters of yours ; I find you were, till yester- 
day, unacquainted with either of them, and 
his conduct then, did not show him to advan- 
tage; and therefore, my dear Miss Drayton, 
though almost as much a stranger to you, yet 
in friendship to you both, I must give you a 
little of his history and character. Levis is 
i strange compound— -Nature, I believe, gave 
him not very inferiour talents, but taken in 
childhood by a batchelor uncle, who found in 
his own case, that much learning was not ne- 
cessary to acquire a fortune, and who it 
seems was never a favourite with the ladies, 
and report says, has been jilted by them ;— 
has therefore taken the utmost pains to instil 
into his poor nephew, a dislike to, and con- 
contempt for, us fenoales. He has been told 
that all women are sally, and fitir game to 
sport with; and therefore as his sole end is 
present enjoynient, notwithstanding his ha- 
tred to us, he seeks our society in preference 
to that of the gentlemen ; thus poor Levis 
liaving * sworn enmity' to women in compli- 
ment to his uncle, whose heir he is to be, 
thinks he is also in duty botmd to make a fool 
of himself. And now since he is a Hanni- 
bal, (I do not mean in abilities) "you may be 
a Scipio, and carry on the war with him in 
defence of your sex, widiout «ny infringe- 
ment of female propriety, and you will find 
^any wlio v/ill gladly flock to your standard; 
and remember that toutes lea ruses de guerre 
are allowable, even such as playing with the 
foolscap yourself, till you can place it on his 
h^ad to advantage." O excuse me, madam, 
-said I, I cannot undertake a general part, but 
must reserve all my forces for a personrd at- 
tack. " That, my dear, you need no longer 
dread, for Levis has discernment enough to 



see that would be very impolitick: besides he 
really has not a bad heart, and independendy 
of too high an opimon of himself and a few 
other peculiarities, may be called a good crea- 
ture; indeed I have his reformation at heart, 
and have myself brandished the sword till I 
could resign it into more able hands ; for I 
could not, as he is my cousin, bear that he 
should sink into contempt, which would be 
the inevitable consequence of no one's enga* 
ging with him, and be designated as * that 
insignificant being, a relation of Mrs. Gra- 
ham.' As for Maria Levis, Listpidity 
rocked her cradle. Envy presided at her edu- 
cation, and Folhf introduced her into compa- 
ny, as complete a coquette as the materials of 
her composition will admit. And now, good 
morning; and do not from what you have 
heard roe say, imagine that I am an ill matur- 
ed satirist." I am, indeed, much inclined 
to be pleased with Mrs. Graham, for I find 
her extremely entertaining, and Mr. A. says 
she never suffers her wit to get the better of 
litr candour. 

Last night I was, for the first time, at the 
assembly; a brilliant scene, indeed, for it was 
a fashionable night, and " Every body was 
there." After dancing for some time, Mrs. 
A. and I became lookers on, and Mr. Levis 
took his stand by us. "Mr. Levis, do you 
know who that is dancing with Mr. G.?" said 
Mrs. A. " Yes, Ma'm, 'tis Mrs. M. a lady 
whom I've had the honour of knowing for 
some years, and who is a true picture of the 
sex — for a year or two she lived to her heart's 
content, surrounded by admirers, for she was 
very pretty — ^resisting all temptations to 
change her situation, glorying in her con- 
quests, and occupying her time entirely with 
novels, dress, and company. — About two 
years ago her father retired to the country; 
finding that she must there * wander unseen,' 
and tlMit the admiration which had been her 
only enjoyment was a city ware^ she thought 
it best to accept the addresses of Mr. M. and 
return to die city, if not as a belle, as a bride; 
and be once more in the w^rW." " And is 
this your picture of the sex?" " Yes," replied 
Levis, **it is the true character of woman; I 
always gave Mrs. M. credit for living up to it 
so well, and hope she wiU not now depart from 
it ; but either be a diligent housewife, never 
looking beyond her domestick arrangements, 
sittuig at the head of her husband's table, and 
never opening her lips but to say * Will you 
have a niece of this;' * Do let me help you to 
some of that;' Or else thinking that with the 
title of Mrs* she gained unbounded liberty; 
dash into the dissipated world, and in a few 
years make her husband a complete bank-^ 
nipt." " Indeed, Mr. Levis," said I, "you 
have adopted an unjust opinion of us which 
you must give up." " It is so well grounded, 
and I see such daily proofs of its correctness, 
that though now and thea I see one who 
widely wanders from the mark, nothing can 
convince me that my opinion is erroneous"— 
Mr. C. just then approached—" I am very 
glad" said I " you have come to my assist- 
ance, for I am trying to persuade this Goth 
that woman's ruling passion is not love of ad- 
miration; that she possesses a mind capable . 
of improvement^ and a heart thut can fed l^d ' 



grieve for any sorrow she may occasion; and 
when she gives up her liberty and becomes « 
wife, it is with the vn^Yi of being a compan* 
ion, and not with the design of giving more 
latitude to her pleasures, or to be a mere piece 
of hoo^hold furniture." " Dignify him not 
Miss Drayton, even with the tide of Goth, 
of which he is unworthy; for it was a pecu- 
liar characteristick of the Barbarian nations, 
that they were attentive and respectful to wo- 
men; regarded their wives as friends and 
faithful counsellors, and supposed that fre- 
quently, through their means, the will of the 
Gods was made known; and thence, no doubt, 
we modems, so readily and universally ac- 
knowledge the female right to the tide of 
Goddess !" " In former times," said Mrs* 
G. who had joined our group, " piety ^ as well 
m courtesy^ was requisite to form a gallant 
knight; and, if I mistake not, I just heard Mr. 
C. though not for the first time, sport and 
maintain sentiments not unworthy- the * Age 
of Reason;' and were I in "Miss Drajton's 
place, I would not allow him to take utr the 
gaundet in defence of the fair, till he abjured 
those pernicious sentiments which obscure so 
many virtues." " A knight" said Mr. C. 
" when vowing fealty to his mistress, profes- 
sed reverence to his God; and when a fair 
lady receives my love, she will have it in her 

power to form me what she will." 1 was 

not pleased with Mr. C's conversation, and 
as he handed me to supper, which was just 
then atmounced, I thought he had never ap- 
peared so little pleasing; though he has some- 
times expressed sentiments I did not think 
altogether correct, yet never before any that 
so litde accorded with my ideas. And now, 
dear Mary, fear not that " Cupid will level 
an arrow at me;" for though the brilliant ta- 
lents of Mn C. may dazzle the fancy, his 
many virtues please the heart, yet with prin- 
ciples only morale he can never endanger the 
reaaoiii or be the choice of your 

JENNY. 

Friend Editor, 

As 1 was sitting at my writing desk, 
meditating on the uncertainty of life and 
fortune, the following effusion spontaneous- 
ly issued from my pen; whether it merits a 
place in the Rural Visiter, thou wilt be best 
able to determine, and with thy de4pi8ion the 
writer willbe perfectly satisfied. 

ROLAND. 

Presumptuous man, thus on thine own 
security to presume! • dost thou not know 
that thy Creatoi>-*God, has so ordained the 
laws of nature, that in one moment from 
this earth thou mayst be snatched ? hast thou 
not seen the vivid lightnings fly, hast thou 
not heard the distant Uiunder roar, hast thou 
not felt the awful earthquake jar, and heard 
its solemn threatening sound ? hast thou not 
learned that God requires, that man shall 
ever be upon the w^ch, shall ever be pre- 
pared to go? hast thou hot witnessed many 
a sudden change, from ^prospects fair, and 
expectation strong, of worldly bliss, and all 
the gaiety of earthly joy, to poverty and 
wretchedness, or the more awful change of 
death? dost thou not realize, that thou too 



Bhi J., 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



ai t liable, and ere another sun arise, mayst 
be arraigned, ma>'st be required to render 
unto God an undisguised account of all thy 
dealings here below? and wilt thou still go 
on, and wilt thou still defy Omnipotence, 
and dare his utmost vengeance? Wilt thou 
still follow the dictates of thy disordered 
fancy, and indulge in gratifications which 
thou knowest to be criminal f Oh that I had 
the power of persuasion, that I coiJd pre- 
vail on men to turn from the darkness of the 
paths of sin in which tlicir feet are treading, 
and to walk in the glorious paths of light, 
which lead to peace in time, and happmess 
in^pressible forevermore. 



PLEASURE OF PAYING DEBTS. 

What a pleasure it is to pay one's debts ! 
It seems to flow from a combination of cir- 
cumstances, each of which is productive of 
pleasure. In the first place it removes the 
uneasiness which a true spirit feels frptn de- 
pendence and obligation. It afiefds plea- 
sure to the creditor, and thereby gratifies our 
most social affections: promotes that future 
confidence which is so interesting to an ho- 
nest mind; and opens a prospect of being rea- 
dily supplied with what we want on ftiture 
occasions. It leaves a consciousness of our 
own virtue, and is a measure which we know 
to be right, both in point of justice and 
sound policy. Finally, it is the main sup- 
port of reputation. 



We present the following to our readers as a specimen • 
of the sublime that is not often exctlled. 

THE WIDOW. 

Cold was the night, and dnftingfest the snow fell, 
Wi^e were the downs, and shelterless and naked, 
When a poor wand*rer struggled on her journey, 
Weary and way sore. 

Drear were the downs, more drear were h^ reflec- 

tionst 
Cold was the night winds, colder was her bosom ! 
She had no home, the worid was all before her. 
She had no shelter. 

Far o'er the bleak heath rattling drove a chariot, 
•'Pity me!" feebly cried the poor night wand'rer, 
"Pity me, strangers ! lest whh cold and hunger 
«* Here I should perish. 

••Once I had friends....bot they have all forsook me J 
Once I hadparents.^.they arc now in heaven! 
1 had a home once.. ..I had once a husband.... 
"Pity me, strangers! 

'*i had a home once...,I had once a husband^.. 
I am a widow, poor and broken hearted!" 
Loud blewihe winds, unheard was her complaiiung. 
On drove the chariot. 

On the cold snows she laid her down to rest her; 
h\\e heard a horsenun, *'Pity me !" she groan *d out ; 
Loud was the wind unheard was her complaining. 
On went theliorseman. ' 

Worn out with anguish, toil and cold and hunger, 
Down sunk the wand*rer, sleep had seized her senses; 
There did the trav*Ier find her in the morning, 
God had released her 

SOUTHEY. 



TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

We last week acknowledged the receipt of Fne Se- 

nex: but, upon a perusal, think it would be improper, 

for several reasons, to publish it; although we have tto 

dottbtof the good intCAtions of t|ie auhor in writing 

. it. 



We suppress Tt essay, lest it should be termed Sec- 
tarian. Patty^XT^A Alfred are received. . 

On a late application to one of the faculty, to fw'J^sn 
us with a prescription for a Poet who was deserted by 
his Muse— he ^ve the following as an infallible core: 
— •* When the Moon is in conjunction with her friend, 
the Sun, persuade aU the Poets to stand on their heads; 
asshe will then by his kind assistance, attract all the 
crude vapours that ha\-e rendered their brains turgid, up 
to their feel, and their eyes 

— « in fine freniPy roUing, 

May glance from earth to heaven." 



EPHEMERIS. 



Mabch. 




fSun rises. 


Son sets. 


H. Water 
Burling. 


2d week. 


D. M. 


j H. M. 


H. M. 


1st day. 


10 


6 14 


5 46 


3 8 


2d day, 


11 


6 12 


5 48 


3 52 


Sdday, 


13 


6 11 


5 49 


4 36 


4th day. 


13 


6 10 


5 50 


5 21 


5th day, 


U 


6 9 


5 51 


6 8 


6th dar, 


15 


6 8 


5 52 


6 57 


7th day, 


16 


6 6 


5 53 


1 7 49 



INTELLIGENCJ^, 



IIOMBSTICK. 

Letters from Washington state that the non-inter- 
course bill passed the house of representatives at about 
5 o'clock on the 31st ultimo, after a very boisterous 
night session. 

Mr^ Randolph was so severe in his remarks upon 
the conduct of some of the ministerial members as to 
occasion a challenge from Mr. Eppes, which has been 
accepted. They were to meet the next morning. 

FROM SOUTH AMERICA. 

Papers from Buenos Ayres to the 17th of Novem- 
ber, state that the people of that place and vicinity 
have embarked on the ** tempestuous sea of liberty," 
but are resisted by the inhabitants of Monte Video, and 
many places in the interiour. The revolutionary spirit 
has shewn itself in most of the Spanish Colonies.— 
Lima is in fermentation, and the Viceroy is full of fear. 
Santa Fe, Caraccas, Carthagena, Porto Bello, and 
Quito, have followed the ex.imple of Buenos Ayres. 

At the Presidents's House, amidst the display of 
beauty v^nd/aibion, on Wednesday evening, and at the 
Union Ball in Georg^to^n, on the Anniversary of 
Washington's birth, cake was presented of an unusual 
excellence. Its beautiful whiteness attracted attention. 
The taste was found to be equally delicate — the fine- 
ness of the flour was admired. Where was it made ? 
Who made it? Where can it be had? were the inqui- 
ries. It appeared that the flour had been made with- 
outgrinding the wheat, but that a chemical process had 
separated the flour from the spirit in the grain. By 
this process the result of attentive investigation and 
scientifick experiment, it is found that thirty pounds of 
flour, far exceeding in whiteness and delicacy the best 
gpround flour, and two gallons of fine spirit can be ob. 
tained from one buiiiel of good wheat. This mode of 
, separating; from the bran both the flour and the spirit, 
in its flaest and purest form, has been so recently dis- 
covered, that it has not been possible for it to be in 
general use. From this flour can be {nvpared a beau- 
tiful starch, clear and elastick. But the Importance of 
such a discovery to the agricultural interest, and the 
commercial advantage of flour freed from the ferment- 
ing principle, and therefore continuing good without 
acidity or mould in the warmest climates and during 
the longest voyages, can be instantly appreciated to the 
reflecting and judicious. The Inventor is a gentleman 
of New-Jersey. 

More Stquestration.'^A Frenchman (flays the New- 
York Evening Post) being arraigned at the Sessions, 
for stealin;^ three bags of coffee, from on board a ves- 
sel in the East Riva^, was asked by the clerk of the 
court, if he was *• guilty or not guiltyr" Pretending, 
however, not to understand the terms, the clerk asked 
hi:n, in plainer English, if he did-steal the coffee? To 
which h€ immediately replied, *' Noj Sare, ine only 
sequettare de coffee.*^ 

Cnal Mines, continue to be discovered and worked ip 
various j>iirts of the United States. — This is of the 
more importance, as wood is becoming txery year scar- 
cer and dtfarer in the neighbourhood of cur large cities 
and towns — and were it not for these sub*-erra«icaa re- 



sources, a serious deficiency of fuel must be genera**! 
felt in a few years. The neglect of Farmeri to plart 
their vacant fields with some thrifty trees to supp'J 
the consumption and destruction which their for^^ 
experience, is, notwithstanding, unwise as it concCTJji| 
their own interest and culpable as it regards the poo- 
lick comfort and convenience. 

We are informed, that Jacob Oddl, of Durham* irt 
this state, has obtained a Patent for an Ironing B#a* 
chine, which will in half an hour, (attended and work 
ed by one person only,) iron as mat>y clothes as twa 
women do in a day, and the process is without fire or 
heat. The publick will be shortly benefitted by thb^-a-V 
luable machine. JJover, (N, H>) Sw^ 



We have received a long communication from eer, 
intelligent correspondent in Cadiz, on the general state 
of the affairs of the peninsula; and a pardcolar <te- 
scription of the proceedings of the Cortes (Congre&s) 
in session near that city. 

The prospects of the patriot cause were ftr from 
being gloomy. The Cortca possessed great self-confi- 
dence, and they appeared to unite all hearts. Their > 
proceedings were founded on constitutiomd priodplcv 
which have been recognised in Spain firom time imme- 
morial. They have elected Ferdmand Tth as t^|eir 
king^ut have restrained him from marrying, with- 
out the consent of the nation, in Cortes. Bigoci-y and 
superstition are rapidly disappearing; the clet^gy arc 
daily becoming laymen ; and many of those remain- 
ing are among the first to incidcate the truth, that 
reedom, piety and morality, arc correlative. The 
freedom or the press, as it regards political topicks, ia 
firmly estabfished. It has not yet been deefned expe- 
dient to extend its freedom to religious, stibjects ; but 
the friends of freedom ought to feel grateful for the 
measure as far as it goes. Political liberty is the sore 
foundation of religious toleration; and the speculations, 
and the generous emotions, which a free press in be- 
half of publick freedom, will necessarily call into action, 
must eventually lead to the dispensation of rel^otu 
light, and the consolidation of the rights of mankind. 

Bott. Cent. 
Sweden had declared war against England, and or- 
dered all c<donia] produce to be seqiiestered which had 
entered her territories since the 24ih of April last.— 
Sequestration and confiscation may now be considered 
as the only terms, A pacification was expected to take 
place, speedily, between Russia and Turkey— A RuS' 
sian ambassador had arrived at the Russian head quar- 
ters, it was supposed, for the purpose of negotiating. 

A new optical instrument has been invented by a 
Member of the Parisian Conservatory of Arts, wbick 
enables every draftsman, without knowing the ndes of 
perspective* to design, with ease and ccnrrectnese, all 
kinds of subjeas, on every scale, not exceeding fivf di^ 
ameters square. 

Extraordinary Meteor. -^On the 19th of September, 
between the hours of 5 and 6 in the evening, a lumi- 
nous meteor appeared to the south, and about the 
distance of a quarter of a league from the small cona- 
mune of Brezeau on the Meuse ; persons who atteo- 
tively examined it, assert that it was nearly aqoarter 
if an hour in collecting, floating over the place where 
it was first seen, and that when all its |)arts had uni- 
ted, it appeared all at once as a considerable globe of 
fire; taking a northerly direction, it spread terrour 
amongst the inhabitants of the village, who believed 
their bouses would be burnt, and they themselves pe- 
rish. This globe was accompanied by a frightful 
noise which was heard at the distance of more tfian'a 
league and a half, and sometimes leserobled the roar- 
Sfig of a rapid chariot ; at others, the noise of rain 
violently agitated by the wind. It was followed by 
a very thick fog, and carried up from the groimd eve- 
ry thing it met in its passage. In crossing a river it 
absorbed water which afterwards 'soon fell in fain. — 
It wandered for some time ilear the village. One thing 
is certain, that the roof of a house was thrown down, 
which is the only trace it has left. It was accompa- 
nied and followed by an abundant rain, much light- 
ning, and loud claps of thunder. Continuing in the 
same direction, it suddenly tunted into a c^m^ of 
fire, which with the fog, rose towards the heavens.^-.- 
This made many persons believe the fog was smoke, 
remained about a quarter of an hour in this state, and 
quarter of a leagiie to the north of the village, and a 
short distance from the forest of Beavleao. TNtt co- 
lumn now sunk a little, and at last it suddenly dbop- 
peared, leaving a tMck fog which had no imcll.— 
This phenomenon fasted three quarters of aa luHir« 
and travelled over the space of half a league^ 



ninitbP HhvOoOaf.£. 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



" Homo sum; humani juhUame aliermm putoJ^^-^Mm and /us cares to me a man, are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, THIRD MONTH (MARCH) 18th, 1811. 



No* 34. 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XXXIIL 

Behold the foremost band of slender ^thougbt, 
In Bombers boundless as the blooms of spring ; , 
Behold their glaring idols, empty shades 
By fancy gilded o'er, and then set up 
For adoration: some in learning's garb. 

Akbksxsb. 

There is a general propensitj'^ among men, 
which inclines them to venerate and admire 
mental excellence j which induces them to 
accommodate their sentiments and opinions, 
to those of the persons, whose superiority in 
understanding is generally acknowledged, in 
the circle to which tl^ey belong. They who, 
have attained this elevation, are viewed by 
those who surround them, with reverence 
and respect^ their precepts are received with 
humble submission, and are regarded as of 
equal authority widi the dictates of an inspir- 
ed oracle. Reason is the most exalted, and 
the distingiushing characteristick of human 
nature; and they who possess any unusual 
portion of it, appear to ccmfer an honour upijn 
their fello# men. We appear raised in the 
scale of beings, by their sj4;)eriority, and some 
partof tfie lustre which beams on t^em, seems 
reflected upon us. A deference to them in- 
flicts no outrage upon our feelings, some* 
times so tenderly alive to a sense of our own 
inferiority; and it is more especially agreeable 
to Aose, who are desirous of yielding to their 
indolence of disposition. It requires no 
strength or acuteness of understanding, no 
severe Is^oiir, no fixed attention, no intricate 
researches intp science, to qualify a man for 
receiving implicitly, and admiring indiscrim- 
inately, ^e opinions and sayings of others. 
They console themselves likewise with the 
reflection that they are in the situation of 
debtors, and consider it as incumbent up- 
on them to satisfy just claims, with cheerful 
alacrity; they are conscious of their inferiori- 
ty ,and cling for support to the objects of their 
admiration, like the ivy to the oak. 

Men who are elevated above the ordinary 
level of mankind by we^th or power, derive 
from this superiority, naturally, no just claim 
to our respect. External markk of attention 
they will ever receive, whilst they retain their 
influence ; but he whose situation renders a 
dependance upon them necessary; and who 
is conscious of possessing^ superiour in- 
tellectual endowments, wears his chains with 
DO outward demonstrations of satisfaction. 
A man must depend upon his inherent pow* 
ers of mind,^suded by generom and com- 
manding virtues, to preserve a lasting and a 
willingauthority, over the inclinations of oth- 
ers. Extraneous qualifications, suph as in? 
fiuence and wealth, depend so much upon 



fortuitous and accidental circumstances; they 
so frequently belong to men,whose ignorance 
we despise, or %vhose principles we detest; 
and are derived from sources that do not ne» 
cessarily imply superiority, and possess so 
smaUa share of intrinsick merit, that they are 
considered as of themselves unworthy of 
praise, and undeserving of approbation. Wis- 
dom, however, can be acquired only by those 
whose natural abilities have been cherished 
and improved, by study or observation. It 
is a plant of slow growtn; but under its shade 
we love to recline. Hence it is, that they who 
have attained any uncommon elevation in 
wisdom and knowledge^ have been some- 
times regarded as beings of a superiour or- 
der; and men have felt no more inclination to 
envy them this high standing, than they have 
the sun, by which they were enlightened.— 
Hence we discover in every circle, and among 
every description of persons,some individuals, 
distinguished either nominally or in reality, 
with uncommon powers of mind, before whom 
all competitors are forced to bend. The merits 
and real deserts of those, who are thus eleva- 
ted to this lofty station, are generally propor- 
tionable to the understandingsof those whose 
admiration they command; and for judging 
of the latter, they afford us an accurate crite- 
rion. Where the circle Ts composed of per- 
sons of rude and uncultivated minds, who are 
unable to discriminate between real and pre- 
tended merit; impudence and volubility are 
frequently the only requisites, to induce them 
to acknowledge the validity of the claims 
which the upstart arrogates. Their under- 
standings incapable of deciding upon subjects 
of which they are ignorant, their kearts unac- 
quainted wiUi imposture; Aey yield tiieir ap- 
plause to whoever requires it. As the circle 
widens, and embraces a greater extent, and 
a ^eater variety of characters, W€ shaH per^ 
ceive those whom they distinguish as superi- 
ours in wisdom, to be possessed of greater 
acquirements. A considerable portion of 
knowledge and experience, anda real mental 
superiority, are generally necessary to obtain 
a repuution for diem, among persons actua- 
ted by various sentiments and opposite views; 
whose understandings arf quickened and in- 
vigorated by education, and whose judg- 
ments and tastes are strengthened and matu- 
red by reflection and ooservation. Yet even 
among persons thus eidightened, impostors 
are sometimes found, who by means of su- 
perficial talents, bold assertions, and fsJse 
wit, attain an elevationg to which tlieir merits 
could never have raised them. 

One of these successful pretenders is Al- 
cander. He is the son of a respectable mer- 
chant of one of our great cities, and has re- 
ceived all the advantages of a liberal educa- 



tion. ^ But learning, instead of enlightening 
the minds of ^ome,^ appears only to enshroud 
them in a ten-fold night; and the understand- 
ing of Alcander, naturally feeble, has become 
weaker, in proportion to ** the learned lum- 
ber** with which he has stored his brain. — 
Equally desirous of being esteemed an ac- 
complished gendeman, and an accompbshed 
scholar^ he has been equally unsuccessful in 
both attempts : A stiffiiess and formality of 
manner disqualify him for the one character, 
as much as the weakness of his understand^ 
ing docs for the other. I have frequently 
seen him walking in frequented places, with 
a book In his hand, in order to attract obser- 
vation \ and to obtain a reputation for taste^ 
he is continually repeating passages of poetry, 
which he has heard acbnired by some judi- 
cious criticks. As many of his associates 
are men of sense, by retailing their opinions 
he passes with muiy for a man of talen^.«— 
Though Alcander has studied loj^ch and 
metapbysicks with some attention, and has 
repeatedly read the works of Beattie, Reid, 
and others, who have so clearly exposed the 
absurdity of the doctrines of Berkeley and 
Hume; one may in five minutes with a litde 
ingenuity, convince him that matter has no 
existence. When he wishes to display him- 
self to advantage^ he talks much, ^d expres- 
ses his opinions with all the vehemence of 
conviction, and tiie b<ddness of truth; but 
among diose whom he considers hfs superi- 
ours in ubderstanding, he seldom^ converses 
6n subjects tiiat he has not recentiy studied. 
Once get him beyond the extent of his read- 
ing, or treat the subject in a different method, 
and like a man ignorant of swimming who 
has ventured beyond his depth, he immedi- 
ately loses himself. Yet Alcander among 
most of his acqusuntance, holds a high repu- 
tation for literary accomj^shments and men- 
tal endowments; and even some, who are ge- 
nerally accurate judges, have becni deceived 
by his arrogant and imposing pretensions. 

Willie such characters as Alcander are fre- 
quentiy to be met with, it is by no means sur- 
prising that many become warped by preju- 
dice, smd learn to contemn the cause of learn- 
ing. Men are ap( to generalize tiieir ideas; 
and consider individual facts, and solitary in- 
stances, as sufficient to warrant the adoption 
of a general rule. They do not with suffi- 
cient proper precision, discriminate between 
learning and its professors; and indeed they 
are frequently so strongly biassed, that they 
allow the strongest force to whatever coin- 
cides with their prejudices and feelin|;s.-— 
Hence the injury wmch empirkks vs^ science 
occasion, is equally great, whether they suc- 
ceed in their deceit, ,or the imposture be ex- 
posed. In die one case tiie cause of letaiing 



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THE RURAL VISlTEfl. 



isi injured, by the diffoftion of erroneous scrt- 
timents, and pernicious doctrines, \ioder the 
sanction of emment authority; in the other 
by being exposed to contempt. Habits of 
idleness, or misdirection of labour, are the 
consequences of both. Men of sense should 
therefore unite in the common expression of 
contempt for the upstart, and crush hii» ere 
he is firmly rood^d: and they should assidu- 
ously foster rising merit wherever it may be 
found. U* 



THE NEW JERSEY BIBLE SOCIETY. 

No.VL 

We will now interrupt the regular series 
of communications for a short time, to attend ; 
to the ideas formed of thb benevolent work, 
(which seems to call aloud on every denomi- 
nation of Christians, who are desirous of im- 
itating their gr^t Head and Redeemer, by 
going about and doing good) by coming 
nearer home, and examinmg what is doing 
in our own country— The following is an, ex- 
tract from a circular address of the Bible So* 
eiety of the State of Massachusetts : 

"It is generally known, that in the year 
1804, a Society was formed in Lcmdon, un- 
der Ae patronage of some of the most res- 
pectable names among the nobili^^ clergy, 
and others of every religious denomination, 
for the grand and simple purpose of diistribu- 
ting the holy scriptures m all countries and 
in all Ismguages. So fprcit^ does the sim- 
plicity, as well as the usefuhiess of this de- 
sign^ strike every serious mtnd« that perhs^s 
the first sentiment is that of woncWr that it 
had never before been adopted on a^i exten- 
sive scale in any part of .Cnristen4o«-— The 
.history of the operations of this magnificent 
establishment, seems however, to show, that 
it has been adopted late, only to be embraced 
with the more zeal and prosecuted with the 
more success. The reports whichthis soci- 
ety has published, cannot fail to seize the at- 
tention and gladden the heart of every chris- 
tian who reads them. He will think he sees 
at no gi-eat distance, the day, when every re- 
gion of Europe, and perhaps of the eastern 
continent, is to feel the influence of this cha- 
rity, for which Christendom called, and thou- 
sands have already blessed the names of its 
authors. 

In our own country, Ae Philadelphia Bible 
Society has the honour of taking tn^ lead in 
this cause of God and of Christian benevo- 
lence ; but instead of extending their views 
to the whole United States, by making their 
Society the centre of other connected esta- 
blishments, its conductors Imve thought it 
most proper to recommend the institution of 
similar independent associations in the capi- 
tal cities, throughout the country. The vast 
extent of our territory^ as well as other consi- 
derations of convenience, seems to justify the 
course which has been taken. . This Society 
has published an interesting address to tlie 
pubUck, as well as a report, in which they give 
it as their opinion, tl>at one fourth part of the 
families in thi« country, are destitute of die 
hoty scriptures*. If in ournoithem region^ 



this estimate does not ^eatly exceed the ac- 
tusd state of facts, there is a call for the cha- 
ritaUe activity of christians, which ought not 
to be heard without a generous surprise, 
mingled indeed with some degree of humil^ 
ation* 

You are invited, Cbristisms, to lend your^ 
aid to thfi distribution of the Bible-~The 
revealed word of God is, and ever has betai 
the source of wh^t is most valuable in human 
knowledge, most salutary in human institu- 
tions, pure in human affecticms, comfiortable 
in human condition, desirable ai^d glorious hi 
human expectations — without it man returns 
to a state of nature ; ignorant, depraved, and 
helpless; left without ^issurances of pardon, 
and lost to the way of recovery and life. It 
is the pearl of great price, to buy which the 
merchant tn the parable sold a&that he had, 
and yet was rich. Without this, wealth is 
poor; and the treasures of ancient wisdom, 
and modem science^ a mass of inanimate 
knowledge. 

We live in a part of die world, where, thro* 
the goodness of God, almost every man has 
been taught to read ; and where the Scrip- 
tures, as soon as they are placed in his hands, 
are within the reach of his miderstanding.— - 
We live, too, in an age of Christianity, when 
the Bible can neither be prohibited nor dis- 
countenanced by human authorit)% It can' 
no more be locked up in the language of the 
learned, or disguised and mutilated by the 
dishonest or the profane. It was the most 
glorious consequence of the reformati(m, to 
draw fordi this Book of God from the ob- 
scurity in which it had been kent^ and by giv- 
ing translations in the vernacular tongues, to 
thraw open its U'easures to the peo^e, and 
thus also to secure them forever against its 
future loss. It was the unsealing of the foun- 
tain of life, that its waters might freely flow 
for the healing of the people* 

The novel sight of so many Christian de- 
nominations, uniting with ardour, to diffuse 
a knowledge of the common records of their 
faith, is peculiarly grateful in diese days of 
division, and we hope not imacceptable to die 
great Head of the Church. He who came 
to preach the gospel to the poor ^ to bind up the 
broken hearted^ to preach deliverance to the 
captives and recovery of^ sight to tlie biind^ 
when he was reading this very passage out 
of die Book of God in the Jewish Synagogue, 
added) this day is this Scripture fulpUed in 
your ears* Christians! we cal} upon you to 
reaccomplish this prediction among us, by 
sending the gospel, all simfde and salu^uy as 
it is, wherever it may be wanted; to the 
dwellings of the poor and disti«sse4|, to the 
huts of the distant and solitary; to the cham- 
ber of the prisoner^ and cell of the criminal ; 
and last, though not least, to the bed side of 
the old, whose eyes dimmed with the rheum 
of a^, can yet spell out its contents. With 
this uiyour hands ^ to the. poor, not with 
the aspect of a partizan, to instil die notions 
of a sect, but in the fair smd open guise of 
truth which they cannot suspect, and to make 
diem an o&ring of charity, in the spirit of 
love. You go as the stewards of die greatest 
benefaction which mankind ever received — 
the bequest of the prince of life, whoi^^ough 



he wasrkh^for our sokes bdcame poor<,$hat we 
through his poverty might become rich. Sing- 
ly if it is lawful to estimate the good to be 
aadcipated from an institution erf' this nature, 
by the evils which it av<nds, or the inconven- 
iences and objections which it obviates, we 
may hail the day, when the word of God, en- 
tirely and unobstructed by the passiom of 
men, shall run and be glorified in its course* 
Ministers of the Gospel! On you we hare 
our first claims. Surely it is not necessary 
to &uggest to you, that the success of your la- 
bours, essentially depends oh the £emiiliar ac- 
quaintance of your hearers with diftt book, 
fit>m which you profess to draw your pirtoci- 
plus and your precepts— We rely on ^our 
cooperadon, as you look for die salvation of 
your people. For it is the simple wo«4 of 
God, which is, after all, of any intrtnstek va- 
lue, of any siure and sanctifying effieaty. The 
sermons of preachers, the explanation of crit- 
idcs,the commentaries,systems,andhypotfae- 
sis of divines, and all die mass of theological 
learning, with which the worid h crowded ; 
are, when compared widi this book, but the 
haios around the sun, which gives them all 
the lustre, they may have. You then have an 
interest in this cause, whichit i&in vain for 
us to attempt to enhance. 

Chrisdans! whom God has blessed with 
health — ^we ask you how in the wide re^on 
of charity, it it possible to select an object 
where bounty is less Bkely to be perverted ; 
or where the giver is sure, that he does not 
even indirectqr minister to the injury of his 
fellow creatures? Here, though jffn should 
fail of doing die good you expect, you cannot 
be b^rayed into a harm, which yoado not 
foresee; but on the contrary, if your bounty 
be not utterly lost, you* know tluit its coose* 
quences will extend far 1>eyond the presetn 
Ufe, and the reach of present calculation* 

The influence of early instrucdon in die 
scriptures is sometimes very gpreat where it 
is not acknowledged^ and it is an influence of 
which many cultivated and unculdvated 
minds have been conscious, even after they 
have too much relinquished the good habits 
of their childhood, and among them, the rea- 
ding of the Bible. 
- The want of diis book in a rising family, 
K^ere the parents are poor and indifferent, 
die children ignorant, rude and abandoned, 
and the rest of the ^mily left wlttout the 
chance of gaining any religious ideas, is a 
subject of serious thought to the philanthro- 
pist, who only looks forward to die character 
of the next generation. For from these, 
another race is to be pvojpagated, and m this 
B^w country, perhaps omer regions peopled. 
N«ed it be added, t£at the Chrisdan Philan- 
Aropist b obliged to follow these fearftil con- 
sequences to another and eternal state of ex- 
istence, where it will be too late to instHict, 
and where chari^ can neither ransom cw re- 
lieve! 

, When we consider, Chrisdans, what it 
has cost to establish the religion of Jesus in 
the world, die mirades, the sorrows^ and at 
huit die life of the Lord of Olory, the latlom ^ 
asd sufferings of the aposdes, ^e privndons 
of the eariy christians, the blood oi infiume- 
mble.niartyrsi and the prayer and^tudies^ 



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THE RURAL VISTTEll. 



179 



the preachmg and laborious minialry of so 
many great and good men in past age^; and 
at the same time reflect, that, in consec^ence 
of the discovery of the art of printing, we 
have it now m our power to commum^ate at 
the easiest rate, the knowledge of a gospel, 
for which so much has been expended ; it 
seems almost an insult to ask, if there is a 
disciple in Christendom, who can refuse his 
aid to such a charity. The request, indeed, 
would appear Impertinent, if ths consequent 
ces were less vast^or even less than infinite; 
When we consider too the zeal, with wUch 
proselytes have been made to every sect in 
nisloty ; the trav^ of missionaries to the 
extremities of the earth; the industjy and ge- 
nerosity^ with which errour itself mis been 
propagated; and^e funds which have been 
accumulated for the service of Christianity ijti 
many of its artificial forms ; we are ahoost 
aahaiBed to importune you for contributions 
to circuli^ the simfde word of God. But 
die very simplicity and ^eatness of the ob- 
ject fotiud us to remain sdentw Weodlupon 
you, therefore, in the name of your Master! 
In tills cause, the voice of censure can&ot 
yaise a. whisper against you; the powers of 
darkness cannot defeat you by mingling hu- 
man passtcms with die oii^ect; and innumera- 
ble souls, who shall live forever, will not 
^ase to bless you*" 



ATHENIAN LETTERS. 

NO. n. 
CUEANDER TO HTDASPES. 

My time has of late been a good deal tadcen 
up (when th^ business of the king would per- 
mit me) in the perusal of the Grecian poets 
and hi8torian8»««*-«As thy curiosity will 
perhaps make thee desirous of being ac- 
quainted with their names and writings, I 
will fill this despatch with the clearest account 
I have been able to obtain of them. 

For this purpose I shall begin with those, 
who have done most honour to the art of po- 
etry; since it was originally the chief vehi- 
cle, by which the knowledge of government, 
religion, or philosophy, wsis conveyed to die 
dark understandings of mankind. The first 
founders of the fabulous tiieology are uncer- 
tain. JLinus, Or]^eus, and Musseus are re- 
membered witii some general marks of es^ 
teem> even in tiiese ages of Greece, fiat 
theirhistory is too uncertain and fictitious to 
bear a serious relation. We^must descend 
therefore immediately to Hraier, who was 
at once tbe first and greatest poet of antiqui- 
ty. The subject of his admired perform- 
ance is die siege of Troy, and the adventures 
of the Grecian heroes, particularly of Uly*- 
ses, on their returning, after a long absei^e^ 
to their native kingdoms. He is said to have 
flourished between two and dirce hundred 
)rears alter the destruction of that potent em- 
pu%; and the Greeks retain such a high ve- 
neration for his memory, tintt numy towns 
stiU contend for the honour of his birth.^-^ 
Sm\T8a carries the fairest tide of them adil; in { 
eonfideace nrhereof ^e l»a erected »te«|i04 



to his name, and the people worship him 
with the sacred rites of adoration. Consider 
him in his person and fortune, he is repre- 
sented as a strolling indigent hard. Consi- 
Jkr him in the qualities of his mind, posses- 
sed of every natural and acquired endow- 
inent human na^re is capable of; it is impos- 
sible to refuse him that reverence and re- 
gard, which is so justly due to the " father 
of tiie Grecian poets.*' At the same time I 
cannot be of their opinion, who ascribe the 
rise of all military uid civil policy, religion 
and learning, to the genius ot Homer. It is 
enough to transmit his praise to the latest 
posteritjr, that the warmth and spirit of fiis 
expression is equal to the strength and lofti- 
ness of his tiiought, and the boldness of his 
imagination to the fertility of it. To this 
give me leave to add, that the beauty and 
contrivance of his fables, the musick mid va- 
riety of his numbers, uul the regular compo- 
sition of thci iji^ole, have raised the dignity 
of epick poetry in it^ infancy, if not at its very 
birth, to an inimitable period of perfection; 
insomuch that futurity shall wonder without 
being able to arrive at it. Hesiod was a na- 
tive of Cuma in jEtolia, and removed soon 
after his birth to Ascra in Boeotia. His writ- 
ings are esteemed nejrt in antiquity and value 
to those of Homer. Some have wantdnly 
made them contempor^es, and pretend to 
say, that Hesiod got the better of Homer in 
a poetical dilute. But this is highly impro- 
baUe, since it may be confessed, witiiout de- 
tracting from his real merit, ^at Hesiod is 
by no vomuKo Ms ctpiM^ B4»»ide«, the nature 
of their talents is as different, as the style of 
tiieir poems. The one excels ^nore in subli- 
mity than in accuracy; is less indebted to art 
than to tiature; more engaged in the tumuhs 
of war, than the quiet of* retirement. The 
other is rather studious of plainness than sub- 
limity; less fond of ornament, tiian proprie^; 
more addicted to the images of a rural li^, 
than the busy scenes of a publick one. The 
simplicity of his parts, ffiid the agreeable 
softness of his disposition, are evident from 
his choice of a style between loftiness and 
meanness, which is well suited to the undis- 
turbed tranquility of his station and temper. 
His success in this kind of poetry is sufficient 
to justify his claim to the second rank, with- 
om ever placing him in competition with Ho- 
mer for the first. They tell an odd story of 
him, which shows him to have been a man of 
either humour or caprice. For as he one day 
accidentally overheard a potter at his daily 
UilK>Ur singing some of his verses with an ill 
accent and cadence, he threw himself down 
on th^ poor man^s brittle property; at which 
the fellow immediately cried out, *' why do 
you spoil my work?" •* Because,'^ answered 
Hesiod, ** you spoil mine." 

Alcseus eddied in a different way botii 
from Homer and Hesiod; but was more de- 
sirous of acquiring reputation in the capacity 
of a soldier and a patriot, than in that of a 
poet. His pretensions howc^'cr to the two 
former, are not so well grounded ^ his pre- 
tensions to the latter. For as to his military 
glory, it appears, that in a battie between the 
Athetiians and My tileneans he fled suddenly 
#6m &e engagement, and dishonourably len ( 



his shield in the possession of an enemy. And 
as to his zeal in the service of his countrj% 
notwiti^tanding his violent opposition to the 
measures of Pittacus, the pnident tyrant of 
Mytikne, he was ambitious of aspiring to 
that arbitrary command, which he blamed in 
the bwiKls of another. All his writings are 
in thelyrick strain, and composed in a ver\' 
fine measure peculiar to himself. Heh^s 
happily united closeness with magnificence, 
spirit with correctness, and the utmost 
strength of judgment with the warmth of 
fancy; and though his muse is generally em- 
ployied in matters of love and gallantry, yet 
he always shows himself fit for subjects of a 
nobler nature. Since I have mentioned AI- 
c«us, I should not omit his famous contem- 
porary Sappho, who flourished in Mvtilene 
about the forty-fourth Oljrmpiad, and was a 
woman of no great beauty, but of infinite de- 
licacy and wit ; enough, one should have 
thought, to atone for her other defects. She 
disdaiiled the most passionate addresses of 
Aloeus; and upon his whispering to her one 
day, ♦♦ that he had something to tell her, but 
^ was ashamed of it,'' she answered with a 
just indignation, ^ that if he bad no reason 
to be ashamed of it, he would not conceal it." 
Her cruelty to him is the more remarkable, 
because she was much enamoured of one 
Phaon, whose unkindness in leaving her, as 
it was the occasion of her finest performan- 
ces, so it was the cause of her death. She 
had a wonderful vein of insinuation and soft- 
ness, which, even now, gives her writings 
such a powerful iway over the tenderest af- 
fections of human nature. There is some- 
thing so graceful and unaffected in herex- 
presaioirand sentiments, so smooth and har- 
monioilft in her plumbers, that the tide of 
" temfc tause," bestowed on her by the com- 
mon voice of Greece, is no more than a due 
testimony of respect to the merit of her poe* 
try. 

Ardulochus was a native of Paros, and 
held in esteem as a poet, about the same time 
witii Sappho and Alcams. He generally pas- 
ses among the Greeks for the inventor of a 
peculiar measure, called Iambic verse; but a 
man of learning assured me, that there is a 
piece <A Homer's, named Margites, still ex- 
tant, that proves the contraiy. His way of 
writing is strong and nervous, short and 
pointed, witty and satirical; but tinctured 
with so much gall and malice, that he him- 
self professes, " he could spare neither friend 
nor foe." They tell a remarkable story of 
him; that one Lycambes having offered him 
his daughter in marriage, and aJterwards re- 
fused to g^ve her, Archilochus lashed them 
with such rancour and severity, that he and 
his daughter bbth hanged themselves. 

Some yea]rs after lived Anacreon of Teos 
in Ionia, a man of ease and pleasure, divid- 
ing his time betwixt the amusements of wine, 
love, and poetry. He was so professed an 
enemy to care and business, that when his 
patron Pohxrates of Samoa made him one 
day a present of five talents, it disturbed his 
sleep; so he carried it back again tile next, 
and told him^^ " that how considerable soev 
er the sum might be, it was not a rew 
equal to tile trouble of preser^'iog iu'' 



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180 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



writings ^re agreeable to the freedom of his 
behaviour; so that he draws a ver}^ lively 
picture of his own character, in the several 
touches of nature that -ate to be found in his 
odes and sonnets. We may compare his 
muse to hb. mistress; she seems airy, loose, 
and negligent, and is dressed up with more 
art, the more she hides th^ appearance pf it; 
He lived eighty-five years in one continued 
^ries of healdi and retirement. To nialce 
his death conformable to his life, he is said to 
have been choked witR a grape-stone in his 
wine* 

I shiJl not troublj thee with any memoirs 
of Alcman, BacchyUdes, Ibycus, Stesicho- 
rus-, and Simonides; though they excelled 
each m their different way, arid the last of 
Aem hath particularly recorded, in verse, the 
four fights of Marathon, Thermopylae, Sala- 
mis, and Platsea. But of all those, who con- 
tinued to support the grandeur of the lyrick 
muse, Pindar must be mentioned widi most 
regard* His poems were composed in hon- 
our of several conquerors, at the Isthmian, 
Pythian, Nemaean,^ or Olympic garnet ; and 
give us a notion of the highest transport and 
elevation, to which this an can be advanced. 
His designs are so vast, his style so daring, 
his thought? so striking and uncommon, that 
it requires as much attention to read him, as 
to imitate others. He has often been censur- 
ed as too unbridled and irr^ular; yet this is 
not the least of his beautie% since an ode is 
intended more to raise our fancy, than to in- 
form our judgment. It is adapted to the fire 
and majesty of Pindar; his imagination is on 
the wbg; he canpot stay for words to express 
himself methodically; he uses the boldest 
sort of painting; he gives us a general like- 
ness of his hero, without finishing the fea- 
tured. Thus has he triumphed over the la- 
bours of art, and extorted this approbation 
from mankind, that he alone is the ** perfect 
and unrivalled master of the Grecian Lyre," 
The Athenians pride themselves to thb day 
in an act of uncommon generosity, which 
they performed towards this admired poet. 
His own coimtrymen, the Thebans, having 
fined him in a large sum of money, for the 
particular regard he pays every where to 
Athens in the course of his odes, and his 
neglect of Thebes, which was his native city; 
the people of Athens honourably discharged 
the fine, and proved themselves not unwor- 
thy of the great esteem which Piadttr had 
conceived for them. 

I should proceed in the next place to die 
dramatick poetry .of Athens, and the writers 
of history : however, as to die former, thou 
wilt forgive me if 1 say nothing of it at pre- 
sent, since it really seems so interwoven with 
the frame of the Athenian constitution, that 
an account of it would hardly be so proper 
for the perusal of a friend^ as of a minister of 
state : and as to the latter, I must delay the 
Httle materials I have cx>llected upon that 
subject, to another letter. But I detain thee 
too long from the presence of thy prince, 
whose affection thou hast secured by the duty 
of thy obedience; and whose boxmty, by the 
.^eal of tky service. Adieu. 

From Salamk* - 



SELECTED FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

^rittcn at th^ castle of Yock, by Jamu Momtgom- 
KY, printer of the " Sheffield Iris,** imprisoned six 
months for a supposed libel ; and which bus itever 
appeared in print. C 

MOONLIGHT. 

Gentle Moon! a captive callst 

Gentle Moon! awake* arise! 
Gild the prison's sullen walls* ^ 

Gild the tears that drown his eyes. 

Throw thy veil of cloixls aside. 

Let those smiles that l^ht th^ polcy 
Through the liquid ether glide. 

Glide into the moornet's soul- 
Cheer his jnelancholy mind, . 

Sooth his sorrows, heal his smart; 
Let thy influence pure, refin'd. 

Cool the fever of his heart. 

Chase despondency and care. 

Fiends, that haunt the guuty breast; 

Conscious virtue brnrves despair, 
Triuflophs most, w|i«a moo. oi^xr^Md* 

Now I feel thy power benign, 
Sweir ray bosom, thrill my veins; 

As thy bevns the brightest shine, 
W hen the deepest midnight reigns. 

Say» fair shepherdess of nighf, • 
Who thy starry fiock doth lead^ 

Unto filb of living light, ' 
On the blue ethereal mead—* 

At this znoraent doet thou see, 

Frpm thine elevated sphere* 
One kind friend, who thinks of me. 

Thinks— and drops a feeling tear? 

On a brilliant beam convey. 
This soft whisper to his breast; 

« Wspc^afgeneroQS* drop away, 
<*^ Ue for whom it faU»-^ia bfeMt. 

'* Blest with freedom, unconfined, 
'^ Dungeons cannot hold the sonl$ 

** ^ho caii chain th^ immortal miiidf : 
«« None> bot be who spanp the po^c.** 

Fancy too, the nimbi* Fairy, 

Wjfth her subtle, mn^kk spell. 
In ronontick visions airy, 

Steals the Captive from his cell, 

Qn her >]^oonlight.piiiioiis borne. 
Far be fUes frpm grief and paiiiy 

Never, never to be torn, 

Firom bis friends and home again. 

Stay! thou dear delusion, Slay! 

Beauteous bubble! do not break! 
Ah! the pa^ant flits away. 

Who from such a dream, would wake! 



so% run mtrnAi' vi8iTn« . 

We know not whether to give the fbflowing as origi- 
aal or selected. £9. 

Come here, fond youth, wboe'er thou be^ 

That boatts to love, as well aft me; 
And if thy breiwt have -felt so wide a wound. 

Come hitheri and thy Bame approve^ 

I'll teach thee what it is to love. 
And by what marks true passion may be fotmdt 

It is to be aU bathed in tears. 

To live u|Km a smile for yearsr 
To lie whole ages at a beauty's feet; 

To kneel, to languish, and implore. 

And though she still disdain, adore; 
It is to do aU this and think thy. fwfferings sweet. 

It is to gaze upon her eyes, 
- With eager joy and fond 6tu|>ri$e, 
Yet temper'd with such chaste and awful ^r^ 

As wretches feel who watt their doom;' 

Nor must one ruder thought presume, 

Thoitghbat m ivliisper bfotk^i^ attetlicr car« 



It is to hope, though hope wese lost, 
Though bc^ven a^ eai^ thy pas^i^ qrost: 

Though sh^ were bnght aa si^nted qu^en above. 
And thou the least and mdmest swain 
That £olds his flock upon the plami 

Yet if thoQ4ar'st not hope— 4hoQ doat notk^re* 

It is to quench thy joy in tears. 

To muse strange doubts and groundless itusi 
If pangs of jealousy thou hast not proved. 

Though she werc^ fonder afid inor& true 

Than any nymphs old poets drew. 
Oh! never dream again that thou iiast loved. 

If when the darilng noaid is. gone. 

Thou dost not seek to be alone. 
Wrapt in a pleasing trance of tender woe. 

And muse>and £M thy tender arras; 

Teeding thy fancy on hercharmsi 
Thou dost not love, £br love is xiiourish^d &Q- 

Uftny hopea thy bosem^iarc* 

Buf tlios^ whkh love bM plapted> there. 
Or any cares but his thy breast ent^ra), 

lliou never yet his power hast known; 

LovB sitg on a despotkk throne. 
And reigns a tyrant if« he^eigtis-tit aU. 

Now if thou art so lost, a thine, 

Here all thy tender sorrovif s bnhg; 
And prove whose patience longest can Cfldia«^ 

V^ell a^e whose U^o/cy sh^bfilost , 

In dreamy of fondest passion mo^. 
For if thou tbwMM loved, dl/ never hope a cure. 



THE SAILORS' MEETING IN P^RT. 

Cdvtitf give meyonr fist, mygo^ ftltow, 

I'm happy to shake it once more; 
We'll laugn and we^l quaff while we're n|eIloir« 

And IroKcks oji yooth prattle o^es. 

By the trade-winda of lil^.M wediivtft^ 
i Unable to fetch where we look; 
But,. cheerfully met in this ha^en, 
We*ll straighten misfortune's worst crook. 

WbKt thouglr we hftve soioMiinttbad vvoNJMr^ 

W inds higb. ajpd, t|ie sky oyeccaot; 
Our hearts should set light as a feat^r^ 

Vfe^ reach a safe hsorbourat laftt« ' 

For l^s, who £pmiB;tn4ii( th# wide iOOM% 

Has 3ometl4f)g in store.for us allj 
He's our pilot in calin& or comrhotioRt 
' And we must obey at his caiL 

He knows when, we m^t^iisj^oqr, . 

He knows when we forfeit the samef 
iThen, Jack, let us mind our behaviour— 

We ne'^r can conceal a foitt game. 

Thc» let, true hear^ b$ unit^ 
.^ Here's a ncalth to the bonest.and braye; 
Wherever your faith has been pUghted, 
Bear it true till you unk in the gr«ive< 

^ friendsbip.oiur bark on the ocean ^-^ 

« Be duty our strenuous fort: 
When our voyages are up, no commotion 
Shall drive ua again from the pbru 

A BEAUTIFUL SENTIMENT. 

Dr. Youngn in coi\tem^latn^ ^the char^oter of fL m^ 
of genius and learning, 'divested of moraUty, tu^tnel 
. ibriowing beautiful sentiment:^* 

" Whan I behold a genius fright and hatei 
Of tewring talents, and terrestrial urns, 
Methinks I see, as thrown fiOmber higk.i 
The glorkms ttf^g^met^ of a aoaL.)QK«Miit 
, Withjubbijaiiiuix^»,anjdgl^t^ms^}iL^b6dn^ 



&R. 



rot^ckma; and if wedo^iiot^thtaJi'more Uun 
we eidierimtc or re^di^^ttr Gtudies w3&mvatl - 



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1^1 



QJ^ It is suggested for coruidtrationj 
Whether the Damp Air^ which the trees in 
the City of Burlington colled and detain^ es^ 
pecially in xvet weather^ is not increasingly 
unfovourabte to the health of the Inhabitants? 
(mdtfsOy Whether it will not be prudent to 
lessen the nnmher^ and have those that remain 
trimmed fan'Wise? that is, so as to yield a 
shadey without obstructing the air* 

A CITIZEN. 



FOR THB IliriUiL VISXTEl. 

HISTORY OF ALVXRA. 

A TAtE or TRtTTH; 
CContinued from p. 173.) 

The widow of good Jacob in this trying 
hour, fbund coasoktion i» converse with her 
God: she was able to unburtheh her soul, by 
pouring her con^kunts in. secret devotion, 
mto the gracious eai^ of her compasstfinate 
Fadfer in Heaven. Hie daughters wept al- 
most incessantly: and feeling the loss they 
had sustained, in the death of their father, to 
be irreparabld^ di^ dedared dial they would 
go down to the grave mourning. Alvira, 
who was the youngest^ and on that account, 
stood in mor»n<iedx>f d^ counsels and ex-* 
ample of her pious father, swooned; andac- 
cidently, ffeU on die same bed where the 
warm dust of her venerable parent lay-— She 
waS) howev^, b)^ the attention of the-kind 
neighbours soon restored to sense and rea- 
son. Theophilus war present ; but, was so 
wrapped up in contemplating the amazing 
love of God'to hw d^Hbg saint, that he wBt 
almost lost to every other object. 

The obsequies were attended, and the pre- 
cious dust of'this wMthy man was.deposited 
IB die 'church yard j by-ttoe side of his pious 
ancestors: there to wait the summons of the 
etenud Jdiovah at the general judgment, 
when he shall bid it live again-. Sleeps wor* 
thy saint'i-^leep sweet, in diy dusty b^d, and 
rest from that unspeakable anguishi which 
must have been inevitable, had&t thou lived 
to witness tjie evils, that some years after thy 
departure, came upon the child of thy fdnd^ 
est affections.. In die grave, thou art not ai^ 
iitedeemable prisoner f but thy -mortal-body 
shall at the time appointed by the father^ be 
restored to newness of life^ in all the glprious 
improvements jof a hsqipy resurrection* 

Theophiids^ in paying hfe last respects^^ to 
his most excellent guardian, found that his 

Eassbn for Alvira was entirely ex^nct; for 
e could notoidy mix with-the falmiyi speak 
to Alvira of d>^ astontshmg love of (iod, in 
giving his onl;^ begotten and well beloved 
Son, Jesu3 Christy to suffer and die for ruin- 
ed man) lead in the meming and evening 
devotions^, &c* : but he cpuld also w^aUt with 
her in the garden^ which was adjoining the 
n>ansioB.haase----4iaiid her inland out of the 
carriage, and even wipe off* widi- hb own 
kiindkiirGliief,*A^ tears that ranirom her fine 
bheeyes, snd^ rolled down her dieaksnom 
pale^ with grief, without feeling axif. extraor^ 
Ife^o uklQOTrwt i t w>hcgy 



in common with her sisters, and find in his 
attention to her a complacency, merely from 
the consideration of her being the best be- 
loved child of his deceased guardian. Find- 
ing that his fetters were really broken, he re- 
joiced in his deliverance, not from Alvira, 
but fi-om himself—he was happy in the liber- 
ty he had obtained. From Alvira's treat- 
ment of him in times past, he had no reason 
to expect diat she entertained for him, any 
thing more than a common friendly regard; 
and he therefore felt as though he had gained 
a gieat conquest in being able to look on her 
us he supposed she did on him; to obtain 
such a state of mind, he would have once 
thought totally impossible; but such impos- 
sibilities are sdways vanquished by time, and 
resolute perseverance. Let the youth who 
is bound in Cupid's chains, and finds no re- 
turn of love to Compensate for his tender pas- 
; sion, go and do likewise. 

Thecqdiilus was now in hb twentieth year; 
and being entirely free from his former at- 
' tachment to Alvira, was content to remain 
so; and therefore sought no opportunity to 
rekindle the flame that had once burned with 
\ so much vehemence, but was now as he sup*- 
i posed, happily quenched. This, however, 
< was far from being the case with her; for 
I after her extreme grief for the death of her 
fikther had subsided, she took every opportu- 
nity that was consbtent with the delicacy of 
her sex, to throw herself in his way. Al- 
; though her anxiety to make up the breach, 
I was not at first noticed by him, her other and 
and more intiowito Aoquaiutooca. observed it; 
and in conversation withh^, would frequent- 
ly raUy her on that point; which she would 
as frequendy turn off with a silent blush, that 
revealed the seoretsr of her heart: or by 
jpleasandy observing, that some people had a 
inappy knack in speUine out every one's se- 
crets but dieir own« Alvira also recollected 
itho advice of her father, when he had, for the 
last time, entered into conversati6n with her 
on her treatment of Theophilus;. and deter- 
mined if possHsle, to come to a friendly ex- 
pUmation'of the subject with him; when she 
also intended to make those concessions 
which her father had advised, and which she 
knew was her du^.. But firom his entire in- 
difference and seeming coolness, she soon 
found that her task was a Herculean one-«- 
diat he was fer from being accessible through 
those ordinary means, by which other young 
p;endemenare frequently t^ken; and by which 
It is highly pi^bable, be also might have 
bean recaptured, had it not been for those 
wounds he had received from that quarter, 
and which, though healed, had left behind 
thbm- deep furrowed scvs, which remained 
as:so ]mny4>eacon& to guide him in his future 
voyages. 

OSt slight and mmnentary interview he 
had with her; which took place in the church 
yard» where they had been in common with 
odier neighbours, to, consign to the dust a 
tender, deceased babe; the child of an ind- 
mate acquaintance of theirs* Theophilus, as 
jiTas common to him on such occasions, was 
bcettmedin contempls^ng the love of God 
lo babes, who have but just seen and felt a 
fittle of, the pains and s^itows of dua worid, 



then closed their eyes <hi all mortal things; 
and through die infinite merits and inter- 
cession of the adored Redeemer, passed to 
the paradise of their Father in Heaven. As 
he was walking down towards the gate which 
led from the yard to the street, and medita- 
ting on this subject, he turned round and saw 
the. fair Alvira, evidendy waitmg to catch 
hb eye# "She courtesied— he returned the 
comjrfiment,. and said, *• Miss, I hope I see 
)*ou in good health to day;" and then ^ked 
after the health of her good mother and kind 
sbters. " Sir,*^ said she '* I thank you for 
your politeness; my health is as usual, and I 
am happy to say that my dear mamma arid 
sisters are well. I hope, sir, I have the pleas^- 
ure of seeing you m the enjoyment of good 
health." Theophilus said, while he again 
bowed and fixed his eyes direcdy upon hers; 
that he was in much better health than he had 
been for some months past. While he utter- 
ed these words, he observed that her eyes 
sparkled, as though she enjoyed some pecu- 
liarly pleasurable sensations; and in an in- 
stant, her lovely cheeks Were suiltised with 
crimson blushes. They then, after exchong;- 
ing the usual compliment, parted. Theophi- 
lus, in reflecting oh the appearance and ad- 
dress of Alvira, in this interview, thought 
that he saw soraething'about her uncommoh- 
ly amiable and attractive ; and, for the mo* 
ment, was almost resolved to renew his ad- 
dresses to her: but then, when he reflected 
on the treatnient he h^d received from her, 
and the consequent pain lie had suffered in 
time past, he was able to think of her again, 
and maintain the same calm composed state 
of mind, that he experienced wTien thinking 
of any odier yomig lady. 

{Tq be contitikedJ) 



F«& THB RVBAI< VX8XTEIU 

TO FANCY. 

Come Fancy, vrith thy soothing powec, 

On me one nty of hope bestow; 
Come cheer life's sad iad gloomy hour. 

Its varied scene of joy and woe« 

Can'st thoa not^^ with thy magick smiles* 
One spark of heavenly peace impart? 

And with thy dear delusive wiles ^ 
tteinimate the drooping heart? *" 

r 

Ah yes! thou can'st the heart beguile, 

And wipe Afflictions bitter tear; 

Can'st cheat us into Contfort's smile, 

^ And bid Conttntment's form i^pear. , 

Then lead me thh)ugh thy aiiy way,' 

From sad'redlity of woe; 
And bid hiy heart nO longer stray, 

O^er scenes that naught of peace bestoir. 

' Thcli when each care, eacTi sorrow's left behincC 
111 own thy influence puife within my mind. 

EWA. 

If in publtck life the immdtal man be mju- 
rious to society ; he is much more destnicthre 
inpriv£(te. Such anyone sourd, embitters, 
and poisons domestick happiness;' and by this- 
means incapacitates the rising generation 
frombecommg either liappy or honourable. 
Let immorwity be removed, and the pri- 
sons may he shut up. We may then sleep in 
aafe^ without bolts or bars to our doors. 



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182 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



SELECTED FOB THE RUAA.L VI8ITBB. 

THE DUELLIST:— AW TJLEGY, 

* Stranger! who sleeps in yonder nameless grave? 

t saw thee pause and linger o'er the tomb, 
Where to the gale those thorns their branches wave, 
And Evening deepens in that yew-tree's gioom.'^ 

* There sleeps my friend/ the pensive stranger cried: 

* O'er the blank stone have twenty winters past: 
Yet, as the gale anud that yew-tree sigh*df 

Mechought again I heard him breathe his tast. 

Yes! for I saw the last convulsive start, 

That spoke the struggle closed of Life and Deathi 

Felt the last pulse that trembled from his heart; 
And heard the sigh that told his parting breath. 

Fix'd in his breast the adverse weapon stood—* 

* Stranger! Where died he in his cosntry's cause? 
Blest be the man, whose pure and generous- blood 

Flowi for his country's liberty and lawsl*— 

* O why the grief of other days recall? 

Alas! he died not for his country's sake. 
Wielding unhaliow'd arms *twas his to fall: 
Twas his in death his country's laws to break. 

One word, one careless word, escaped his toHgne} 
One careless word, from guile, from anger free. 

Blood,l>lood must cleanse the unsuspected wrongw. 
•• Meet on the heath, beside the lonely tree"— 

So spake the foe: nor, pftrttng, dkl he hide 
The mutter'd threat, nor glance of scorn behind. 

Too well my friend the glance of scorn descried; 
And thus explored his own uncertain mind. 

"•What shall I do? Custom! thy tyrant sway, 
To Uws of earth or heaven untaught to yield, 

And thine, whose nod the brave, the base, obey. 
Ideal Honour! urge me to the field." 

That field perchance consigns thee to the dead,' 
•« Aflfection cries; * Forbear, forbear the strife; 
Think on thy childless mother's hoary head: 
Think on thy orphan babes, thy widow'd wi£c.» 

** Yes, throbs of Nature! through my inmost sonl 
^J'rom nerve to nerve your strong vibrations dart- 
Hark, Duty speaks—' Hebdlious Pride control; 
And bow to Heaven's behest the swelling heart.* 

What though, be witness Heaven ! nor vengeful hate 
Nor hostile rage within my bosom burnt 

How can I guiltless tread the brink of fate. 
And daze the gulf from whence is no i«tum/ 

Though from his breast who braves me to the fight. 
Guarding my own, my sword aloof I wave; 

What praise, while yet against his lawless might 
I stake the &cred trust my Maker gave? 

How mid assembled Angels shall I dare 
For Judgment throned the Son of God to sed: 

Afraid for Him the sting of scorn to bear, 
Who bore the sting of scorn and death for me!* 

And is it then so deep a crime to die. 
Shielding from taint my yet unspotted aame?«« 

Away, vain sophistry! A Christian I, 
And fear at Duty's call to risk my fame? ' 

Tet how. proud foe, thy cold insulting eye, 
Shunning the offer'd combat, shall I face? 

Where hide my head, while Slander's envious cry, 
Roused at thy bidding, tuimpets my disgrace? 

My native woodlands shall I seek, the sneer 

£ven hi their shades on every brow to meet? 
Or haunt the town, in eyery wind tq|bear . 

* There sciilks the Coward/ mun^ thro* the street? 

What, live to infaniy, of fools the scorn, 

The dastard's butt, the by-word of tlie bravs? 
Ifo; CarewoU Doubt!"—* Ueneath the waving thorn, 

* Go, learn his fate at yonder nameless grave. 

Stranger! If trials Hke to his are thine. 

Hark » the voice, that whispers from his sod. 

" ShaiM dost thou dread? The shame of Sin dedine: 
Talk'st thou of Valour? Dare to fear thy God." 

• Sjee Mark, chap, viii. ver. 3S. 



TOiCORRESPONDEKTS* 

Our readers will please to notice, that the PuWick 
Gaol in this city, advertised in Our last to be sold on 
the 18th of April, was a mistake— it should have been 
the eigM of April. 

Having JQst received a corrected plate of the stove 
mentioned some time batk, we intend to giye an un- 
pression of it in our next number. 

Only one more number of '* The History of Alvira" 
is in otup possession— the author will oblige ns by send- 
rag the coaclusion of it. The Sttjoumer^Mapiodist^Au' 
Susta-^Alfred^X.'^H »^.— and V. have come to hand. 



EPHEMERIS. 



. March. 


D. M. 


Sun rises. 


Sun sets. 


H.Water 


3d week. 


H. M. 


H. M. 


Buriing. 


1st day, 


\r 


1 6 5 


5 95 


8 42 


2d day. 


18 


6 3 


5 S7 


9 %% 


3d day. 


19 


6 2 


5 58 


10 35 


4th day, 


20 


6 I 


5 59 


U 33 


5th day. 


21 


6 


6 Q 


12 31 


6th day, 


22 


5 53 


6 2 


1 4 


^th day. 


23 


5 S7 


6 3 


3 1 



INTELLIGENCE. 

POMESTICK. 

The Congress of the United States adjourned, ac- 
cordmg to the constitution, about 11 o'clock on Sunday 
night, the third instant, after a session of precisely 
three months, — -John Quincy Adams, now min- 
ister plenipotentiary in Russia, has been appointed by 
the president, by .and with the advice and consent of 
the senate, an associate judge of the supreme court of 
the United States. 

The Jersey Banking Company have obtained, under 
the name of the Union BanMt an act o> incorporation im 
New-York. The terms, we have not y^ learned. 

Joel Barlow has been appointed by the president, by 
and with the advice and consent of the senate, itiinister 
plenipotenUaigr to^^Vano^ and DaviO^ Bame-W^den 
consul general at Paris. * 

Accounts from Washinrton state, that the differ- 
ence between Messrs. Rairaolph and Eppes, has been 
satisfactorily adjusted, without a resort to an attempt 
at murder.— Mr. Eppes, we understand, made the first 
overture for an accommodation. 

•• The better part of valour, is discretion,** 
The LegisUture of Virginia passed 128 acts durimc 
Its siuing. - ^* 

According to the late c^siis, the city of Baltimore, 
and if a precincts, contahri 46,485 souls. 

i)i#frwiiM' .S/ciwm.— The accounts from Stanstead, 
Canada, and the neighbouring towns, of the ravages of 
the Spotted Fever, or some unknown malady, arc 
truly distressing. We have not the particulars, but un- 
derstand that nearly whole families are taken with the 
disease at once, many of whom die after a short and 
severe illness. It is sud to be e^ally distressing, mak- 
ing the calculation in proportion to the number of in- 
habitants, to the ravages of the yellow fever in Phila- 
delphia and New-York, about 14 or 15 years since.— 
Bamet and Pcacham arc likewise visited with the same 
malady. In some instances three have died out of one 
family. 

Extract of a letter from a gentleman in Wheeling, Vir 
to his friend in PhUadelphia, Feb, ^^, 181L 
•« This day, while lading the j>oat, I -saw a man 
floating in the river Ohio. We got him out. and the 
inquest found upwards of 1200 dolls, in counterfeit 
notes about him, of the Farmers and Mechanics Bank 
of Philadelphia, and several of the eastern banks. His 
name appears itoiti papers about him to have been 
Joshua Danal or Robert Daaaugh. There was about 
10 dollars ni good money.". 

C Boyie announces his intention of commencing a 
National Museum at Washington-City, and invites rtie 
Contnbuuon of curiosities. 

FOREZGsr. 

Extract of a letter, dated London, January 12 
«Mt is pretty certain, 'that our ministers have at. 
length come to some determination respecting the or* 
ders in councU, as there is a quick sailing vessel under 
OTimediate orders, waiting for despatches for America. 
It becomes every day more and more manifest, that 
Bonaparte does not intend to repeal bis decrees, if 



oar orders in council are rescinded; but that he intends 
enforcing, as ftir as he can, by the operation of these 
decrees, the Russian pretensions to establish the law 
" of neutrals in 1780. We rejoice to see by the daily 
bulletins, that his Majesty continues in that state of 
quiet which is favourable to his ultimate recovery." 

We learn by the ship Valentine, Chace, ih 96 days 
from Buenos Ayres, that the junta of that pfaice had 
^ent a body of troops against Paragxiay; that an expe- 
dition was pteparing at Buenos Ayres to go against 
Jfontc Video; that Buenos Ayres was blockaded by a 
force from Monte Vidcoi that no vessels were per- 
mitted to pass, but that the English forced th«ir way. 
Extract oi a letter from a gearlemao at Bvcnoa i^r«es, 
dated Nov. 18, 1810. 
" News has this moment been received, that the 
n«fw government forees have had an action with the 
troops of the Tine of the King's forces, and have gain- 
ed a battle, with the loss of t^ree handred tyien, killed 
and wounded, by which the iY»ines of Potosihave fal- 
len into the hands of the new government, which will 
occasion a greater plenty of money to cireulatc here." 
By accounts from Portugal, we understand that the 
wife of Gem Junot was tafeen prisoner, and the Gene- 
ral himself was wounded and was seen to fisil froast 
his horse. The inhabitants of St. Ubes were pooHng 
into Lisbon, to avoid the French; General Beresford 
having ordered them to evacuate that i^e; as dM 
French troops had withdrawn from beforf Cadtx and 
were marching towards that province. The 6«aous 
Marquis Romana died on the 25th of Janiiaty ai»d was 
to be interred at Belem on the 27th. Fifteen thoosand 
British troops were hourly expected at Lisbon from 
England and Ireland. 

By the ship Pocohontas, Coffin, in 50 days from Lis- 
bon, we learn, that the French artny under Massena 
were about 50 miles from Lisbon, and that they con- 
sisted of about 52,000 men. Gen. Victor had formed 
a junction with 17.000, and «urioiher army onder Soult 
was expected to join shortly, when it was soppoaed 
Massena would attack Lord Wellington. The French 
have crossed and were on the south side of the Tagv. 
Lord Wellington had upwards of 10,000 men employ- 
ed foj^fying the heights opposite Lisbon. Several o^ 
iicers of high rank <aroongst whom were three Gene- 
>^) were going to England by the Packet; bar whea 
I^rd Wellington heatd the news of Victor's jnnctioa 
with Massena, they were inmiediately reca&d, except 
Gen. Fane, whose ill stale of health wonfcl not|pennit 
him to return. Junot is called home, it is said, for 
disobedience of orders to Massena. The EngMi ar- 
nv are very skkly. All the hospitals of Lisbon were 
full ra consequence of the excessive raias. 

The verbal atcounts from Cadiz are, that the au- 
thorities and people were full of confidence and KMrits; 
—that the town was like a store-hoitse, faB of mer- 
chandize;— that the shells which the French had soc- 
cceded hfi throwing into the city were of a new con- 
siruction : Our informant examined one of diem aad 
saw it weighed— iu diameter was nine inches, and its 
weight 75Ib*— two thirds of the cavity were £OBed with 
le^, the other third was a chamber in which, whea 
fiitd, was contained a sulphurous composition intend- 
ed to give a numientum to the shell. Only seven of 
them had reached the town, and only one had done 
mjury. That one fell into a school room, and kHIcd 
two small chiklren— one of whom, whose legs had 
bean CQt of, was placed in the market ^quare^ and ex- 
cited thf most bitter execrations of die Freadi inva* 
ders. 

At the last dates none of these shells had been fired 
into the town ; owmg to the bursting of the machine 
from which they were fired, and the destruction of 
tenor twelve of the French artillerists. The point from 
which the French fired their shells into Cadiz was from 
behhid the island of Matagorda. This island lemain- 
edin mins; 

J-ONIK)N, Jan. 8.-.We received letter* from Ho». 
land yesterday of the 2d inst. The conscription was 
extended to (Oiildren of the age of 13. The Schehlt 
fleet was moored m Ruppd. It is said that in Nor*, 
wsy 3,000 nsea, intended to man the shifM of war 
there, had refused to proceed to Holland, and that the 
Danish troops which were ordered to coomel them 
had declined any interference. 

Jan. 10.— A new decree has been issued by the Da- 
nish government, by which all trade vrith foglaod is 
prohibited undef very severe penalties. 

DlEDrnm Tuesday last, in the 25t^ year of his 
age, Mr. William STEaLina,ion of Jame* $ttrfinc. 
Esq of this city, * 



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^ Homo ium ; htmani nihil ante atienum puto^-'^Man and Ids cojts to me a iwot, are deaj\ 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, THIRD MONTH (MARCH) 25th, 1811. 



No. 35. 



THE RECORDER. 

No. XXXIV. 

Kee mora nee requies. 
Tajiti»4unorl«iidumest. Vitcii.. 

With ftoch a strong desire of praise be glows 
Nor peace nor ease bis anxious bosom kiio>«s^ 

A desire of obtaining the applause of our 
fellow-creatures, ia a propensity in human 
nature from which many of the most import- 
ant and exalted advantages which we enj^y^ 
and the most serious evils with which we »re 
afBicted, originally flow. In order to graf fy 
this vehe^ient passion, which holds an illim- 
itable sway over the hearts of many, and in- 
deed possesses considerable influence in ere-^ 
ry noble and generous mind, men have re* 
sorted to actions of a very different compfex- 
ion. So difierent are they in their character, 
i^o contradictory in their nature, that no teiti- 
mpny less conclusive than our constant md 
frequent experience, could have induced us 
to believe xSazt they might be traced to'Jie 
same ultimate source. While one has bien 
impelled by this active principle, to aim at:he 
most exalted moral elevation, and to punue 
this object with undeviating footsteps md 
unwearied labours, throu^ dangers and iif- 
ficulties; another, by a difierent directionbe- 
ing given to die same propelling force, las 
been tumbled headlong down the dark atf^ss 
of profligacy. While the generous flami of 
emulation, fanned b^ the temperate ham of 
reason, has globed m the bosoms of sone, 
jawttd urged them on in the career of virtue md 
of honour J it has burnt but to destroy Ae 
happiness and greatness of others. 

Men, however exalted above the res^* of 
their feUow creatures, even by relipous md 
moral virtues; how deeply soever they lay 
prize the approbation of their conscienes, 
^whichnext to the approbation of their Cea- 
tor is the highest and purest testimon;of 
their worth; cannot be indifferent to the en- 
sure or esteem of others. It is remarkedby 
Cicero, that " neg&gere quid de se qiume 
sentiatj non solum arrogantis est, sea eUm 
omHino (Rssolutii^^ to consider what otkrs 
think of us as of no value, is the charactds- 
tick not only of arrogance, but of most aln- 
doned profligacy. Man is not an indep- 
dent creature; his relations with his specs 
are so numerous and various, that they mst 
.ever possess some influence over him. iid 
thofi^ the praises of those who surroad 
him, will form but an indifferent substite 
for die consoling sweets of conscious rd- 
tude, yet b<jrfi are required to give him&- 
alted felicity. Though tbie highest and «•- 
est source of happiness, is beyond the im- 
•ewei of any terrestrial power to cermptr : 



dry up, yet the next in importance is at the 
disposal of others. 

If this be the case, an inquiry will natural- 
ly arise, whence ^e contrariety in the effecte 
ihat owe their origin to thesame cause? The 
question is of easy solution; and the answer 
which must be given, opens a wide field 
for observation and useful reflection. It de- 
pends upon those from whom the praise is to 
proceed. Let the bent of the publick mind be 
in what direction it may, the actions of those 
who aim at obtaining dieir applause must 
have the same tendency; must be subservi- 
ent to the power by which they are ruled.-— 
This view of the subject is grand and inter- 
esting: it brings home to our own bosoms, to 
the bosom of each individual, a near anddis- 
tinct view of his duties and his abilities. It 
shows us that our aggregate opinions, out 
wishes, and our acts, must tend in no small 
degree, eventually to detennine the fates and 
characters of those, who are stimulated by 
the honourable desire of obtaining general 
esteem and approbation. In our hands col- 
lectively rests the power, which may wield 
as our inclinations dictate, the elements of 
their nature. Upon our voices ultimatdy 
depend their characters^ their elevation, or 
their fall. Does not this demand something 
on our part? Does not this consideration open 
our eyes to the vast, the awful responsibility^ 
attached to the situation in whidi we stand? 
Or are the consequences resulting from our 
determination, when viewed in the various 
relations in which it operates, self, fiunily, 
country, God, unworthy of receiving a 
breath, a word of condemnation or praise? 
Nor can we^ without forfeiting every preten- 
sion to rectitude of principle, or humanity of 
disposition, consider this duty as bearing 
lightly upon each individual, because it is 
genem; or think to avoid the crime of not 
properly executing it, bjr an unjust and undue 
valuation. How then is this duty to be per- 
formed ? By conferring praise on those, 
and on those alone, whose merits entitle 
them to this reward. Not by assisting to 
bind with die wreath of fame, the brow of him 
whose superiority is founded on wealth, or 
, power, or influence exclusively. Persons who 
possess no other tides to reputation and es- 
teem than these, have not that vigorous 
stream of glory which widens as it proceeds, 
and pours out its accumulated force into the 
ocean of eternity. Even those who bestow 
their plaudits, and lavish their conunenda- 
tion upon these unworthy and adventitious 
qualifications^ seem conscious that they are 
insufficient to wsorant it, and seek to enve- 
lope their motives in the veil of deceit. But 
diis covering is easily seen through at the 
time, or unforeseen occurrences soon raise it 



from before the unhallowed rtiysteries. When 
the fell storm of adverse fortune has uproot- 
ed the power, or overturned the edifice thus 
unduly honoured, the same tempest dissi- 

Eatcs their affections. Then indeed they 
ave time to examine, and liberality to ac- 
knowledge, that they mistook die object of 
their veneration: then iadeed they can per- 
ceive the blemishes upon the sun they wor- 
shipped. But this acknowledgment of their 
errour, results not from pure principles ; it 
do^ not arise from .those motives, which 
alone c^ make a confession of a fault an am- 
ple atonement for its commission* The film 
IS not removed from their eyes, by their own 
exertions ; bjut ^e object whidi was so dis- 
torted, is placed in a different situation. — 
They view him before whom they bowed, 
^^ through the horizontal, misty air' which 
his fate throws round him, ^^ shorn of his 
beams" by accident and misfortune. His 
former transgressions are dien remembered, 
and the catalogue of faults is swelled with 
an the accretions generated by calumny and 
malevolence,, which had been neutralized Or 
held in solution during his state of prosperi- 
ty. We can examine with familiar scrutiny 
the face -of the sun, while sinking beneath the 
horizon; we cUm gaze «t his s^ted lustre, 
while a cloud is before his face; but we can- 
not, dare not venture to look stedfastly, when 
be is in his zenith, and unobacured. 

It is not by tiiese means that we caii avoid 
die performance of a duly that is incumbent 
upon us; idle subterfuges, and flimsy excus* 
es avail us nothing. Let us tjien endeavour 
to direct those, over whom we possess any 
influence, in tne course prescribed by virtue 
and religion: to aid their tottei:ing footsteps, 
and aninaate them by cheeriqg encouragings. 
The event will answer our widest hopes; we 
reward will amply compensate for all our ex- 
ertions; for we shall obtsun the approbation 
of all good men, of our own heartSt and of 
our Creator. D. , 

roa THE aVRAL tisitbr* 
CONTENTMENT. 

Come lovely n^miph and dweH with me. 

And make my breast t^y homes 
Tha^I thy blessM form may see* 

Atten^mt on my dome. 

Though g(^M riches some may crave. 

And placed in honours great; • 
Yet little, I would rather have. 

With low and humble state. 

With food and raiment only bless*d| 

And free from danger's barm; 
In thee I'd place my happiness, 

My heart with goodness wami. 

Such true Content, O! may I $nd, 

While in this ** vale of tean;" 
And keep celestial joys in mind^ 

As I shsdl grow in yean. J. B. 



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HISTORY OF ALVIRA. 

▲ TAUE OF TRUTH. 

CHAPTER IIL 

(Continiied from p. 181.) 

It was in the autumn of the year 1790,>and 
not long after the interview mentioned in the 

Preceding chapter, that Alvira, mindful of 
er pious father's counsel, when he advised 
her to acknowledge her faults to TheophiUis, 
and candidly confess her attachment to him, 
— wrote bim die following letter. 

«< Beaver-Um, Sept. 20, 1790. 
*' SIR, 

** Could you be sensible of my state of 
mind for some months past, I am persuaded 
you would pardon my addressing you in this 
manner. By the arbitrary custom of society, 
I know our sex is prohibited the liberty 
which is allowed to yours; that of speaking 
without reserve, and freely communicating 
our sentiments to those we love. Delicacy, 
constitutes the chief ornament of the female, 
and that ornament I am determined always 
to retain* To you, however, I franUy con- 
fess that I have' been gready mbtaken, as to 
the radical parts of female delicacy; and thro' 
an affected modesty, have been led to act in 
a manner which did t^ no means become me* 
What I at that time called modesty, I now 
without any hesitation term rudeness. Free- 
ly, and from my heart I say, I have treated 
you unkindly; and I did violence to my own 
feelings in (k)ing so.' I have been taUght to 
believe that an acknowledginentof our faults 
is an honourable act: and confiding atf I do, 
ia your discernment, I believe you will res- 
pect me for the confession. You have often 
urged me to tell you whether I would con- 
sent to be yours. I now candidly avow that 
I did then, have ever since, and still continue 
to esteem you, more than I do any other man 
on eaith. Believe me, sir, it has cost me 
much to make my pen reveal the language of 
my heart: but I have at length gained a 
complete conquest, and will speak out. I have 
never, in all my past life, and my heart tells 
me that I can never love another but your- 
self. And if I must be so unhappy as not to 
regain your affections, I religiously vow nev- 
er to give my heart to another. Be so kind, 
sir, as to let me hear from you soon. 

** May God watch over you for good, com- 
mand his holy angels to pitch their tents 
about your bed, and guard your pillow when 
vou sleep. And if you mmt be the compan- 
ion of another, may she, while Alvira is 
cursed for her folly, be U^wd with your 
company and conversation, and do as much 
to promote your happiness as I should have 
endeavoured to do, nad it been my lot to 
meet in you the same ever-during love, that 
is indulged towards you, bv 

' " ALVIRA. 

'*♦ To Theophilus.'* 

From the above letter, it appears that Al- 
vira was noi|r completely cured of her af- 
fected modesty; and viewed her past conduct 



to TheophUtts in its proper light. Herac- 
knowledgmentto him, was quite equal to any 
thing he could reasonably have expected, or 
desired. And sheoleclared moreover, in an 
unequivocal manner, her warm attachment 
to him, with her full determination never to 
change her mind on that subject — ^that, dio' 
he should eventually become the con^Mmion 
of another, she would still continue to nour- 
ish her affecdon for him; and nodiing but 
death, should ever extinguish the flame that 
was kindled in her heart. Unhappy fair 
one! she yet retained one fatal errour: an cr- 
rour, which, although it ought not to have 
diminished her respectability, in the opinion 
of Theophilus, yet in the event, proved fatal 
to her; and has, in many other cases poison- 
ed the fountain, from which the streams of 
life flow — an errour, which is alas! too com- 
mon with both sexes: especially with those 
young people, who are but litde acquainted 
with men, m real life — ^have been much con- 
versant with novels and romsoices, and have 
from thence learned to believe, that no one 
can love but once; so that being disappointed 
in their first and earliest love, they have giv- 
en over all hope of happiness in this life, and 
sometimes, from a false notion of chasti^ (a 
notion which is naturally produced by die 
errour just mentioned,) drag out the remsun- 
ing part of their lives in celibacy. And from 
hence it is, that we have among us so many 
mopish, sour old maids, and crusty, snarling 
batchelors; the male and female drones of 
society: who having, as they suppose, missed 
their fellows on the road of life, nave on that 
account, determined to make the remaining 
part of their days as miserable as possible. 

Theophilus, after he had received this 
frank and ample acknowledgment from Al- 
vira, would, beyond all doubt, have returned 
to her again^ had he not during the time of 
his absence from her, contracted an acquaint- 
ance with the gende and pious Lucretia.— 
Though this acquaintance had, as yet, pro- 
duced nothing more on his part, than a vir- 
tuous friendship, he nevertheless felt himself 
more attached to her than to Alvira. And 
he did not, as many other young men do, feel 
himself at liberty to break off a virtuous and 
friendly correspondence with Lucretia, with- 
out some just cause. Alvira's concessions 
therefore came too late, to have the effect she 
intended. She had overstaid the fit and prop- 
er time, and her acknowledgements could not 
now be received widi honour, on the part of 
Theophilus. 

Thus it often happens with youth. The 
honest dictates of the heart are stifled by the 
tyrant custom, some false notion of honour, 
or silly pride, until a disclosure of the real 
sentiments of the soul comes too late— till 
the halcyon days of felicity are past and gone 
forever, and the stormy, blustermg, and chil- 
ly season of autumn, dire harbinger of dreary 
winter, succeeds to the w^m and cheering 
rays of the summer's sun. My children be 
wise : let no favourable opportunity of im- 
proving your temporal or eternal interest, 
pass by unimproved; for when once the pro- 
pitious season is past, it is then as completely 
gone as the years beyond the flood. Alas ! 
how many of the chddrcn of our &Ikn pa* 



rents, will at last lulopt the language of the 
mourning prophet: " The harvest is past, the 
summer is ended, and we are not saved"-— 
Alarming thought! whidi ought, like a peal 
of thunder, to awaken the dormant faculties 
of that soul, who is saying ^ a litde more 
sleep, a little more shimben*' ** to-morrow 
shall be as to-dav, and much more abundant;" 
while the Angel of Death may l>e at die door, 
caBiog to him, ^ thou fool, this nigl^ thy 
soal may be required of diee." 
(To be continued. J 



Selected from the Adventurer. 

>Ioravere suis nrni retpondere fivorem 
t|[uxutiuii meriti t * . ■ Hoe. 

Eaih inl/ itiurmVing at the unequal meed, 
He|>ines that merit should rewanl exceed. 

Perhaps there is not any word in the lan- 
guage less understood than Honour ; and 
bui few that might not have been equally 
miitaken, without producing equal mischict. 
Honour is both a motive and an end : as 
a principle of action it differs firom virtue 
oi^ in degree, and therefore, necessarily 
inaudes it, as generosity includes justice : 
ani as a reward, it can be deserved only by 
thise actions which no other principle can 
pr^ucu. To say of another that he is a 
Mm of Honour, is at once to attribute the 
priiciple and to confer the reward. But in 
th< common acceptation of the word, Ho- 
noftr as a principle, does not include virttie; 
an| therefore as a reward, is frequently 
bettowed upon vice. Such indeed, is the 
brndness and vassalage of human reason, 
th^ men are discouraged from virtue by the 
fesr of shame, and incited to vice by the 
hoje of honour. 

(t>nour indeed,is always claimed inspe cious 
terns; but the facts upon which the claim is 
foifided, arc often flagitiously wicked. JLo- 
th^o arrogates the character of a man of 
ho our, for having defended a lady, who 
ha| put herself under his protection, from 
ins lit at the risk of life: and Aleator for ful- 
fill ig an engagement, to. which the law 
w( lid not have obliged him, at the expense 
of ibert\% But the champion of the lady 
ha first seduced her; and to preserve 
he] from the resentment of her husband, 
ha< killed him in a duel: and the mar- 
tyi to his promise, had paid a sum which 
sh< lid have discharged the bill of a nece&si- 
toi tradesman, to a gamester of quality who 
ha given him credit at cards. 

Uch, in the common opinion, are men of 
ho ^ur; and he who in certain circumstances 
sh lid abstain from murder, pei'fidy, or in- 
gn itude, would be avoided as reflecting 
ini my upon his company. 

I these speculations I exhausted my wak- 
inj powers a few nights ago; and at t^gtfa 
sii ing into slumber, I was immediately 
tn sported into the regions of fancy. 

.8 I was sitting pensive and alone at die 
of a hill, a num, whose appeiutmce was 
imely venerable, advanced towaixls me 
^eat speed; and, beckoning me to fbl- 
hxm, began hastily to climb the hilL-^ 
mind suddenly suggestedi tbac tiis \ 



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185 



the genius of Instruction: I therefore, in- 
stantly rose up^ and obeyed the silent intima- 
tion of his will: but not being able to ascend 
with equal rapidity, he cai\ght hold of my 
hand, ** Linger not,** said he, ** lest the hour 
of illumination be at an end." We now 
ascended together, and when we had gained 
the summit he stood still. " Survey the 
prospect,'' said he, ** and tell me what thou 
seest.** ** To the right," replied I, " is a 
long valley, and on the left a boundless plain: 
at Uie ena of the valley is a mountain that 
reaches to the clouds^ and on the summit a 
brightness which I cannot yet stedfastly be- 
hold." " In that vaBey,'* said he, " the; dis- 
ciples of Virtue press forward; and the ,vo- 
taries of Vice wander on the plain. In the 
path oi Virtue are many asperities: the foot 
IS sometimes woimded by 'thorns, and some- 
times bruised against a stone; but the sky 
over it is always serene; the traveller is re- 
' freshed by the breezes of health, and invig- 
orated by the ray of cheerfulness. The plain 
is adorned with flowers, which gratify the 
sense with fragrance and beauty; but the 
beau^ is transient, and the fragrance hurt- 
fiil: tne ground is soft and level; and the 
paths are so various, that the turf is no where 
worn away: but above is perpetual gloom; 
the sun is not seen, nor the breeze felt; the 
air stagnates, and pestilential vapours diffuse 
drowsiness, lassitude and anxiety. At the 
foot of the mountain «re the bowers of 
Peace, and on the summit is the temple of 
Honour. 

But all the disciples of Virtue do not 
ascend the mountain: her path, indeed, is 
continued beyond the bowers; and the last 
stage is the ascent of the precipice: to climb 
b the voluntary labour of the vigorous and 
the bold; to desist, is the irreproachable re- 

Eosc of the timid and the weary. To those 
owever, who have surmounted the difficul- 
ties of the way^ the gates of the temple have 
not always been opened; nor against those 
by whom it has never been trodden, have 
they always been shut: the declivity of the 
mountain on the other side, is gradual and 
easy; and by the appointment of fate, the 
entrance of the temple of Honoiur has been 
always kept by Opinion. Opinion, indeed, 
ought to nave acted under the influence of 
Truth; but was soon perverted by Prejudice 
and Custom : she admitted many who as- 
cended die mountain without laoour from 
the plain, and rejected some who had toiled 
W the precipice in the path of Virtue. 
These however, were not clamorous for ad- 
mittance; but either repined in silence, or 
txuhing with honest pride in the conscious- 
ness of their own dignity, turned from Opi- 
nion with contempt and disdain; and smiled 
upon the world which they had left beneath 
them, the witness of that labour of which 
they had been refused the reward. 

But the crowd within the temple became 
discontented and tumultuous: the disciples 
of Virtue, jealous of an eminence which 
they had obtained by the utmost efforts of 
hifman power, made some attempts to ^el 
those who bad Strolled negligently up the 
slope, and been admitted by Opihion to pol^ 
lute the temple and disgrace nie assembly; 



those whose right was disputed, were, how- 
ever, all ready to decide the controversy by 
the sword; and as they dreaded scarce any 
imputation but cowardice, they treated those 
with great Insolence who declined this de- 
cision, and vet would not admit their claim. 
This confusion and uproar was beheld by 
the Goddess with indmiation and regret: 
she flew to the throne ofjupiter, and casting 
herself at his feet, * Great nikr of the 
world,' said she, ' if 1 have erected a* tem- 
ple to fulfil the purposes of thy wisdom and 
thy love, to allure mortals up the steep of 
Virtue, and animate them to communicate 
happiness at the expense of life; let it not be 
perverted to render vice presumptuous, nor 
possessed by those who dare to perish in the 
violation of thy laws, and the dimision of ca- 
lamity.' Jupiter graciously touched the 
Goddf ss with his sceptre, and replied^ * that 
the appointment of fate he could not reverse; 
that admission to her temple must stiH de- 
pendupon Opinion; but that hd would de- 
pute Reason to examine her conduct, and, if 
?>ssible, put her again under the influence of 
ruth.' 

Reason, therefore, in obedience to the com- 
mand ofjupiter, descended upon the moun- 
tain of Honour, and entered the temple. At 
the first appearance of Reason contention was 
suspended, and the whole assembly became 
silent with expectation: but the moment she 
revealed her commission, Ae tumult was re- 
newed with yet greater violence. All were 
equally confident, that Reason would estab- 
lish the determination of Opinion in their fa- 
vour; and he that spoke loudest, hoped to be 
first heard. Reason knew, that those only 
had a right to enter the temple, who ascended 
by the path of Virtue; to determine, there- 
fore, who should be expelled or received, 
nothing more seemed necessary, than to dis- 
cover by which avenue Aey had access ; but 
Reason herself found this discovery, howev- 
er easy in speculation, very difficult in effect. 

The most flagitious affirmed, that if they 
had not walked the whole length of the valley, 
they came into it at the fck)t of the mountain; 
and that at least the path by which they had 
ascended it, was the path of virtue. This 
was eagerly contradicted by others; and, to 
prevent the tedious labour of deducing truth 
from a great variety of circumstances, Opin- 
ion was called to decide the question. 

But it soon appeared, that Opinion scarce 
knew one path from the other; and that she 
neither determined to admit or refuse upon 
certain principles, or with discriminating 
knowledge. Reason, however, still tostinued 
to examine her; and, that she might judge of 
the credibility of her evidence by the account 
she would give of a known character, asked 
her,which side of the mountain was ascended 
by the Macedonian who deluged the worid 
with blood: she answered without hesitatitm, 
* The side of Virtue; that she knew she was 
not mistaken, because she saw him in the 
path at a great distance, and remarked that 
no man had ever ascended with such intpetu- 
ous speed.' As Reason knew this account 
to be false, she ordered Opinion to be dis- 
missed, and proceeded to a more particular 
examination of the pa^rties themselves. 



Reason found the accounts of many to be 
in the highest degree extravagant and absurd: 
some, as a proof of their having climbed the 
pitfh oC Virtue, described prospects that ap- 
peared from the opposite side of the hioun- 
tain ; and others affirmed, that the bath was 
smooth and level, and that many haa walked 
it without stumbling when they were scarce 
awakft, and others when they were intoxica- 
ted with wine.' 

Upon the foreheads of all these. Reason 
impressed a mark of reprobation: and as she 
could not expel them without the cou<;ur- 
rence of Opinion, she delivered theiti over to 
Time, to whom she knew Opinion had al- 
ways paid great deference, and who had ge- 
nerally been a friend to Truth. 

Time was commanded to use his influence 
to procure their expulsion, and to persuade 
Opinion to regulate her determinations by 
the judffment of Truth. Justice also decreed, 
that if she persisted to execute her office with 
negligence and caprice, imder the influence 
of Prejudice, ana in concurrence with the 
i^Murdities of Custom, she should be given 
up to Ridicule, a remorseless being who re- 
joices in the anguish which he inflicts: by him 
alone Opinion can be punished; at the sound 
of his scourge she trembles with apprehen- 
sion; and whenever it has been applied b}' 
the direction of Justice, Opinion has alwa^'s 
become obedient to Truth. 

Time, continued my instnicter, still la- 
bours to fulfil the COTiunand of Reason: but 
though he has procured many to be expelled 
who had been admitted, yet he has gained 
admission for but few whohad been rejected; 
and Opinion still continues negligent and 
penreffSje; for as she hits ofbn felt the scourge 
of Ridicule when it has not been deserved, 
the dread of it has no otherwise influenced 
her conduct, than by throwing her into such 
confusicm, that the purposes of Reason are 
sometimes involuntarily defeated.'' 

*♦ How then,'' said I, " shall Honour dis- 
tinguish those whom she wishes to reward?" 
**They shaU be distinguished," replied the 
visionary sage, ^^ in the regions of Immorta- 
lity; to which they will at length be conduct- 
ed by Time, who will not sufier them to be 
finalfy disappointed." 

M^ile I was listening to this reply, with 
my eyes fixed steadfastly upon the temple, it 
suddenly disappeared — the black doiuls that 
hovered over the jdain of Vice burst in thun- 
der; the hill OB which I stood began to sink 
under me; and the start of sudden terrour as 
I descended awaked me. 



A SCRAP. 

The first auel fought in New- England, 
according to Morse and Parish, was between 
two servant^ with sword and dagger. Both 
were wounded, neither of them mortally. — 
They were tried bj'^ the colony and sentenced 
** to have their heads and feet tied together^ 
and to remain twenty-four hours without 
meat or drinkJ*^ We suspect this mode of 
punishment would be a much more effectual 
preventative of the practice of duelling, than 
any now in fashion. 



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:?= 



rOB TBS ftVKAL VISITSft. 

AfatherU tetter to a daughter ^ who resided a 
feiv weeks in a scolding farrdly* 

The foU ti ri ay ittttr was writttn % few jtnxt tsfh ^ 
aatwcr <uie from tlie ditti(hter» who vety iii(elU^uit- 
1/ observed, that in a scoUing, biistUng, and noisy 
house, the meek, atiU, and small voice of the divine 
Spbit and hiwatd Teacher, couid not be propcrl/ at- 
tended to, nor heard in the *' whirlwind, the fir€, or 
the amoke^ embtois of those passions, which mnst 
be subdued In ourselves, before we can be properijr 
qualified to subdue them in others/* 

The last half centuiy has made great «d^ 
vances in education: IVluch has been wntten 
on the subject^ both to direct the mode and 
supp^ the means* Perhaps the Spectator 
first took th9 lead in giving vivacity ai^ im« 
pressive energy, to vsduabie lessons of rdi- 
^on and mondity in an easy and familiar 
wajr. Excited by^ his success, many sreat 
geniuses have followed the example of en« 
deavouring to discredit vice, to expose folly 
in its proper point of view, to pwit inhuma- 
nity and crudty in their true cdours; and to 
recommend virtue as the source of all human 
' happiness.. They represent the great pma^ 
ments of society, and loundation ofdomestick 
felicity to be true taste, enlightened senti- 
ments, and benevolence of disposition. Au'- 
thors in this mpde of writing are numerous ; 
but the more eminent are Jolmson, Hawkes- 
worth,, Shenstone, Laoghome, Seed, Mel- 
moth, Harris, Cotton, Roberts, Goldsmith, 
Hunter, BUur, Beattie, Gregory, Percival, 
Knox, Atkin, Ogilvie, Scott, Gisboume, and 
of honourable women, not a few; as Carter, 
Chapone, Barbauld^ Griffith, Moore^ Wil- 
liams, Hamilton, &(c« By these means, refin- 
ed literature has been advanced to an emi- 
nent degree of improvement: and who can 
doubt that the manners of private life and so- 
cial order have been, in consequence, equally 
benefited* A good English style has been 
familiarized: religious and civil differences, 
reconciled : and perhaps it has been much 
owing to such writings, that the severity of 
the laws are ameliorated, greatly to the hon- 
our of such generous wojthies as have^ been 
immediately engaged in it. 

In the great work of reforming die errours 
of mankind, surely Addison, and those who 
succeeded him, deserve greatly the thanks^f 
posterity; because they have written in such 
a way, that their works will be universally 
and highly approved, by diose who are likely 
to become persons of much notoriety and 
rank among mankind; and whose sentiments 
and examples will be the most extensively 
diffused, and impressive. They are of such 
a^ulk, and so classified as to claim a separate 
rank in literature; and, with ^ery few ex- 
ceptions, are become the imdi^fntid standard 
of good writing, both as to sentiment and 
-style. 

There are other writers who have confined 
themselves tp particular subjects, and are yet 
somewhat ot the same class : as Thompson, 
his Seasons; Cowper, his Task; Wilberforce's 
view of Christianity; Hayley*s triumphs of 
Temper; Hunter's Sacred Biography. As 
all the works of men originate in a mind di- 
recting them, the formation of sentiments in 
that min^l, becomes a matter of great conse- 



quence. Widows being burnt alive with 
their dead husbands among the Hindoos, ap- 
pears irreconcilable to the feelings of human 
nature; yet some customs that prevailed in 
Eiu-ope a few centuries past, were quite as 
cmel, and some yet remain in England not 
much less so. But comparing what remain 
with what are done away, would show diat 
manners in general are much altered for the 
better. 

It is certain that women have much to do 
in the subject of education. If none but pro- 
per impressions were made on the tender 
minds of children, while they principally re- 
main imder the cso^ of their mothers, it 
would have a lastipg good efiect. 

Love and fear are die best foundation for 
the support of a well regulated authority: but 
which of them should be chiefly depended 
upon for the ptopose, is the question. Those 

Events who are always in an ill humour, or 
ehave as if they were, can scarcely be loved: 
but those who maintain a steady uniformity 
in the prudent exercise of a kind disposition 
towartis their children, are the most likely to 
be both feared «md obeyed. The proper 
management of die temper, and a right ap- 
plication of suitable means to conduct the ed- 
ucation of a family of young children, de- 
mand great ingenuity^ a steady, constant at* 
tendon, and presence of mind. Thus much 
I have remarked; that women who do not 
make much noise themselves, 2sxi. who fret 
and box the least, have the quietest families: 
and that the contrary, produce and keep up 
a continual uproar, implant the same temper 
fhthe children, andmake the infirmity ne- 
reditary. What advantage would it be to 
such a woman, so troubled with a house full 
of bad children, if she had all the classicks, 
both ancient and modem, by rote ? Would 
that have been a means of preserving her 
from getting into such an errour; or of helping 
her out when she was led imperceptibly into 
the midst of it? Bad habits are easily learned, 
and good ones might be acquired by study 
and application; and the consequences of neg- 
lect caU loudly for diligence in the acquisition 
of good ones. 

Perhaps an illustration may render my 
meaning plainer* A person wishing to mess 
his horse, takes water in his bucket in one 
hand, and meal in a vessel in the other. The 
beast being hungry, crowds on his heels; he 
strikes him a severe blow on the nose with 
his fist; the horse s*aits back suddenly, and 
the water in the fray is spilt, and the meal 
thrown about — the bridle being over his arm 
the man is thrown down with such a twist 
that his shoulder is dislocated. Such is the 
consequence — and what was the cause I It 
might be the quickness and severity of the 
stroke. And whet was the cause of that? It 
mightbe a rude ar.d passionate temper, which 
might be caused by his mother saying so of- 
ten " Sam, I will kiqk you over if vou do not 
get out of my way — wny ! the boy s a fo<d!— 
stand o' one^s side." When such language 
as this i^ often repeated, what boy can love a 
moUier? What mother can have meek child- 
ren? The child leains to bawl too, whenever 
he speaks in the authoritative style; and not 
being informed better, he acquires a habit of 



issuing his orders in a magisterial maimer, 
and through mere ignorance is not ashamed 
of his rudeness* 

^ery<— Are not gh'ls often more diaa 
half spoiled in this way, or some way nearly 
simihir? A SPECTATOR. 



SELECTED^ 

Beware how you throw awajf a certainiy/br 
an uncertainty. 

Ned Changeling was a thrifty farmer, and 
mi^t have been so at this time, had he been 
contented and stuck to his business. But one 
day, as he was musing in the field, unluckiljs 
thoughts of this kind popped inu> his head.— 
^^ What signifies it to be toiling and moiling 
^^ liere like an emmet^ when I might get mo- 
^^ ney faster with half the pains. Besides this 
^^ farm, I have five hundred ddlarft in cash, 
" and owe nobody. Son Tommy-is a spright- 
^^ ly lad, and can read and write, a^d cast up 
^^ accounts* He would rather be behind the 
^ countei: than at the plough; and it might be 
" the making of him. 'Tis resolved: I will 
^^ ffo into trade. What then? Shall I sell my 
^^ tarm ? No, I will hold fast to that« and so 
" shall have two strings to my bow.'* 

Away goes Ned to town, and buys goods, 
and (being a careful man, and not willing to 
run into needless expenses) he fits up a part 
of his dwelling house for a store. The trade 
ope^s, and the neighbours flock in, some to 
buy and some to visit. His dear ^ help meet,' 
a good sort of woman, but a litde upishly in- 
clined, is highly pleased. His daughters too 
(for he had several, some grown and others 
growing up) are all mightily pleased.—- The 
goods happened to be ill chosen, and divers 
articles were unsaleable. But 'tis the handiest 
thing in the world, especially when there is a 
large and tasty family, to have a store in one's 
own house; for it helps one to furnish his 
household with soft raiment, his table with 
nicknacks, and his rooms in a manner a little 
splendid — and to do it all in his way. 

Well, the wheel of business turns and 
turns, till, what with liberal customers at 
home, and what with trusting out, andreceiv- 
ing promises for cash, the goods are mosdy 
disposed of. The five hundred d(^ars gone, 
a larg^ debt contracted to boot, and no means 
of payment, no money in the chest. What 
next? The farm is mortgaged. New credit 
is obtained, and the store is replenished again. 
For Ned« as well as his wife, has ambitiofiy 
and both are sore loath to shut up shop; be- 
cause that would set the neighbours a talk' 
ing, you know. — Things now work as before. 
The farm goes at last; and all not enough ta 
p^ the debts. 

Is this a solitary case? No, it has been so 
with scores and with hundreds in our coun- 
try. Reader, a word of advice whispered ia 
your ear. If you have a farm, or a trade, by 
whith you can make an honest livelihoodi 
andean yearly lay up a litde-.-stidc to it— « 
for If you leave it for something eke, great 
' is tke odds that you make a losing bargaioi 
* and repent when it is too late. ' 



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8ELSCTED FOR THE RURAL VISITER* 
AN «' IRISH LAMENTATION." 

^WAS a ni^t cUd with moonbeams, bespangled with 

dewt 
Nor did silence, nif ht^ centinel, challenge a sound. 
Each bree:K seem'd to si^h and to sooth, as it flewi 
Twas an harvest for feelingi twas Eden arovnds 
When the wild plaintive notes of a harp floated by. 
And awoke sleeping echo, their strains to prolong; 
n*was an harp tnnM by woe, for a tear, for a sigh. 
It was Carolan^s harp, Erin's *• son of the song." 

It was harmonj*s self, on the wings of the breezei 
Her sweet notesconld appeise e*en the pang of distress; 
They were notes, that could charm from the mind its 

disease^ 
When defrauded by grief of the joys we caress; 
Of that peace I oft seek throogh the glen and the 

glade, 
Whose silence and gloom are propitious to thought; 
Where I mournfully muse on my jOys that fast fade, 
And the hours that approach me with trouble fiUl 
iraaght. 

** Sweetest song of my mother, once more shall thy 

Aote 
In a phraazy of rapture be poured from my soul; 
And my sighs with thy musick together shall float. 
While the concert of grief thro' the welkin shall rolt 

Ah my mother! no longer the lengthening thread 

Shall be measured along by the chant of thy lay ; 

But the aong^ of thy heart shall ne'er sleep with 
the dead. 

While the piilse of a true son of Erin shall play,** 

Thus the hard; while he tun'd, to the giief of his hearty 

The harp that np lilt to the dance e'er did twang; 

Its vibrations no ** Gaily O" e'er dkl impart; 

It was sacicd to sorrow and sorrow it sang. 
From his tongue while in notes of wild woe roird 

' away 
The *' Irish complaint for the loss of their locks;** 
His fingers in sympathy thrill'd the lorn lay, 
While the anthem in echoes roll'd over the rocks* 

" TeOales, that in sport with those locks did eAgage, 
Which truanted loose o'er the necks of the fair. 
Until gather'd by Time from the temples of Age, 
Ye zephyrs, breathe not, for no ringlets are there. 

Let the foui winds, that rage o'er the bog and the 
fern. 

Howl hollow the dirge of our liberty lost ; 

Hope weeps at the foot of the Irishman's urn, 

While de4>aur the ascendant o'er Erin does boast. 

Ye liQies, ye rosea, ye violets, die! 
The dew-drop a tear to your beauty shall prove; 
Ye birds of rich plumage and note, cease to fly; 
And ye maids, and ye swains, and ye friends, cease to 
love. 

Let the tear be rhe dew-drop's companion each hour, 

And out-number the rain-drops of showery May; 

Weep, Spirit of Erm, the loss of your power! 

Twas fih:b'd by the chieftains of Albion away. 

No more shall the lute its gay symphonies pour 
On the ear of the eve, while in mazes of mirth, 
Escb swain with his Irish giri spends the sweet hour. 
And each joy, is it dies, gives a kindred joy birth. 
No more e'er shall Hymen's pure torch throw 



blaze, 



its 
viase, , 

On the steps of youth, tripping to nuptials of love; 
The altar that sanctions their joys we will raze, 
And each heart shall alone o'er life*s wilderness rove. 

The wave, dmt ottoe dash'd upon Erin's bold shore, 
Wash'd the freest, most noble, fair isle of the main. 
But the breath of the breeze nor the hurricane*s roar 
Shall be breath'dnor be roar*d o'er such freedom again; 
'Till the genius of Ireland shall wake from the grave. 
Where AlbiOn*s proud robbers have doom'd it to 

rest, 
And the Irish shall spurn the foul epithet-—' Slave,' 
And.each heart throb for FREEDOM, our nataie's 
behest." 



Oiwrvfliwn.— -Truth is generaHf seen more 
dcarljr by coatrast. 



The improvement exhibited in the annex- 
ed sketch of a Six Plate Stove, having been 
adopted at the Cion School, and other places 
in Burlington, to satisfaction, is recommend- 
ed to the publick : the principle on which 
the alteration is made, being appliable to the 
construction of stoves in general. 

References to Fig. IL 

Supposing the side of the stove toward us 
to be op^n, the black lines shew the visible 
parts within, and the dots their continuations, 

A« An iron pipe, ran up a few inches into 
the pipe-hole of the stove, and reaching down 
to within about 3 inches of the bottom; sup- 
ported by 2 or 3 small legs rivetted tb the 
pipe, as at O* 

B. B. A piece of pretty thick sheet-iron 
(enclosing the pine on 3 sides) extending 
across the stove, tnence on both sides to the 
back plate, and rising to within 2 1-2 or 3 in- 
ches of the top plate; the grate to fill the re- 
maining space between that and the door. 

By this cheap means, the heated air from 
the nre-place, ismade to pass over the enclos- 
ing plate, and to descend to the bottom (or 
mouth) of the inserted pipe, before it can es- 
cape upward to the funnel: which detention 
of the heat gives the stove the advantage in- 
tended; with, probably, not much more than 
one third of the fuel used before the altera- 
tion. 

Fig. I. Serves merely to suggest for con- 
sideration, whether an additional plate (of the 
form described) reaching from the top of the 
enclosing plate (A) to the fore-part of the 
stove, add having a hole in it about 6 or 8 in- 
ches long and 4 wide near (e) for carr>ing 
off the smoke, would not be a further im- 
provement. 



SOJOURNER 

No. XI. 

"Love your enemies,'* said Christ. "Love 
your enemies, bless them that curse you, do 
good to them that hate you, and pray for them 
that despitefuUy use you, and persecute you.*^ 
'Tis a blessed injunction— would that nations 
and individuals, Christians at least, would 



manifest the 



of their belief in 



Christ, by an adherence to the practice iu« 



smcenty 
\y an adherenc 
culcated by this best of precepts; that so, 
when the day of/trouble came, they might 
neither be afraid nor adiamed; but be a£le 
indeed to look up as the children of him who 
" causeth hb sun to rise on the evil, and on 
.tbe good$ and sendeth rain on the just, and 
on the unjust." *^ Love your enemies.''^. 
Alas ! ** It is a hard saying-^who cart bear 
itJ" Who but those whose treasure is m hea- 
ven; who have nothing here of consequence 
to lose l No man can be reconciled to htm 
wHq has the power and the wiU^ to deprive 
him of that in which he chiefly deliglits.-*- 
Love cannot exist with slavish fear. — ^The 
miser, whose heart is in his bags, who dreads 
nothing so much as the loss of property, of 
whom " Gold is the God, the wife, the 
friend**— he cannot possibly forgive tlie man 
who shall fraudulently or forcibly reduce him 
to pover^:— Jie cannot obey die injunction, 
" Love your enemies*" 

The ambitious man, the man who holds 
nothing so dear or so excellent as die praise 
of men, whose whole desire is to become po- 
pular, to obtain honours and preferments 
amonff his fellow^creatures-— how can he for- 
give the man who shall defame his character, 
or who shall even speak the truA of him, if 
truth stand in the way of his advancement? 
He cannot surely ** bless them that curse" 
him. 

The coxcomb, the vain empty man, who 
prides himself in his dress and in his figure, 
who depends for comfort on a thousand 
amusements, and who has nothing in his own 
mind to support him in the hour of solitude 
and i>eflection— .^f^ goods also, are at the dis- 
posal of a capricious world— /i^ cannot " love 
his enemies." 

"Blessed" then indeed " are the poor in 
spirit," who are but sojourners in this world; 
this vale of tears, where " all is vanity and 
vexation of spirit:" or ratfier who are but as 

Eilgrims passing through it, having their 
opes beyond it, and their eyes fixed steadily 
on the end of the race. Thetr treasure none 
can spoil. These can forgive, these can pity, 
these may even " love their enemies." 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

Late as jrotir piper met xtij ansiovs vfev, 

And oV its page a hasty ^ance I threw, 

In search of something to amuse a«vhile 

Midst such a medly— -and such various style«*- 

But judge, good sir, my very great surprise 

When " Monitor*' *s oijecthn caught my eyes; 

He thinks your paper too amusing now. 

And memfs the fault he very well knows how. 

Woman— the object of your writers' care 

And all unite in cautions to the fair, 

To educate us hint on hint they drop. 

So pleased to advise they know not where to stop: 

For our inr^provement nothing they omit, 

Thttr own defects they fail not to forget: 

First the Recorder*s darling theme— at bftt 

A thread bare subject somewhat like (he reat; 

Surely some gratitude 'tis ours to'pay. 

Some ^ro^ their labours are not thrown away. 

Their pious eflTorts teach us to discern 

The studied lesson we are taught to learn 

Demand at least a lesson in return;— 

Then for the future let it be their care 

To amend themBclves, snd leave us ai we are. 



PATTT. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



FOR THB RURAL VISITSR* 

THE FIRST KISS OF LOVE. 

Oh Miy, docs my Delia the moment remember. 
When fifRt 1 imprinted such kisses as these? 

The evening sun shone on the face of September^ 
And the ripe upples hong from the low bending ticw. 

Through the orchards we strayM, 'twas an Eden to me, 
The green turf was wet with the fast fallirig dew; 

When high and alone, on a belle -flow'r tree. 
An apple hung, temptingly waving to view* 

I saw the wish rise, as the breeze shook it o'er you, 
And beard you half murmur, how sweet it must be; 

In a moment I pUck'd it, and dropt it before you, 
And followed, all wounded and torn, from i4ie tree. 

But whh what a look! how delightful you taught me, 
To fix the soft seal of affection and bliss; 

All blushing and faint, to my bosom I caught thee. 
And, trembling, imprinted love's Erst melting kiss. 

And to me, since that hour, the evening sun never. 
Has set on a day of afilkrtion or sdrrow; 

But joys, free from care, winging moments forever, 
And love weaves with hope, the iair scenes of to« 
morrow* 

Oh blest be the day, may the ftpple be blest. 

That stole the soft tale of affection from thee; 
And though death, by its taste, on the world was im- 
prest. 
It open'd the gates of Elysium to me. 

H. W. 



TOR THB RURAL VtSITRR. 

On seeing some lines, written by Dr. Young, on his 
viewing a piece of painting (viz. the crucifixion of 
our Saviour) done by Michael Angelo, who was per- 
mitted, for the purpose of catching the expressions 
of pain, to treat at be pUated^ a malefactor con- 
demned to be broken on the wheel ! 

Curst art! curst Artist! if by means like these 

The art advances, or the Artist's fame.— 

A poor bequest to leave t^ injured world. 

Of finest arts, the finest workmanship. 

If at the expense^of Mercy, of which hb. 

The world's Redeemer, an example lived. 

And in his latest hours bequeathed the guilty. 

Did he not seek his persecutors' good? 

«* Father forgive< they know not what they do."— 

«* O glorious theft!" say rather «« Hellish deed!** 

What can Hell's annals yield, which Earth's cannot? 

A nd thou, O Young! why didst thou thus preserve. 

In one small page, in numbers so relaxed, 

A deed that should have roused thy utmost ire^ 

Faintly thou censur'st, if not even approv^t! 



Communicated by a Friend for The Rural 
Visiter. 

EFFECTUAL CURE FOR THE STONE. 

The gentleman by whose consent, and desire, and 
upon whose authority the subsequent facts Rre offered 
to the publick, is a Mr. Richard Major, of Loudon 
County, Virginia, Minister of the Gospel in the Bap- 
tist Society i a man of integrity and much respected. 
Being in company with him some days ago, I had the 
fJlowing relation from, his own mouth s— 

Having for a number of years been afflicted with this 
painful disease, he was at length informed that a cer- 
tain physician, his name unknown, laboured tmder the 
same complaint. Being at Berkley Springs, a negro 
man there proffered lo cure him ; this he at first dis- 
regarded; but expecting a s|)eedy dissolution, unless 
some aid could be obtained, he afterwards sent for the 
negro, who agreed to cure him for three pounds i he 
accordingly undertook, and an a short time, effectually 
eradicated the disorder. The physk^ian then offered 
him his freedom if he would disclose the meaits of the 
cure, to which the slave agreed. The receipt is, the 
expressed juice of horse mint and red onions « one giU 
of each, to be taken every morning and evening till 
the complaint be removed- Mr. Major being urged 
to submit to a trial of it within one week had occular 
demonstration of its dissolution by the slightest touch. 



of R particle that had passed from himi which contin- 
ued so to do without pain or the'least obstruction until 
the stone was entirely dissolved; and without the 
slightest attack of the complaint, from the time be 
b^n to take the means prescribed. This, at his re- 
quest, is communicated with great pleasure to the 
publick. 



TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

Jrhn^yuiift'-^nd Zelia are received. 

We request as a particular favour, that the ladies 
will not be so studious in eluding all possibility of a dis« 
covery, by disguising their huids in rach a manner, 
that really, *tis almost impossible to decypher thenn; 
and we are fearful of making some material errours in 
their effusions— assuring them at the same time, the 
rute is quite needless; for we are sorry to confess, that 
unless they deposite with us a specimen of their hand 
writing, we should be unable to recognise it a second 
time, even in its native garb. 



EPHEMERIS. 



March. 


O.M. 


r Son rifes. 


Sun sets. 


H.Water 


4th week. 


H. M. 


H, M. 


Burling. 


1st day, 


^ 


5 56 


6 4 


2 S5 


2d day, 


25 


5 54 


6 6 


3 49 


3d day. 


26 


5 53 


6 7 


443 


4th day. 


27 


5 52 


6 8 


5 37 


5th day, 


28 


5 50 


6 10 


6 29 


6th day, 
rth day, 


29 


5 49 


6 11 


722 


30 


5 48 


6 12 


8 12 



INTELLIGENCE. 

DOMBSTICK. 

LIST OF ACTS 

Passed at the Third Session of the Ekventh 
Congress. 

An act to authorize the transportation of certain do- 
cuments free of postage. 

An act to iix the compensation of the additional as- 
sistant post-master general. 

An act for the relief of George Armroyd 8c Co. 

Aa act providing for the final adjustment of chiims 
to land» and for the sale of the publk:k lands in Che 
territories of Orleans and Louisiana. 

An act to continue in force for a further time, the 
first section of the act, entitled " An act further to pro- 
tect the commerce and seamen of the United States 
against the Barbary powers." 

An act making an additional appropriation to sup* 
ply a deficiency in the anpropriation for the relief and 
protection of distressed American seamen, during the 
year 1810. 

An act providing for the removal of the land office 
established at Nashville, in the state of Tennessee, and 
Canton, in the state of Ohio, and to authorize the re- 
gister and receiver of publick monies to stiperintend 
the publick sales of land in the district east of Pearl ri- 
ver, ^ 

An act to enable the people of the territory of Orle- 
ans to form a constitution and state government, and 
for the admission of such state intothe union on an 
equal footing with the original states, and for other 
purposes. 

An act concerning the bank of Alexandria. 

An act to change the name of Lewis Oram to that 
of Lewis Orant Davidson. 

An act making appropriations for the support of 
government for the year 1811. 

An act making appropriations for the support of the 
military establishment for the year 181 L 

An act making appropriations for the support of the 
navy of the United States for the year 181L 

An act to incorporate the bank of Potomack. 

An act to incoiporate the bank of Washington. 

An act to incorporate the subscribers to the Farmer'a 
bank of Alexandria. 

An act for the relief of the heirs of the late major 
general Anthony Wayne, 

An act to incorporate the Union bank of George- 
town. 

An act making compensation to John Eugene Leits- 
endorfer, for his services rendered the U. States in the 
war with Tripoli. 

An act authorizing the discharge of Nathaniel F. 
Fosdick from his imprtsonmeiit. 



An act for the reUef of William MjUs. 

An act to enable the George Town and Potomack 
bridge company to levy money for the object of iu in- 
corporation* 

Aii^^ct making a further distribution of svch Uwi 
of the U. Sutes as respects the ptiblick lands. 

An act providing for the sale of a tract of land lyin| 
in the state of Tennessee, and a tract lying in the In* 
diana territory. 

An act for the reUef of Peter Audrain. 

An act for establishing navy hospitals. 

An act for esuUishing trading houses widi tke In* 
dian tribes. (To be continued.) 



Our Spanish papers from South America* ^ not 
appear to possess much interest. They are oeciqNed 
with skirmishes. Junta and private addresses upon the 
nature and stnicture of governments; some tpocioieis 
of fine writing tending to ehicidate the li iqataie of the 
cotmtry, patriotick donations evhicive of Aie popular 
spirit, some regulations for the advancement of pwick 
schools, &c. The blockade of Monte Video b said to 
be removed, and Peru has at length declared la tvma 
of independence. In short, one gei^cnl inyotflt in fs- 
vour of liberty seems to pervade the wh<»e soiuheni 
hemisphere. 

By the ship Jane, arrived at New-York, ftrpfn Li?, 
erpool, we learn that the Prince of Wales hnd siccept- 
ed the restricted Regency, and was to go in state to 
the House of Lords on the 22d January*-«that % new, 
Whig Ministry had been formed i Lorn HoUvid Pre- 
mier, Grenville secretary of state, Motra ootomander 
in chief, Lansdowne lord lieutenant of Ivdand, kc^— 
that the King was able to walk on his terraoe, bad re- 
gained some faint glimmerings of sight, but it was net 
expected he would ever again exercise the regal ac 
^ority— diat it was probable the Orders in Covncil 
would be rescinded as soon as the Regenqr had got in 
operation. 

Plymouth, Jan. 12— Arrived yesterday, the A- 
merican fri'gate Essex, having been 26 days from 
L'Orient, owing to the heavy gales at East. 

The prince, when he goes down ^ thn home of 
peers as regent, will not ht seated on the throne, bu; 
m a chair of state, one step before it^ wfakh is now 
making for that purpose. 

A detachment of the guards, as well at detachments 
of several regiments of foot, will embark tn^lKooiirse 
of this week, tor Portugal. 

About 150 of the royal artillery drtveta blLve em- 
barked at Portsmouth for Portugal. The detachments 
of the royal waggon train, destined for the snsne place, 
are still waiting at Portsmouth for transpotti. 

London, Jan. 14.— Dutch papers have sirivcd ti 
the second* Constantinople has agiun been the scene 
of disturbance and slaughter. The Janissari^ always 
move hostile to their own government thsm to dkc fo- 
reign enemy, have arain risen, and made a dcipenie 
effort to regain their fotmpt privileges. They Uundcisd 
the Seraglio, foiced the Sultan to retire on ooatd his 
^et, and set fire to a part of tiie city. Troapa, bow- 
ever, arrived firom all quarters to oppose tKeni, and 
after a sanguinary conflict in the streets of Constant}, 
nople, they were forced to yield with the loss ol* 18,000 
men. The official account of these transactions is ac- 
companied with an assurance, under the same aotfao- 
rity, that the n^oHation with Riissia for a peace was 
in the most favoinable train, and that everj disposi- 
tion has been shown to concede the points in dispute. 

The Ann packet, from Cadi?, has brouglrt an ac» 
eoimt of a de^chment of Engttsh seanMn and marines 
having made an attack upon the two foiu of St. Peter, 
which commanded the watering pUoM* whkhtbef 
dwried in the most gallant manner, without loss: one 
Serjeant of marines only wjm wounded. 

From the Charleston Courier^ March 5. 

A letter jreceived by the Cleopatra from B ciwo ds, 
dated the 14th ult. says: *' We have a new^ adminl 
(Sawyer) on this station, who has received acconacs of 
a larj;e naval reenforcement on its way from England 
to join him. I sincerely hope it is not f or wiir ^ X Ittidlj 
think the American govetnmont woukt sv far fnget 
their interest aa to take pan with the tyrant Napo- 
leon." 



DIED— of a pulmonary consumption^ both of this 
city, SUSAN RODMAN, widow of John Rodmas: 
-^nd Mr. JOHN M. H ANCK£L, Prindpal of the 
Buriington Academy, in the 24th year of his age. 



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" Ifomo sum; humanVriihil a me aUenum puto.^ — Man andhh cares to me a man^ are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, FOURTH MONTH (APRIL) l^t, 1811. 



No. 36. 



THE RECORDER. 

No. XXXV. 

pictnm est, iraitandos esse tnajoief ; primam Iliad tt* 
ceptum sit, ne vitia suot imi(^da. 

Cicero. 

A propensity to imitate the manners and 
characters of those with whom we are in ha^ 
bits of intimacy, ^ fof whom we hare an 
exalted respect, is one of those principles in 
our nature, the effects of which we percepti- 
ble among every part of mankind. When 
exerted in tlie manner which reason points 
Out, when subservient to our moral sense, or 
under the guidance of religion, it may be ix- 
g;arded as one of the most importi^t sources 
of virtue, and of real greatness. Men were 
designed by nature to be united in society, 
to enjoy an intercourse with each other; and 
unless there existed some ordinary and fre* 
quent coromunicadon between them, if scat- 
tered over the earth, remote from each other, 
men would be more degraded than the vilest 
reptiles, more ferocious than the savage hy- 
cma. By intercourse, and the coUision which 
is the necessary consequence, their minds aj*e 
softened, their rugged manners rendered 
mild, their condition meliorated. By obser- 
vation, and the exertion of their intellectuid 
feculties, Aey at length reach the highest 
point of refinement and civilization; ana this 
gradual progression is augmented, if not en- 
tirely produced by this proneness to imitation. 
This view of the subject presents to us its 
real meaning, and the intent for which it was 
designed. It is obvious that were men mere- 
ly to copy the maimers, and adopt the opin- 
ions of those who preceded them, no advance- 
ment could ensue; and they must ever remain 
precise^ in the samestatein which tbcy were 
placed at their creation, or deteriorate. The 
voice of nature, therefore, if we permit our- 
selves to listen to it, does not by desiring us 
to imkate others, intend that we should ser- 
vilely adopt every peculiarity of manner or of 
character, even of the most worthy of our spe- 
cies. Circutnstances may and must vsury, 
and we must accommodate ourselves to 
these • differences. Even upon the suppo- 
sition that the prototjrpe be a correct mo- 
del, that he perform nis duties with the 
most scrupulous exactness that is possi- 
ble; nevertfieless as no man is perfect, and as 
approaches towards perfection, must be slow 
and gradual; liable to frequent relapses; his 
successours may improve upon their master, 
and excel him in their conchict. Juvenal has 
S2ud with much trudi 

*'Kemo fttit repent^ tofpissimtis.** 
and we may with equal propriety say, no one 
ever reached the highest pcnnt of virtue at 



one step. In our imitations therefore, we are 
required to improve upon tho<;e, whom we 
have selected a? models. There is but one 
point in which an undcviating and rigid ad- 
herence to thi'ir example, can pro| erly be re- 
commended ; and that unfortunately is the 
one which is most frequently lost sight of. — 
Imitate them in performing }*our duty to the 
utmost of your abilities^ m eveiy situation, 
and under all circumstances. This is to be 
done by distinguishing between the action, 
and the principle, from which it flows, llie 
latter is what we should follow. An action 
that has been at one time virtuous and cor- 
rect, under other circumstances may assume 
a different aspect and character; but the mo- 
tive which induced it, must ever remain the 



san^e. 



These reflections were excited by a visit 
which I lately paid to a young man, with whom 
I have been on terms of intimacy for several 
years. He is possessed of an understanding 
radier brilliant than solid, rather quick than 
correct. He is captivated by a novel senti- 
ment, but has not sufficient firmness, or con- 
stancy, to retain it long. The only idea that 
I ever knew him to continue in, is that of im- 
itating the conduct of eminent men ; for al- 
most every action of his life, he can allege 
the example of some illustrious character.-— 
His knowledge of the world is inconsiderar 
Ue, and has been chiefly derived from books, 
particulaiiy history and biography, with 
which he is uncommonly conversant* The 
dieerfulness of his disposition, his easy and 
tmconstrained manners, the mildness imd 
gendeness of his temper, together with the 
versatility of his talents, and his powers in 
conversation amon^ those who are intimate 
with him, render him an agreeable and char*> 
ming companion. Cleantbo is at present en- 
gaged in the study of the. law, a science 
which beyond every other demands unremit- 
ting and continued applict^on. On entering 
his office, at ten o'clock in the morning, I 
found him reading Horace; on examining 
his bookcase I perceived the works of Ho-^ 
mer, Virgil, Mikon, Pope, and others of the* 
same description; and it was some time be- 
{ot^ I gould discover Blackstone and Coke 
carefully, placed upon an upper shelf, whence, 
were I to judge ux»4 the cobwebs and dust 
t^ which they were enshrouded, they had 
not been very lately removed. I tunied to- 
wiardaldm and gravely )isk^, if this was the 
mode m which he studied law. Without 
answering my question, he turned to the life 
of Pedrarch, and read to me the following 
passage, which I observed he had ready fold- 
eddowm ^ The Roman law had been taught 
here frxHft the twelfth centurp'. Petrarch stu- 
died here four years ; but at was so much 



lost time, he could not be brought to fix his 
attention upon such dry svihjects. * I could 
not,* siiid he *deprave my mind by such a sj's- 
tem of chicaner)' as the present forms of Ian 
exhibit.'" Clea:ntho turned towards me with 
a smile, and appeared surprised that it was 
not returned. He immediately, however, 
took Hume's account of his own life from the 
shelf, and>directed my attention to the ensu- 
ing sentence: "My studious disposition, my 
sobriety, and my industry, gave my familv a 
notion that the law was a proper profession 
for me; but I found an insiu-moun table aver- 
sion to every thing but the pursuits of philo- 
sophy and general learning: and while die\ 
fancied I was poring over Voet and Vinnius, 
Cicero and Virgil were the authors which I 
was secretly devouring.'' Again Cleantho 
cast ^ smile of exultation upon me, which I 
answered with a sigh. "This, Qeantho," 1 
said, " is a most serious subject. The sen- 
tences which you have pointed out froni the 
lives of Petrarch and Hume, arc nothing to 
die purpose; they neither extenuate nor pal- 
liate your conduct. You are not yet, so much 
of a lawyer, as to suppose that precedent 
sections every measure ; and even had you 
entermined this irrational, and preposterous 
idea,yQU must nevertheless acknowledge that 
the majority of fhe cases are against you.— «. 
Look at the illustrious examples of sir Wil- 
liam Jones, sir Matthew Hale, lord Mans- 
field, lord AsUiurtoHD, and numerous others, 
and let a ooBtemi^ionof them stimulate you 
to purstie their footsteps. There are com- 
paratively few mep, whose authority or ex- 
ample would support you, and those few are 
not proper instances from which to reason.-— 
As well might j-^ou give yourself up to ine- 
briety, and defend your conduct by the au- 
thority of Cato; to incontinence, and appeal 
to Augustus; become a parasite and flatterer, 
because' Horace was (me before you; steal, 
because it was allowed b^ the laws of Sparta; 
or give yourself up to bribery and corruption, 
prosutttte the temi^eis of justice from venal 
views, and think to justify yourself by refer-, 
ring to Lord Bacon; as think to prove that a 
neglect of your studies is defensible, because 
Petrarch, Hume, Ariosto,- and a few others^ 
whose esDcellencies and reputation have given 
a kind of lustre to their defects, have been 
guilty of the same negligence. Every v^ce 
howevM' degrading, every crime however 
heinous, may be committed withiinpunity, if 
your reasoning is correct. Many young men^ 
not only in your profession, but in others, 
have fallal into the sameerrour,have jdelded 
to the same infatuattcm : but their examjJes 
should be considered as beacons to warn you 
of .your danger. Everyman has duti^t^ 
penorm in society, and Uioug^ they are vari- 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



out, diey are prop<Htioiud to fab abilities* 
Your ttdents huve imposed strong obligations 
upon you, uuJ you should ob^ their cidL I 
grant Aat Horace is a more entertaining 
companion than Ccke', and that Virgil may 
afford you more (deasure than Pbvden: but 
have you so far forgotten yourself, as to con- 
ceive that entertainment and pleasure are the 
sole, or even principal objects yoii are to pur- 
sue ? You are not to waik entirely through 
the flowery path of pleasure, you must pur- 
sue the thorny and rugged road of labour. 
The enjoyments smd gratifications you are 
now in quest of, will be of short duration. — 
True, solid, and permanent happiness must 
be founded on the retrospect, which a life, 
spent in the exercise of active and important 
duties, of arduous but useful virtues, alone 
can give. No man detesto and despises the 
character of the sensualist, and man of pleas- 
ure more than yourself: look closely at your 
own conduct ; examine with scrutiny and 
impartiality tire nature of those habits, by the 
seeming innocence of which, you have suffer- 
ed yourself to be deluded; and when you 
have made this investigation, point out to me, 
for I confess I cannot see it, any material dif- 
ference in the principles, upon which you, 
and they whoiA you reprobate, ground your 
actions.' Instead therefore my young and 
inexperienced friend, instead of imitating 
those parts of the^ characters of illustrious 
men, that are open to censure, pursue that 
line of conduct, which your better judgment, 
enlightened and strengthened by a des'ure of 
ascertaining what is right, will more correct- 
ly point out. Q» 



The following extract from J««lgc Rnsii's excellent 
charge to the Gnnd Jury of the county of Luzerne, 
Peimsylvstiia, deserves the attentive jjerusal of eve^ 
fiiend to the ? isins ^neration. 

" It has long been my opinion, that relaxa- 
tion of domestick authority is one of the most 
alarming symptoms, both of the degeneracy 
and dangerous situation of our country. Pa- 
rents and masters, seem to have abandoned 
all control over those that Providence has 
placed under their care and gardianship. 
'Hiey seem totally indifierent both as to the 
company and hours they keep, and the places 
they frequent. The reins being tlms thrown 
loose upon bad propensities, it is no wonder 
th<n^ take' the shortest road to destruction, 
and hasten to taverns.^ Depend upcm it gen- 
tlemen, it is a serious trtlth, though not ot'ten 
•heard in courts of justice; that we are res- 
ponsible to heaven, not oi]ly for our own ac- 
tions, but in some degree for the actions of 
th6se who may be influenced by our example 
or authort^. If we permit our children to 
do as they please^— to frequent what compa- 
ny they please-^and to keep what hours they 
please, nothing can be expected but that our 
county, eipe long will swarm with a race of be- 
ings, that neither fear GOD nor regard man. 
Such are the mcalculable advantages <rf dis- 
cipline over ybung persons, that I have often 
thought,(religion and a future state out of ^e 
question) it would be the height of wisdom 
to compel them to keep the most exact hours, 
tp oblige them to a regular attendance <m the 



piddick institutioDS of Christianity, to confine 
them to their own homes on Simday, at least 
some portion of that day; and in various in- 
stances of a similar nature, to restrain them, 
if it were only to impress them with habits of 
eariy subordination to private autbori^, in 
order to lay a proper foundation of obedience 
to publick government and the laws of the 
land. — Certainly much depends upon the 
influence of parents and masters, to remedy 
the evils arismg from the multiplicity of our 
taverns* It is in their power to restr^n their 
children and servants, and they are bound tp 
do it by the strongest considerations that 
can actuate the human breast. A regard to 
their own peace and repo^ beyoml the 
'grave, and the future happiness of their 
country, equaOy require it at their hands.'' 



THE NEW JERSEY BIBLE SOCIETY. 

No. VII. 

We shaD now gratify our readers, with 
another testimony to the importance of this 
institution, by publishing the address of ano- 
ther sister state. South Carolina, on this in- 
teresting subject, in hopes that the Citizens 
of New- Jersey will not come short of, or suf- 
fer themselves to be out done, in so good a 
work» by any state in the union; that as they 
are united in one federal Government, they 
will sdso be united in the great oliject of all 
our attainments, the common happiness of 
our fellow men. 

An address from the Bibk Society ofCharies- 
ton^ S. C. to the Publick. 

**The moral world presents to our view a 
variegated scene of dignity and obscurity, 
wealth and penury, contentment and wretch- 
edness. On some, the light of the gospel has 
shined in its meridian splendour— Others are 
involved in the darkness of heathenism, or 
the cheeriess gloom of scepticism. 

The Author of natiwe and of die Scrip- 
tures permits this difference in the condition 
of mankind, and by this dispensation he 
commimicates to us some valuable lessons. 
He says, ye learned, instruct the ignorant; 
ye strong, support the weak; ye wealthy, 
impart of your substance to the destitute; 
ye nappy, console the afHicted; and ye Chris- 
tians, who have in your hands the word of 
life, give it to those who want it. 

Animated by such reflections a number of 
.Christians of different denominations in this 



cit}-, 



have determined to combine their 



efR>rts for die gratuitous distribution of the 
Bible. They have formed themselves into a^ 
Society, ratified the Constitution which is 
now l^d before the publick, and appointed a 
Committee to whom they entrusted the duty, 
not less pleasing than important, of exhibit- 
ing to their fellow-citizens the object of 
their Society^ and of urging them by their 
talents, their influence, and their purse, to 
aid its views. In pursuance of their appoint- 
ment, the Committee proceed to address a 
pious, liberal, and enlightened pti^lick. 

We hesitate not to assert, that benevcdence 
is the distinguishing feature ^of the Bible 



Association. It contemplates a charily the 
most valuable and extensive in- its nature, 
and it pursues this object by means not 
more characterized by wisdom, dian by the 
fraternal spirit which they exhibit. 

The eye of pbilantbropy, fixed on Bible 
Societies glistens with delight. Htre it 
sees that benevolence, which can weaken 
the strongest of all prejudices: drive from the 
recollection of Christians that they are ^ 
Paul, or of Apollos, or of Cephas, constrain 
them to remember that they arc all of 
Christ, and unite them as brodiers in pursuit 
of the same ends, cultivating the genius of 
their relig^n, promoting the glory of God, 
and the salvation of man. 

This Society has no personal or party 
views to answer. It is ammsted by the 
patriarchal sentiment — Uncharitable men, 
**0 my soul come not thou into their secret.*' 
It believes with the Apostie, that to impart 
the gospel of God, is to evince no commcm 
philanthropy. It aims to restrain the conunis- 
sion of crimes, and to incite men to the dis- 
charge of all the social obligations. It would 
increase their bappiness as well as their use- 
fuhiess. It tenders to them a remedy for 
gloomy scepticism, a balm for their affliction, 
a zest for their prosperity, an antidote to the 
sting of death, a beacon to guide them to 
that world, ^ where the wicked cease jrom 
troubling, and the weary ore at rcjst;** a fore- 
taste, and a pledge of the felicity of the 
blessed. It offers its alms to strangers, as 
well as to friends, to foreigners as well as to 
its own countr}'men. Wliat charitable design 
for disinterestedness, for importance, for 
extent, can be compared with this?* 

Will it n^cet with oi>positionf Impossible! 
But the spirit of lukewarmness mav check 
the zeal ot its members, and dry up the sour- 
ces of its beneficence. The commiuee there- 
fore deem it expedient to open to the pul^ck 
view, the field of usefulness into which this 
Society proposes to enter, and to remind 
their fellow-citizens that they are iirvited to 
become labourers in this field, on -terms, 
which williiot interfere with dieir ease, Aeir 
other charitable labours, or even their pleas- 
ures. 

To jpve the Scriptures to those who need 
thexn, is die great and single object of this 
Society. 

Are there none who need them? Has die 
general diffusion of Scripture light, already 
caused every wilderness and solitary place 
to be glad, every desert to rejoice and blos- 
som as the rose, and every waste place to re- 
sound with thanksgiving, and the voice of 
melody? Is it not a fact ths^ more than half 
mankind are'strangers to the gospel? 

Even in Christian countries, it^ diere Rot 
many broken hearts yet to be 4^ound up by 
the power of the divine word, many captiyes 
of Satan, yet to be released by the gospel, 
many thoughtless to be reclaimted by a warn- 
ing of tlie day of vengeance, 9Xkd many dis- 
consolate into whose wounds the oilof Chris- 

^ It hu jbecn eloqaeiulj «9k«d, *' Is it possible, ia 
tkc wide region of dunty, to select sn object what 
bponty if !«» Ukely to be perverted; or whei^tke gn- 
pt It so sure thst he does not even indiitctly lainhter 
to tlie injui7 of IU9 Mow-otahtrcsf'' 



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191 



tianity is yet to be poured? Has this age seen 
the earth full of the knowledge of the Lord, 
and men flying to the gospel ark, ^as a cloud, 
and as doves to their windows?*' Let these 
questions be answered by ever)' Christian, 
before he declares that there is no demand 
for die charity contemplated by this Society. 
Even if wc could flatter ourselves that the 
distribution of the Bible, by this Societ}', 
would be unnecessary inSo^th-Carolina, the 
pious and the liberal would still patronise it 
with the view of aiding sister associations, 
and missionary societies. , But we cannot 
thus flatter ourselves. In every Christian 
country ther« arc many destitute of the 
Scriptures. The managers of the Philadel- 
phia Bible Society, declare that if their funds 
were tenfold as great as they are, they would 
be inadequate to satisfy the demand made on 
them, and that they have found that one 
fourth t)f the white families of their city, 
were destitute of the Sacred Volume. If tne 
deficiency in Charleston, and throughout the 
State, were in a tenfold proportion less dian 
it is in Philadelphia, there would still be a 
wide sphere for the contemplated benevo- 
lence. But when we add to the denumds 
which indigent families would make on our 
bounty, the claims which the tenants of our 
orphan houses, charity schools^ hospitals, 
poor houses, and gaols, would prefer, and 
those of the childrerf of careless though com- 
petent parents; we cannot doubt, that even 
within the narrow limits of our own state, a 
demand would exist fully adequate to Ae 
funds of our Societ}'.* It ought to be ad- 
ded that the Society does not intend to con- 
fine its beneficence exclusively to those who 
have not the means of purchasing a Bible. It 
will exercise its judgment in selecting' jitoper 
objects of charity from among that class, who 
through negligence or indifference, do not 
possess this invaluable treasure.f 
(^To be continued*') 

* It will probably be found, that the soldiers and 
seamen in the service of our country, are' included in 
the destription of persons, whose bendit is des\i^ned by 
this society. A late peiiodical pDblication» relates a 
pleasing; account of reformation and apparent piety 
amon^ a body of soldiers^ stationed at St. John's, No- 
va Scotia, produced principally by Bibles, sent out b^ 
a Bible Society to a Minister at that place, and distn- 
buted among them. 

f May not the attention of such persons be possi- 
bly so awakened by the gift which you bestow upon 
them, that they shall prize that as a present, upon 
which they have nevor placed so high an estimate as to 
purchase it? It is natural for them to iaquire, " Why 
this interest, which even strangers take in my salva- 
tionP» 

FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

THE REVIEW. 

NO. I. 

MR. EDITOR, 

In addressing you at this time, I have 
no raoti'^ which bears the least sway, or pos* 
sesses the smallest degree of control over 
nie,butsuch as will endure the severest scru- 
tiny and nkost accurate scanning. Against 
the authorsi^f particular pieces in your paper, 
I have no m^evolent feelings to mdulge, no 
animosities \p gratify; for they are personal 
ly unknown ^ me: neither am I induced to 
praise others, from any desire to conciliate 
their fa^'our, \x obtain their good wishesj- 



since it is more than probable that we shall 
remain forevei- mutually unacquainted. But 
if my remarks upon any of the pieces Which 
appear in the Rural Visiter, be considered 
entitled to reception and attention, my wish- 
es and desires will be amply gratified. Criti- 
cism, when it proceeds m>m a mind unim- 
passioned and unprejudiced; whose judg- 
ment is neither warped, nor very erroneous; 
may produce consequences of the most be- 
neficial nature, upon writers of that descrip- 
tion, who are less tenacious of their own er- 
rours, than desirous of improvement. A 
mind richly stored with classick erudition, a 
taste improved and refined by a study of the 
best models, an understanding enlarged and 
strengthened by scientifick researches, may 
be requisite to constitute a perfect critick.— 
To these qualifications 1 profess no claims; 
nor should I have undertaken the task which 
I have voluntarily assumed, had not I been 
convinced^ after a long expectation, that no 
one more capable of duly executmg its vari- 
ous duties, would relieve me from the anxi- 
ety I felt as to its performance. Some re- 
view of particular pieces in the Visiter, when 
conducted with impartlalit}' and propriety of 
language; equally removed from the fulsome 
sycophancy of indiscriminate flatter}', useless 
cavilmg, and unjust censure, may I hope 
possess some beneficial influences. To point 
out die errours of a youthful and inexperien- 
ced writer, in such a manner as to convince 
him, that no improper views are entertained 
by the critick; that nothing but a desire of 
reforming particular errours, with a friendly 
solicitude and charity, arising froni a con- 
sciousness of requiring the same leniency of 
treatment on his own part; may prove of con- 
siderable advantage, to those who choose to 
derive from it any improvement. The re- 
marks that are^made on particular essays, in 
conversation, are so vague and uncertain, so 

teneral in their nature, that little or no bene- 
t can result therefrom. Suffident interest 
is seldom excited by any one piece, to induce 
a person to examine it with particular atten- 
tion, and to endeavour to discover either its 
latent faults or beauties. A general sweeping 
^ntence is passed upon the whole; the blem- 
ishes are not pointed out in a manner calcu- 
lated to disarm resentment or awaken atten- 
tion, nor are they traced to their sources, and 
their seminal origin exposed to our view. — 
With these disadvantages is generally united 
another, perhaps little less detrimental: that 
of following the impulse given by particular 
persons^ who deal in hints, insinuations, and 
mysteries; and who when they express their 
opinions with decision, will never omit an 
op{>ortunity of displaying the pungency of 
their satire, or the point of their wit, whatev- 
er may be the subject. Neither is an author 
himself well calculated to perceive his own 
deficiencies. Even when his judgment and 
taste render him capable of criticising cor- 
rectiy upon the productions of another, which 
indeed is seldom the cast; an instinctive at- 
tachment to what he himself has produced, 
«n alpiost utter incapabili^ of perceiving a 
fault, where the very fact of his having writ- 
ten it, proves that he must once have been 
persuaded diere was at least no blemish; 



will ever incapacitate hira from forming ac- 
curate unprejudiced judgments, and wiU for 
a time deprive hia understanding of its natu- 
ral quaiities of discrimination. Influenced 
by these sentiments, should you acquiesce in 
their correctness, I shall occasionally trouble 
you with a few strictures on particular pie- 
ces, given to the publick in the Visiter. In 
the prosecution of this design, I shall net 
confine myself to any time, or other, restraints, 
but write as inclination leads, and fiancy dic- 
tates. To aid me in this task, I shall ever be 
happy to receive any external aid, to supply 
my deficiencies either In time, ability, or ni- 
clination. Lassitude may sometimes make 
me dull: but personal pique, or regard, shall 
never make me unjust. These are all my 
promises; and how well they will be observ- 
ed, time alone can reveal. 



FOt IBS BUBAL VISITER. 

THE "APRIL FOOL.'* 

A charming^ maid, the oihcr dajr. 
Cried, " Kiss inc, sir," thwi flew away; 
Atid as she flew, I watch'd her eye. 
In ndtber, saw the words, Good hye. 
Her lips, her cheeks, of crimson hue, 
Seem*d temptingly, to say ^— for you! 
She look*d fa«hh^, and gave a smUe, 
As I pursu'd her still, the while 
Repeating oft, *< My^ diarming Miss, 
Pray let me snatch the profferd kiss.** 
•• Ah! April Fool!" she quick rcply'd. 
But I. mbre eager, harder tryM; 
Her beating breast, her slackened pace, 
Declar'd I'd shortly win the racei 
With nimbler strides, I soon had gain'd 
The lovely object — and obtained 
The bliss I wi8h*d— but blush to say^. 
The bliss I sighed for many a dav! 

She hung her head, I snatch'd atufther. 
Her look exclaiming •* Give me t'other P' 
She soon conicis*d-— her |M»sion cool, 
" I find you are no April Fool!** 

ALFRED. 

rOR THE BUBAL VISITEB. 

That the Editor may /' snatch an additional bUss;*' a 
young, and what he may style a "fair reader,'* ven- 
tures to offer him the following. 

*Tis that dear hour, when day and night 

Struggle for the sovereign sway; 
'Tis the hour, when solemn twilight 

Steals and bears the palm away. 

Tis when the sun*s last golden flush 

Mantles in the western sky; 
When bustling sounds begin to hush, 

And the weary homeward hie. 

7*hen ** O Goddess of golden dreams !"* 

Then I feel thy magick powV: 
Sweet the pensive joy that gleams 

Through my soul in that calm hour. 

I watch the stars Of they appear , 

Twinkling in the aznre sky; 
Cynthia too, perchance, is near, 

And majestick mounts on high. 

Her silver rays shine in my heart. 

Sooth and chase each care away; 
The secret charm, I can't impart, 

'Tis a bliss, no words convey. 

What rapt'rous pleasure stiU to gaze. 
Thinking some dear absent friend 

Then views that spot, those veiy rays, 
While our souls together blend. 

Then, fairy Fancy, busy pow*r. 

Building castles high in air. 
With thee I pass the fleeting honr. 

Forming future prospects fair. 

Waking, I dream— I dream of bliss: 
** Waking dreams" are dear to me; 

Though (experience teaches this) 
«* Gilded i>oisons" they may be. 

AUGUSTA. 



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V0& TBS RVAAI* VI8ITBA. 

N«w-Jenexi 2d Month* 1811. 
COUSIN EDWARD, 

The fashion of die times not permitting 
an individual to leave the patemid firf-side, 
to partake a little of the oxygen of bis neigh- i 
boors and friends, unless he detail every mi- 
nutia, which may have occurred in his ram- 
ble, that those who may venture after him 
may profit thereby; and that it be inspected 
by the eye of the critick and inserted in the 
volume of news,80 that hundreds (who by the 
by care nothing for die individual or his ma- 
noeuvres) may be instructed by the narrative: 
—I, therefore, being one of those who have 
essayed to go forth beyond the protection of 
the fire-side group, to see what we have often 
heard our fathers talk about, '^ a litde of the 
world," have this evening, in conformity to 
thy wishes, set down to mform tliee, the re- 
sult of my observations; but whether the pub- 
lication of them will be of any advantage, is 
a question which thou art better able to solve 
than myself, as thy pericranium partakes 
more of the soltdky than my own. 

Thou kupwest when I left thee I bent my 
course to that part of the c6untry, our near 
contiguity toywhich had ao familiarized the 
names oi many of the people to us, that the 
mention of them, formed in the mind syooni- 
mous impressions with ,that of correctness 
and propriety; and the sweetness and inno- 
cence which characterized the milder sex, as 
they stand enrolled on the catalogue of many 
of our beau mondc, had combined to prepare 
jny mind to expect an easy avenue to the re* 
alization of my long fostered hopes. My 
mind was con^quently on the akr^.that I 
might not neglect any opportunity to which 
this transient visit had introduced me^ of see- 
ing " a little of the worlds* hence, with a 
view to have some data on which to proceed, 
my first consideration was, to see whether a 
change of situation, had any tendency to pro- 
duce, (physically) a change in the people; 
and dience to discover the great, the good, 
and the wise of our fathers: but I was at once 
almost ready to conclude, that it was like 
friend Swift's folks in Gulliver's Travels, all 
imaginadon; inasmuch, as they did not ap- 
pear any larger, any better formed, nor was 
their zenith any hi^er in the atmosphere, 
than those we are daily in the practice of see- 
ing at uncle's, and at our house! ■ ■ Here 
then I took a retrospect of my more juvenile 
years; and had to reflect much upon the im- 
proper bias which many minds then receive, 
by an unwarrantable misapplication, on the 
part of instructers and parents, of the abili- 
ties with which Heaven has favoured them, 
by filling the imagination of children with 
rules of the wonderful which never existed, 
and inducing them to betieve they are desti- 
ned to expect things which can never be rea- 
lized. If the observation of Solomon, " bring 
up a child in the way he should walk, and 
when he is old he will not depart from it," 
was to be attended to in all its bearings, we 
iiiould not so often be induced to assent to 
tlie propriety of the observation, that " Men 
go far to observe the summits of mountains, 
uie' waters of the sea, the beginning and 



course of rivers, the immensity of ^ ocean, 
but they neglect themsehesJ^ 

My friend requeste we shall be up and do- 
ing; therefore expect a more particular ac- 
count in my next. 

I am sincerdy thy Cousm, 

EZEKIEL. 



roa THE RVaAL visitbr. 
AN EPITH ALAMIUM. 

UarkI from yon sequeBtered shade* 
Once pining X^ve's indulged abode; 

Whence oft her piercing sighs have stra-x'd; 
Where oft her dewy tears have Aow*d; 

j^andng through the quivering trees, 

Elysian accents gayly pour; 
And wafted on the s^y breeze* 

Wing with bliss the hours in store* 

What voice is that which charms to rc&t, 
Grifn discontent, with visions fairf 

And banishes from every breast. 
The i^oojny, haggard band of care? 

Hark! it sings of heaven-born pleasures, 
Gladdening the rosy cheek of days 

Brighter than India's glittering tivasuras, 
More blooming than the robe of May. 

Joys, that scorn the sordid mind, 

That's link'd to vice by chains of gold, 

To every generous motive blind. 
In deeds of prowling meanness bold. 

And shun the adamantine heart— 
The heart that's locked against relief, 

To heal affliction's angry smart. 
Or sooth its wildly raging grief. 

What strains are these? O, kimfiy tell, 
Te nymphs that haunt the willowy groves 

Or ye that of the dusky deH, 
Or flowery mead enamoured rove. 

*• 'Tis Hymen's seag,** the woods reply? 

" Sec! in yonder velvet glade, 
His altar strikes the love fraught eye. 

In beauty's cichest pomp array'U! 

** There by the radiant prospect led, 
A favoured pair attend the hour, 

lliat round their twining paths shall shed, 
The fruits of his bewitching power.** 

Now the loQdqr numbers float. 

Along the wild-rose spangled plajn; 

While every sympathetick note, 
Echoes to the gladsome strain. 

*' Fly" they sound, «* ye busy swarm, • 
Of Fears that wait on bliss to come; 

No more Youth's downy rest alarm. 
Nor prey upon its roseate bloom. 

*• Fly, for Hymen blithe and gay, 
Laughs at the leaden pace of time; 

Sweetly smiles the orb of day, 
H ailing Joy 's delicious prime. 

<* But thou! blest Hope, of dazzling mien. 
Grateful songs to thee are dpe: 

Thee we invoke, to grace the scene. 
Which erst thy Rowing pencil drew. 

*' Thy landscapes oft, howe'er so bright. 
Too soon are shewn fond Fai»cy's dream; 

Here they shine, in reason's light. 
Here with living splendours beam* 

*« When Love, inflam'd by dire delay, « 
Had o'er fair Emma's otptive soul,. 

Unpuyin^;, uig'd its potent swayj^— 
For Love's a stranger to control: 

" Then did thy r$iii|bow steps advance. 
The surge of tender grlei t' a-ssoage; 



Thine eves dispensed a maigick glance. 
And let the bBlows ceard to rage. 

** HiUl! dondlesft day of prosper^ love* 
Let airy mnsi^ waft aroand; 

Let ii warble through die giove. 
And from the shadowy hiUa rebound. 

« Strike the sbonive silvan 4yre; 

Fill the meUow flowing flute; 
Rouse the harp's aaestial-flre. 

Nor let the viol's iiiurth be mute. 

<<The soft bat motumful lute no more. 
Shall bteathe its woes so sadly grave; 

Bear it to that oak-hong shore. 
To murmur with the dashing wave, 

*< Ring the jocund chiming bdl, 
Till the wkk sesounding peal; 

Every throb of sadness quell. 
Every wound of misery heaL 

" Haste! ye Nymphs, whose fairy graces. 
With sweetest odours fill the gale. 

That nature's iairest gifts embnuBWf 
As It circles Arvendale. 

«< Whether you bloom aloft in air, 
Whh the mountain daisy's form; 

Open to fashiou's splendid glare, 
ATet kept from envy's bitter storm; 

, <• Or with the violef s jwiodest rays. 
Deck the cfarystal streamlet's side. 
That shuns the world's bewildering gaze. 
Content to be the valley's pride. 

'< Hither hie on Joy.'s swift jmiioaBi 
Cast aside each wei^ ofpain; 

None are here of Carrs black miniooSi 
None of frozen Interest's tndfi. 

'* Brisker flies the jovial string; 

Louder sounds the merry ^lipe; 
Haste and join the festive ring! 



ring: 
Setae enjoy nrteut while it's ripe!" 



ARION, 



IMPORTANT TO FARMERS. 

There had been for some years an increas- 
ing attention to the propagation of fruit trees; 
but it is to be regretted that the labour is 
often lost by one common err^ur; letting the 
gi-ass grow too near the trees. No young 
tree wilT grow well when a s^^d is iormed 
round it.— Yet in travelling our country in 
every direction we sec this errour. The eardi 
shotdd be turned over in the spring and latter 
part of summer^ at least two or three feet 
from the young trees; and Aen all the weeds 
and grass that spring up will rot and become 
excellent manure for them. By such culture 
trees will grow rapidlv, but without it their 
growth is extremely slow, and they often die 
without coming to maturity. TTie impor- 
tance of raising forest trees, is every year 
more apparent, as there is an increasing 
scarcity of wood and timber in all the lowns; 
in ordfer to propagate them the young trees 
must have the same culture as fruit trees. 

N. B. In (Wanting all kinds of trees, Ae 
hole must be much m<Hre extensir^ than die 
roots, j^d be jfilled up with the best eardi, 
diat there inay be a quick a«d vigorous 
growth. Although an obscrvi^ice df «diis 
method of cultivating trees will require moi^ 
labour for a few years, jret ^ will be great 
gain, as the trees will be iM^ger in seven yean 
uian tliey will grow in tweiity,Mid scMaetiiaes 
thirty in the comnion way. 



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THE RURAL ViSItER. 



3 0.3 



BaaaBDBeaB3RBssseaBs 

SBLECTXS raOM TBS ADVBNTVASll. 



The Htr^ dUtinguiahcd from the modem 
Man ofHonaOTi exemplifiedin the hUtory 
of Eugenia. 

Kotitiam primotqae gradus vicinla fecit; 
Tcropore crevit amor. Ovid. 

Acquaintaneegrew, th' ac<|uaintaiioe they ifoproire 
To triendKkip« ftieiKUhip ripen'd into love. 

EVSOBV. 

To the Adventurer^ 

SIR, 

Your paper of last Tuesday se*nnight,* 
which I did not. read till to-day, determined 
me to seiMl you anaccoont of my friend Eu- 
goaiiO) by whose distress my mind has been 
long kept in perpetual agitation : and, per- 
haps, my narrative may not only illustrate 
your alleffory, but contribute to recover 
Opinton firom her defection. 

As Orgtlio, the father of Eugenio, had no 
principles but those of a man of honour, he 
avoided alike bath the virtues and vices 
whidi are incompatible with tiiat character : 
religion he supposed to be a contrivance of 
priests and politicians, to keep the vulgar in 
awe; and* used by those in the rank of gen- 
tlemen who pretend to acknowledge its obli- 
gations, only as an expedient to conceal their 
want of spirit. By a conduct regulated upon 
these principles, he gradually reduced a pa- 
ternal estate of two thousand pounds per an- 
num to five hundred. Besides Eugenio, he 
iiad only one child, a daughter: his wife died 
while they were infants. His younger broth- 
er, who had acquired a very considerable 
fortune in trade, retired unmarried into the 
country: he knew that the paternal estate was 
greatly reduced; and, therefore, took the ex- 
pense of his nephew's education upon him- 
self : after some years had been spent at West- 
minster school, he sent him to the imiversity, 
and supported him by a very genteel annuity. 

Eugenio, though his temper was remarka- 
bly warm and sprightly, haa yet a high relish 
of literature, and insensibly acquired a stroi^ 
attachment to a college li^. His apartment 
adjoined to mine, and our acquaintance was 
soon improved into friendship. I found in 
him great ardour of benevolence, and a sense 
of generosity and honour wliich I had con- 
ceived to consist only in romance. With 
respect to Christianity, indeed, he was as yet 
a sceptick: but I found it easy to obviate ge- 
neral objections; and, as he had great pene- 
tration and sagacity, was superiour to ^ja- 
dice^aiid habituated to no vice which he wish- 
ed to countenance by infideli^, he began tp 
believe as soon as he began to inquire: the 
evidence for Revdation at length appeared 
incontest^le; and without busying himself 
with the cavils of subtilty against particular 
doctrines, he determined to adhere inviola- 
Wy to the precepts as a rule of life, and to 
trust in the ]j[romises as the foundation of 
hope* The s$^e ardour and firmness, the 
«ame gentirosit j and honour, were now exer- 
cised with more exalted view^ and upon a 
more perfect pla^ He considered me as his 
preceptor, and I considered him as my ei^am- 

• See pafiylja4,Il. Visiter. 



fe: our frienddup increased every day; and 
believe he had conceived a design to follow 
me into orders. But when he had continu- 
ed at college about two years, he received a 
command from his father to come immedi- 
ately to town: for that his earnest desire to 
place him in the army was now accomplished, 
and he had procured him a captain's com- 
mission. By the same post he received a let- 
ter from his uncle, in which he was strongly 
urged to continue at college, with promises 
of succeeding to his whole estate; his father's 
project was zealously condemned, and his 
neglect of a brother's concurrence resented. 
Eugenio, though it was greatly his de^re to 
continue at college, and his interest to oblige 
his uncle, yet obeyed his £^ther without the 
least hesitation. 

When he came to town, he discovered that 
a warm altercation had been carried on be- 
tween his unde and his father upon this sub- 
ject: his uncle, not being able to produce any 
effect upon the fetfier, as a last effort had 
written to the son; and being equally offend- 
ed with both, when his application to both 
had been eatndly ineffectual, he reproached 
him with" folly and ingratitude; and dying 
soon after by a fall from his horse, it appear- 
ed, that in the height of his resentment he 
had left his whole fortune to a distant relation 
in Ireland whom he had never seen. 

Under this misfortune Eugenio comforted 
himself by reflecting, that he had incurred it 
bv obedience to his father; and though it pre- 
cluded hopes that were dearer than life, yet 
he never expressed his displeasure either by 
invective or complaint. 

Orgilio had very eariy in life contracted an 
intimacy with Agrestis, a gentleman whose 
character and prmciples were very different 
from his own. Agrestis had very just notions 
of right and wrong, by which he regulated 
his conduct without any regard to the opin- 
ion of others: his integrity was universal and 
inflexible, and his temper ardent and opeu ; 
he abhorred whatever had the appearance oJF 
disingenuity; he was extremely jealous of his 
authority, and there was a rough simplici^ 
m his manner which many circumstances of 
his life had contributed to produce. His fa- 
Uier left him a fortune of two hundred thous- 
and pounds; but as the parsimony which ena- 
bled him to amass it, extended to the educa- 
tion of his son, by whom it was to be posses- 
$ed, he had been taught neither politeness 
nor literature. He married a lady, whose 
influence would have polished the rou^h di- 
amond by degrees ; but she died within the 
first year of their m^rriaee, leaving him a 
daughter to whom he gave ner name, Amelia, 
and transferred all his affecdon : he, there- 
fore, continued to live in great privacy ; and 
beiug used to have only servants and depen- 
dants about him, he indulged the peculiari- 
ties of his humour without that complaisance 
which becomes insensibly hsdbitual to those, 
who mix in the oompimy of persons whom it 
is their apparent interest to jnease, and whose 
presence is a perpetual restraint upon svich 
irregular sti^its of temper as would incur gqu- 
tenfipt, by arrogating a superiority which none 
would acknowledge. To this disposition his 
daughter accogi^io^iUjted herself as she grew 



up, from motives both of affection and dut} : 
as he knew and regretted the defect of his 
own education, he spared no cost to complete 
her's; and she is indeed the most accomplish- 
ed character I ever knew: her obedience is 
pheerful and implicit, bet- affection tender 
and without parade; her looks express the 
utmost sweetness and sensibility, and ) et 
there is a dignity in her maiujer which com- 
mands respect* 

The btimacy between the father of Euge- 
nio and Agrestis produced a tender friend- 
ship between his sister and Amelia, which 
began in their infancy, and increased with 
their years. 

Such characters as Amelia and Eugenio 
could not be long familiariy known to each 
other, without exciting mutual esteem: the 
transition from esteem to love, between pet- 
sons of different sexes, is often imperceptible* 
even to themselves; and, perhaps, was not 
discovered till long after it had happeneil, 
either by Eugenio or Amelia. WTien he re- 
turned from the university, she was about 
eighteen: as her stature and her beaut}' were 
gready increased during this interval, their 
first effect upon Eugenio was proportionably 
greater; and he perceived, from whatever 
cause, a more sensible emotion in her. He 
had too much discernment not to discover 
that she loved him; and too much generosit\' 
not to conceal his love of her, because he waus 
so much her inferiour in fortune: sometimes^ 
he reflected upon her partiality with pleasure, 
and sometimes with regret; but while they 
were thus mutu^ly conscious to desires 
which they mutually suppressed, the late re- 
bellion bix>ke out, and Eugenio was com- 
manded into Scotland. In this expedition 
he distinguished himself equally by his cour- 
age and humanity: and though he had not 
much money, and therefore could but sel- 
dom display his bowdty; yet his concern for 
the real iirtereat of his men was so apparent, 
as well in such acts of kindness as were in 
his power, as in the strict discipline which he 
maintained among them, that his personal 
influence was very powerful and extensive. 
During this absence, though he felt his pas- 
sion for Amelia increase, notwithstanding all 
his attenq)ts to suppress it; yet he never 
wrote to her, but contented himself with 
mentiontn^ her in geiieral terms, and includ- 
ing her in hb remembrance of other friends, 
when he wrote to his fether and his sister. 

When he retumed^as his sister's intimacy 
with Amelia still continued, his opportuni- 
ties to sec her were equally frequent: but the 
pleasure pf diose interviews were become 3'et 
more tumultuous and confused; and the lov- 
ers were both conscious, that their sentiments 
were every moment involuntarily discovered 
to each other. 

AmeliiL had dismissed many suitors, who 
were not less distinguished by their merit 
than their rank, because she still hoped to en- 
rich Eugenio with her fortune; ana Eugenio 
persisted in a conduct by which this hope 
was disappointed; because he would not de- 
grade Amelia by an alliance with dependance 
and poverty. The objections of duty might, 
indeed, haye been removed by obtaining the 
consent of Agrestis ; but those of honoi^r 



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194 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



would still have remained: he was not, how- 
ever, absolutely without hope; for though he 
had lost his uncle's fortune by obedience to 
his father, yet as he had greatly recommend- 
ed himself to his commanding officer, who 
was of the highest nmk, he believed it possi- 
ble that he might be advanced to a post in the 
anny, which would justify his pretensions to 
Amelia, and remove all his difficulties', at 
once. 

Agrestis wondered at the conduct of his 
daughter, but neither asked nor suspected her 
motives; for he had alwaj^s declaimed, that as 
he believed she would never many agabst 
his consent, he would never urge her to mar- 
ry against her own inclination* 

Amelia, therefore, continued to decline 
every offer, and Eugenio to see her almost 
every day, without the least intimation of his 
love, till the beginning of the last winter, 
^ hen he lost his sister by the small-pox, — 
His interviews with Amelia were now less 
frequent, and, therefore, more interestitig: he 
feared, diat as h(^ would be seldom in her 
sight, the assiduiti^of some fortunate rival 
might at length excl\ide him from her re- 
membrance: he did not, however, faulter in 
his resolution, nor did Amelia change her 
conduct. 

(To be conttmfed.) 

TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

The "Lines to the memory of J. M. Hanckel," we 
sliall with pleasure give an early insertion in our paper: 
his memory will ever be dear to ut; for we aUo knew 
and loved him. The piece has no signatures if that 
be an undesigned omission, we will thank the author 
to furnish us with one. 

Cbhe hopes we ** will not reject a first attempt'^— 
and indeed 'twould afford us much pleasure to gratify 
tlie little creaturei but she must remember that a nest- 
ling scarcely fledged, should choose the roost retired 
parts of the valley for its Jirtt ftigbtt, ere it presumes 
xo soar with the other songsters of the grove. We 
would advise her, still to continue her walks. 

— — ** by the edge of the stream, that leads 
Down to an extrenaely pleasant wood; 
And there in'contemplative Anood, 
Think upon the beauteous spring, 
With imagmation on the wmg^— — 

Yet at the same time endeavour' to attend to the ad- 
vice of a sister poetess, that 

" Fancy's flights we should restrain,** 
or, perhaps, her imagination, being already " on the 
wing,* may fly away. 
We acknowledge the receipt o£ i7*« selections. 

EPHEMERIS. 



April. 


D. M. 


iSun rises 


Sun seu. 


H.Water 


1st week. 


1 H. M. 


H. M. 


Burling. 


1st day, 


31 


5 4f 


6 13 


.9 I 


2d day, 


1 


5 46 


6 14 


9 49 


3d day, 


2 


5 44 


6 16 


10 36 


4th day. 


3 


543 


6 IT 


11 21 


5th day. 


4 


5 41 


6 19 


12 5 


6th day, 


5 


5 40 


6 20 


12 49 


rtkday. 


6 


5 39 


6 21 


1 13 



INTELLIGENCE. 

nOMBSTICK. 

LIST OF ACTS 
Passed at the Third Session of the Eleventh 
Congress. 
(Concluded.) 
An act in additk>n to tite act endded ^ An act sup- 
plementary to the act conccn.^ng consuls and vice coti- 



suls,** and for the ftrrther protection of American sea- 
men. 

An act supplementary to the act entitled " An aid 
concerning the commercial intercourse between the 
United States and Great Britain and France, and for 
other purposes." 

An act to authorize the secretary of war to ascertain 
and settle, by the appointipent of commissioners, the 
exteriour line of the publick land tu WCst Point with 
the adjoining proprietor. 

An act to erect a light house on Boon Island, in the 
state o^ Massachusetts, to place buoys off cape Fear 
river, and to erect a beacon at Kew-Inlet, in the state 
of North Carolina, and to place buoys at the entrance 
of the harbour of Edgartown and to erect a column of 
stone on cape Elizabeth, and to complete the beacons 
and buoys at the entrance of Beverly harbour, in the 
state of Massachusetts. 

An act authorizing the president of the United States 
to accept the service of a number of volunteer compa- 
nies not exceeding 6fty thousand men. 

An act to establish the districts of Mumphreyma- 
gog, Oswegatchie and of the White Mountains. 

An act authorizing a loan of money for a sum not 
exceeding five millions of dollars. 

An act declaring x\\t consent of congress to an act 
of the state of Georgia, passed the 12th of December, 
1804, establishing the fees of the harbour master and 
health officer of the ports of Savannah and St. Mary*s. 

An act to annex a part of the state of New Jersey 
to the collection district of New York; to remove the 
office of collector of Niagara to Lewistown; to make 
Cape St. Vincent a port of delivery, and out of the dis* 
tricts of Mia^ and Mississippi to make two iMtyr dis- 
tricts, to be called the districts of Sundusky. and Teche, 
and for other purposed. 

An act for the relief of Johli Macnamara. 

An act to extend the time for completing the thiid 
census or enumeration of the inhabitams of the United 
States. 

An act concerning invalid pensioners. 

An act making appropriations for carrying into ef- 
fect a treaty between ilie United States and the Great 
and Little Osage nations of Indians, conclu4ed at Fort 
Clarke, on the tenth day of November, 1808, and for 
other purposes. 

An act for allowing a reasonable compensation to 
the persons who have taken an account of the several 
manufacturing esublishments and manufacturers with- 
in the United States. 

On Monday last, the bill granting a charter to the 
late bank of the United States, was called up in the 
House of Hepresentatives of the Pennsylvania Legis- 
lature, and negatived I Against the Bank 55— For the 
Bank 34— Majority 21. 

FOREIGN. 

By the ship Lucy and Elizabeth, arrived from Lis- 
bon, which place she left the 16th of February, we 
have received Lisbon Gazettes to the 12th; but thfey 
contain no news of importance. By the passengers we 
learn that the armies continued still in winter quarters 
strongly intrenched; and so neariy balanced as to 
strength that neither appeared tobe willing to attack 
the other. Gen. Junot bad been shot by one of the 
English piquet gnard: the man had been arrested and 
it was thought would be executed; as it was contrary 
to the rules of war for the piquet guard to fire on the 
enemy while they remain within their own lines. The 
French had erected an opera house within their camp, 
and had sent cards of invitation to the English to par- 
take of the amusemciit; but the English had poUtely 
declined the invitation. 

Letters teceived from Dantzjck to the Uth of Feb- 
ruary, state that the merchants in that and the Prus- 
sian towns in the Baltick having failed to pay the duty 
of forty per cent, imposed on colonial property, the 
French douanien have adopted an extraordinary mode 
of liquidating this impost. They seize such a propor- 
tion of property of this kind as, in their estimation, 
will cover the duty, and send it off to Pari^ Every 
week immense quantities of goods are taken out of the 
merchants' warehouses, and forwarded to the French 
capital, amidst the hisses, groans, and execrations of 
the populace. The French custom house officers, as 
might be expected, do not put themselves to the trou- 
ble of calculating to a fraction the quantity of produce 
that will cover the amount of the duty. They not only 
make very liberal allowances for a possible fall in the 
price of the ankle, but even include in their eeizuret 
as much of it as will defray the expense of transport- 
ing it to Paris. 

By late accounts from En^and, we learn that the 
King had so far recovered ai to be ftble to direct again 



the aHurs of go ver n ment. That the Prince of Wsks 
had resigned the Regency, hi consequence of the re- 
covery at the King; and that the change of Ministry 
which had been neariy completed, was, of coarse, sus- 
pended. The London papers contained high eiicomi- 
urns on the Prince, for resigning the Regency, as w«Ii 
as his general conduct throitf^ the whole a£»ir; and ail 
parties appeared to be satisued with the issue. 

A letter from Jmquemel, received at St. Domingo, 
states, that Petion had uken that place, and massacred 
most of the inbmMtants. Petion was nextto go tgtiRst 
Aux Cayea afid Rio Haeha. It was said at St. Domic- 
go,that the whole island of Cmtaco», with Little Cor. 
racoa, and a part of Bonair, was sunk by an Earth- 
quake, Feb. 9, with all tiie veesels in the haibov, m- 
eluding a vessel from Lcmdon, with a ciirgD wonh 
i^O^OW. 

MARRIED*-^ Mount Holly, on the 24th uhino. 
Mr. PHILEMON* CANFIELD, Printer, of Philadd. 
phia, to Miss SALLY G. WOODWARD, of Bur- 
lington.— — At Allentown, on the 31st idt. linr the Rev 
Mr. CorneU» Dr. GEORGE HOLCOMBE, Itte of 
Trenton, to Miss ELIZA IMLAY, daughter of J pk 
Imlay, Esq. of the first mentioned place. 

DIED— on the 24th ult. in Philadel|Aia,of theHv. 
dropb(^ia,Mr. JOHN GRIGGS, Printer, in the prime 
of life. Several animals had been Wtten by the slut 
which bit him. Th^ services of all Ae dogs in the 
cit}' and liberties foi^ a century will not coom^inlaiKe 
the loss of such a citizen. The tax for keeping dogs 
should extend to the extermination and total prohibi. 
tion of the species in po()uh>os cities. 
The following character of Mr« John M. Haackcl,no. 
ticed in our last week*s obituary, was then .handed 
us; but come too late for insertion: we now copy it 
from the American Daily Advertiser. 
" Nothing that can be ssud of the character and en. 
dowments of this valuable )roung noan, either in a 
newspaper, or elsewhere, can add to the esteem of 
those who knew him when living, or to their regms 
when deploring his loss. The subject of this commu- 
nication was, in many respects a Very extraordiiury 
youth— seldom has nature, when most lavish of her fa- 
vours, bestowed on her favourites higher powers of 
mind, Or talents better calculated to improve thcm.- 
His mental constitution evidently combined all those 
faculties that facilitate the acquisition of knowledge, 
and the correct symmetry of his mind enabled him so 
to arrange them, that no confusion from his various 
acquirements was ever perceptible. His comprehen- 
sion was clear, and qukJc, and penetrating. His pro- 
gress in the sciences was rapid, solid and cxtensive- 
His knowledge of the learned languages critically ac- 
curate, aiui his facility in evolving intricacies that puz- 
zle common minds was unusual and wonderful. When 
to such powers of intellect, such extensive aquire- 
menu, and an incessant zeal to increase them, we re- 
Beet that a most happy talent In communkatting know- 
ledge to young mincls, was united, together with w 
unruffled suavity of manner, and resolute composwt 
and steadiness of temper, so essential to all ni^trncters, 
it can readily be imagined what a loss society and the 
country have sustained by the death of this promisinj 
young man. But with respect to himself wc have no 
cause for lamentation. Though called hotoe to bii 
God in the midst of his usefulness, in the morning of 
his existence, he had probably done more than nun/ 
^o labour through the longest day, and in being pet- 
roitted to anticipate the lapse of time by so eaiiy an 
admission into the regions of bliss, he has lecdved a 
most ample recompencc, for being reuKived so soon 
ftom the endearing ties of nature, and the snuilicg 
prospects of successful exertion. It is heliewJ, that 
none who witnessed the last struggles of tbit yonug 
man with the approaches of death, will qofstios thii 
observation.— For he exhibited every sendnent that 
genuine religion can inspire, or express. 'Vkoogh mist. 
ing that by the grace of God, he had faithfully com- 
plied with his publick duties, yet conscuios of mtaj 
failings, and the general sinfulness of his nature, kt 
threw himself entirely upon the redeemhig saciificeot 
his Saviour for pardon, mercy and acceptance, and ei- 
perienced from this blessed £aith m Hira, and from 
hope in liis promises, joy, unspeakable and fiall of glo- 
ry. In a word his death was as ed'fyiog as his life w« 
useful. To his relative he has bequeathed the roost 
honourable of legacies, an tmbicMisbcd rerputation, and 
an exalted instance of tlie pover of rdigiom asd tj 
his popUs no kinder wish can he offered than that ikf 
may imitate their beloved imtructer through life, uA 
that their deaths may- be likr un to Kia. *' 



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" Homo sums /tumani nihil ame alietium fiuto.** — 3J<in and his cares to me a nuiu, arc dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, FOURTH MONTH (AP^IL) 8th, 1811. 



No. sr. 



THE RECORDER. 

^ . . No. ;xxxvi. 

Too good by half, their follies have undone, 
The grateful sense, their g^en'rous actions won. 

Anon. 

There is, perhaps, no word so familiarly 
used by the world, and so little understood 
as politeness. Notwithstanding a variety of 
essayists and moralists, in every age, have 
devoted their attention professedly to it, and 
laboured with great ingenuity and talents to 
- make it plain and practical, the slightest sur- 
vey of the present state of society, in the 
most enlightened nations, will convince us 
what little success hath heretofore crowned 
their l^ours« An inquiry into the causes 
of their failure, will naost probably convince 
us, tliat it is not owing to any real ca(>ric]ous- 
' ness in the nature of politeness itself^ but 
principally to the neglect of writers to define 
it accurately, or permanently to fix its prin- 
ciples. Politeness is founded upon truth; 
and like its basis^ is fixed and immutable, 
unaffected by the fluctuations of fashion, or 
the progress of time or refinement. Tlie let- 
ters of lord Chesterfield are familiar to the 
worlds— He has reduced politeness to a sci- 
ence, and unfolded its principles with such 
ingenuity and easy elegance, as to make them 
pracUcal and familiar, alike to the ignorant 
and enlightened of every country. The prin- 
ciples of Chesterfield are often undoubtedly 
exceptiona^e; but his letters, notwithstand- 
ing, form a treasure, the extensive import- 
ance of which, the world has never yet suffi- 
ciently appreciated. According to him, po- 
liteness is *Hi study to make every body hap- 
py about us." This definition comprehends 
its very spirit and essence-^and it would be 
an object of the highest importance, in our 
intercourse with the world, to keep it con- 
tinually imprest on our memories^ and in all 
our words and actions to a$k ourselves the 
question; whether what we are going to say 
or do, can, in any manner, give pleasure or 
pain to those about us; and regulate our ac- 
tions accordingly. Such a habit of politeness 
would infialliUy eventuate, not only in polish- 
ing the bands uiat coimect society together, 
but extending, in an infinite degree, the cir*- 
de of the social and moral pleasured. The 
subject under consideration, the more exam- 
ined, assumes in, proportion a de^>er and 
more important interest: And what appear* 
ed, at first, trite and obsolete, win be found 
embracbg objects, highly important to the 
social interests of the world. And were its 
principles earty imprest on the minds of 
you^ and taught in our schools, as a neces- 
sary put of education, the practice naturally 



resulting therefrom, would give to society, a 
degree of perfection thai ages will never ef- 
fect, and which it is, probably, never destined 
to record. * Politeness gives to the human 
character, its. brightest ornament; and to re- 
ligion and morality their most amiable fea- 
tures, and most attractive graces— -Without 
it, virtue degenerates into the- coldness of a 
necessar}' duty; charity becomes impertinent 
or painful, and hospitality rude, or at best 
officious. 

^ I have been led to say so much on the na- 
ture of politeness itself, that I had almost 
forgotten the original intention of this essay: 
which was to have pointed out a species of 
false politeness that characterizes the hospita- 
lity of many excellent families. I cannot bet- 
ter illustrate my meaning, than by rqjating a 
visit I lately paid to my ancient and worthy 
friend, Anthony Aimwell, Esq. A moj'e re- 
ally benevolent family than his seldom does 
honour to human nature. The moment I 
arrived at my friend's house, the domesticks 
who, it seems, were apprized of my visit, 
surrounded me in a body; and it was some 
considerable time before I could get my 
horse taiken from me, for fear of giving of- 
fence to some one et other of these good 
people. Andiony, with all his family met me 
at tne door, and in the most affectionate and 
tender manner, bade me welcome. I was 
immediately ushered into the best parlour, 
and seated in the great arm-chair or the fa* 
rally, so near the fire, that before I was aware 
of it, my limbs were almost blistered; and I 
nearly intoxicated by the repeated draughts 
of dff and toddy, which my good Mrs. Aim- 
well, absolutely compelled me to swallow.— 
At supper, in spile of all my remonstrances, 
my coflFee-cup was so often filled, and my 
plate replenished, that before the return of 
thanks, my stomach began to revolt against 
the oppression, and I rose from the table in 
no inconsiderable degree of agony. When 
the hour of rest arrived, a new scene of trou- 
bles commenced— my bed was positively 
scorched with the warming pan: nor was this 
all; 1 had scarcely drawn the curtains round 
me. when my excellent hostess honoured me 
witn a visit— 4t was ever her custom she said, 
before she retired herself^ to see her friends 
comfortably a-bed. After looking to the 
windows, closing the closet doors, and ad- 
ding to mv bed a new weight of blanketing, 
she made ner compliments and retired. The 
consequence was, uiat after a profuse perspi- 
ration, unable any longer to breathe under 
the immense weimt of clothes that covered 
me, I threw off die ^eatest part of it; and 
awoke the next morning, with all the symp- 
toms of a violent cold^ But now arrived the 
grand dimacterick of aU my suffering.— 



Mrs. Aimwell, it seems, is celebrated for 
her knowledge of physick, and skill in com- 
pounding medicines. She will unfold to you 
with rare facility, the properties of every 
nostrum, from X\\g simple sj'rup to the most 
complicated of the pectoral compounds. — 
This excellent woman immediately prescrib- 
ed for me, and produced a vast variety of her 
favourite panaceas: almost with tears in her 
eyes, she forced them upon me; and after 
swallowing a portion frorii the whole routine 
of her infallible specificks, t became actually 
sick, and litde less than distracted. It was 
originally, my intention to have protracted 
my visit, according to circumstances, to se- 
vend weeks: but finding it utterly impossi- 
ble to exist in a family, where every one 
seemed conspired to torment me with their 
civilities, I pleaded several indispensable en- 
gagements, and pronounced my farewell; re- 
solving never again to encounter, if possible, 
the mistaken politeness of this benevolent 
family. B. 



FOa THB XVRAL ViSITEa. 

^ If the foUowinr lines have no claim to poetiek me- 
ritf the Editors of the Rural Visiter may perhaps al- 
low them a place in their paper as the production of 
a youthful muse, and a very inadequate tribute of 
filkndsoip to the memoty of J. M. H. 

In this still hour when darkness reiens around. 
And sighing zephyrs fan the waving trees. 

What voice salutes us from the silent ground. 
And seems to speak iii every mournful breeze ! 

Ah cease»*«tstrain these tributary tears^ 
Since human minda such varied tumults share, 

Ko breast secure from trembling hopes and fears. 
No draught of joy— but poison min^s there. 

Heaven, from this changing scene of shadowy xugfat» 
Its kindred spurit, pitying, saatch'd away, 

To dwell hnmortal in the realms of light. 
In the bright sunshine of eternal day. 

Thus reason sot9ks^-^but JrkruUbip claims a tear. 
Since now oi* friendship can delight no more, 

Whom bounteous nature, gave a lu^rt ain^re. 
And Kberal sdcnce— all her richest stoie. 

Ah where is fled that once illumin'd mind{ 
Where pure devotion fix'd her mild control* 

Where every gentle, generous feeling jofai'd. 
To heavenly harmony atttm'd his soul. 

In the soft light of evening's silver queen. 
When vernal breezes ofpe the scented flowerst 

No more Uiat Rihxi will hail the genial scene. 
Those tocuU virtuea gild the passing hours. 

So oft in storms--^ stream of gleaming li^t 
By mortals seen on ocean*s tro«bled bed, 

With pleasing wonder strikes the admiring sight, 
Sparidesy dslights, and is forever fled. 

Thy pure oTample from this last retreat. 
Shall stHl dicect us; while to memory given^ 

Through these dark mazes guide our erring feet. 
And pmnt triumphant to thy native heaven. 

May spring's sofV breadi a verdant carpet spread. 
And nature's eariiest, sweetest blonoms bloom, 

The setting tan his mildest lustre shed; 
And blttih serenely on thy early tomb. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



RHAPSODIST. 
No. III. 

A MIDNIGHT SOLILOQUY. 

'Ti8 but a dream— 'lis surely but a dream— 
Imagination, while my senses slumbered. 
Has wanton'd DiHth her power— and made my soul 
Witness to scenes of wratlt— but 'tis not so. 
The wind indeed^ in howling eddies whirled, 
Now, rushing o'er the moutd'ring turrets* pride, 
Compels the tenant owlet to forego 
Her wonted plaint— to me (famiBar grown) 
Not hidoous, but in concert with my grief, 
Mooms o'er old Douglass' desolated haJls.— 
Yet here's no cause for dread. These ancient walls 
Though once the safeguard of an ample fund. 
That might have tempted robbery, and caus'd 
Some nnidnight watchings in their lawful owner^ 
Include no more their builder, nor his treasure. 
These once ^y chambers, cheerful now no more, 
Stript of theur former graces, seem to mourn 
A family extinct, or soon to be.— - 
Yet what to me! or what to this brave world! 
It cares not; and I soon shall cease to care. 
• • • « • • * 

"There is .another and a hcuer world"— 
A better ^it7e^/e<i«e— and soon the way 
By which my Kindred pass'd, shall ope for me— 
A gloomy way— but shall 1 fear to follow? 
Or shall I doubt that 1 shall meet tbem there? 
Conscience, support me! Truth! if I am wrong 
Suffer the harmless errour. — Let me hope 
Till time itself shall break the fond delusion. 
But why (secure in poverty and peace) 
Disturbed my midnight hours with frightful dreams? 
Why do I hear the horrid din of arras? 
The widow's plaint8^ the helpless vii^n's shrieks? 
What these to me? no wife have 1 to widow— 
My sisters— they're beyond the reach of harm. 
Do, demagogues, your worst— rage civil discora: 
Who little owns can surely little lose— 
My single self— but these are selfish though ts-p- 
My country still is dear-— may future days 
Ne'er see her widows, nor her virgins wronged. 
One virgin too there is, I may not name. 
Without distinction, midst my country's fair- 
Would she be mine ' 

She will be mine— Yet Douglass' name shall Hve; 
Descend to future ages; and reilourish 
With deepening root, and wide extended branch* 
It may be so— On this I'll sleep again; 
If not, perchance thcK fancied miseries, 
Like those I pass through in my nightly dreams, , 
Shall vanish when I wake in th' other world; 
That happy country where they "marry not," 
But love refin'd rules all — there may I meet 
Her whom I lov'd on earth, and love again 
With such a love as binds the souls in heaven; 
A brother's for, a aster— Children then 
Of one all-good, one never dying Parent.-^^^ 

Eastern Shore, Marylahd. 

FOB THE RURAL VISITER* 

*' Man's greatest enemy is man.** 
To prove the truth of this maxim, we 
have only to notice what passes every day 
within the circle of our own immediate ob- 
servation. When we see the unfortunate 
debtor dragged from wife, children, and all 
the tender charities of life, and confined 
within the drear)' walls of a prison— depriv- 
<?d of that liberty which is the birthright of 
humanity^ and left to pine in solitude and 
want; how appropriate h our motto; with 
confidence we say, of a truth 

*i Man's greatest enemy is man.** 
When, in the dreary season of frost and 
snow, the poor, the widow, and the father- 
less, suppbcate for fuel to preserve life from 
the chilling blasts of winter; and when a 
griping son of Mammon denies it but to the 
last mite v Lich extortion can demand, do 
we not say, in truth 

•• Man's greatest enemy is man?^ 



If in the dispensations of Providence, sick* 
ness visits the dwelling of honest toil, till the 
means of subsistence are reduced to the 
lowest ebb: if in this state of distress, the 
landlord calls for rent, and turning a deaf 
ear to the gende voice of humanity, be robs 
from the victim of disease artd pain, the 
bed which sustains his infirni body-— then, 
while we shudder at this monster in human 
shape, we emphatically exclaim, 

•* Man*tf greatest enemy is man.** 
When in the courts of law, we see the 
chicanery of the knave purchased by the gold 
of the opulent, to crush the son of depend- 
ence into the dust, we turn indignantly from 
the sight, and in the honesty of feeling ex- 
claim, 

•* Man*s g^atest enemy is man." 

We know many, who, though not the 
victims of actual oppression, yet suffer in 
silence the accumulated evils of sickness and 
poverty, with hardly sufficient to keep the 
trembling soul in its tabernacle of clay. To 
such let the hand of beneficence be opened — 
to such let the soft voice of compassion con- 
vey the sweet sounds which gladden the 
heart, and bring many blessings upon the 
giver. Are not the feelings of humanity 
shining in the eyes of beauty, while contem- 
plating the objects which are made bappy 
through her instrumentality? Yesj I see the 
glistening tear — the tear of pleasure, which 
trembles on the cheek while witnessing the 
gratitude of an aifectionate family, the re- 
cipients of hei* kindncss-^Never did she ap- 
pear more lovely. 

My friend?, I speak not of that which 
exists in the imagination only. Business 
lately called uie to a dwelling in which pover- 
ty and wretchedness claimed their abode. In 
a large room, through the sides of which 
time had made passages for the pelting of 
the pitiless storm, sat a sick woman, over a 
hanaful of dying embers. . Near her stood a 
table, round which were two shivering, rag- 
ged children, picking some very coarse, 
hard crusts. My business was soon finished, 
and the litde chance I had was left on the 
table. In passing from the house, the fol- 
lowmg passage from Cowper, struck me 
most forcibly: 



-choosing rather far 



A dry but independent crust, hard earned, 
And eaten with a sigh, than t9 endure 
The rugged frowns and insolent rebuffs 
Of knaves in office. 

It is true that many feej the Sowings of 
humanity, and.readily contribute to tlie relief 
of those who apply for it; but it is painful to 
say, I ask. And should the last struggles 
of feeling demand it, and one or two solici- 
tations prove fruitless, it is not hard to be- 
lieve, that the feelings are too niuch wounded 
for a ren«wal of the supplication which is so 
coldly, if not insolently, received. Let those 
who WILL to do well, seek the opportunitj% 

Heaven bom compassion, hither bring 

Thy gifts, the widow's heart to cheer; 
From misery's bosom draw the sting- 
Cause poverty's pale sons to sing, 

And from the orphan wipe the mantling tear. 

LEAJ^DER. 
Feb. IBU, 



From the American Daily Advertiser^ 

MONITORY. 

Spring has ^ways been a most welcome \ 
season. Its returns have been greeted by ' 
youth and by age, by devouon, by friendship ■ 
and love. It has lent wings to the imagina« - 
tion of the poet, and given life to the colour- 
ings of the painter. Even the most msen- 
stUe have felt its animatmg power. Spring 
is a season when our liveliest feelings are | 
enkindled; when we catch, as it were, fi-om 
the life and joy of nature, and our affections, 
like the opening rivers just freed from their 
icy chains, are Sowing in a thousand chan- 
nels» 

But to the pious mind Spring brings pecu- 
liar pleasures. The Christian can ta^e the 
full charm of imagination and feeling, and 
they are all enlivened by the sweet inftuoice 
of Religion. For him the season is crowded 
with instruction.~In every object he be- 
holds, he finds something to kindle bis gra- 
titude and love. In the new creation around 
him, bursting into life and beauty, he sees 
the forming and renewing power of God. — 
In the mild air he breathes, in the genial sun 
that warms him, in the tender bud and 
opening flower, he sees the goodness and 
watchful care of the same gracious Bcin^. 
The rivers bursting from their enclosures, 
and watering and fertilizing the earthy re- 
mind him of that Divine benevolence, which 
gladdens universal nature; while in the gen* 
tie showers he beholds an emblem -of that 
tender mercy which, like the dew of heaven, 
has sometimes refreshed his souL 

The Spring too awakens him to holy reso- 
lution— ^In the barren torpidness tfusit has 
preceded, he sees too just a picture of his 
own unfruitful sluggishness, while in the an- 
imation that now smiles around him he is 
quickened to a heavenly vigour. The seeds 
and blossoms of the SjH-ing remind him of the 
seeds of grace, which must be planted in his 
soul, while this new life and beauty of crea- 
tion carry his hopes to that glorious resurrec- 
tion, when these seeds shall have ripened to 
an immortal harvest; when he shall be array- 
ed in new splendour and his niortal aludl be 
clothed with immortality. 

The Spring lias ofren been called an em- 
blem of the resun-ection, and with toany of 
the most beautiful objects in nature it<6eems 
to prefigure this glorious change. If to the 
deformity and barrenness of Winter succeed 
the verdure and the charms of Sprmg; if the 
crawling, loathsome worm is transfont&ed to 
the winged cmd gaudy butterfly; if the help- 
less infant is advanced to the mature and 
perfect man; — ^if through Aevsoious changes 
of our being we are raised from weakness to 
strength, from ignorance to knowledge, awl 
even from shi to virtue; may we not bone, 
that after death we shall live in ^xvryi that 
our corruption shall be changed to incor- 
ruption; our human imperfections to angel- 
ick purity, our scanty knowledge to convm- 
cing light; our earthly sorrows to inunortal 
bliss. 

*^ The soul of the true christiam,*' sayi 
one,* whose exalted powers were beautifullr 
* Pretident Edwards' J«unMd. 



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iy7 



combined with the piety he, has described, 
*' the soul of the christian appears Uke one 
of those tender flowers of the Spring, low 
and humble on the ground, opening its bo- 
som to recei\'e the pleasant oeam^ of the 
sun's glory; rejoicing in a calm rapture, dif- 
fusing around a sweet fragrancy; standing 
peacefully and lovingly in the midst of other 
flowers around it; all in like manner oJ»ening 
their bosoms, to drink in the light of the 
sun." 

This tender flower is here exposed to 
many a rough blast, and to the chilling frosU% 
of Winter. — It grows up with weeds that 
would exhaust its nourishment, and its beau- 
ty is in contmual danger from the rude hand 
of the passenger. But it is watched and 
watered by heaven, and it shall not fade nor 
wither. It shall take root and blosom upon 
earth; and then shall be transplanted to the 
heavenly paradise to bloom and flourish in 
an eternal Spring. 



FOB,TB£ RVRAL VISITER. 

LIVING CHARACTERS. 

No. I. 
The proper study of mankind, is man. 

POP*. 

Living characters, if virtuous^ though they 
may possess many peculiarities, aflbrd us a 
go<xl lesson by which to regulate our con- 
duct; and if the contrary, they at least pro- 
claim "beware," and point out to us a bea- 
con that we should be sedulous to avoid* In 
the centre of a certain village in this state, 
resides an old and respectable friend: and 
though he differs from many, yet his eccen- 
tricities should not be considered as faults. 
Sitting in my study the other evening, unable 
with ail my blowing to make the fire bum, I 
thrfew down the bellows in rather an ill hu- 
mour, and sauntered to his house. From a 
long continued acquaintance, I had for spme, 
time made it a rule to enter without ktiock- 
ing, willing to put no one to trouble when it 
could be as easily avoided; and besides, go- 
ing in without sounding the alarm declares 
an intimacy exists. In one comer of the 
flre-place he sat, with his shoes off, toasting 
his feet, enjoying the pleasures of a pipe, and 
poring over an ancient work of useful max- 
ims: beside him on a stand lay a Geograp&y, 
Atlas, and several large books treating on As- 
t ronomy. Chemistry, &c. In the other comer 
sat his wife, a cleanly looking woman, knit- 
ting apair of stockings for her husband; while 
on her forehead rested a pair of specs, with 
exactly one eye and an half,, which served her 
tailiscover whenever she "dropped a stitch:" 
and between them four healthy boj's, busy 
with their Latin and English Grammars, 
Dictionary, &c. I immediately seized a chair 
and drew it up to the fire; my good friend at 
the same time shoving away his stand. One 
of the boys taking my hat, I was directly fur- 
nished with a pipe well charged, a glass of 
choice cider, and an apple. After the usual 
round of inquiries had been gone through, 
my ^losophick friend addressed me thus: 
** \Vhat now are your thoughts of mankind; 



does not every day convince you more and I 
more of their deception? 'tis a pity> indeed, 
the virtuous could not be separated from the 
unprincipled; they are but adders tr) ing to 
destroy each other; as the s^jortsman hunts 
the stag, so man pursues man — the toppling 
and the fool (synonymous terms) we see ad- 
mired and enriched J while those more wor- 
thy are scarcc4y looked upon, exccpUng widi 
scorn or some evil design. I am indeed 
heartily tired of society; I ^\^uld v/illingly 
withdraw to some remote fort 't, if I could be 
sure no human foot but mine would ever 
mark the sand till my decease, and spend tiie 
remainder of my days in happiness and pray- 
er." But, it must be remembered, that the 
old gentleman had spent much of his time in 
reading, and in making experiments, which 
will procure but a scanty subsistence: that he 
placed more confidence in the Jrie.idshifi of 
ihe worlds than what any <5ne more acquaint- 
ed with it would have done ; supposing all 
men like himsell', free, open, and generous, 
and wiDing to relieve the necessitous wher- 
ever they were to be found: — this may be his 
cause for a disgust of society. After railing 
for some time, he gave a deep groan, and 
three or four very sudden whiffs, which were 
the signals for a change of subject: — " I have 
j'et some hopes of discovering the Philoso- 
pher's Stone, — I have for some time, been 
studiously engaged in endeavouring to dis- 
cover peq)etual motion; but" added he with 
a smile, '* I have as yet, found nothing as 
near it, as a 7ifomaji*s tongue!^^ ■ 

My friend is a man of good education, and 
great sensibility; and while descanting upon 
some favourite topick, will get so much enga- 
ged as to be compelled to light his pipe at 
least fifty times before the conclusion. Like 
a character spoken of in Salmagundi, 30U 
could generally calculate what merit should 
be attached to the subject, by counting the 
number of times he applied his pipe to the 
candle. His feelings being naturally tender, 
while relating to me some of his misfortunes, 
the "manly tear" will steal down his cheek; 
not a declaration of his weakness, but that he 
has a heart of uncommon goodness : he has 
suffered much, but he bore it with fortitude. 
He generally has a long string of maxims at 
his tongue's end, one of which he will repeat 
about every five minutes; and always after 
making an observation, for the purpose of 
enforcing it. He is neither poor nor rich; but, 
has just about enough to support him during 
life by being economical; and is therefore 
prevented from indulging in that generosity 
and benevolence, to which his amiable dispo- 
sition would prompt him, towards die nume- 
rous objects of ch^ity he daily meets with. 
It is not often the case that he is out of pa- 
tience with mankind, but will now and then 
rail, and afterwards pronounce himself a 
weak man. 

All the family appear to possess similar 
dispositions, and at times arc perfectly hap- 
py ; then again will get in a melancholy 
humour, and think themselves truly misera- 
ble. Finding I had caught diem in one of ^ 
these gloomy fits, and knowing what would 
break the charm, I rose up very soberly, clap- 
ped my hand on the boy's head next me, and 



looking around on th6 family, ex< 
an audible voice, '* Ah! now do I behold tiic 
pleasures of a married life! now do I witness 
connubial felicity!" At this the old man a]>- 
peared much pleased: his vanity was raised, 
for when I looked at his wife, he thought ht* 
could discover something in my face which 
seemed to say, "Your wife is a charmhi^ 
woman! she can make you happy!'' My pip 
^v^as now replenished, they all begged me to 
draw nearer the fire, one giving me an apple, 
another some nuts, a thiid a gUiss of cider, 
V hile the fourth sat wistfully looking in my 
face and dangling the strings at the knees oi' 
my breeches — the knit eyebrows began to 
disappear, and pleasure beamed on every 
countenance. My friend flew to his desk, 
and drawing forth a roll of manuscripts beg- 
ged me to peruse them. By this time the 
clock had struck ten, and concluding my fire 
had began to burn, I took up his packet and 
departed, with a determination to rend them 
at my leisure. ALFRED. 



FOR TBB RUBAL VISITER. 

REFLECTIONS. 

No. L 

It was in the spring of the year, when Na- 
ture was just reviving from the effects of 
a long and dreary winter, and was cloth- 
ing herself in her richest attire; after the 
wearisome toils and labours of the day were 
over, that I wandered into the open fields. 
The western horizon still glowed with the 
last rays of the setting sun; the moon was 
rising in her "clouded majesty;'* and the 
stars which were beginning to appear, were 
again lost in her superiour splendour. I sat 
down upon a hillock under a willow, the end 
of whose branches dipped themselves into 
the brook which glided beneath. While 1 
was contemplating the scene before me, 
which consisted of extensive meadows, bor- 
dered by hills and lofty woods, and listening 
to the soothing sounu of a distant flute; a 
pleasing melancholy was diffused over me : 
my imagination was carried back to that ear- 
ly period of life, when care was a stranger to 
my bosom, when pleasure was my only pur- 
suit, and to pass away the present moment 
my only desire. I reviewed the many 
schemes of happiness which I then formed, 
but how few of them^ave been realized. I 
recollected my former acquaintance: but alas! 
how fcw of them remain with whom I can 
still associate; many have left their native 
country and their relatives to seek in foreign 
climes a subsistence, and many have depart- 
ed from this stage of misery. " They are 
gone, and the memory of them is sweet, but 
it is mournful!'* Thus, though man is doom- 
ed to be disappointed in his expectations rf 
pleasure and of happiness in this world, yet 
even this proves the wisdom and goodness of 
Pro\'idence: for were we not to experience 
disappointments, if there were no alloy to 
our happiness here, why should the good 
man look forward with pleasure to etemitj^ 
when his condition would not be improved, 

r. 



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THE RURAL VISITER* 



SELBOTSP FOR THB AUJUIL VISITXR. 

AN ALLEGORY. 

Among the numerous race of Bedouins, 
who people the vast tracts of Arabia Dcser- 
ta, is a small tribe renaarkable for their habits 
of solitude, and love of independence. They 
are of a rambling disposition, roving from 
waste to waste, slaking their thirst at such 
scanty pools as are found in those cheerless 
plains, and glorying in the uncnvied liberty 
they enjqy. A youthful Arab, a simple son 
of nature, at length growing weary of this 
precarious and unsetded mode of life, deter- 
mined to set out in search of some permanent 
abode. " I will seek," said he, " some 
happy region, some generous clime, where 
the dews of heaven oifFuse fertility; I will 
find QUt some unfailing stream, and forsak- 
ing the joyless life of my forefathers, settle 
on its borders; dispose my mind to gentle 
pleasures and tranquil enjoyments, and never 
wander more*" Enchanted with this picture 
of pastoral felicity, he departed from the 
tcnm of his companions; >and having jour- 
neyed during five days, on the sixth, as 
the sun was just rising in all the splendours 
of the east^ he. lifted up bis eyes, and beheld, 
extended before Wm — ^in smiling luxuriance, 
the fertile regions of Arabia the Happy. Gent- 
ly swelling hills, tufted with blooming groves, 
swept down into luxuriant v^es, enamelled 
with flowers of never withering beaut}*. The 
sun, no longer darting his rays with torrid 
fervour, beamed with a genial warmth that 
glladdened and enriched the landscape. A 
pure and temperate serenity, an air of balmy 
repose, a smile of contented abundance, per- 
vaded the face of nature, and every zephyr 
breathed a thousand delicious odours. The 
soul of the youthful wanderer expanded with 
delight; he raised his eyes to heaven, and 
almost mingled with his gratitude a sigh of 
regret, that he had lingered so long amid the 
sterile solitudes of the desert. With fond 
impatience, he hastened to make choice of a 
stream where he might fix his habitation, 
and taste^ the promised sweets of this land of 
delightf But here commenced an unforeseen 
perplexity, for though he beheld on every 
side innumerable streams, not one could he 
find which answered his high raised expecta- 
tions. One abounded with wild and pic- 
turesque beauty, biit it was capricious and 
unsteady in its coiu-se; spmetiraes dashing its 
angry billows against the rocks, and often 
overflowing its banks. Another -flowed 
smoothly along without a ripple or a mur- 
mur, but its bottom was soft and muddy, 
and its current dull and sluggish. A third 
was pure and transparent, but its waters 
were of a chilling coldness, and it contained 
rocks £Uid flints in its bosom. A fourth was 
dulcft in its tinklings, and graceful in its 
meanderings; but it had a cloying sweetness 
tliat palled upon the taste: while a fifth pos- 
sessed a vivacity and pungency of flavour, 
that deterred the wanderer from repeating 
his draught. The youthful Bedouin began 
to weary with fruidess trials and repeated 
disappointments; when his attention was 
suddenly attracted by a lively brook, whose 
Juijcin>5 waves glittered in the sunbeams, 



4uid whose prattling current communicated 
an air of bewitching gaiety to the surrounding 
landscape. The heart of the " wayworn 
traveller" beat high with expectation; but on 
regarding it attentively in its course, he' 
found that it constantly avoided the embow- 
ering shade; loitered with equal fondness, 
whether gliding through th6 rich valley or 
over the barren sand; that the fragrant flow- 
the fruitful shrub, and the worthless 



er. 



bramble were a^ike fostered by its waves; and 
that its current was often interrupted by 
unprofitable weeds. With idle ambition it 
expanded itself beyond its proper limits, and 
spread into a shallow waste of water, destitute 
of beauty or utility, and babbling along with 
uninteresting vivacity, and vapid turbulence. 
The wandering son of the desert turned 
away with a sigh of regret; and pitied a 
streadi which, if content within its natural 
limits, might have been the pride of the 
valley, and the object of all his M'ishes. Pen- 
sive, musing, and disappointed, he slowly 
pursued his now almost hopeless pilgrimage; 
and had rambled for some time along the 
margin of a gentle rivulet, before he became 
sensible of its beauties. It was a simple, 
pastoral stream, which, shunning the noon- . 
day glare, pursued its unobtrusive course 
throitgh retired and tranquil vales; now 
dimpling among flowery banks and tufted 
shrubbery; now winding among spicy groves, 
whose aromatick foliage fondly bent down to 
meet the limpid wave: sometimes, but not 
often, it would venture from its covert to 
stray through a flowery meadow; but quick- 
ly, as if fearful of being seen, stole back 
again into its more congenial shade, and 
there lingered with sweet delay. Wherever 
it bent its course, the face of nature bright- 
ened into smiles, and a perennial «prhjg 
reigned upon its borders. The warblers of 
the woodland delighted to quit their recesses 
and ciux^l among its bowers; while the turde 
dove, the timid fawn, the sojft eyed gazel, 
and all the rural populace, who joy in the 
sequestered haunts ol nature, resorted to its 
vicinity; its pure transparent waters rolled 
over snow-white sands, and heaven itself 
was reflected in its tranqidl bosom. 

The simple Arab threw himself upon its 
verdant margin. He tasted the silver tide, 
and it was like nectar to his lips — he bounded 
with transport, for he had found the object 
of his wayfaring. " Here," cried he, ^'will 
I pitch my tent — ^here will I pass my days: 
for pure, Oh fair stream! is thy gentle cur- 
rent: beauteous are thy borders! and the 
grove must be a paradise, that is refreshed 
by thy meanderings." 



TfiB SMILX ANO TH* TEA1U 

Said a # mi/e to a tear, 

On the cheek of my dear, 
Ajid bearo'd like the sun in spring weather; 

*• in sooth| lovely tear, 

It strange must appear. 
That we should be both here together.*' 

" I came from the heart, 

A soft balm to impart 
To yonder sad daughter of ericf;"' 

«* And /" said the smile, 

"That heart aow bcgui[c. 
Since you gave the poor mourner reHf f." 



*• Oh!** then said the tear, 

** $weet 4nuie, it is dear, 
We are twins, and soft Pkjt our moihen 

And how lovdy that face, 

Which together we graces 
For the woe and the bfiss of another.'* 



FARMERS! 

Now harrow your Winter Gram Fields. 
Let those who wiU not believe till they sec, 
try parts of their fields, for future conxpari- 
soi^ with those part^ left unharrowed. 

The fear of disturbing a small proportion 
of the plants should have no effect Alight 
harrow, in the direction of the rows of grain* 
will injure but few; and these will be com- 
pensated for ten fold. Those who sow <r&tr«^ 
on their grain, will find the great boiefit of 
this operation. E^ien Timothy will thrive 
tho* some who sow it in the fall are apprehen- 
sive of losing it. Let these, in future, sow 
the Tiinothy with the Clover in the spring, 
and harrow both in together. Timothy sown 
in the spring and thus harrowed in will not 
choak the wheat; as it often does, when sown 
in the falL 

See the 2d Volume of the membtrs of the 
Philadelphia Agricultural Sotiety, pages 9 
and 10-— and Ist Volume, page 88« A 
writer in the 2d Volume remarks:— > 
** I remember, many years ago, reading a 
well writteft paper on this subject, "ftb 
writer, besides detailing the results of sundiy 
experiments, gives likewise the Rationah in 
something like the following words: * In 
every instance where the soil has been foely 
pulverized, whether by harrowing or frost, or 
by any other means; if heavy rains succeed 
and afterwards dt'y weather, a hard and 
compact crust, or cake, is formed all over 
the surface, in which die young plants of 
Wheat, Rye,Barley or Oats stand fixed, as if 
growing out of a brick wall, and by pressing 
against their tender sides, prevent th!e expan- 
sion of their parts.** 

Look now over your fields; and see the 
justice of this description. 

The writer goes on to shew that diis hard 
drust prevents access of light and air to the 
roots so necessary to produce vegetation. It 
is deprived of moisture, and full of innume- 
rable cracks which harbour insects, to prey 
on the tender radicles and plants. " But by 
passing a light harrow over the grain in the 
spring as soon as the gr&undis so much har- 
dinned as to bear the horses^ feet without sink' 
inff^ the yoimg plants are relieved from that 
unnatural pressure; a free access is ^iven to 
the light; and air to the! roots. By stirring 
up the soil, a new fermentation is producedt 
and the little insects are dislodged from their 
subterraneous habitations; all their operarions 
disconcerted; and theylth to perish by the 
iutfiueace of .the sim and weather. By this 
operation, the grain, in a few days, acquires 
a fresh vigour, equal, if not isuperfourto 
what might be produced by a top dressing." 
Slight not the advice of 

An Old Practical Farmer, 

*' Hard times P^ — Take away your expcn* 
si ve follies, and you will have little reason 
to complam of <* hard tim^s !** 



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199 



FOA THB RUBAI^ VX8ZTE*. 

HISTORY OF ALVIRA. 

A TALE OF TRUTH. 

(Continiied from p. 184.) 
Tbcophilus took no other notice of Alvi- 
ra's letter, than to read it and consider its 
contents: at least he did not treat her with 
so much respect as to return her an answer; 
neither did he seek to obtain another inter- 
view with her. And for this neglect of so 
amiable a young lady, he iv^is most certainly 
to be blamed. She was a lady of good family, 
genteel f:arriage, handsome, person, tender 
sensibiBty and uuimpeachcd moral characten 
she was tlierefore truly respectable; and the 
least he should have done, was to return her 
an answer to her letter. To do thus much, 
he was bound as a gentleman and a christian. 
This neglect had an unhappy effect on her 
mind, which was prior to mis too much bur- 
dened with ^ief. It kept her a long ti^ in 
suspense; she at first thought her letter had 
miscarried, and could hardly be persuaded to 
the contiTuy, even when the bearer protested 
again and again, that he had been faithful to 
his charge. Her expectation of a reply to it 
was then a little raised, and she was daily 
looking out for a line from Theophilus. Her 
dreams were disturbed with the subject: this 
was manifest to her sisters* who lodged in 
the same room with her; for she would of- 
ten, in her sleep, start up and say, '* What, 
a letter from Theophilus ! I have long been 
expecting one, and have wondered he has not 
written before now!" She would sometimes, 
in conversation with her sisters, when they 
were teasing her on his having forgotten her 
and placed nis affections on anodier, apolo- 
gize for his neglect by saving, that •' he was 
probably not in good health, and she should 
hear from him as soon as he recovered: or, 
that it was very likely he had been called 
away from home soon after he had received 
her letter, and would take care to write her 
as soon as he returned; and she could not be- 
lieve that he would pass her by unnoticed." 
So prone is love to cover with its friendly man^ 
tie the grossest unkindness of the person be- 
loved; and, though in Alvira, the exercise of 
this temper was no great virtue — because she 
ought tQ have summoned resolution enough 
to forget him, who had so long neglected her 
without any just cause; yet how happy it is 
for those who are united in virtuous friend- 
ship, or by the silken cords of Cupid, when 
they can throw over the faults of their friends 
or companions the cloak of love. The writ- 
er of this histor}', who is as m ell acquainted 
with Theophilus ashe ever was or could be 
with any man— w1k> entered into the feel- 
ings of his heart, and could during the whole 
of his life, read in his language and conduct, 
the secret motions of his soul; has frequent- 
ly heard him say, that **he sincerely regretted 
his not having returned an answer to Alvira^s 
letter, that it was an errour of his you^ 
which, if he had his life to live over again, 
he would most certainly correct:— -that as he 
advanced in years, he viewed this circum- 
stance very cUfferentiy from what he did in 
the earlier part of his life: and that he had no 



doubt, it would be a matter of grief to him as 
long as he lived*" My young sir, be cau- 
tious in your approaches to young ladies, in 
like circvimstances! Be very careful how you 
treat them. Remember you are acting for 
yourself; your conduct will hereafter be re- 
membered with approbation or regret, accor- 
ding as it is worthy of praise^or liable to cen- 
sure. Do not unnecessarily wound the vir- 
tuous and sensible female, who at least de- 
mands your esteem, and may well deserve 
your love. Do not, by vour thoughtless folly, 
place thorns in that pillow, on which you will 
wish to repose in old age! Or, if an early 
death awaiu you, prepare for it by a repent- 
ance of all your sins, by faith in the Saviour 
of Men, and by a conscientious obedience of 
the law of kindness. 

Two months had now passed, and as Al- 
vira had received no communication from 
Theophilus, she began to conclude that be 
was forever lost to her. This conclusion waa 
strengthened by the rumour that prevailed of 
his paying hb addresses to Lucretia. Alvira 
observing him ride by the house one day, 
said, ^^ ourely Theophilus has forgotten us 
since the death of our papa : before that pe- 
riod, he used to call on us almost every con- 
venient opportunity;*' and tears involuntarily 
started from her eyes, and rolled down her 
cheeks. The real cause of the tears, was the 
apparent neglect of the man she loved; ac- 
companied with the reflection, that this might 
justly be attributed to hex own folly : but 
knowing that her mother and sisters saw her 
weep, and that they would suspect she wept 
on account of Theophilus, she immediately 
wiped off the tears, and turning to them saia, 
" My dear Papa! who can refrain from weep- 
ing, when they think on the loss of so kiiKl 
a parent as he was?" She was not mis- 
taken in her judgment concerning Tlieophi- 
lus; for the friendly intercourse, which had 
for some months been kept up between him 
and Lucretia, was now setded into a firm at- 
tachment. He found that she was in pos- 
session of his heart, declared his passion, and 
urged her to an avowal of her sentiments 
towards him. She, having for some time 
past entertained for him an unfeigned friend- 
ship, felt now that her attachment deserved 
a better name; and believing him to be sin- 
cere, rrankly confessed diat she loved him; 
and mutual vows were exchanged. These 
vows were not made in that thoughtless and 
unconcerned manner, which is too conunon 
on similar occasions: but under a proper 
sense of the solenm engagements they were 
just entering into— of die sacred connexion 
that they contemplated forming; so that, if 
at a future period, their fondest wishes 
should be realized, they might with pious 
fervour look up to their heavenly father, and 
with confidence solicit his blessing. 

It was a litde after this, that Theophilus, 
having determined on a journey to the banks 
of the Ohio, found it was necessary for him, 
in order to accomplish hi» purpose, to go to 
the house of his late guardian. He by no 
means went thither of choice; for he did not 
wish an interview with Alvinu he remem- 
bered that he had treated her unpolitely and 
unkindly, in not returning an answer to her 



letter; and as guilt makes cowards, he rather • 
feared than wished to see her. Alvira was 
by some means or other apprized of his com- 
ing; and had prepared both her mind and 
person for the occasion. When he appeared, 
she was the first person who met him at the 
door, and bade him welcome to her modicr's 
house. The venerabfe matron and her daugh- 
ters were very kind and conversable; but 
Alvira was uncommonly cheerful, and con- 
trary to her usual custom, engrossed a laig-e 
part of the conversation. Her person was 
set off to the best advant;ige; whidi, added 
to her cheerfulness and flow of pleasantry, 
gave her a superiority in appearmice to al- 
most any of her sex. Theophilus, contrar)* 
to what he had expected, felt himself delight- 
ed with her company and conversation; and 
the hour which he had to spare glided quietlv 
and pleasandy away. Various were the top- 
icks upon which they conversed; and amon^ 
others, Layina introduced Lucretia; at thr 
mention of whose name Alvira blushed, and 
for a moment was evidently confused: shi^ 
however soon recovered her 8prighdiness.-<— 
At parting, the old lady gave him her hand, 
and with-it her blessing; adding, that she 
should be glad to see him at her house again 
when he returned from the westward* Each 
of the daug^ters^ in the order of seniority 
gave him her hand: but on receiving this to- 
ken of friendship froiji Alvira, he observedau 
unusual smile on her countenance; and pres- 
sing her hand, he at the same time kissed 
her; which was a familiarity he did not at- 
tempt to take with either of the other sisteft. 
Thus, very naturally, leaving the impression 
on her mind, that she was still the object of 
his tender regard. 

How great, alas! is the folly of youth! — 
What bitter reflections does it produce in ri- 
per years! How imprudent to nourish that 
flame, which was biu^ing in the gentle breast 
of this lovely girl! Here again, Theophilus 
was highly culpable: be knew Alvira's pas- 
sion for him; he knew diat he loved, and had 
plighted his faith to another, and therefore 
was not at libert)' to renew his addresses to 
her: yet he Imprudently implies by his act- 
ions at parting, that he esteems her m prefer- 
ence to all others. Cruel and tmgenerous 
Theophilus! She did not deserve to suffer 
what she already did; and this treatmenjt 
would have the effect to strengthen and con- 
firm her passion! I have myself heard The- 
ophilus reprobate his conduct in the strong- 
est terms: not only because he acted a fool- 
ish and unfeeling part, but. also because be 
had, as he conceived, offended his God, in 
authorizing by his conduct, ah inference that 
his sentiments were different from what they 
really were. 

( Tq be continued*) 



SIPIGRAM. 

Young Corydc^. a forward bUde« 
The {^spring of a squire. 

Addressed a lovely blooming maid 
Whose father was a dyer. 

<*A dyer*s daughter!" cries his dad, 
"What, marry her! Oiie!'* 

^Why not« sir?** says the honest lad| 
••You know we all must £^e/*' 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



HOW DTE DO, AND GOOD BYE. 

BV lUE BOif. H. W. SPBSCER. * 

One cUy Good bye met How dy*e do. 

Too close to shun saluting, 
But soon the rival sisters flew 

FrCnn kissing to disputing. 

•• Away !" says How d'ye do, "your mien 

*♦ Appals my cheerful nature; 
•« No name so sad as yours, is seen 

*• In sorrow's nomciKlature. 

" Whene'er I give one sunshine hour 

Your cloud comes in to shade itj 
Whene'er I plant one bosom's flow'r, 

Your mildew drops to tade it, 

** Kr^ How d'ye do has tun'd each tongue 
. To * hope's delighted measure,' 
Goodbye in friendship's ear has rung 
The knell of parting pleasure. 

"From sorrows' past my chemick skill 

Draws smiles of consolation; 
While you from present joys distil 

The tears of separation." 

Good bye replied i *'your statement's true, » 
And well your cause you've pleaded; 

But pray who'd think of How d*)C do. 
Unless Good bye preceded? 

•'Without my prior influence 

Could you have ever flourished, 
And can your band one flow'r dispense* 

But what my tears have nourished?* 

**JIotv oft, if at the court of lovt 

Concealment be the fashion, 
When How dy'e do has fail'd to move, 

Good bye reveals the passion ! 

^'How oft, when Cupid's fires dccrme 
* As evtry heart remembers — 
One sigh of mine, and only mine, 
Kevives the dying embers I 

"Go, bid the tmiid lover choose, 

A nd I'll resign ray eharter. 
If he for ten kind How d'ye do's 

One kind Good bye would barter ! ' 

"From I-ote Sft Friendship's kindred source 

We both derive existence ; 
And they would both lose half their force 

Without our joint assistance. 

"Tis well the world our merit knows. 

Since time (there's no denying) , 
One half in l;ow d'ye-doing goes, 

And fother ift Good byeing.** 

rOK THE tVaAL VJSITBR. 
Mjl.l^ITOR, 

As your pt^>er is devoted to literary purposes, 
no doubt the literati will be highly gratiHed by the 
following elegant specimen of 8ui)erb composition, 
which was posted up by the author, in the market place 
of this city. I send you the original, that you may co- 
py it 'oerbatim et litcratum. X. 

1811 March 18th Take Notis 

Thate Subescriber is Going 
to leve the plase & he has Reqested al thatc 
wai-e ihdetid to himto Mak amidiat Pay- 
ment & al thos thate have any Demans 
a^aintshimto Bringe in theire Counts for 
Sittillmuut if Not Sittiled be fore the twety 
thcaird day of this IMount the Bookes well 
sartingley be Put in the offissur hand for 

Collexshun. 

QjF* How any man, who is in the habit of seeing 
Hooks and transacting business, can be so very igno- 
rant, is beyond my comprehension. 



To CORRESPONDENTS. 
We advise Strepbon, by all means, to take without 
delay, some cooling medicines; and for Six months, at 
the least, to avoid the sight of Flavia's bright eyes— 
" Certain death" deserves serious consideration. 

O. G. had better perhaps apply for a patents if ue 
has actually mad«the discovery, that musick, whether 
harmonious or discordant, wiU dislodge theewV spirits 



INTELLIGENCE. 

OO^ESTICK. 

We understand (says the National InteUigencer of 
Tuesday last) that Mr. Smith has resigned the post of 
Secretary of State, and that James Munroe, Esq. of 
the commonwealth of Virginia, has been a|ipointed 
by the l*resident of the United States to hll that 
station. * 

Penitentiary ^Frtem.— The committee appointed by 
the legislature of Virginia, report a highly favourable 
account of the State Prison, or Penitentiary of that state; 
from which it appears that the net profits of the insti- 
tutions, since April, 1807, amount to upwards of 
g 40,000— thus demonstrating that the safety of the 
commonwealth, the gratification of mercy and phi- 
lanthropy; and the pecuniary interests of the slate, 
have alt been promoted by this system of preventative 
and retributive justice. 

In an article of the National Intelligencer, furnish, 
ed by the post office department, it is stated that the 
number of post offices in the United States, on the 
10th of February last, amounted to 2,403— the length 
of post roads to 57,035 miles, and the yearly trans- 
portation of the mails to 5,534,688 miles. 

A plate of silver, apparently very pure, weighing 
6 dollars 25 grains, has been made out of 421b. ore, 
found at the forks of Scioto. The quantity of ore 
there U said to be inexhaustible. The above 42 lbs, 
were broke*! off a rock supposed to weigh 15 tons. 

FOREICSf. 

The Island of Curracoa, mentioned in our last as 
having been sunk by an earthquake on the 9tli of 
February, formeriy belonged to the Dutch It was 20 
mUes long and 10 miles broad, and contaraed one of 
the largest and cleanliest towns in the West Indies. 
The publick buildings were numerous and handsome, 
the pnvate houses commodious, ahd the magazines 
large, convcmcnt, and xveH fiUed with productions 
from all parts of the world. All kind of labour was 
there pertbrraed by engines, and some of theift were 
so well contrived that shij)s were at once lifted out of 
dock. It was. a place of very considerable trade, dis- 
tant 2o leagues from the continent of South America 

In Mexico, the party for Ferdinand at present pre- 
vails— but the native inhabitants, and great body of 
the people, are in favour of independence, and in- 
creasing in strength and innportance. Hopes are enter- 
tained that they will ultimately succeed, though the 
chief part of the arms and warlike stores were in the 
hands of the loyahsts. 

In Caraccas the revolution is complete, and a free 
representative government has been eaiablished. Some 
small districts have infused to come into the new sys- 
tem of thmgs, but are too unimportant to change the 
general aspect of aft'airs. 

Peru has been shaken by dreadful comm.otions, and 
much blood has been shed by the contending parties. 
•Our knowledge of the progress of this country towards 
Its independence is very imperfect, but what we liave 
heard is lavourable to freedom. 

La Plata, with the exception of Monte Video and 
Its dependent district, is deckiedly in the hands of the 
revolutionists; and we are mformcd many presses are 
established m the country that freely disCuss on men 
and measures. Tlie people of Monte Vid«), if not 
tnJirecdy supported by the British, must soon come 
into the measures generally adopted, being too weak 
to resist the force of Buenos Ay res. 

Chili, we have reason to believe 'has thrown off the 
shackles of dependence, and established a liberal iro. 
vemment. * 

What a variety of reflections aiisc from a considera- 
tion of these events! How important to the moral and 
commercial worldl 

Hostilities have been renewed between the Russians 
and the Turks. 

Accounts in England from Hamburgh we« to J a- 
nuary 18th, firom Gottenburgh to the 26th, and from 
Heligoland to February 3d. 

Parliament was opened by commission from the 
Pnncc of Wales on the 12ih of February, and the 
speech delivered by the Commissioners. His royal 
highness hopes that he shall be enabled to affoid to 
Spain and Ponugal, a continuance of that support 
which their energy appears to deserve; he compli- 
ments lord Wellington and his army; he remarks that 
the captures of Bourbon and Java,* have still lessened 

[* \ye believe there has been no account of the cap- 
ture of Java, probably it is an errour of the press—and 
ought Mohave been Isle of Ftaacc.] 



the enemy's colonies: He states that the revenue ha: 
been more productive than ever. With regard to Ame- 
rica the speech states that liis royal highness will be 
very happy if he shall be~able to bring the negotiation 
to a favburable conclusion, always regarding what k 
due to the rights and interests of his Majesty^ domin- 
ions. 

In the commons, Mr. Milncs, who moved to ad- 
dress an answer to the speech, exjiressed his opinion, 
that the vacillating conduct of France tawcirds Ame- 
rica would tend to bring to a favourable conclusion the 
negotiation between that country and England. 

The Uegent in his speech says nothing respectin? 
peace. « *- i 

LoNDOK, February 2.— His Majesty's Advocate, o- 
Tuesday, read in the Admiralty Court a letter whk- 
be received from Lord Wellesley. desiring that all pre* 
ceedmgs against the brig Fox, and other vessels sim . 
lariy circumstanced.* might be stayed, until fats Ma- 
jesty*s pleasure can be taken respecting them. 

Tortosa. in Spain, has falleft to the French, after a 
siege-of 13 days open trenches. It 8unendei«d on the 
first day of the year, when a garrison of nine thous- 
and five hundred men laid down their arms, and be 
came prisoners of war. The enemy, sensible of x\^ 
value of this acquisition, lost no .time in endeavonrijtf 
to turn it to account. Marshal MacdonaW immedi. 
ately matched to invest Tarragona, which wc much 
fear, wili shortly, tf not already taken place, foUoip 
the ute of Tortosa. 

By the cartel arrived from France, an American 
Messenger has come over with de spatches to Mr Pink 
ney, the contents of which have not yet traiftpSred h 
IS suted, however, from very good authority, that iW 
relate solely to some new arrangements of the French 
government respecting American commerce, whicli ii 
said to be a relaxation of the system in its favour.- 
It IS further stated, that the Beriin and Milan decrees, 
w far as they ^late to America, are from the aTTf 
February inst. finally to cease and terminate. That A 
American ships and cargoes, provisionally detained ia 
the porta of France or those of her dominiq«sa«iok 
restored, and that lienccforwaid vessels from the U^ 
ted States are to be freely admitted. 

Advices by'^the Anholt Mail state, that a demand of 
^seamen for the French navy has been m^^hZ 
Sweden. b«t has been refused, as inconsistent witbT 
Uws of the kingdom. A simUar requisition made 
froni Dantzic. will, no doubt, be more favmiraWv lis. 
tened to. , It is stiU reported, that thereare disturl^. 
ees m Norway on account of the naval conscripti<«. 
There is also a rumour of somedifferentes betwceVS 
Courts of Sweden, Denmark and Russia, 

February 12.— Advices irom St. Peiersbur^b, toi 
late date state, that an Ukase has been pid)lialid bv 
the Russian Government, permitting the entrance oi' 
bona Jide American vessels in Russian ports, on the 
payment of ceriam duUes, as specified in a Tariff an- 
nexed to the Order. ' 

The inhabitants of the Valais, SwitzeHawL nesisted 
the execution of the order for annexing that territor? 
to France; but were ovei'powered by Frendi troops J. 
Three hundred Swiss were kmed and 600 wounded. 

• Ci^ured under the Orders in Coundl. 



MARRIED— by the Rev. Mr. Richards,Mr. Amos 
Mercelle, to Miss Susan Looker, all of Newark. Mr. 
James Neilson, merchant of New-Brunswick, to Miss 
Rivine Forman, daughter of the late Cen, Forraan, of 
Monmouth county. At New- York, by the Rev. Mi 
Robinson, Mr. Nathaniel O. Condit, to Miss Pfaebe 
Crane, formerly of Newark. . 



DIED— K)n Friday morning, the 5th instant, Mr. 
Jennet West, of this chy. • 



Prices current at Burii/tg-ton. 

Wheat ..w.S^,00 

Rye. 1^ 

Indi^ Corn ,.* iO,66 

Oats...».*««..«, ..••..••.. 40 

Flax-....,.. .^ .....o',14 



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** Homo sum ; humani nihil a me aHenurn putoJ*^ — JIa?i and his cares to me a mariy are dear* 



9BBBMS 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, FOURTH MONTH (APRIL) 15th, ISIL 



No. 38. 



THE RECORDER. 



No. XXXVIl. 
-Mimium ne crede colori. 



ViRClI.. 



Many opinions which have been entertain- 
ed by the generality of mankind, and which 
have Been discarded from a full conviction 
that they were erroneous, have in reality 
been addpted and neglcctfed with equal pre- 
cipitancy and injustice. PrincijJes and sen- 
timent worthy of notice have been extended 
too far, and having thus deteived the expec- 
tations of those by whom they were cherish- 
ed, have been entirely neglected. There 
are many things, which upon a candid in- 
vestigation into their real merits, their utility 
in promoting the paiticular ends for which 
they were designed, and for which alone 
they were calculated, appear admirably ad- 
apted to supply our exigencies and wants; 
but which if generally adopted and univer- 
sally applied, lose their character as reason- 
aWe, and become the efficient causes of many 
pernicious consequences. Most of our na- 
tural propensities if indulged without res- 
traint, if stimulated by excitement, may be- 
come powerful agents to disorganize our 
ftame, and unsettle us for our proper ptu"- 
suits; though given us to promote the veiy 
cause which they so forcibly tend to subvert. 
There exists a strong analogy between the 
physical and moral creation; many principles 
are good and connect in particular situations, 
which in others possess an entirely different 
character. When Virgil, in the sixth book 
of his Eneid, represents Dido as turning 
from Eneas, without deigning to answer Kis 
supplicating address, he imitated nature and 
was truly beaudful; but when he afterwards 
attribtcted die same behaviour to another, 
the beauty was lost; for it was not appropri- 
ate. Bf resolving aU phenomena mto one 
or two causes, we simjdify too nmch, we go 
as much beyond the bounds of truth, as the 
I^loaopher who maintained that evenr trudi 
was deducible from one great principle. 
What Horace has observed, though spewing 
of another subject, may be very properly 
s^plied to this. 

<* Sunt certi, denique fine«, 
Qttos ultniy citraqne neqtut consisiere rectum.^ 

There is a particular point, beyond which, 
if we pass, our motion must be retrograde* 

There are few cases, in which the forego- 
ing observations bear a more forcible and 
correct application, than to the subject of 
physiognomy. Men are fond of determin- 
ing at the first view, upon the disposition, 
talents^ and manners of another, with as 
much confidence as would be allowable after 
a long and intimate acquaintance. But 



though all have been physiognomists, yet 
the experience of every individual mustlorg 
since have convinced him, that litUeorno 
dependence should be placed upon the most 
acute skill. The correct and philosophical 
Cicero in his treatise De Oratore^ says, 
'* omnis motiis animi suiim qiiendam a natura 
habct vuitwfiy tt sonumy et gestinju^^ The 
observation is just, in the latitude meant by 
the author. Every violent emotion of the 
mind may have some external appropriate 
expression; but no countenance is moved by 
fibres :md muscles of such delicate and mi- 
nute organization, as to indicate those deli- 
cate gradations of thought,those finer shades, 
those common feelings which must generally 
prevail in our minds. Were a man continu- 
ally, and without intermission, to direct his 
faculties towards one object, were his mind 
to be governed in all its movements by one 
single predominant impulse, there can be 
litde question but that his countenance would 
bear a chatacteristick stamp. The science 
of physiognomy thus far is founded in na- 
ture. Antecedent to any experience, and 
before our minds are sufficiently vigorous to 
enable us to connect and arrange our ideas, 
some traces of it are obvious. A child at its 
earliest age, perceives the difference between 
a smile and a frown, and testifies this know-* 
ledge by undoubted manifestations of con- 
cern: and the same powers are evinced by 
many inferiour animals. But though I make 
these acknowledgments, though I allow that 
every disposition of the mind, every feeling 
of the heart, imprints a particular character 
upon the countenance; nevertheless, I cannot 
but ejtpress my opinion, that the principle 
has received too great an extension: too 
much efficacy has been attributed to it. Men 
are rarely governed by one single passion; 
their ideas arc various even to infinity; their 
minds are directed to different objects, with- 
in a very short compass of time. They feel 
a thousand different emodons in as many 
minutes; their features bemg acted upon by 
each, the expression must be so changeable, 
and so compounded as to bafBe the utmost 
powers of ourpenetration. The distinguish- 
mg marks of one, must be obliterated or 
altered by the succeeding; and as a body 
propelled by forces acting in different direc- 
tions, takes a course unlike either; so in this 
case, the expression will afford no accurate 
basis on which to found our judgment. The 
force of these objections is much strengthen- 
ed by the consideration, that most men have 
habituated themselves to retain some kind of 
command over their features; and unless 
suddenhr and violently thrown off their . 
guard, keep them in subjection to their will: I 
this renders our judgments extremely preca- I 



rious. Tbemost expert have frequently found 
themselves mistaken; and that their skill 
acquired little of infallibility, by their repeat- 
ed attempts and observations. In fact it is 
impossible that it should be otherwise. Is it 
from the face we judge? The celebrated 
Marshal Turenne, who was a commander 
of the most emment abilities, a man of un- 
common penetration and strength of mind, 
had a countenance so void of expression, so 
depictive of weakness of intellect, that he 
was usually regarded as an idiot by strangers. 
Is it from the conversation? The learned and 
sensible Addison, whose character will be 
revered as long as virtue shall command 
the esteem of men, is universsdly kiiown to 
have been remarkably silent, and even stupid 
in conversation with strangers; and indeed 
among his most intimate companions, sel- 
dom evinced any superiority of mind, until 
his spirits were txhilarated^by conviviality. 
Is it from the manners? What chance would 
Dr. Johnson, " the colossus of Eng^sh liter- 
ature," a man of wonderful expansion ot 
mind — ^have had with these infallible judges. 
Nor are these the only instatices that might 
be adduced; these have been selected because 
they were well knovm; almost every individ- 
ual must have observed among his own ac- 
quaintance, instances perhaps equally re- 
markable. 

It is curious to observe, to what[ different 
and contradictory means men will resort, in 
order to support a favourite opinion. Physi- 
ognomists after proving the rationality of 
their science, and its foundation in nature, 
by the deductions before alluded to, very 
gravely allege as a corroborating fact, tho^ 
story of Socrates and Zopyras; which is thus 
related by Cicero. ^^Zopyrus was a professed 
physiognomist, to whom Socrates offiraed 
himself as a subject upon whom to exert his 
skill* ^ After due examination, the philoso- 
pher pronounced him by the infallible rules 
of his art, an arrant fool and a sensualist.— 
The followers €3i Socrates could not refrain 
fr6m smiling at the grossness of the mistake; 
till Socrates informed them, that his propen- 
sities were naturally such as Zopyrus had 
declared them; and that although he had by 
severe exertibns overcome his constitutional 
inclinations, yet the ph3rsioniomist was a 
man of skiB in his profession.'' Without re- 
marking upon the vanity and presumption so 
strikingly displayed in the answer ox Socra- 
tes, so different from his usual manner, and 
which, it appears to me, is conclusive evi- 
dence that die occurrence is fabulous; I will 
merely ask. Is it possible to fabricate any 
thing, more strcMig^y opposed to the principle 
it was intended to support? Thcuniform te- 
nour of the life of Socrates, w^ diametricallv 



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THE RURAL VISITER, 



opposed to what his countenaoee indicated. 
If the sentiments of the heart, the ideas, the 
feelings, are what give the expression to the 
countenance, how happened they to be so at 
variance in the instance before us? The trudi 
is, it too frequently happens that men of vi- 
vid imaginations and strong feelings, when 
they have once adopted a fiivourite opinion, 
aUow it an ascendency over every other.— 
The scintilUtions of their fancies are mista- 
ken for the sober and temperate light of 
truth: tlieir former sentimei^ts, once equally 
high in their estimation, perhaps more ra- 
tional, are discarded, or reduced to a stete 
of subserviency to the predominant passion 
of the moment. The more important these 
opinions are, with so much the greater faci- 
lity do they change. Trifles are frequendy 
adhered to with a pertinacious obstinacy, 
while the most awful and momentous truths 
are sacrificed at the first suggestions of a 
wandering imagination. Novel doctrines, 
or old doctrines under a new appearance, 
particularly when they flatter darling pro- 
pensities, or tend to exalt man in. his own 
esteem; or sometimes, it would seem, from 
the very absiu-dity they carry on the face of 
them, attract observation, and draw nume- 
rous votaries. The " Credo quia impossi- 
hile est" has been a more general rule of 
faith than is usually imagined. Hence the 
delusion in which mankii^ so long remained 
with regard to alchemy: hence those various 
absurd opinions which have successively 
overrun the world, and enshrouded the minds 
of men in a dark and gloomy night: and hence 
the.visionar)' phantasms of Lavater have 
acquired much of their celebrity. 

SELECTED FR^M THE ADVENTURER* 

The Hero distinjpmhed from the modern 
Man of Honour; exejnpiifedhi the hhtory 
ofEugenio* 



(Continued from p. 194.) 



£t furiis agitatus amor.< 
Love, v»hic\i tht furi€9 irriutc |o rage* 



Virgil. 



It happened tliat alx>ut this time she was 
addressed by Ventosus, the eldest son of a 
noble family; who besides a large estate, had 
great expectations from his father's influence 
at court. Ventosus, though he was strongly 
recommended by Agrestis, and was remark- 
able for personal accomplishments, was yet 
received with great coldness by Amelia: he 
was surprised, mi.rtified, and disappointed; 
\ et he continued his visits, and was very 
diligent to discover what had prevented his 
success. One evening, just as he was aliout 
to take his leave, after much ineffectual en- 
treaty and complaint, Eugenio unexpectedly 
entered the room. Ventosus instandv re- 
marked the embarrassment both of his mis- 
tress and the stranger, whom he, therefore, 
supposed to be a rival, and no longer won- 
dered at his own disappointment: these sus- 
picions were every moment confirmed and 
mcreased: for his presence produced emo- 
tions which could neither be concealed nor 
mistiiken; thougTi by a less penetrating eye 



than that of jealousy, they might have been 
overlooked. 

He was now fired with resentment and 
indignation; and liaving left the room some- 
what abruptly, he was met upon the stairs by 
Agrestis, with whom he desired to speak a 
few words in private. Agrestis turned back 
into another apartment; and Ventosus told 
him with some warmth, that he did not ex- 
pect to have found hb daughter pre-engaged; 
and that lie could nothe^ thinking himself 
in treated. Agrestis, with equal warmth, 
required him to explain his meaning; and 
after some time had been spent in eager al- 
tercation, they parted in better temper; Ag- 
restis persuaded that a clandestine love had 
been carried on between his daughter and 
Eugenio, and Ventosus convinced that Ag- 
restis had never encouraged the pretensions 
of his rival. 

Agrestis immediately sent for Amelia, 
and sternly urged her with many questions, 
which she could only answer with blushes 
and tears: her silence and confusion con- 
vinced him that Ventosus was not mistaken; 
and therefore, desist'mg from inquiry, he 
severely reprehended her for the past, and 
enjoined her never to converse with Euge- 
nio again; to whom he also signified his 
displeasure, and requested that to prevent 
further uneasiness he would come no more 
to his house till Amelia should be married. 

Eugenio, though his love was almost 
hopeless before, was yet gready afflicted by 
this message; because he feared that Amelia 
had fallen under her father's displeasure, and 
that now he was become jealous of his au- 
thority he might be tempted to abuse it. — 
As to secure her peace was the principal ob- 
ject of his wish, he concealed what had hap- 
pened from his father, lest a auairel should 
be produced between him and Agrestis, in 
which Amelia's delicacy and tenderness 
would be yet more deeply wounded. When 
a visit was intended to Agrestis, he al%vays 
took csu^ to have some engagement at ano- 
ther place: Agrestis, however, as he had no 
conception of the principles upon which Eu- 
genio acted, did not doubt but that he had 
communicated the reason of his absence 
to his * father, and that his father was 
secretly offended; but as he expressed no 
resentment, he believed that his ambition 
had for onCe restrained the petulance of his 
pridcf that he dissembled to prevent an open 
rupture, and had still hopes of effecting the 
purpose which he had concerted widi his 
son, 

A suspicion of ill-will always produces it; 
but besides this cause of alienation, Agrestis 
had unjusdy imputed a conduct to his friend, 
which rendered him the object of his con- 
tempt and aversion; he, therefore, treated 
him with coldness and reserve, supposing 
that he well knew the cause, and neglected 
to return his visits without thinking it neces- 
sary to assign any reason. This conduct was 
at length remarked by Orgilio, who consid- 
ered it as the caprice of a character which he 
always despised; he therefore retorted the 
neglect witliout expostuUtion: and thus all 
intercourse between the families was at an 
end. 



Eugenio in the mean time was inflexible 
in his purpose; and Amelia, in her next 
interview with Ventosus, acquainted him 
that she would see him no more. Ventosus 
again appealed to her father: but the old 
gentieman was steady in his principleft not- 
withstanding his resentment; smd told him 
that he had exerted all the authority which 
God and nature had given him in his favour; 
and that however provoked, he would never 
prostitute his child by compelling her to 
marry a person who was not the object of 
her choice. 

Ventosus, who was extremely mortified 
at this disappointment, was very inquisitive 
about Eugenio, for whom he still supposed 
he had been rejected: he soon learned his 
situation and circumstances, and his long 
intimacy with Amelia; he reflected upon the 
confusion which both had expressed in the 
accidental interview at which he was present; 
and was willing to believe that his rival, 
however contenrptible, had been too success- 
ful to be supplanted with honour by a hus- 
band: this, however, if he did not believe, 
he was very diligent to propagate; and to 
remove the disgrace of a refusal, hinted that 
for this reason he had abrupdy discontinued 
his addresses, and congratulated himself 
upon his escape. 

It happened that about six .weeks ago, 
Ventosus; as he was Walking in the Mall, 
with a young ofiicer of chstinction, met 
Amelia m company of several ladies and 
a gentleman. He thought fit to bow to 
Amelia with a supercilious respect, which 
had gready the air of an insult: of tius com- 
pliment Amelia, though she looked him in 
the face, took no notice: Iw this calnr dis- 
dain he was at once disappoint^ and con- 
founded; he was stung by an eftirt of his 
own malignity; and his breast swelled with 
passion which he could not vent. lathis 
agitation of mind he hastily turned back, and 
determined, for whatevet* reason, to £oHow 
hen After he had advanced about fifiy 
paces, he saw Eugenio coming forward, 
who, the moment he perceived Amelia, turn- 
ed into another walk. This wto observed 
by Ventosus, whose contempt and indigna- 
tion had now anodier object upon which tiiey 
mi^t without violence to die laws of honour 
be gratified: he communicated his purpose 
to his companion, and hastily followed Eu- 
genio. When they had overtaken him^ they 
burst into a horse laugh, and pushed so rude- 
ly by him, that he could scarcely recover Vys 
step: they did not however go on; but stop- 
ping suddenly, turned about as if to apolo- 
gize for the accident, and affected great sur- 
prise at discovering to whom it had happen- 
ed. Ventosus bowed very low, and widi 
much contemptuous ceremony begged his 
pardon: telling him at the same time, that 
there was a lady in the next walk who would 
be very glad of his coinpany. To this insult 
Eugenio answered, *' That he was not wil- 
ling to suppose that an affrotit was intended, 
and that if the lady he meant was a woman 
of honour, she ought always to be mentioned 
with respect.** v entosus replied, ** l*bat 
whether the lady he meant was a woman of 
lionour, he womd not determine; but he be- 



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C03 



lieved she had been very kind ; and was 
pleased to see that her favours were not for- 
gotten, though they were no longer accept- 
ed." Eugenio was not now naasterof his tem- 
per, but turning suddenly upon Ventosus, 
struck him with such violence that he fell at 
his feet: he rose, however, in an instant, and 
laid his hand upon his sword, but was pre- 
vented from drawing it by his companion; 
and the crowd beginning to gather about 
them, they parted with mutual expressions of 
contempt and rage. 

In the morning the officer who had been 
in company with Ventosus at the quarrel, 
delivered a challenge to Eugenio, whicli he 
answered by the fblIo>\ring billet: — 

" Sir — Your behaviour last night has con- 
vinced me that you are a scoundrel; and your 
letter this morning that you are a fool. If I 
should accept your challenge, I should myself 
be both. I owe a duty to GOD and to my 
country, which I deem it infamous to violate; 
and I am Fntrusted with a life, which I think 
cannot without foUy he staked against yours. 
I believe you have ruined, but }ou cannot 
degrade me. You may possibly, while you 
sneer over this letter, secretly exult in your 
own safet}'; but remember, that to prevent 
assassination I have a sword, and to chastise 
insdeace a cane.'* 

With this letter, the captain retuhiedto ! 
Ventosus, who read it with all the extrava- j 
gancies of rage and disdain: the captain, 
however, endeavoured to sooth and encour- 
age him; he represented Eugenio as a pol- 
troon and a beggar, whom he ought no oth- 
erwise to punish than b}- removing him from 
the rank into which he had intruded; and 
this, he said, would be very easily' accom- 
plished* Ventosus at length acquiesced in 
the sentiments of his friend; and it was soon 
industriously reported, that Eugenio had 
struck a person of high rank, and refused 
him the satisfaction of a gendeman which he 
had condescended to ask. For not accepting 
a challenge, Eugenio could not be legally 
punished, because it was made his duty as a 
soldier by the articles of war; but it drew 
upon him the contempt of his superiour offi- 
cers, and made them very solicitous to find 
some pretence to dismiss him. The friends 
of Ventosus immediately intimated, that the 
act of violence to which Eugenio had been 
provoked, was committed within the verge 
of the court, and was, therefore, a sufficient 
cause to break him; as for diat oflfence he was 
liable to be punished with the loss of his 
hand, by a law which though disused was 
still in force. This expedient was eagerly 
adopted, and Eugenio was accordingly de- 
prived of his commission. 

(TV be eontimied.^ 



rO& THE BURAL VISITBR. 

Mr. Editor^ 

The motto of one of your writers in No. 
37, attracted my notiice, and occasioned a 
series of reflections, which I take the libert}' 
to send you. The author of the piece allu- 
ded to, certsunly possesses a good share o£ 



understanding, and apparently a feeling 
heart, — indeed can any deny, that 
•• Maa's p^ate^t enemy U man?*' 

Can we take a walk into the most frequented 
haunts of society, without meeung the hypo- 
critc? him who smiles, flatters, and lulls you 
into a cUmgerous security and dependence 
on his friendship — liis sole purpose being to 
render you subservient to his interest or gra- 
tification, at the expense of your own peace. 
Do we not see the irreligious husband, in 
contempt ot his marriage vows, forsake the 
htipiiui-t which God in his providential 
goodnt'ss has gi\'en himr When v;e behold 
liis helpless innocent asking for bread, ;md 
with its plaintive, undesigning inquiries after 
the ciiuse of its existence, agonizing the 
hcait, and harrowing up to indescribable 
tortures the feelings of tiie tender mother 
who bare it; when we see this delicate fe- 
male strtiggling in povert>% abandoned to the 
contumely and scoffings of a merciless world; 
when more cruel diaa all, more intolerable 
and writhing to tlie sensibilities of a suffer- 
ing soul, than even a wretched and prema- 
ture end of the morul existence, her fair 
fame is basely and ungenerously destrovedj 
traduced by hiiri who promised her protec- 
tion and love — -jusdy,. indeed, may we ex- 
claim with the sympathizing Poet, that 

" Man's inhumanity to man. 
Makes counties! millions mourn!" 

I have been particularly led, Mr. Editor, to 
apply the point of this motto to these reflec- 
tions, in consequence of the numerous un- 
happy marriages^ which persons of but limi- 
ted obsen'ation must notice are becoming 
sorrowfully frequent. The root or principal 
cause, I conceive, may justly be attributed to 
the prevalence of Deistical infidelity! What 
is to be expected less than chicancrj', deceit, 
and crimes of the darkest complexion, from 
Aim, who refuses the blessed offers and di- 
vine condescensions of a redeeming Saviour! 
His social affections are withered, and con- 
fined to his dear seif-^is correspondence 
with his fellow creatures, is excit^ by mo- 
tives which proceed wholly from this narrow 
and diabolical system : denying, as it were, 
even his God every means of improving and 
raising his undone and fallen condition, he 
derides and contemns that immediate re\'e- 
lation, which alone can raise and recruit his 
continually wasting and finite powers; and 
can we wonder that he holds himself bound 
by no law of moral obligation, and sports 
himself with the mberies of even his own 
offsprings Oh, my fair countrywomen! let 
me recommend to you the strictest investi- 
gation of the principles of him, to whom j'ou 
depute the command of your persons, your 
fame, your peace and comfort in this world; 
and the most important and dangerous influ- 
ences of that poison, the venom and tortures 
of which may never be annihilated to the 
lengthening and endless periods of eternity. 
Can ^ou calculate on the smallest chance for 
happmess^ when connected with him who 
can abvidon and spurn you and your help- 
less infants, on your slightest opposition to 
his mandates or opinions? — Avoid then, by 
all your hopes of hea>'en,and exemption from 



the miseries I would be excused from por- 
tray ing the Sycophant, the Unbelicvt^r. 

and the Infdt-U 

STAPI.KTON. 



The Old gentleman memionM l^- Althst) in cur last, 
as he is so accustomed to relare stories whilst indul- 
ging hiiuscif with a ^^ipirr, wc think it very jiroijer 
that he should be acquainted with the foliowing rule.s 
for '* punctuation in smoking;** and re(jucst Ai. 
FRED to communicate them to him. 

^^Grammatical Smoking. — As smoking u 
im innocent mdulgencc, and as it is customa- 
n' with people of all classes ta relate storits 
or the news of the day, with 9igarrs in their 
mouths; and as the generality of smokers 
make an awkward appearance, ^ in conse- 
quence of their ignorance of the theory^* 
punctuation in smoking, the following sys- 
tem is recommended:— 

A simple puff, serves for a comma^ 

Puif, puff, a semicolon; 

PuflF, puff, puff, puff, a colon: 

Six puffs, a period. 

A pause, with the ^igan- kept in the mouiii , 
represents a dash — longer or shorter in con- 
tinuance. 

With the imder lip raise the ?igarr almost 
against the nose, for an exclamation! And to 
express great emotion, even to the sheddin^^ 
of tears, only raise, as before, the ^igarr so 
as to touch the end of the nose. For an in- 
terrogation? it is only necessary to open the 
lips, and draw the ^igarr round to the comer 
of the mouth. 

Taking the ^igarr from the mouth and 
knocking the ashes from the end, is a conclu- 
sictti of a paragraphs 

and throwing it in the fire, is a final and st) 1- 
ish pause* 

Never begin a story with a half smoked 
figarr; for to light another while smoking, is 
not only a breach of politeness, but interferes 
with the above system of punctuation, which 
destroys all energy and harmony of expres- 
sion.*' 



The following lines are cxtracttd from an early poem 
by Montgomery^ and afford a favourable specJmen*of 
those talems which have raised him to a place 
among the most celebrated Poets of the age. 

U. S. Gazette. 

Majestick rising, like the vivid morn. 
On wings of winds magnificently borne, 
A strong imperial Eagle mounts on high, 
Cleaves the light clouds and sails along the sky- 
Broad to the -Sim his kindling breast he tiims,' 
Till all his plumage in the radiance bums. 
While from his eye, reanimated light 
Breaks like the day •spring on the brow of nighti 
Now frona the throne of noon his sigiu he brads. 
Where far beneath, the dusky world extends. 
His boundless vision beams from pole to pole. 
Where empires flourish and where oceans rolU 
The radiant palace of the mom he sees. 
And the green \'aies that nurse the evening breezes 
The realttts of ice, where tempests dwell forlorn. 
And somhem seas where vernal showers are bom. 
Sublimely thus, with transport tmconfin'd. 
On wings of immortality, the mind 
Through nature^s infinite dominions soars. 
Admires her works her mysteries explores. 
From wisdom's sun imbibes inspiring light. 
And glories in the grandeur of her flight; 
Who far removM, the grovelling world appears 
A mount of follies and a vale of tears. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



F0« THE AVSAL VISITER. 



03* DOGS. J3) 

The publick should be on their guard 
against Mad Dogs. Several have lately 
been seen in diat condition; some cattle were . 
bitten about a week past in die vicinity of 
this place; and a man attacked by the same 
dog. One of the bitten steers has gone mad 
within three days, and died under the most 
violent marks of the distemper. Parents 
should be particulariy careful of their child- 
ren; as in cities and villages a great number 
of dogs collect without owners, or persons 
tfha watch them; and they get far advanced 
in the disease before it is noticed. Many 
most melancholy and fatal instances of hy- 
drophobia, have happened recently in 
Charleston and Philadelphia. In this place 
a large pack of hounds are suffered to range 
about xvithout control: as these dogs are par- 
ticularly subject to the disease, they ought to 
be well watched. When will people come 
to the resolution of freeing themsdves from 
these useless, dangerous, and expensive ani- 
mals!! The dogs in populous places, beside 
the disturbance and injuries they commit, 
consume as much provision as would render 
many of the poor comfortable! 



THE NEW JERSET BIBLE SOCIETV. 
No. VIII. 

An Addref^fiom the Bible Soctett^ ofCharles- 
ton^ S. CU to the Publick. 

(Concluded from p. 191.} 

" From the indirect operation of this Soci- 
ety, the committee who now address the 
])ublkk, anticipate an abundant harvest of 
moral good. The prodigious increase of 
copies of the Sacred Volume, and the dimi- 
nution of the price of that book, consequent 
upon the existence of this and other JJible 
Societies, particularly on the Contemplated 
introduction by them of stereotype plates of 
the bible, are effects which the christian 
philanthropist must consider of the first im- 
]K)rtance. The institution of an inquiry into 
the wants of the poor, as it respects the Bible 
will, it is hoped, lead to an endless chain of 
consequences, beneficial to them and to soci- 
ety at large; consequences, the importance of 
which bafRes all calculation.* 

This society is a very suitable expression 
of thankfulness for the Bible, and dierefore 
promises to call down on us, and our coun- 
try, the choicest blessings of its Author. 

• Such for example, tre the amelioration of their 
condition, the education of the young> either by pri- 
vate cr publick beneficence, the furnishing of incen- 
tives to iiidiiBtr/, and the direction of it into the best 
dianoels. 



It is calculated to bring bade the attention 
of christiaBs wandering after the flowers of 
literature, the airy speculaticms of science^ 
the mysteries of art, uie subdeties of thee4o- 
gy, the vagaries of enthusiasm, and the fol- 
lies of superstition, to the BiUe. It calls 
upon them to abandion controversies fruidess 
of moral good; and to apply themselves to 
deeds which more unequivocally evidence 
their love to God, love to man, and anidety 
to arrive at thi^ heaven which they are pro- 
fessedly seeking. It is csdculated to increase 
among christians the influence of the true 
spirit of their religion, a spirit of love, free 
as air, warm as the sun. It promises, by 
promoting intercourse and cordialit}^ between 
christians of different denominations, to pro- 
duce a friendly eicpositicm of eadi other's 
views, and thereby to weaken the prejudices 
cherished among them* 

S<Mvie of the prejudices of the unbeliever, 
will naturally be removed by this Society. It 
will show him that christians attach not a 
nominal, but a real value to the sacred writ- 
ings. It will answer his sarcasm; " What 
do ye more than others?'* It will prove to 
him that christians can live in unit}', that 
their love to mankind, though it may not be 
clamorous, is real and what he especially 
afiects to disbelieve, that the different sects 
of Christianity are not diffierent religions, that 
they agree in acknowledging the same scrip- 
tures as the standard of faith and practice; 
in cherishing the same zeal for God, the 
same attachment to Christ, the same chari- 
ty to man, the same disposition to do unto 
others, as they would that others should do 
unto diem, and the same anxiety to save 
their souls, and promote their eternal inte- 
rests by gospel means — For ** a cup of cold 
water given in the name of a disciple shall 
not lose its reward,'' and " he that tumeth 
many to righteousness, shall shine- as the 
stars for ever and ever." 

Although the beneficial influence of our 
Bible Society ,should not be fully experienced 
in our times, posterity will enjoy the fruits 
of our labours* Our ** bread" may be ** cast 
upon the waters," but we doubt not it will be 
found after many days. 

Such are someot the reasons on which 
we found our conviction, that a very exten- 
sive prospect c^ usefulness presents itself to 
our Bible Society. 

The treasury of the Societ}*s benevolence 
is now open to the publick, and they are in- 
formed that a mite will be gratefully receiv- 
ed. Access to the privileges of the Society 
is offered to aU, widiout cxactmg from them 
in return any personal service, or indeed any 
thing but a very small contribution.* Who 
does not at a greater ejqjense, than would 
make him a member of this Society, annually 
indulge himself in some frivolous amuse- 
ment, in some unnecessary article of dress, 
or in some luxury? Yet what proportion can 

♦ Had the society csdcutated on the nntgnitude snd 
Interesting^ nature of tiieir grand object only, or on 
what pious and liberal minds Inflamed with seal for 
God and love to immortal souls, are disposed to do in a 
caose whete the divine glorjr and mun's salvation ai^ 
ao finch concerned, the contribution twotdd havt Seen 
fixod b/ a much hljgher standanL 



be instituted b^ween the aim; now soBcited, 
and the happiness which it may effect? 

Patriots of South CaioW The safety, 
the glwy> the happmess, the verv existence 
of a republican ^vemment depends on 
the virtue of its citizens. Experience norw 
fully attests, diat the virtue which has not a 
religious basis, is ideal, and that the divi- 
sion of the scriptures is among the best 
means of instilling into a community reli- 
gious principles:* Will you not then coim- 
tenance and support a Society, which pro- 
-mises ^ essentially to benefit the country of 
your affections, and of your birth or choice? 

Philanthropists! Do you venerate the name 
of Howard, and will yow reftise your aid to 
an attempt not less benevolent than his was, 
to cheer the haunts of poverty and wre^hed- 
ness; to convert the pests of society^ and die 
disturbers of domestick peace, into valuable 
citizens and affectionate relatives; aid to 
rescue those whom sin is about to thrust into 
the prison of eternal death? 

Christians! We know you think that he 
acted wisely, who, to attain the pearl of great 
price, sold aU that he had. We know diat 
you sympathize with him, who blessed with 
scriptural knowledge, went on his way re- 
joicmg. We know that you often ask your- 
selves—What would our condition be in this 
world, and in that which is to come, if the 
light of Revelation had not beamed on us? 
Wliat would we give for that Sacred Volume 
which has enlightened our understandings, 
guided our feet, and cheered our hearts, if 
we had it not? We know therefore, that j-ou 
will be active friends of our society. 

Daughters of Christianity? We cannot 
refrain from appealing to your well known 
beneficence. You who can feel for distres- 
ses, though you may not be in their immedi- 
ate presence and within their ciy, who can 
pity those insensates who have no pity for 
themselves, \vill not deny yowr hearts the 
gratification of co-operating with us in our 
pious and benevolent work. 

With the eye of hope we see you almoners 
of the divine bounty, standing before die 
throne of our common Father, and the 
judgment seat of our common Saviour. We 
hear many a ^scp^y spirit welcoming you 
there, and dedarmg oefore an assembled 
i universe, that it was you who dispensed the 
word of life, to him hungermg after righte- 
ousness; you who opened the fountam of 
living waters, and cried out to him athirst, 
" Come buy widiout money and without 
price;*' you who directed him a stranger, 
and afar off", to the christian ark; tp the balm 
of Gilead appointed for his wounds, and 
to the laver of regeneration opened for his^ 
lepros}% In a word, that it was your benefi- 
cence which incited him to lay up treasures in 
heaven, guided him to that Saviour, «t whose 
right hand he now sits, dive^ed of the rags 
of self-righteousness, clothed in die robe of 
s^vation, and adorned with the garland of 
immortality." 

• Wherever the Bil»Ie<htth been reqtected, and cait- 
vmy re»d, the very lowest of the pemde hare haA 
inSnitely iuster sentiments of Cod and their ter. 
tkan die fcifleftia other placet. 

Seckr. 



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FOft TUB 4VIIAL VZtlTEH. 

» The last period of life, like the evening sky, is 
often distinguished by a histre, not dazzling indeed, 
nor ardent like the splendour of noon, but no less 
pleasing to a contempUttive tnind. A fresh old age 
with chcerfnlness, ^ood sense, and a good conscience, 
though it cannot be called the loveliest, is however the 
most venerable of all terrestrial things*^ 

Your aid, O nrases! I entreat, 

But not of fame I dream; 
My subject for your care is meet, 
For Imham is my theme. 
Who when he told his age and name, 
Wam'd us to shim the phantom/ame. 

That happiness was in our reach, 

By our own hands bestowed^ 
By age experienced, he could teach, 
Anid. pointed out the road. 
Such happiness to him be given. 
And smooth the path, that leads to heaven. 

In tuneful numbers then he said, 

Mortal despair not, light will shine; 
Man for celestial bliss is made* 
Another spring will soon be thifie. 
Then flowers, your fragrance o'er him shed 
And consecrate his silver head. 

Then to dir^t o\ir taste aright, 

To train the mind in virtue*s road; 
Sesk not to mount ambition's hetghtt 
But found your fame on doing good. 
Ambitious ever let me be, 
O Imham still to copy thee! 

He taught us that the vale of sorrow 

To joy's bright mountain soon would lead; 
Nor clouds nor night obscure our morrow* 
We'd travel ©*et a flowery tnead. 
His path be ever sorew'd with flowers* 
And bliss o'er -rule his latest hours. 

In young Mai ia's virtuous form 
Our filial duties he portrayiMl; 
How treacherous frieiMis our joys deform. 
Their withering touch our pleasures fade. 
May faithless friends ne'er wound his heart; 
May filial love a bahn impart. 

Mustek's entrancing sweet control 

Me seem'd to feel each houn 
It touched his great, his feeling soul, 
^ With all its magick poiwer. 

Sweetly swell each choral strain, 
Touch d for him no string in vain. 

Why will the heart of man still grieve? 

No cause have we for sadness^ 
For God, all gracious will relieve. 
And fill our souls with gladness. 
Then Imham'slif&be sweetly spent* 
And peace be for his virtues sent. 

Now with humour keen and nice 
Miss Critick's faults he blames; 
Aad Leonora for advice 
Puts in her modest claims. 
May ImUam still his aid imuart. 
Improve -my mind and mend my heart. 
•«To gentler morals, such at play" 

'Mongst virtue's sons, our thoughts directs; 
Bids us o'er manners shed a ray 
Of joy, the grateful heart reflects. 
In Imham sure these vtrtues bloom* 
Uis soul they sooth, his face illume. 

Indulgent, kind, be lends his aid 

To those wlio their own faults peiteiveie 
Instils those charms which never fade. 
Charms which aU sufferings can lelieve. 
'Tia the advice by virtue given, 
Which lends our purest thoughts to heaven. 

Those p#wers vrhiAi God to man bestow'd 

Most not be tum'd to useless end; 
To journey in the perfect road 
Urania must her errours mend. 
Curious to know this happy sage, 
Not peevish with the cares of age. 

la study now amusement seek 

In sweets of social life; 
And now converse kith manners meek; , 
And leave all wordy strife. 
His hours have been in study past. 
If is conversation stores are vast. 



With how much labour, how much case 

Our youthful days employ. 
In habits good, ourselves prepare 
The surest source of joy. 
He by himself the truth has caught, 
To aid his words example brought. 

Alone with him by errour blind 

Can stq)erstition live? 
Mnsick, that's solemn, wUdi refined, 
Will all our cares relieve. 
To Imham every good I bode, 
And chant to cheer his righteous road. 

A coquette's fault he now displays, 

Hqw base the part Loaisa played; 
Then others' virtues seek to raise. 
But hide their faults beneath the shade. 
His virtues shine in every page, 
1'he precepts of a moral sage. 

The just respect to age that*8 due, 
In Flavius and Lysander shows; 
Respect to aged merit true. 
In every breast for Imham glows. 
Such virtues must our feelings raise, 
They claim of every tongue its praise. 

To friendship then our thoughts he draws, 

For that the human heart is framed; 
Explains to us its various laws. 
All selfish friendships he disclium*d. 
O may he never want a friend 
His aged footsteps toattend. 

Then Ovid's manly* tender stmins. 

In native warmth he dressed; . 

His force, Ifis eloquence retains, 

» In pleasing rhyme eicpressed. 

"May every charm that heals distress. 

Come with each hour" bis days to bless. 

Then to repel the rude assault 
Of one, *'a musick lover,*' 
O'er idle cavilliogs he'll vault, 
And deep research discover. 
Oft may the mush:k of the spheres 
Ddight and charm his sinking years. 

To praise what's right, but blame what's wrong, 

Is surely wisdom's part; 
For vice condemned with colours strong* 
May save a wavering heart. 
Call all his qualities to view. 
And "constant praise we find his due. 

He shows that woman, varying, changing* 

To equal man may hope; 
Though in a different province ranging, 
Her talents with his cope. 
Tis surely now the woman^s care, 
Worthy of Imham's praise t' appear. 

To gain applause from feUow men 

By virtuous means is right; 
Nor will we e'er that man contemn* 
Who keeps this aim in sight. 
By Imham sure tliis perfect rule 
Was practised oft in honour's school. 

Of idle tattling, O beware; 

A sacred trust ne'er break; 
Another's tbot^tt with cunning snare 
To find, O never seek. 
If secret* Imham's real name. 
Well known to all is Imham's fame. 

Some men in specious garb arrayed. 
Gain credit whkh is not their doe; 
Bat soon or late they are betrayed— 
Alcander'a fortune proves this true. 
Sage Imham needs not a disguise* 
All own that he is truly wise. 

But now I close this slight review* 

While trembling with an author's fears, 
7[*0 Imham now I bkl adieu* 
And wish him numy happy years. 
And when his spirit seeks his Lord* 
On earth his virtues we'll reciird. 

ZELIA. 
Burlington, March IS, 1811. 

t!rom the American Daily Advertiser* 

*rhe following arguments, extracted from 

the 4di volume of the Edinburffh Medical 

and Surgical Journal, are submitted to the 

serious consideration of those physicians who 



still continue to propagate the small pox by 
inoculation. 

*' This is not a subject on which half mea- 
sures are to be pursued. The Vaccine dis- 
ease or Cow-pox, differs so essentially from 
the Smalt-pox, in the production and com- 
munication of contagion, that no individual 
who is satisfied of the power of the Vaccine 
disease, in preventing any effects from sub- 
sequent exposure to the contagion of the 
' Small-pox, is justifiable in ijioculating the 
Small-pox.— Oi^r puUick duty in such a^ser- 
viee is beyond all dispufe, paramount to*per- 
sonal considerations, or to complaisance to 
individuals. It shoidd never be absent (torn 
the recollection of any practitioner, (it never 
can escape the recollection of the humane,) 
that the small pox is not only a loathsome, 
but frequently a fatal disease; and that in 
its mildest form it spreads around itself a 
pestilential contagion, dangerous to the lives 
of all that have not already had either it or 
the Vaccine disease, in the neighbourhood 
where it is introduced^by the avarice or com- 
plaisance of the inoculator, though his "pov- 
erty and not his will consents;" for every in- 
dividual inoculated with the small pox, may, 
and not unfrequeiHly does become the centre 
of a circle of disease* and deatli. 

** To disseminate this poison therefore, is 
voluntarily to perpetuate the ravages of pes^ 
tilence, and to consign our species to mise- 
ries which we have the power to avoid." 

NB. If any Physician still doubts the 
power of the vaccine disease, to preserve 
those who have been subjected to it, from the 
power of the contagion of the small pox, he 
is respectfully requested to inquire into 
some late occurrences, at the house of Wil- 
liam Mann, innkeeper, Qear Walnut-street 
wharf, where he will receive satisfactory 
proofs, that the vaccine disease, when prop- 
erly conducted, is an infallible preservative 
against die contagion of small pox. 

CIVIS. 

MR. JOHN WESLEY. 

In the course of his voyage to America, 
Mr. Wesley, hearing an unusual noise in 
the cabin of General Oglethorpe, (Govem- 
our of Georgia, with whom he sailed) step- 
ped in to inquire the cause of it; on which 
the General immediately addressed him:-«» 
** Mr. Wesley, you must excuse me-^I have 
met with a provocation too great to bear. 
You know the only wine I drink is Cyprus, 
and it agrees with me the best of any. . I 
therefore provided mj^self with several do- 
zens of it, and this villain, Greinaldi, (his 
foreign servant, who was present and almost 
dead with fear) has drank up the whole of 
iu But I will be revenged on him — I have 
ordered hin» to be tied hand and foot« and to 
be carried to the man of war which sails widi 
us. The rascal should have taken care how 
he used me so, for / never forgive!^^ ** Then 
I hope, sir, (said Mr. Wesler, looking .ery 
calmly at him) you never sin. The General 
was 4uite confounded at the reproof, and 
putting his hand into his pocket, drew out a 
bunch of keys, which he threw at Greinaldi, 

(saying, ** There, villain, take my keys, and 
behave1)etter for the future." 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



FOB TH» mraAJ. visitk*, 

MY BROTHER. 

Who oft with me at marbles played, 
And all my little playthings made, 
My kne and ball, though still unpaid? 
My brother. 

Who made a sled when winter came 
With little ropes to draw the same. 
And on its side carv'd out my name? 
My brother. 

Who after him my sled would tow, 
Sfwift o'er the ice \vhere'er I'd go, 
And point the glidi% wave below ? 
My brother. 

Who smird to chase my childish fear, 
And wip'd away the falling rear 
When the cold ice cracked loud and near? 
My brother. 

Solicitous, who tanght to mc 
The seeds of science, ABC; 
On pa|)er markM them out for me? 
My brother. 

Who to the school my book would bear. 
And lead me o'er tlie bridge with care. 
And lesson tiud for me, when there? 
My brother. 

Who help'd me make my water-mill. 
And built the dam across the rill. 
And view*d it turn from yonder hill? 
My brother. 

Who gathered apples from the tree, 
Chesnuts and walnuts too, for me; 
Who cheerful did all this? *twas thee 
My brother. 

And may 1 ever grateful be 
< For all thy kindness shown to me. 
And ne*er withdraw my love from thee. 
My brother. 

Thus through the vale of life below 
May we the sweets of friendship know 
And share each other^s jo)r and woe, 
My brother. 

And when this vital spirit fliest 
0[ may we, meeting in the skies, 
Uniied be by stronger ties, 

My brother. 

But O! I dreaml he's gone— he's dead, 
Mis vital spirit long has fled. 
To realms of bliss have angels led 
My brother. 

CHARLES. 



FOR TEE nURAL. VXflTBTl. 

Cadet de Vaux has proposed to substitute 
the follo%ving composition, in the place of 
wliite lead paint:— 

Take of skimmed milk 2 quarts, fresh 
slacked lime 6 ounces and a half, linseed or 
nut oil 4 ounces, common whiting 3 pounds; 
put the lime into a stone-ware vessel, and 
pour upon it a sufficient quantity of milk to 
make a mixture resembling thin cream, then 
add die oil a little at a time, carefully stirring 
it to make it mix thoroughly; the remainder 
of the milk is then to be aclded^ and last of 
all the whiting is to be crumbled, and spread 
opon the surface of the fluid in which it gra- 
dually sinks; at this period it must be well 
stin. d in, and the paint is fit for use. 

It is to be applied by a brush, in the usual 
manner, and in a few hours will become per- 
fectly dry: another coating may then be ad- 
ded, in tiie Mime manner as the former, and 
thus the work is completed. 



This paint is said to possess great solidit}', 
and a slight elasticity, which enables it to 
bear tubbing with a coarse w^ooUen cloth, 
without being in the least degree injurefl. It 
' has no smell. It is not blackened by any 
vapours, and docs not injure the health. 

For out door work, a much greater degree 
of solidity is given to the paint by increasing 
the proportion of lime to eight otmces and a 
half; of the oil to six ounces, and addmg two 
ounces of white Burgundy pitch — the pitch 
is to be melted by a gentle heat in the oil, 
and then added to tlie smoodi mixture of 
milk and lime. 

Decade Philosophiqnc, No. 29, years 9.— Am. Ed. 

This I have seen tried, and it answered 
agreeably to my expectation. H» M. Z. 



JNTELLlGEiXCE. 

DOMESTICK. 

The general election of Massachusetts took place on 
the 1st instant. Returns from 29 towns gave, for Mr. 
Gore, the federal candidate, 8960; for Gerry, 6836.— 
Mr. Gore (contrasting with last year's return from the 
same towns) has gained 911 votes* 

Nbw-Orxeans. February 20.— \Ve are informed 
that serious disturbances have been and still exist in 
the district of St. Helena — the populace refuse tq.obey 
the mandate issued by the new appointed judge. Mr. 
Samuel Baldwin, formerly a lieutenant in ^he United. 
States marine corps, who resides in that district, in 
supporting the execution of a writ, run a man through 
the bod) ; the populace immediately seized Mr. Bald- 
win, and our informant says tied him neck and heels, 
and said they would carry him to Baton Rouge, but we 
presume it will be to Mobile, as Mr. Baldwin u-as an 
active friend of the conventionalists. We are fearful 
that many cases of a similar nature will take place 
unless miKtary force stands ready to support the civil 
authority. 

There is now in operation at BownsviHe, Pennsyl- 
vania, a Steel Manufactory. The proprietors are 
Morris Trueman & Co. This steel is made of the 
best Juniaia iron, and is said by blacksmiths who have 
tried it, to be equal to any they have ever used of im- 
ported steel. The works are capable of making 70 
tons smnually. 

FOREJCV. 

Files of London papers to the llth ultimo, are re- 
ceived, by the Alert, in the extraordinary passage of 
20 days from LiverpooL 

The roost interesting articles furnished by them is, 
that Mr. Pinkncy had taken leave of the British re- 
gent preparatory to his immediate return to the Unit- 
ed States; that all negotiation on the subject in dispute 
between the two countries had been broken off; bat 
that a charge des affaires would be left to transact un^ 
important business. In parliament Mr. Percival had 
declared his readiness to accommodate all diiierences 
with the Uniied States, on the terms expressed in the 
regent's speech; and that Mr. Foster would carry to 
America propositions thereon, which be conceived 
ought not to be rejected. War, though expected by 
Sonne, was not generally apprehended. 

It is a lamentable fact, that one I9th part of the 
deaths within the London bills of mortality last year 
were occasioned by small pox. 

The particulars of the capture of the Isle of France 
has been announced, and the park and tower guns fir- 
ed on the important annunciation. The island was 
invested the 29th November, and its garrison (8000) 
fleet, 8cc, surrendered the 3d December. The garri- 
son to be sent to France, and liberated. The Englbh 
lost 70 killed, and 200 wounded 

The French consul at Gottenburgh, is said to have 
directed, that all letters from England, addmsed to 
his Swedish majesty's subjects, sho^d, previous to de- 
livery, be submitted to his inspection. This order was 
rejected; and immediately after a deputation of the 
merchants waited on the French consul, and informed 
him that so jealous was every Swedish subject of any 
infringement on their established liberties, that his 
(the consuPs) life , was not worth twenty four hoars 
purchase, should he persist in a right to search into 



their correspondence, by breaking tb^ seals of their 
letters. On this representation the intended plan was 
abandoned. 

A Russian general has been arrested and tbrowf* 
into ])rison by his government on the charge of having 
traitorously disclosed to Caulincourt, the French min- 
ister, the strength, position, and resources of the Rus- 
sian military forces. 

A letter from Monte Vidco,by the Jane, tayt, **Tb€ 
blockade continues on the same footing, some hop« 
appeared to be entertained lately that the junta of Bu. 
enos Ayres, would acknowledge the cortes, and that 
the communication would again be opened: whether 
they have or not is here unknown, ana in my opinion 
very immaterial, for were they to do so, even this ci- 
ty would not acknowledge them, and that I believe is 
the sine qua non of the Buenos Ayreans. From the 
news that leaks out here their arms are every where 
successful in the int^riour.** 

A late London papet states tiiat a smaU ijiand ct* 
the Danube, called Engel, near Pichment, has exhibi- 
ted the phenomenon of a floating island. In the me- 
mory of the oldest persons it had remained stationary 
until May last, when the rapidity and pressure of the 
stream are supposed to have detached ita bortom; its 
inclination is uniformly to the right bank of the nver, 
but its motion is not perceptible. Since May it has 
made a progress ^ about eight nailes; and, wliat is not 
the least singular, h^ from the eager and asabstcd 
curiosity of the Germans, made the fortunes of three 
persons who obtainetl a temporary proprietorship of It 

** According to the royal census of Spain, (says s 
late writer) taken in die year 1810, there were in that 
country 2,434,772 male inhabitants between the ages of 
15 and 6O3 of these 152,285 were regular andiecuiaT 
clergy, making about one for every fifteen mea in the 
country!" 

True Sailor Gencrostty.r^On the arrivaj of Lucien 
Bonaparte at Malta, he sent a draft of 200 rnineas to 
the shlp^s company as an acknowledgment of the trou- 
ble they had experienced tm his accounr; theydedioed 
the offer; when it was again presented with the sig- 
nature of Madame Lucien Bonaparte as a greater in- 
ducement, they returned it in a letter* It began **Dear 
Madam," and proceeded to explain that the motives 
whicb prevented theiracoeptance, did not proceed from 
any animosity, but from not considering themselves 
entitled to their bounty; that so far from having any 
persoiuil dislike either to him, or his wife, or duldren, 
they should always wish them happiness, and be glad 
to drink their health in any maimer they thought 
proper. 



DIED— at Frankfort, Ptmv on the oth instant, 
JAMES SIMPSON, an eminent mmifter in the 
Friends' Society He was about 68 years of age, ao^ 
died of a short illness. 

*' ,— The man whb consecrates his hours 

By vigorous effort, and an honest aim. 

At once he draws the sting of life and death; 

He walks with Nature, and her paths arc peace.** 

The life of this good, and consequently great maa, 
may with truth be sa^to have constituted one constant, 
unremitting effort, in endeavouring to impress his fel- 
low creatures with a deep sense of the snperioor im- 
portance of the treasuoes of eternity, to those of time 
He may justly be described in the words of the Poet, 
as he reaUy stood 

•» The messenger of truth— the legate of the skies— 
His office sacred, his credentials clear. 
By him the violated law spake out its terrours. 
And by him, in strains as sweet as angels sing. 
The gospel whispered peace," 



Prices current at BurUi\gtoiu 

Clover Seed S 10,00 

Wheat • ^,00 

Rye ^.. ^.....1^00 

Indian Cora • ..0,66 

Oats.... 0,40 

Flax 0,13 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



*< Homo €um ; humani nihil a me ali^num putoJ*'* — Man and his cares to me a man^ arc dear. 



VOL. L 



BURLINGTON, FOURTH MONTH (APRIL) 22d, 1811. 



No. 39. 



THE RECORDER. 



No. XXXVIIl. 



-Such 



Suits well the thoughtful or unthinking mind, 
The mind contemplathre, with some new theme 
Pregnant^ or indisposed alike to all. 

Cowpsa. 

Last evening, as I was seated in my large 
elbow chair near the fire, preparing a number 
of the Recorder for the following week, the 
boy from the post office put the ensuing 
letter into my hand, which so engrossed my 
attention that I could direct my thoughts to 
no other subject than that mentioned by its 
author: So tnat my readers will be obliged 
to wait till another time for my lucubrations, 
which, having cost me some trouble and time, 
I thought it would not be right to throw into 
the fire; but like the provident ant' put them 
into nxy pigeon hole for a future emergency. 

^^Dear Imhamj 

** You have so frequently expressed your 
readiness to minister to the wants and neces- 
sities of yoiir fellow men, and have in so 
many instances manifested the philanthropy 
of your nature; that it is with a perfect con- 
fidence of receiving that advice which your 
long experience and learning have enabled 
you to give, and the benevolence of youf 
heart will prompt you to dispense; that I 
submit the.foUowing case to your judgment. 
I have a nephew whose situation appears to 
me a most extraordinary one. I for my own 
part suspect th£^t he must be engaged in some 
treasonable project against the state, be in 
love— have turned author — or else be in a 
violent fit of sickness; but to determine in 
which of these predicaments the poor boy is, 
baffles all my ^kill. But perhaps an acquaint^ 
ance with his character and life, prior to 
these disagreeable symptoms, will be of ser- 
vice in assisting you to determine upon the 
course to be pursued; I will therefore in as 
few words as possible give you all the neces- 
sary information upon this subject. About 
nineteen years since, my brother Jonathan 
Stanley died in indigent circumstances; to 
which he had been reduced by a series of 
misfortunes in trade, that had ruined his 
fortune, and I believe was the principal cause 
of his death. He left a daughter who has 
lately married a very respectable young far- 
mer in this part of the country; and this son 
then about tour years of age. Being much 
attached to my brother for the repeated in- 
stances of kindness which he had bestowed 
upon me, I knew not how I could more effec- 
tually evince mv gratitude or cancel my 
obligations, than by taking his son under my 
immediate care, and giving him as good an 



education as my circumstances would allow: 
further intending, as I am a bachelor unin- 
cumbered with a family, to leave him my 
whole property at my death, should his con- 
duct merit it- I accordingly took him home, 
and having myself received what was former- 
ly called a good education, I considered my- 
self qualified to prepare my nephew for col- 
lege. After some years, during which James 
had acquired an intimate acquaintance with 
the English language, and had made consid- 
erable progress in the Latin and Greek,I sent 
him to college to complete his education. 
At this time he appeared inflamed ¥rith a 
desire of acquiring knowledge, and he de- 
voted his time with great assiduity to his 
prescribed studies. His talents seemed to 
me to be excellent, and with his industry, I 
had lilde doubt of seeing him maintain a 
high standing at the bar, and even cherished 
hopes of his one day attaining the first dis- 
tinctions of his country. But, alas! my hopes 
have vanished. He has become so totally 
different from what he was, that I no longer 
anticipate any gratification or pleasure from 
his future worth. I had perceived a gradual 
alteration in his manner since his return from 
college; but never paid particular attention 
to it till about six months since, when his 
appearance seemed to portend something of 
consequence: since which time I have been 
eagerly looking for the event of this revolu- 
tion; but I am tvow apprehensive that nothing 
beneficial will ensue. I hear him every night 
pace his room, which is immediately over 
mine, long after the rest of the family have 
retired to sleep. Sometimes I hear him sud- 
denly run from one end of the room to the 
other, draw a chair towards a table, and after 
a few minutes get up and again walk the 
room. In warm pleasant weather he walks 
out just before meal time, and after having 
in vain waited an hour for his return, I am 
obliged to sit down to ts^ble without him. 
Sometimes he walks till late in the evening 
near the bottom of the garden, which indeed 
is his favourite resort; and when he sees any 
one approaching, which he generally does 
not till they ac^cost him, he gives them some 
extravagant answer, and slips off to another 
place where he may enjoy solitude. In the 
morning when I come down stairs, and meet 
him at breakfast, he never bids me good 
morning as formerly; and when I speak to 
him, the incoherence of his answers, and 
the expression of his countenance, evidently 
show mat he is thinking of something else, 
or nothing at all; when I meet him in the 
entry he brushes by without appearing to 
observe me. He seldom speaks to me, ex- 
cept to astk whether the mail has come in, 
and appears disappointed when I answer in i 



the negative. The post master tells me th:it 
Jan>es frequently receives letters and news- 
papers; and from the sen'ants I leam, that 
he scarcely ever permits them to sweep his 
room; that his tables are covered with books, 
sometimes open, sometimes with the leaves 
turned down in various places; but what they 
are or of what subjects they treat, I am ignor 
rant, thinking it would be rather inquisitive 
to ask, and prying to look. I once thought 
him in I'we with a young lady in tlie neigh- 
bourhood, but when I hinted the subject to 
him, he appeared not to understand me, so 
that I determined if it were so to let him 
speak himself. Ihave once or twice inquired 
of him whether he reads your papers, and 
he says that he does with much pleasure, 
and he hopes profit. From tliis I have sup- 

Eosed, that were you just to give him a hint 
ow disagreeable his behaviour is to me, h^ 
might be induced to alter it. I have tried 
several ways to cure him, but always unsuc- 
cessfully; and really if this attempt does not 
succeed, I must e'en leave him to himself 
and let him recover his senses as he c^an. If 
you will confer this favour on me, I shall 
consider myself as under the greatest obhga- 
tions, and ever continue as I am at present, 
"Your friend, 

"PHILIP STANLEY." 
Many young n^en of my acquaintance 
have an assumed absence of mind, and eccen- 
tricity of conduct, which naturally do not be- 
long to them, under an idea that diey will 
thereby arauire a reputation for genius and 
talents. This is a great mistake; men of 
real abilities and sense need no such ally: 
they are with a few exceptions polite and 
affable in their manners and conversation; 
they assume no airs to themselves;, they 
are not studious to appear distinguished from 
others by their outward appearance; by any 
"fantastick tricks,'^ or affected peculiarities. 
Young men therefore err most egregiously 
in fancying that they manifest any superiority 
in understanding, by thus deviating from the 
common opinions and manners of their fel- 
low men. 

I have thrown out the foregoing ideas 
because they seemed to arise naturally from 
the letter of ]VIr.Stanley; not because I con- 
sidered the person complained of as one of 
these mistaken men; his not obtruding his 
extravagancies and singularities upon others 
proves tnat he is not. Tq him I^have some- 
thing else to say* He should remember the 
anxiety which his uncle and benefactor feels 
for him, the affection and love he bears him; 
and if any principle of gratitude or honour 
exists inlus bosom^ie will strive to overcome 
these manners which, let him also be assured, 
if not eradicated, will &iaUy not only alienat^^ 



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208- 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



from him his uncle's heart, but will disquaU- 
iV him from perfoitning the duties, and en- 
joying the Weesings of life, and expose him 
to the contempt and ridicule of the world.-*- 
Men arc most fond of what nearest resem- 
bles themselves, and on the contrary despise 
or hate those who affect superiority, or who 
refuse to join in those common decencies of 
life which constitute a primary source of our 
enjoyments and happiness. With whatever 
incikilgence our follies may be received by 
our friends, however willing they may be to 
palliate or extenuate our faults and imperfec- 
tions, the world are not so charitable, or 
rather they recompense with more exact jus- 
tice. To others, even the most independent, 
must owe the greater portion of their pleas- 
ures and enjoyments; a decent respect for 
their opinions and customs is therefore not 
only l)ecoming and praisewordiy, but a duty, 
the obligation of which is enforced by every 
principle of gratitude. This respect can only 
be paid by accommodating our conduct and 
ideas in some degree to theirs. I speak not 
now when any great and momentous ques- 
tion is in dispute, or where our principles are 
either immediately or indirectly involved, I 
have reference oidy to indifferent things.- — 
However insignificant I may think the opin- 
ion of the world, when put in competition 
with our moral or religious duties, yet I can 
conceive few more unerring charactcristicks 
of a depraved heart, or weak understanding, 
than an indifference to the censures or ap- 
plause of our fellow men. It is on these 
grounds that I acknowledge myself of that 
number, who regard politeness of manner, 
and a conformity to the sentiments of man- 
kind, or at least an abstinence from any wan- 
ton unnecessary opposition to them, as com- 
posing a most important branch of die duties 
of cadi individual. U. 



rOR THE RUEAL VISITER. 

THE REVIEW. 

No. n. 

After the full development which I liave 
idready made of die motives that have 
prompted me to enter upon this review, I 
trust diat no one will charge me with volun- 
tary severity or injustice. A strict and firm 
impartiality, a mind unbiassed and unpreju- 
diced, will I hope be allowed me, whatever 
other qualities I may be considered as pos- 
sessed of. Nor, I trust, will any one accuse 
me of presumptuously arrogating to myself 
any privileges or rights, or of assuming any 
impnJ'pcr elevation, by expressing my opin- 
ions Upon the various productions submitted 
to our judgments in the pages of the Visiter. 
Without offering any remarks upon the right 
which must necessarily be allowed, and ex- 
ercised by every individual, of animadvert- 
ing ^pon the different original productions, 
exposed to the publick eye in a circulating 
paper; I may be permitted to observe, that 
a man who imdertakes to point out the ex- 
cellencies and expose the detects of any pro- 
duction; cannot without a manifest inmnge- 
ment of xbt rules of equitv, be charged with 



vanity or undue self-esteem.. One with abi* 
lities in every particular much inferiour, with 
a taste much less cultivated and delicate, than 
the author of the work which is the subject 
of discussion, may without a solecism be pre- 
sumed adequate to the task of correcting his 
faults. To deny this fact, would be to deny 
what frequent, what daily experience, ren- 
ders indisputable. . These observations ajj- 
peared necessary preliminaries to any ani- 
madversions, upon two sets of papers which 
have for a long time occupied the most pro- 
minent stations in the Rural Visiter; and 
which have justly excited much attention: I 
allude to the Recorder and the Sojourner.— 
To examine with the necessary closeness of 
investigation, each individual paper that has 
appeared under these two heads, is now 
scarcely practicable; and wei-e the task of 
easy execution, the small advantages which 
could result from the examination, and the 
more important benefits which must arise 
from pursuing the course which I have cho- 
sen, would induce me to neglect it. A few 
general remarks, which is all that I can be- 
stow at present, will constitute the subject of 
the present number, and serve as a kind of 
commencement to this series of essays. With 
regard to them, it is far from my intention 
or desire to detract in the smallest degree 
from the merits of their authors, when I say 
they are capable of much amendment. The 
faults which displease in them are of such a 
character, as would scarcely excite attention 
in writers of less merit; and the very fact of 
calling them defects, is itself no slight testi- 
monial of my general approbation of them. 
The principal imperfection in them is too 
great carelessness, both in the general ar- 
rangement of the matter, and in the construc- 
tion of sinele sentences. It is not sufficient 
that every idea in a piece of composition will 
individually bear the test of criticism, and be 
impervious to the assaults of carping cavil- 
lers; this is merely a negative recommenda- 
tion; a merit which may be obtained, and 
more securely obtained by one who is abso- 
lutely deficient in genius and in industry, 
than by any other. They should be placed 
in that systematick order and regularity, so 
that the mind of the reader should be carried 
on in a natural and easy current to the point 
proposed. Each sentence should possess 
some connexion with the preceding one, and 
by a kind of invisible, and imperceptible 
chain, should draw on that which succeeds. 
This remark, so obviously correct, and upon 
which much stress has been laid by every 
rhetorician, whether among the ancients or 
modems, has not been sufficiently attended 
to by the authors of the papers now under 
consideration. Numerous instances to il- 
lustrate and justify this remark might with 
facility be selected; but I have at present 
neither dme nor inclination to select particu- 
lar instances, though such as have not obser- 
ved it, may by referring to the Rural Visiter 
easily discover them. To lay down any rules 
by which diis fault may be avoided or cor- 
rected, is I presume unnecessary; since no 
one who perceives the blemish, can be at any 
loss in what manner to remedy it. Most 
assuredly however, attention, and a frequent 



as well as close examination of our writings, 
after havnig laid them aside, until the chain 
of thought with which we wrote them has 
been completely broken, and our mind has 
resumed the coolness and feelings of an un- 
concerned reader, will prove of the greatest 
utility. Pope makes a very just renuork 
when he says, 

" E*en the great X>ry(len wanted or forgot 
The last and greatest art, the art to Uot.** 

This observation is worthy to be first on 
the tablets of every writer, more especially 
of those who have not yet acquired by age 
that union of facility and correctness, which 
constitutes the perfection of composition. 

The merits of these authors whose writ- 
ings are at present utider examination, I feel 
no disposition to deny; nor will I endeavour 
to detract from any of their excellencies. I 
shall not be accused of unjust partiality to- 
wards them, when I declare that I coincide 
in the opinion now entertained of them, by 
those who certainly were not prepossessed in 
their favour; who first read the papers with 
neither an expectation nor hope of being 

f>leased; but who nevertheless have acknow- 
edged that they have been agreeably deceiv- 
ed, and that the ideas which they entertained 
have been much surpassed. Some persons 
rather more particular in their" tastes, have 
expressed opinions of disapprobation, and 
have denied the authors of these papers, but 
particularly of the Recorder, the merit of ori- 
ginality. The charge of not being an origi- 
nal writer is so broad and indiscriminate, 
that no fixed ideas can be attached to it* Be- 
fore it is allowed to be a fault, an investiga- 
tion into the true and only correct meaning 
of the expression, as conveying an idea of 
fauliiness, is iibsolutely necessarj'. M. Boi- 
leau in his preface to his works, and Mr. 
Addison in one of the papers of the Specta- 
tor, have some ideas which are extrcnaely 
appropriate to the consideration of this sul>> 
ject. In the opinion of these two judicious 
criticks, that degree of originality which can 
be required in any author, is not that his 
writings should contain many ideas, that 
have never before existed in die minds gi 
others; but that the application and combina- 
tion of them, should not appear to be servile- 
ly copied from a preceding writer. To il- 
lustrate an old opinion by some new mode 
of expressing it; to ornament it with new em- 
bellishments; to present it in another and more 
forcible point of \Hew; to apply it to another 
subject to which it bears a correct applica- 
tion, is sufficient to constitute an or^;inai 
writer. Were not this opinion however, 
sufficiendy established by the decision of men 
so eminently qualified to direct our judg- 
ments on such a question; a slight examina- 
tion of the consequences of an opposite de- 
cision, would be sufficient to entide it to a 
favourable reception. Upon those subjects 
which were unknown altogether, or but 
slightly understood by the ancient world, 
something new and perfecdy original mig^ 
rationally be expected; but upon all subjects 
relating either indirectly or unmedis^ely to 
morals, politicks, belles<*lettreis or criticism, 
the unfortimate moderns would have but a 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



201> 



slender chance of displaying their understan- 
dixigs or their tastes. Books would be ran- 
sacked and thoroughly examined that he had 
never read; forced constructions put upon 
expressions of doubtful import; irrational 
and inconclusive deductions from them 
made; and all to establish that a writer whom 
we had ignorantly, and improperly praised 
and recommended, because he pleased and 
instructed us, was forsooth a plagiarist; and 
that it was contrary to the canons of criticism 
to bestow a mite of pfaise upon him. These 
requisitions would be too severe- to deserve 
the name of justice: but while I object to this 
unwarrantable and unreasonable stretch of 
them, I by no means wish to have them so 
relaxed as to allow an escape to cverj' one, 
who 

" Like gipsies, lest the stolen bnt he known^ 
Defacing first, then claiming for his own." 

The Recorder does not require one extreme, 
nor justice demand the other. The senti- 
ments com'eyed in these essays are not so 
familiar to common readers, nor common 
writers, that any general disapprobation can 
be expected for this fauh* The writer of 
them has never stooped to copy the style or 
the peculiarities of thought or expression of 
any other person. That he has adopted many 
ideas of preceding authors is undoubted; but 
is it necessary in order to constitute an ori- 
ginal writer, that he must never read any 
book but his own, or prove himself sp ridic- 
\xlous, absurd and foolish, as never to retain 
^le single idea, among the almost infinite 
number of excellent ones which must fre- 
quently occur? The chief benefit to be deriv- 
ed fix>m study would thus be entirely de- 
stroyed; and men would make but small pro- 
fress or advancement in any one branch of 
nowledge. If we consider the real and ra- 
tional signification of the expression, "an ori- 
ginal writer,'' it will be found that the Re- 
corder has undoubted pretensions to the cha- 
racter; and that those who repulse his claims 
must have read much, or observed much, and 
betray their own self conviction of it most 
strongly though in a covert naanner, when 
they express this opinion. 



FOR THB KURAL VISITER. 

J/r. Editor^ 

As the writer of Leander is generally 
known here, and some circumstances render 
the production of Stapleton in your last, a 
malicious, personal attack, I ask as a piece 
of justice, that the following may occupy a 
place in your next publication. 

The simple fact of the existence of a do- 
mestick disagreement, being the data on 
which the whole of the appendant epithets 
and consequences in diat lucubration are 
founded, a few remarks on that subject are 
all that I deem necessary to state, in the 
exculpatory style. This foundation being 
crumbled into dust, the gorgeous superstruc- 
ture which it supported sinks into oblivion; 
not howler into total silence* 

Tht man of tender feelings will prefer tl>e 
censure of the ignorant^ and the malicious, 
to the jcxposure of causes which produce 



^domestick unhappiness; and will suffer in 
; silence those secret griefa which the world 
knows not: And he alone whose feelings are 
akin to the brutal, will wantonly call into 
publick notice circumstances whose tendency 
is to produce an investigation of facts, to 
which neither an individual nor the commu- 
nity have the shadow of a title. After these 
general remarks, let it suffice to state, that 
whatever causes may have conduced to my 
present situation, those causes being either 
removed or obviated, chcir effect ceases: and 
as a reconciliation has already taken place, 
no further elucidation becomes necessary* 
To Stapleton however, I have still somethhig 
to sav. 

' * # # # # # ' 

The plan of our paper will not allow us to insert 
what follows; which we reserve for Stapleton $ individ- 
ual ear, should he comply wiih our request addressed 
to him in the notes to correspondents: if he does not, 
we shall conclude the foregoing censure is just. 

Some apology however is dne to I^candef: and as the 
Editor was fronn home — in whose a(>6ence his assistant 
arrangei the pieces for the paper, it properly comes 
from the latter. He assures Leander,that if he had had 
the slightest suspicion that the piece in question was 
*' a malicious personal attack," intended lo •* expose 
the causes** which had produced •« domestick unhap- 
piness;" nothing should have induced him to gWe it a 
place in the Rural Visiter: being decidedly of the sen- 
timent, that when we think an associate needs advice, 
we »)iould in a delicate thanner disclose it to binuetf 
tmlyf by such conduct, if his esteem be worth gaining, 
we shail certainly ensure it: but we are bound by hon- 
our, by generosity, by every manly principle, to avoid 
uttering in publick, one word, or giving one insinua- 
tion that fnay inflict a wound in the bi«ast of a fellow 
creature.— Do not misunderstand me, Stapleton; my 
giving you advice, does not argue that I follow it my- 
self ; I have been induced to do so, by the disagreeable 
situation in which you liavc involved me;, and shall al-, 
ways thank you to ^tum the compliment. 



>&« THB RUKAL VISITEB. 

THE SNOW.DROP. 

Midst lingVing snows, and genial rains; 

The snow-drop drew its breath; 
A gale of winter sweeps the plains, 

And chills the flowV to death. 

And should from time the blossom borrow, 

The empire of a day; 
The storm that rages on the morrow. 

Will blow tlie pearl away. 

Thus beauty blooms, in vernal years, 

And such \ti early doom; 
Death breathes around, or age appears, 

♦' And sweeps it to the tomb.** 

DELIA. 



TOa THE nURAL VISITER, 

AN EPIGRAM. 

On Lucy Ann's face* all, astonished may find, 
The rose's deep bloom, with the lilly combin'dt 
But to trace this fine union, requires no great pother. 
For rouge causes one^ and consumption the other. 

tvr. 



Svhstitute for Soap. — When the horse 
chesnut is ripe and drops from the tree, take 
off the brown husk, and pound the fruit in a 
large mortar; apply the farina thus obtained 
to the spots on the linen, and wash it. AU 
the spots will disappear, and more readily 
than oy means of soap. 



FOR THE RVaALVISlTEE. 

Mr. Editor, 

As almost the whole of your Poeis are /« icre 
perhaps it will be some alleviation of their pain to l.e 
informed that 1 am in the same predicamc"^* ^s il *- 
old adage says, "Misery loves company." Vou ti9\ 
therefore insert the foUowiog'-^or, if not worthy » c4u 
•'commit it to ihe ffames," rtie gibbet, or allow it whi* 
death you chooi>e. 

1 LOVE! 

licKc the man of generons mind, 
In all things, honestly incliu'd. 

Just, noble, brave, and free; 
Who scorns to do his neighbour wrong-- 
Of such I'd sing in endless song, 

And wake my mmstretse} . 

/ low the man of tender heart, 
Wholl freely bind the wounded part 

Of him who stands in need; 
Wholl sympathize, and-e*en bestow 
Nor ever let his neighbour know — 

And stop the pores that bleed. 

/ loiK to sit by yonder tree. 
That dips its boughs successively, 

And drinks the running brook; 
There see the fish in pleasure speed, 
And snap at every floating weed, 

Not dreaming of a hook. 

/ /ow good beef, that's tender, fat, 
J /ove my dog, I lave nay cat} 

//t^ at op'ning mom, 
To hutit the stag, o'er hill, o'er dale, 
And after caught, with friends regale, 

On Nature's flow'ry Uwn. 

//W with my two-barrcl'd gun, 
' Through meadows, underwood, to run. 
To start the rabbit, quaili 
My faithful Juno^ kind and true, 
To point-^to her 'tis justly due 
To say she does not fail. 

/ iove the attention of my cooks, 
/ /ove my library of booKS» 

/ low my tiUra room; 
God grant that these 1 mar enjoy. 
For Time itself will soon destroy. 

And drive me to the tomb. 

/ lo9e in cottteifii|>latiTe mood 
To listen to the crackling wood. 

And watch the twinkling blaze; 
Bound up in pleasing revery. 
Observe the snFioke before me 6ee, 

In thought's delosive maze. 

The produce of the curling vine. 
Blight, crimson nectar stHl be mine*- 

And always be it said. 
While /, with other Poets sing, 
" His /ove is great, for many a thing,— 

But doth not Igi^e a Maid!-'-^^^ 



Hall Lent! then hail! thy tortures ne'er 

Shall trouble me again! 
Hail Love! the love that I enjoy. 

That never causes pain! 

ALFRED. 

ANECDOTE. 

The horse of a German took fright, broke 
his bridle, and was about running away. — 
Some by-standers oflPered to catch him, but 
were prevented by the owner's request: 
" Don't stop him or he will ^fasterr* 

ELEGANT EXTRACT. 

Beason like the moon, a consolation in 
darkness, can guide us with its £iint rays 
through the dusky night. The morning 
dawn of truth shews the real world, when 
the light of the sun breaks through our 
twilight. . # 



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SOJOURNER. 
No. XII. 

How far can the mind of man become 
independent? Is there not a point of inde- 
pendence, beyohd which, if we could go 
beyond it, we should lessen our occasions of 
pleasure, without lessening in equal propor- 
tion, those of pain? Does not a capacity for 
pleasure imply a capacity for pain? Is it in 
the power of the Deity to create a being 
capable of pleasure, yet not susceptible of 
pain? Can the mind enjoy happiness inde- 
pendently of objects which exist not in itself, 
nor by itself? Can the human mind create? 
Take away all objects, natural, moral, and 
spiritual, and thus leave a naked human soul 
to herself; of what nature will her happiness 
be, and how will it be produced? How far 
ought such a being as man is, to expect to 
derive his comforts immediately from his 
Maker; and how far through the medium of 
created objects? 

Without a body as well as a soul, such a 
being as man cannot exist: without food and 
raiment, and many other conveniences, his 
body must perish* If this be a state of pro* 
bation, it is necessary, in order for the mind 
to be modelled, that it should remain a con- 
siderable time in the body; but it may be 
dislodged by a thousand casualties. If so 
many things are necessary to the mere exist* 
^nce of the body, how many more are requi- 
site to render that existence a desirable thing* 
Among these, as of primary importance, may 
be reckoned access to the company of our fel- 
low creatures. I allude not here to those 
manifest advantages which every one derives 
from the community, in point of assistance, 
convenience, niental improvement, &c. but to 
that secret support and comfort, arising from 
the consciousness of being surrounded with 
creatures like ourselves, who can p^ticipate 
in our joys and sorrows, and whom we be- 
lieve to be more or less interested in our 
concerns; for however some may appear to 
enjoy tliemselves in a state bordenng on 
total seclusion, I apprehend few can be found 
who would be willing to be placed in a situa- 
tion where it would be impossible for them, 
even if tliey chose, to have occasional access 
to the ""'humaTi face divine;" a state in which 
they shoiud stand completely insulated, form- 
ing as it were a woi'ld independent of the 
rest of the human mass — How far this ab- 
horrerxe of solitude is grounded in the na- 
ture and constitution of man, how far it is 
the result of habit, and cultivated weakness, 
I leave: that it exists, and that its effects on 
iuinian happiness and improvement are bene- 
f cial, are facts too obvious to need elucida- 
tion: but of this si^al blessing, as well as 
oi otl]^#rs of a minor class, we may be depriv- 
f d by what is called chance— What then! is 
man the football of Fortune; continually the 
slave of Fear? Yes: Ho who seeks for an 
independence not consistient with the laws of 
Order^ ^iA; the Haws of Heaven — he must 
needs be^he slave of fear. But are all those 
whick 'w^ tfidli contingencies^ the results of 
some uifcontrolled yfoituitous jumble' of 
c-^U!.**s? Awi^they not rather under the im- 
•c:ru;ol of the ''Great directing 



mmd of all?" that mind which not only made 
the world in the beginning, but which main- 
tains it, and the whole course of nature, "by 
an unremitted act;" and to whom it is as 
easy to interfere with, stop, or derange any 
particular part of it, without obstructing or 
mjuring the general operation, as it is to one 
acquainted with the mechanism 6f a mill, to 
arrest particular parts by npving them with- 
out the sphere of ordinary rotation? That 
such particular providences are common, I 
pretend not to say; perhaps however, they 
may occur more frequently than some are 
willing to admit. That they have occurred 
in numerous instances "is true, if history 
itself be true:" and if we believe that the 
Supreme Being is as much God of the natu- 
ral, as of the moral and spiritual worlds, I 
see no reason to be surprised that it should 
be so. He then, and he alone is truly inde- 
pendent (in the sense in which alone man 
ought to be so) who sees and feels his abso- 
lute dependence on the Great and Good 
Author of his being, and who wisely endea- 
vours to secure his favour and protection, 
by such a course of conduct as is well pleas- 
ing to him. Whilstthus engaged, he is under 
no necessity to perplex himself with respect 
to his future destiny, eidier in this world or 
the world to come. He has but one point to 
attend to— -his dut}-: and he may rest assured, 
that while this is his principal object, even 
as respects the things of time, he will be dulv 
provided with "food convenient for him;" 
and that whatever ^^mishaps may cross his 
way," or whatever difficulties he may have 
to encounter, they will at least not obstruct 
his real good. 

Seeing then, that to the mode of being in 
which it has pleased Providence to place us, 
certain collateral aids are necessary which 
we can no more command ttan dispense 
with; let us, while endeavouring to perform 
the part assigned us, confidently resign our- 
selves and our all to his gracious superin- 
tendence; cheerfully and thankfully enjoying 
those blessings which he has set withm our 
reach; without, on the one hand, becoming 
the voluntary slaves of factitious wants, or, 
on the other, vainly attempting to render 
ourselves superiour to those, which are the 
necessary concomitants of created being. 



. From the American Daily Advertiter, 
THE CONSOLATION. 
Affliction springs not fromUie dust> 
Nor sorrow from the ground; 
Yet stUl aiBictions bow the just. 
And sorrows compass round* 

Is there not some overruling powV, 
Which Ufts the chast*ning rod? 
Which sends a/&icCion*s heavy shawer^ 
*• Be still, and know 'tis Go5." 

Soon hell remove his dubious shroadf 
And doth'd in love, appear. 
Soon shall his smile* through yonder cloud. 
Thy drooping spirit cheer. 

From the same sky, whence comes the showV 
Which bows the rose's head» 
Descends the Sun's enlivenhig pow'r, 
Wiih kindly influence shed»— 

He smiles upon the drooping flow'r; 
Its bead, no longer bent- 
Rises refresh *d by the soft showVt 
Which was in mtrtv sent* 



THE NATURAL BRIDGE. 

The vestiges of Roman grandeur' and 
Athenian elegance, £»de into insignificance 
before the miraculous^ pile of nature, embo- 
somed between two hills in the deep solitudes 
of Virginia. As the vision of the bridge bursts 
on th^ eye, you are wrapt in admiraticm. 
The majesty and grace combined in die arch, 
through which the blue expanse of heaven is 
visible; the huge masses of rock lying in 
wild disorder in the stream, and producing 
a rippling which alone disturbs the solitude 
of tne place; the whole scene fiUs the mind 
with unspeakable amazement, and impresses 
it with a conviction that the hand which 
raised die structure was divine* 

When Fancy from the azure skies. 
On earth canie down« before unieens 

She bade the wondrous slrnctore rise« 
And haply chose this syKan scene. 

The Graces too, with spnghdy iie. 

Assisted in the work divine; 
The Arch they formed with nicest care* 

And made the murm'ring stream incUnc. 

Then Fancy, from the pile above, 

Would gaze with raptmre, bending o'er; 

And charmed, beheld the streamlet rove» 
While Echo mocked iu feeble rosr. 

And here, perhaps, the Indian stood, 
With uplift hamds, mttd ^es anuueedi 

As sudden, ffom the devious wood, 
He first upon the fabiick gazed! 

See TadmQr's domes and halls of state. 

In undistinguished ruin lie; 
See Rome's proud empire yield to fate. 

And claim the monmful pilgrim's i^jh; 

But while relentless Time impmrs 

The monuments of crumbbng art> 
This pile unfading beauty wears^ 

Eternal in its every part. 



Letters the source of solid Cotisolation* 

The sacred writers, the heathen pMloso- 
phers, all who have either thought or written 
with solidity, have agreed that man is bom 
to trouble, and that few and evil are his days* 
The moral poet Euripides has said, that to 
be a Man is a sufficient plea for being miser- 
able; and who indeed has not felt this truth? 

Yet it is at the same time true, that the 
kind hand of Providence has scattered flow- 
ers as well as thorns in the road of life; and 
the great skill required, is to select those that 
are perennial; those that do not bud, blow, 
and wither in a day, from those that shine 
with transient lustre, or conceal poisonous 
qualities under a vivid foliage. 

Among the many arguments for a classical 
and comprehensive education, there are few^ 
which ought to have a greater weiriit, than 
thait it enables those who enjoy the benefit of 
it, to derive the purest, the sweetest, the 
most elegant, and the least injurious plea* 
suresfrom themselves and from reflection, 
Tlie man of taste and learning creates, as it 
were, a little world of his own, in which he 
exercises his faculties; and he feels his most 
exalted satisfactions adsing from things, the 
existence of which is scarcely known to the 
vtilgar mind. 

TI^ parent in Ae middle ranks of Fife, 
who is a})le to place his son above depen- 
dence, corttribufes iftore to 'his real happi- 
ness, when he gives him a taste for the 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



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classicks, and for stucties which will exalt 
his nature, than when, by making him a 
trader without a gentleman's education, be 
affords him an opportunity of hereafter shi- 
ning in the mean magnificence of wealth, 
unaccompanied with elegance and liberality. 
To possess thousands with the narrow spirit 
of a mere stockjobber, can add but little 
real happiness. But to possess a just taste 
for a Virgil, and for the other fine writers 
whom the worid has long admired; to be 
capable of feeUng their beauties, with only 
the common coimbrts and conveniences of 
life, will confer an elegance and dignity of 
mind; and will cause a finer pleasure than 
was ever known to Crassus or a Clive. 

Where, indeed, shall we find objects capa- 
ble of attaching the mind in every stage of 
life, in every condition, in every time, in 
every place, but in the walks of literature ? 
These studies, sajrsCicero, in a passage which 
can never be too often repeated; "afford nour- 
iishment to our youth, delight om- old age, 
adorn prosperity, supply a refuge in adversi- 
ty, are a constant source of pleasure at home, 
are no impediment while ai)road, attend us 
in the niglit season, and accompany us in our 
travels and retirements.'' The great sutes- 
man spoke the dictates of his own experi- 
ence. To his hours of dejection and privacy, 
we owe many of hb finest poilosophical trea- 
tises, in the cemposition of which he awhile 
forgot his own and his country's calamity. 

Deep sorrow is known to seek solitude for 
indulgence. Compaxty may dissipate the ligh- 
ter cares, but it appears like mockery tO" real 
woe. Add to this, that to mix with company 
while under the influence of grief, unles it is 
the company of familiar friex»ds, is a vtcrfation 
of the rules of propriety, since it tends to 
throw a damp on that cheerfulness, to pro- 
mote which is one of the ends of society. 
But solitude invites to reading; and amid the 
great variety of books, some one may always 
be found in unison with our own temper. 
In the retirements of our library, no insolent 
intruder can upbraid us for disinclination or 
incapacity to taste <:onvivial enjoyment. 
There we may find balsam for every wound 
of the mind, and a lenient medicine for every 
disease. 

When th? prospects which present them- 
selves in the common road btlife are dark 
and dreary, the man of taste can step aside 
into the elysium of poesy, and tread the 
flowery paths, and view the gilded scenes 
which fancy raises with the magick of en- 
chantment. The ingenious biographer of the 
poet Gray has informed us, that the most 
approved productions of his friend, were 
brought forth soon after the dea^ of one 
whom the poet loved. Sorrow led him to 
seek for solace of the muse. That the muse 
smiled on her votary, every reader (rf taste 
has already acknowledged. Sacred history 
has acquamted us with the power of musick 
over the passions, and there is little doubt 
but the vers^ as well as the lyre of David, 
can sooth the troubled spirits to repose. 

It is difficult to be attached to ^e common 
objects of human pursuit, without feeling the 
sordid or the troublesome passions. But in 
the fmrsuits of learning, all s& liberal, noble^ 



generous. They require and promote that 
comprehensive mode of diinking, which 
overlooks the little and mean occupations of 
the vulgar mind. To the man of philoso- 
phical observation, the world appears as a 
theatre, in which the busy actors toil and 
weary themselves for his amusement. He 
sees the emptiness of many objects which 
are ardendy pursued; he is acquaiinted with 
the false glitter that surrounds him; he knows 
how short and unsubstantial are the good and 
evil that excite all the ardour of pursuit and 
abhorrence; and can therefore derive a de- 
gree of delight from reflection, of which they 
who are deeply, and even successfully inter- 
ested in them, can never participate. Not- 
withstanding the charms of opulence, yet 
have Socrates and Epictetus attracted more 
admirers, and probably enjoyed more tran- 
quillity of mind, than the richest publican of 
Athens and Rome. 

It is true that learning should be pursued 
as a qualification for the several professions 
of civil life; but excluding the motives of 
interest and ambition, -it is to be cultivated 
for its own sake, by those who understand 
and wish to enjoy, under every circumstance, 
the utmost attainable happiness. Next to 
religion, it is the best and sweetest source of 
comfort in those hours of dejection, which 
every mortal mujt sometimes experience. 
It constitutes one of the most solid pillars to 
support the tottering fabrick of human felici- 
ty, and commonly contributes as much to 
virtue as to happiness. — Knox*s Essays. 



HISTORY OF ALVIRA. 

A TALSOF TBUTB. 

CHAPTER IV. 

(Continued from p. 199.) 

Alvira's expectations and hopes were now 
raised much higher than they were, previous 
to the late interview between her and Theo- 
philus. She flattered herself with the pros- 
pect of obtaining, at length, the object of her 
wishes. Having never seen any thing like 
duplicity in him, she had no reason to sus- 
pect that he would, especially m the presence 
of her mother and sisters, have paid her such 
particular and distinguished attention, unless 
he entertained for her, an afiection more ten- 
der than is common to ordinaiy friendship. 
And she now thought she could easily ac- 
coimt for his seeming coolness, in\imes past; 
by supposing that he only designed thorough- 
ly to try her attachment to him, and that hav- 
ing made this trial, he would then be content 
and gladly receive her as his other self— or 
that being a little vexed at her former con- 
duct, be meant to punish her awhile for that, 
and that having done this, he was returning 
to his first love. 

How prone are we, when deceived, and 
the deception agrees with our expectations or 
desires, to catch at every trivial circumstance, 
that may nourish our errour! And how easi- 
ly do we furnish ourselves with arguments, 
to vanquish tiny difficulties which seem to be 
in the way! Such a disposition of mind as this 



when engaged in the cause of truth, is able 
to surmount difficulties, which by the diffi- 
dent and coward soul, would never be at- 
tempted; or if attempted, would soon be giv- 
en up in despair! 

Tbeophilus had now gone to the western 
country; and Alvira had no doubt that on 
his return he would immediattly pay her a 
visit; when she intended to^apologiz'e more 
fully for .her former treatment of him: fully 
convinced that he, having heard her in her 
own defence, would be completely reconciled 
to her, and love her as much as she did him. 
In the month of December he returned from 
his tour; but was so far from calling on her, 
that he went directly to the house ot Lucre- 
tia. Report, which flies on the wings of the 
winds, to which iEolus obligingly gives ii 
tenfold velocity when on love errands, soon 
told Alvira that Theophilus had returned, 
and had gone to the residence of Lucretia. 
The pangs of disappointed love are the 
pangs of extreme anguish; and like the sting 
of the scorpion, dry up tlie spirits: Such was 
the effect that disappomtment had on Alvira. 
She was retired and absent: her usual spright- 
liness forsook her: slie had no appetite for 
her food; nor taste for company and conver- 
sation. The vermilion, which had rivalled 
the rose, now fled'away from her cheeks; and 
the sparkling lustre of her eyes, which had 
equalled Ae diamond, was now seen no more. 
Her health declined; and a palpitation of the 
heart, with a trembling of the nerves, seemed 
to threaten a speedy separation of the soul 
and its delicate tenement. The physician 
was called in: the wise son of Esculapius 
soon discovered her disease, and gravely ad- 
vised that she should as much as possible, be 
kept from her room, and in the open^ir; that 
she should ride out on horseback every day; 
drink freely of the best wines; mix much 
with cheerful company ; and be "drawn 
frequently into sprighdy conversation; but 
that the conversation should by no means be 
allowed to turn on love or marriage. By a 
strict observance of these rules, she soon be- 
gan to recover her health. Tht convales- 
cence was at the first, almost imperceptible; 
but in a few weets she seemed comfortable: 
*,vas so far restored as to take rest in sleep, 
and relish her food with a tolerable appetite; 
vet she was ftot so conversable as she had 
been in times past. 

Her mother and sisters ventured now to 
mention to her the cause of all her woes; and 
exerted all their eloquence in persuadingpher 
to give up her passion for TTieophilus, and 
no more to think of him as h«r lover:i)ut she 
p^isted in bier declaration of retaininc^ for 
him the same tender afiection and regard she 
now did, until death should put an end to ftl 
her sorrows; until her scen^ of sufferings 
should be wound up by the cold hand of tlie 
angel of death: that no other man on earth, 
should ever possess her heart; and that if she 
was not allowed the enjbymenjt of his com- 
pany and convg-sation in this life, ihe would 
please herself with the hope of meeting him, 
and associating with him in that world, where 
all things have their proper place. " For,** 
continued Alvira, " I nave no doubt we were 
originally made for each other, and the pi> 



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pose& of our wise and gracipus Creator shall 
be accomplished, either on earth or in heav- 
en!" " My dear eJxiW," said the good moth- 
er^ **• you appear to have a strange inclination 
toward your own ruin! Theophilas does not 
regard you, and why shoidd you torment 
yourselt so much about him^ I fear the con- 
t^equence will be dreadfid to you!" And as 
(ilie uttered these words, she dr^w out her 
box and took a pinch of rappee: the maternal 
tear rolled down the furrows which time had 
made in her face; she wiped it oflf, groaned, 
and said no more! 

Lavina, the eldest sister, whose heart 
could melt into pity at the rehearsal of the 
tale of woe, said that it was possible Theo- 
philus would again return; for she was infor- 
med that Lucretia was neither so handsome 
nor so ivealthi/Sis her sister Alvira: but 'fif he 
should not return, I am sure sister, 1 would 
give myself no further coBcem about him; 
for there are many other young gentlemen as 
good, and perhaps better than Theophilus— 
and besides he has not acted towards you al- 
togedier as he should have done." 

Henrietta, whose mind was penetrating, 
whose judgment was clear, and whose nerves 
were hrm; said she thought, the notion of 
everlasting love, a love that woidd outlive all 
opposition, and even the death of its object; 
was a mere whim — the creature of imagina- 
tion, 6>rmed in the lovesick poet's brain, and 
from thence transplanted into novels, where 
it had done much mischief, and proved the 
ruin of many a worthy person. ** And, dear 
sister,'' continued she, ** I entreat you to 
summon up all your resolution, and act a part 
which shall be worthy and respectable; — 
which shall accord with the dignity of your 
character. Give your perplexing, torment- 
ing anxiety to the wind, and do not kill your- 
self for such a trifling affair as this." 

Sophia, who could never endure conti-a- 
dictidfetor opposition, raved at Theophilus 
for not answering her sister's letter, as he 
should have donej and for his seeming at^ 
tachment to her when he was bidding them 
all adieu, and was about to set out on his 
j^urn^ to the westward. She said, that not- 
withstanding his ttppartnt ftef^ she had al- 
yN9iys feared that his heart was not so good as» 
his tongue; mid that she had now no doubt 
but that he was a Pharisaical hypocrite! '^ And, 
sister Alvira," said she, *4f you do not hate 
him as you would a serpent, vou do not de- 
serve the name of WOMANr 

iy v.ira had listened to her mother and two 
eldest sisters, with a tranquil frame of mind; 
but wl^e So^iiii was going on in this strain, 
she hastily exclaimed, ^^ Sophia! you h#e 
neither judgment nor sens}i)ility; and woe to 
t^ man, who, with the band of wedlock, 
sjrall be bound in your chains." She then re- 
tired to her r6bm and locked the door after 



REMARK^ 

Reading nothing but novels, is like feed- 
ing a child upon cakes and sweetmeats; which 
vitiate the appetite, and make it unable to 
jl^gest more solid food. 



SELECTED FOR TBS RVRAI* VI8XTRB. 

ON SOCIETY. 

Hail social converse! source of purest pleastnret 
Sweet and reviving as the rosy morning, 
When first the day-star gilds the face of Nature, 
With his blest radiance. 

Hail sacred friendship! fraught with choicest blessin|;s, 
Where souls congenial taste thr perfect union, 
Bouifd by the cement of refined affection, 
Founded on Virtue. 

Truth, heavenly goddess, baffles our researches. 
While painful languor springs from ceaseless study- 
Welcome sweet converse, kind refreshing cordial* 
^ver delightful. 

Thy cheerful influence sooths the ruffled passions. 
While pale misfortune sinks the weary spirits,— 
So the clouds vanish, where the radiant sunbeams 
Shine in fkll splendour. 

If thus exalted thy enlivening pleasure. 
In the^ie dull regions, how sublimely glorious 
'Mid the bright mansions, where immortal friendship 
filooms in perfection! 



From an English paper. 
A singular, though curious and satisfac- 
tory hypothesis respecting the formation of 
clouds, has lately been published by an 
anonymous writer. He conceives them to 
be not merely one continued mass or body of 
vapour, or mixed gases,but interspersed with 
bubbles or bladders, inflated with oxjgen 
and hydrogen gases. It is known that clouds 
consist almost entirely of -those gases. To 
illustrate his opinion, he therefore took a 
bladder full of oxygen and hydrogen gases, 
^combined in the pro|)oriion of 86 parts of 
the former to 14- of the latter, and immersed 
the stop-cock in soap suds: he then inflated 
the bubble that hung to it by compressing 
the bladder; and on passing an el cc trick spark 
through it, it detonate^ with a loud report, 
and the two mixed gases were converted into 
water, equal in weight to the decomposed 
gases. From this experiment he adduces 
the argunjent, that though it frequently thun- 
ders without apparent rain, yet it is cmly 
when the thunder is at a distance; and that in- 
variably as a clap of thimder is heard, rain 
falls under the cloud, in proportion to the 
loudness of the report. 

A new Plant — called Epidendron has been 
imported into England, from the island of 
Java: it is unequalled for the beauty of its 
flowers and the strength of its prefume, and 
possesses the singular peculiarity of deriving 
no nourishment from the earth or water. — 
Suspended up on a wall, or from the ceiling 
of a room, it will vegetate freely and abund- 
andy for many year^. 

TO COnUESFONDENTS. 

We particularly request Stapiefon, to inform us how 
we shall address a letter to him so that he wiU receive 
it. 

The Dlicarded Lovef we have also sent adrift. 

B, wishes to be ••taken to the dear retreat"— he's 
gone there. 

As the publick appears to be particularly desirous of 
learning the fate ot Aiwra, we would suggest to the 
author of that Stitory the propriety of bringing it to a 
close; in preference to weaving into it another Tale, 
which has no connexion whatever with it— he will 
please to forward on the remainder of i6fr Dfe; after 
which we can commence the *' Histary ^ the witty 
pair of lovert." ' 

MottHaT'^Momeo-'^Md D. D.— Have come to h«nd* 



INTELLIGENCE. 

nOMESTICK. 



Q;J^ No Ntw9 stirring. 

Bridge ovtr the Deiavjom' — ^The legislature, of tLi* 
state having, at their bte sitting, passed a law author- 
izing the building of a bridge over the river DeUware^ 
between Black's Eddy, (above Bull's Island) an£ 
Wells* Falls, and appointed on the part of this state 
Isaac Mickle, of the county of Gloucester, Jacob Huf ty« 
of the county of Salem, and Caleb Newbold« of thi 
county of Burlington, comraissionert for the purpose 
of fixing upon a site for the said bridge— the Imsl^m 
tureof Pennsylvania have assented to» and ratified saia 
act, and have appointed on the part of that commoc- 
wealth, John Barclay, of the Northern Liberties, inth« 
county df Philadelphia, Amos Staymaker, of the coun« 
ty of Lancaster, and John Hulme, of the county oC 
Bucks, commissioners, to join the commissioners of 
this state, to fix upon the said site- 

A very useful machine for dragging or raising: greal 
weights, has been invented by Joseph Lefever, of 
Strasburg, Pennsylvania The wheel is kept in com- 
plete motion by a penduUm of 50 3qrs. wt. with whic^ 
has been dtagged 3,000 wt on the ground; and it h2« 
raised 1,000 wt. perpendicularly over a pullf , by wind- 
ing a rope round the shaft of the wheel; 300 -wt. hai 
been raised on the end of a 4 foot lever fixed in th* 
shaft, all which is kept in motion by the strength of t 
man's hamL These machines are Ukeiy to be usefU' 
in the makmg of canals* 

FOKBIOy. 

By captain Foster, firom Lisbon, we have interest- 
ing accounts from Portugal to the 14th March^— The^ 
state, that on the 5th March, Marshal Massena, witn 
his army, recommenced his retreat from the bank} 
of the Tagus, and reached the river Mondego, a dis- ' 
tancc of 60 miles, the 11th. That they were close! j 
followed by the allied army, under Lord Wellington, 
who, it was reported, was atCoimbra, on the Mon- 
dego, about 90 miles from Lisbon, on the 12th. Tfaiu 
numbers of French prisoners were daily arriving ia 
Lisbon, 1500 having been made immediately previous 
to the retreat of Massena; and that on the first davs 
of March veiy considerable' reenforcements, stated at 
10,000, had arrived in Li&bon, from Great Britain, and 
had marched to join the army and assist in driving 
the French invaders from Portugal, and establishing 
the independence of that kingdom. 

Buonaparte has issued several decrees -reladve to the 
Conscription. By one of them 80,000 conscripts of 
ISII are to be put in motion and distributed in the 113 
departments of old France, Belgium^ Predmont, Sec 
The other 40,000 are to form the reserve. Toscanf 
and Rome jire to furnish 3365 conscripts. 

Late London papers state that his majesty contin- 
ues slowly to gain strength: he walks almost dailjr ca 
Windsor terrace. One paper says* it is wished by the 
physicians that his majesty should undej;go the opera- 
tion of couching, because the appearance of a crack oa 
the film that obscures the vision, iustifies the idea that 
the precise moment for the expenm^t is arrived. 

MARRIED, 
Lately* at Dumfries (S£otland)the Lady Avcrtii- 
FARDLE to Davzd Cusunxe, Overdttmfifidling» is 
the county of Dumfries. 

EPITHALAMIUM CEl.TlCt7>f« 

OverdumfificUing's Heir, 

David Cuthfue, 'dept Esquire» 
, Aucbttrfardies Lady fairr 
Pasuonateiy did admhre.* 

OvcrdunifiJidiing*s Heir 

Sought fair AucbterfardU^s hind- 
Hymen smirdi and soon the pair 

Buckled in his holy band. 

Auld Dumfries! thy crest now rear. 
Sing, and^push about the nappy— ' 

May Overdwnjifidiing's Heir • 

Make fair AucbterfardU happy! 

Prices current at Burlington. 

Clover Seed , ^2 10,00 

Wheat.....**.— «•••••••*• .•..«2,00 

Rye i^ " 

Indian Corn............ ..0,66 

Oats.... ^0i4O 

Flsut....— ........0^3 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 






" /r(?mo sum ; humani nihil a me oliemm puto^^^ — Man and his cares to me a man, are dear. 



&^^' 



L 



BURLINGTON, FOURTH MONTH (APRIL) 29di, 1811. 



No. 40. 



' ccrrj[7 
tits, it. 



THE RECORDER. 
NO. XXXIX. 



Hoc ctiam tngenii magtii est, prsccipcre cogitatione 
usisjp futurar:— nee committere, ut aliquindo dicendum sit. 



nonpuutranu 



ClCE&«« 



ept'is^ 



It is an undoubted evidence^ of a good un- 
i Mdzjerstahding to possess foresight; and ever to 
'fvy-Kt in such a manner, that we may never have 
^^i^':>ccasion to say, I did not think. 
treri The hearts of young persons are seldom so 
tosjepraved, that they will intentionally com- 
ait an action which their conscience tells 
^^Jiem is immoral, or which their reason in- 
irch^orms thena, will be succeeded by eonsequen- 
laa^s of any alarming or criminal nature. To 
l^^tunvolontarily into wickedness, argues an 
^^^;5qual depravity of heart, and a reason desti- 
uitntQ of strength and correctness. Such un- 
• pt fortunately is the state of man, that those ac- 
^. tioDS and opinions which present themselves 
^^to him under the most fascinating and at- 
c. tractive garb; under the most innocent as- 
;^^ l)ect; are those whicli we should most sedu- 
f lously avoid, and most carefully guard against. 
^ All our propensities, all our passions, may 
be converted into engines of the most power- 
1 ful efficiency to warp our minds, and mislead 
'^our judgments. So insidious are the arts 
^^^made use of to subvert our principles, that 
..we welcome their first approaches, and per- 
ceive not the infatuation into which we have 
"fallen, until the enemy has acquired so great 
^; an ascendency, that all our efforts to escape 
from jt frequently prove unavailing* To re- 
sist these attacks, the best regulated moral 
^ sense, principles of the most delicate tender- 
_, ness to all improprieties, oppose but a feeble 
barrier; for these may be employed as auxil- 
iaries to effect more securely the downfall of 
the very principles, of which they were es- 
teemed the surest safe-guard; what would 
resist tlie open attacks of vice, cannot with- 
stand treacnery. The mighty city of Troy 
bafiled the arms of the Greeks for ten long 
tedious years, but was tumbled from her 
place through the arts of the despicable be- 
trayer. Wh^ the invincible Achilles could 
not perform by open force, was achieved by 
the insidious machinations of Sinon. The 
strongest banrier of virtue, the surest safe- 
guard of propriety, is a habit of coolly and 
deliberately considering the consequences of 
' our actions; andof being fully persuaded that 
we shall never have reason to repent of our 
deteroiination. lliis habit like all others 
will increase upon us; and while our judg- 
ments obtaifl a ^eater degree of accuracy 
and vigour from being exercised, we shall 
also be enabled to decide wiUi greater* promp- 
titude suid readiness, upon any emergency. 



The best ideas in the world become obnox- 
ious to objections, when a proper medium is 
not preserved in their use and application; 
and there are many instances where men, re- 
solving to adhere to the rule just laid down, 
have degenerated into a cold blooded pru- 
dence an^ cunning, founded on the basis of 
self-love; or into a circumspection and slow- 
ness in decision, which proved still more in- 
jurious and detrimental than the evil which 
they strove to avoid. 

If we examine with any degree t)f atten- 
tion and carefulness, the origin of those 
crimes which dishonour and afBict mankind; 
of those foibles and faults of a less glaring 
deformity, which constitute the foul alloy 
that mixes itself in the cup of human felicity, 
and poisons all our enjoyments; the result of 
the investigation will be a full conviction, 
that a vast majority of them have deduced 
their origin from thoughtlessness. That man 
must be hardened in iniquity, who can deli- 
berately commit a crime, if fully aware of the 
direful and extensive consequences of which 
it must be productive. He must be hardened 
in iniquity: but thb state of mind and con- 
science, this depravity of heart, can only be 
effected by fi*equent violations of the moral 
law; by habitual inattention to the remon- 
strances of conscience. The commencement 
of this series of actions, the first step in this 
now beaten road, must be, accounted for on 
other principles: It is the result of thought- 
lessness. Seduced by a prospect of immedi- 
ate and temporary advantage; by a delusive 
idea of his own firmness, and powers to turn 
back when he pleases; the youthful mind 
rests satisfied, without endeavouring or wish- 
ing to examine remote and probable conse- 
quences, which arrayed in no enticing garb 
rather deter than invite investigation. He 
makes the first step, and drawn on by an im- 
perceptible but irresistible chain, at length 
finds himself involved too deeply for extrica- 
tion. Despair takes place of repentance, and 
every step serves only to plunge him deeper 
in the gulph. Instances of this kind unfor- 
tunately ar^ not uncommon; and thoi^ht- 
lessness, whose victim is thus immolated, 
prevents our deducing the most awful and 
solemn lessons from die tremendous exam- 
ples. 

A candid and unimpasaioned examination 
of ourselves, of our own. lives and conduct, 
will impress these truths more forcibly upon 
our minds, and satisfy us that these colours 
have not been overcharged; but that in their 
application every individual may perceive^ 
that were the secret occurrences qf his life to 
be laid open, hejirould furnish an additional 
evidence of their truth. Etamine the causes 
of any habits, inconsistent with virtue or pn>- 



priety by which we may be governed, and it 
will appear that to .this source they may all 
be traced. This is the foimtain head of all 
those streams which sweep away the fortunes, 
the characters, the lives, and tne souls dl so 
many vicdms; and spread desolation and de- 
struction over the world. 

I am conscious that I am direcdy opposing 
a very prevalent opinion, when I assert, that 
to me it appears, that an inattention, or vol- 
untary ignorance or disregard of the conse- 
quences of our actions, is no justification of 
them; nor tends in any degree to lesson their 
crimimdity. The opposite opinion, so fraught 
with evil, demands a more serious and cir- 
cumstantial answer than woidd consist with 
a brief essay: but ^at it is fundamentally 
and radically erroneous, might be proved to 
the satisfaction of every reasonable person. 
One consideration b, I trust, sufficient to ex- 
cite those by whom it is adopted, to an ex^ 
amination of its correctness; and thajt is, that 
the greater part of the vcvil in the world, is 
fhe effect of it; and in all this vice there is 
no criminality, if the idea be defensible. 

From this view of the subject it may be 
deduced, Aat though reason raises man above 
the inferiour animals in creation, and exalts 
him to a high standing in the scale of being; 
though it creates for him many gratifications 
peculiar to his nature, and adds a peculiai: 
zest to others; yet it can never be end^yed 
in any manner better adapted to pronffle ge- 
neral or individual happmess, than in fore- 
seeing the consequences of our actions.*— 
Prudence and foresight are qualities, without 
which the most acute penetration, and splen- 
did abilities, prove of no essential service; 
but rather have a pernicious tendency* That 
virtue which is the only solid and pe^nanent 
foundation of happiness, depends, as (m a 
comer stone, upon diese estimable qualities^ 
for without diem it degenerates into capric^, 
whim, or the production of accident. 

D. 

Fable of the two Ears of€om. , 

Twb ears of full grown wheat that hap- 
pened to stand next each otherin a field, fell 
mto the following litde dialogue; Says die 
tallest to the other, .What maSce^ you hold 
down your head? if ypu could see as I do, 
you woul4 be well entertained, ^d look 
down upon half the world* Yes, said the otlv 
er, but my head is too full to be abk to enjoy 
your visions; but t^e bam floor will best set- ' 
tie our comparative merits, and our compare 
ative happiness. 

J£7ra/.— Knowleclge and modesty depres- 
ses, while an empty hes^d elevates the man v\ 
his owx^ opinio^ with reapect to his fellowv 



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fSE RURAL VISITER. 



FOR THB mV&AI< VISITER. 

THE WANDERER* 

Reipote from e'er a father's house, 

Remote fijpm friends-^bu^ not fcom foes; 

Remote from all I held most dear. 
Remote from all that Pleasure koows; 

Long have 1 wander*d, but ne'er found, 
A Friend^ in whom I could confide; 

Friends are but veadber-eociB I find- 
Drove up, drove down ; by Fortune's tide. 

5ay! who can tell, but those whoVe felt, 
The num'rous giiefs that gore the mind} 

The griefs of bini^ who daily meets 
Men forra'd by Nature, rude, unkind. 

" The friendship of the world's a name—" 
As transient as the blowing wind; 

Here, roaming o'er the barren plain. 
Not one to whisper peace, I find. 

The midnight gust, the pit'less storm. 
From these, ah! whither shall I fleej 

Where find a covert, or a shed— 
What none, alas! to pity me? 

But, oh! perhaps the lightning's flash 

Shall put an end to all my woe; 
My God, thou knowst my mind's prcptr'd— 

Then ease me by a mortal blow! 

Who knows but what the rapid stream 
That breaks its way from yonder hill; 

May drive me on its surface too. 
And make this murm'ring passion still I 

Once 1 had friends— once property. 

But by imprudence lost it all; 
Thei> friends, like leaves in Autumn's time^ 

Successively were seen to fall: 
One slander'd— t'other knew me not. 

Not one lone smile to cheer my wap 
Ingratitude! I heard thy voice. 

It bade me fly that very day. 

Yes! Spring returns— all nature smiles— 
To me a season damp and dreary; 

Joy mocks my hours of happiness. 
While now a wanderer, poor, and wcaryl 

•' Alone, un&iended, melancholy," 

I rove about from place to placq 
Perhaps, a victim of my folly. 

But not a victim of dis^a<x/ 

Oh! cruel man! from thee I'd fly. 
And 'seek the bloody savage shore; 

There 4well with beasts, in solitude. 
And think of happiness no more! 

But hold! again before my eyes 

A pleasant prospect breaks! 
Ah, hold! my bosom cease those sighs— 

My heart no longer aches ! 

Come Joy! resmne your wonted seat, 
Let every pulse with pleasure beat. 

No longer -will I roam; 
Vc Cottagers! begin your dance, 
'Tis not a phantom, not a trance. 

Again I find a home! 

Ves! let the pipe of gladness sound. 
Let musick float the hills around, 
, I'll raise my flute again; 
For four long years of trouble spent^ 
" My heart, with anguish sorely rent, 
Throws off the gnawing pain! 

ALFR£D. 



ON FRIENDSHIP. 

Thrice happy minds, that feel the power of Friendship! 

Oft do the Muses, on a beauteous eve. 

The sky serene, and drowsy Nature hush'd; 

Vouchsafe celestial sounds to friendly ears. 

And nise their kindred minds with such 

Warfii Fancy, an^ ethereal forms. 

As 'salpe the vulgar intellectual eye.— — 

Why need I launch into the praise of Friendship? 

Friendship! that best support of wretohed man! 

Which gives us, when our life is painful to' us, 

A sw^t e»i5tencc ift tapijicr's ^^in^. 



SBLKCTBO FROM THE AJ>VK2iTURBB, 

The Hero distinguished from the modem 
Man of Honour; exemplified in the history 
ofEugenio. 

(Continued from p. 203.) 

Nolo virum, facili reditnit qui sanguine famam: 
Hunc volo, Uudari qui sine morte potest 

Mart. 

Kot him I prize who poorly gains 
From death the palm which blood distains; 
But him who wins with nobler strife 
An unpoluted wreath from life. 

He had concealed his quarrel with Vento- 
sus from his father, who was then at the fa- 
mily-seat about twenty miles from London, 
because he was not willing to acquaint him 
with the cause: but the effect was such as 
could not be hidden; and it was now become 
necessary that he should anticipate the report 
of others. He, therefore, set out immedi- 
ately for the country; but his father about 
the same time arrived in London: some im- 
perfect account had been jsent him of the pro- 
ceedings against Eugenio; and though he 
concluded from his silence that he had been 
guilty of some indiscretion, yet he did not 
suspect an imputation of cowardice; and ho- 
ped by his interest to support him against 
Erivate resentment. When he found that he 
ad missed Eugenio in some of die avenues 
to town, he went immediately to the gende- 
man who had procured his commission, from 
whom he karned all the circumstances of 
the affair. The moment he heard that his 
son had refused a challenge, he was seized 
with a rage so violent, that it had the appear- 
ance of distraction; he uttered innumerable 
oaths and execrations in a voice that was 
scarce human, declared his son to be unwor- 
thy of Iiis name, and solemnly renounced 
him forever. 

Eugenio returned to London the same 
day, but it was late before he arrived: the 
servant that opened the door told him with 
tears in his eyes, that his father was gone to 
bed much disordered, and had commanded 
that he should no more be admitted into that 
house. He stood motionless a few moments; 
and then departing without reply, came di- 
recdy to me; his looks were wild, his coun- 
tenance pale, and his eyes swimming in tears: 
the moment he saw me, he threw himself 
into a chair; and putting a copy of his answer 
to Ventosus* challenge into my hand, anti- 
cipated my inquiries by relating all that had 
happened. 

After having administered such consola- 
tion as I could, I prevailed upon him with 
much difficulty to go to bed. I sate up the 
rest of the night, devising various arguments 
to convince Orgilio, that his son had added 
new dignity to his character. In the morn- 
ing I went to his house; and after much so- 
licitation was admitted to his chamber. I 
found him in bed, where he had lain awake 
all the night; and it was easy to see that his 
mind was in great agitatibn. I hoped that 
this tumult was produced by the struggles of 
paternal tenderness: but the moment I men- 
tioned his son, he fell into an agony of rage 
that rendered him speechless; and I came 
away, convinced that the eloquence of an an- 



gel upon the same subject would have been 
without effect. I did not, however, relate 
these discouraging circumstances to Euge- 
nio: I told him that it would be proper to 
wait a few days before any farther applicati<Bi 
was made; not only because his father's re- 
sentment would probably subside, but be- 
cause he was now indisposed. 

Eugenio, when he heard that hb &ther 
was ill, changed colour and burst into tears. 
He went every evening, and knocking soiidy 
at the servant's -window, inquired how he 
did; and when he found that liis fever was 
become dangerous, he entreated* n^eto go yet 
once more and intercede for him, that he 
might at least be permitted to see his father, 
if he might not hope to be forgiven. I went; 
but when Orgilio heard my name, he fell in- 
to a fresh transport of rage, which ended in 
a delirium. The effect which this incident 
produced upon Eugenio, who waited at the 
end of the street for my return, cannot be 
described: I prevailed upon him to go back 
to my house, where he sometimes hastily 
traversed the room, and sometimes sat fixed 
in a kind of stupid insensibility upon the 
floor. While he was in one of these fits, 9ews 
was brou^t that his father was dead, and 
had the morning after he was taken ill disin- 
herited him, declaring that by the infamy of 
his conduct he had broken his heart. 

Eugenio heard this account without any 
apparent surprise or emotion, but could not 
be persuaded to change his posture or receive 
any food; till his spirits being quite exhaust- 
ed, sleep relieved him a few hours from jhc 
agony of his mind. 

The night on which his father was buried, 
he WTsmped himself up in a horseman's coat 
that belonged to my servant, and followed 
the procession at a distance on foot. When 
the ceremony was over, and the. company de- 
parted, he threw himself on the grave; and 
hiding his face in the dust, wept over it in 
silence that was interrupted only by groans. 
I, who had followed him un(>crceived, did 
not think it prudent to intrude upon the so- 
lemnity of his sorrow, till the morning dawn- 
ed: he was surprised, and I thought some- 
what confounded to see me ; he suffered me 
however, to lead him away, but neither of us 
uttered a word. 

He told me the next day, that he would 
trouble me a few nights longer for a lodging, 
and in the mean time think of some means 
by which he might obtain a subsistence: he 
was, indeed, totally destitute, without money 
and without a profession; but he made no 
complaint, and obstinately refused all pecu- 
niary assistance. 

In less than a week afterwards, having 
converted his watch, his sword, a snuff-box^ 
and ring into money, he engaged as a com- 
mon sauor in a private undertaking to disco- 
ver the north-west passage to India. 

When he communicated this desperate 
enterprise, he appeared perfecUy coniposed; 
" My dear friend," said he, " it has been al- 
ways my point of honour to obey the com- 
mands of GOD, the prime authorof my being 
and the ultimate olqectof my hope, at what- 
ever risk; and I do not repent diat I have 
stes^dily adhered to this principle at the ex- 



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THE RUUAL VISITER. 



215 



pense of all that is valuable upon earth: I have 
suffered the loss of fortune, of love, and of 
fame; but I have preserved my integrity, and 
I know that I shall not lose my reward* To 
these I would , indeed, add the esteem , though 
not the love of Amelia. She will hear of me 
as degraded and disinherited, a coward, a va- 
gabond, and a fugitive; and her esteem, I 
think, I have sufficient reason to give up: 
grief will wound her deeper than contempt; 
it 18, theixjfore, best that she should despise 
me. Some' of those, by whom she is addres- 
sed, deserve her: and I ought not to with- 
hold a felicity which I cannot enjoy. I shall 
embark to-morrow; and your friendly em- 
brace is all the good that I expect to receive 
from tliis country, when I depart in search 
of others which are unknown." 

To this address I was not in a condition to 
reply; and perceiving that I was overwhelm- 
ed with grief, he left me, perhaps, lest his 
purpose should be shaken, and my weakness 
should prove contagious. 

On the morrow I attended him to the ship. 
He talked to me of indiflferent things; and 
when we parted wrung my hand, and turned 
from me abruptly without speaking. I has- 
tened into the boat which waited to bring me 
on shore, and would not again feel the pangs 
of yesterday for all the kingdoms of the 
world. 

Such is the friend I have lost! such is the 
man, whom the world has disgraced for re- 
fusing a challenge! But none who are touch- 
ed with pity at his misfortunes, wish that he 
had avoided them by another conduct; and 
not to pity Eugenio, is surely to be a mon- 
ster rather than a man. 

It may, perhaps, be questioned, whether I 
ought thus to have exhibited his story under 
feigned names; or have a right to attempt 
hat which he forbore. My love to him, is, 
ndeed my motive: but I think my conduct 
s just, when I consider, that though h is pos- 
ible that Amelia may, by the perusal of tliese 
japers, suffer the most tender, and therefore, 
he most exquisite distress, by the reestab- 
Ishment of her esteem for him who most 
leserves it; yet the world may derive new 
irtoe, from the dignity which the character 
f Eugenio reflects upon his conduct: his ex- 
mple is truly illustrious; and as it can scarce 
lil to excite emulation, it ought not to be 
Jncealed. 

I am, sir, 

Your humble servant, 

BENEVOLUS. 

* 

( To be continued*^ 

From the Connecticut Herald* 

As the season is arrived for the insects 
lich produce the canker worm to quit their 
ntry abode, and ascend the apple trees, it 
ly not be amiss to publish a few obser%'a- 
ns and experiments made on the subject. 
A neighbour of mine observed an article in 
i papers of Jast year,advising to enclose the 
ink of the trees with a narrow bag made 
th linen cloth filled with fine salt; but 
not having any cloth suitable for the pur- 
ic, used as a substitute what the farmers 



call swindling tow, which he twisted into a 
large string and long enough to go round the 
body of the tree, putting in salt as he twisted 
it up, so as to enclose the tree with salt, about 
two ^eet from the ground—This tree was 
loaded with fruit in the fall of the year, while 
the other trees in the orchard appeared as if a 
fire had passed through them; which experi- 
ment I think goes far to establish the fact, that 
the salt used in this way will preserve the 
trees from the ravages of the canker worm. 

The caterpillar or bag worm I am confi- 
dent may be prevented from injuring the 
fruit of the apple tree, by placing a turf in the 
crotch of the tree. I tried it in a number 
of trees in my orchard the last season, and 
there were none of the worms to be seen on 
them through the summer; but one tree 
which I neglected, I found when die worms 
were about half grown was like to be injured 
by that pernicious insect. I then destroyed 
as many of them as I conveniently could and 
applied the turf, and in a few days there 
was not one to be seen on the tiee. 

Another neighbour of mine informed me 
that he had a couple of plum trees in his 
garden standing some distance from each 
other; in the summer he found that one of 
them was covered with bag worms, and re- 
collecting the advertisement which recom- 
mended the use of the turf, he applied one to 
the infected tree and the consequence was, 
that they all left that tree and took to the 
otlien 

ON TIME. 

BY SELLECK OSBORV. 

Mov'd by a strange, mytterious powV, 
Who hastes along the rapid hour, 

I touch the deep ton'd string; 
E'en now I sec his wtther'd face. 
Beneath yon tower's mouldering base. 

Where massy vestments cling. 

Dark roU'd his cheerless eye around. 
Severe his grisly visage frown'd, 

No locks his head array'd; 
He grasp'd a hero's antique bust— * 

The marble cnimbled into dust. 

And sunk amidst the shade. 
Malignant triumph fill'd his eyes— 
••Se« hapless mortals, see,** he cries,- 

«* How vain your idle schemes; 
Beneath my grasp the fairest form 
Dissolves, and mingles with the worm; 

Thus vanish mortal dreams. 

"The works of God and man I spoil; 
The noblest proofs of human toil 

I treat as childish toys; 
I crush the noble and the brave; 
Beauty I mar; and in the grave 

I bury human jop.'* 

Hold ! ruthless phantom— Hold, I cry'd— 
If thou canst mock the dreams of pride. 

And meaner hopes devour; 
Virtue, beyond thy reach, shall bloom, 
When other charms sink to the tomb, 

She scorns thy envious power 

On frosty wings the demon fled. 
Howling, as o'er the walls he sped 

•• Another year has gone !" 
The ruin'd spire — The crumbling tower, 
Nodding, obey'd his awful power. 

As Time flew swiftly on. 

Since beauty, then to Time must bow, 
And age deform the fairest brow; 

Let brighter charms be yours; 
The female mind, embalm'd in truth, 
Shall bloom in everlasting youth, 

Wbil^ Tims himself endurts. 



VOB IHB RUBAL VISITER. 

THE BOSK 

Of all flowers mcthmks the rose is best. 
Why, gentle madam? 

It is an emblem of a maid: 
For when the west wind courts her gently, 
How modestly she blows, and paints the sun, 
With herchaste blushes! When the north comes netrher 

Rude and impatient, then like chastity 

She locks her beauties in her bud again, 

And leaves him to base briars. 

RofViUys ITohle Kiittmett. 

The follortving verses^ embracing- the above 
beautiful simile y exeniplifij the ductility of 
English poetry. 

I saw a rosebud, blooming play. 

In April's shadowy bow'rs; 
The genial power of early day, 
Wakening around the sleeping flow'rs, 
Upon its lips of ruby hung, 
And o'er hi blushing bosom flung. 

His sun-beams and his show'rft: 
In glowing charms, the youthful beauty reigns. 
The blooming prkle, and empress of the plains. 
Now, wildly sweeping through the bower. 

From northern skies a tempest flew; 
With hasty violence kiss'd the flower. 

And rudely o'er its bosom, blew: 
The trembling blossom flies its rude embrace. 
Sinks in surrounding shade, and veils its blushing face. 

But soon on wing^ of perfume borne, 
A gale of summer floated by, 
With balmy breath and many a sigh. 
The timid flowret sweetly woo'd, 
And o'er its wak*ning blushes strew'd, 
The kindling sofmess of the mom: 
Warm*d by the gale, the flow*r familiar grew; 
Unlocked its blushing sweets, and bloom'd anew. 

Thus fresh from Nature's hands, 

Young beauty, bashful, stands; 

And from the wild and rudely gay. 

In virgin terrour shrinks away, 
And blushes in disorder'd charms: 

Till soften'd, by the tale of truth, 

Breath'd from the lips of rosy youth, 

The trembling maid, midst smiles and tears, 

His tale of love enraptur'd hears; 
Stills on his gentle breast, her soft alarms, 
Smilfs the delightful— 2 « — and sinks into his arms. 

ROMEO. 



FOR THE BUBAL VISITER. 

On Thursday I received a very polite billet from Jif- 
LiA, cautioning me against being booked by certain 
of the fair sex, and enduring the tortures of love. We 
know many delight in tormenting their love-sick 
swains — they are not all Jut.ias: the admonition 
was very good, but of no use to vie: as I am already 
booked by your fair.SELF ! ^* My yoke x^easy, and my 
burtben light." 

Ah, Julia! lovely, charming, dear, 

I knoiii thee well— 1 love thee too; 
Why caution mc? you need not fear, 

lis vou I love— and only you! 

Did I, indeed, excite a thought? 

Yes! yes! my Julia— say I did; 
Why then, the pleasure cheaply bought*- 

Ah! love like this cannot be bid/ 

Come, come, my Julia, quick confess, 

And let me hope alone in thee; 
Each smile, shall make my trouble less, 

A heaven! indeed, 'twill be to me. 

Yes! think and write— my hand is free, 
My heart is not— 'tis ownM by vou; 

And yours — say — tell me, 'tis for me. 
For ME— «who ever yet prov'd true! 

ALFRED. 



The Spaniards do not often pay hypevbolical com* 
pliments; but one of their admired writers, speaking 
of a lady's black eyes, says, "they were in mourning 
for the murikrs she had committed." 



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THB N£W JERSET BIBLE SOCIETY. 

No. IX* 

Having given our readers a specimen of 
what is i^ing nearei* home, in this all im- 
portant busineas of disseminating the divine 
scriptures of truth to every part of our coun- 
trj'j we will again return to the experience 
that has been had in Europe of the happy 
effects of these labours of love, by the corres- 
pondence that has been carried on from dis- 
tant parts of the worlds 

Extract of a letter from a respectahle 
Clergy tnan in Alsace^ in Germany. 

** I have m^e a Ibt of such persons as I 
consider most deserving of such a present. 
Among the large number of individuals and 
families to wh6m a bible b a most welcome 
present, I first put down such characters as 
are the most active in promoting the Redeem- 
er's kingdom^ and in doing good to the bodies 
and souls of their fellow men* 

First. The first bible shall be given as a 
present to Sophia Bernard, who is one of the 
most excellent women I know, and indeed* 
an ornament to my parish. While unmarried, 
fJhe undertook, witii the consent of her pa- 
rents, Ae support and education of three 
helpless boys, whom tfieir wicked father 
had often trampled under his feet, and treat- 
ed in a manner too shocking to relate, when 
nearly starving with hunger, they dared to 
cry out for food. Soon afterwards, she prov- 
ed the happy means of saving the lives of 
four Roman catholick children; who, without 
her assistance, would have fallen a prey to 
want and famine. Thus^she had the manage- 
ment of seven children, to whom several 
more were added, belonging to members of 
three severed denominations: She now hired 
a house and servant girl^ and supported the 
whole of the family entirely witn her own 
work, and the little money she got fkrtn the 
industry of the children, whom she taught to 
spin cotton. At the same time, she proved 
the greatest blessing to the whole village 
where she lived. For it is impossible to be 
more industrious, frugal, clean, cheerful, and 
edil}'ing by her whole walk and conversa- 
tion; more ready for every good word and 
work; more mild and affectionate; more re- 
solute and firm in dangers, than she was. 
^atan so enraged some of her enemies, that 
they threatened to destroy her old tottering 
cottage; but God was graciously pleased to 
preserve her. A fine youth of a noble mind 
made her an offer of his hand. She at first re- 
flised, but he declared he wo\ild wait for her, 
even for ten years. When she replied, that 
she could never ccmsent to part from her 
poor orphans; he nobly answered, "whoever 
takes the mother, takes the children too. So 
he did; and all these children were brought up 
by them in the most careful and excellent 
manner. Lately they have taken in some 
other orphans, whom they are training up in 
the fear and love of God. Though these 
excellent people pass rather for rich, yet their 
income is so limited and their benevolence 
so extensive, that sometimes they hardly 
know how to furnish a new suit of necessary 
clothes. To them I intend to give a bible, 



considering that their own is very often lent 
out in different Roman catholick villages. 

Second. A second bible, I intend to give 
to an excellent woman, Maria Schepler, who 
lives at the opposite end of my extensive 
parish, where the cold is more severe, and 
the ground unfruitful, so that near all the 
householders are poor people, who must lend 
their clothes to each oAer, when thev intend 
to go to the Lord*5 Supper. This poor 
woman is also a very distinguished character, 
in whose praise I could say much, were I 
to enter into particulars: Though distressed 
and afflicted in her own person and circum- 
stances, yet she is a mother, benefactress and 
teacher to the whole village, where she lives, 
and to some neighbouring districts too. She 
takes the most lively interest in all that relates 
to the Redeemer's kingdom upon earth, and 
often groans under a sense of all the inroads 
made by the powers of darkness. ^ She also 
has brought up several orphans without re- 
ceiving tfie smallest reward. She keeps a 
free school for females, and makes it a prac- 
tice to lend her bible to such as are entirely 
deprived of it. 

Third. A third bible present, I intend to 
make to an excellent widow woman, Catha- 
rine Shuddegger, who is like t e former, a 
mother to orphans and keeps a free school; 
as also does another young woman, who in- 
structs little children in a neighbouring vil- 
lage in such knowledge as may render them 
useful membera of human and christian 
society. 

I might easily enumerate many more cha- 
racters of a similar description, whose eyes 
will overflow with grateful tears, if they are 
favoured with a present of a bible." 

Extract of a Letter from the Rev. Mr. 

Dated Nurenherg^ in Germany. 
**We beg leave to express our sincere 
esteem to the Committee of the British 
and Foreign Bible Society, and doubt not 
that it will afford them pleasure to hear, that 
the establishment of our Germ^y Bible 
Society seems more and more to excite emu- 
lation in the catholick countries of Germany. 
In three different places, at the same time, 
some worthy members of the catholick per- 
suasion, have associated thenaselves for the 
purpose of procurmg bibles. The Rev. Mr. 
— — , who lately addressed the British and 
Foreign Bible Society, has since been joined 
by five colleagues; and even iht Pater Regens 
at Ratisbon, is collecting contributions for a 
New Testament, with standing type.'' 

Extract of a Letter from Monte Video to a 
member of the Society^ dated Sept. 3, 1807. 

"I have lately enjoyed very great facilities 
for the distribution of the New Testament. 
I have widiin the la^t month distributed up- 
wards of 200, all which are spread about, 
and many of them leagues up the country. 
I could easily have disposed of many more 
had I possessed them, as almost every custo- 
mer, for the last diree weeks, made a pomt 
of asking for a "Biblita." Even priests have 
come for them; and gone so far as to recom- 
mend them to Spaniards as good and fair 
copies, in my hearing. Que of these has 



paid me several visits; one of. which, on » 
sabbath morning, occupibd a considerable 
portion of time, m discoursing on this work, 
and religious subjects in general— —^-He sta- 
ted that tliis was the only copy of the scrip- 
tures in the Spanish tongue, extant in Monte 
Video, or the surrounding* continent: and 
that by giving it an examination by the Latin, 
he found it a pure^nd correct copy of the 
ancient text, without any reference to catho- 
lick questions; this evidently surprised him 
aot a little.'* 

CTo be^continued.') 



T0% THE RURAL VXSITEB. 

«« Old age explodes all but morality; 
Austerity offends aspiring youth — 
But he who blends instruction with delight 
Profit with pleivsure, carries all the votes?*' 

During the leisure that stem winter gives 
an old farmer, I presumed to attempt an es- 
say or two in the Rural Visiter; but as the 
busy season again returned, ray attention 
would have been entirely taken up with other 
concerns, had not Patty (rather saucily per- 
haps) stimulated me to say something in my 
own defence. If Patty is really a female, she 
must be in jest, when she advises us to desist 
from giving any further admonitions, but 
leave our young readers entirely ** as they 
are:'* but if the production alluded to^is from 
an incorrigible youngster of the masculine 
gender who will obstinately continue to ^*des- 
pise all instruction," it is probable he is seri- 
ous. ' 

I acknowledge it is very proper and need- 
ful for us to continue our endeavours to 
" amend ourselves;'' to improve, to add to 
our " virtue*, knowledge," &c« ; but if all 
the cautions and admonitions of the aged and 
experienced, are to be replied to by young- 
sters in this style-— "^ amend yourselves and 
leave us as we are," instead of any prospect 
of general improvement, it may be naturally 
and reasonably inferred, that there will be a 
greater degeneracy in the rising age, than 
hath been known heretofore. ** I shall not 
fail while I remain with you to continue to 
stir up the pure mind," &c. saith one of old 
time. Even the prophets and apostles were 
subject to the same infirmities and passions 
that we are: daily watchfulness, constant en- 
deavours after more improvement, and still 
higher attainments, were necessary «ven for 
them; but wre we, or were the people of their 
' times in consequence of this, to disregard all 
they had to say, and continualljf to turn upon 
them with *' amend yourselves and leave us 
as we are?" However, my dear Patty, I hope 
to pay aU due attention to thy advice; I liope 
stiU to amend myself-^still strive to improve, 
and to store up in the cabinet of my mind 
every useful hint, every benefictd maxim 
that I can collect, for my own benefit; and 
by thy leave, my child, perhaps sometimes 
for the benefit of others. I have not often 
presumed to publish the eilusions of my own 
brain; but humbly to transcribe the* senti- 
ments of the wisest and best of former ages; 
and to spread more widely the excellent pre- 
cepts they believed it their d^ty to pufal)^ 
for ^e benefit of posterit}% 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



2ir 



My dear, if thou wilt only peruse the essay 
Bicned A Spectator^ in the paper which con- 
tains thy own production, thou mayst meet 
with instruction and improvement. I ac- 
knowledge it afforded me instruction, and to 
this author as to one abundantly better quali- 
fied than myself, I propose to resign my of- 
fice of M oniton but after all that has been 
said, as Was before observed, if Patty is really 
a female, she was only jesting with us: and, 
n^ dear friend, if thou hast any more advice, 
or instruction, or caution, either pleasantly 
or gravely, as thou hast a talent of doing it 
agreeably J it will be very cordially and grate- 
fiily received, by , 

Thy assured well wisher 
and friend, 

MONITOR. 

roa TBB muEiiL visiter. 

To obtain happiness, we must endeavour 
to deserve it» The most sure and permanent 
satisfaction we can enjoy, is that which aris- 
es from cherishing the benevolent and amia- 
ble dispositions of the mind; a tender sensi- 
bility lor the misfortunes of others, and an 
earnest desire to relieve them. What world- 
ly attainment can open to the heart, tl ^t ex- 
alted source of bliss, which results from the 
consciousness of virtue! The propitious gale 
of fortune may waft us to the summit of our 
wishes, and fix us in the abodes of elegance 
and luxur)'; — all the felicity which wealth 
and splendour can impart, we may enjoy; 
but how frail, how mutable is the basis on 
which it is fixed! how unable to withstand 
the rude blasts of adversity, or the cruel 
strokes of disappointment. Should the shock 
of adverse fate, cast us from the pinnacle of 
enjoyment to the chill re^ons of penury and 
distress, we shall then find, that the inward 
peace of virtue, which alone could give a re- 
finement to prosperity; can reconcile us to 
the sad reverse of fortune. But some seek 
not happiness in the glittering attractions of 
pageantry and show. The mild delights of 
domesticklife, the soft engagements of Iriend- 
ship and of love, alone can interest their 
hearts. Ah! these sweet ties of nature and 
affection, while they open to the soul the 
highest source of bliss; prepare that sensibi- 
lity which only can enjoy them, to feel the 
most exquisite wounds misfortune can in- 
flict. How liable is the peace of domestick 
retirement, to be broken in upon by the rade 
workings of boisterous spirits!— How often 
is the harmony of union disturbed by the 
clash of interests* while the happiness of ^ 
is destroyed in the contention! — In the ten- 
der engagements of friendship and of love, 
we still find that affliction is ihseparable from 
humanity. Our hearts, reposed in the bo- 
som of tfie beloved object, knows no joy, no 
bliss, but what is centered in, or connected 
with our mutual affection. We live not to 
the world, we regard no object in it, but that 
dear being who possesses all our regards. — 
Transported by Uie enchanting delusion, we 
forget that Ve are embracing the propert}' of 
Death; till the cruel tyrant asserts his claim, 
and tears from the sinking soul its only prop 
Df haj^iness. Will the remembrance of for- 



;*:« } joys then console the unhappy mourner? 
Will it^ not rather aggravate our sorrow? — 
Where is the fortitude which could overcome 
such miserj'; which could rise superiour to 
such a conflicti unless supported by superiour 
considerations? In this sad hour, that virtue 
which teaches us to look to a supreme being 
for consolation and assistance, can only pre- 
vent the anguish of despair. Instead of 
struggling agaihst an afflicting dispensation, 
it teaches us to resign ourselves to the will 
of him who ordained it. It points to our 
view the many duties we have yet to fulfil, as 
links in the great chain of society, and which 
a blind indulgence of grief would prevent 
our attending to. There is no being so in- 
significant or so miserable, but what has it in 
his power, in some degree, to contribute to 
the happiness of others. What a source of 
comfort may the afflicted find in this amiable 
benevolence of heart! Oh! thou great source 
of virtue, enable me still in all the vicissitudes 
of life, to listen to, and obey these sacred dic- 
tates! I have felt the pressure of misfortune: 
I have sunk under the load of sorrow: It may 
be thy will that tliis bleeding heart shall again 
be pierced ptiore deeply; but do thou enable 
me to raise my drooping soul from the con- 
templation of my own misery, to dwell with 
delight on the happiness of others. From 
the blessings thou bestowest on them, I may 
then draw consolation; and from the disposi- 
tion thou hast given me to contribute to their 
felicit)', find a solace in &e midst of affliction. 

JULIET. 



FOa TBB BUBAL VlSITEK.- 

Mr. Editor J 

By giving the following a place in your 
papery you will oblige a well wisher { and it 
may $erve as a dessert to the many excellent 
moral essays which are contained in the Ru" 
ral Visiter* 

SAMTSCRAGGLE. 

A tayloring wigHt Sam Sgbagglb wm, * 

Of Washington's wide city; 
And Rachbj^ Ross he lov*d» bfcaase 
This Rachel Ross was pretty. 

Love's a delicious thing yon know. 
It makes one f^el all over so. 

Bat Rachel Ross did not love htm* . 

Which griev'd him very badly: 
His eyes in tears of woe did swim. 
And sorrow sunk him sadly. 

How much do pe(^e :indeig0y 
From wounds of master Cupid's bow; 

His heart was hotter than his goose. 

As still he thought about her» 
' I see/ he cried, 'it is no use, 
•For I shall die without her.* 

Never was creature troubled so. 
Since N^'s flood long time ago« 

In Georgetown Ton the butcher dwelt. 

And he was one of twenty; 
And Rachel mighty wishes felt. 
To have fresh meat a plenty. 

Love's very pleasant food you know. 
But beef and lamb are better though. 

Now jealousy had seiz— ^ snip 
Whieh like the grave is cruel^ 
Say^ he, 'I do not care a doit- 
Ill kill Tom— in a duel.' 

For those that love will fight jtoq know, 
And Samuel's conri^ proves It so. 



But Tom the botcher having fired 

A loaded pistol never; * 

Had choice of weapons, and desired 
To fight Sam witKadeavet. 

The man that's chatteng^-ed you k«ov» 
With what he please may fight his foe. 
But Sam Would only fight with ball,— 

And so that matter cndeA 
He then went to the Capitol, 
And to the t<^ ascended* 

Oh dear! how desp'ratedid he gitiw! 
How strange that love should w«rk him sa^ 
He thought he down himself would throw. 

But fear'd he*d after rue it; 
And folks would all laugh at him so. 
He vow'd he would not do it. 

Indeed much wisdom doth it show. 
To look before yon leap, you know. 

Some warlike birth he ask— ed fbi^- 

A naval station gain— ed| 
He went and joined the marine corps, 
To core what htm so pain— ed. 

For very well did Saitouel know, . 
That if he died, he'd— stop his wo^ 
A cold now Tom the butcher took, 

Which soon a fever brought on; 
And life, next Thursday, him forsook, 
'Twas what he had not thought on. 

A cold's a very bad thing you know. 
By cough, or fever^pop we go. 

Sam Scraggle then to Rachel sakl. 

In sober doleful ditty; 
'Since Tom the butcher now is dead. 
Won't yoo on me have pityf* 

For Samuel Scraggle did not know 
What change her mind might undefg9« 
Says she, * III never be your wife-** 

So don't you ask me, prithee; 
I would not have you-.-^n my life. 
And eight more uylors with you.' 
The ladies always love to shew 
Thar cruelty to men in woe. 

Then grievous— ly did Samuel grunt. 

Grew sick, and hourly sigh— edf 
Butgot 'fore long the better on't. 
Or else— he might have di— ed. 

When love begins to better grow, - 
'Tis not so bad to bear, you know. 

Rachel in time did change her mind. 

Lest she should die a virgin; 
To marry Sam she felt inclin*dy 
Indeed 'twas very urging. 

That love's capricious, this doth shdw^ 
What changes it doth undergo— 
Pray ladies, hjin^t yon found it so? 

Says Sam,— *I won't,'— in great disdain- 
La! how was she surpris— edj 
She leam't (too late!) that tayloring men 
Are not to be despis— ed. 

Love's a strange kind of thing, I trow^ 
It makes one itt\ all over so; 
It moveth us all to and fro, 
It wounds the high and smites the low, 
As Bonaparte's match doth show. 
And his old vrife's sad overthrow. 
And Rachd*s unexpected woe, 
And Samuel Scragglc's prido«>aIso. 

SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 

Sirlsaac had a great abhorrence of iofideli- 
ty, and never failed to reprove those i#ho 
made free with Revelation in his presence, of 
which the followingls an instance. Dn Hal- 
ley was sceptically inclined and sometimes 
took the libertv of sporting with the scrip- 
tures. On such an occasion Sir Isaac said 
to him; " Dr. Hallcy, I am always glad 
to hear you when you speak about astronomy, 
or other parts of the mathematicks, because 
that is a subject which you have studied and 
wdU understand; but you should not tattle 
of Christianity, for you have never studied 
it. I have, and know you know nothing of 
1 the matter.'* 



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318 



THE RURAL VISITEfl, 



tOR THE RURAL VISITER. 



Stapleton presents his compliments to Le- 
ander, aitd thinks be has missed his niiti a lit- 
tle, where he first charges me with illusions 
to circumstances which he acknowledges true; 
and^hen immediately classes me amongst the 
** ignorant." 'As to his additional character- 
iatick of "malignancy" bestowed, my feelings 
are so little like any thing of tiiat kind, I am 
free thus publickly'to protest, that I have not 
the smallest desire my observations should 
be productive of other effects, than the refor- 
mation of such a character as is partrayed; 
and the serious regard of one part of my spe- 
cies to the connexions which they suffer 
themselves to form. If Leander is a married 
gentleman, and has heretofore lived so as to 
render himself liable to the censure of the 
world, *tis with sincere pleasure Stapleton 
learns that " the effect has ceased which those 
causes produced." To the publick decision 
he submits the question, whether he has 
pointed at any particulars in his remarks, 
which could lead the most acute to suspect 
Lemider of QithcY inconstancy or impropriety. 
On the private note which was conveyed 
to me by the Editor of the Visiter, I forbear 
making any publick remark; never havinghad 
any ill will or evil wish toward Leander. I 
sincerely regret the turn which he has given 
this subject for his own sake. 

STAPLETON. 



From the London Monthly Magazine* 

A method of taking off the Impression of leaves, 
plants, &c. in a correct and expeditious manner. 

Take half a sheet of fine wove paper, and 
oil it well with sweet oil: after it has stood a 
minute or two to let it soak through, rub off 
the supei-fluous oil with a piece of paper, and 
let it hang in the air to dry. After the oil is 
pretty well dried in, take a lighted candle or 
lamp, and move die paper slowly over it in a 
horizoutal direction, so as to touch the fianae, 
till it is pet-fec% black. When you wish to 
take off impressions of plants, lay your plant 
carefully on the oiled paper, and lay a piece 
of clean paper over it, and rub it with your 
finger equally in all parts for about half a mi- 
nute: tlien take up your plant, and be careful 
not to disturb the order of the leaves, and 
place it on the book, or paper on which you 
wish to have the impression. Then cover.it 
with a piece of blotting paper, and rub it with 
your finger for a short time, and you will 
have an impression euperiourto the finest en- 
graving. The same piece of black paper, 
will serve to take off a great niunber of im- 
pression?^:- sa that when you have once gone 
through die process of blacking it, you may 
make an impression in a very short time. 

The principal excellence of this method is, 
that the paper receives the impression of the 
most minute veins and hairs; so that you may 
take the general character of most flowers, 
much superiouf to any engraving. The im- 
pressions may afterwards be coloured Record- 
ing to nature? 



ANECDOTE. 

When Oliver Cromwell entered upon the 
command of the Parliament's army against 
Charles I. he ordered all his soldiers |o carrj' 
a Bible in their pockets; (the same which is 
now called Field's.) Among the rest, thtre 
was a wild, wicked young fellow, ^i^ ran 
away from his apprenticeship in London, for 
the sake of plunder and dissipation. This fel- 
low was obliged to follow the fashion. Being 
one day ordered out upon a skirmishing par- 
ty, or to attack some fortress, he returned to 
his quarters in the evening unhurt. When 
he was going to bed, pulling the Bible out of 
his pocket, he observed a hole in it. His curi- 
osity led him to trace the depth of the hole 
into his Bible. He found a bullet was gone as 
far as the eleventh chapter of Ecclesiastes, 
9th verse. He read the verse. — ^** Rejoice 
young many in thy youths and let thy heart 
cheer thee in the days of thy youthy and xvalk 
in the ways of thine hearty and in the sight of 
thine eyes: out know thou that for all these 
things God will brixig thee into judgment^^^ 
The words were set home upon his heart by 
the divine Spirit, so that he became a very se- 
rious and sound believer in the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and lived in London many years af- 
ter the civil wars were over. He used plea- 
santly to observe to Dr. Evans, author of the 
Christian Temper, that the Bible was the 
means of saving his soul and body too. 



INTELLIGENCE. 

FOnEIGK. 

Arrived the brig Catharine Ray, Mastcrton, 28 days 
from L'Orient, with 39 cabin passengers, and distress- 
ed American seamen. The editors of the New-York 
Gazette are Indebted to a French gentleman, passen^ 
ger, for the subsequent detaiU 

The' evening before leaving L 'Orient, there were 
rejoicings on Account of news having arrived of the 
Empress having been brought to bed of a son, who is 
called; the **King of Home, and Young Eroperour of 
the West" This intelligence came by Telegraph. 

The French Journale du Commerce contains from 
the first ot January to the 15th of March, advices of 
233 bankruptcies. 

A decree of the 8th March, gives all the offices in 
the administration to the military; and for the future, 
none wlU be admitted ip such office without having 
been at least five years in the amny. 

An Order was issued from the Post Master Gene- 
ral, to bum all the letters directed from France to Eng- 
land or from EngUoid to France, without examining 
them. 

Extract of a Letter from a gentleman of respectability 

in Baltimore, to his friend in Philadelphia, dated 

BalUmore, Sunday, April 21. 

** I am happy to inform you that a vessel has arriv- 
ed at Norfolk, in a short passage from Lisbon, bring- 
ing certain accounts of a general action between "Lord 
Wellington and Massena. The former out-manoeuvred, 
attacked, and completely defeated the French army, 
on the Mondego; 5000 were killed, their route com- 
plete, and 9000 British horse harassing and dreadful- 
ly distressing them. 

«* General Graham has also totally defeated the 
French anny before Cadiz, and raised the siege; there 
was hard fighting there, and the French were flying 
in every direction. 

•• I have no time to procure and enclose a hand bill 
which is issued with this news.'' 

The ship Enterprise, Capt. Brown, arrived at New- 
York from London, and 25 days from the Downs, 
brings London papers to the 16tb, and verbal news to 
the 20th ult. 

A passenger in the Enterprise received a letter from 
his friend in London, jiist before the ship left the 



Howns, dated the 20th o£ March, staling that the kto^ 
had a relapse of his disease on the 18th, and continoea 
ill on the 20th. 

It is stated, verbally, that the United States Frigate 
Essex, with Mr. Pinkne>t on board, wa« to sail for the 
United States about the 10th of April, and that a fri- 
gate, with Mr. Foster, the new itunister to the United 
States, would leate J^ngiand aboot the same time. 

Luciea Bonaparte, in his comfortable retreat at £«fxi- 
lowhas composed anepick poem of considerable length, 
which he entitles •' CnAtiiiEMA^ifE," intending it for 
speedy publication. The few who have seen it, sp^iLk 
highly of the poetick beauties with which several of its 
episodes abound. The property brought over by Ln- 
cien amounts to 100,0001. in good bilb, duly honotircd 
by British merchants. With the interest thencfc arising, 
he contrives, by an economical arrangement, to keep 
an elegant table, and an establishment of thirty donnes- 
ticks. He takes gre^t delight in the education of his 
eldest daughter, a beautiful and accomplished girt, 
about 15 years of i^, and proposes, if goveiimient 
indulge him by a continued residence in that country, 
which he so much admires, to devote a porUon of his 
time to the practice of English agriculture, which he 
much admires. Lucien is a man of general knowledge, 
and in the most critical times in Paris was reckoned* 
in point of talent, second only to Mirabeau. Uis speech- 
es, while a meniber of the council of Five Hundred, 
were extremely eloquent, and exhibited the marks of 
a vigorous and cultivated mind, 

Mr. Ferguson, a Scotch mill-wright, has lately made 
a mangle upon a new construction, which is said to pos- 
sess great merit. It stands on perhaps less than four 
feet square; is excited by a lever acting on a wedge, 
which is very powerful; and is a very handsome arti- 
cle—price 151. It is said that he can make them on a 
somewhaK different plaa for about 51. 

By the last Edinburgh Farmer's Magazine, we learn 
that Mr. Andrew Mickle,an ingenious mechanist who 
not long since invented a threshing machine, has re- 
ceived the sum of ^.1428 10 6 sterling, raised by vol- 
untary contribution, as an acknowledgmeilt for the 
benefit which the agricultm-al interest of his country 
has received from the invention.- At the time of mak- 
ing this statement the subscription' papers had not all 
been returned; so that a further sum was e^tpectcd. 

A Chinese is said to have invented a kind of wikl- 
fire, which nothing can extinguish till the materials to 
which it attaches itself are totally consumed, and with 
this invention only, he has, in a small junk, succeeded 
in decoying some Ladrone piratical dows to pursue 
himy and then effected their destruction. 



MARRIED, 
At New-Brunswick, N.J. by the Rev. Mr. Croes, Capt. 
E. B. CLEMSON, of the 1st regiment of the United 
States' infantry, of the state of Pennsylvania, to the 
amiable Miss ANN MARIA OLIVER, formeriy of 
Shelbume, Nova Scotia. 



Prices current at Burlington* 

Clover Seed ^, S 10,00 

Wheat. ^.........SjOO 

Rye ^ ,..1,00 

Indian Com......^..... 0,66 

Oats....,.,.....,.., 0,40 

Flax....*. ...4....0,12 



^ The Editors of the.Rural Visiter, having for 
three months past considerably exceeded their engage- 
ments to the publick, by regularly presenting them with 
eight pages weekly, instead of^r and eight aiteriiate- 
ly, at a price quite inadequate to their expenses— to 
which they were stimulated entirely by the pleasure 
they experienced in cultivating a taste for mental im- 
provement; they are now under the necessity, in con- 
sequence of their other numerous engagements, of re- 
ducing tiie paper to its original size of four pages per 
week: under these circumstances, they confidently caJ- 
culate that the alteration will meet with the geceial 
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THE RURAL VISITER. 



*• JSbmo sum j humctni nihil a me aUenum puto.''^ — Man and his cares tome a man, are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, FIFTH MONTH (MAY) 6th, 1811. 



No. 41. 



TWE RECORDER. ^ 
NO. XL. 

S» saperem* doctas odxssem jure sorores, 
Kumma cultori pcrniciosa suo* 

OVXD, 

Had my weak head with wisdom been endued, 
I should have shunned their shrine, and ne'er pursued 
Tliose cheating Muses, who with luring eyes 
Invite, then laugh to scorn, theii: fbolish votaries* 

The above melancholy complaint of the 
anfortunate Ovid, vrhich as Mr. Sheridan 
says, I have endeavoured to translate for the 
benefit of the countrv members, should be 
faniitiar to every young person; but should 
more especially be frequently the subject of 
meditation, with those who have leisure 
hours spared from other avocations, and are 
afBicted with the epidemick disease aptly 
termed among those of the Roman school the 
Caccethes Scribendi^ or in our vernacular idi- 
om the **itch of scribbling/' This disease has 
committed more ravages among the good 
folks of oar country, than ever the plague 
did among the inhabitants of Constantinople; 
or the frequent use of brandy among the 
wretchedAooriginesof this continent. It is by 
no means a new disease in the world; though 
I am ignorant whether any medical gradu- 
ate has ever benefited the publick by any sci- 
entifick account, of its proximate and remote 
causes, of ite attendant symptoms, or the 
most effectual and radical cure; they have 
however I doubt not made numerous inqui- 
ries into the subject, as we have no small 
number of instances wherein they have them- 
selves caught the infection, to which doubtless 
they submitted themselves freely; through a 
laudable desire of more surely making them- 
selves masters of the subject. 

However let it not be supposed that I have 
any idea of endeavouring to fill up this tre- 
mendous chasm. I have not the presumption 
to hope(i:M>t being of the faculty) that any bene- 
ficial consequences would result from the 
attempt, even were I perfectly qualified. But 
reaUy the state in which we are, is so" tre- 
mendously awful'' as Mr. Burke says, that 
something decisive must speedily be effected. 
What few observations I have made upon 
the subject such as they are, are at the service 
of. any gentleman who will undertake the 
task. There is one symptom that accompanies 
this disorder, invariably, I believe; but whe- 
ther it be the consequence, or the cause of the 
distemper, I have not yet been able to deter- 
mine to my own satisfaction: this is most 
egregiouft vanity. It was said pf-^ Socrates 
vmen the oracle at Delphi had ^pronounced 
him the wisest of men, that all his wisdom 
eooaisted in a full conviction of his ovm igno- 
rance: and it has been frequently observed, 



that men of the profoundest depth of under- 
standing, are generally speaking, equally dis- 
tinguished by the humility of their disposi- 
tions; and vice versa. Those who know nothing 
but the current knowledge, which is within the 
reach of every man, and attained by almost 
all; know not the richness and depth of the 
mine which remains unexplored, and are con- 
sequently, ignorant of their own deficiencies. 
Persons of this description are constantly 
vaunting of their acquirements; and humbly 
conceiving that they have attained that high 
standing which their vanity induces them to 
believe they merit, they arrogate a superiority 
over men whose minds are much more 
improved. Because the contraction of their 
visual organs prevents their viewing any 
extent of prospect, they immediately deter- 
mine that Acre is nothing more worth seeing, 
beyond the scene immediately before them. 
Lord Bacon tells us, that our capacities for re- 
ceiving knowledge, increase with the exercise 
of the faculties employed in its acquisition. 
That is, our understanding is strengthened 
by exercise, and those powers of the mind 
which are requisite to comprehend what we 
study, are increased and augmented by being 
exerted. The result of all these opinions is, 
that the vanity which is so manifest in com- 
mon writers, particularly of poetiy, proves 
that they have no capacity to instruct or 
please us; and would rather induce us to 
believe that this is the immediate and effi- 
cient cause, which impels them to attempt \U 
This then I consider as the cause of the 
disorder.— Vanity may be deri%'ed from va- 
rious sources, of which for the sake of brevi- 
ty, I shall enumerate — ^none. But it is par- 
ticularly conspicuous in certain, boarding, 
school misses, who frequently, even before 
Aey have completed their co\xrse of the libe- 
ral arts and sciences, niathematicks, chemis- 
try and natural philosophy, with a vast vari- 
ety of other branches, which I cannot at pre- 
sent recollect; but for which I refer those 
who are inquisitive upon this point, to the 
puffing advertisements of some of these scho- 
lar manufacturers; come but before the pub- 
lick with a collection of lovesick sonnets,, 
madrigals, extemporaneous effusions on va- 
rious occasions, odes and lyricks. After 
their patents have expended vast sums of 
money upon their education, and exerted 
themselves to enable their fsdr daughters to 
appear without discredit in a literary -com- 
pany; they think to rep^y, and more than 
reipay all diis care, trouble and expense, by. 
a few couplets of poctryl Ixiiflaencedbjgthe 
unerring, unbiassed, and in every respect r 
competent approving decision of their own 
judgments,^upon the puny ofTspring of thehr. 
tastcsi they venture with a few nesitatbg 



pauses, fearful half extorted explanations, 
and modest blushes, to offer their first essays 
to the no less properly qualified opinion of a 
fond and doting mother; who, with less taste 
thwi affection, and more partiality than 
correctness, applauds them as undoubted 
evidences of a taste highly improved, and a 
fancy luxuriant and fertile as a new asparagus 
bed. Instigated by this applause, the young 
poet is tempted to renew her devotions at 
the shrine of Apollo, and the daughters of 
Mnemosyne; and believes her brain has 
been cleared, and her imagination warmed 
by a copious draught of the oystal fountain 
of Aganippe, for which she has mistaken a 
dram of fulsome flattery from a childish 
mother. 

I will now mention some attempts that I 
have made to cure some persons afflicted; 
not as courses to be pursued, but by all 
means carefully to be avoided: for I would 
as soon think of recommending a patient 
with the scarlet fever to sup upon turtle soup 
and Madeira, as I would try the same course 
again with a patient whom I meant to cure. 
I once attempted to remove the distemper 
from a young lady, by insisting largely upon 
the various qualities necessary to constitute 
a poet; and actually went to her with two 
sheets and a half of paper closely written, of 
compliments paid to those- who had distin- 
^isned themselves in this manner, all tend- 
mg to show the exalted character of a poet, 
and the various qualifications with which he 
must be endowed. I found out, but too late, 
that instead* of removing the disease, I had 
administered medicines of a nature best cal- 
culated to aid its pernicious tendencies, and 
to fix it more deeply in the system. For my 
patient having embraced the idea that she 
¥ras actually a poet, every thing I said to 
raise the charat:ter, appeared in the light of 
a compliment, and she really took it aQ to 
herself; and after paying me a few highly 
wrought compliments upon my critical ta- 
lents, my felicity of expression, and acciu-acy 
of discrimination, said that such praise from 
such a person, would operate most power- 
fully, as an additional incentive to greater 
exertions. 1 saw the mischief and how vain 
, it Would be to endeavour to remove it, and 
retired full of astonishment and vexation. 

Disappointed beyond measure at this un- 
expected result of my attempt, I resolved to 
. proceed in my next essay upon an entirely 
i diffi&rent counie; hoping that opposite causes 
j wo^ild produce contradictory effects. The 
next person therefore, I endeavoured to per- 
! suade that her poetical efiusions were insipid, 
spiritless, and dull; that the language v^as 
gaudy and unmeaning; and that the highest 
eulogii^n tlu^t could be passed upon ^em. 



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THE RURAL VISITER* 



MILK^^_ 

llHiuiig tfte Wo Jem improvemente in fann- 
ing, the dairy has of late years, been very 
much neglected. So much of the profit of 
breeders depending upon the facility with 
which the milk of the cow may be reserved 
during the suckling time of the calf, the fol- 
lowing substitute, used in Germany for the 
natursJ food of the young progeny^ may be 
acceptable to our country readers: 

Let as much water be heated on the fire as 
the calf would be disposed to drink $ and, 
when it boils, throw one or two handfulls of 
oatmeal'*!' into it, and after continuing in that 
state for one minute, take it off, and let it be 
cooled to the temperature of new milk, when 
one or two pints of skimmed milk are to be 
added to it. With this beverage the young 
animal will fatten ^nd thrive prodigiously; 
the milk of the parent will be applied to the 
dairyi and the intelligent farmer will imme- 
diately discover the great advantage to be 
derived, in the produce of the dairy, from 
such an expedient. 

"* The meal of Indian com is successfully 
used for the same purpose, in some parts of 
the United States* U, & Gaz. 

From the Boston Centineh 

<i HYMNS FOR INFANT MINDS.'* 

Not long since we gave two extracts from 
a publication which had recently appeared in 
England, under the above tide, and which 
had there become deservedly esteemed for 
its moral and appropriate design, and its sim- 
ple but beautiful diction. We are now happy 
to observe, that a copy of these ^^ Hymns for 
Infant Mlnds^'* has reached this country; 
that they are in the press of Messrs. Munroe 
and Francis, and will be published in a few 
days. These "Z^^/wn«" (seventy in number) 
should be put into the hand and impressed 
upon the mind of every child; as from the 
precepts they inculcate, the most pleasing and 
beneficial moral effects may be produced. 
In addition to the specimens of these hynms 
already given in the Centinel, we add the 
following* 

HYMN XXVI. 

^ytsu9 taidy tuffer little CbH^^en to come unto me.'*^ 

As Infants once to Christ were brought. 

That ke might bless them there, 
, So now we little childrei) ought 
To seek the same by prayer. 

For when their little hands were spread 

And bent each infant knee, 
**Forbid them^notf*^ the Saviour said— 

And he says so for me. 

Though now he is not here below, 

Bm. on h]& heavenly hill, . 
To him maiy little children go, 

And seek a^blessing still 

Well pleas*dthat little flock to see, 

The Saviove kindly smird;— 
Oh then he will not frown on me. 

Because I am a child* 
For as so many years ago. 

Poor babes his pity drew, 
I'm sure he will not let me go 

Without a blessing too, 

TheQy while this favour to implorew 

My little hands are spread, 
Bo then thy sacred blessing pour, 

*X)W Jvivs! oa zny h^ 



TOR THE KITftAL VISXTfift. 

A SONG. 

Oh! come to the meadows, so blooming and gay. 
The storms are ail hush'd, and the season is May; 
The rose tree's in blossom, the nightingales sing. 
And the honey-dews fall on the bosom of spring; 
Sweet Lucy, dear Lucy, Oh! hasten away, 
The nightingales sing, and the season is May. 
Oh! come to the meadows, they*re sprinkled for you. 
With morning's soft showers and wild-blossom's dew; 
Yi\ lead thec» away where the eglantines grow. 
Where the jessamines bloom and the white roses blow. 
Sweet Lucy, dear Lucy, Oh! hasten away, 
The nightingales sing, and the season is May. 
Oh! come to the meadows, and listen with me 
To the song of affeetion that steate from each tree; 
A thousand harps mingle thdr strains thro* the grov^i 
And ev*ry sound's melody, musick and love; 
Sweet Lucy, dear Lucy, Oh! hasten away. 
The nightingales sing, and the season is May. 

D.D. 



POa THK RUnAL VISITER. 

MAYING. 

Say,' dear Eliza, whither now, 

Another vis't paying? 
No, no, my Edgar, no my boy. 

We all are going a Maying! 

The lark she carols in the air. 

The sun announces day; 
While melody, of sweetest sounds. 

Floats from each waving spray* 

Come get your hat, come haste away, 

III pick you, sir, a flbw'r; 
I'll dress your brow with woodbine v^reath. 

From yon Elyslan bow'r. 

Look up, look down, the street is full* 

All bent upon the pleasure; 
We'll laugh, well talk, and say smart things. 

And steal— the blissful treasure! 
Then come, my boy, come harte away. 

We'll climb the flow'l7 mountain; 
Then down we'll go, the plain below« 

To drink the running fountain. 

The sweetest flow'r I can collect, ' 

Shall grace Eliza's hairj 
While each young fellow, anxiously 

Will try to please his faur. 
In winter's dull and gloomy time. 

Some pleasure find in sleighing; 
But greater pleasure will / find 

With you, dear girl, a Maying! 

ALFRED. 



TO CO&BB8?0NDBNTS. 

The criticism upon Cooke for several reasons, can- 
not appear in the Rural Visiter; we shall however de- 
liver It over to someof oor brother editors for publici- 
ty. Its anthor needs no assurance that his productions 
are always particularly acceptable to us: the only cen- 
sure we can bestow upon him is, that hedeprives the 
publick of much pleasure and instruction, by so ibldom 
exerting bis talents in their behalf. 

We arc not ignorant that the Scriptures command 
08 to love our neighbour as ourselves; but would it not 
be better to put it in practice, without making so much 
pr^ession of it? 

/—meets with a cordial reception after her long ab- 
sence. 



INTELUGENCE. 

! DOMESTICi;. 

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 
: A gentleman from Europe, perfectly acquainted 
with the manufacturing of Queens Ware, China Ware, 
and Crucibles, has deposited in the counting-room, of 
jthe Freeman's Jounial, for the inspection ^ toy gen- 
tlemen who may be desirous to see Ihemi 
1 1st. A nest of Crucibles, for melting gold and - 

silver. OThese have , been tried in New-I^rk, and 

pronounced e^ual to any imported. He has established 
a manufactory of thcjn in a ncishfaouiiiic stait. whi£h4 
ptomis«g to be profitable "'**^'"*^ "*^ ^^^1 



2d. A sample of Q^ieens Ware; aad 

3d. A sample of China Ware, in its crude stat^ 
This last has been analyzed, and the clay found tobesu- 
periour to the English, and cijual to the French and 
German. He has discovered a body of this Ki^ f day 
in America, of which th^e sample is made. 

FOREIGir. 

By the ship Fanny, capt. Burtce, in 9B days from 
Greenock, we have received the following intelligence. 

London, March 23.— Some letters from the north 
continue to mention the probability of a war between 
Russia and France. At it wilt be a war oC^ Bonaparte's 
own seeking, as he will choose his own time for be- 
ginning it, we should pause a little before we consumer 
such an event as a subject of rejoicing and coBjrTatola- 
tion. » o 

Mr. Pinkney, the American ministec, has declined 
being present at the compliHient intended him, of » 
publick dinner by the American merchants in London. 

The sum of 4,70^^000/. of exchequer biUs was writ- 
ten in at the close of the books yesterday. 

By the last accounts received from Riga, we believe 
that the fortifications of that place were extended to a 
considerable length. A number of houses bad been 
pulled down, in order to cover the ground with batte- 
ries. 

The Prince Regent has appointed Robert Listou, 
Esq. minister to the sublime Ottoman court. 

The king remains as weO as he has been ior the 
preceding ten days. 

Capt. Hope, aid-de»camp to general Graham, ar- 
rived at 12 o'clock last night, at the office of the eari 
of Liverpool, from Cadiz, with despatches, dated Isle 
de Leon, the 5th inst. 

On the preceding day, (March 4th,) an attack wu 
made by general Graham with the division under his 
commatid, upon a corps of the army under marshal 
Victor, composed of the two divisions of Ruffin aad 
LavaU 

The contest was severe, and its result, we are re- 
joiced to state, most brilliant and victorious on oar 
I^rtj marshal Victor's force consisted of eight thoc- 
sand men, that of gen. Graham five thousand British 
and Spanish troops. The loss of the enemy was very 
considerable. The field was covered with their slain, 
and not less than 3000 of their men arc supposed to 
have fallen. Besides which, we look prisoners gene- 
rals Ruffin, Rousseau and BeUegarde, the former of 
whom was wounded, and about 420 rank and file, to- 
gether with an eagle and six pieces of cannon. The 
loss on the side of the allies consisted of 190 kiBed, and 
940 wounded; but most of the kittcr were expected 
shortly to recover. 

New-York, April 24.— Several d^uties from Ca- 
raccas, arrived here yesterday from Laguira; they wW 
procec^ to Washington.— A new Congress had been 
formed there under the direction of general Miranda. 

The differences that appeared to have been composed 
between Petion and Rigaud in the Isbnd of St^o- 
mingo (or Hayti) have burst mto a fresh flame. A 
gentleman Utely from Port au Princcf, relates that 
strong symptoms of a contest between the mnlattoes 
and negroes, were visible. The form^ were nomemos 
«. *^,?^^"« of Aux Cayes, the seat andcentse of 
gaud's power. There is little security in this aflicted 
island for the lives or property of strangers; and war, 
which among people more civiK2ed leads to an open 
generous contest, where mercy to the vanqobhed, 
treads clos^on the heels of victory; heie assumes the 
character of a massacre— a ferocious, brotol, and mo- 
miscuous slaughter of men, women and chiJdKeii. 

DIED, 

r.Sl?t}t^^ *^"**" ** ^^ **^* resideaee in Haasfield, 
REBECCA WRIGHT, in her 73d year. ~"**'**"' 

Prices current at BufUngUnu 

Clover See<L..M..-« „. jj 10,00 

Wheat.....„M .......^.•^,0O 

?^^.--"- - • -t^ 

Indian Com«,...M.........*,^,^,6S 

gf^ f0t4O 

PubUsbed Weekhf, by £>. Allimmt ^ Co. 

CITY OF avaLlKGTON, H, J. 

»Pric« two DoUari «i«y.tw6 Cents for Votsme tet. 
pay«bk mi-KnaiuOly ia^idyittcr^ ' 

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THE RURAL VISITER. 



** Homo mm ; humani nihil a me aliermm puto.^^^Man and his cares to me a man, are dear. 



VOL- I. 



BURLINGTON, FIFTH MONTH (MAY) 13th, 1811. 



No. 42. 



THE BECORDEBL 

NO. XIX 

y aki is tfae ttee of knowledge withoat firuks. 

Thommon. 

Therearc some truths obvious upon the first 
inspection, and evident upon the most curso- 
ry observation, which we would find it diffi- 
cult if not utterly impracticable, to prove by 
argument or elucidate by reasoning. AU 
reasoning must be founded on first principles, 
on some self evident truths; and until the 
basis is firmly established, the superstructure 
erected can neither be permanent nor secure. 
If the person with whom we argue refuses to 
concede first principles, or if his ihental ej^e 
is enveloped by so impervious a film that he 
is unable to perceive their reasonableness 
and truth, any discussion must be useless. 
We might with equal prospect of success, 
endeavour to make a person understand the 
appearance of the prismatick colours, who is 
totally blind; or to entertain an accurate idea 
of a fine piece of musick, who is destitute of 
the organs of hearing ; as to labour to con- 
vince a man who will coincide in no general 
truths. Of dus nature is the maxim prefixed 
to this week's lucubrations. Unless a man 
can intuitively perceive its truth, I would 
despair of enlightening his mind hy argu- 
ments however lucid, or however cogent. 
Unless a man is studious to acquire know- 
ledge, from a desire of deriving some kind 
of advantage from it ; unless he is impelled 
to commence and persist in this arduous ca- 
reer, by the hope of being enabled to advance 
his interests in some particular; to reader 
him more adequate to meet and overcome 
the difficulties by which he may be encom- 
passed; to qualify him for foreseeing and 
guarding against those impediments that may 
obstruct his progress, or make a better use 
of the advantages which may present them- 
selves; it is utterly beyond my comprehen- 
sion to perceive by what motive he is insti- 
gated. Should a pilot who has become ac- 
qainted with the position of every rock; who 
knows every strait and every quicksand, fail 
to make use of this knowledge in steering his 
vessel, he would inevitably be deemed a mad- 
man or an idiot. Should the artizan or me- 
chanick, who has passed many years in ac- 
quiring a deep insight into all the mtnutics of 
his occupation, leave it just as he had fully 
obtained this knowledge, or fail to employ it 
to some useful purpoee, he would be consid- 
ered as having mispent and wasted his time 
and labour. But if a man, who has enjoyed 
and madd use of every opportunity and ad- 
vantage in arrivbg at a correct acquaintance 
widi his nature; with the duties enjoined on 



hrm by his Creator, the performance of which 
he is well assured wiU be required at his 
hands; neglects to evince in his conduct the 
fruit of the learning of which he is possessed; 
it b regarded as neither strange nor reprehen- 
sible. His wisdom is admired, and makes 
more than an ample compensation for his 
neglect of every duty, his disregard to every 
obligation. He is not considered as being 
the more culpable from his superiour inform- 
ation; but the very knowledge which to the 
eye of sober reason increases his guilt, is 
what renders it venial in the consideration of 
the world. Upon what principle of equity 
or justice is this determined? Or rather 
; must not every principle of reason be contra- 
dicted or involuted, in order to effect it? The 
precepts of religion and the determinations 
of commoa sense, are in this respect in strict 
alliance and conformity. They both inform 
us that from him to whom much has been 
given, much will be required; that superiour 
information only deepens the crimson dye, 
and possesses no purifying or cleansing pro- 
perties. 

There are some, who conceive that all the 
use of learning is the pleasure which is affi:)rd- 
ed of meditating upon our knowledge; of 
indulging in those delightful but visionary 
phantasms; which will ever float in the mind, 
stored with great and extensive erudition: 
From the pleasure which we enjoy of look- 
ing over our hoards, like a miser, without 
applying them to any salutary or profitable 
purpose. Others imagine that nothing could 
ever induce them to become students, to 
ransack the musty volumes of antiquity, to 
pursue the philosophers through the intrica- 
cies and mazy researches into science; but 
the prospect and hope of obtaining the ap- 
plause oi the ignorant, for their superiour 
knowledge." They agree with the Koman 
poet Persius, that knowledge scarcely de- 
serves the name, until others know we pos- 
sess it: Such persons entertain ideas no way 
worthy of the honourable merits of science. 
The pleasures and gratifications resulting 
from an acquaintance with the circle of libersd 
science; from having wandered over the 
fields of learning; how grateful and exalted 
soever they may be, how worthy of tfie lofty 
character of man; yet are only entitled to the 
rank of secondary considerations. They are 
incidental to the great point in view, and as 
such are deserving of much of our attention; 
but they are by no means worthy of totallv 
engrossing our hearts and our wishes. If 
such were the only advantages resulting from 
it, it would afford but an indifferent rec- 
ompenae for the sacrifices of time and labour 
which must necessarily be devoted to their 
acquisition; and philosophers could no longer 



with any colour of propriety or justice, ex- 
claim against the unworthiness and degene- 
racy of the sensuafist. 

Philario is a young man of splendid ac- 
quirements, extensive erudition, and bril- 
liant talents. He has studied much, and is 
deeply conversant with almost txtrj branch 
of science. He is perfecdy acquainted with 
his bible, and witfi many of the observations 
of the best commentators upon it; has read 
and heard most of the best sermons, and can 
discourse with the most profound theolo- 
gians, not merely upon the leading doctrines 
of Christianity, but upon the minutest regu- 
lations^ and most abstruse points of religion 
and ethicks. But tiiis learning is only mani- 
fested in his writings and conversation; no 
evidences of it are perceptible in his conduct. 
He believes in the divine origin of the scrip- 
tures, and knows what are the denunciations 
against sin; yet nevertheless, in his life and 
behaviour he is a complete man of the world, 
a sensualist, and a debauchee. He has been 
much in company, and is acquainted with all 
the canons of politeness and decorum; yet 
he daily and grossly offends by his vulgarity 
and rudeness. He is acquainted with the 
whole system of political science, and in his 
closet is capable of deciding with the greatest 
accuracy upon all questions connected with 
it; yet I have known him advocate measures 
in publick, which he privately condemned. 
He Is au excellent accomptant, yet his affairs 
are ever in disorder. Ot what use is all his 
knowledge? What was the object of his ac- 
quiring it? Who can answer? The language 
of the ^hnoral poet" recurs to our thoughts, 
and we can scarce forbear exclaiming, 

" Knowledge dwells 
In heads replete with thoughts of other men; 
Wisdom in minds attentive to their pwi\. 
Knowledge, a rude unpro&table maBs, 
The mere materials, with which wisdom^builda, 
Till smoothed and squared and fitted to its plsKP* 
Does but encumber what it seems t' enrich: 
Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much; 
Wisdom is humble that be knows no more." 

AN EXTRACT. 

Were there no reward for virtue after this 
life, a wise man would practise it for its own 
beauty and reasonableness here: yet the 
wisest man in that case might be unhappy 
from the perversity of accidents; but he wno 
adds to the pleasures of virtue^ the hopes of 
religion^ has no excuse for sinking under anr 
misfortune; and without the extravagance of 
philosophical pride, may always find a re- 
source m his mind, as much superiour to all 
human events, as the infinite extent of eter- 
nity is beyond the short bounds of humati 
duration#— Gwr^^, Lord Lyttletcn, 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



THE NEW JERSEY BIBLE SOCIETY. 

No. X, 

Extract from an advertisement of the Roman 
Catholick Bibk Society at Ratisbony to the 
Christians of that persuasion throughout 
Germany. 

"rTO THOSE WHO. VALUE THE DOCTRINE OF 
JESUS. 

** Dear Brethren and Sisters in Christy 

** It is desirable that the holy Scriptures 
of the New Testament could be put into the 
hands of many pious Christians at a low price. 
I'hereby they would be comforted in their 
afflictions, strengthened in their trials, and 
more preserved from the temptations of the 
World* Many excellent souls do not find in the 
publick religious instruction, that, for which 
they hunger — they are also often in the con- 
fessional only judged fortheir outward deeds, 
without being led to an acknowledgment of 
their inward corruption, and to faith in the 
blood of Tesus their Redeemer. If these 
could read the holy Scriptures of the New 
Testament in the quiet time of holy days, 
their faith in the simple doctrines of Jesus 
Christ, would by the mercy of their Saviour, 
be thereby enlivened; and the Lord's gifts in 
the Holy Spirit be quickened in them. They 
would hear the voice of the Father in their 
inward parts, which would lead them to their 
Saviour; of whom Christ saith * they shall 
be all taught of God; and whosoever hath 
learned of the Fatlicr, and receiveth it, com- 
cth unto me.' John vi. 44. 

^' Also, cliristian Brothers and Sisters could 
meet together in small parties of two or three 
on Sunday and holiday afternoons, and read 
a chapter in the New Testament, and confer 
together on it, whereby a subject of short 
united prayer^ would impress it on their 
minds, and what the Lord saith would be ful- 
filled, * If two of you shall agree on earth, as 
touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall 
be done for them of my father in Heaven.' 
Mat. xviit. 19. 

*' Christians! you are so unlike the world, 
you are regarded as nothing by it: It has no 
satisfaction in you, and you also can gain 
none by it— and when you arc for having here 
and there a little fellowship with it, then it 
causes disquiet to your spirits, and you soon 
ftad yourselves in the like state with Peter, 
when he was among* the people in the Hall. 
Be ye separated then, and let it be as the 
Lord saith, * There shall be five in one house 
divided, three against two, and two against 
three,' LCtke xii. 52. But be ye so much 
the m«re imited together in the Lord, in joint 
prayer, and in comfort of the words of Christ. 

*'*' From these considerations has arisen, in 
the minds of many, to set on foot a cheap 
German edition of the New Testament, for 
the use of many pious Christians, the reposi- 
tory thereof bemg at Ratisbon, in the Eccle- 
siastical Seminaiy, as a central place in Ger- 
many, and to wait for what the Lord may be 
pleased farther to work therein. 

** I hereby give this intelligence to some 
known confessors of Christ, with a request, 
that they" will consider the matter before the 
Lord; reco^amend it to him in prayer; and 



if he is pleased to affDrd them an opportunity 
to contribute in any way towards it, that they 
will not neglect it. Christian poverty and 
love have accomplished greater things in the 
world, than the power and riches of the world 
could do. 

" O Lord! Redeemer of our souls! Shep- 
herd of the small despised flock! do with this 
work as may please thee. Thy kingdom pro- 
ceeds with an incessant pace in a stiD small 
way, and those who oppose it can do nothing 
against it, but become Ay footstool and con- 
tribute to the rest of thy feet in the peace of 
thy people. If it please thee, let diy holy 
history — ^the history of thy childhood — of thy 
ministry— of thy sufferings — and of thy vic- 
tory in the holy Spirit in the Apostles and 
firstlings of the Christian Church, come into 
the hands of thy litde on^s, for their comfort 
and confirmation!'' 

Extract from a letter from a Roman Catholick 
Clergyman in Suabia^ in Germany. 
" I feel the highest regard for the wise and 

Erudent zeal of the English Bible Committee, 
ecause'it is my own desire to see the pure 
and genuine word of God spread; and am so 
entirely against all corruption of this invalua- 
ble treasure, that I myself would prevent it by 
all means in my power. As the degeneracy 
of aD outward churches is so great and gene- 
ral, and still threatens to become greater and 
more general, I comfort myself with this, that 
the Lord is retiring into the inner temple, 
and more gloriously building up the invisible 
church. At least he does not sit idle at the 
right hand of his Father, nor can he loose 
his suit; whatever may now be the appear- 
ance, he must finally be the gainer. Our duty 
however is this, to pray more earnestly than 
ever, *Let thy kingdom come! and Lord abide 
with us, for it is towards evening.* Dr. Sai- 
ler, who, by his truly evangelical instructions 
and writings has proved a great blessing to 
the Roman Catholicks in Germany, thus ex- 
presses himself in his last work; * Christia- 
nity is so firmly founded on its own basis, that 
after it has oudived the times of persecution 
— after it has remained unshaken in the age 
of superstition, it will also outlive the age of 
infidelity and contempt.' Therefore we can- 
not sufiiciently rejoice, that we are privileged 
to serve such a master, who is infinitely supe- 
riour to all his enemies, who has the victory 
in his hands ever since the world has stood; 
who shall finally put all enemies under his 
feet — at whose name everv knee shall bow, 
and every tongue confess, tnat Jesus Christ is 
Lord. Nor shall we be able, suflSciendy to 
know and appreciate all the excellencies of 
the kingdom of Christ, and the exalted dig- 
nity of his person: Never shall we be able ful- 
ly to comprehend the favour and happiness 
vouchsafed to them who shall be partakers of 
the kingdom of God, through faith in Christ. 
Would not even our blessed Lord and Sav- 
iour himself rejoice to see the fraternal union, 
which subsists between us; the interest which 
we mutually take in each other, and the sin- 
cerity of oiir wish to see all our Brethren be- 
come partakers of the same blessings! Yes 
Lord! let thy kingdom come, and be extend- 
ed further and further. May our blessed 
Lord and Saviour daily more become that 



^ich he is made of God unto us, wisdom, 
righteousness, sanctificatton and redemption. 
Yea, may he become our all in all : and we 
fruitful branches in him the living Vine. — 
May light, and life, and love be multiplied in 
us, tod may the peace of God, which passeth 
all understanding, keep our hearts and minds 
in the love of God and his dear son Jesus 
Christ." 

FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

The Bcccy clouds are fringM with gold, 
I'hc hawthorn drops its pearlv dew, 
Awak'ning blossoms now untold, 
The skj assumes its azure hue; 
7'hus opViBg with the break <ti dajr 
The genUe reign of rosy May. 

Now on yon little eastern knoll, 
Bright Phoebus gilds the humid soil- 
Sweet to the sentimental soul. 
As waking infancy's first smile: 
Whilst fluttVing birds on cv'ry spray 
Warb'ling salute the birth of May. 

And next the western forest feels 
The influence of his genial rays; 
First on some spiring top he steals. 
Then midst the lower foilage plays: 
The squirrel bounds from spray to spray. 
And joyous sharea the charms of May. 

And o'er the lee — late dimly seen, 
Rises some humble village spire; 
Half hid amidst surrounding green. 
Reflective throws its borrow'd fire: 
Round it the chattering martins play— 
On busy wing enjoy sweet May, 

Up the mountain's craggy sides. 
Or through the deep and hollow vale — 
Or where the lucid river glides 
Scarce rippled by the gentle gale— 
Thither 111 bend my Ustless way. 
All have their chamns in rosy May. 

Hear the .woodman's echoing stroke 
Back from the cavern deep recoil— 
Or see the ploughman's sturdy yoke 
In furrows lay the mellow soU; 
Whilst cowboys tune the rustick lay 
Of artless Love, and rosy May. 

The less'ning shadows speak too plain, 
•• Short is the hour design'd for Love!" 
Awake! each nymph— awakel each twatiH— 
Together seek the rural grove; 
There— under veiling blossoms stray» 
Nor miss the joys of rosy May. 

Where the modest violet blows, 

And the sweet-brier scents around— 

Where the gay yellow lily grows, 

And duster'd wild-pinks press the ground — 

There— gentle lovers should yc stray 

To taste the joys of rosy May. 

Beneath the waving pine trees' shade. 
That o'er the murmuring streamlet bend; 
There let your mutual vows be mtde, 
From thence to Cupid*s court ascend— ^ 
An off 'ring suited to the day, 
Cupid's own month is rosy May. L 



POOR PILGRIM. 
No. VL 

To be despis'd and lose all wealth* 
To love my neighbour as myself. 
And die to save a life from death. 

For friendship's sake is dotye 
This heavenly virtue all admire. 
Father of love ! with it inspire 
My soul, and raise it higher aivd bi|jber» 

To thee my sovere%n Beauty. 

If thou assist, this I can do: . 
Excite such love to her I'd woo, 
With greater love to thee, thou trae ' 

And sovereign Charity: 
Mani nevertnarry any one 
Unless thou feelst this love b^un* 
That flows to Father, Spirit;^ Son, 

In j^turous harmony. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



•22S 



OF THE MIDDLE STATION OF 
LIFE. 

. The moral of the following fable will easi- 
ly discover itself, without my explaining it. 
One rivulet meeting another, witfiwhomhe 
had been long united in strictest amit}', with 
noisy haughtiness and (fisdain thus bespoke 
htm — ^^^What, brother! still in the same state! 
Still low and creeping! Are you not asham- 
ed, when you behdd me, who, though late- 
ly in like condition with you, am now 
become a great river, and shall shortly be 
able to rival the Danube or the Rhine, provi- 
ded those friendly rains continue; which have 
favoured my banks, but neglected yours?"— 
" Very true," replies the humble rivulet: 
** You are now, indeed, swoln to a gf eatsize; 
but methinks you are become withal, some- 
what turbulent and muddy. I am content- 
ed with my low condition and my purity." 

Instead of commenting upon this fable, I 
shall take occasion from it to compare the 
diflFerent stations of life, and to persuade such 
of my readers as are placed in the. middle 
station to be satisfied with it, aa the most 
eligible of all others. These form the most 
numerous rank of men ^at can be supposed 
susceptible of philosophy; and, therefore, all 
discourses of morality ought principally to 
be addressed to them. The great are too 
much immersed in pleasure; and the poor 
too much occupied in providing for the neces- 
sities of life, to hearken to the calm voice of 
reason. The middle station, as it is most 
happy in many respects, so particularly in 
this, that a man placed in it, can, with great- 
est leisure, consider his own happiness, and 
reap a new enjoyment, from comparing his 
situation with that of persons above or below 
him. 

Agur's prayer is sufficiently noted — ^-^ Two 
things have 1 required of thee; deny me them 
not before I die: remove far from me, vanity 
and lies, give me neither poverty nor riches; 
feed me with food convenient for me; lest I 
be full apd deny thee, and say, who is the 
Lord? or lest I be poor, and steal, and take 
the name of my God in vain." — ^The middle 
station is here justly recommended as afford- 
ing the fullest security for virtue; and I may 
also add, that it gives opportunity for the 
most ample exercise of it, and furnishes 
employment for every good qualit}^ which we 
can possibly be possessed of. Tliose who 
are placed among the lower i-anks of men, 
have little opportunity of exerting imy other 
virtue, besides those of patience, resignation. 
Industry and integrity. Those who are ad- 
vanced into tlie liigher stations, have full 
employment for their generosity, humanity, 
affability, and charit)'. When a man lies 
betwixt these two extremes, he can exert the 
former virtues towards his superiours, and 
the latter towards his inferiours. Every 
moral qualit}', which the human soul is -sus- 
ceptible of, may have its turn, and be called 
up to action; and a man may, after this man- 
ner, be much more certain of his progress in 
virtue, than where his good qualities lie dor- 
mant, and without employment. 

But there is another virtue, that seems 
principally to lie among equajs,. and is, for 



that reascm, chie^calculated for the middle 
ftation of life. This virtue is friendship. 
I believe most men of generous tempers are 
apt to envy the great, when they consider 
the large opportunities such persons have of 
doing good to their fellow-creatures, and of 
acquiring the friendship and esteem of men 
of merit. They make no advances in vain, 
and are not obliged to associate with those 
whom they have little kindness for; like peo- 
ple of inferiour stations, who are subject to 
have their proffers of friendship rejected, 
even where they would be most fond of 
placing their affections. But though the 
great have more facility in acquiring friend- 
ships, they cannot be so certain of the sincer- 
ity of them, as men of a lower rank; since 
the favours they bestow may acquire them 
flattery, instead of goodwill and kindness. 
It has been very judiciously remarked that 
we attach ourselves more by the services we 
perform than by those we receive, and that a 
man is in danger of losing his friends by 
obliging them too far. I should, therefore, 
choose to lie in the middle way, and to have 
my commerce with my friend varied both 
by obligations given and received. I have 
too much pride to be willing that all the 
obligations should lie on my side; and should 
be afraid, that, if they all lay on his, he 
would also have too much pride to be entire- 
ly easy under them, or have a perfect com- 
placency in my company. 

We may also remark of the middle station 
of life, that it is more favourable to the acqui- 
ring of wisdom and abilit}', as well as of vir- 
tue, and that a man so situated has a better 
chance for attaining a knowledge both of men 
and things, than those of a more elevated 
station. He enters with more familiarity in- 
to human life, and every thing appears in its 
natural colours before him: he has more lei- 
sure to form observations; and has, besides, 
the motive of ambition to push him on in his 
attainments; being certain that he can never 
rise to any distmction or eminence in the 
world, without his own industry. And here 
I cannot forbear communicating a remark, 
which may appear somewhat extraordinary, 
that it is wisely ordained by Provi- 



VIZ. 



dence, that the middle station should be the 
most favourable to the improving oiu* natu- 
ral abilities, since there is really more capa- 
cit}' requisite to perform the duties of tnat 
station, than is requisite to act in the higher 
spheres of life. There are more natural parts, 
and a stronger genius requisite to make a 
good law}'er or physician, than to make a 
great monarch. For let us take any race or 
succession of kings, where birth alone gives 
a title to the crown; the English kings, for. 
instance, who have not been esteemed the 
most shining in history. From the conquest 
to the accession of his present Majesty, we 
may reckon twenty-eight sovereigns, omit- 
ting those who died minors. Of diese, eight 
are esteemed princes of great capacity, viz. 
the Conqueror, Harry II;, Edward I., Ed- 
ward III., Harry V. and VII., Elizabeth, 
and the late king William. Now, I believe, 
every one wiU s^ow, that in the common run 
of mankind, there are not eight, out of twenty 
eight, who are fitted, by nature, to make a 



figure either on the bench or at the bar. Smce 
Charles VII. ten monarchs have reigned in 
France, omitting Francis II. Five of those 
have been esteemed princes of capacity, viz 
Louis XI., XIL, and XIV., Francis I., and 
Hany IV. In short the governing of man- 
kind well requires a great deal of virtue, jus- 
ticCf and humanity, but not a surprismg capa- 
city. A certain pope whose name I have 
forgot, used to say, Let us divert ourselves^ 
my friends : the world ^cterns itself. There 
are, indeed, some critical times, such as 
those in which Harry IV. lived, that call for 
die utmost vigour ; and a less courage' and 
capacity than what appeared in that great 
monarch, nmsthit^e, sunk imder the weight. 
But such circumstances are rare; and even 
then fortune does at least one half of the 
business. 

Since the common professions, such as law 
or physic?:, require equal, if not superiour 
capacity, to what are exerted in the higher 
spheres of life, itb evident, that the soul 
must be made of a still finer mould, to shine 
in philosophy or poetry, or in any of the 
higher parts of learning. Courage and reso- 
lution are chiefly requisite in a commander; 
justice and humanity in a statesman; but 
genius and capacity in a scholar. Great 
generals and great politicians are found in 
all ages and countries of the world, and fre< 
quendy start up, at once, even amongst the 
greatest barbarians. Sweden was sunk in 
ignorance, when it produced Gustavus Eric- 
son, and Gustavus Adolphus: Muscovy, 
when the Czar appeared: and perhaps Car- 
thage, when it gave birth to Hanibal. But 
England must pass through a long gradation 
of its Spencers, Johnsons, Wallers, Drydens, 
before it arise at an Addison or a Pope. A 
happy talent for the liberal arts and sciences 
is a kind of prodigy among men. Nature 
must afford the richest genius that comes 
from her hands; education and example must 
cultivate it from the earliest infancy; and 
industry must concur to carry it to any de- 
gree of perfection. No man needs be sur- 
prised to'^e Kouli-Kan among the Persians; 
but Homer in so early an age among the 
Greeks is certainly matter of the hi^est 
wonder. 

A tnan cannot shew a genius for war, who 
is not so fortunate as to be trusted with com- 
mand; and it seldom happens in any state or 
kingdom, that several at once are placed in 
diat situation. How many Marlboroughs 
were there in the confederate army, who 
never rose so much as as to the command of 
a regiment? But I am persuaded, there has 
been but one Milton in England within these 
hundred years; because every one may exert 
Hie talents of poetry who is possessed of 
them; and no one could exert them under 
greater disadvantages than that divine poet. 
If no man were allowed to write verses, but 
the person who was before hand named to be 
laureat, could we expect a poet in ten thou- 
sand years ? 

Were we to distinguish the ranks of mf n 
by their genius and capacity, more than by 
their virtue and usefulness to the publicl^ 
great philosophers would certainly dballenge 
die first rank, and must be placed at the top 



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256 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



of mankind. So rare is this ducracter, that 
pevhaps there has not, as jret, been above two 
in the world, who can lay a just claim to it. 
At least, Galileo »ui Newton seem to me so 
far to excel all the rest, that I cannot admit 
any other into the same class with them. 

Great poets may challenge the second 
place; and this species of genius, though Tare, 
is yet much more frequent than the former. 
Of the Greek poets that remain, Homer alone 
seems to merit this character: of the Ro- 
mans, Vii'gil, Horace, and Lucretius: of the 
English, Milton smd Pope: Comeille, Racine, 
Boileau, and Voltdre, of the French : and 
Tassoand Ariosto of the Italians. 

Great orators and historians are, perhaps, 
more rare than great poets; but aS the oppor- 
tunities for exerting the talents requisite for 
eloquence, or acquiring the knowledge re- 
quisite for writing histor}', depend in some 
measure upon fortune, we cannot pronounce 
these productions of genius to be more ex* 
traordinary than the former. 

I should now return from this digression, 
and shew that the middle station of life is more 
favourable to happiness, as well as to virtue 
and wisdom: but as the arguments that prove 
this seem pretty obvious, I shall here forbear 
insisting on them. Hume. 

A remarkable Anagram* 

** ^idest Veritas?'' What is truth? Was 
the question asked by Pilate of our Saviour, 
whea he was arraigned before him. These 
letters being transposed, they give the most 
accurate answer that could be given: thus, 
est vir qui adest; that is, " It is the man, who 
is present;" and who in another place, had 
expressly said, " I am the way and the truth 
and the life." 



SELECTED FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

AN ADDRESS TO THE SWALLOW. 

Hall! sweet messenger of spring, 
^^y sporting on the wing, 
Through the fields and meadows green, 
Little sportive, harmless tiling; 
In my window build thy nest. 
Nothing shall dhturb thy rest: 
Nor thy little callow brood, 
While for them thou seekest food. 
Oh my roof, devoid of fear. 
Twittering, thou shalt charm my ear, 
And enjoy thy summer*s stay. 
Till, to warmer suns away 
Thou shalt wing thy rapid flight. 
On the coast of Africk light, 
,TheTe enjoy a brighter sky, 
. And our nipping frost defy; 
Drifted snow and rattling hail. 
Which the robins here assail: 
I*ovely stranger, half divine. 
Spring and summer still are thine. 

A receipt to Cure the Fever and A^ue. 

^jy^y? ^^ Srains of calts of wormwood, 20 trains of 
Virginia snake root, 1-2 oz. red barks, mix Them to- 
gather m one gill of moUsses-^akc one third of this 
mixiure when the fifisfimt coming, one thiid four 
hours later, ^id one third four hours after tljat^-ttill 
It would be advisable to take a vomit. 

Suivtiiutefor TMe Jker, 
A ch^ afld ^;rceablc substitute fortaHe beer h 
thus m^dr^Boil 1 oz. 9f hop*, X Qz, of po^^d^n! 



ger, and 4 {bs. of treaclttt ifutwo^galloM ofvatcr; vAyen 
at the temperature of new milk, add yetst to lerment 
it in the manner of malt liquor. This beverage is re» 
ported to be wholesome and agreeable, and is not only 
cheaper, but will keep much longer than common 
beer. 



INTELLIGENCE. 

SOMBSTICK. 

OUR SOUTHERN FRONTIER. 

Letters are received from the neighbourhood of Mo- 
bile to the 11th ultimo, from which the following are 
extracts:— 

** All the accounts which have been circulated 
throughout the United States of military operations at 
Mobile, of Spanish reenforcements, and of the arriv- 
als of British fleets in West Florida, have been totally- 
destitute of foundation. Indeed they generally appear 
to have originated at the Natdiez, where they have not 
otdinarily greater opportunities of information con- 
cerning the real state of things at the Mobile and Pen- 
sacola, than they have at Philadelphiat and certainly 
much less than they have at the city of Washington 

" Much dissatisfaction, it b said, has been discover- 
ed in the settlements of West Florida, near the Mis- 
sissippi, at the present prospects opened by the esta- 
blishment of the American government in that quarter: 
but there b not as yet any evidence that a revolt is se- 
riously intended, nor does it appear that it could be 
accompanied with any hope of success, without Euro- 
pean aid, of which there are at present no indications. 
''Governour Claiborne has laid off the country claim- 
ed by the United States into parishes, as far as the 
Bayou Batterie, but has more recently extended the 
parish of Pascagola, forty miles farther to the bay of 
Mobile and Dog river, a few miles below the town of 
Mobile, and has thus included four or five families 
who were not included within the parish when the 
fiayou Bntterie was the limit: but whether any civil 
jurisdiction has actually been exercised East of Pearl 
river we are not informed— The revolutionary party 
on the Pascagola did not appear disposed to submit 
themselves to the empure of law, when a parish judge 
was sent fmrn Orleans to establish it among them: but 
since the heads of the insurrection have left the coun- 
try, it is said that ttanquillity is re-established. 

" There is an American force stationed at the pass 
of Christianne, which is sdnrnt half wav between the 
lake Poncbartrain and the ba^- of Mobile, and which 
promises to afibrd an healthlul and eligible summer 
establishment for a portion of the trobps of the United 
States. 

*' From that place Eastwardly there are none at 
present below the 31st degree: but the 2d regiment of 
infantry, consisting of seven companies, is stationed 
at Fort Stoddart on the Mobile, about six miles above 
the line, but theife are unfortunatdy very few officers 
to command them, as the greater part have been called 
off to attend a court martial at Baton Rouge, on the 
Mississippi, between two and three hutidred miles 
West of Fort Stoddart. 

" The town and fort of Mobile are still occupied by 
the Spaniards: nor is it known whether any c&mand 
has yet been made of them under the authority of the 
government. 

•* Happily, hbwever, the United States, though they 
have it in their power to displace the Spaniaids from 
this favourite position, may without doing this, if they 
deem It more expedient to avoid it, secure to their citi- 
zens every advantage of a free trade on the bay and 
river Mobile. The Spanish authorities enforce no du- 
ties at present: but it may put it out of their power to 
enforce them, to extend, the jurisdiction of the United 
States across the bay Eastarardly as far as the Pcidido, 
and Northwardly to the 31st degree, leavmg to ihe 
Spaniards merely the town of Mobile and a few miles 
round it for their particular accommodation. The Eas- 
tern channel of the Mobile river, the mouth of which 
is on the opposite side of the bay, nine miles from the 
town, is at least as el%ible for navigation as the Wes- 
tern channel, and it would- probably be ^[cnerally prt- 
ferred, did not either business at the town or the ne- 
cessity of reporting to the Spanish officers, compel the 
persons concerned in the trade of that river to ascend 
Ihe Western channel. 

«' A handsome well watoed Muff; not hr fwtn the 
niouth of the Eastern channel on the mun land, has 
often been pointed out as an eligible site for a town, 
whjca at some fumrc day, it ie contended, must eclipse 



the town of Mobde; and a iKiilkary station on that ad- 
vantageous spot, would. It ia. fully believed, by the 
persons acquainted with it, completely command and 
protect the trade of the river and the ctril jwriadiction 
of the country as for at the Perdido." 

A Philadelphia paper motions four ehtkben havii^ 
been bitten by a mad dbg. The oldest of these child- 
ren did not exceed thirteen, and the youngest an in- 
fant of thirteen months. 

yertejf jBank Tax^^lt will be recollected, that4it the 
last sitting of the Legislatm^ an act was passed an- 
tborizing the State Treasurer td bid i^ the bonking 
house, &a. (which had been levied upon and was then 
advertised for sale by the Sheriff of^ Bergen County,) 
to as much as would cover the amount of the tax, with 
interest and cost. Ag^seably to notice the house, &c. 
« iSLf 'y®*^ ^^ **** *^ bought by the Traisvxer at 
9,200 dollars. It is said the buildings alone cost 3<MXX) 
dollars. 

Thomas Adams, Es^ire, of this city is anpoimed 
a Notary Publick. "^ 

rORZIGN. 

By tlie arrival of the schooner Fell's Point, Harr;- 
son, in 29 days from Carthagena. we learn that a 
complete revolution had taken place there oa &\^ 4th 
of February last, by which the Ust vestige of the old 
government was destroyed. The European officen 
who had before m:rintained their influence, were on- 
deigoing their trials when this vessel came away. Tbc 
revolution of Santa Fee had also been completed, aed 
two deputies had left Carthagena for the g^cral eta- 
gress at Santa Fee for the purpose of orgattizinjc tte 
new government of the district. Two members ^f the 
junta and a merchant of great influence had taken 
passage for New-York in the schooner Atttus, whidi 
sailed m company with the Fell's Point, for New. 
York, who are thought to possess instructions to fonu 
Sonne kind of mtercourse with the govemnoent of the 
United States. The press has been declared fr^t to 
discuss every subject except religion. 

A letter from Cayenne, to a gentleman in Iffcw- 
York, dated the 18th of March, states, that the Portu- 
gue^ troops of the garrison, had concerted a pl&n to 
set fire to the town, and massacre the inhabitants, in- 
cluding the officers of the fortj which luckily.was dis- 
covered m time to prevent the perpetration of this in- 
cendiary and murderous act. Several of the ring lead- 
ers were taken up and shot— others had escaped, and 
were secreted in the woods. No business^nia doing 
at the above date, in consequence of the confusion oc- 
casioned by this explosion. 

Sfiendid a«//r.-The Cradle presented to her Im- 
P?"?^^*J*^.^y■ *>y ^^« city of Paris, is made of silver 
gilt inlaid with mother of peari. The interioor Is Im- 
ed with orange coloured velvet. The ctmahis are of 
lace, embroidered with golden bees.^The form of the 
cradle is that of an elongated square, (or paraUelorram) 
a httle rounded at the ends. It is supported!? foci 
Comucopiaes, which cross each other, and iw twolitele 
figmes, one representing Justice and the other Poti-rr 
Upon the sides of the balustrade are two Camtes one 
exhibiting the figure of the nymph of the SwL re- 
ceiving in her arms the child of the Gods, and the oth- 
er the Tiber, who smiles at perceivmg a new atar aria- 
mg for him. Upon the head ^f the cradle is seen the 
figure of Renown, holdinr in her huids the crown 
which governs France. In front is a Uttle earfe, which 
has its eyes fixed upon this emblem, anditma en- 
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THE RURAL VISITER. 



** Homo mm ; humani nihil a me alienum puto.^^ — Man and bis cares tome a man, are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BUKLINGTON, FIFTH MONTH (MAY) 20th, 1811. 



No. 43. 



THE RECORDEB. 
NO. XLII. 

** A. 'Twoold thin the ranks of the poetick tribe 
To dash the pen through all that /ou proscribe. 

B. No matter— we could shift when they were not^ 
And should no doubt if they were all forgot." 
Tablb Talk. 

When a person undertakes to pass cena^ore 
upon any thing, or any pei*son that i» inliigh 
estimation with the publick, it is not to be 
wondered at that he should be suspected of 
envy. To many, he will no doubt appear, 
like the fox in the fable, to dedaim against 
what he cannot attain, merely to hide his 
own mortification: And indeed, in a world 
where there is so much deception, caution 
cannot be blamed, provided it do not dege- 
nerate into that indiscriminate incredulity 
which is apt to attach itself to those, who, 
having been frequently imposed upon, and 
not having sufficient judgment or informa- 
tion to distinguish the false from the true, 
have become the antipodes of their former 
selves; and, having suffered by facility of 
belief, are now determined to believe no- 
thing. But all extremes ai*e to be suspected. 
He who kills his enemy that he may not have 
him to fear, gives no .proof of his courage; 
he who throws away a silver dollar as coun- 
terfeit, evinces no more knowledge of coins 
than he who accepts a counterfeit for good 
metal; he who runs to keep himself tvom 
falling, gives as much room for suspicion 
that he ia too weak to walk, as he who holds 
by a post. That this imbecility of mind 
shoold so often gain a man the reputation of 
not being easily deceived, can be attributed 
toly to die ** dulness of wits and the weak- 
ness of the wise.** 

But, so common is the conviction that 
^K)se who venture to disapprove or repro- 
bate what it is fashionable to admire, will be 
considered as actuated by envy, that nothing 
is more common, than for «uch censc^rs to 
pat themseh^es to mmch unnecessary, and 
often fruitless pains, to convince the world 
that this ia not their motive, and that m those 
things which they censure, diey would never- 
theless show themseh'es equal to the rest of 
the world if they chose to exhibit. Thus, 
those who endeavour to curb the frivolities 
and levities of youth, are careful to inform 
Aem, that they themselves were young; th^ 
they had, in then: time, experienced as fulhr 
as those whom, they address, all the gratifi- 
cations that could result from the fashions, 
the vanities and the pleasures of the world; 
and had found them empty^ Thus also, the 
^^ligious author^ (for somehow or other, tfiis 
^ise, this witty, thb discrhoinating world. 



has made out to associate with the idea of 
religion that of paucity ef m«atal «ndow^ 
ments) the religious author, I say, impressed 
with the general opinion, is at pains indirect- 
ly lo show, that he is as well gifted by 
nature, as weU raid, and as well versed in 
all that is esteemed in the fashionable world, 
as his dissolute antagonist* Now it is by no 
means difficult to conceive, that all this may 
very well be; and where such display of 
quadifications is honesdy intended for the 
benefit of the cause, the displayer may be 
excusable; yet it is very doubtful, whether, 
in a general way, it promotes the cause or 
wounds it: Will the gainsayers of simplicity 
readily believe, that learning and wit are 
very inferiour objects of attention, when they 
see those in the highest repute for wisdom 
and virtue, so tenacious of their title to these 
endowments ? 

I was induced to make the foregoing re- 
marks, as not altogether impertinent as a 
preliminary to what follows: I began with sm 
intention of expressing a belief that works of 
humour and fancy, even where they have 
been innocent in their intentions, and chaste 
in their sentiments, have in general, been 
rather enemies than friends to the promotion 
of practical benevolence in the mliKls of their 
reaiEfers. As I have no hope of being able 
in the course of this essay, to satis^ my 
readers that I am not deficient in a capaci^ 
for appreciating the merit of works of this 
nature, they may perhaps conclude that I 
write through envy; and that I am inimical 
to wit, merely because I am dulL In answer 
to thb, I have only to say, that though I 
have no pretensions to wit myself j I admire 
genuine wit in others, and feel in nowise 
disposed to despoil of a single sprig the 
wreaths of those who possess it* Now this 
is not the language ot envy; for when we 
envy in others what we neither possess, nor 
expect to possess ourselves, we endeavour 
to depreciate it. If however, Ae world will 
not bdieve what I say respecting my motives, , 
I can only lament, that from uie ft^quency 
of counterfeits, the word even of an honest 
man is of so Htde avail. But let it not be 
supposed that theforegoing concessions tend, 
in any degree, to invalidate my primary pro- 
position. Wit, I say, may be a good tiding 
in itself ; yet I sincerely believe, that that 
habitual levity which is the almost tmavoid- 
able consequence of making light books and 
light company our chief companions, is a 
foundation upon which we shall in vain en- 
deavour to raise the labrick of philandnrop}'. 
In this sentiment, I do not confine my views 
to that class of light books, which has, with 
many an amiable but deluded mind so long 
usutped the place of more rational reading, 



if not of even the incumbent duties of life—* 
This class I wish to pass over lightly: I feel 
an aversion to entering upon a subject which 
presents to the recqiling mind of an indolent 
writer, a labyrinth of mischief which it would 
require the fortitude and skill of a Theseus 
to unravel; and without affording the con- 
solatory hope of destroying like him, the 
monster in its centre. Upon the ejects of 
plays and novels in general, the world is in 
possession of the testimony of numerous wri- 
ters, eminendy qualified both by their situa- 
tion in life, and by the solidity of their 
judgments, to decide upon their eflFects. 
These have treated the subject so fully, 
and supported their concurrent opinions by 
arguments and facts so conclusive, that little' 
remains for subsequent writers, but to re- 
mind the world of what it has already heard, 
and forgotten. What effect the labours of 
these wordiies have had, ^^ Let modem man- 
ners show,*' or the keejpers of circulating 
libraries answer. Alas! it is to be feared, 
that of the *^ew" that "hear,*' still "fewer 
heed the strain.** Indeed, it is hardly to be 
expected, that the msinia of novel reading 
when it takes full possession of a weak mind, 
shall yield to any less efficient remedy than 
coersion, or "real pain." The reason is ob- 
vious — ^diey Ratify that universal penchant^ 
curiosity, without the paitiful exertion of 
thinki^. Hence they are eqoaBy intelligible 
to all classes of readers, and if not equally 
entertainmg, it is at least not to the weakest 
minds that they afford least amusement. But 
I find I have insensibly drawn out Ais part 
of my subiect to a greater length than I in- 
tended. I now resign the concern to the 
attention of those females whose minds are 
sufficiently cultivated to relish reading of m 
higher grade, and whose example jmd *pre- 
cept it may reasonably be expected will have 
greater weight with their associates, than 
any thing that can be written upon the sub- 
ject by unknown individuals. jThe motives 
of an mithor are liaUe to various construc- 
tions; but a consistency between opinion and 
conduct is at least a strong proof of the sin- 
cerity of conviction. For my Own part, I 
feel conscious that my testimony on this sub- 
ject may be rendered less operative, from 
the circumstance of my being not altogether 
free from prejudice. I cannot deny that the 
"bbs of education" has had part in producing 
my dislike of novels. When I wio a littte 
hoy^ I remember to have been frequendy 
engaged by Ae nursery maid, in reading to 
her m her chamber while she was busied 
with Ae other children, a fine story book 
which I afterwards discovered to be a love* 
noveL Itoould not escape mv obscr\'ation 
that Ais book was read by stealth; and as 



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1^28 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



there was no other of the same class in the 
family library, I insensibly contracted a mis- 
chievous association of ideas, not very fa- 
vourable to the taste of novel readers. In 
short, the name of novel has ever since n^- 
turalfy introduced die idea of pomatum, 
powder, patches, curlingtongs, and all such, 
other implements and conveniences as might 
easily be conceived to form the appendages 
of the toilette of a belle nursery maid. 
• I now proceed to make such observations 
as my limits will admit, upon that class of 
books which I had more particularly in view in 
this essay — -A class which, as they require in 
the reader a more delicate taste to enable 
him to relish them, and a more improved un- 
derstanding to render them intelligible; ar€ 
perhaps less obnoxious than the former to at- 
tack. It may be somewhat paradoxical to 
suppose, that the cultivation pt the finer parts 
of literature, should have any tendency to 
render the mind insensible to the sufferings 
of our fellow creatures: But the paradox 
will cease when we reflect, that practical 
benevolence consists not in speculative no- 
tions of the headj but necessarily supposes 
a degree of mental energy, a disinterested- 
ness pf mind which is willing to sufifer for 
and with the afflicted; in short a solidity of 
virtue, which can hardly be expected from a 
mind long habituated to breathe with com- 
placency the balmy air of the regions of fan- 
cy.— If we consult the page of history I 
believe we shall find, that with some few ex- 
ceptions, those who have been most indefati- 
gable in their exertions to promote the happi- 
ness of their fellow creatures, and most suc- 
cessfully 80; have been men of plain vmder- 
standings, butof energetick minds; men who 
have cither never had an opportunity of ex- 
ploring the flowery fields of poetry and criti- 
cism, or have wanted the inclination, or been 
deterred by their principles from the pursuit. 
J am aware that in morals, it is almost impos- 
sible to lay down any general principle which 
fihall not be liable to exceptions: perhaps 
there are few which hold good, more exten- 
sively than this: that " self-denial is the root 
of all virtue." In vain shall we look for 
perennial shoots from a^less hardy stock; 
even those virtues of the more amiable kind, 
which might seem to require a degree of soft- 
ness in the mind; will be but as April flow- 
ers, which regale the sense and charm the eye 
for a season, but whiph wither and die be- 
neath the ardent rays of the summer sun. 
Self-denial supposes strength of mind ; a 
power of resisnng the impulses of inclina- 
tion, whe;p their tendency is to carry us 
off from the straight line of duty.^ — Every 
thing therefore which tends to relax the 
vigour of the mind; to render it light and 
fluctuating, must tend in the same degree to 
carry disease to the very root of virtue.— To 
be virtuous, it is not sufficient that the mind 
be impressible; it must also have such a con- 
sistency as will enable it to retain the im- 
pressions. — A mind habitually light wants 
this consistency, and is perhaps in a state less 
favourable to the reception of good impres- 
sions than the hardened mind: the most 
obdurate substances in nature may, bv re- 
peated efforts^ be reduced axMl mouUro into 
new fonns; 



*< Thus artists xndt the sullen ore of lead 
Py heaping coals of fire upon its head.** 

But what can give durable form to the 
evasive fluids of air and water? 

'*'A8 from the wing, no scar the sky retains; 
The parted w*vc no furrow fronn the keel. 
So die** in^ airy minds, the thoughts of good. 

Whether the devotion of the mind to light 
and airy reading has a tendency to produce 
the defect of which I have been speaking, I 
now leave to be answered by the voice of 
experience in the mind of individuals. 

F. 



ATHENIAN LETTERS. 

CLEANDER TO M^GABYZUS. 

I have made it my business, sage lord, to 
inquire into the lives and characters of such 
Athenians, whether living or dead, as are 
most remarkable for the services they have 
done their own country, or the mischiefs 
they have done ours; and send thee some 
commentaries of them enclosed. In peru- 
smg these, thou wilt soon be convinced that 
it was not chance or ill-fortune which the 
Persians are to blame for their defeats: when 
thou shalt learn, and by so many instances be 
convinced of the resolute but cool courage of 
Miltiadcs, the steady inflexible integrity of 
Aristides, the engaging virtues and humane 
deportment of Cimon;(I mention not Thcm- 
istocles, as thou wast no stranger to his abili- 
ties while in the service of our great mon- 
arch;) when thou shalt consider the great 
and elevated soul of Pericles, directing all 
his care and thought, his whole life and for- 
tune, to the ser\^ice of his country; impatient 
indeed of rivals, not because he fears their 
eclijising him, but that, conscious of his own 
sufficiency and upright intentions, he is un- 
filing to have any obstacles to control him 
in his great designs: I say, when thou shalt 
consider all these circumstantes, thou wilt 
be no longer surprised that under such pow- 
erful conductors, so small a state should 
have so long withstood and baffled the re- 
peated attacks of the most formidable em- 
pire in the world. Nay, were it not for the 
coimterpoise that these heroes have in the 
pervcrseness and folly, the fickleness and 
resentment of those with whom they have to 
do, I should not be without apprehension, 
that danger might approach even the throne 
of Cyrus. May the Greeks continue to fight 
our batdes by their unseasonable dissensions; 
and while they have their Cleons and their 
Tolmideses, the designs of even a Pericles 
must ever prove as abortive as they lately 
did, when he convened all the states of 
Greece, and employed the utmost power of 
his eloquence, to engage them in a league 
ag^nst the great king, but to no purpose, 
liut here I pause, and my soul even shud- 
ders, while I recite to thee a particular con- 
cerning Themistocles, little known, and 
therefore not inserted among the relations 
which I send thee. It seems, that shordy 
after obtaining that fatal victory over the 
Persians (when &e presence of Xerxes added 



to his disgrace) in conjunction with, and by 
the assistance of die confederated fleet of 
all their allies, he made a proposal to Aris- 
tides, (who was commissioned by the city to 
receive and judge of it privately) to fidl on 
and destroy that very fleet, in order to ren- 
der Athens absolute at sea. Aristides re- 
ported, that nothing indeed could be more 
advantageous to, or more promote the power 
of the commonwealdi, than Themistocles' 
proposal; but withal^ that it wotdd be the 
most unjust thing in the world to execute it- 
On this it was dropped, and Themistocles' 
friends say, that it was a high love and regard 
for his country, which alone put him on a 
design, which his soul otherwise would have 
abhorred. But can a love of one*? country, or 
any other consideration, excuse such hor- 
rible perfidy? No, potent satrap, we are ©o 
longer men, when we shake off" die common 
principles of humaniQr; such desperate de- 
signs speak a mind not to be controlled hv 
any faith or by any ties; and he who could 
basely think of sacrificing his friends and 
allies to his country, would not scruple to 
sacrifice even that country to his own in- 
terest or resentments. Adieu. 
From Athens. 



SELECTED POE THE RURAL VUITEA. 

The following little poem from the pen of Anacreon 
Moore, exhibits him in rather a novel point of view. ' 
He can clothe virtuous sentiments with the same 
enchanting graces, and adorn thena with at nuch of 
the " softened charms," as those subjecu to whic^ 
he has principally devoted his poetick powers. 

TO THE FLYING FISH. 
When I have seen thy snowy wing 
O'er the blue wave at evening springf 
And give those scales, of silver white» 
So gaily to the eye of light, 
As if thy frame were formtid to rise, 
And live amid the glorious skiest 
Oh! it has made me proudly fed, 
How like thy wing's mipatient zeal 
Is the pure soul, that scorns to rest 
Upon the worid*s ignoble breast, 
' But takes the plume, that God has given 
And rises into light and heaven! 
But when 1 see that wing, so bright 
Grow languid with a moment's flight. 
Attempt the paths of air, in vatn. 
And sink into the waves again; 
Alas the flattering pride is o'er— 
Like thee, awhile, the soul xnay soar. 
But erring man must blush to thitik. 
Like thee, again, the soul may sink! 
Oh virtue! when thy clime I seek. 
Let not my spirit's flight be weak: 
Let me not, like this feeble thing, 
With brine still dropping from its wing, - 
Just sparide in the solar glow, 
And plunge again to depths below; 
But when I leave the grosser throng 
With whom my sou) has dw^lt to kmg. 
Let me, in that aspiring day. 
Cast every lingering stain away. 
And, panting for thy p«rer air. 
Fly np at once and fix roe thert. 



An Imitation ofOssian^ by E&ztAeth Smith; 
extracted from her ^*' Life ai^Fn^mehtsJ^ 

** It is the voice of woe/ I cried^ as our 
bark was tossing on the foaming wave; ' it b 
the voice of woe, O Finan; I hew it at times 
in the blast; it shrieks from yonder rock. 
Now the storm is somewhat abated, let us 



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THE RURATX^ISITER. 



229 



take our oars, and try to reach the shore. 
Perhaps there is some one, more wretched 
than we, to whom we may bring comfort; 
^nd will not that be comfort to ourselves, 
son of Derogr* ' We can bring no comfort 
there, O Luno,' answered Finan, ^ 'tis the 
land of departed spirits. I see the dim forms 
of our fathers, sailing in their grey robes of 
mist across the mountains. They beckon us 
to approach, they shriek our welcome, for 
full well they know the ocean soon will bear 
us to that land of darkness; we shall never 
more behold our lov'd, our lonely Kilda. 
Our wives look out from the rocks, the fair 
Malvina, and the raven-hairM Edilda; they 
think they see a distant saiU joy sparkles in 
their eyes; it was but a passing cloud. They 
look silent and mournful on each other, they 
slowly return to their children. O Luno, let 
us not rashly urge our fate; it is rapture to 
think yet a moment on Kilda.^ * Does Finan 
fear to dkV I said; * Finan the bravest a- 
mong heroes; he who was first to climb the 
rock, and seek the sea-fowl*s nest; he who 
was foremost in the fight; does he weep and 
tremble, when summoned to the hall of his 
fathers? When the valiant Dcrog advances 
to welcome his champion, shall he meet the 
grovelling soul of a little man?* Finan spoke 
not, he raised his oar; I topk up mine, we 
rowed till we reached the shore. The voice 
of mourning had ceased: there was no sound 
from the cave of the rock. We wandered 
on the beach to seek the habitations of men. 
In the cave of the rock sate a woman, beau- 
tiful as the dawn of the morning to the be- 
nighted traveller, but her form was wasted 
with sorrow; she was like the young rose of 
the mountain which the deer has torn up by 
4he roots; it is still lovely, but its strength has 
failed. Her head was leaning on her hand, 
she saw not our approach. On her knees lay 
a young child, at her feet a youth like the 
sons of heroes. We gazed a moment in 
silencej at length I spak«. * Daughter of 
sorrow^ tell thy grief; we too have known 
misfortune, and learnt to pity the distressed.' 
She raised her head, she gazed with wild 
surprise. * Scwas of the Ocean,' she replied, 
*I have no sorrow now* My child is dead, 
and I shall follow him. Ere the dar)c dews 
of evening fall, I shall meet thee, my child, 
in the airy haUof my fathers.' Her head 
tysaik again on her hand in silence. *Yet, tell 
ns, lovely mourner,* I said, * tell us what 
land is this? for we come from i^r^ tossed by 
die tempest from the lonely Kilda.' *Stran- 

girs,' she replied, * have ye never heard of 
ona? Bona, whose fame spread wide as the 
light of day. Her sons were generous and 
brave, her fields were fruitful m com, her 
hills were covered with sheep. Then was 
the stranger welcome to the feast. Five 
families dwelt on our plains : their chief was 
my father, the valiant Conhac, whose pre- 
sence was fike sun-shine to his guests. Oft 
have I heard the voice of Joy resound in his 
haH, and seen the beam of gratitude in the 
eye of the shipwrecked mariner. But now 
famine has wasted our island, and there is 
nothing left to give the weary traveller.' 
* Surely,' I cried, * the hand of the liberal 
should ever be filled with plenty, happiness 



should dwell in his habitation, and his chil- 
dren should never taste of sorrow: Or if 
the tear hang on his cheek for a moment, 
tlie hand of pity should be near to wipe it 
away, and to restore the smile of gladness, 
llien why is the daughter of Cormac left 
desolate? Why does the child of the gene- 
rous suffer want?* ^Because she chose riches 
rather than virtue,' replied the lovely mour- 
ner, *yet has she not been unpitied ; but that 
pity, like yon coloured bow which makes 
the dark cloud seem still darker, made her 
folly more apparent, and tore her heart with 
anguish. Oh! son of other lands, I will tell 
thee my sad tale, though the remembrance 
be painful to my soul. ^ Then wilt thou see 
that the daughter of Cormac has not suffered 
unjustly. Two youths sought the hand of 
Evirallin, only daughter of the generous Cor- 
mac. Dermod was rich, for his house v/as 
well stored with com, three cows gave him 
their milk, and twenty sheep grazed for him 
on the mountain. The store of Mordred 
was small, yet was he richer than Dermod, 
for he had a noble soul. But I chose Der- 
mod with his flocks and herds; for I said, 
the wife of Dermod never can know want; 
pleasure will always attend her call, she has 
only to wish, and be satisfied. 'Twas when 
the eve was lengthened out almost to meet 
the dawn, and the sun set far to the north, 
that I became the spouse of Dermod. The 

soul of Mordred was sad. The crop 

which then looked green, was blasted ere 
the harvest; it gave us not three months'food. 
In the spring the sea-weed failed on the 
coast, the cattle died of hunger. Then was 
Dermod equalled with the poorest. Our 
neighbours died around us. We divided the 
last scanty meal; then wandered different 
ways to seek for herbs and roots, or rather, 
not to see each other die. As I mused on 
the top of a rock Mordred came up with a 
little cake. *Eat,* he cried, *Evirallin; pre- 
serve thy life and that of thy child. While 
yet there was com, I was sparing; I have still 
enough for many days. Perhaps ere that is 
gone, some friendly bark may bring us aid.' 
The tear of gratitude was on my cheek, but 
I could not thank the generous Mordred. 
Scarce had I tasted the food, when Dermod 
came with haste; he tore the cake from my 
hand, ere I could give himlialf, and eagerly 
devoured it. Mordred, seized with rage, 
struck him to the ground, and he fell head- 
long from the rock; the dark wave received 
him^ and he rose no more. We both stood 
speechless for a moment, then Mordred 
rushed forward to follow him, but I seized 
his arm. *0 Mordred!' I cried^ * leave me 
not desolate. There is none left alive but 
thee, and me, and this little babe. We all 
shall perish soon, but let not me be the last. 
Leave me not like the wounded seamew, 
Vihom her companions have abandoned, to 
sit complaining on the desert rock !* — ^The 
heart oi Mordred was moved; he walked 
slow and sdeht away. Each day did he bring 
me a litde cake. — When I begged him to 
eat, he would not; he said, ^I have eaten be- 
fore.' This day he came before the ac- 
cmtomed time, he brought this litde cake. 
^Take it/ he cried, ^EyiraUin, it i9 the 1^; 



I came sooner than usual, for I felt that I 
could not live. I have never tasted food since 
the day that I killed Dermod.' He sunk 
down at my feet. In vain I tried to restore 
him; the noble spirit fled. Then did I pour 
out my grief; I mourned my own hard fate, 
and I gave his praise to the winds. The son 
of the rock repeated it, there was none else 
to hear. But I remembered my child, which 
lay on the matted seaweed. I returned— at 
was dead! Then were my cares at an end; I 
sat down to wait for death, which will, ere 
long, relieve me. Yet, stranger, ere I go, 
receive this litde cake; 'tis all the wretched 
Evirallin has to give. I could not eat it; 
'twere like eating the flesh of Moixlred !'— 
She ceased ; she was faint ; two hours I 
supported her head. Finan wept over Mor- 
dred. At length I felt her hand; it was cold 
and lifeless. We made a grave beneath the 
hanging rock. We laid tlie fair £\drallin in 
the narrow house, and Mordred and the 
child beside her. We reared these grey 
stones at their heads, to mark the spot to 
future wanderers of the ocean. The last ray 
of the setting sun look'd on the new made 
grave" 



f" 



POK THE BUBAL VI8ITEK. « 

Rcfiections on two great sources of human 
pleasure^ Hope and Memory. 

To scenes of youthful sports, when memVy «H:a7f> 

Retouch 'd by fancy's pencil, ev'ry joy 
Brightens afresh, as if with magkk rays. 

Whose tints, nor linoe, nor sorrow can destroj. 

But more attractive, doth the piclore glow, 
Which fancy paints with colours not her own; 

When from within, we hear a whispering low« 
The prospect is not fanciful alone. 

When sense of duty is the picture's ground^ 
And moral conduct beautifies the scene, 

When revelation's light is thrown around, 

And o'er the whole, faith breathes a calm serene; 

*Tis then that fancy pictures joys in store, 
With tints suppliea by hope that never fade, 

That in enjoyment last forever roorei 

And outstrips mera*ry, c*en with fancy's aid. 

Though pleasures past may steal the thoughts away> 

The mind awhile may dream them o*er again. 
The visions which the memory portray. 

Serve to beguile, but can*t remove » p^* 
But ask the good roan by disease worn down, 

Whose mind if tendered by afli^ion^s rod, 
What bears thee up against misfortune's frown?-v-*- 

He feels and answers, Hope,— the gift of God. 

'TIS Hope that bears vs im in ev'r^ stage 
Of life, and animates the drooping mind; 

That outstrips noem'ry's flight, and can presage 
More joys to come, than e'er wc left behind. 

The pronais'd bliss deserves more anxious thought, 
Than all the worid and its alluring charms; 

These— may by fortune's favourites be bought; 
That— e'en misfortune of its sting disihrms. 

Nor deem thou temp'ral sorrow, Heaven's decree 

Irrevocable of thy final doom, 
Heirs of Heaven's promise may afflicted be. 

To ^ than for the joys beyond the tomb. 
If wealth or fame could happiness con£n-. 

More wrong the world would practise fbr the prizf; 
The emptiness of these can^t now deter 

From means unworthy, e'en the worldly wise. 

Heav'n as a favour, has made this depend 

On what's within each man's ability^ 
The rich and poor alike, may all pretend 

To j ustice, mercy and hnna^ity . 

" Hope humbly then"— and if on roem'ry'f wingv 
Thou wouldbt overtake the fleecUig hours long past^ 

Instruction let thy contemplation brlngt 
T^impiTivey support ai^cheer thee in thy last. 



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f OK THE KVCAL VISITXIt. 

POOR PILGRIM. 



No. vn. 



TO S- 



Detr is homilitj in noble $ ouls,— 

Meekness is lovely which is fixt in right;— 

Lowly on earthy among the sons of men 

Is the changed heart which dwells aloft in heaven. 

Chaste as the dove» its love continues true; 

And the washed soul white as the virgin snow, 

l.ookt innocent as sheep new washen in. the stream, 

"WUh beauteous fleeces for the shepherd's use. 

White as the lily— its perfumes impart 

Delightful transports, sweeter than all flowerfi— > 

Than all the spices on Arabia^ coast. 

1 love the heart, which Ceels just sentinnents, 

Which glows with energy in virtue's cause, 

Despising vain desires, and human fame, 

And fashion's gaudy fascinating show, 

Modes ever varying, vicious tastes to please. 

To pleaise camsdity the foe of God. 

I love the heart, that crucifies self-love, 

By self^-denial, to exalt the love 

Of him who loved and died to redeem 

From all iniquity, our fallen race. 

1 love the heart, whose pious dignity, 

Supports it in all states, above the wotld. 

Its thrones, emoluments, refin*d philosophy, 

Erroneous customs, laws, and sentiments. 

Whenever they, opposed to truth divine, 

^)ppress, contemn, and mturder truth in saints. 

Since her dear soul, made innocent and ptKC, * 

Is full of thanks divine, and inward prayer, 

^he IS too kind, not to relieve the pained. 

Too full of love, not to delight her friends, 

Too pious, not to raise the pure desire, 

The hope and joy of everlasting life. 

She never is afironied; oft she sighs 

In sorrow for poor souls; but never (rets. 

And oft sheds tears in ecstacies of joy 

Fill'd by the comforter within her soul. 

Pure as the new fall'n snow, her breast repels 

The blush that rises not from sense of guilt; 

And waits fit seasons to correct, improve. 

Beseech, or reprimand with power divine; 

Lest sh^ might harden when she would amend; 

And make an enemy not gain a friend* 

She that possesses such a heart as this 

Has $haron's rose, the lily of the vale. 

And the eternal Beauty, so beloved. 

By saints and Soloman in ancient days. 



SBUU^TXD FOU THE RURAL VISITER. 

In the absence of better matter the Editor will pleu^ 
insert the within, and oblige a 

^ SUBSCRIBER. 

The IVtfe^s consolation to her husband undfr 
Affi'ictioru 

2To more lovM partner of my soul, 

At disappointment grieve; 
Can flowing tears our fate control, 

Or sighs our woes relieve? 

Adversity is virtue's school, 

To those who right discern; 
Let ns observe each Mdnful rule. 

And each hard Ifsson learn. 

When wint'ry clouds obscure the sky, 

And heaven the earth deform, 
If fix*d the strong foundations lie, 

The castle tmives the storm. 

Thus fix*d on faith^ unfailing rock» 

Let us endure awhile, 
Misfortune's mdft inkpetuous ihockj 

And glory m our toil. 

HI fortune cannot always last. 

Or, though U should remain, 
Tet we each painful moment haste, 

A better world to gain; 

Where calumny no more shall wound. 

Nor fauthleas friends destroy; 
yrhert innocence situl truth are crvnA'di 

WiU^QtvtifaAiiJ^. 



CULTURE OF POTATOES. 

A member of the Agricultural Society of Greenock 
made the following experiment:— «* Thc^first year,'* he 
says, ^< I cut the potatoes in three pieces, the top, the 
middl^, and the bottom parts, and planted these in 
three rows. The top plant was ten days earlier than 
the middle plant, and a much greater crop; the middle 
plant was earlier than the bottom, and a better crop; 
the bottom- produced but a very indiierent crop« For 
some seasons past I have only set the top eyes, and I 
believe have the best crop and driest potatoes in the 
country, nor do I think there is any waste in doing so; 
for I find the potatoe keeps the better by having a cut 
taken off it." 

Parpouticr, a celebrated French chemist, has disco- 
vered a new species of utility, besides its nutritive pow- 
ers, in the potatoe; and his discovery ha^ been proved 
in England by stucco-plasterers. From the starch of 
potatoes, quite fresh, and washed but once, a fine size, 
by mixture with chalk, has been made, atid in a varie* 
ty of instances successfully used, particularly for ceil* 
ings. This species of size has no smell; while animal 
size, putrifyingso readily, uniformly exhales a most 
disagi«eable and unwholesome odour; the size of po- 
tatoes, beinp very little subject to putrefaaion, appears 
from experience to prove more durable in tenacity and 
whiteness, and, for white- washing, should always be 
preferred to animal size, the decomposition of whicl^ 
always exhibits proofs of infections effluvia. 

According to a stvf curious calculation, it has been 
ascertained, that an acre of land planted with pota- 
toes will produce sufficient food for 16,875 healthy 
men for one meal; while an acre of wheat will not 
feed more than 2,745. The expense of cultivating the 
potatoes is estinu^ted at 121. Is. and that of the wheat 
at 111. 15s. 

In the year 1806, there were grown on tnoss land, 
at Castle Head, never before cultivated, carrots, which 
in one square yard (tried in several parts of the field) 
weighed 471bs. Half an acre produced, on the average, 
9 tons, 4 cwt. 2 qrs. 161bs. carrots, which, at 4s. per 
cwt. would amount to 361. 18s, 6d. The quantity of 
potatoes growing on four statute acres of the same 
field was 690 bushels. The rows were four feet Mun- 
der. 



TO COREESPOKDXNTS. 

Lecutrtr, and one or two other essays, have, entirely 
throhgh mistake been omitted this week. 

We have indeed found that ** young Chloe changes 
like an April day;^* for soon after our acquaintance, 
she changed from vihite to black. 



INTELLIGENCE. 



DOlfBSTJCK. 



Mr, Randolph, of Virginia, has gained his Section, 
as a member of Congress by a majority of 385 against 
Mr. Eppes. 

On the 17th tihiraoi we are informed, that General 
Moreau appeared in the Circuit Court of the United 
States, now sitting for the Pennsylvania District, and 
declared his intention to become a citizen of the IJnit. 
ed States, agreeably to the act of congress on that sub- 
ject, and complied with the. forms required for that 
purpose. 

We have collected the following Returns of the Cen- 
sus of the United States, for 1810, as published ^m 
the documents furnished in the pnblick papers by the 
- Marshals of the several States and Territories. It 
will be seen that the l^t is incomplete. It, how- 
ever, will furnish an idea of the actual population of 
the country, as the official returns will not be made 
known until the next meeting of Congress. By this 
we may coiyecture the number of Members whkh 
, irill constitute the next Congress after a new appor- 
, tionment according to the different r^tjot spoken of in 
the debates during last session. We have also sub* 
joined the popubitton at it was ascertained by the cen^ 
sus of 1800, 1^ which the increase in the last ten years 
is brought faiily into view.— — .0a/^^ofv JmericaiL 

1800— 1$10— Inereaee. 

Kew-Hampthiri, 183.858 S14,4U 30,556 

Vermont, 154,449 !217,915 63.465 

Massachusetts, 432,845 471,640 48,795 

Maine, 151,719 S28,705 76.986 

Connecticut, 251,002 261,942 10,940 

Rhode Islandi 69,122 76,931 7,809 * 

i H<wY«k, 9m,(M 9<d>41S $77^365 



New Jersey, 211,149 245,562 34,413 

Pennsylvania, 602.545 810,163 207.618 

Delaware, , 64,000 72,674 8,674 

Maryland, 349.692 380,546 30.854 

North CaroUna, 498.000 583.528 85,523 

Geoi^gia, 162,686 252,433 89,747 

Tenne«$ee, 105,602 361,727 156,125 

Ohio, 42,179 230348 188,669 

Kentucky, 220,955 406,536 185,571 

Illinois. 12.600 

Upper Louisiana, 20,846 

Orieans, 24^54 
Virginia, free inha- 
bitants and slaves, 880,192 
South Carolina, 345,571 
Indiana, 4,875 
Dis. of Colombia, 14,093 
Mississippi territory, 8,850 
The population of the United States 
in 1790 was 3,929.326 
in 1800 5,305,666 
in 1810 



Arrived on the 6th instant, the Horizon, Crnntniogs, 
from Lisbon. Left there March 27th. Two days be- 
fore he sailed, news was received firom the interioor, 
that there had been several skirmishes between the 
French and combined army, in which the foraocr lost 
two generals and 20.000 men, viz. 15,000 killed, afld 
5000 prisoners, together with 20pieces of cannon-— afttr 
which the French retreated, and had entirely evacuar 
ted Portugal, but not without destroying every thing 
they fell in with in their retreat-»they were flying' with 
nothing but their guns and what their knapsacks con- 
tained. All their baggage and artillery had fallen int© 
the hands of the combined army. The pttmoce of 
Estremadura, through which the French had paused, 
had been completely devastated by fire and pHlage. 

Capt. Pease, of the brig Mentor, in 21 days from 
Guyana, informs us, that that part of South America 
was in a convulsed state, and that an insurgent army 
was^ encamped on the opposite bank of the Oronoke, 
awaiting aid from Carraccas, In order to attack the 
city. The government party were fortifying the city, 
and making every preparation to repel the assailants. 
After captain P. had anchored down the river be beanl 
that the army had cros^d the river, and cmmenced 
the attack. 

D1£D— on Tuesday, after a short illness, ia the 
24th year of his age, Charlks Logan Smith, 

Thus runs Death^s dread conmiissiom: 

'* Strike, but so 
As most alarms the living by the dead.** 

SADDLERS LOOK H£fi£ ! I 

One hundred and tweaty bnsbda of fint fMfity- 
DEER'S HAIR, 

For sale by A. F. LlfFBERRT. 

JBuHmgton, May 14, 1811* 



PUBLICK NOTICE, 

Is hereby given to the Members of the Burlington 
Library Company, that the following K^ is aa ex- 
tract from the By-Laws of the Company, bong the 
ninth rule: and will be atrictly enforced afMnst aB «k- 
linquents after this date. ** AU the membeia ia thia 
city shall be entitled to take cm any single book for 
the space of four weeks, and those who do not Kve in 
the city, shall be allowed to ke^ any single book tix 
weeks; Or the members may have the liberty o£ taktag 
all the volumes of one work, or two single books at 
once, returning one of them, or the volumes in order, 
one each week, and the whole in the time linuted for 
keeping: a single bookj and in defaalt ol returning the 
books, or each, or any of them in. the time appointed, 
the members shall be subject to h fine of one diiUing 
per week for each book so detained*** 

By onder of the DiractOft, 
Z. HOLMfiS, Secretarj. 

Boriington, 5mo. Uth, 1811. ^. 

Published Weekly^ by /X Allinson^ fcf Co. 

CI TV OF BURLINOTON, H. J. 

Price two Dollars sixty ^t wo Cents for Vohimt fifft, 
payable semi-aanaany in advance. 



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** Homo sum ; humani nihil a me aHenum puto^'*'^Man and his tares tome a won, are dear* 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, FIFTH MONTH (MAY) snh, 1811. 



No. 44* 



THE RECORDER. 

NO. XLHI. 

Adenil fMtmis, etiam oi^ artes defiuBsent. 

Tacivos. 

There are perhaps few qualities that are 
inore distinguishing charactcristicks of hu- 
man nature, than a blindness to our own 
faults; a constant endeavour to conceal them 
even from our own view. Wherever man 
may be placed^ this fundamental principle 
of our race manifests its domineering influ- 
ence over his mind. View the savage amid 
all the terrible JeprivHtions to which he is 
subject, all the dangers and difficulties by 
which he may be encompassed, and blind to 
the imperfections of bis situation, indifferent 
to the higher enjoyments of his neighbours, 
he is adverse to any change. He prefers the 
disadvantages to which he has been accus- 
tomed and inured from his infancy, and will 
remain among them rather than '••fly to others 
that he knows not of.** From the same prin- 
ciple it is, thit we find men adhere more 
pertinaciously to an opinion whicli ihey know 
to be defective, and which their reasons hjiVQ 
been compelled to abjure— and relinquish it 
with more difficulty, than wh.n they feel sat- 
isfied that they are correct. Our reasons 
may be convinced contrary to our inclina- 
tions, but to express this conviction is within 
our own volition. 

Perhaps in no case is this univers<J prin- 
ciple more obviously manifested, than in 
attributing all our successes to our own pru- 
dence and good management; .ill our misfor- 
tunes and disagreeable accidents to bad for- 
tune. This daily occurs; and although habit 
has rendered it so usual that it frequently 
escapes our observation, yet the institution 
of the custom can have derived its primary 
origin only from this principle firmly rooted 
in our natures. Question doselv those who 
most frequently invoke or revile their for- 
tune,^ as to their real meaning, Mid they will 
acknowledge that if it has any meaning to 
curse their bad fortune, it must be impious. 
They know and believe thatthere is a Deity 
who superintends, and produces all the e- 
vents ot this world, and that their casualties 
and misfintones which they so bitterly la- 
ment, and lay to the account of chance and 
fortuity, are occasioned by an act of his will: 
And that most frequently what they are la- 
menting, may be proved to have originated 
from their own act. How then is it, that 
men are so prone to exclsum against what 
they term fortune, for its peculiar severity to 
them? It is because they are slow to believe 
tb«t ^y nt not faultle'ss. 



That most of the occurrences, the blame 
of which we lay upon an imaginary being of 
our own creation, should properly be attri- 
buted to our own carelessness and inability, 
can scarcely admit of a doubt. But we find 
it more easy and more agreeable to believe 
that we are mere passive instruments, sub- 
ject to an authority which we have not 
strength nor power to resist. It is an irk- 
some and laborious task to revert to the for- 
mer actions of our lives, and to search for 
the act which would only be remarkable by 
the consequences which it drew upon our 
heads. The constant idea that we are now 
suffering the effects occasioned by it, and 
writhing underthe ills wliich have ensucd,are 
far from tending to relieve the difficulty, or 
soften the disagrceablcness of the task. But 
tiun to the situation of a friend or neighbour, 
and we appear to be rather more eagle-eyed; 
rather more quick to hunt out the slip, the in- 
advc) tent act which proved the source of all 
his misfortunes. When he is over\vhelmed 
with misery, when his fortune and his fame 
arc lost and involved in ruin, fortune is for- 
gotten, and we eagerly exclaim with Juvenal, 

<* NulhuQ numen abest si sit prudentia." 
" Fortune is never worshipped by the wise. 
But she by fools set up usurps the skies.'* 

There is no kind person who will bear the 
load of his misfortunes. He is sunk ia mis- 
fortune, and we instead of soothing his dis- 
tresses, aggravate them by informing him that 
he has too reason to complain, far that he is 
the sole cause of them^ alL This only occurs 
in adverse circumstances; for if the gales of 
prosperity assist his enterprises, if success 
attend his undertakings, his fortune is good, 
he is a lucky man. 

It is sometimes the case, that those men 
who are eminently qualified by their vigour 
of mind, by their uncommon endowments, 
for bearing the most important and elevated 
stations in society, are doomed to wear out 
their lives in the humblest situations of life. 
Oppressed with penury, broken by disap- 
pointment, or weighed down by the humility 
of their circumstances^ 



** Hands that the rod of emprre mig^ht have swayed. 
Or waked to testacy the living lyte/' 

remain forever unnoticed and unknown. 
When we consider the various operative cir^- 
cumstances, whose combination is required 
to elicit the ftdl strength and vigour of ge- 
nins, and ens^ire to it suT:cess, we cannot but 
be forcibly reminded of the lines of Gray: 

** Full many a flower is born to blush rni&een. 
And waste its sweetness on tke desert air." 

But the whole picture of human life must 



can positively assert that these men have 
sustained any serious misfortune. We must 
recollect, that although had the talents of 
these men been awakened from their dormant 
state, had circumstances called them to act 
distinguished parts on the busy stage of life, 
their labours and faculties might have tend- 
ed to improve and benefit mankind; yet the 
records of past times and the events of his- 
tory do not authorize us to draw the conclu- 
sion, that this alteration would have equally 
dperated to augment their private store of 
happiness. If genius and learning have their 
: peculiar pleasures, they are also attended 
with their peculiar pains; And I think it has 
rarely occurred, that those men who have 
been most exalted on the scale of intellectual 
being, have possessed an equal elevation on 
the scale of actual happiness* The poverty 
and misery of poets and philosophers are 
proverbial. 

The truth is, we have each of us our par- 
ticular standard, whereby we measure the 
felicity or unhappmess of other men. What- 
ever we ouridves would account favourable^ 
we fancy must seem so to others. But hap- 
pily for all, the tastes and dispositions of 
men are as variable as their circumstances; 
we hare each the faculty of extracting plea- 
sure from what to others' tastes appears a 
bitter foundation. Th^ very disagreeable 
circumstances of our state become more tole- 
rable as we are more habituated to them, 
and not unfrequemly we learn to love them. 
Our minds are so susceptible and plastick, 
that they accommodate themselves to the 
situations in which we are placed, and lose 
their pliability when ithashecome comforta- 
ble and pleasant. All these considerations 
tend to evince that there is a Providence 
who rules us, and who sees with other eyes 
than we. And reflection will induce us to 
believe that the opinion of the old philoso- 
pher, who asserted that were all mankind to 
throw their individual miseries into a he^ 
for adisthbutioD, each would prefer taking up 
|||is own again, to an equal division of the 
whole-^is not quite so paradoxical as it ap- 
pears at first view. U then these men are 
not unfortunate, if their happiness would not 
be augmented by a change of circumstances^ 
may not the same mode of viewing the sub- 
ject bring the sanie conclusion, wl^en applied 
to any individual? Shakespeare says, *^There 
is some soul of goodness in things evil, would 
men observingly distil it out." 

It may be laid down as a maxim sanction* 
ed by numerous instances, that the man who 
is dissatisfied with his situation, vmless under 
the influence of some particular misfortunes^ 



and shades l>e minutely examined^ befinre we 



be thoroughly contemplated, its various lights would expericuce the same sensation mevery 



Other fitate. Give bioi )u8 ¥tai9it wished 



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233 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



conform to the mostTXtravagant requisitions 
of his desires, let him, possess every thing 
which his imagination can suggest or his 
fancy invent, and when the charm of novehy 
is passed, he will be cloyed with fruition. 
Let no man then complain of the peculiar 
severity of his fortune. If unavoidable mis- 
fortunes, ^)rigi0ating in sources beyond our 
regulation and control, do arise as they 
sometimes will; the frequency of these casu- 
alties, the liability we all have to experience 
them, take away all right to complain of our 
being singularly unfortunate. If we are in- 
commoded with troubles which are confined 
to ourselves, we possess also peculiar enjoy- 
ments, and ,every individual of mankind id 
in a similar predicament. If our misfortunes 
are the inevitable, and natural consequences 
of our carelessness' or inadvertence, seek for 
the source, and endeavour to effect a radical, 
an effectual cure; but blame not fortune: We 
alone deserve the blame, and we bear the 
consequences. Nor let others be treated 
with less lenity; let us not apply to them the 
words prefixed to this essay, fortune was 
favourable though merits were wanting. 
Think, and allow that there are some men 
who possess common sense, and abilities to 
manage the ordinary affairs of life beside 
ourselves; and do not detract from their just 
deserts, by attributmg their success to a 
foreign auxiliary. 

U. 



CASPIPINA'S LETTERS. 

TO CHARLES MARSEILLES, Esq. 
AT NEW YORK. 

2>£AiL (Charles, 

I have the pleasure to inform you, that we 
are likely to be made happy ver\' soon with 
the company of our agreeable friend,Captain 
L— . A copy of a letter which I have 
just received from him, conceived and ex- 
pressed in his own sweet and gentle turn -of 
sentiment and language, I cannot forbear 
communicating to you. The original I pre- 
sence among many others, with which he 
has been so kind as to favour me, since we 
parted. 'Tis dated from Tusculum^ as he 
calls it, alitde elegant recess which his father 
has lately given him on the banks of Hum- 
bert a few miles above Hull, He writes as 
follows: 

*' I am just returned from an excursion to 
Oxford', where I ran over in imagination 



with our worthy fellow-students of Magdalen 
Hall: Every field, every grove, every tree, 
that surrounds these sweet retreats of sci- 
ence, reminded me of some morning or 
evening walk, some pleasing and improving 
conversation, in which I had borne my part. 
I almost wished to occupy once more, for a 
season, the chamber in which I have so of- 
ten been blessed with the society of such 
agreeable friends. But believe me, 'twas 
only for a season, that I formed such a wish. 
For my happiness at present infinitely ex- 
ceeds ^ that I have heretofore experienced, 
even when P ■ ■ and M — ^ and you my 
much-loved C— ^— , conspired to make me 



think my blids complete. Twelve cheerful ' 
moons have now rolled i*otmd this globe, since 
Aspasia was my own. An uninterrupted 
succession of calm domestick joys has 
crowned my ardent expectations. Every vir- 
tue that the female mind can boast, is happily 
centered in my fair companion. Blest be- 
yond my most, sanguine hopes at home, I 
roam not now for happiness abroad. 
The leisure which peace bestows upon the 
weary soldier, I have wholly devoted to her 
sweet and soothing converse. — Happy, in- 
deed, if this leisure could have continued 
still — But alas! the call of honour must si- 
lence for a while the voice of love. 

" A few days since, I received orders 
from General G , to repair without de- 
lay to my regiment at Boston. — No ship of- 
fering Immediately for that port, I have de- 
sired a friend in London^ to secure me a 
passage in the first that sails for Philadelphia 
or New Tork — so that in a few days all my 
present softening prospects must be changed 
for the rude horrours of the boisterous At- 
lantick— — Tell Charles, he may expect me 
very soon. My Aspasia is under some little 
apprehensions about a winter's passage — But 
I leave all to superiour direction. Christo 
ducey ml desperandum. — You see, I write 
like a soldier. — For I profess myself a 
christian, as well as an Englishman militant* 
——Adieu, believe me to be, with real and 
unfeigned affection, 

" Your most sincere friend and servant, 

« G L- . 

<' Tusculum, upon the banks of H umber, 
Nov. 10, 1771." 

I always thought, my dear Charles, that 
our captain's temper and disposition were 
more suited to the mild and gentle offices of 
private and domestick life, than the hurry- 
ing and turbulent employments of war. Cou- 
rage he never wanted. But it is not of the 
furious, fiery kind. 'Tis like himself, steady, 
firm, and composed. Lord Granby once 
told his father in Germany^ that though he 
was not formed for enterprise, there was not 
an officer under his command, that mantain- 
ed his post and executed what he had to do 
with more resolution and firmness than 
young George. He has a high sense of ho- 
nour, but it is under the control of religion. 
No man that knows him doubts his courage; 
though he has frequently declared, that he 
despises that paltry kind of honour, which is 
to be gained or lost by accepting or refusing 



everj^ scene of pleasure which I once sharecP ^ a cliallenge.— He is not afraid to fight: — 



He is not afraid to die; — ^but he is afraid to 
offend his maker, by wantonly sporting with 
that life, which he received from Him, and 
which He only has a right to dispose of. In- 
deed, Captain L— — is truly religious, widi- 
out the least affectation or parade. — He is 
much beloved in the army; and was never 
known to have any difference with his hroi- 
ther officers. 

Leonora is come to town. I drank tea 
with her yesterday; and could not forbear 
reading to her the tender part of our friend's 
letter which relates to Aspasia. — I saw the 
involuntary tear steal down and mingle with 
the roses on her cheek. I saw her bosom 



swelling to give vent to the involuntar}- sigh« 
—This tear — ^this sigh-— spake a language, 
which my heart xould readily interpret.— 

The image of her beloved B pressed 

upon her soul. — ^In feeling for Aspasia, she 
felt doubly for herself.— ^'^ Heaven preserve 
the dear absent youth, methinks she would 
have said, and hasten the sweet period, which 
shall realize to my heart the endearing scenes 
which have crowned the virtuous Aspasia*s 
love. But O let me not, like her, ever expe- 
rience the pangs even of a temporary separa- 
tion!" 

After tea, Leonora proposed visiting a 
Lady whom I shall hereafter characterize 
under the name of Almira. We found her at 
her harpsichord: — Her husband, whom I 
shall call Amyntor, leaning over her chair, 
and both accompanying the instrument with 
their voices. — ^They attempted to rise as soon 
as we entered the room; but as we pressed 
them to let us share in the sweet entertain- 
ment they were giving to each other, thejr 
very obligingly consented. — it was a plain, 
simple little song, composed by a gendeman 
of this city, when he was about to leave Eng- 
land a few years ago, and addressed to a 
young Lady, a niece of my Lord — . — , at 
whose country seat in Bcrhhire^ he was 
most hospitably entertained. — Almira fa» 



voured me 
send you« 



with a copy, which I herewith 



Soon MyrtUla, must thy friend 

Hasten to a distant fihore; 
May propitious gales attend, 

May they waft him safely oVr! 

When to pensive joys inclin'd 

Through ray native groves I stray. 

Thy dear image to my mind 
Soothing pleasures shall convey. 

Fancy oft in airy flight, 

Will direct her course to you, 
Bringing scenes of past delight 

Back to my enraptur'd view. 

Oft shall Schuylkiirs rocky shore, 

With her waving woods around. 
Thy fond name repeating o'er, 

Strive to swell the pleasing sound. 

Thus with friendship most sincere, 

Shall my faithful bosom glow; • 
AU thy virtues 111 revere 

With such love as angels know. 

Hoping still, though far from thee, 

1 shall share thy dear regard, — 
Which delightful thought shall be 

My firm constancy's reward. 

There is a simplicity in the sentiment and 
language here, that should ever be the princi- 
pal cliaracteristick of a song. The measure 
too is such as considerably aids this simpli- 
city. Gay and Shenstone excel much in 
this way; and *tis no despicable species of 
poetry. Our old ballads will ever affect a 
sensible heart; and there are few modem 
songs that can come in compeddon with 
them. The tender-heaited Leonora wept 
at every stanza. I could have wept with her 
—and so could you, if your heart has not 
lost those fine sensibilities, which you once 
gloried in. O Charles! diere is more of 
heaven in these feelings^ than we are aware 
of. The morose religionist, and the supercili* 



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233 



ous pharisee, may despise them; and tis 
true, -that like many other gifts of heaven, 
tbey have been prostituted to the service of 
vice — But under the direction of a virtuous 
heart, they are precious — they are angelical 
they inspire a joy which the gross sensua- 
list will ever be » stranger to. — Let no pre- 
tended spiritualists talk you out of them. 
They can give you nothing in exchange but 
notions and opinions, whimsical and vision- 
ary. — The surest testimony we can have in 
ourselves, or give to others of being truly 
religious, arises from a meek and quiet spirit, 
a tender sympathy in each other's joys and 
sorrows, an humble opinion of ourselves, an 
abhorrence of pride and selfishness in every 
shape, and a peq^etual looking to an higher 
world than this, for the perfection of those 
virtues and graces, which are here but in 

their embryo state. Excuse this little 

preachment. — I give you full liberty to 
preach to me in your turn — And am, with 
great truth. 
Your most affectionate friend and servant, 

T. CASPIPINA. 
PhUad. Jan. 12, 1772. 

FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

LECTURER. 

No.V. 

Qui Et Maecenas, ut nemo quam sortem, 
Seu ratio dederit, sors objecerit ilia, 
Contemns vivat?— 

In other wor*/j— Whence arises discontent? 

My brother, being under the pressure of 
some secular difficuhies, and sitting in a very 
serious attitude, exclaimed with a heavy 
sigh, " Good God ! What a troublesome 
world; I wish I was in heaven." How ma- 
ny are the miseries of life, and how many 
more are groaiiing under real or imaginary 
burthens, to such a degree, that they esteem 
their existence a curse, and their life a hell : 
With such ideas how many have been tempt- 
ed to suicide, and too many have been indu- 
ced to commit the horrible deed. This man 
desires death, while another would give the 
whole world if he had it in his power, to live 
a little longer. This poor man who has not 
fifty pounds in the world is contented, and 
blesses the Divine Dispenser of joy and 
thankfulness w^th streaming tears of ecsta- 
tick delight; while that 'great man who pos- 
sesses thousands of pounds, with all the bles- 
sing's of plenty, honour, literature, and luxu- 
ry, is very miserable and wretched. Whence 
arises this strange difference? or how may 
every one be happy? 

Is not every one happy, who is in his pro- 
per plAce, and who enjoys the harmonizing 
sensations which arise from an union with 
the Divine Being, whose works are altogeth^ 
cr perfect and hormonious? — But he who is 
out of this harmony, who is separated from 
the Divine Nature, and out of the place 
which he should occupy in the order of crea- 
tion, must necessarily feel the effects of his 
unnatural situatioB. So in the animal body 
a bone forced out of its socket produces pain, 
and injury to action. 

A discontented mind is desirous of some- 
tkix^ it vants^ OF thinks it wants; but the 



mind that has all it desires, is happy: so that 
happiness and misery are of two classes, viz. 
as they have relation^o things of time, and 
"^things of eternity, ror all our hopes and 
fears refer to one or the other, or both of 
these two great divisions of general concern. 
As a belief in the existence of God, or the 
good spirit, appears to be, and to have al- 
ways been, imprinted on the moral conscience 
of all nations, iribes, and individuals; so has 
also the idea of a future state of existence, 
and of re%vards and punishments. If there 
is a Cxod to whom we are responsible for our 
good or ill conduct, in a future state of ex- 
istf^nce; and if true happiness here and here- 
after consists in an union and communion 
with the Divine Spirit and nature; it is not 
more difficult to account for remorse of con- 
science, and mental trouble, than for pain and 
sickness of body. As our body demands 
exercise, food and clothing; so will our soul 
which is to exist hereafter, if it is to exist at 
all. And if the soul has not that, which is 
necessary for it, it will be diseased, pained, 
and miserable. If it is immortal, it must be 
sustained by immortal aliment and raiment; 
and to be healthy it must be exercised in the 
things of eternal duration: — else like our 
bodies, it must suffer famine, inclemencies, 
weaknesses, and perhaps worse. 

As the visible things of creation plainly 
exhibit the invisible things of God, agreeably 
to the inspiration of Paid the apostle, it must 
appear that the mind or soul, bears an analo- 
gj' to the body, so far as can exist between 
that which is temporary and that which is 
eternal. If then we find it expedient for the 
health and happiness of human bodies to ex- 
ercise, feed, and clothe them; how much 
more important to exercise our minds in the 
vineyard of our divine master, feed on the 
eternal aliment it produces, and clothe our 
souls with its apparel. God is this vineyard, 
aliment, and apparel : His righteousness is 
the best of apparel ; he is the true nourish- 
ment for an immortal soul; the bread that 
comes from heaven, and communicates a 
heaven to our souls; the vineyard and true 
church, which is his body, wherein everj- one 
should come to worship, work, and lay up 
everlasting treasures and inheritances. In 
this consists the neW birth; wherein a union, 
love and communion between God and his 
children takes place, and they, as branches, 
draw nourishment from the good olive tree: 
Every branch that is industrious, and bring- 
eth forth fruit, the heavenly father purgeth 
it, that it may bring forth more fruit. Thus 
united to a being of infinite order, harmony, 
happiness, and love, the soul must be as at 
home— in its proper place, and partake of the 
perfections or its Creator to whom it is unit- 
ed: So that God rejoices in us and we in him. 
In him is true happiness-~for in him b 
every virtue: Pope, in his essay, has observ- 
ed, " Vittue alone is happiness btlow;" and 
above too, it might have been added, if the 
Lord's righteousness is meant by virtue. In 
Him, and in this happiness, all temporary 
woe is overcome, though it be afflicting to an 
extreme. In Him and in this happiness, the 
poor, the sick and afflicted of this world, bear 
patiently, and rise superiour oyer all their 



pains, poverty, and oppressions. On the 
contrary, the opulent, healthy, and prosper- 
ous of this world, have often to cry out like 
Solomon, " All is vanity, vanit}v and very 
vexation of spirit," while they are out of God 
— ^with hungry, naked, and indolent souls : 
which souls, while they have any life for 
wha^t is good, must, when their sensations arc 
not drowned by bodily feelings, endure re- 
morse, darkness, and woe. 

The mind and body sympathize : Both 
have their infirmities. Weakness and dis- 
ease of body have a tendency to injure the 
energy and health of the mind; and vice ver- 
sa^ the infirmities and disorders of the intel- 
lect, affect the corporal functions of animal 
economy. The great duke of Marlborough 
became so enfeebled in body, as to cry like a 
child. Affections of the mind daily produce 
hypochondriasis, hysteria, mania, and other 
nervous disorders, as epilepsy, fainting, &c.* 

Art thou in health, my brother? "No: I am 
sick at heart, my soul is sick of a wicked 
world; therefore I wish I was in heaven*" 
Thou wilt be, if heaven is in thy heart: and if 
it is not^ thou art unfit tp die. 

Reader, reflect on this! Prepare — prepare 
— get heaven— draw nigh, and meet thy God. 
Lay up eternal riches, cnerish thy nobler part: 
exercise it; feed and clothe it with immortal 
food and raiment. Wherefore do ye spend 
money for ^at which is not bread, &:c. Sec 
Isaiah 55. 



FOE THE EURAL VISITEI. 



The following, related to me by Joseph 
C which occuredto him while ambng 
the Indians, ouffht not to be lost, — and I un- 
derstand that it lias never been published. 

About twenty years ago a deputation from 
congress, with two presbytenan ministers 
educated at P— n College, visited the 
Creek Indians, and informed them that they 
had brought two ministers to them to preach 
the gospel of salvation; — and a number of 
good books(bibles) to learn them the way to 
heaven. 

Indians are wisely deliberative. They 
repeatedly met and consulted on the propo- 
sals offered them during two weeks:— the 
result of their deliberations amounted to 
these simple questions. 

Have you any black people in your coun- 
try? 

Do you preach the gospel of salvation to 
them? 

Do you give them those good books to 
team them the way to heaven? 

And do you treat them as brothers, or do 
you treat them as servants? 

Being answered — ^that they had black 
people among them, who were not treated 
altogether as brethren, and were neglected 
too much; — ^the Indians requested them to 
go home, and preach the gospel of salvation 
to the black folks; give them those good 
books that can leani them the way to heaven, 
and afterwards they might come to Indians, 
who then would receive them. 

What a lesson from heathens to christian 
professors! The mission returned, and one 
of the members of congress, having fourteea 
slaves was induced by it to manumit them. 



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i34 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



FOR IHJB RUItAb VI8ITZK, 

RHAPSODIST. 

No. IV. 

Say, ye who understand the bunmn soul, 
(If such there he) who know the secret springs 
From whence arise its pleasures and its pains. 
Why should the wretched be thus fond of life? ^ 
•Why,— when the thread of life (as if kind natnte 
Conscious of having forced us into being 
Was loath to give us cause for just complaint) 
Is nnade so brittle, that whene'er we find 
The scale of pleasure like to kick the beam, 
'Tis but a moment's work to close the scene- 
Why pain so long endured? Is it that hope 
Still throws her weight into thelighter scale. 
And brings the beam to balance? Or is it fear 
Of death, or what may happen after death— 
Perhaps pain more acute, or longer spun? 
Or is it that we are not quite nncerei 
And still, with all our murmurings, find in life. 
Some strong and tender ties to bind us to it? 
Strong, — strong indeed, and tender they must be. 
That can induce a soul to freedom bom, 
Of freedom fond as of the vital current, 
And formed for quiet, patiently to plod 
Her weary course adown this miry vale; 
Through sink, throngh slough, o'er bramble, brake 

and briar; 
To lay her neck quiescent under feet 
Of grovelling men, who nor reflect nor feel; 
In littleness triumphant; known to be, 
But by their power of making being loathed.— 
Ob thraldom, worse than Africk's sons endurel 
A Debtor*s bondage •*•••• 
And is there on earth, that can compensate? 
What is there that can? 

MarylaruL 

BATIUE OF HOHEN-LINDEN. 

Bij Thomas Campbell^ Esq* 

On Linden, when the sun was low, 
AH bloodless lay the untrodden snow. 
And dark as winter was the flow. 
Of Yser rolling rapidly. 

But Linden shewed another sight, 
When the drums beat at dead of night. 
Commanding fires of death ta light. 
The darkness of her scenery. 

By torch and trumpet sound array'd. 
Each warriour drew his battle blade. 
And furious every charger neigh'd. 
To join the furious revelry. 

Then rushM the steeds to battle driven,^ 
Then shook the hills with thunder riven. 
And voilying like the bolts of heaven. 
Far flash'd the red artillery. 

And redder still those fires shall glow. 
On Linden's hills of purpled snow, 
And bloodier yet shall be the flow. 
Of Yser rolling rapidly. 

'Tis mom— yet scared thfe Inrid sun 
Can pierce the war cloud's roUing dun, 
Where furious Frank and fiery Hun, * 

Shout in their sulph'rons canopjr. 

The combat deepens—On ye brave, 
Wlio rush to glory or the grave! 
Wave, Munich! sdl thy banners wave. 

And charge with all thy chivalry. 

Oh! few shall part, where many meet. 
The snow shall be their winding sheet. 
And every turf beneath their feet, 

Shall be the soldier's sepulchre! 

Many Ladies persist in denying that Cemaks were 
the origin of eviL Thay argue thus>— 

*Tis said that we caused man to griere— 

The jc*t is somewhat stale; 
For Satan 'twas that tempted £ve| 

And wILs mx 2i£ » male? 



ANECDOTE. 

The dialogtifi between PyrrhUs, King of 
Epirus, and Cineas his prime minister is full 
of instruction, and sets forth the restless spi- 
rit of man; ** What Sir, do you propose in 
this expedition against the Ilomans?" says 
Cineas: ** To conquer all Italy,'' answers 
Pyrrhu^: *' And what next?" says the coun-^ 
scHor: " Then we will transport our forces 
into Sicily,and make that kmgdom our own," 
replied his Majesty: "And what expedition 
will you ffo on after that?" "Then," adds the 
enterprizing herp, "weUl sail to Africa, and 
subdue that part of the world," " And what," 
continued the statesman, "remsfins to he done 
then?" "Why then — ^then," says the mon- 
arch, " we will sit down and hfe merry over 
our bowls." " And what,*' answers his min- 
ister, " hinders us from doing that now?*' 

A CURE 

For the Scab or Ticks on Sheep. 

Make a strong liquor of tobacco, dock 
root and green of elder; to two and a half 
gallons of liquor use one quart of soft soap; 
open the wool along the back, and two or 
three places along the side of the sheep; then 
take a bottle put a quil in the cork or an elder 
with a small pith for a cork; use as much of 
the liquor in those spaces ks to wet the body 
of the sheep. It will kill every tick, and cure 
the scab. 



TO COmRESPONDENTS* 

We have several times respectfully soUcited the au- 
thor of Ahira to send us the whole of the concluding 
part of her history i and we now repeat it. This is 
the only instance where we have commenced an.essay 
until after having seen the conclusion of it. 

Our readers will be pleased to hear that the Sojourner 
has again come^ we hope, to tarry with us awhile. 



INTELLIGENCE. . 

DOUESTICK. 

NAVAL ENGAGEMENT. 

Extract of a letter received by a respectable Mercan- 
tile bouse in Philadelphia, from their Correspon- 
dents in Norfolk, dated 

NORFOLK, May 18, 1811. 
Gentlemen,— We hftve just lime to observe, the pub- 
lick mind is in great agitation in this place this morn- 
ing, owing to an engagement having taken place on 
the night of the 16th inst. about 10 leagues to the 
southward of our Capes^ between two frigates; it is 
supposed to be the President and a British Frigate;— 
they were engaged 45 minutes, in which time about 
400 guns were fired. 

NEW- YORK. May 20. 
Distresting Csnftagrathn.'^Perhzp^ a more distress- 
ing scenei Uian the one exhibited to our view yesterday 
morning, has not been witnessed in this city since the 
close of the revolutionary war. The lire commented 
about 10 o'clock; and, the wind being high, the flames 
spread rapidly and raged severely ontU 12. From the 
best information we have been able to collect, fX a^ 
pears that about C^e Hundred Dwellings were de- 
stroyed, and about 150 families, most of them in indi- 
gent circumstances, were stript of their habitations, 
atid thrown upon the charity of their fellow citizens 
for shelter and for immediate subsistence. 

If the general report be true, the cause of thia deep 

and wide-spread calamity, is disgraceful to our city. 

It is said, that some person, in violation of the laws 

of God and of outr country, was at his daily labour on 

I ihe $ikbbMh^ ihM U ir»s boiiinf Y«nush; aiul that 



the Varnish iJbilcd over the top of the vessel, and in- 
stantly wrapped the building in flames.— ^cfaftr. 



FOREIGSr. 

We arc sorry to learn by late accounts from France, 
that "The King of the Romans and Young Enupervor 
of the West" had the cholick ! 

Captain Nash, of the schooner Eliza, in^ 30 days 
from Gonaives, brings some papers which relate to the 
affairs of Hayti. The following is an outline of the 
formation of the new government, as translated by m 
friend: — 

The president, Henry Christophe, is declared kmp 
of Hayti, under the name of 'Henry I. This title is to 
be hereditary with all its prerogatives in his famfly, in 
the male descendants, to the exclusion of women.-— 
The wife of the king is declared queen of Hayti. The 
members of the royal family take the title of princes 
and princesses. The king b to be considered a minor 
and not capable of reigning until the age of 15 yean; 
during his minority a Regent shall be appointed. The 
Regent to conclude no treaty, or make any alliance with- 
out the advice of the grand council, which is compos- 
ed of princes of the blood, dukes, &c. appointed V «ke 
king -—The grand officers of the kingdom shall be 
chosen among the different generals, accoi^g to their 
merit. When by an order of the king, or in case of 
inability, any of the general officers shall resign the 
duties of office, he shall retaui his thk, rank, and half 
his salary. There shall be chosen by the kii^, four 
ministers— a minister of war and of naarinc, a minis- 
ter of finances and of the interiour, a minister of for- 
eign affairs, and a minister of justice. 

Capt. Connell, of the schooner Merca^, in SO dayi 
from St. Domingo, informs that Petion had issued a 
Proclamation, ordering every white French inhabiiaat 
to leave the Island withcut delay. It is said that he 
had adopted this measure in consequence of discover- 
ing, from a number of intercepted letters, t4uit the 
white French people were secretly countenanciiiig and 
aiding Gen Rigaud in an attempt to destroy PetJMi 
anddesiroy the government. An engagement bar w<ea 
the troops of the two rival Cnief tains was daily ex- 
pected. 

A letter, dated London, April 15th, atates that r^ 
Prince Regent had dctcrnnincd not to send Mr Poster 
to this counir>; and that the Briiish Cottucil we« 
about to issue orders prohibiting American produce in 
any other thau British ve^si-lB, We understand thai a 
very intelligcn' passenger confirms the contents of this 
letter; ami adds that Mr. Pinkney had excited much 
disgust in London by refusing to attend the first levee 
held by the Prince as Regent of the Enjpire. Mr. 
Pinkney was the only foreign minister, then tu Lon- 
don, who was not present on that occasion. 

S^IDDLEBS LOOK HERE ! ! 

One hundred and twenty bushds of first qtiality 

DEER'S HAIR, 

For sale by A. F. LUFBERRY. 

JBurHngton, May 14, 1811. 



PUB LICK NOTICE, 

Is hereby given to the Members of the Burlingtea 
Library Company, that the following Rule is an ex- 
tract from the By-Laws of the Company, heing the 
ninth rule: and will be strictly enforced agsunst all de- 
linquents after this date. " AU thefnembo^in this 
city shall be entitled to take out any single boak for 
the space of four weeks, and those who da not live ia 
the city, shall be allowed to keep any single book six 
weeks; Or the members may have the Hbertv of taking 
all the volumes af one work, or two single hooks ac 
once, returning one of them, or the volumes in eiider« 
one each week, and riie whole in the time limited for 
keeping a single book; and in default of retumias the 
books, or each, or any of them ia thetitne ap|>oifited. 
the members shall be subject to a fine of one ahtUiag 
per week for each book so detained.** 

By order of the Directors, 
Z. HOLMES, Seoretary. 

Butiington, Sam. IHb, 1811. 3t« 



Published JVeeJth/y by D. JUknstm^ &f Co. 

CITY or BURLljtOTOK, W. J. 

Priee two Dollars sixty-two Cents for y<^vmt fim, 



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«♦ Ilemo aum ; bumani nihil a me aHemm puto.*' — Man and Ma cares tome a man, ere dear. 



VOL. t. 



BURLINGTON, SIXTH MONTH (JUNE) 3d, 1811. 



No. 45. 



THE BECORDEB. 
NO. XLIV. 

Spike vp their inch of reason, on the point 
Of philosophick wit, called argument; 
And then, exulting in their taper, cry, 
"Behold the sun!" and, Indian like, adore. 

HIGHT THOUGHTS. 

To the Recorder^ 

It is the lot of those who, like yourself fill 
any conspicaous station, to be known to 
many who are unknown to them. Such ac- 
cordingly is your case, x^.a of your writings 
at least, which arc read by iio^<ny an obscure 
individual, of whom, in i»i* probability, you 
will never have occasion to thmk. Such a 
one now takes the liberty of addressing you. 
Not indeed from any particaiar regard for 
you; but with a hope (should you think so fa- . 
' vourably of this as to give it a place among 
your papers) of afibrding some instruction to 
a number of those countr}^ members, for 
whom you so obligingly translate your Latin. 
Tothis undertaking 1 have been emboldened 
by several considerations, with which, if you 
can bear with a little egotism and circum- 
locutions which seem necessary to mtroduce 
my subject, you shall in due time be ac- 
quainted. Know then, that I am an appren- 
tice lad, now in the country. I was born in 
the city, where I received, not indeed a splen- 
did literary education, but, what I esteem 
even more valuable, a guarded one. By 
the care and example of my pai*ents and other 
kind relations, my mind was early imbued 
with correct moral ideas, which, joined to 
ray natural disposition, disposed nie, perhaps 
sometim«3 to my disadvantage,to shrink from 
intercourse with persons of my own age, in 
whose conduct I could not fail frequently to 
meet with traits which wounded my feelings, 
and which yet I had not always fortitude to 
condemn, even by a manly neutralit)% In- 
deed I have reason to believe that it requires 
more than all that the utmost care of parents 
can give, to enable a young person of inge- 
nuous temper, to maintain the purity of his 
principles against the biting ridicule, which 
any singularity of conduct is almost sure to 
bring upon him, from his thoughtless or his 
vicious companions; yet it is certain, that 
^vhile the world is whiat it is, singularity is 
included in the idea of virtue; Yes, I main- 
tain it "even to the teeth and forehead" of 
petuleat youth and grey bearded profligacy, 
whatever. they may gather from nmstypro-^ 
verbs or more modem sophistry to the con-' 
trary, notwithstanding, I mountain it, I say, a 
'truth worthy of all acceptation, ** He that 
will be virtuous, xiaust sometimes be si^gu* 



lar." A fig for that chamclion virtue which 
changes colour with the ground it stands on. 
"In the corrupted current of thrs world, al- 
ways to assent and to comply is the very 
worst maxim we can aclopt. But I forget 
myself— I proceed with my narrative. From 
what I have already said, you will^ not be 
surprised if I add, that I was passionately 
fond of the country; especially when I inform 
you furdier, that I had never resided a week 
together out of the circumambient smoke of 
,my native city. I had read Thomson's Sea- 
sons; and had seen enough of the country to 
make me hope for the realization of the 
poet's fondest dreams. Accordingly, when 
the time came for my learning some busi- 
ness, I eagerly embraced the opportunity of 
fixing myself in this terrestrial paradise. I 
think I see you smile in anticipation of my 
disappomtment. Ah! even had you been 
at hand to counsel and forewarn me, not all 
the deference due to your hoary locks, and 
to ths experience of ninety summers, would 
have undeceived me. A more dogmatical 
teacher has since taught me the fallacy of 
my hopes. It is now four years that I have 
tasted the sweets of the country; and sweets 
there are here, which it is not in die nature of 
city scenes to equal. Could I but choose my 
company I shoidd have nothing to complain 
of as to outward circumstances; but as that 
is not in my power,. I hope I shall be excused 
for endeavouring to point out some faults 
which I am obliged to be witness to, as the 
publication of them may possibly have a ten- 
dency to correct them; or at least to convince 
those whom it concerns that they are not 
considered as accomplishments. Could you 
but set some of our country members to 
thinking, you would indeed write to purpose. 
So averse are many to this species of labour, 
that, though they wotdd fain pass for persons 
of strong minds, they cannot endure the in- 
tellectual fatigue of accompanying you in 
your philosophical disquisitions. I am ere* 
dibly informed that many who take the Rural 
Visiter seldom look into the Recorder. This 
may be attributed to several causes: First, 
you require in your readers thought and 
attention. Secondly, you deal in Greek and 
Latin; and lasdy, like a stated minister, you 
make your appearance regularly, to deal out 
your weekly dole: Whoever else may come 
^forward, th«y are sure of meeting you* 
Hence your venerable phiz has become so 
£amiliar, that many think they are weU ac* 
quainted with you, and thus neglect you to 
run after every novel itinerant that may cross 
their way. These desultory readers may 
perhaps be induced to pay attention to what 
mterests themselves, especially when coming 
from ^ pea of . $t layman. I shall therefore 



proceed to mention some of the disagreeable 
circumstances attending my country resi- 
dence. As I have said, I came here with 
high expectations; I did not, it is true, cal- 
culate upon much positive satisfaction from 
my rustick associates; but I expected at least 
not to meet with any of those fashionable 
irregularities, (often affected) which are so 
disgustbg in some of our city bucks. To 
make up for the deficiency in literature and 
breeding, I thought I might reasonably look 
for simplicity and innocence. But in this I 
have been sadly disappointed. Here is all 
the corruption of the city, without its polish. 
Among those who consider themselves ^s 
elevated by their mental powers an inch 
above the throng, the affectation of free think- 
ing has laid waste all that was amiable, and 
furnished neither sense nor talents to fill lip 
the vacancy. It is really a most pitiful illus- 
tration of the weakness of human nature, to 
see many young men who scarcely know the 
definition of the term, affecting deism;, and 
imagining, that because they can find some 
apparent incongruities in the scriptures (a 
thing which every moon-visioned critick may 
easily accomplish) they manifest uncommon 
penetration and powers of mind. 

As I believe the infatuation of these young 
gendemen proceeds rather from "pure hero- 
ical defect of thought" than from any very 
alarming internal depravity, I am rather pro- 
voked than shockea, at the insolence and 
contempt which they manifest for all autho- 
rities, sacred and profane, which do not 
square with their own preconceived ideas of 
" the immutable nature of right and wrong, 
and the eternal fitness of things." In vain 
shall you endeavour to combat their errours 
from scripture. The prophets and apostles 
were but men; and were hable to deception* 
Your success is the same if you cite the 
opinions of the most profound among profane 
writers. Let others be awed by great navies 
if ^ey choose; for their part, they are deter- 
mined to inquire for themselves. They ap- 
pear to have adopted the concise and ener- 
getick nflode of reasoning I have somewhere 
seen noticed, "I— comprehend in my con- 
ceptions, the ideas of every thing that has 
been, that is, or that can be; now I cannot 
conceive this; therefore it cannot be." This 
affectation of originality b the more ridicu- 
lous, as it is evident upon even a slight ac- 
quaintance with them, that their faith in 
infidelity (if this be not a perversion of terms) 
is pinned upon the sleeves of a few individu- 
als, who have had the address to impose their 
xiiapsodies upon these greenhorns, as the 
result of profound metaphysical research. 
. For want of a proper acquaintance with the 
peculiar customs and manners of pther na- 



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ticmS) and p^cukrly of ancient nations, 
their biUe is a book of riddles to the;m; and 
they meet at tveiry turn widi objections 
and difliculties^ which, to minds less subtile 
or better informed, would never have ap- 
peared* I am fsur from supposing that I 
can prescribe for this disease any mfallible 
node of cure, which can be administered by 
man* A member of an association of igno- 
rant persons who seemconfederatedmutually 
to support each other's claim to the epithet 
of shiner J I conceive to be of all infatuated 
beings the most incorrigible»--*Yet I will 
venture to suggest some thoughts ^hich 
|iave occurred upon the subject, both as to 
cause and cure. Among the former may be 
ranked foremost, a defective education : Se- 
condly the frequenting of debating societies; 
tiiose schools of elocution, where youth of 
talents go to acquire the laudable art of 
*' expressing Aeir thoughts." What bene- 
ficial effects may one day result to our degra- 
ded country from these nurseries of states- 
men, I shs^ not pVesume to forebode; but, 
** m my humble opinion," as says the modest 
speaker, the time would be much better em- 
ployed, at least for the early years of life, 
in endeavouring to acquire something worth 
expressing, luie third and last cause which 
I shall remark is, an ambition of attracting 
notice. And it is this chiefly that indicates 
the proper treatment, viz. neglect. I woiild 
therefore recommend to all christian people, 
in whose neighbourhoods symptoms of this 
malady may appeso*, which they have reason 
to suppose have originated in the cause above 
mentioned, to leave the patient to himself, 
and by all means to avoid any marks of 
alarm as to hb safety; for this is die very 
food on which the disorder feeds. Treat 
him as you would an indifferent person, in 
whom you observe nothing remarkable. A- 
void introducing subjects of faith and doc*- 
trine; but should they be introduced, mo- 
destly maintain your own belief, widiout 
evincing the smallest anxiety to gain him 
over. The savoury pottage of notice mdy 
nourish in the soul, spurious symptoms, 
either of good or evil. Sincerity alone can 
live upon the water-gruel of neglect. 

Tou wiU perhaps suppose, that I have 
been portraying chai^ters which exist only 
in my own imagination.— I have indeed been 
informed, that m those parts of our country 
where solid science has been for a long time 
successAilly culdvated, diis species of affec- 
tation is growing very much out offashioru 
But the case is diflFerent with us. We are 
but just emerging frbm the shades of igno- 
rance; and our zeal for the promotion of 
learning, or the appearance of it, carries us 
into many whimsical extravagances, of which 
I hope we shall be cured, when we shall 
have drunk more "largely," pf **the pierian 
spring.** I would not however be understood 
to imply, that I believe all deists, free think- 
ers, or whatever they may call themselves, 
are thus destitute of knowledge and abilities. 
I can very well conceive, that '♦with the tal- 
ents of an angel, a man ma^ be ^ fool."-— 
Neither would I wish to insmuate that there 
aretnone who seriously douto of the truth of 
dinstianityf but of thtt I $m pretty confi4ciit^ 



that nb serious mind that is sincere in hs 
searches after truth,widi the evidences of the 
gospel before it, will be permitted long to re- 
main in delusions on a point, which, to every 
reflecting person must appear to be of the 
greatest importance. *'A serious mind," says 
l^r* Young, ** is Ac native soil of every vir- 
tue; and the .single character that dpes true 
honour to mankind." Such a one, tHough 
for a time permitted to wander in the wilds 
of errour, will certainly, if rightly disposed, 
be finally conducted to truth m every point 
essential to salvation. 



SSUICTBD FOR TUB BUBAL TISITBB. 

" Comcy my beloved^ let us go forth into the 
field: Let us lodge in the villages*^ 

The hope of gain, and the love of society, 
hdve now for centuries, incited men to risk 
many inconveniences, for the sake of congre- 
gating in cities. The simple would natural- 
ly conclude that where there was "much 
people" there would be much jollity. Despe- 
rate adventurers, bringing their craft to 
market, would have nothing to lose, and 
every thing to gain in the throng. .Ambition 
would find, in every street^ a ladder lofty 
enough to reach the extent of many a project; 
and Avarice could find no place more conve- 
nient to drive a bargain, than a frequented 
coffee house, or an obscure alley. Schemes 
of wealth and aggrandizement, or pleasure, 
tlius operating upon hope, the busiest and 
most sanguine passioi^ should we wonder to 
mark flocks of rovers, eager and upon the 
wingt expecting by a flight from the country 
to fly from themsdivesf 

But wisely has the wise man said, ^^Better 
is a handful with quietness^ than both hands 
full, with tntvaU and vexation of spirit." 
Tranquilli^ chooses the countrj' for her fa- 
vourite residence,and should you inquire for 
the peaceable personage in town, every cit 
would tell you he did not know her, and that 
she must bie some oudandish person. In ci- 
ties I grant there are many agitations^ which 
are dignified by the name of pleasure^ but 
they are a spurious brood, and lelicity would 
not call them her own. The streams of 
pleasure in cides are like their common sew- 
ers: they .are turbid, they are full of taint. 
He who quaffs liberally must soon be either 
sick or drunk; and such morbid influence 
have they on the brain, that men go from 
them, like the aposde's gazer in the glass, 
"not knowing what manner of person they 
were." 

They who wish never to be cloyed, to res- 
pire with freedom, to ei^oy the pleasure of 
reading and reflection, and to sleep sweedy, 
must go forth into the fields and lodge in the 
villages. Allowing that there are some gen- 
uine delights in the thronged town, yet they 
tread too fast on each other, and weary by 
constant succession. A man will pray some* 
times no less fervently for a respite from 
pleasure, than, in a fit of the gout, for a res- 
pite from pain. The pleasures of the coun- 
try, pure, simple, not dazzling, not boister- 
ous; will gendy stir the strea^^ of life; a 



.stream which passion should not be suferedl 
to vex mto whirlpool, nor be ^^creamed over 
and manUed" by the sugnation of slodi. To 
saunter along the banks of the brook, and 
allure the trout from his recess, to erap die 
fantastick flowers of May^ or the strawber- 
ries of June, to climb the sotemn mountain, 
or loiter in the valley's shade, are cheap and 
real pleasures, make no man a criimna^ and 
leave no sting behind.' 

Such is the influence of the atmosphere 
upon the human bodv, that even robust 
consuttttions are sensible of the changes of 
the air, and invalids are ^ tremUingly 
alive'* to them* A fluid, that, whether we 
are sheltered at home^ or exposed abroad, 
we are obliged perpetually to daJ)ble in, wc 
should attempt to nnd in die utmost purity. 
But in great towns, on the margm of the 
main, reeking with the putrefaction of its 
shores; in cities, whose streets are defiled 
with frequent feet, and scorched by the dog- 
star, where every ifenth house is a hospital, it 
is, not air which the sallow inhabitants 
breathe, but "a mass of offensive things.*' 
Let the chain which binds willing prisoners 
to the crqwd be broken, let them "go forth to 
the field," and if the easy play of their lungs, 
and alertness of limbs; if the light slumber 
and the red cheek will npt convince them 
whence the mighty change in their healdihas 
proceeded, they deserve to die soon, and in 
some dirty lane, as a punishment for their 
incredulity. 

Dissipfiiion being the characteristick of 
cities, to travel its round will require so nauch 
time that none will be left to cultivate the 
understanding, or mend the heart. What- 
ever some indoleRt fine ladies and fine gen^ 
demen may suppose, we were not sent into 
this world merely to go to assemhli^, to 
saunter at shops, to purchase of milliners, or 
undergo the three hours' operation i»f a bar- 
ber. He, who wislies to read verses, or 
write them, he who means to instruct others, 
or commune with himself, must seek the rc- 
tirenient of die 'Afield" and the "village." In 
the city, protracted dinners and midnight re- 
vel will murder half, and more than the day, 
and the long repose of the morning will be 
necessary to repair the wasted spirit. Is 
solitude, as there are few incidents to enchain 
the mind, and few excesses to debase it, the 
student will bring a willing intellect to the 
complicated task, and from a pen put to a 
rural desk, all difficulfy and hindrance will 
vanish away. He who, in city, and broken 
slumbers, has a thousand times turned his 
pillow and himself, and like Shakespeare^s 
king, has muttered, '^ O partial sleep, how 
have I frighted thee," will find that if he 
would sleep soundly, he roust *4od^ in the • 
village.'* That exercise which, jn the coun- 
try, is usually taken in the day, will induce 
that lassitude ever accompanied by delicious 
repose at night. He may be assured, that 
at the close of the day^ the hamlet is stiJI; il« 
lumbering carts or chariots wiQ banish his 
pleasant dreams, no outci^ of midni^^t 
murder chill his palpitating heart; no noise 
will strike his ear, but the distant waterfall 
and no fires glitter in his eye, but the in- 
noxious one of the ludd insects of the mea- 



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237 



t«s= 



Bpte 



iows. At this genial period, when every 
Janv rose is broad blown, and the garniture 
df the fields is of the greenest hue, the emi- 
grant -from town, may, perhaps, find some 
amusement not inferiour to gambling dl 
Bight, tracing dusty streets, or visiting the 
-tagacious dog. " He will acknowledge the 
flavour 6f oar strawberry equal to his pine 
«ppie, and the notes of the robin, and wren 
*^ of little quill," may sooth him as much, and 
sound as sweet, as those of the songstress of 
the theatre. 

THE LAY PREACHER. 



VOt TRB KVRAL VISITISK. 

SOJOURNER. 

No. XIIL 

•^Religion does not make men gloomy;*' 
is an expression common enough: but, per- 
haps most frequently to be found on the lips 
^ •f those who have the least reason to make 
the assertion. — It is said in scripture of a 
certain class, "Though they say, *The Lord 
liveth,' surely they swear falsely." And 
why? Not as I apprehend because the asser- 
tion was not literally true in its widest sense; 
but because they asserted that as knowledge, 
of which they were not experimental witnes- 
ses. Now, all real and efficient knowledge 
being founded in experience, he who holds 
that as knowledge, which he has only heard 
tell of, may in one sense be said to speak 
falsely. Upon this view of the subject, how 
many are there, who when they say " Reli- 
gion does not make men gloomy," might 
upon a candid scrutiny into their motives, 
Bnd themselves in this predicament. — How 
many whc, f:ir from speaking from their ex- 
periecice of the efFectaof religion on the heart, 
make ate of die expression, only as a cover 
for the levity of their ^conduct.-— But grant- 
ing that religion does not make men gloomy, 
(which for aught I know, may be true) i& it 
thence to be inferred, that it makes men light; 
or that it is a foe to serious thought? Does 
it make men^s minds so empty, so totally 
destitute of internal resources, that they can 
be, happy only in a crowd, and miserable 
■wli^n left to' their own reflections? If these 
are the effects of religion, so far from its be- 
ing a blessing to mankind, it must, at least in 
this state of existence, be a most serious evil; 
since it is the lot of every one to be some 
portion of his time without society, and he 
knows not how soon he may be subjected to 
a total privation of it. 

I trust BO one will so far misconstrue ray 
meaning in the foregoing, as to suppose, that 
I wish to apologize for that moroseness of 
[ temper, that cloudiness of look, that indif- 
/^.rence to the opinions or feelings of those 
h >out us, which, possibly^ some mistaken 
persons may wish to impose upon the world 
for the effects of religion. That, I apprehend, 
is not the reigning fault of the present age, 
nor this the description of pe<^le at which 
the point of the refljLXtion is generallj- aimed. 
— As filras my observation has furnished me 
with data to judge irom, it is more frequent- 
ly used as an excu$e for the conduct of thpscv 



who are willing to cast off restraint, than as 
an accusatipn of those whose acceptation of 
the term " innocent amusement" is not so 
extensive;' though indeed, where persons of 
the latter description either by their senti- 
ments, or otherwise, happen to jostle their 
merry companions, this retort is not always 
without a tincture of hitter. In such cases, 
the inference which these *' good-hearteiP^ 
criticks evidently appear to wish, is this: that 
those who by the demureness and sobriety 
of their looks seem to cast a damp upon the 
convivial enjoyment of their companions, 
are hypocrites; (a most convenient term) and 
that the only persons who are in the way to 
heaven, are those who appear to enjoy them- 
selves on earth.— This is surely a very 
flowery padi to the regions of bliss, and I am 
sure I do not feel disposed to plant an unne- 
cessary thorn in the way; but let me be ex- 
cused if from the little experience which I 
have had, I am rather inclined to believe with 
a favourite poet, 

••The path of sorrow and that path alone 
Leads to the land where aoirow is unknown." 

This may at the first view appear severe; 
yet I believe that upon a more minute atten- 
tion to the nature of man and the grounds of 
happiness, it will appear to be severbly true. 
It is certainly consistent with the tenour of the 
New Testament — ^ It is through many tri- 
bulations that the righteous shall enter the 
kingdom.** — And this is perfectly conforma- 
ble to those inductions which we are con- 
strained to make, from reflections upon the 
nature of man and the causes of happiness. 
Whether the mind enters the world with a 
predisposition to good or to evil exclusively, 
or lo both; or, like a blank sheet, to be writ- 
ten upon by the finger of circumstance, are 
questions which do not materially affect the 
subject. Every candid obsexVer of what 
passes within himself, or of what he sees 
manifested of the state of others, must be 
constrained to acknowledge, that in whatever 
state a human being may have commenced 
the journey of life, he proceeds but a shprt 
distance in it, before his garments ^re pollu- 
ted by the mire of the way.^^'* I have sin- 
ned^" is a language in which all mankind may 
safely unite — "All have sinned.'* This be- 
ing the case, the necessity' of a change of 
hearty as preparatory to the enjoyment of 
happiness, might be predicated from the ve- 
ry nature of thmgs, though the scriptures of 
truth were silent on the subject. But in these 
we find the most unequivo^ declarations of 
this necessity.— A change then, ts necessary. 
How is -this to be effected?^-Bv the cold dic- 
tates oi Reason? Reason, alas! in a corrupt- 
ed mind does not hold the sceptre : Uncon- 
trolled by a principle independent on man, 
she is but a court parasite, that flatters the 
**ruling passion.*' She may indeed remon- 
strate iot a time, but her voice is easily over- 
ruled, and finally silenced, li not gained over 
by the more powerful and active principles 
of the mind. To what principle then of hu- 
man nature must we look, if reasofi fails us ? 
Borne smoothly along the tide of time by the 
deceitful gales of a &se complacency, the 
iniRd readily yields i^lf to the delightful j 



impulse; and viewing both past and future 
through tjhe medinm of the present, it finds 
in thfe former no source of serious regret, and 
in the latter, none of fear: " As a man's pre- 
sent, so is his past and future^"-- To a mind 
in such a state, the wammgs of theffospd 
itself, ait addressed as to a ^* deaf addcffc^i— 
For die siifety of her state, she has appealed 
from Reason to Peeling: From Reason tbeo 
to Feeling must Truth appeal, to recover her 
from her delusions; some stroke of adversity 
—-some visitation of sickness-^some priva- 
tion of friends, or some sfecret affliction, must 
rouse her to an examination of the ground of 
her standing; for we are more anxious to oh* 
taifr-retease from suffiering, than to procinre 
pleasiire.— The latter we may enjoy without 
inquiring whence it comes. If it continues, 
it little interests us to know whether it de- 
pends upon our own conduct, or upon causes 
altogether adventitious : Thought^ efficient 
thought, that which «* attains to the dignity 
of thought," is the oi&prin^ of pain. Pain 
is an evil; an evil from which we are desir- 
ous of escaping; but while we have a^ pre- 
tensions to rationalit}', we are forced to be- 
lieve that pain will not cease till its cause be 
removed. We arc hence constrained to in- 
vestigate its cause, and to exert our endeav- 
our to effect this removaL If now the light 
of truA should make it manifest that the fun- 
damental cause of our suffering is the cor« 
ruptoess of our heart, and its final cause, a 
change of hearty it need not i^pear strange, 
that 

" All that i$ in mstn— pride, pission, art. 
Powers of the head, and feeTings of the heart, 
Insenaible of Truth's almighty chami8» 
Stan a^ hn first aj^iroach, and soimd to arms.V 

Nor less strange, that this conflict shouU 
produce in its subject disrelish for the amuse- 
ments of life, which might easily, by a Super- 
ficial observer, be construed into gloom. 

Even where religion may have measurably 
operated this essential change, and removed 
the clouds which for a time had been permit- 
ted to obscure the beauty of all terrestrial 
objects; we are naturally led to expect that 
the temperate enjoyments of the good should 
be chastened with 'HrembKng." — Something 
indeed must be allowed to complexion: minds 
are various; they ivere created various; all 
the works of God are stamped with variety; 
a variety which is not only consistent with 
order, but which in some cases constitutes 
its very essence. Far be it from me to wish 
to see the various grades of mmd reduced f 
one dead leveL 

Let then the good show forth wiilioot offl^ce 
•'In decent pleasantry** their *'sterIiog sense.** 

m pledge them if I dare; but from these 
I shall never dread the illiberal taunt, "Re** 
ligion does not make men gloomy.^ 



A farmer who lives in Bensalem township, 
Bucks' county, being at a drj^ good store m 
the neighbourhood, dressed in a coat manu- 
factured on his own fanii« the storekeeper 
looking at the coat, a^ked if it was Bengal*-* 
No, reidied^ £praier,it is JBamikm^ 



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FOR THE RVBAL VI81TBR. 

ADDRESSED TO H. W. 

The Wreath thou hast woven fat fanciful tyes. 
Has attracted a votary, at Poesy's shrines 

Bru9h'd of the dark cloud, that late bound up her brows, 
To inhale all the spirit-breathing sweetness, of thine. 

A^! elegant ntinstrel-^aU ^ul-feeling softness; 
Thy pathos, thy harmony, thrill each nerve of the 
heart : 
Thou canst charm away sorrow— dispel ihc rude tem- 
pest, 
And the sweet, healing balm of composure, impart. 

On thy Wreath, in an ecstacy, bordering on transport, 
My mind*s eye has feasted, till every flower 

Has twin'd round its tendrils with wildest luxuriance, 
And deck'd for its votarist a fanciful bower. 

May thy lyre be unbroken— thy verses still flowing: 
Thy roses bloom fairer— and e^tiy blossom 

Come warm from the heart— soft, genial, and glowing. 
As first they expand on May^s gentle bosom. 

ANNA. 
2 mo. 3, 1811. 



FOa THE RUaAL VISXTSR. 

TO I, 

The author of the beautiful verses on May. 

When in the east, the car of night, 

Descending from the heav'ns is seen; 
And morning from the bowVs of llghr, 
Sprinkles her dews o'er cv'ry greenj 
Oh! how I'd love, with thee, to stray. 
Sweet minstrel of the rosy May. 

Where clust'ring wild-pinks press the ground. 
And sweet-briers bloom, we'd musing rove; 
We'd range the pansied meadows round, 
Or linger in the vocal grove; 

And frame wild wreaths and garlands gay, 
To bind the brows of rosy May. 

®r in some richly shaded vale, 

We'd seek, where early vlMcts bloom. 
And breathe from many a lingVing gale. 
The flow'ring locusts* rich perfume; 
And fresh dews shake, from wild-flow'rs gay, 
To wet the lips of rosy May, 

Or in some haunted, holy wood, 

Mark where the languid bee reposes. 
And drinks his rich voluptuous food, . 
From balmy lips of op'ning roses; 

And note the ring-dove's plaintive lay, 
To blooming spring, and rosy May. 

And when the sun's meridian beam, 

Shall bid us to the shade retire; 
We'll seek some cool, sequest'red stream, 
And waken Spring's delightful lyre; 
And frame fall many a roundelay. 
To- friendship dear, and ro;y May. 

But love's enrapturing, feverish dream. 

Enchanting girl! we most forbear* 
^is a sweet, but dangerous theme. 
Unmeet to breathe, and wrong to heai;; 
Oh! far be love, whene'er we stray, 
By woodland wild, on rosy May. 

Aiiiil when the Vett!a green hills are seen» 
With heaven's pure gokl to richly blend; 

Vpoa f ome upland, shadowy green, 
W^U vfew the glorious orb descend; 
And 1!^ its ling'rhig beams decay^ 



RMIEO. 



rOR THB RURAL VISITER, 

BHAPSODIST. 

No. V. 

** ——Something whispered, Time win bring a cure.*' 

M« 

Ves— Time will surely bring a cure for all— 
Rejoiced I take my text from such a souroei 
Tfy lines, at once my muse, and tend^rest theme. 
Sweet source of each extreme of joy or woe. 
Of hope or fear.— My comfort, my distress- 
But for my comfort does my woes outweigh, 
*' The consoladon cancels the complaint,"— 
Sovereign assuasive "Time wiU bring a cure.'' 
No form of evils can escape his power; . 
No size, no class, of all that mortals prove— 
Of all they prove, or all they fear to prove.— 
Or present ills, or ills of retrospect. 
Or ills which reason tells us must befall. — 
Or ills by some called fancied, but which yet, 
Though know, who feel them, to be real too.— 
These all shall pass^— Time brings a cure for all«» 
And brings it soon— Man's life is but a span— 
Tliere ends, if not till then, all woildl> ills; 
They cannot pass the grave.— What matter then 
Our lot below — Why toil we to be rich ! 
Why furnish our apartmeVits with such cost. 
Such cost to peace and love— •* to lodge one night." 
Lo! yon sepulchral ground derides our care! 
To him whose bosom bleeds, it points to heaven. 
And softly whispers, "Time will bring a cure."— 
To him who seeks to make a heaven of earth 
It cries *• Beware**- and marks his fleeting date.— 
** We fxere earth's lords— where our possessions now^^ 
Which is the dust that lived by toil or alms. 
And which the dust of lords, the debtors which, 
And which the creditors?''— Triumphant Time! 
Praises to him who bath appointed thee 
A grand destroyer, and the wretch's friend!— 
I triumph in destruction— I rejoice 
To see earth's pleasant things all fade away.— 
Yea, let them perish— Lci her glories fade — 
The soul — the soul, delights in other spheres 
Where kindred spirits meet, where eanh's forgotten, 
Or only recollected to enhance 
The joys without alloy, or fear of change. 

Maryland* 



SELECTED FO»THE'Rt7RAL VISITER. 

The grand dogmas of Indian Theology, 
are exhibited with the blended energies, oi 
Philosophy and Poetry in an ancient hymn, 
or Divine ode, addressed to Narayana, or the 
Divine Intellect, as it appears in the animate;.! 
translation of Sir William Jones, irom which 
these stanzas are transcribed. B« 

Spirit of Spirits, who through every part 
Of space ei^panded, and of endless time. 
Beyond the stretch of labouring thought sublime, 
Bad^st uproar into beauteous order start. 

Before heaven was, thou art! 
Ere spheres beneath il& roird, or spheres above, 

Kre earth in firmamental ether hung, 
Thou sat'st alone, till through thy mystick love 

Things unexistent to existence sprung. 
« # « :Xc % * 

—Wrapt in eternal solitary shade, 
The impenetrable gloom of light intense. 
Impervious, inaccessible, immense; 
Ere spirits were infus'd, or forms display 'd« 
Brahm his own mind surVey'd. 

—Mountains whose radiant spires 
Presumptuous rear their summits to tl^e skfet, 
Atid blend their emerald hues with sapphire Tight; 
Smooth meads and lawns that glow with varying dyes 
Of dew bespangled leaves and blossoms bright— 
Hence! vanish from my sight! 
*#*##♦ 
Delusive pictures ! unsubstantial shows! 
My soul absorbed, one only Being knows. 
Of all perceptions one abundant source. 
Whence every object every moment flowsi 

Suns hence derive their force. 

Hence planets learn their cotn^e; 
But sons and imding worids I view no more. 



\ 



TO GORRSSPOVDBKTS. 

Jbma was never received until within a few days. 
RtcltiH has also come to hand. 



INTELLIGENCE. 

POMESTJCK. 

THE LATE NAVAL ENCAGXMSNT. 

New-York, May 34. 

The following account, after being drawn up. was 
shewn to one of the gentlemen who came up from the 
President yesterda/, and may be relied upon as ao ac* 
curate statement. 

The United States' frigate President, commodore 
Rogers, arrived off the Uook yesterday forenoon from 
a cruise, and her captain of marines, capt. CaldwelJ, 
and lieut. Perry, came up to town iu the afternoon m 
a pilot-boat. 

It appears that about nine o'clock on the evening of 
the 16th mstant, the frigate President fdl in with a 
sloop of war about 40 mUcs N. E. of Cajje Henrv; that 
when they had come up within 50 yards of her,' com- 
modore Rogers hailed her, to know who she was aiid 
where from. — The commander of the sk>op of war 
atuwrtd by asking who and what the frigate was?— 
Commodore Rogers, conceivmg himself entitled to 
the ftrst answer, hailed a second time, and iasvantly 
after received a shot, which struck his mainmast He 
returned it. Upon which the sloop ol war poured a 
whole broadside into him, he rauged up along skic, 
and an action commenced, each being ignot an tat that 
time of the other's force. 1 he sloop of war, after two 
broadsides, ceased firing for a few moiiicnts; and com- 
modore Rogers, supposing she had struck to him, 
gave orders immediately fur the frigate to ccas€ firing. 
But a few momenis elapsed before the sloop of war, I 
taking the President foraFrench frigate, comrr.enc«d 
her hre again, and the baiile was renewed, which last- 
ed about ten nmnutes, when the sloop of war struck 
her colours. Commodore Rogers, judging from fcs 
super.our force, that he must have injured her ver/ 
much, determined to lay by her during the njght; aod 
tarly the next morning sent his boat with one of hU 
lieutenants on board, and finding that he had (to u*e a 
cant phrase) completely iiddlcd her, crippled all rhrte 
ot htr musts, and killed and wounded thirty of Ur 
men, oflered his assistance to get her into port, ^Vcl 
the commander of the sloop of war poliidy dcclirtd, 
^a>tng he believed he should be able \o reach Hal. fax 
without any assistance. On being asked how-lie caiu* 
to fire into the President, he answered :hat he thought 
sue was a Frenchman. The President baa received 
iiule or no damage, and had only one boy slightl, 
wounded m theatm. The sloop of war is a Dani-k 
buili ship, called the Lecle Belt, commanded by cap- 
tain Bingham, mounts 22tliirty.two pound carronadei, 
and belongs to the British navy. Captain Caldaeli 
left town this morning for Washington. 

(Q* The official letter of toe Conmnodore is now 
published, which corroborates the above account. 

Loss of Gun Boat, No. 157. 

This vessel, commanded by lieutenant John Kerr, 
in attempting to go to sea, bound to St. Mary*s, got on 
the South Breaker's Head, and soon after upset, whea 
Lieut. Kerr, and fifteen of the crew, were unfortunate- 
ly drowned. Messrs. Giles, Herior, and Atwood, mid- 
shipmen, the pilot and five others, being the remain- 
der of the crew, were taken off the wreck by two Wish- 
ing canoes. To what circumstance this mdancholy 
event has been owing we have not been able eo learn. 

New-Havrh, May 21. 
A very considerable bed of Marble has lately been 
opened in the vicinity of this place, about €ve miks 
from town, on tlie New-York turnpike. The speci- 
mens from thilquarry which wehavevleen, we hand* 
somely coloured, of a delicate uxtiwei^nd to appear- 
ance equal ia point of beauty or dursbUity. tp much of 
the Italian marble so much adsaired in tjlis country. 
The bed lies near to MOfotd harbour, £tom tihaace the 
marble may be easdy tias^ported to nmOfptinM of the 
United States. 



Published Weekly^ by D. Allimm^ 6? Co. 

CITT OF BVRLINCTON, If, J, 



Prioe two Dollars siaty-two Cents for Volaiiift fim, 
' payaUeiemi-annually in advance. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



** Ifomo sum; humani nihil a me alienum puto.'*^-^Man and his cares to me a man^ are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, SIXTH MONTH (JUNE) lOth, 1811. 



No. 46. 



THE RECORDER. 
NO. XLV. 

- «« Nemo in sese tchtat desccnderc.**— Per. Sat. 

Son of immortality, mid Heir of Glory ! 
listen to the words of Almana, for his coun- 
sels are the counsels of Wisdom, and the 
Genius of Instruction hath dwelt in his heart. 

Let the words of his mouth sink deep into 
thy soul, for the path of piety is not hidden 
from man, and Almana i« a Christian. Thus 
speaks he to the child of his hosom, and thus 
imparts the lessons of his experience. The 
expectations of life are vanity, and the pros- 
pects of hope are full of disappointment. 

The sun that in the morning shines with 
pure lustre, is obscured by clouds at the 
noontide, and the curtains of the evening are 
closed by tempests. 

The anticipations of youth at the gay dawn, 
are' not always fulfilled at the meridian of 
life; and the decline of age is too frequently 
shrouded in darkness. 

In the secret recesses of abstraction, pon- 
der therefore on the eventful scenes of life, 
and let thy soul languish for climes, where 
the ** night of earthly noons" is known no 
more, but where the votaries of piety dwell 
in the s{Jendour of life eternal. In the morn- 
ing of life, we behold Virtue, and she is be- 
loved; but when the evening comes, a sigh 
prises from our bosoms. 

Son of Almana! wilt thou not place a rein 
on thy passions? Unrestrained, they impel 
thee to the commission of vice, and hurry 
thee to destruction. 

But temperate are the blessings of Virtue: 
they are salutary and perpetual. 

Dost thou hear the praises of Virtue, as 
good tidings from a far country, in the bene- 
fits of which thou canst not participate? 

Is virtue but a shadow and a name ? Lo ! 
that precious jewel is within thy reach: this 
is the day, wherein thou canst oijtain it. 

Dost thou seek pleasure in this transitory 
scene? Behold how the rose expands its glo- 
ries before thy eye: k>ok!^t8 bloom already 
fadeth! 

The gales of Arabia waft their exquisite 
odours to thee, and the spices of the' East 
breathe their perfumes around thee. 

Bat there is a time, when the zephyrs of 
Arabia will play in vain for thee, and the 
spicy odours of that land wUl float for thee, 
in vain— • 

When thy €ye shall tio longer be open to 
contemplate the spangled csmopy of the hea- 
vens—when the moon shall traverse her lu- 
imtious course, by thee uBBOticed. 

Mortality sounds the gwfWl lesson in the 
tmof man, ^^JMeditate on l}eath!^'--»8iB(x 



his first great errour, this is th6 language she 
has dailv proclaimed. 

But the tumults of a busy world turn him 
aside from the voice of Wisdom, and he will 
not ponder the depths of futurity. 

How often does youth suddenly descend 
into the silent tomb! In the morning of his 
day, man k removed from, us, — in the career 
of usefulness, he disappears from our view ! 
He leaves Admiration gazing at his depar- 
ture; and Humanity mourns the obscuration 
of the splendour of mental endowment. But 
what are the endowments of the mind, if 
guilt tarnish their lustre? What are the 
brightest talents, if they are not consecrated 
at the altar of holiness? 

At the approach of that hour, when the 
Angel of Death shall lay his hand upon thee, 
wilt thou rely on thy own merits to save thy- 
self from perdition? Wilt thou call up the 
transactions of thy past life before thee, and 
suspend salvation upon them? ^ 

They shall weigh as nothing in the ^'balance 
of the sanctuary:" thou shalt hide thy head 
abashed, and call on darkness to conceal thee: 

To cover thee from the lightnings of His 
presence, before whom all things are an 
atom, and the distant corners of the universe 
tremble in homage. 

Child of my bosom! Son of my strength ! 
Remember the days that have gone by, and 
let the experience of the past teach thee Wis- 
dom. 

When thou hast languished on the couch 
of sickness, apd the terroursof the Lord have 
been upon thee, then did aspirations after 
holiness arise; then did the tears of repen- 
tance flow; and the vanity of the world was 
naked before thee! 

Then didst thou promise and covenant 
with Him, whose promises were never yet 
broken, that if thy days should be lengthen- 
ed. His commandments should be preserved 
inviolate in thy bosom, and that the praises 
of Him, who " in wrath remembers mercy," 
should ever dwell upon thy lips. 

But when the roses of health again bloom* 
ed upon thy cheek, and thy eyes again spark- 
led with vivacity, the terrours of death hav- 
ing fled from thy view, how didst thou/or- 
get the vows which were then sealed in thy 
heart — how hast thou again turned to the 
voices of thy seducers! 

Will the Lord always plead with man ? 
Will He dways stretch out the sceptre of 
His mercy to the children of disobedience? 

Pause and tremble! for He may never re- 
visit thee with the day^pring from on high. 
He may never again pour out the streams of 
His consolation upon thee. 

But the days of darkness and the nights of 
MOTOW mity agaia Jioyer over thy head^ Des- 



pair will harass thy pillow, and the arrows 
of Anguish rankle in thy heart. 

And when thy weeping friends will stand 
round thy bed, and Humanity shed unavail- 
ing tears of regret and bitterness, thou wilt 
exclaim with the dying Hadrian, "Alas! my 
soul! thou pleasing companion of this body ! 
to what unknown region art thou flying, thou 
fleeting thing, that art now deserting it? 

Now, all trembling, fearful and pensive, 
what has become of all thy former wit and 
humour? thou shalt jest, and be gay no more!" 
Son of Mortality! listen to the lessons of 
Wisdom; before the candlestick be removed 
from its place, or *Hhe golden bowl be broken 
at the cistern." 

Those who in heahh perform the promises 
of sickness, who steadily run the race that is 
set before them, shall be delivered from the 
bondage of corruption: 

From the chains which fasten them to 
earth, and obstruct the faculties of the soul 
from soaring to spiritual objects. 

While the wicked are pierced with many 
sorrows, and darkness, as it were the dark- 
ness of Egypt covereth their spirits, there is 
joy for the upright in heart. 

When the storms of Fearfulness assail 
thee, and the blastsof Adversity howl around 
thee, then how sweet it is to rest on the Rock 
of Ages, — ^'* how soft to lean on heaven!" 
When the arrows of misfortune pierce thy 
heart, and the stings of conscience sink deep 
into thy soul, how solacing it is to know that 
"there is a balm in Gilead, that truly there is 
a great Physician there!" 

When the syren voice of Pleasure seduces 
thy wayward spirit from the path of perfec- 
tion, and the alurements of temptation are 
spread before thee, how delightful is it to 
experience, that through patience and long 
suffering virtue' is perfected, and through vi- 
gilance and prayer temptation overcome. 

Here the soul is oftentimes depressed by 
the infirmities of mortality; but the lucid rays 
of Hope win irradiate this dark scene of. 
probation, and buoyant on the wings of Faith, 
It shall soar to regions of Love, which is mv 
bounded, and of light, inef&ble! 

Here we must fight in an arduous warfare 
—here struggle with Sin, and ccmteiid with 
Sorrow, but diere is a land where we shall 
rest in peace. There shall be no more sigh- 
ing, but tears shall b6 wiped from every eye. 
There roses bloom without thorns, and 
there pure rivers of nleasui:e eternally flow. 
Son of Immortality! seek that blissful land! 
For that happy land is Heaven. 
. The life ^t now is, is a shadow^ which 
soon fleeth away; but the life which is to 
come, is fixed, and abideth forever! * 
tet^4ay-8tar^ then^ anse ui thy hear^ 



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240 



THE RURAL VISITER* 



for the hour of thy glory is come: weakness 
is made strength, and from humiliation b 
perfected praise. 

Cheerfully obey the commands of Heaven, 
and the beautiful way of Truth shall ever be 
before thee. 

Knowest thou what is TVuth? or hast thou 
heard the voice of the Divinity within thee? 

She is the everlasting source of light, and 
the fairest of the powers of heaven. 

Eternally glorioas and immutable, she dif- 
fuses through the mind her divine rays, and 
the soul rejoices in the splendour of her ef- 
fulgence. 

A guide and preserver through Life's 
chequered scenes, she leads us from the 
thorny paths of vice, and opens our eyes to 
the snares ot temptation. 

In her sparkling mirror we see the infi- 
nite importance of eternal objects, and sub- 
lunary things are but as vapours which a little 
while tarnish its surface, and the Sun of 
Righteousness disperses them! 

O worship at her shrine, and minister at 
her altar; and the ardour of piety shall in- 
flame- thy bosom — ^the glow of devotion shall 
fill thy heart. 

When thou art sunk by despondency, and 
fearful amidst thine enemies, look up in the 
darkness which envelops thee, and thou shalt 
see thy Leader and Deliverer. 

HE shall appear before ihee, at whose pre- 
sence the sting of death is taken away, and 
who is triumphant over the terrours of the 
grave! 

For in those days, when all flesh shall trem- 
ble, and the spirits of Evil shrill be watching 
for their prey, the armies of the Most High 
will attend His progress: — Multitudes will 
flock round His standard, and tens of thou- 
$Ands minister before Him. 

He shall come, conquering all the enemies 
•f the Eternal; with the sword of the Spiiit 
will He gain the victory, and with tlie shield 
0f Faith will He bring salvation! 

Those who love Him will He preserve 
jfrom the fiery darts of the wicked, and Ht: 
will come before His father, wearing on His 
lireast plate the names of His redeemed. 

^^Holiness to the Lord," shall be inscribed 
iipon them, and they shall be as polished 
Btones in the temple of the Most High, bear- 
ing the stamp of the King of Kings! 

He will stretch His adorable canopy of di- 
vine love over them, and enable them to sing 
jhe song of Eternal Salvation. Saying, 
*' Worthy is the Lamb, that was slain for us! 
Worthy is He, who sitteth on the throne ! 
dory be to the Lord our God — our Leader 
and Deliverer, forever and ever!" 



rOR THB BUBAL VIIITBB 

There is no one among the numerous phi- 
losophers of antiquity more worthy of com- 
mendation, mott entitled to all our praise, 
than Cicero. Socrates was a great, a won- 
derful man, but from the confiuned nature ot 
his education, he could not have attained 
that high standing which belongs to Cicero. 
In firmness and resolution he is the superi- 
9¥r but in erudition, in the variety ot de- 



partments in which he exercised his facul 
ties, in genius and in the benefits he confer- 
red Upon posterity, he sinks to a great infe- 
riority. — Plato was a philosopher of the 
highest excellence, distinguished by all the 
mdd and benevolent virtues which add har- 
mony, and grace, and loveliness to the hu- 
man character. But his ideas are sometimes 
too theoretick and visionary, too remote 
from the occurrences of common life, to 
prove of general utility to mankind. Aris- 
totle was possessed of an understanding un- 
commonly vigorous and acute, but he has 
refined into so many metaphysical subtleties 
many of the subjects of which he treated, that 
the mind is apt to be bewildered and lost in 
the mazes in whichlie involves common sub- 
jects. The restraint in which modem ages 
were so long held, by the trammels imposed 
by their enthusiastick veneration for Aris- 
totle; the injuries occasioned by his logick and 
metaphysicks in narrowing the researches of 
those under his subservience, have been so 
multifarious and enormous, that it would be 
difficult to determine, whether his writings 
have upon the whole proved of any real ad- 
vantage to hterature and science. But Cicero 
has evinced the powers of his mind, the re- 
sources of his understanding, the acuteness of 
genius united with the soberness of a well re- 
gulated judgment, improved and rendered 
doubly useful by the benevolence of his dis- 
position, and the virtues of his heart. — As an 
orator I estimate his merits as but little infe- 
riour to Demosthenes; as a philosopher he 
has no equal in the heathen world. He has 
inculcated the purest sentiments, the most 
honourable feelings, with a vehemence and 
force which prove diat he spoke the virtu- 
ous dictates of an honest heart. His philos- 
ophy is not sublimated and refined into a 
visionary idea of perfection, nor rendered 
unintelligible by niceties anc^ specious distinc- 
tions: it is plain, practicable and useful. He 
descends into common life, he mixes with 
common men, and inculcates rules adapted to 
every situation, and everj' emergency. Some 
of his opinions seem to breathe a spirit of 
virtue, much superiour to what might be ex- 
pected in his times. In addressing his son 
Marcus, he advises him "never to commit an 
act that is not obviously innocent and virtuous; 
for," observes he,**virtue always shmes with 
a clear and steady light, and when we cannot 
positively determine whether an act is virtu- 
ous or criminal, it is better to omit it: fer we 
have in this vtry obscurity, rea$on to believe 
that itisnot altogether proper." Inhis treatise 
respecting friendship, he makes avery correct 
distinction between a man's profession and 
his practice; between the dictates of his head, 
and the actions of his life. **Be careful,** says 
he,** how you prefer the wisdom even of him 
whom Appollo accounted the wisest of mor- 
tals, to that of Catoj for it was the opinions 
of Socrates that were praiseworthy; hut Ca- 
to*s merit consists in his actions^— in his 
course of life." 

The biography of Cicero, may be studied 
to great advantage by everv youth. The 
actions of his life, his indefatigable industry, 
his zealous unshaken patriotism, his inflexi- 
ble integrity^ and his magnanimi^ of mind 



itdeaiafaBabai 



■«» 



on frequent occasions, offer the most power- 
ful stimulants to the enthusiasm and fervour 
of youth. While from his works, sentiments 
of the most extended benevolence, fortitude, 
and true philosophy, may be gathered in a- 
bundance. If we compare him with many of 
our modern philosophers, how much superi- 
our does he stand. While Hume, Voltaire, 
Rousseau and Gibbon, possessed of means of 
arriving at certain conclusions, have rejected 
the light of revelation, and involved them- 
selves in more than heathen obscurity, Cicero 
with only the torch of reason, has surpassed 
in profound research, in pure morality, and 
in sdid real reason, their most elaborate ani, 
acute investigations. 

90B THB BUBAL VISITER. 

RUAPSODIST. 

No. VI. 

And sBy'ftt thoa still, there is % pNOwer to savef 

*« Willing to sBve, and able to deliver^ 

From sin and all its eonsequent distress? 

To raise the meanest, to bring down the proud. 

To melt the hardened, pun(> the vile, 

Destroy the power of Jiabit, and turn out 

** The strong man arined*^ from every human son! 

That groans in bondage? Where shall this be fbuodi 

Spontaneous offspring of Heaven*s love to manf 

Proposed by Heaven, or sought in ardent prayer? 

How does it operate; by magick power 

To man^s dim sight incomprehensible? 

Attainable by all? Or are there some 

For purposes inscrutable decreed 

To do and undo, all their wretched lives? 

To feel th« force of virtue, and admire 

Her beauty, but to tarnish it the more? 

Permitted just to raise their feeble views 

Towards »♦ The regions of unclouded peace;*' 

Bid «urth adieu, and wiog their daring flight 

Even to the regions of the midway air. 

And think they hear the sound of heavenly hazpst 

Then, by old habit's powerful force assailed. 

Then* grovelling views tum'd downwaidt headlong 

pUingS* 
*' In filth to rest, to revel in the mire*' ■ i 
Recovering thence, bemoan the dire relapse 
With unavailing tears; or, urged by shame 
Or by despair impelled, their wrathful hearu 
Turn from the skies, and seek relief in ruin? 
Is this the state of those whom heaven would sav^ 



FOB THB BtTBAL VISITBB. 

Again I revisit the woods. 

Again hear the birds on the sprays 
Turn my ear to the murm'ring floods* 

And weep ai the close of the day. 

Yes— Nature constrains me to weep, 

Foj* the loss* wc so late have sastainMg 

In solitude, mournful and deep~ 
My heart is distressfully pain'd. 

Though odours are wafted arotmd. 

From blossoms, so fresh and so fair; 

Though Spring has enameird the ground* 
And sweetness pervades the whole aii^ 

Yet the tears of affection will rtdl, 

Asa tribute that's due to her worth; 
And the sigh of regret from the soul, 
- In low. pensive sorrows, burst ibrth. 

But why breathe this murmunng strain^ 
As she fervently sought to be blest. 

Her lot of probation and pain 

Is changed for a inaosioiiof cest« 

On the side cf religion and truth, ' ' 

So may / >* ith wisdom engage? 

'Twill be my preterver in youth, 

And a gadand of pe^e in old age. 



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Ml 



THE NEW JERSEY BIBLE SOCIETY. 
No. XI. 

Extract of a ktter from a respectable officer 
in the Royal i^avy^ dated Sept. 30, 1809. 

" This unsettled way of life has given me 
many, very many,-opportunities of scattering 
the scriptures for and wide: in England, 
Scotland, and the Islands; Denmark, Nor- 
way, Portugal, Italy, SJ)ain, and even in 
Barbary, I have given away the wt)rds of 
eternal life; and most earnestly do I pray, 
that when the Son of God shall come in the 
clouds of heaven, with power and great glory 
to reap the harvest of the world, it may then 
appear that the seed was not scattered in 
vain. The number of Bibles and Testa- 
ments Ihave distributed has been very great, 
and it has been to me a most pleasing em- 
ployment to distribute the holy scriptures to 
the people of those nations in their own 
tongue, aijid has often given rise to the most 
delightful thoughts when I have seen the 
people eager to catch the book from my 
hands. Never did I give one away that was 
not received with the most grateful thanks, 
and, as I freely received, so I also freely 
gave to all degrees and descriptions of per- 
sons, from the pope's nuncio to the parish 
priest among the clergy; and from a grandee 
to the poor cobler working in his stall. I 
shall never speak of fruits or effects, because 
I might be mistaken: no matter who scatters 
the seed, or who waters it afterwards, it is 
God only that can give the increase — worms 
know nothing of the harvest fruits! 

"I have indeed received many marks of 
personal regard from the people to whom I 
gave the scriptures, and from none more 
than from the pope's nuncio, who kindly in- 
vited mc to his palace,, and even sent a gen- 
tleman on board the ship I dien commanded, 
to request I would come on shore and stay a 
few days with him; but this 1 was unable to 
do, my duty not admitting of my leaving the 
ship longer than a few hours at one time. 
The old man, in ordev that he might not for- 
get who gave him the Testament, took his 
pencil, and wrote my name in it, and the 
jiame of the ship, &c. 

"The night of darkness, thick darkness 
that may be feit, is far spent, eternal praise 
and thanksgiving unto God for it ! and the 
glorious undouded day of gospel light is at 
hand— -Have not your eyes seen its dawn? 
By it we are eaabled to work in the vineyard 
of our Master, and it is our bounden duty 
to be up and to be doing the ser\ ice he re- 
quires us to perform to his people, who are 
at present at a distance, and out of the way, 
and to carry His name, which is salvation 
from God to man, throughout the world." 

Ixtractfrom two letters of the R^v. Francis 
Perrott^ datedferseyy May 29, 1809. 

** The 100 French Testaments I have re- 
teived safe, and you may be sure that I shall 
do all I can to give them as wide a circula- 
tion as possible. There are already several 
sold, and many more wiU, ere kmg, be dis- 
posed of. I have heartily recommenced it 
frqjtti the pulpit aathe rery beat translation , 



which ever appeared in our language. The 
more I read it, the more I am delighted 
with it, for it is my humble opinion that there 
never was a translation of the New Testa- 
ment into French, which renders the mean 
ing of the Spirit of God so well as that 
printed by the British and Foreign Bible 
Society. 

"The Societ)' has my best wishes; and the 
prayers I offer daily to the Great Director 
are, that it niay prosper and still increase." 

** It 13 with much [Measure I can now in- 
form you, that the 100 French Testaments 
you were kind enough to send me are nearly 
all disposed of. The demands for them in- 
crease, and I fear I shall fall short| should 
vou deem it proper to appoint me steward 
here over any quantity you would be pleased 
to send, I would undertake the office with 
the greatest cheerfulness; and not only that, 
but I should, as Ihave done, give them all the 
publicity in my power. The above 100 Tes- 
taments I recommended both from the pul- 
pit and by all die newspapers in the Islands.* 
It is to the British and Foreign Bible 
Society that our churches look for a supply 
of the word of God; I hope they will not be 
disappointed. When I gave out from the 
pulpit that there was a Jjrobability that we 
should be supplied with the whole Bible from 
that quarter, you could have seen the silent 
tears of joy fall from many, at the thought, 
that one day they would be possessours of 
that invaluable treasure. Many ar^ anxious- 
ly waiting for the completion of the Old 
Testament in French ; when it is finished. 
Oh! pray forget not Jersey! we have two 
thousand hearers, and not among them two 
hundred Bibles. Oar church as well as my- 
self thank you and the Society, most cordi- 
ally, for the kind and unmerited care you 
have hitherto taken of us. Had it not been 
for you, we might have been without even a 
New Testament. Oh may the Lord our 
Saviour reward you a thousand fold in this 
life, and give you the enlarged desire of 
your souls, thp salvation of our poor perish- 
ing fellow creatures!" 

Extract from a letter of the Rev. C. F. Bfueck- 
hardty one of the Moravian Missionaries 
among the Esquimaux' Nation^ on the coast 
of Labrador J dated Nain^ Aug. 16, 1809. 

After having stated that the labours of the 
Missionaries had lately been attended with 
peculiar blessing in their three settlements, 
in Nain, Okkak, and Kopedale, and that 
fourteen heathenish families had joined the 
mission from the north, ke thus proceeds: 

*♦ I feel very grateful for your encourage- 
ment immediately to proceed to the transla- 
tion of the New Testament, or any one entire 
part of the same, into the Esquimaux lan- 
guage, and for the assistance promised us on 
the part of the British and.Foreiffn Bible 
Society towards print'rag such a work; 1 shall 
certainly do my best in this matter, if it 
please God to spare my life and health. 
That it i» rather a difficult task to translate 
the Holy Scriptures into the Eskimo lan- 
gusige which contains no words for spiritual 



and heavenly things, you c^n easily conceive; 
the more so as we are possessed of no auxi- 
liary means, with the exception of a dictioi]i- 
ary compiled by ourselves. 

**I have read with astonishment what the 
Bible Society has already effected, and what 
a noble zeal for the propagation of the word 
df God animates its members. The account 
you gave me of its last general meeting has 
exceedingly gladdened my heart;— to oh- 
serve th6 variety of Members that compose 
It, in point of situation, rank of life, and 
religious denomination, to sec them meet 
together with one fixed determination, te 
spread the word of God far and wide, to see 
them assembled as one heart and one soul,— 
is such a grand scene, that I cannot help 
wishing to be an eye witness of the same* 
Truly the prayer ot our Lord is now fulfil- 
ling) — ^*Let them all be one, as thou, father,, 
art in me, and I in thee, that they also may 
be one in usl" 

* 

From the secretary of the Holborn Sundmj 
School, dated March 5, 1810. 
"Inclosed I hand you a check, value 
;^.21 10, being the amount of voluntary con- 
tributions of the teachers and children of the 
Holborn sunday school for the year ending 
February 1810, which you will have the 
goodness to pay in, for the use of the British 
and Foreign Bible Society. With regard to the 
mode of collecting, it is continued, as stated 
formeriy, each teacher contributes one penny 
per week, and those children, who wish it;, 
give one half-penny per week, and we have 
the gratification to see several of the old 
scholars, who have been honourably dismis- 
sed the school, cheerfully petitioning to add 
their litde mite weekly, to the common 
stock. May thp divine Author of the Bible 
continue to succeed the efforts of your truly 
honourable society, till all the inhabitants of 
the globe shall possess the precious word of 
God, and by the influence of the holy spirit^ 
savingly understand it!" 

Extract of a letter from Mrs. , dated 

Clifton^ February 3, 1810. 
" Having lately accompanied a friend, 
who visited die prison at Stapleton, for the 
purpose of distributing a large number of 
French Testaments furnished by your bene- 
volent fund, I was informed of the following 
circumstance : Five of the French prisoners 
testified so strong a desire for hearing and 
reading the word of God, that they subscribe 
ed one half-penny each, for the loan of a 
Testament during twenty-four hours. It 
was their usual custom for <»ie of them to 
read while the others listened, no doubt with 
the most earnest attention. This circum- 
stance of itself sufficiently shews the excel-* 
lence of your admirable Institution.'* 

Extract of a letter from a naval officer ^ dated 
Portsmouth^ April 13, 181 a 

" I hrg leave to acquaint you, that I de- 
livered 300 of the Spanish Testaments oa 
board the Spanish frigate at Plymouth. The 
officers received them with great avidity^ 
and said they were extremely obliged to their 
good fnetid^ that^ sent thein^ and I believe"* 



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THE tlURAL VISITER. 



they felt so* A man belonging to my boat, 
^vho understands the language, heard one oi 
the Spanish seamen say^ *God be thanked, 
we shall now have the means of all becoming 
christians'— or words to that purport. 



TOK THE RUIAL VISITER. 

Oh! liavc you seen fresh drops of dew. 
From new blown vilets streaming; 

When o'er their breasts of purest blue, 
The early sun was beaming: 

Or if along the blue serene, . 

YouVe se^n Heaven's clear light glowing; 
When not a shadowy cloud- was seen. 

And nat a breath was blowing: 

And if upon the waives blue breast, 

You've seen a moon-bcant lying. 
When day's last light had ting'd the west. 

And night's sweet song was dying: 
Oh', then you've seen the melting hue. 
That paints my Dej:.ia*s eyes of blue. 

ROMEO. 

PRAYER FOR FRIENDS AT SE V 

Ohi thou great Power! whose mighty arm 
The furious tempest can disarm, 

And hush the waves to peace; 
At whose command the impetuous roar, 
•Wbkh furious lash'd the trcn»bling shore, 

At thy dread nod does ccve. 

While numbers perish on our shore; 
Amid the elemental roar, 

Thy wonted succour lend; 
Stretch thine Almighty arnri to save. 
From hidden rock, or yawning wave. 

The brother and the friend* 

Whether beneath the scotirging rays 
Of India's sun's meridian Maze, 

Their eager course they urge, 
Or o'er the high Atlantick waves. 
Their quivering prow the fury bravci 

Of the impetuous surge- 
Teach them to put their trust in thee, 
Whom swelling waves and boisterous sea 

Implicitly obey: 
So shall they reach that happy shore, 
Safe moor'd» where storms obtrude no more. 

Through all eternity. 



LINES 
Written in consequence of the author's being reproach- 
ed for not weeping over the dead body of a female 
frieiKi 

BY ASTHONV PASi^TIN, ES^tTltB. 

Cold drops the tear which blazons common woe— 
What callous rock retaSns its chrystal rill? 

Ne*er will the woften'd tnould its liquid show: 
Deep 8i«k the waters that ar^ smooth and stBll 

Oh! when sublimely agonia'd 1 stood, 

And memory gave her beauteous fame a sigh, 

WhUe feeling tiiumph'd in my heart's warm blood, 
Gnef dra^ the offenng ere it reach'd the eye. 



A Dublin tiapcir contains the foDo^ittg pa- 
ragraph; "Yesterday Mr. Kenney, returning 
to town, fell down and broke his neck; but 
happity J-eccivcd no farther Jama^el^ 



ANECDOTE OF GEN. WASHINGTON. 

One Reuben Rouzy, of Virginia, owed the General 
about lOOOl. While President of the United States, 
one of his agents brought an action for the money- 
judgment was obtained, and an execution issued against 
the bodv of the defendant, who was taken to ja»l — 
He had'a considerable landed estate, but this kind of 
property cannot be sold in Virginia for debts unless at 
the direction of the person. He had a large family. 
and, for the sake of his children, preferred lying in jail 
to selling his land. A friend hinted to him, that pro- 
bably Gen. Washington did not know any thing of the 
proceedings, and that it might be well to send him a 
petition, with the statement of the circumstances. He 
did so—and the verv next post from Philadelphia after 
the arrival of his petition in that city, brought him 
onlers for his immediate release, together with a tnll 
discharge, and a severe reprimand to the agent for 
having acted in such a manner. Poor Rouzy was in 
consequence restored to his family who never laid 
down their heads at night without presenting prayers 
to heaven for their beloved Washington— Providence 
smiled upon the labours of the grateful family, and in 
a few years Rouzy enjo) ed the exquisite pleasure of 
being able to lay the lOOOl. with interest, at the feet of 
this truly great man. Washington reminded him that 
the debt was discharged. Kouzy replyed, the debt of 
his family to the father of their country, and preser- 
ver of theit parent could never be discharged; and the 
General, to avoid the pleasing importunity of the grate- 
ful Virginian, who could not be denied, accepted the 
money— only, however, to divide it amongst Rouz} s 
children, which he immediately did. 



REMARKABLE OCCURRENCE. 

« There i» another and a better world.'* 

Gmnadiut, a physician.a man of eminence!^ piety 
and charity, had in his youth some doubts of the reali- 
ty of another life. He saw one night in a dream a 
youn^ man of a celestial figure, who bade him follow 
him. The apparition led him into a magnificent city, 
in which his ears were charmed by melodious musick, 
which far exceeded the most enchanting harmony that 
he had ever heard. To the inquiry from whence pro- 
ceeded those ravishing sounds, his conductor answer- 
ed, that they were the hymns of the blessed in heaven, 
and disappeared. Gcnnadnis awoke, and the impres- 
sion of the dream was dissipated by the transactions 
of the day. The following night, the same young man 
appeared, and asked whei her he recollected him?— The 
melodious aongs which 1 heard last nighty answered 
Gennadius. are now brought again to my memory- 
Did you hear them, said the apparition, dreaming or 
awake?- 1 heard them in a dream —True, replies the 
young man, and our present conversation is a dream; 
but where is your body, while 1 am speaking to you? 
—In my chamber. But know you not that your eyes 

are shut, and that you cannot see? My eyes, indeed, 

are shut.— How then can you see? Gennadius could 
madce no answer. In your dream, the eyes of your body 
arc clofi^ and useless; but you have others, with which 
you see me. Thus, after death, although the eyes of 
your flesh are de])rived of sense and motion, you will 
remain alive, and capable of sight and of hearing by 
means of your spiritual part. Cease then to entertain 
a doubt of the great truth of another life after deathl 
—By this occurrence, Gennadius affirms that he be- 
came a sincere believer in a future state. 



INTELLIGENCE. 

3>6XStTldK. 

R<»ort says, a vessel has arrived in the Chesapeake 
wijh Mr. Pinkney and Mr. Foster on board. We have 
not heard it cdn finned. 

The damage sustained by the late fiire in Ne(w-York, 
itrongtUy esthnared at 350,000 dollars. 

The Hon. John Cotton Smith has been appointed 
Lieut. Oovemour of Connecticut, foir the ensuing year, 
by the Legislatnre now hi session. 

The frigate Consritutioii, Gapt. H«H, has sailed from 
Boston for Annapolis, where, it is said, she will take 
Mr. Barlow and suite On board and proceed to France. 

'fhe 8e»tt>f g o Vcft un^ of the stiit« of Ohio is to 



be permanently fixed at a new town, to be buHt in the 
county of Franklin, on the west bank of the river Sci- 
oto, to be called Wayne^ in honour of the gallant h^- 
1*0 of Stony Point. 



We hear a person has arrived at New-York fron^ 
Gottenburg, whicli he left the 4th of April, and in- 
forms, that both Russia and Sweden had refused to 
adopt Bonaparte's Continental System; and further, 
that the trade of Russia had become free to all nations, 
and exchafige 6n England had risen very modi in con- 
sequence. 

Arrived, the ship Ganges, capt. Day, 33 days from 
Lisbon, having sailed the 27th of April; the night pre- 
vious to which a general illumination took place in 
consequence of the receipt of Official Intelligence of a 
Peace having been concluded between Great Britain 
and Russia. The effect which this event ma> have 
upon our conimerce to the Northof Europe, and upou 
our relations whh England is not easily pradiciedU— 
though we may reasonably apprehend it will not be 
wtxy favourable to either. 

LATEST FROM MONTE VIDEO. 

By the arrival at Baltimore of the ship Sidney, in 63 
days from Monte Video, we learn that the Govemour 
of Monte Video marched (it was supposed, against 
Buenos Ayres) the day before she sailed, with 600 
men, and was to be joined on his march by 400 more, 
and had sent to solicit troops from the Portuguese go- 
veniment. Paraguay was considered in a state of re- 
volution. Buenos Ayres was closely blockaded, and 
no vessels of any nation permitted to enter. The for- 
ces of the Junta at Buenos Ayres were supposed to be 
about 2000— most of their troops had been on expedi- 
tions to the imeriour— that which had gone against the 
Portuguese had been repulsed. 



MARRIED, 
On Saturday evening, the Ist instant, by 
the Rev. Charles H. Wharton, Mr. WIL- 
LIAM M^MURTRIE, Merchait, of Phi- 
ladelphia, to Miss ELIZA COXE, daugh- 
ter of William Coxe, Esquire, of this city. 



Just Published, 
AND FOR SALE AT THIS OFFICE, 

FRAGMENTS, 

I^ PROSE AND VERSEy 
BY MISS ELIZABETH SMITH. 

WITH SOME ACCOtJKT OF 

HER LIFE AND CHARACTER, 

BY H. M. BOWDLER. 
With an elegant copper-plate -tengriWHig- 

NB. The above may also be had at James 
P.Parke^s Bookstore^ No. TSj Chesmtt'Streety 

Philadelphia. 

' • "^ ' — ■ — • 

SADHLERS LOOK HERE ! ! 

One hundred and twenty bushels of first qiiaCty 

DEER'S HABis 

For sale by A. F. i4VFBERRT« 

Jfurlingtan, Mwf 14, 1811. . 

% 
Published Weekly^ by D. Allinsoti^ Ej? Co. 

Pxke two Dolbtfs 8tety.<^ C«it8 (or VtkKSm ii«f 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



** Him» man ; kumaniiuW a me alienum futo" — Mm and his cares tome a man^ are dear. 



VOL. 



I. 



BUKHNGTON, SIXTH MONTH (JUNE) irth, 1811. 



No. 4,7. 



THE RECORDER. 
NO. XLVI. 

*' Absenee of occupation is not rest: 

A mind quite vacant, is a mind distressed.^ 

CowvsR. 

Could some superiour being, some being 
fashioned after man, but educated in entire 
ignorance of the human race, and of the cor- 
ruptness and misery of the world, take a 
bird's-eye view of the terraqueous globe, and 
behold only the various scenes of misery 
which are always acting upon it; could he 
further by some intermediate spirit be in- 
formed, that these scenes of distress are dis- 
played by a certain magick art^ before the 
view of almost every individual^ however re- 
mot^'t that these individuals are, mind aod 
body, cast in the same mould as the sufFer- 
ei-^ «wwi liable to the very same afflictions; 
what, may we naturally suppose, would be 
his ideas of the state of the world?*-^ Would 
he not most certainly conclude, that there 
existed between the various branches of man- 
kind, the closest sympathy; and that it would 
be as impossible for any part to suffer with- 
out affect'mg the whole, as it would be for a 
member of the body to be diseased, with<jput 
communicating a portion of its suffering to 
otherpartsof the same system?— ^W hat, then, 
would be his surprise, could he at once have 
this partial veil removed from his eyes; and 
be suddenly presented with a view of the 
world <7« it i^t could he behold in the same 
country, nay, in the same district, almost 
within sight and hearing, the horrours of 
war and the miseries of famine, on the one 
hand; and, on the other, the revellings of 
heedless mirth and vanity; would he not 
conclude, (could he be capable of imagining 
deceit) that his informant had deceived him; 
and thiat we were so many detached, insulat- 
ed beings, c^ which no chord in the one was 
calculated to tremble to the vibrations of 
those in another?— Were he now further in- 
formed, that not only we arc thus insensible 
to each other's sufferings, but that, of ninet)'- 
nine hundredths of the woes he beheld, man 
was the cause to his fellow; mi^ht he not 
naturally be led to believe, that, with all our 
boasts of superiority to the rest of animated 
nature, with all our pretensions to learning . 
and knowledge, to refinement and civiliza^ 
tioo, we were not only the most grosa and in- 
sensible, but the most stupid, the most be* 
nighted, the most barbarous and savage part 
of the living creation. But- ** 'twere to con- 
sider too curiously, to consider thus:" We 
will therefore lay aside the purer opticks of 
Hboa imaginary being, and view the si:Jb|}e^t 



over again, through those of firail, finite man. 
—Making, then, all due allowance for the 
weakness of our nature, and our tardiness to 
learn "by the tilings which we stiffer," is there 
not still room for astonishment, that with the 
experience of 4000 years, with the concentra- 
ted light which has been shed upon every 
department of science, and with the still 
more marvellous light of the gospel before 
us, the world should yet have made so litde 
progress in real civilization?— That nations, 
whose established religion is a form of Chris- 
tianity, should not only attempt to reconcile 
defensive war with the tenour of the gospel, 
but that they should even carry this sangui- 
nary system to the extreme of wresting from 
their defenceless neighbours — and without 
compensation, territories to which they (the 
ag^essors) have not the shadow of a title; as 
if the promised reign of the Messiah were to 
spring up, Phcenix-like, without the ordinary 
intervention of means, from the ashes of 
plundered cities and smoking villages; and 
further that amidst these scenes of compli- 
cated wretchedness, '* Amusement'* should 
reign ^ man's great demand!" But let us not 
cast too much shade into the picture of life: 
We will cheerfully admit, that that pliability 
of mind, by which it is enabled so speedily to 
pass from the contemplation of the gloomy 
side of things, to the enjoyment of those lit- 
tle amusements which lie within our reach, 
and are easily attaitied, may have been wise- 
ly intended by a gracious Providence, to pre- 
vent us from being disqualified, by the too 
constant pressure of distressing objects, for 
the cheerful discharge of the ordinary duties 
of life. Were we individually to attempt to 
take the world of human woe upon our 
shoulders, we should be crushed beneath the 
weight; and instead c^ doing our part to re- 
lieve it, we should add our own weight to the 
common burden. Such amusements, there- 
fore, as are cheaply prQcuied,and which tend 
merely to relieve the mind from too close an 
attention to such subjects as would relax by 
overstraining it, may certainly b^ admissible. 
Yet should we, instead of availhig ouioetves 
of recreation for this valuable purpose, (for- 
getting the nature of our situation here, and 
the relation we stand in to th^ great family 
of mankind) endeavour to make amusement 
the imstrpess of our lives, we shall have no 
cause to murmur if we find ourselves punish- 
ed for running counter to the laws of nature 
and providence, by meeting with satiety and 
disgust where we looked for pleasure. The 
life of man is in general snfficiently relieved 
with the meatn of relaxation; 8c if we do not 
find them such, it must be owing to our mis- 
conception of dieir real use, and to a want of 
self-knowledge. We areapt to lay abundant^ ' 



ly too much strestf upon outward circum- 
stances, and to search in these for the causes 
of pleasure, when in fact they are almost ex» 
cluaively dependent on the state of our ra'mds. 
We might, with nearly as much reason, com- 
plain oi the unequal distribution of the light 
of heaven, because-our disordered ej'es were 
not able to discern objects in their true pro- 
portions and colours, as to complain 

With minds *«imnerYed, or indisposed to betr 
The wei^t of objects worthiest oV their ••care,** 

That we did not find, in the simple and natu- 
ral pleasures of life, that enjoyment which 
others feel. In vain, under such circumstan- 
ces, shall we fly to turbulent and noisy joys 
for relief. This would resemble the conduct 
of the Indians in plunging into the river to 
cure the fever attendant on the small-pox.— *• 
Dissipation, as it is very fitly termed, far 
from affording relief to a sickly miiil, leaves 
it more vapid, more in need of refreshment, 
than the most laborious occupations.— -The 
proper remedy in such cases is, not the stim- 
ulant of " Joy seasoned high, and tasting 
strong of guilt," but the tonick of useful em- 
ployment; " I'hat which the Deity to please 
ordained— Time used." 

"Time wisted is existence, used, is Ufe; • 
And bare existence, man, to live oidaioed, 
Wrings and oppresses with enarmous weight.** 

Let US look around, and see who are in 
general the subjects of ennui; who the loud- 
est in their complaints that time hangs heavy. 
Are they not those whom fortune has ex- 
empted fiom the necessity of exertion, and 
furnished with the means of obtaining every 
gratification which wealth can procure; but 
whose minds, by this very exemption have 
been enfeebled, and of course rendered bca- 
pable of relishing any pleasures but such as 
are powerfully exciting? Did the capacity for 
enjoyment increase with the means of procu- 
ring objects, then might the richest manhope 
for the most jJeasure. But the powers of 
human fruition are circumscribed; beyond a 
certain point, riches cannot advance our per- 
sonal gratifications: No art of cookery, no 
expense of provision, can give zest to the 
meal of the epicure ; **the down of the cyg- 
nets of Ganges" caiuiot dispense the sweets 
of refreshing sleep to the frame that has nev- 
er been wearied. It seems to be a law of na- 
ture, that we shall earn our pleasures before 
we enjoy them — The rich, as well as the poor, 
must eat his bread in the sweat of his brow, 
if he would eat it ^ith a relish. It is to be 
regretted then, that men of wealth should not 
more generally endeavour to do for them- 
selves, what the powerfol hand of Destiny 
has done for the mass of mankind. " Tb^ 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



Let Sprightly Pleasure too advance. 
Unveiled her eyes, imclasp'dher Eonet 

Till, lost in Love's delirious trance, 
He scorns the joys his youth has known! 

Let Friendship pour her brightest blaze. 
Expanding all the bloom of soul; 

And Mirth concentre all her rays 

And point them from the sparkling bowl; 

And l^t the careless moments roll 

, In social pleasure unconfincd; 
And conikleoce that spurns control, 
Unlock the inmost springs of mind: 

And lead his steps those bowers among, 
Where elegance with splendour vies) 

Or Science bids her favoured throng 
To move refined sensations rise; 

Beyond the peasant's humble joys, 

And freed from each laboriotis strife; 
Tbete let bim learn the bliss to prize. 

That waits the sons of polished life. 
Then whilst his throbbing veins beat high 

With every impulse of delight, 
Dash from his lips the cup of joy, 

And shroud the scene hi shades of night! 

Then let Despair with wizard light, 
IMsclose the yawning gulph below; 

And pour incessant on hiB sight. 
Her spectered ills and shapes of woe! 

And shew beneath a cheerless shed, 
With sorrowing heart and streaming eyes; 

In silent grief where droops her head, 
The partner of his early joys! 

And let his in^ints' tender cries 
His fondpatemal succour claim; 

And bid him hear, mid agonies, 
A husband and a father's name.— 

Tis done— the powerful charm succeeds. 

His high reluctant spirit bends. 
In bitterness of soul he bleeds, — 

No longer With his fate contends. 

An idiot laugh the welkin rends, 

As Genius thus degraded lies, 
'Till pitying Heaven the veil extends 

And shrouds the poet's ardent eyes! 

Rear high thy bleak majostick hills, 
Thy sheltered valHes proudly spread j 

And Scotia, pour thy thousand rills. 

And wave thy heaths with blossoms red: 

But never more shall poet tread 

Thy airy heights, thy woodland reiga. 

Since he, the sweetest bard is dead. 
That ever breathed the soothing strain! 



INTELLIGENCE. 






SOMESTICK. 




A correct statement of the population of the 


Vmted Statesyjn 1810. 




Yhginia, 




965.079 


Kew-Tork, 




959,220 


Pennsvlvanisk, 




910,163 


j^assachusetts,(pr.] 
Maine, 


1472,040^ 


7007*5 


North Carolina, 




563,526 


South Carolina, 




414,935 


Kentucky, 


• 


406.511 


Maryland, 




380,546 


Connecticut, 




361,945 


Temiessee West, 

East, 


101,367* 


961.727 


Ckorgia, 




252,433 




, 


245,562 


OlMO, 




230,760- 


Vemoat, 




217,913 


Kew-Rampshiftt, 




214.414 


mhode Island, 




76,931 


BcliivaK, 




72,674 


TertitoriaKh^mvmnts. 




Orlennst 




76.556 


Misst89ippi» 




40.352 


Indiann, 




24,520' 


JColumbia, ' 




24,0t3 


JLouifianiw 




20,845 


^^nnois» 




12,282 


'»fe|»Mii 




4,762 



7,238,421 



From the New^Tork Gazette* 

The president of the United States is tired of the 
present state of things. He will soon do something of 
a decisive nature. He waits with anxiety for the arri- - 
val of the Essex; and it is known that he is angry at 
the conduct of the French Emperour. He has lost iicar- 
ly all conRdence in French promises, and will, it is 
confidently expected, convince the world, that the sus- 
picions of his partiality for France are gproundless. The 
readers of this article will recollect this paragraph a 
week or two hence. Mark the above assertions. 

In addition to the above, we are warranted in as- 
gerting. that the president has expressed a wbh for 
the speedy arrival of Mr. Foster— that he would be re- 
ceived with tlie utmost cordiality— and that certain 
points pending between Great Britain and the United 
States, which had been insisted on, would for the pre- 
sent, be waved by our gfovernmcnt, rather than pro- 
crastinate the wished for understandii^. 

We can also state, and we do not apprehend a con- 
tradiction, that there has been no new orders given to 
the comnoanders of our ships of war for the last eigh- 
teen months. 

POaEIOK. 

Arrived the fast sailing ship Trident, Formsui, in 26 
days from Greenock » which port she left on the 5th of 
May. 

Captain F. informs us, it was reported in Glasgow, 
thai Mr Pinkney, the late minister to the court of St. 
James, and Mr. Foster, the new minister to America, 
had both left London previous to capt. F's sailing. . 

A war betweelt France and Russia is confidently ex- 
pected in EnglaiKi 

The American frigate John Adams, capt Dent, ar- 
rived at L*Orient on the 16th of April, with Mr. Er- 
ring, minister plenipotentiary to the Court of Den- 
mark. 

Extracted from a London paper* 
INSURRECTION IN HOLLAND. 

Oppression will drive men mad, and the phlegmat- 
ic k Hollander has at last turned upon the foot that has 
trodden him to the earth Our Dover letter mentions 
the arrival of a lugger from the opposite coast, bring- 
ing the information of' an insurrection having taken 
place in Holland. The populace ajre sakl to have risen 
upon the French garrison at Rotterdam and other pla- 

• ces— to have diiianiied them and taken possession of 
the forts and batteries. They had 9ent emissaries to . 
other parts, atid the flame was rapidly spreading. 

Another letter we have seen, mentions tlve arrival 
of a person from one of the islands in the Scheldt, which 
he left on Saturday morning. He has brought the 
report that the Amslerdam post had been stopped in 
consequence of a serious insurrection in Dordt and Am- 
sterdam, where the people lud risen on the soldiery, 
and overpowered them. Nothing more was known 
in the island to which we have alluded last Saturday, 
beyond the interrupthm of the post, and the cause be- 
ing an insurrection. 

Since writing the above, we have heard that all 
communication between Holland and Walcheren had 
been cut off for three days, and that the French troops 
wei« in every place overpowered. A Dutch populace 
is noost ferocious. 

It is also said that insurrectionary movements had 
taken place in different parts of France, and that great 
discontent had been marafested by all ranks on ac- 
count of the general distress. The pope's ill treatment 
and captivity have given great offence. The common 
people conskier Bonaparte's son as illegitimate, the 
pope having excommunicated him, and consideicd 
the divorce and snbsequent matriage of Ben»>arte as 
aiegal. 

From Frances-Street* 

Capt. Harlow, in the Calpe, arrived at Boston on 
Thunday the 7th inst. from Brest, as a Cartel, with 
distressed American seamen, &c. He informs that 
the United States frigate John Adams arrived at L'- 
Orient the 15th April. That M. L'Escaliar, Bona- 
parte's Consul General, had taken his passage in the 
Roee--in^kK>m, for New- York. That many Ameri- 
can dtiaens continued detained in France, destitute of 
the neoeasaries of life And that although the French 
papers pretend to den^ the fact, the French continued 
to take and condemn American property. 

Several colamna of one Faris paper are occupied by 
an official repiMt in favour of some experiments which 
had been made on the extraction of sugar from red 
beets. I 

The marriages in the Russian Empire in one year, 
according to an official statement Just publishedf Wftre 
810,095; births, 1,301,^3; deaths, 849,046. 



MARRIED, 

On Thursday evening last, in Trenton, by the Rev. 
WUliam Mills, Mr. THOMAS C. STERLING, son 
of James Sterling, Esq to Miss EDITH WETHER- 
BY, both of this city. 

On Tuesday evening last, by the Rev* Mr Alexan- 
der, Dr. WILLIAM FREDERICK HOUSTON, of 
Columbia, (Pennsylvania,) to Miss AMY HUNTER 
M*CORKXE, of Philadelphia. 



BURLINGTON AQUEDUCT COM- 
PANY- 

At an adjourned meeting of the company held in 
the City Hall, on the 8th day of the 6th month, 1811, 
It was resolved,* that the following reguiaiions be ob- 
served in all contracts hereafter to be entered into for 
the supply of water. 

ist. That-if the agreement be signed by tbc proprie- 
tor of tbe property to be su{>plied with water, said 
proprietor be subject to the payment of the rent at the 
end of each year. 

2d. That if ihe contract be with Ae tenant, the 
yearns rent be paid iu advance. 

3d. That if the property be sold during the lease, 
the rent be paid by the person removing to the end of 
the current )ear. 

In case of refusaluo comply with the above terms, 
or in default of payment of the rents now due for 
three weeks from this date, the water is to be stopped 
agreeably to the provision made by the leases entereti 
into. 

The secretary is directed to notify the cititena bf 
publishing the above resolves in the Rural Visitor. 

Extracted from the minutes of the company. 

Wm. ALLINSON, Secretary. 

RY£ FOR SALE. 

About two acres of excellent RYE for sale, adjoii. 
ing the property of Elias Streaker, on Green Bank- 
will be fit to cut the first of next month. 

For terms apply to 

JOHN HULME. 

Barlrngton, June 13, 1811. 

yust Publishedf 
AND FOR SALE AT THIS OFFICE, 

FRAGMENTS, 

IN PROSE AND VERSE, 
BY MISS ELIZABETH SMTTa. 

WITH SOME ACCOUNT t)r 

HER LIFE AND CHAJRACHBR, 

BY H. M. BOWOLER. 
With an elegant copper-plate engnoring. 

NB. TJte above may also be had at yamss 
P.Parke^s Bookstore^ No. M, GhestM-strectj 
Philadelphia. 

. ■!, ' ■ ■ i ij i i ii I.I *■ I II * 'I m 1 9 1 

SADDLERS LOOK HERE!! 

One hundred and twemy bnsheb •£ fint ^m0^ 

DEER'S HAIBt 

For tale by ^ A. F. LUFBEIOtT. 

BurHngUm, May 14, Ml, 

Published Weekly, by D. Atlinsdn &f Co. 

ciTT or BVaLntGTQIC, »« 1. 

Price two dollars stxty-two cents £ar Volnmt &rtt» 
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** Homo Mum ; humani nihil a me alienum putoJ^^ — Man and his cans to me a man^ are dean 



VOL. 1. 



BURLINGTON, SIXTH MONTH (JUNE) 2>tth, 1811. 



No. 48- 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XLVIL 

It has frequently been remarked, by those 
conversant with mankind, that a large pro- 
portion of the happiness, enjoyed in this 
world, is rather imaginary than real. Hope 
appeals to be the vivifying principle of our 
nature; the powerful magician, who endues 
us with an elastick energy, and urges us on 
to the most toikome enterprises. The mind 
in lookbg forward into futurity, decks every 
object with the ** rainbow hues" of felicity, 
and seizes with rapture upon " the gayest, 
happiest attitudes of things.'* Tiirowing 
aside every sombre object, which might tend 
to shade this enchanting picture, we select 
from the varied stores of creation, those par- 
ticular charms, which can aid most effectu- 
ally in animating and beautifying the pros- 
pect. The most attractive graces arc height- 
ened; the warmest glow is increased; and 
each individual object, while in itself, it de- 
lights the imagination, adds vivacity and 
grace to the enchanting whole. In our ex- 
cursions into the regions of fancy, we are 
constrained by no limits, we are entangled in 
no intricacies, we are impeded by no difficul- 
ties. Our wishes, and our imaginations soar 
with equal wings; and expand with the same 
views. Nothing is wanting to complete the 
perfection of the rich scene, in which we de- 
light to wanton. While from the peculiar 
struaurc of our being, we forget that the en- 
chantmg creation is imaginary, and less sub- 
stantial than the fleeting vapours which sail 
across the morning sky. Lost in the magick 
beauty of the prospect, we dwell on it with 
as fond a rapture, and as entbusiastick an en- 
jojmient, as if it were painted on the substan- 
tial canvass of actual truth. No frequency 
of disappointment in these visionary scenes 
of fancy can subtract from the delight they 
afford, or recall our minds to the less fasci- 
nating pictures of real life. They fasten 
themselves upon the mind, envelope the un- 
derstanding with a veil impervious, though 
imperceptible to reason, and seem the gayer 
the more gloomy is the reality. As the 
lightning, which flashes athwart the midnight 
heaven is more vivid than the blaze of day; 
so the visions of fancy are more luxuriant 
and various, in proportion te the depth of 
the misery in which we are involved. 

The enjoyment of these splendid appear- 
ancesy has often excited the contempt and 
the disgust of men, who styling themselves 
philosophers, arrogate the privilege of decid- 
mg upon the pursuits and enjoyments of their 
fellow creati.rcs. Absorbed in abstruse spec- 
ulationsi their finer feelings are impercepti- 



bly blunted, and the pleasures of imagination 
and of social benevolence, seem trifling and 
insipid. They possess not that luxuriance of 
fancy, that pure perception, which open such 
inexhaustiblesources of enjoyment to others; 
and they condemn those pleasures in which 
their turn of mind and of disposition, prevent 
them from participating. Without indulging 
in these indiscriminate and general recrimi- 
nations, equally objectionable, perhaps equal- 
ly* erroneous, as those which excited them; 
a few considerations upon the real merits and 
demerits appertaining to this species of en- 
joy ment, may not be altogether uninteresting. 
From the mstitutions of civil and political 
society, and from the general tenour of our 
inclinations, formed in subservience to the 
wise and extensive scheme of creation, it re- 
sults that the directions given to our talents 
should be different. The wants of society do 
not require that all men should be acute lo- 
gicians, or politicians, or confine their labours 
to mathematical investigations; nor would 
the minds of every individual be adapted to 
these pursuits. There must be numbers who 
are removed from the necessity of following 
these avocations from lucrative views, and 
whose inclinations would lead them to differ 



suit of that soothing balm, which can minis- 
ter comfort to their sorrows, they too fre- 
quently mistake the poisoned chalice of crim- 
inal indulgence, presented in an enticing 
manner to their lips, for more rational and 
more innocent enjoyments. Thev grow in- 
toxicated with the Circean draught, and re* 
linquish or debase all the exalted character- 
isticks of their nature. To draw them off 
from these fatal and delusive indulgences, to 
afford them a consolation without any dele- 
terious qualities, has been the obvious end of 
the Creator, in granting us these pure and 
mnoxious sources of real pleasure. By their 
means the most corrosive wounds are heal- 
ed, without any painful suppuration; the vir- 
tuous inclinations of the heart expanded into 
more vigorous life, and those dispositions 
which constitute the sources of all tne amia- 
ble and benevolent virtues, are cherished and 
increased — 

They sink into the rankUng heart. 
And if they cure- not, lull the smart. 

No hidden vijper lies concealed beneath the 
flower, to intuse a deadly poison into our 
wounds. 

To raise objections to these opinions, by 



ent objects. The objection then that menSreasoning from the injurious consequences 



who indulge in the pleasures of fancy, mis- 
pend their time, and direct their abilities to 
unworthy ends, by proving too much, falls 
to the ground. 

The genius which enables men to gratify 
those desires which the natural bias of their 
dispositions prompts, is found to belong to a 
numerous and respectable class of men: Oth- 
ers are endued with a greater robustness and 
strength of intellect. Reasoning then from 
the general laws of nature, as evidenced in 
her operations, the same deductions which 
establish the propriety of exercising the lat- 
ter powers, will in like manner justify the 
making use of the former. Providence^ it 
is to be presumed, has not implanted the pro- 
lifick seeds of taste, nor infused the elastick 
spring of imagination into the minds of men 
with a careless hand, nor without designing 
them to promote the great object of our be- 
bg. They were intended to augment the 
general happiness of the whole, and the feli- 
city of individuals : To diffuse light in the 
more extended orbit, and to expand the soul 
with their vivifying heat, in a more contract- 
ed sphere. 

In this state of being, exposed, 9s we are, 
to afflictions from every quarter, encompassed 
by dangers, and surrounded with difficulties, 
which we have neither strength to repel, nor 
ingenuity to elude; men are too prone to seek 
a solace for their distresses, in those gratifi- 
cations that fan witliin their reach. la pur- 



that result from an inordinate excess in their 
indidgence, or from particular imfavourable 
instances, is erroneous and illogical. £very 
amiable propensity, every exalted talent 
which belongs to man, if cultivated and 
nourished to the exclusion of every other, 
will produce the same effects, and lie expos- 
ed to the same objections. From the organi- 
zation of our natures, it is evident that all 
our propensities, inclinations, passions, and 
abilities, are only component parts of one 
great being, connected together by intimate 
and mutual relations. These must all be 
exerted in systematick order. If we attend 
exclusively to one part, others must be neg- 
lected, and confusion and disorder will inev- 
itably follow. As*in a watch or Qiher piece 
of mechanism, tRe i»rious springs,f)alances, 
and wheels are nicely adjusted together, and 
each part is adapted to perform some fcxed 
movement, in order to effect the ends for 
which the instrumenl^ was constructed*«7aU 
which must be destroyed if Vfc do not pre* 
serve uniformity and regularity; so with res- 
pect to ourselves unless the balance is re- 
tained, if we retard some principles, and un- 
duly accelerate the action of others, the man 
will be irregular and so far from the perfec- 
tion of which his nature b capable. 

To argue against the tuility of any plan, or 
institution, because it has occasionally faifcci 
in its operation, is alike objectionable. Nil 
prodes^ quod non bedere gpssit idem. Rea- 



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i48 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



son and the most exalted powers of the un- 
derstanding have, at times, been employed 
for the promotion of evil, and have been sub- 
servient to the most nefarious projects: Are 
they therefore to be considered as useless or 
pernicious? The atmosphere we breathe, has 
often been the medium by which the most 
deadly poison has been conveyed into the 
system; Are we therefore obstinately to re- 
fuse to imbibe it jnto our lungs? The lan- 
guage of one of the most eloquent and Hlus- 
trious orators of modem times, is so happy 
:in answer to this mode of reasoning, that 1 
trust no apology will be requisite for insert- 
ing it. " It is the nature of every thing that 
is great and useful, both in the animate and 
inanimate world, to be wild and irregular ; 
and we must be contented to take them with 
their alloys which belong to them, or live 
without them. Genius breaks from the fet- 
ters of criticism, but its wanderings are sanc- 
tioned by its majesty and wisdom, when it 
advances in its path. Subject it to the crit- 
ick, and you tame it bto dulness. Mighty 
rivers break down their banks in the winter, 
sweeping away to death, the flocks which are 
fattened on the soil, that they fertilize in the 
summer. The few may be saved by em- 
bankments from drowning, but the flock 
must perish for hunger. Tempests occasion- 
ally shake our dwellings, and dissipate our 
commerce; but they scourge before them 
the lazy vapours, which without them would 
stagnate into pestilence.** •* ^. 

ATHENIAN LETTERS. 
ORSAMES TO OLEANDER. 

Herodotus put into my hands the other 
day, a very extraordinary and remarkable 
piece of history that the priests of Memphis 
iiad given him, among the memoirs which 
they had selected for his iise out of their 
archives. The character of Hazia affords 
an example of many excellencies, which even 
the Athenian ladies might copy with great 
advantage to their conduct. 

THE STOKY OF HAZIA. 

Sesostris, willing to show his subjects how 
far he had extended his conquests, brought 
with him into Egypt numerous families of 
the East, instructed in the righteous doc- 
trines of Keyomar. Amongst diese was the 
house of Besach, belovecifor his justice and 
strict pi^Y and in the estepm of men most 
worthy tne protection i5f heaven. But he 
was not exempt from the common calamity; 
he was led away captive with his faroil}, 
which he had the mortification, before he 
reached Memphis, t# see reduced to his 
daughter, Hazia, who was too young to be 
affected with her misfortunes, and himself, 
whose wisdom and experience taught him to 
submit to them. His two sons who were in 
the vigour of youth, and had been trained up 
to virtue and courage, had not yet learned 
how to suffer; and partly through impatience 
of the restraint^ diey were under m their 
journey, and grief at the prospect of slavery, 
fell into violent disorders, which might have 
admitted a remedi[j but the^ refused to ac- 



cept it, alleging in excuse for themselves, 
that they did not make a cowardly revolt 
from the station in which Providence had 
placed them, but retifed at his call to the seats 
of bliss, from a life altogether dishonourable 
to themselves, and unprofitable to the world. 
Besach, upon his arrival at Memphis, found 
that his reputation amongst his countr^^men 
had stood him in some stead; as he was pla- 
ced above the ordinary rank of slaves, and 
employed about the king's household. The 
death of his sons, however, hung heavv upon 
his mind; and the consolation he found in his 
surviving daughter, was much allayed by pa- 
ternal anxiety for her welfare. He thought 
honourably of his family, and wished her an 
education suitable to it; but he'^espaired of 
that, at a time when he with much difficulty 
procured her the necessaries of life. He re- 
solved, however, not to be wanting in that 
material part which himself could supply; he 
early implanted in her bosom such maxims 
as would be most serviceable when she came 
to consider her condition; the seeds of humil- 
ity, courage, and chastity. The forming of 
her mind was his peculiar care; nor did he 
neglect instructing her how to express it with 
propriety and grace. He did not pretend to 
contribute the ornamental parts or* a female 
address; nor was he solicitous whether she 
attained them or not, since without them she 
was less exposed to obsen'ation. Neverthe- 
less, the growing virtues he had stored her 
bosom with, insensibly affected her whole 
caniage, and gave a polish, beyond the pow- 
er of art, to her person; for a graceful mien 
is the natural result of a cultivated mind; and 
where that is wanting, the refinements of a 
|COurt are only specious, and want their pro- 
per foundation; they are artfully put on to 
represent such qualities of the mind as are 
not to be found in it. Hazia had a look of 
great modesty, which is so amiable in the 
sex, and no wonder, since she had been train- 
ed up to that virtue. She had an engaging 
simplicity in her countenance; for she had 
been taught no artifice. Her conversation 
was pleasing, because it flowed from humani- 
ty and reason. Her gesture and aspect were 
easy and becoming, because nature had not 
been wanting to her, and she had been care- 
ful not to deviate from it. Had she been 
introduced into an assembly of the highest 
£g}'ptian ladies, her behaviour would have 

g'ven no offence; and had the assembly been 
rmed of ladies from different courts,though 
she would have differed something from all, 
it is probable her carriage, which was mostly 
the result of nature and virtue, would have 
bid fairest for their common imitation. 

The foresight of Besach, her father, and 
her own retired life, had not concealed her 
from the notice of Meneth, a young gallant 
at court, who waited an opportunity of doing 
a service to Haran, the minister, that he 
might have some pretence of begging so 
small a boon as one of the slaves of Sesostris. 
Besach. knowing the defenceless situation 
of his beautious ward, was continually on 
the watch, and not a little troubled to find, 
that young Meneth divided all his time be- 
twixt those walks which Hazia frequented, 
and an assidHOus attendance upon Uamn* 



His fears were too great not to affect the 
composure of his mind. Hazia perceived a 
surprismg change, without suspecting any 
addition^ ground for ic; and would frequent- 
ly retort his own precepts upon him. "Fa- 
ther, (she would say,) you have taught me 
that misfortunes are the best school; that to 
repine is'to upbraid Heaven; that the neces- 
saries of life are few, and every thing else 
may be supplied by cheerfulness and content. 
How is it -that you retract your doetrines^ 
and make me suspect their reality? Will you 
show me so ill an example, as to yield to your 
sufferings; and deprive me not only of your 
life, (to which your cares will soon put an 
end,) but even of the pattern and principles, 
which I have onjy to rely upon, if Providence 
should make me an orphan as well as a 
slave?*' Besach was affected beyond expres- 
sion with such discourse, and dissembled bis 
concern as well as he could; and whenever 
he perceived his gloomy thoughts were like"^ 
ly to get the better of him, he alwa3's retired 
from her company. He seldom could compose 
himself to rest till it was late; and frequency 
spent the time of sleep in uneasy reflections 
and broken soliloquies, wandering about 
the porticoes and private walks of the palace, 
and at his return pretended he had been em- 
ployed in some service by»the officers of the 
court. His melancholy apprehensions had 
taken possession of him one evening, when 
he sat down under a l6w dark arch, (which 
led to the apartments of the slaves,) rumina- 
ting on the miseries of his country, particu- 
larly of his own family, and the dishonour 
which seemed pointed at his daughter; when 
unexpectedly he saw a man glide across the 
court, and make directly towards the king's 
apartment. At first he thought it was only 
a creature of his own melancholy imagina- 
tion, because he knew every body witliin the 
bounds of the court was at rest at that hour, 
except the guards; who durst not, without 
some good reason, move from their posts. 
He indulged his curiosity so far, however, as 
to step gendy after him, and soon found he 
was not deceived; he was near enough to 
perceive the man lay a poniard down at his 
feet, and with great facility loosen the bar^* 
of a window, with an instrument he had 
brought with him for that purpose. Besach 
apprehended nothing less than a desperate 
assassination of the king: whereupon he drew 
toward him with the utmost caution, and, 
under favour of the shade, and the man's 
eager attention to his design, he got near 
enough to snatch up the poniard, and pre- 
senting it to his breast, "Villain, (said he,) I 
will not suffer a great prince to fall by the 
hands of an assassin.'' The man fell trem- 
bling at his feet, and was going to beg for 
mercy, when the guards, who heard the out- 
cry of Besach, flew towards them in an in 
stant. Besach delivered him into their 
hands, and returned home to his daughter, 
fully purged of his melancholy by this lucky 
accidem; and with the greatest cheerfulness, 
" Hazia, (says he,) I hope you are now out 
of the reach of a danger which I durst not 
so much as acquaint you with yesterday. 
That .courtier whom you observe in youi 
walk| atid about our lodging, Ainks you no: 



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TilE RURAL VISITER. 



249 



without beauty, and intends to ask Haran to 
oUige him with so small a favour as one of 
the king*s slaves." She was going to declare 
how much more eligible death was, than such 
a stain to her virtuous family, when her fa- 
/♦her assured her,that by to-morrow she would 
not be in the disposal of Haran himself, if 
Sesostris was not the most ungrateful of all 
princes. Upon which he acquainted her with 
the happy turn that his aflfairs were likely to 
take, which gave them both a most agreeable 
^ectation of the event. 

(To hi cmtHnutd.) 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

Extracts from Christian Authors^ by no 
means singular, 

" I have the honour. Citizen Minister, to 
transmit to you,*' &c. — " It appears that the 
enemy had from 200 to 300 killed, and 500 
wounded." — " The 4*2d Scotch regiment 
suffered prodigiously." — ^"The 42d Scotch 
and the 90th, thought to surpass themselves: 
They were cut to pieces."—" But that gene- 
ral being killed, our cavalry retired, having 
sabred all it met in its passage."—" Some 
English officers assured me they never saw 
such carnage. The men fought o»ly with 
the bayonet, and pulled each other by the col" 
lar.^^ — ^" This day was most dreadful for the 
enemy." — ^" He left from 8 to 900 dead on 
the field of battle; and had 1500 wounded." 
— " According to his own calculation he had 
lost 6000^ killed, wounded, and taken, from 
the time," &c. 

Occurrences of the above description, re- 
cited in the above manner, are not uncom- 
mon among those called Christians. Should 
any of the untutored children of nature, the 
uncivilized inhabitants of the woods, be so 
impertinently curious as to inquire who 
Christians are, they may be mformed, that 
" Christian" strictly means, a follower of 
Christ; for an account of whose life, doc- 
trines, Bnd death they are referred to the 
New Testament; and if they cannot there 
discover, that bloodshed and devastation 
were principal objects among those which the 
Founder of Christianity came to promote; if 
they cannot therein behold the Magna Char- 
ta, by which die territories of all Heathen 
nations; nay, the persons of the inhabitants 
are rendered lawful prizes to the most suc- 
cessful of the Majesties, the Most Christian 
Majesties, the Serene Highnesses, the High 
Mightinesses, and lastly of the immaculate, 
the Sovereign Peoples,— of Christendom, 
whenever it becomes convenient, or agreea- 
ble, or expedient to enlarge their borders. — 
If they cannot discern all tliis,with unassisted 
opticks, they may perhaps find the necessary 
aid in some of the commentaries. But, alas! 
I fear if their unprejudiced minds do not at 
once recognise the prominent features of 
Christianity, they never will; for the text is 
undoubtedly very clear. V. 

There would be fewer wan in the worid, if every 
Sovereign would visit bis miUui7 hoi|»it«ls the next 
«Uflr after a btule. 



(jl3r**The Citizens of Burlington and the 
vicinity, are requested to m^ at the Town- 
house, on Tuesday the 25th instant, at four 
o'clock in the afternoon, to take into consid- 
eration the proper measures to be adopted 
for the relief of the sufferers from the recent 
fire at Newbur)T)ort, at which time a letter 
from the Select men of that place will be sub- 
mitted to their consideration. 

BurRngton, June 20, 1811. 



FOtt THE aVKAL VlSIllEB. 

TO THE LADIES. 

Oh! who in a strain full of sweetness and fire, 
Hath taught thee, dear lady, thy duty; 

And gracefully circles her elegant lyre. 
With the roses of genius and beauty? 

And draws such delight from a wand'ringfly— 

Oh! say, dearest lad/, bath any but I? 

And who when the Spiing from the regions of day, 
Hath sprinkled her roses o'er every green; 

In a song soft and sweet as the musick of May, 
Delightfully pictures each charm of the scene ? 

And bids her rich colouring with Nature's to vie— 

Oh ! say, dealest lady, can any but I? 

Let the Visiter boast, if the Visiter dare, 

His columns of exquisite Bctioni 
Let Alfred still sigh, let Ltandtr despsur, 

Or jRbaptaditt warble strange dictiont 
Such songs sink to nothing, such geniuses fly, 
From the fine flowing strain, and the fancy of /. 

MERCUTIO. 



^01 THE aURAI^ VISITEI. 

ANIMATION. 

Animation is a theme with many; 
They talk of it who have it; 
And those who have ii not. 
Hear tell of it with pleasure; 
The beau admires its lustre in the belle; 
The belle's delighted with it in the beau,— 
The reader sometimes gives you 
More of it than hb authon 
And the publick speaker. 
With a deal of animation, 
Thrusts out himself on your admiring gaze, 
While his subject, like Satan, 
Is commanded to get behind— 
Yet animation is a charming thing: 
Who would not wish for animation! 
Poets and painters, heroes too, and lawyers- 
All these have climbed to fame by animation. 
Then surely animation must be eleven 
What clever fellow would not wish to have it ?— 
Yet some there are whose squeamish palates loath 

it: 
Who hear unmoved, the lawyer and the poet; 
Observe, with vacant stare, the glowing canvass; 
Apd are not quite sublimed with feats of arms- 
Strange beings these! poor, creeping, clod-like 

creatures 
To whose dull senses, each attempt to please. 
That «* oversteps the modettx of nature," 
Is tore to give disgust, 

OSCAR.. 



VOa TUB mUBAL VXSICBS, 

'Twas Tiight^the sun had long gone down. 

Had dipt his face in ocean's wave ; 

. Save the lone watchdog and the dook 

The night was silent as the grave. 

Gloomy, and dark, and damp the air. 
The glow-worm only struck the sight; 

Now here, now there, alternate seen. 
The wandering insect of the night. 

The hamlet's light had ceas'd to born, 
The sky became with mourning clad; 

This was'a time that pleased me well, 
'Twas pleasant-^to a mind so sad. 

Defying wind, defying rain. 

The tow'ring precipice I scaled— 
'Twas there, with heavy heart I sighM, 

Twas there, my fate with tears bewail 'd—- 

My God invoked to cot me off. 

And threw me prostrate on thfi ground; 

When quick— a voice, surprised, I heard*- 
Twas sweet! yes— 'twas an angel sound ! 

" Ah ! Edwin rise ! *why do you mourn ? 

There's one that yet shall make yon blcat^ 
You yet shall love, and be belov'd. 

You shall caress, and be caress'd !** 

I tum'd to look— >a beauteous form 
Put forth her hand and clasping mine* 

Bade me arise, and smiling said, 
"I'm Yoi?Rs! no longer then repine!*' 

The clouds now shortly disappeared. 
The moon threw forth her s^ver be^m; 

I started— what am I awake I 
No ! no ! indeed, it is a dream ! 

A dream ? No, no, it cannot be— 

I walk— I feel— it can't be so; 
•A dream! No ! no ! in truth 'tis not— 

It is my Delia's form I know ! 

I dasp'd her— bore her to my cot, 

I vow'd — I sealed it with a kiss; 
Now do we live secure from storms, 

We live — the time is heav'nly bli^i 

Then sound the tabour, sound aloud, 
Let musick rouse the gaping crowd. 

For Pleasure frisks around; 
Let Mirth and Joy begin the dance. 
And every village urchin prance, 

And o'er the green grass bound. 

Sound the cymbol, pipe, and flute. 
Nor let an instrument be mute. 

For Delia now is mine; 
Join hand in hand in cirde round. 
As through the dell sweet sounds resound — 

For, Delia— I am thine ! 

ALFREP. 



THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL, 

AH#THB 

GRASHOPPER'S FEAST. 

Said to have been ^rittea by William Roscoe, Esq. 
M. P. for Liverpool, for the use of his children; and 
set to musick by ord2r of their Majesties for the 
' princess Mary, 

Come take up your hats, and away 1st us haste, 
To the Dattei^y's Ball, and the Grashopper's Feasor 
The trumpeter Gad-fly has summon'd the crew. 
And the revels are now only waiting for you. 

On the smooth-shaven grass by the side of a wood. 
Beneath a broad oak which for ages had stood, 
See the children of earth, and the tenants of air* 
To an evening's amusement together repaur. ^ 

And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black» 
Who carried rhe Emmet, his friend, on his back; 
And there came the Gnat, and the Dragon-fly to9. 
And all their relations, green, orange, and blue. 

And there came the Moib, wit)i her plumage of down, 
And the Hornet, with jacket of yellow and brown. 
Who with him the Wasp, his compifiion, did bring,- 
But chey pro^nls'd that «veniD| to Uy J^y their etisg. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



Then the sly little Dormouse pccp'd mu of his hole, 
And led to the- feast his blind cousin, the Mole; 
And the Snail, with her horus peei»ng out of her shtll, 
Came, fatigu'd with the distance, the length of an ell. 
A mushroom the table, and on it was spread 
A water-dock leaf, which their table-cloth made. 
The viands were various, to each of their taste, 
And the Bee brought the honey to sweeten the feast. 
Whh steps most majcstick the Snail did advance. 
And he promised the gazers a minuet to dance; 
But they all laugh'd so loud that he drew m his head. 
And went in bis own little chamber to bed. 
Then, as ev'ning gave way to the shadows of night, 
Their watchman, the Glow-wonn, came out with his 

light: 
So home let us hasten, while yet we can see; 
For no watchman is waiting for you or for me. 



TRUE POLITENESS. 

A Sketch by a Female hand* 

Politeness is a just medium between for- 
mality and rudeness; it is, in fact, good na- 
ture regulated by quick discernment, which 
proportions itself to cvei7 situation and every 
character. It is a restraint laid by reason 
and benevolence on every irregularity of tem- 
per, of appetite and passion, and accommo- 
dates itseli to the fantastick laws of custom 
and fashion, as long as they are not inconsist- 
ent with the higher obligations of virtue and 
religion. 

To give eflScacy and grace to politeness, it 
must be accompanied with some degree of 
taste, as well as delicacy; and althovigh its 
foundation must be rooted in the heart, it is 
not perfect without a knowledge of the world. 
In society it is the happy raediuni which 
blends the most discordant natures; it impo- 
ses silence on the loquacious, and inclines the 
most reserved to furnish their share of con- 
versationj it represses the despicable but 
common ambition hi being the most promi- 
nent character in the scene; it increases the 
general desire of being mutually agreeable; 
takes off the offensive edge of raillery, and 
gives delicacy to wit; it preserves subordi- 
nation, and reconciles care with propriety; 
like other vahiable qualities, its value is best 
estimated wh^n it is absent. 

No greatness can awe it into servility, no 
intimacy sink it into worse familiarity; to 
superiours it is respectful freedom; to infe- 
riours it is unassuming good nature; to equals, 
every thing that is chaifBing; studying, anti- 
cipating, and attendinkg to all things, yet at 
the same time apparently disengaged and 
careless. • 

Such is true politeness; by people of wrong 
heads and unworthy hearts, disgraced in its 
two extremes; and by the generality of man- 
kind, confittcd iti (he narrow bounds of mere 
good breeding, which is only one branch of it. 



INTELLIGENCE. 



SOMESTICK. 



The captain of a vessel arrived at Charleston from 
Jamaica, informs, that on leaving the istaml he was 
boarded "by aUritish gun brig, the boarding officer from 
-which, on recognising an English seaman on boavd, 
said, that he could not take him, although they were 
iftwant of m«n; orders liavin^ lately been given not 
to ppen any naen out of American vessels. A passen- 
ger inill* tbote irt$tiel> cenfitms this news* 



Bofjaparte says, " The decrees of Berlin and of Mi- 
lan are among the fundamental laws of «iy empire; 
respecting neutral navigation. I consider the flag as 
an extension of the territory. The power which suffers 
it to be violated, cannot be considered as neutral. 

••The fate of the American commerce will soon be 
decided, I wHl favour it, if the United States comply 
with tbo%e decrees. In the contrary case, their vessels 
shall be spurned from the ports of my empire." 

The ship Mentor has arrived ki 30 days from Liv- 
erpool, bringing London dates to the 9th of May, in- 
dtlsive. A British frigate, with Mr. Foster, and the 
American frigate Essex, with Mr Pinkney, sailed 
fiom Portsmouth (England) for America, on the 6(h 
of May. The brig Rose-in-Bloom, Olcotr, from Bor- 
deaux, for New- York, with the new French minister, 
has been taken by British cruiser and sent into Eng- 
land, A body of French troops, in attempting to pass 
through the Polish frontier without permission, was 
attacked by Gen. Blucher and defeated* whh the loss 
of 200 killed, and 800 wounded. The prospect of a 
war between France and Russia strengthened daily. 

Capt, Turner, of the ship Amazon, in 45 days from 
Lisbon, confirms our former accounts, that the French 
were entirely driven out of Portugal. He states that 
Lord Wellington's head-quarters were within foriy 
miles of Ba&joz, which place was occupied by 5000 
French troops. Capt. T. also mentions, that 1-isbon 
had been illuminated for three nights on account of 
the successes of the combined armies; and he adds 
that several British regiments had just arrived from 
England, to reenforce the army of Lord Wellington. 

On the 25th of April, Lord Wellington had captnr- 
ed a detachment of cavalry, consisting of 400. The 
number of prisoners in the hands of the allied armies 
was so g^eat, that many transports were preparing to 
carry them to England. 

A London paper mentions ihe deaths of two vete- 
rans in English Literature, William Boscaw'en, Esq. 
the excellent translator of Horace, and Richard Cum- 
berland, Esq. the justly celebrated Essayist and Dra- 
mattck Poet; both sound scholars and worthy men. 



MARRIED, 

At M«unt Holly, on Sunday evening, the 16th inst. 
by the Rev, Daniel Higbee, Mr. ALEXANDER 
SHIRAS, merchant, to Miss ELIZA BURR-^oth 
of that place. 



(J;J* A year has now nearly expired since 
the commencement of the Rural Visiter; and 
we will thank those who are yet in arrears to 
pay the amount of their subscriptions ^ either 
to us, or to our agents in their respective 
neighbourhoods. 

BURLINGTON AQUEDUCT COM- 
PANY- 

At an adjourned meeting of the company held in 
the City Hall, on the 8th day of the 6th month, 1811, 
It was resolved, that the following regidations be ob- 
served in all contracts hereafter to be entered into for 
the supply of water. 

1st. That if the agreement be signed by the prq)rie- 
tor of the property to be aupplied with water, said 
proprietor be subject to the payment of the rent at the 
end of each year. 

2d. That if the contract be with the tenant, the 
year's rent be paid in advance* 

3d. That' if the property be sold during the lease, 
the rent be paid by the person removing to the end of 
die current year. 

In case of refusal to comply with the above terms, 
or in d^anlt of payment of the rents now due for 
three weeks from this date, the water is to be stopped 
agreeably to the provision made by the leases entered 
into. 

The secretary is directed to notify the citizens by 
publishing the above resolves in the Rural Visiter. 

Extracted from the minutes of the Company. 

Wm. ALLINSOK, Secretary. 



Just Publisliedf 
AND FOR SALE AT THIS OFF4CE, 

FRAGMENTS, 

IN PROSE AND VERjm, 
BY MISS ELIZABETH SMITH. 

WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF 

HER MFE AND CHAfiACTER, 

BY H. M. BOWDLER. 
With an elegant copper-plate engraving, 

NB. The above may also be had at James 
P.Parke^s Bookstore^ No. 75 j Chesnut-street^ 
Philadelphia, 

RYE FOR SALE. 

About two acres of excellent RY£ for sale, adjoin- 
ing the property of Elias Streaker, on Green Bank— - 
will be fit to cut the first of next month. 

For terms apply to 

JOHN HXTLME. 

Burlington, June 13, 181L 

(j3** The following persons^ agents for 
the Rural Visiter^ are authorized to receive 
subscriptions and give receipts on behalf of 
the Editors: James P. Parke^ Bookseller ^ No* 
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Haddonfield; Samuel Colcy or Gilbert Page^ 
Moorestown; Alexander ShiraSy Mount- 
Holly; Isaac Carlisle^ New-Mills; Charles 
Lawrence^ Bordentown ; M*i^ J. Simmons^ 
Chesterfeld; Daniel Leigh^ Allentown; John 
ffandley^ Cranberry; James Oram^ Trenton; 
S. Morjordy Princeton ; Bernard Smithy N. 
Brunswick ; Simeon Drakcy Amboy ; James 
JacksonyWoodbridge; Richard Marshy Rah- 
way; James Chapmany Elizabeth-Town; 
Matthias Dayy Newark; Joseph Bring- 
hursty JVilmingtony (DeLJ Robert S. Smithy 
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tle; John Barretty Esq. Dover: Thomas 
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istown; Gallaudette Oliver y Mi {for d; Wm. 
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lina ; JOS. B. Hintony Washington ; John 
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^^ Homo sum; humani nihil a me alienum Jnito^^^-^Man and his cares to me a man^ are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, SEVENTH MONTH (JULY) Ist, 18U- 



No. 49. 



THE RECORDER. 
No. XLVIIL 



• Tlie worId*s a school 



Oi wrong, and what proficients swarm around! 

Wc musi or imitate, or disapprove; 

Must list as their accomplices, or foes; 

That stains otir innocence; tSU wounds our peace. 

YOUNO. 

Perhaps there are few causes at once so 
general in theiKbperation, and so powerful in 
their effects on the moral character, as the 
disposition so prevalent among mankind, to 
copy after their j)^er8. The causes of this 
cause vury according to circumstances, and 
are different in different minds. In some it 
may spring from complaisance, and too great 
facility of manners ; m others, from the de» 
basing ** fear of man;*' but perhaps in most, 
from false shame and a dread of singularity. 
To advance any arguments in proof of the 
exisience of such a propensity would be a 
supererogation. No one denies it. But the 
extent of Its influence upon the characters of 
individuals, of communities, and of mankind 
at large, nas perhaps not been duly estimat- 
ed. If we take a view of the state of socie- 
ty in different ages of the world, or even in 
dilFcrent countries at the present day, we 
shall perceive, that the moral character of 
man has been very much the creature of cir- 
cumstances; and like a piece of passive clay 
in the hands of the potter, has received al- 
most every form and colour which the ima- 
gination could conceive. Na} , without the 
convictive evidence of history to guide us, 
it would be almost incredible to what a de- 
gree man was capable of deviating from a 
resemblance to the inunaculate image after 
which he was created. It would scarcely 
have ** entered into the heart of man to con- 
ceive," a priori that it should ever happen, 
that mj^ should differ from man, more than 
any one species of animal should differ from 
its reverse;— That beings endowed with the 
same gift of reason, and the same internal 
guide for the regulation of their actions, 
should exhibit such a diversity of conduct on 
similar occasions; such a contrariety of judg- 
ment on the same important points. We 
should at least have looked for uniformity of 
opinion and practice, on points which in- 
volved any serious and momentous conse- 
quences* To what cause then, if not to that 
prolifick source of errour to which we have 
alluded, can this astonishing diversity be as- 
cribed? Between the natural propensities of 
one man, and those of another, we cannot 
discover a sufficient fhherent difference to 
account for the phenomenon. That which 
naiikes the most important difference in cha- 
racters) is the standard which is adopted for 



the regulation of the conduct. Of these we 
may enumerate three. First, human rea- 
son; secondly, the real or supposed opinions 
of others; and lastly, '* that more sure word 
of prophecy," to which- it was the principal 
end of the coming of Christ, to direct us, 
*Mhe word nigh in the heart, and in the 
mouth." — "The light which enlighteneth 
every man that cometh into the world." Ol 
these we may safely affirm, that the last is the 
only permanent and steady rule of life, the 
only straight line, which will not bend to our 
crooked wills; and that of the others, the 
latter is the most vague, and attended with 
the most pernicious consequences. Had 
man been guided by his own judgment and 
inclinations merely, fallible as is the one, and 
corrupt as is the other, it is scarcely possible, 
that in the course of the short period of a 
single life, he could have deviated so far 
from the plainest principles of moral recti- 
tude in his conduct, and so far from Uie dic- 
tates of common sense in his theoretical con- 
clusions, as we now^ee almost whole nations 
do. Instances of great depravity would be 
rare. Every individual coming into the 
world under nearly the same moral circum- 
stances; and setting out from the same point 
at which his predecessors had begun their 
career, there could have been no great accu- 
mulation of Vicke^ness. But when once we 
not only turn our backs upon that divine 
guide, with whose admonitions we are fa- 
voured, but even renounce our own human 
reason, and wholly cede the empire of the 
will to the government of fashion — ^trim- 
ming our words and actions to (it the real or 
supposed opinions of those with whom we 
associate; we lay a foundation for an edifice 
of guilt and errour, to which every succeed- 
ing age is to add to the superstructure; till 
at length the monstrous fabrick falls by its 
own weight; and imprisoned reason is once 
more set at liberty, and exults over the stu- 
pendous rums. Were it not that every age 
and every country has furnished individuals, 
who, by regulatmg, from time to time, their 
weights by the balance of the sanctuary esta- 
blished in their own breasts, have been pre- 
served from the general infatuation, the 
world must surely by this time have exhibit- 
ed a night of iniquity, of which the darkness 
might be Jelt: — But happily for the human 
race, the world has never been left without 
such wavinarks^ as if to call back the errant 
sons of humanity to the point from which 
they had strayed, and to which they should 
endeavour to return. These have been re- 
ceived as was their great nuister, as the turn- 
ers of the world upside down. While they 
** have shone like stars in the midst of sur- 
( rounding darkness," they have not been com- 



prehended of it. The scourge of persecu- 
tion has been lifted against them; the finger 
of derision has pointed them to scorn. Yet 
surely these are they to whom of all men^ 
even the^ followers of pleasure have been 
most largely indebted. For there is none» 
however he may find the restraints of virtue 
inconvenient to himself, that is not benefited 
by the virtue of the community. 

1 have hitherto considered the effects of 
this imitative propensity only as operating in 
a large field, and in a state of society, where- 
in the majority of influtntial characters were 
supposed to throw their weight into the 
wrong scale. It would, no doubt, be also a 
powerful auxiliary to virtue, in an opposite 
slate of society. Yet this does not alter the 
nature of the principle: — It is radically bad: 
Its good effects are precarious: It can never, 
therefore, as a rule of conduct, challenge the 
approbation of the wise. If in our own coun- 
try we do not find any a/arming' evils attend- 
ant on squaring our practice by that of others, 
it is only because the depravity of manners 
which this would suppose, is not yet fashion- 
able among us ; As a nation we are young; 
we have not yet overcome the virtuous influ- 
ence which is derived to us, from the charac- 
ters and views of our predecessors; from the 
peculiar circumstances under which our 
country was settled; from the large field of 
useful industr}^ yet open to all classes of citi- 
zens, and probably from our detached situa- 
tion with relation to the continents of the old 
world. 

But this state of affairs cannot continue 
long. Already has luxury cast her trench 
about us, and laid siege to our virtue. If we 
have not^ strength enough to resist the prac- 
tice of the multitude, when its tendency is to 
lead us into comparatively small irregulari- 
ties, let us at least not plume ourselves upon 
the superiority of our virtue, to that of those, 
who, in a more corrupted state of society, 
may be seduced by the same principle into 
greater deviatidhs from the path of christian 
rectitude. 

The subject before us is certainly an 
interesting one, and one which opens a large 
field for profitable meditation. I shall close 
this essay with a few reflections which seem 
naturally to rise out of it. First, we sec to 
what a degree human reason is capable of 
being warped aside from its original recti- 
tude; and hence we may infer the necessity 
of an immediate revelation. Secondly, from 
a conviction of the powerful influence of ex- 
ample, we may learn the necessity of avoid- 
ing not only what is really evil, but even whgt 
may have the appearance of it, lest we ca Ae 
a "brother to offend." Thirdly, when wc 
consider how uncertain an index, the words 



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THE RURAt VISITER. 



and actions of men often are to their real sen- 
timents, we shall see the absurdity, even 
where the praise of man is our main object, of 
adopting such a standard for the rule of our 
conduct. Lastly, when we recollect how 
often the motives of those, who with the 
most upright intentions, have deviated in 
many respects from the ways of the world, 
have been most illiberally misconstrued; we 
may learn to view the scruples of tender con- 
sciences with christian charity, even though 
they should not appear to us to be well 
founded- P- 



THE REVIEW. 

No. in. 

The author of "The History of Alvira*' 
having discontinued his story, we may now 
suppose that it is ended; (not completed) and 
venture to form some kind of an opinion 
with respect to its merits and demerits. In 
the remarks which I purpose to submit to the 
judgment of my readers upon this exotick 
production, it is not my intention to lead 
them step by step through the story again. 
If their feelings upon reading it, were in any 
degree in unison with those which were ex- 
cited within me, by the perusal of this chao- 
tick farrago, they will at once apprehend the 
full force of the motives which induce me to 
omit a minute examination of it, without my 
explaining them at length. Though these 
motives be in some degree selfish, yet I hope 
it will be allowed that they partake in no in- 
considerable degree of kindness and pity, 
towards those who would follow me through 
this " dreary waste, this depth profound." 
There are some characters, of which a dis- 
tinct idea can be formed only by an enume- 
ration of individual facts and actions, which 
denote some peculiarities; some aberrations 
from the ordinary course of nature. We 
mtist not give a mere outline, but descend to 
point out by a more minute analysis, those 
more inconsiderable points which are neces- 
sary to convey any correct idea of the person 
whom we are representing. Like a flat but 
variegated landscape, in which Atre are no 
prorainejit features by a description of which 
each one will be enabled to fill up the outline, 
and complete the picture within his own bo- 
som; the different objects are so blended, 
and so various, that a bird's-eye view would 
be incapable of enabling us duly to appreci- 
ate its specifick characteristicks. Others there 
are, which can be accurately and completely 
represented by a few bold strokes, which 
while they leave much to the imagination 
of the reader to supply, are nevertheless am- 
ply sufficient to satisfy his requisitions. The 
loftier figures need only be impressed on the 
canvass, and his fancy will be able to form a 
complete idea of the whole picture. As it 
is with human characters, so it is with writ- 
ing : There arc some styles so beautifully 
variegated, so diversified, that no just idea of 
them can be excited by any general descrip- 
.^ttpn. Every sentence presents to us a differ- 
«it shade and peculiarity, which while it 
'oely harmonizes with the whole, bears a 
ifferent impress, After reading the most 



minute and correct delineation of the manner 
used by Horace, by Addison, by Swift, or by 
Goldsmith, in tfieir writings, it would deff 
the most subtle examiner, to recognise the 
description in the writer, or to determine 
with any certainty, whether it were the style 
with which he had supposed himself so well 
acquainted. But the gorgeous splendour of 
Burke, the unrivalled imagery of Shakspeare, 
the gigantick majest}' of Milton, the affected 
pomposity of Shaftsbury, or the wordy gran- 
deur and stateliness of Johnson, may be rep- 
resented to "their very form and pressure,'' 
by a writer whose genius is discriminating, 
and whose language is perspicuous. All 
their " variety is uniformity, every change 
consistency." 

I would rank the author of the " History 
of Alvira'' under the former of these classes. 
It would be requisite to convey a correct 
idea of his style to let him speak for himself; 
to show him m his proper person. Every 
reader would acknowledge that he was ver- 
bose, tedious, vulgar, and stupid : But the 
peculiar manner in which he manifests these 
generick qualities, cannot be represented by 
the finest strokes of the pencil. He presents 
us a new phenomenon in the literary world. 
His thoughts, his language, are all his own; 
or so concealed and disfigured by his peculiar 
manner, that if any of his predecessors were 
to recogxiise their own property among the 
rubbish, they would feel little disposition to 
redeem a carcase so maagled and so deform- 
ed. Their ideas have been so *^ shorn of 
their beams'* of radiant genius, that they 
would never suffer themselves to be impelled 
by the pride of authorship, to venture to re- 
claim the stolen goods. 

His motal is to display the evil tendency 
of female coquetry. This then is to be re- 
garded as the centre of his sj^stem; towards 
which all his digressions should converge 
like the episodes of Homer, or the poetick 
prose of Fenelon's Telemachus. This is the 
great point at which he aims; and which 
therefore every part of hrs story should be 
intended to develop and enforce. This is 
what rational readers have a right to n quire, 
and legitimate criticism a right to detnand. 
To those who have read this tale entirely 
through, I need scarcely propose the ques- 
tion; has the author conformed to this pri- 
mary law of all good writing? Would it be 
possible to divine what he was endeavouring 
to impress upon the minds of his readers, 
from reading any detached portion of his 
story? It seemed like a "lengthened chain,*' 
every link of which was composed of a dif- 
ferent substance, which ct«iveyed to the 
mind every disagreeable idea excited by in- 
consistency, without a single pleasure aris- 
ing froni the variety. 

He has dwelt much upon one subject; 
which is religion. Scripture is cited without 
end. I have read in the writings of some ex- 
cellent men and agreeable authors, that to 
quote Scripture upon ever>' trifling occasion 
was little better than sacrilege and impiety. 
I mean not to impute any wilful dereliction 
from propriety, or voluntary criminality to 
the author before us^ but I cannot refrain 



from applying to^ htm the language of the 
poet; 

«' He may be honest, but he «an't be vritt.^ 

The subject of Religion and the Holy Gos- 
pel, though open to the perusal of all, though 
they should be familiar to every man; should 
not be constantly intruded upon our atten- 
tions, by men who too forcibly remind us of 
the grub-worms ot science, and the pioneers 
of learning: Who throw a shade of that ht- 
tleness and mental contraction which envel- 
ops them, even over th^ splendour and aw- 
ful majesty of religious holiness. The minds 
of men are not so immaculate and pure, that 
religion will shine vnth all its peerless light, 
from amid the dim clouds which ignorance 
or stupidit}' may throw over it. We are a£ 
yet but mortal; and are susceptible oi being 
acted upon even by the grosser particles of 
matter. Our minds have not been so subli- 
mated and refined as to have lost their earth- 
ly texture, their material organization^ and 
to have risen beyond the influence of the 
things of this terraqueous globe.. Such as 
naan is, ^e must take hun: We cannot sub- 
stitute ideal perfection, that visionary state of 
irradiation for his fallen, his faded glory. We 
must endeavour to make the best use of all 
these imperfections; to convert them into 
artificial but strenuous auxiliaries, to raise 
him above their power: We must make them 
"the ladder upon which he may mount to 
greatness.** Under the guidance of these 
ideas, every human passion, every mortal de- 
sire, every corporeal affection should be en- 
listed under the banners of virtue, and forced 
to contend to their own annihilation. We 
should not allow men who affront our visual 
organs, to endeavour to effect this purifica- 
tion. We should commit the enforcement 
of religious precepts to men from whose hps 
truths divine come softened and better ac- 
commodated to our natures: Who may wield 
our mortal passions as a massy sword, to aid 
the cause of holiness and virtue. Let such 
men be the high priests to touch the conse- 
crated ark ; and let no infcriour ministers 
presume to be familiar with an object so aw- 
ful, so sublime, so infinitely removed be}ond 
their confined comprehension. 

In the ** History of Alvira'' the story ia. 
radically bad, and but tediously told. The 
thoughts have little to recommend them, 
and the style partakes but litde of either vi- 
vacity or vigour. Destitute of energ}' of 
mind and of imagination, he ^*- plods his wea- 
ry way" without offering any scene to relieve 
the toilsome sameness of the road: There is 
nothing to rouse, to vivify or animate. As a 
writer then, he is utterly unworthy of praise; 
as a writer of fiction, of im^^inary tale, 
whose object is to interest b)- personification^ 
he is grossly faulty. ''''MortatitaPmexpkviiJ^ 



Louis IV. while before the waUs of Mc- 
nin, in Flanders, was told, that if be chose to 
risk an attack, that place would be taken four 
dsiys sooner than it otherwise would be.— 
" Let us take it, then (said he) four dayi 
later. I would rather lose these ibor days 
than one of my subjects/' 



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255 



B±I 



TH£ N£W-J£RS£Y BIBLE SOCIETY. 

NO. XII. 
Friends 9aA Fellbw-Citizenst 

You have now had laid before fou, a short 
and faint view of what has been already done 
by a union of Christians of all denominations, 
for the advancement of the Redeemer's king- 
dom on earth, by the firm and determined 
conduct of liberal minded men in the city of 
London, under the style of the ** British and 
Foreign Bible Socitty." From this you 
may draw the conclusion as to what may be 
done, by the like exertions on this side of the 
Atlantick, if we are actuated by the same 
i;ospcl spirit. 

Large subscriptions from every individu- 
al are not expected — It is the mite of all, 
professing the religion of Jesus Christ, cast 
into one common tieasury, that will best an- 
swer the end designed. 

Let every one for himself, seriously esti- 
mate the .value and importance of the know- 
ledge of the gospel of the Son of God, to his 
own soviU 5^ well as to the race of mankind 
at large, to whom life and immortality have 
been brought to light by this very gospel; and 
then let him well consider the indispensable 
obligations that are laid upon him, to join in 
every noble exertion to communicate this 
gospel to others, that thev also may be parta- 
kers of the heavenly boon, and join in giving 
glory and praise to him who sitteth upon the 
throne and to the lamb forever and ever. 

What comparison can be drawn, between 
a subscription of three dollars and afterwards 
a contribution of one dollar per annum to 
this nK)st benevolent of all charities, and eter- 
nal life brought to one single soul, that other- 
wise might remain under the power of the 
prince of darkness and die everlasting thral- 
dom of sin and iniquity. Here is a common 
cause calling tor the exertions of all, where- 
in neither party spirit^ nor selfish vie\%s, can 
find the least place. Here, as in the church 
triumphant in Heaven, all of every name, de- 
nomination, language or tongue, may with 
5&eal and activity, free from jealousy, suspi- 
cion, or jarring interests, unite in one of the 
most philanthropick plans that can engage 
the hnman mind. It is no other, than to send 
Kfe, light, and salvation te those who sit in 
darknesss and the shadow of death. It is, 
as far as may be in our power, to cause the 
^ bright shining of the Sun of Righteousness 
to arise upon them with healing under his 
wings." 

Will not the ministers of the gospel, how- 
ever distinguished by name, feel, in a pecu- 
liar manner^ the importance of their united 
eflForts, and prevail on such of their congre- 
£;ation6, who may not choose to join in the 
general subscription, to an annual collection, 
that they also may be indulged, to *'*' become 
fellow-workers with Christ" in this great 
work of spreading the gospel. 

Small collectiOBs in each congregation, 
when brought into one common stock, may 
answer great purposes. 

By this means the important end in view, 
will be more deeply fixed on each heart that 
13 longing for the prosperity of Zion, and it 
will more generally be made the subject of 



daily prayer, that God would bless these unit- 
ed labours of love, to carry the gospel to the 
ends of the earth, that every dark part of it 
may see the salvation of our God. 

The annual meeting of the New- Jersey 
Bible Society is tabe held in the month of 
August next — You have a board of agents 
in your county, who will be the means of 
communication between you and that society. 

Up and be doing then, and shew that you 
have hearts longing and praying for the pros* 
perity of Zion, and that you are ready in this 
way to preach the gospel in all the world. 



THE STORY OF HAZIA. 

Continued from p. 249* 

The next day, upon examination, it ap- 
peared that the assassin had been hired to 
this desperate undertaking by the remains of 
that party who opposed Sesostrjs at his re- 
turn into Eg}'pt, and had set the crown upon 
his brother's head. So he expired in tennents, 
agreeably to the laws of Egypt,- and when his 
body was brought to the banks of the Nile to 
be transported for burial, the inquisitors into 
his life judged him unworthy m a place of 
rest, and left his corpse to be tossed by the 
waves, and exposed to devouring fishes. Se- 
sostris was acquainted with Besach's fideli- 
ty, and ordered Haran to reward him, as one 
who had saved the life of his prince. He and 
his family were immediately declared free, 
and a small employment of some credit in the 
household was conferred on him. Besach 
was well pleased with the security which 
freedom brought along with it; and his itiod- 
eration was satisfied with an access of for- 
tune which raised him considerably above 
want, though not to that condition to which 
his services might reasonably lay claim: for 
Haran did not think proper to reward an ac^ 
don very liberally, the merit of which he in- 
tended chiefly to transfer upon himself. He 
gready magnified his own vigilance and acti- 
vity; he assured the king he had discovered 
the whole conspiracy; and he put many of the 
nobles to death, upon Eight suspicions, or 
private resentment. He pretended to have 
secured the throne to Sesostris, by cutting off 
all possibility of a future revolt, and conduc- 
ted the whok with such a zeal for his service, 
at a time wlien there was some appearance 
of danger, that the king thought he could not 
sufficiently recompense him. .He made open 
professions of his high esteem for him, and 
said, **the enemies of Haran were rebels to 
his crown; and his subjects could not better 
show their loyalty, than by reverencing the 
man to whom he was indebted for his king- 
viom." Such declarations struck the court 
with terrour, who knew the warmth of the 
king'fi temper; and increased the natural 
haughtiness of Haran: he thought himself 
little less than divine, and the subjects of Se- 
sostris approached him with as much awe, as 
a guilty mortal does the altar of the God 
whom he fears to have offended- 

Besach could not but observe to what an 
height Haran had raised himself, upon the 
repiitatioa of a service m, which bionflelf 



had the greatest share, but he showed not the 
least disgust; he paid a reverence to his supe- 
riour station without flattery, which he could 
not practise, though he had been a slave. 
However, as this carriage was not so full of 
obeisance as Haran expected, he seldom 
came into his presence. He wanted not to en- 
large his fortune; and he thought himself se- 
cure in the good will to the king. But it was 
not long before he had reason to know, that 
having merit toward a prince is not a suf- 
ficient guard against those who have free ac- 
cess to him. Haran was easily induced f 
believe that he had not Besach's affections, 
because he knew he did not deser\'e them; 
and was cofirmed' in this opinion by the 
neglect which he thought he saw in his behav- 
iour. He had therefore been sometime de-* 
termined upon his ruin. How to effect this 
was some difficulty: disloyalty was a handle 
he wished for; but all suspicions of that kind 
would appear groundle8S,when charged upom 
Besach. He laid out several contrivances in 
his mind to that purpose, and opened himself 
one day on that subject to Meneth, whose 
incitoation for Besach's daughter was now 
no secret to hijn» Meneth immediately 
suggested a method to him, which gained 
his approbation atonce; for though it was 
exceedingly cruel, it was well disguised. 
" Those people ^said he) whom the king 
brought from the East, have, some of them, 
gained their liberty, and though they enjoy 
the privileges of Egyptians, they repine at 
the servitude of the rest: they are altogether, 
disaffected, and wait for some change to 
their advantage. They are continually instil- 
ling dificulties into the people concerning re* 
ligion, in which they differ widely from the 
natives. They desire nothing more than the 
extirpation of our ancient rites, and the ven- 
erable worship of our ancestors* If you 
would acquaint the king of the danger to be 
apprehended from such a party, he would 
give up the lives of so manj'for the peace of 
his kingdoms; and your enemy woidd fall 
amongst the rest, without being supposed to 
be particularly aimed at." The bloodines of 
this project was no obstacle to Haran's thirst 
of revenge/ he applauds it highly, and goes 
immediately to the king. ^* O Sesostris, 
(says he,) the gods have given you an empire 
without bounds; may the days of your life be 
without number! Your throne is now secured 
against its most dangerous enemies^ the lea- 
ders in the late faction are entirely taken off; 
and I much wonder at the folly of their at- 
tempt, and could not easily conceive what 
numbers they would raise to seize on your 
throne, or attempt any thing great, since 
their depriving you of life (wbidh was their 
first aim) would only have roused your sub* 
jects to vengeance, instead of strengthening 
their party. But I have since discovered, that 
their chief confidence was in the discontent 
of those slaves whom you have brought from 
the East. They are very numerous; and 
though at present low, and by no means dan* 
gerous, yet may not be so easily dealt with, 
if an experienced leader were at their head. 
The security of the crown is my srfe interqiRii 
and the spring of my atnbidon. I am alattn^ 
ed at the distant approaches of danger^ ^siA 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



would even have the possibility of it antici- 
pated." The king's answer was short and 
determinate^ that he" confided in him for the 
suppression of those rebels. 

/ {To be continued.) ' 



FOE THE RURAL VISITER. 

DESPAIR. 

I sav^: him by tlie stream, alone. 

And ha;jgard was his air; 
And on his deathly forehead shone 

The picture of despair. 

Fix*d was his dull and beamless eye; 

And scatt'rcd here and there. 
Upon his ch^k, was many a dye, 

The marks of many a tear. 

His sickly frame he slowly rais'd, 

'And gave a horrid screami 
Back on the world, a moment gaz'd, 

Then plang'd beneath the stream. 

S. T. 



rOR THB BVUAL VISITER. 

Let fame sound the trumpet, and cry—to the war; 

Let glory re-ecJio the strain; 
The full tide of honour may flow from the scar. 

And heroes may smile on their pain: 

The treasures of autumn let Bacchus display, 

And staler about with his bowl; 
On science let Sol beam the lustre of day, 

And wisdom give light to the soul: 

Let India unfold her rich genw to tlie view- 
Each virtue, each joy to improve 
^Oh! give me the friend that I know to be true, 
And the fair that I tenderly love. 

What's glory but prtdel a vwn bubble is fame— 

And riot the pleasure of wine; 
What riches, but troubles? and titles— a namef 

But friendship and love, are divine. 

S. 



BHAPSODIST. 

No. VII. 

No sigh forth from my bosom stoic. 

No tear regretful fell. 
As ^towards my lonely home I looked. 

And bade my friends farewell. 

Not consanguinity's, nor friendship's grasp 

Aught of sympathy impar ed; 
Thus with a cold unfeeling heart 

Homeward I started. 

(No tender wife shall there attend, 
With joy my safe return to greet; 

No kind, anticipating friend 
Come forth sny weary steps to meet.) 

But as I gained the ascending ground. 
And saw the scene at distance fade; 

Friends and relations settled round 
On airy hill, or river-glade. 

The little cords that bound me there, 

Tho* latent in possession. 
Seemed now, as if by distance stretched^ 

To claim a retrogression. 
The muse that moment straight arose, 

Tho' hitherto in churlish mood, 
And offered to record; 
So, having been confined to prose, 

And seldom finding her so good, 
I took her at her word. 

Thus 1 began, when looking round, 
Lo! Tenderness upon.me frowned, 
\ And straightaway fled* 
V *»Th€ muse preferred to nrte" 

Was all that in her hurried flight she said* 



Yet why thus jealous of my love to thee? 
If e'er the muse has claimed the higher seat, 
Lo! now, loVed guardian of my earlier days, 
Humbly she lays her laurels at thy feet. 
She sings for tbeef and take a poet's word. 
Thou to his fickle liiuse, shall ever be preferred. 

Yet if thou go, anticipate my speed; 

Meet me at my ;sequestered, still abode. 
Where C 's salubrious waters flow, 

I ween thou art acquainted with the road. 

There oft at evening's grateful hour. 
When labour's busy oar shall cease; 

Grant me to feel thy softening power, 
Subdue my wearied mind to peace. 

Bear hence the world's delirious scenes, 
Its little broil^far hence remove; 

And raise my soul the joys to taste 
That 6o.w from frieiid^ip, and from love. 



INTELLIGENCE. 



DOMESTICK. 



On Sunday afternoon arrived off Sandy Hook, the 
British sloop of war Sapphire, from Bermuda, and 
yesterday an officer belonging to her came up to town, 
with despatches relative to the affair between the Uni- 
ted States frigate President, and the British sloop of 
war Little Belt We understand they consist of an 
official letter from Admiral Sawyer, inclosing Captain 
Bingham's letter, containing a ver> nninute and cir- 
cumstantial detail of what took place from the mo- 
ment he descried the President to the close of the bat- 
tle, which terminated so disasterously to his ship. — 
The despatches were sent on to Mr. Morier, the Brit- 
ish minister, at Washington^ by yesterday's mail. 

NevoYork Ev Post. 

We have it from the most unquestionable authority, 
that the first number of the American Review has not 
only been republished in Great Britain, but translated 
into the German and Spanish languages and circula* 
ted on the continent. * 

AN INTERESTING FACT. 
A letter from a very mtelligent gentleman in Phila- 
delphia, to bis friend in this city, states, that a few 
days since, ^fracat occurred in the Philadelphia Hos- 
pital, between two persons who were labouring under 
mental derangement. In the contest the skuU of one 
of the conibatants was fractured Dr. Physick was 
called in to trepan the skull. In performing the oper* 
ation, he discovered some superfluous flesh, which 
bore hard upon the brain; and on removing it, the 
subject was restored perfectly to his reason. 

K. Y. Com^ A(h, 

FOREIGV. 

By the arrival of th^ New Galen at New- York, we 
have received English papers to the 10th of May. 

The orders in council continued in full force, and no 
prospect of any amelioration. The British government 
were sending a very powerful fleet into the North Sea, 
under Sir James Saumarez; and about the last of 
April, despatches were sent to all the governours and 
admirals commanding foreign stations, apprizing 
them of the situation of our respective countries, to- 
gether with instructions as to the line of conduct to 
be adopted, in consequence of British property being 
held in detention, under the present non-intercourse 
system. 

Large quantities of American and colonial produce 
were on hand, the prices of which were nominal and 
in no demand.-^The immense amount of specie and 
bullion sent to Spain and Portugal for the support of 
the armies, had caused considerable scarcity; and the 
Bank of England had put an enhanced value upon the 
dollar, which was passed and received at 5s. 6d ster- 
ling. 

The result of opinion of the last Queen's Council rela- 
tive to the state of his Majesty's health, was far from 
being favourable to the king's assumption of the reins 
of government. 

A very large amount has been raised by subscription, 
from all classes of people in England, for the suffer- 
ing Portuguese, whose country has been entirely de- 
vastated by the retreating French armies, whose ex- 
cesses are unparalleled in history. 

From an intelligeru American gentleman, who arri- 
ved from Paris in London on 6ih May, in company 
with Mr John Smith, the American charge d*Affaire», 
It appears that no rel^ixatioii of Bonaparte's licences 



had taken place whatever. Every American vessel 
from the United States with cargoes, were iromedi* 
atel V put under sequestration, and their papers sent to 
Pans. 

We are informed by a gentleman from Havannah 
who left it the 7th instant, that accounts had been r©. 
ceived there from Spain of a proposition being made 
in the Cortes (through the instrumentality of the 
British) and adopted, for abolishing the slave trade; 
the motioti was strongly opposed by the deputies fronj 
Cuba, and had given great umbrage to the Wol\'es of 
that island, as it will to those more contiguous to us. 



(JI3* A Circular Letter from the Select 
Men of the town of Npwburyport has been 
received by the Cori^oration of this City; in 
consequence of which, by direction of the 
Mayor, William Coxe, Esquire, a meeting 
of the Citizens was held at the City-Hall, on 
Tuesday afternoon, the 25th ultimo. The 
Letter was read, representing the distressed 
situation of many of the Inhabitants of that 
Town, by means of thelate dreadful 6re there, 
and the following gentlemen, viz. William 
Allinson, Burr Woolman, Dr. Williaip S. 
Coxe, Thomas Aickman, Thomas Potts, 
George Alien, George West, and Samuel 
Stockton, were appointed to collect contribu- 
tions in this City and its Vicinity, for the re- 
lief of the sufferers. 



DIED, or af lemt dttapjteured^ 
About two months back, Alviea. daughter of Ja^^ 
cob — , of Nova Cxsarea, on the banks of Bea- 
ver Creek. For some time i>revious thereto, •• She 
was retired and absent; her usual sprightliness forsook 
her; she had no appetite for her food; nor taste for 
compan) and conversation: Her health dedinetl; and 
she was much afflicted with a palpkation of the heart, 
and a trembling of the nervesr appeared at times par- 
tially deranged and talked incoherendy; was often ta- 
ken with lainty fitsj and when recovered, wouki look 
wild, roll up her eyes, rivet them on the door," &c. 
We leave the faculty to determine her disorder— 

" 0*er her ashes may thyme and sweet marjoram wave, 
And fat be the turkey that pecks near her grave!" 



Fourteen Full Blooded Merino Ram^. 

Amongst the numerous sales which have taken 
pl»ce in tho different parts of the Uni testates, of Me- 
rino Sheep, none appear so well attested to their origin 
as the above Rams; they are from the celebrated tra- 
velling Flock of the Count de Mautariaus purchased 
from the Junta de Badajoz last season; they are pro- 
nounced b> the judges superipur to any imported i«to 
the United States. It is with pleasure the subscribers 
have it \i\ their power to announce the publick sale of 
them, to the highest and best bidder, on Saturtlay 
morning, the 6th July, at eleven o'clock, at William 
Cooppr*8 Ferry on the Jersey shore, where terms, 
which will be liberal, will be made known at sale. 

THOMAS PASSMORE, Auctioneer. 
T, B. FR££MAN, Commission Merchant. 
June 27, 1811. 



RYE FOR SALE. 

About two acres of excellent RYE fof sale, adjoin- 
ing the property of Elias Streaker, on Green Bank*- 
will be fit to cut the first of next month. 

For terms apply to 

JOHN HULME. 

Bnriington, June 13, 181*. 



Published Weekly y by D. AlHnson i^ Co. 

CITV or BURLINGTON, W. J. 

Frioe two dollars sixt>-two ctnts for Volume firsf, 
payable semt^uuiually m adytnce. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



^ Homo sum ; humani nihil a me aRenum puto.^'^J)ian and his cares to me a man, are dear. 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, SEVENTH iviONTH (JULY) 8th, rtll. 



No. 50. 



THE RECORDER* 
No. XLIX. 

Homines amplius oculia quam anribos credunt: lon- 
j^iim iter est per precepta; breve et efficax per exem- 

Seneca. 

There is a wide and essential diflTerence be- 
tween theory and practice; between the spe- 
culations of the understanding, and the ac- 
tions of the life. It has become an axiom 
among men that for one who wiliyj/fowgood 
advice^ there are ninety-nine who can give it. 
Abstract ideas of duty glide gendy over our 
minds, but they leave no permanent or deep 
impression upon our hearts. We listen to 
them with real or aflFected attention, and for- 
get them as soon as they cease to operate up- 
on our corporeal senses. Even if we apply 
them to particular circumstances and to indi- 
viduals; if we seize upon the moment when 
everything seemed adapted to anient their 
influence and enforce their authority, we shall 
discover that even in this case they produce 
but little morfe efiect. Nor are the reasons 
for it either paradoxical or difficult to be dis- 
covered. A superficial knowledge of hu- 
Sam nature will enable us to resolve the pro- 
sm, and to trace this general mode of pro- 
cedure to springs radically established in eve- 
ry human heart. To give any degree of 
energy to language, to force any decided con- 
viction, or even to give any influence to the 
utmost powers of persuasion ; it is absolute- 
ly requisite that the speaker should at least 
appear to be firmly impressed with the truth 
of nis own assertions. Grounding their opi- 
nions upon this fundamental truth, the ablest 
teachers of rhetorick both in ancient and 
modem times, have laboured to inculcate 
upon their pupils, that virtue and honour are 
essential to constitute a persuasive orator. It 
has been remarked of the celebrated Charles 
Fox, that he produced more conviction upon 
the minds of his auditors by his Apparent 
earnestness and sincerity, than ever he did 
by the cogency of his reasoning, or the ener- 
getick impulses of his commanding elo- 
quence. Indeed, however logical may be 
the deductions, however conclusive and con-, 
vincing the reasoning of speakers, if they 
appear unconvinced themselves, the atten- 
tion of their hearers will be lax and remiss. 

SI iris me fieri, 4<)lendam est 
Primum ipsi tibi. 

Horace. 

But the most credulous, cannot believe that 
ipan sincere in his expressions of the neces- 
g^ of constantly conforming to the dictates 
of virtue/ and Uie regulations of reli^oD, 



when they perceive the uniform tenourof 
his life, the scope of ail his actions, to be at 
direct variance with the language of his lips. 
We must either impute it to a deficiency of 
intellect, which prevents his acquiescing in 
the reasoning which is powerful, and conse- 
quendy believe that these deductions are fal- 
lacious and delusive, or we must believe that 
he is conscious of deceit, and is desirous of 
leading us into errour. Between these deci- 
sions we may hesitate to determine, but the 
consequences upon our minds will be precise- 
ly similar: And it is out of the power of com- 
mon understandings to suggest any other al- 
ternative. • 

It cannot be disputed that we form our 
opinions of the general character of mankind, 
from that portion of them that has fallen un- 
der our own observation. The evidence of 
our own senses can never be rebutted or 
overcome by the hypothetical suggestions of 
others, who possess no means of arriving at 
the truth superiour to our own. Reasoning 
from what is known to what is unknown, is 
so familiar and obvious a mental operation, 
that it extends to all classes, and pervades 
ever\' description and condition of men. 
Children are usually allowed to possess a 
considerable share of observation; and we 
are frequently astonished by the shrewdness 
and depth of their remar|cs. So strong is this 
disposition even in the tenderest years, that 
by a writer whose opinions are entided to at- 
tention, it has been regarded as at the early 
age of seven years, sufording us sufficient 
grounds to determine with probable accuracy 
upon the future character of the man. When 
we make allowances for casual exceptions to 
the rule; for the fallacy of our own percep- 
tions and judgments; and for those devia- 
tions in incidental points which may occur in 
every individual, the idea may be acknow- 
ledged in a considerable degree correct. 
When we observe with how much^facili^ 
the most unreasonable prejudices are imbib- 
ed in infancy; with how much difficulty'they 
are eradicated in after life; how much influ- 
ence they possess in warping our judgments 
in matters to which they bear no evident re- 
lation; and in fact^ow large a portion of the 
character of every individual is made up of 
prejudices, we shall be more disposed to al^ 
low our acquiescence in this opinion. Chil- 
dren are frequently observed to possess the 
same traits of character, the same modes of 
thinking, the same ideas upon abstract points 
which their parents displayed. A celebrat- 
ed and admirable writer remarks, that it is 
easy for parents to instil their opinions into 
the tender minds of their children, but it is 
much less difficult to instil their prejudices: 
If these ideas be correct) cadai one of my rea- 



ders nmy continue the train of reasoning in 
his own breast, and form sonie distinct and 
accurate opinion, as to the importance that 
should be attached to the conduct of parents 
towards their children. 

The principles of filial love and veneration 
are implanted in our hearts by nature, and 
entwine themselves round all our virtuous 
and amiable affections. Reason strengthens 
the silken tie, and knits it more firmly to the 
soul. From the natural tendency of these 
principles, we readily embrace the idea that 
our parents are superiour to all others in vir- 
tue and in wisdom. An implicit respect to 
their sentiments, is regarded not only as rea- 
sonable from the high authority of those who 
entertain them, but as involving an imperious 
dictate of rational duty. We feel that by a 
deviation from this rule, we should not only 
violate the requisitions of our reason, but 
incur some degree of moral turpitude. These 
powerful principles may be fostered or blast- 
ed by the conduct of parents. Though pos- 
sessed of much force, and perhaps tmlimited 
during the early periods of infancy, they 
cannot stifle the impulses of our morsd sense, 
nor totally deafen us to the voice of reason. 
If when our rational faculties begin to ex- 
pand, and are awakened into action, and our 
natural sense of discriminating between right 
and wrong begins to assert its audiority over 
our mind^-«-the demeanour and opinions of 
our parents ean bear to be measured by these 
rulesy our veneration will be augmented, and 
the warm glow of youthful enthusiasm be 
mellowed yet more durably impressed upon 
our souls: Reason and passion will act with 
a simultaneous impulse, and direct to the 
same end. If on the other hand any oppo- 
sition or discordance be observed, the ad-' 
verse powers will strive for superiority, and 
one must be destroyed in its influence over 
our conduct, and the other diminished* 

It appears therefore to be within the power 
of every parent, to determine the measure of 
the morality and vice that sh^ belong to 
their children in mature years. It is not 
merely by setding the limits and points be- 
yond which moral rectitude forbids us to en- 
croach; it is not merely by establishing by 
obvious lines and demarkations the bounda- 
ries of vice and virtue; it is not by verbal 
precepts and exteriour language to display 
the importance of a purity of life; nor by 
injunctioira and commands of the most ric^d 
nature, that they are to labour to obtain uiis 
desirable end: rrecept contradicted by ex- 
ample can produce but <me certain conse- 
quence; an utter contempt for the under- 
standing or the heart of the person from 
whom it proceeds* • * ^ 



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256 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



THE STORY OF HAZIA. 

Concluded from p. 254. 

This was sufficient authority for Haran» 
he formed a decree under the royal name, 
with accusations highly aggravated against 
that miserable people, who were to be put to 
death wherever they were found through the 
kingdom; and the magistrates were strictly 
charged with the execution. He immedi- 
ately communicated this to his confident ; 
** And now, Meneth, (says he,) success de- 
pends solely on ourselves; and the first step 
toward it is lo secure Besach in some safe 
place, lest he apply to the kmg, or by any 
means escape the general massacre.** Meneth 
was glad to remove such an obstacle to his vi- 
cious inclinations, arid undertook the perfor- 
mance of that part. ^ ** I know (says he) his 
constant walk is northward of the city: he 
shall be seized this very evening by faithful 
hands, and conveyed down the river to that 
old castle which stands where the Nile di- 
vides itself." The proposal was well receiv- 
ed, and he went immediately to command 
the execution of it. Meneth was in much 
anxiety for the event, till towards midnight; 
when one of the villains whom he had em- 
ployed returned to inform him, that every 
thing was conducted with secrecy, and that 
Besach was under a guard in the castle. He 
no sooner heard this, than he went to Be- 
sach's house, and almost forcing an admis- 
sion to his daughter, " Hazia, (said he with 
a dejected air,) it is necessity, and your ex- 
treme danger only, that could make me break 
in upon your retirement at so late an hour. 
You must have heard that the court enter- 
tains, some jealousy of your nation; and at 
the hazard of my lite I will venture to inform 
you, that it will not be appeased without 
shedding of blood. Besach, your father is 
apprehensive of it, and is fled, flattering him- 
self that your weak sex would be your pro- 
tection; but I myself saw the decree, which 
enjoins a general slaughter without any ex- 
emption. The hazard I run in this discov- 
ery ought to merit your confidence, which, 
if you please to repose in me, it may be your 
preservation. I can lodge you near the king's 
apartment till the execution be over, with the 
greatest privacy and security to your life and 
honour; and will afterward procure your par- 
don, or the means of escape." Hazia trem- 
bled at this account; she knew not what part 
to suspect; and her father's not returning 
seemed to be a confirmation of it. She wept 
bitterly at the apprehension of such a slaugh- 
ter of innocent people, to whom she was alli- 
ed; besides the uncertainty of her own and 
her father's safety. She had no inclination 
to put herself into the hands of Meneth; but 
there was little room for deliberation, when 
slie had no other protection at hand: she ac- 
cepted, therefore, the offer of being lodged 
near the royal apartment, which seemed to 
► presage nothing dishonourable. She was not 
disappointed to find that he made her fre- 
quent visits there, and teased herewith a pas- 
sion to which she was litdc disposed to at- 
tend^ However, she bore it with indiffer- 



ence at first, because she icncw the palace 
was her sanctutr}', and the guarde, posted at 
convenient distance, might easily be alarm- 
ed. But when Meneth magnified her obli- 
gations to him, and talked to her as one in- 
debted to him for her life, she could iK)t bear 
to be upbraided with a favour for which she 
could make po return. Her condition grew 
exceedingly irksome; and, at the peril of her 
life, she resolved upon an expedient to alter 
it. There was a spacious gallery adjoining, 
adorned with the statues and effigies of an- 
cient kings and lawgivers, and furnished 
with inestimable volumes of priests and po- 
ets, the improvers of human society. Here 
Sesostris spent several hours every day, ru- 
minating upon the duties of a prince and the 
arts of government; and while he was thus 
engaged, Hazia had the boldness to break in 
upon his retirement and throwing herself 
prostrate, in the utmost confusion, and with 
some extravagance of gesture, *' O king, 
(said she,) famed for your greatness of soul 
more than conquest, do not stain your glory 
by destroying the life of a helpless virgin! I 
am the daughter of Besach, who ask mercy 
of Sesostris. Do not shed the blood of him 
whose fidelity preserved you from the hand 
of a vile assassin." The king was disturbed 
at her appearance, and said, " Lady, your 
mind is disordered; your own melancholy 
creates your distress: Besach and his fami- 
ly are ever entitled to my favour." He im- 
mediately withdrew, and ordered that Be- 
sach should give an account of this interrup- 
tion. Haran was greatly alarmed at the news 
of this incident, and going instantly to the 
king, took the advantage of his opinion, that 
Hazia was distracted, and toW him^ she was 
put under proper care till her father's return, 
who was said to be abroad. The king was 
tolerably well pacified with this account. A 
report that Sesostris had made inquiry after 
Besach^ had now reached the ear of those 
who had him in custody; which so terrified 
them, that they fled with great precipitation, 
and left him to his own disposal; which he 
no sooner observed, than he seized the op- 
portunity, and returned to Memphis, where 
all occurrences during his short absence soon 
came to his knowledge. He repaired imme- 
diately to the king, and assured him, that 
the interruption of his sacred retirement 
from his daughter, was the effect of her well- 
grounded fears; that she had reason to ap- 
prehend the worst of ills from the undeserv- 
ed malice of his enemies; that himself had 
just been released from prison, where he had 
suffered great hardships, and expected death, 
without knowing for what crime, or by 
whose order. ** Nor do I expect to prolong 
life by this escape, (added he) your royal 
decree, which pronounces all your eastern 
captives rebels, and destines them to de- 
struction, includes me in that number; and 
I willingly submit to suffer with my coun- 
trj^men, or rather would suffer* for them, 
since I have too much reason to believe my- 
self particularly aimed at, and the sole cause 
of their calamity." 

Sesostris till now was ignorant of Besach's 
relation to that people. Upon this iaforma-^ 
tioui his face glowed like fire; his indigna- 



tion showed itself m aU his gestures; his eyes 
shot forth hesuns like those malignant stars 
that threaten the world with desolation. He 
perceived that he had been abused by his fa- 
vourite; he saw plainly the malice of Haran; 
and his abhorrence of him was raised in pro- 
portion to the abuse of his confidence. He 
ordered him to spend the remainder of his 
life in that miserable state from which Be- 
sach had escaped. He soon found how in- 
differently his preserver Besach had been 
recompensed for his service; and to make 
him satisfaction, assured him, that the high- 
est honours and wealth of Memphis were 
open to him. But Besach's moderation 
would not be prevailed upon to accept of any 
thing, but a small territory near Thebes for 
his captive countrymen; which iheir poste- 
rity now enjoy, and live separate from the 
natives of Egypt in the worship oi tht true 
God. The historians add, that Sesostris 
was so captivated with the beauty and vir- 
tues of Hazia, that he raised her to the 
throne of Egypt; and that the blood of that 
eastern lady flowed m the veins of the Egyp- 
tian kings dirough many successions. 



^ELBCTBD TO)El THE RVRAL VISITkS. 

THE MONITRESS. 

Pastoretta was the daughter of a plain 
country gentleman, whose independent cir- 
cumstances enabled him to give her liberal 
advantages. She passed through all the com- 
mon forms of education, and no expense was 
spared to accomplish her mind and person. 

But her parents, though kind and indU- 
gent, were illiterate, and gave her entirely 
into the hands of her teachers, not pretend- 
ing to dictate in what way she should be 
taught, or how her studies should be arrang- 
ed. In the management of her scientifidc 
pursuits, the too common errour prevailed. 
Every study calculated to elevate her mind 
and abstract her from self- admiration, was 
enforced upon her as a task^ to which she 
must submit, because such knowledge as it 
would furnish was fashionable; and as a rr- 
ward for accomplishing such tasks, she was 
allowed to read romances, novels, and that 
captivaung kind of poetfy which heats the 
imagination, but never mends the heart. She 
abounded ia feeling and in sentiment^ but it 
was that freling aod that sentiment which 
centres in self. It was easy and delightful 
to recline on a bed of roses, and melt in ten- 
der anguish over a dying insect; but cany 
Pastoretta into a sick room where poverty 
and sickness were united; bid her watch a 
dying friend; bid her perform those oflSccs 
which the weakness attendant upon long sick- 
ness and confinement requiie, and she be- 
comes impatient, her nerves are affected, her 
delicate frame is exhausted, and every pre- 
tence is laid hold of that can excuse her atten- 
dance, or free her from care. Yet had you 
told Pastoretta she was destitute of sensibi- 
lity, she would have thought you barbarous. 
She had bean indulged in light reading till 
Ker m'uid was too much enervated to bear the 



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257 



discipline of reason; and as soon as she was 
freed from the restraints of a school, all high 
pursuits were thrown by, and she was care- 
ful to cherish those delightful emoti()ns only, 
which she found luxuriandy described by the 
poet and the^ novelist. When brought down 
bv unprosperous fortune to the gross reali- 
ties of life, despair and suicide ensued* 

The restraints of parental authority, mild 
as it was, early became irksome; and Pasto- 
retta determined by marrying to become her 
own mistress. A husband she was sure could 
not oppose the wishes of a wife like her. She 
promised herself a life of rapture, and be- 
lieved that all distress would cease when 
once freed from a mother's cautions and a fa- 
ther's advice, which she ever considered as 
the oflFspring of prudery, prejudice and affec- 
tation, and treated with open contempt, by 
acting in direct opposition. 

She married at the early and inexperien- 
ced age of fifteen, a gentleman of a fine per- 
son and much good nature, but for whom 
she never felt that deep rooted esteem abso- 
lutely essential to happiness in the marriage 
state. After she commenced house-keeping 
and found that something more must be 
done than merely to recline on beds of flow- 
ers, wander by charming rivulets, or waste 
the day in reciprocations of fondness, she 
became potulent; her mouth was no longer 
decked with perpetual dimples; she fretted, 
wept and upbraided. Domestick discord soon 

Eroduced serious and lasting distress. Her 
usband, weak in principle as herself^ sought 
abroad the pleasure he no longer found at 
home. Dissipation impaired his constitu- 
tion and wasted his fortune; bankruptcy en- 
sued; and the wife, who ought to have sooth- 
ed his sorrow, and by industry and economy 
assisted in retrieving his fortune, upbraided 
faim for reducing one, whose education was 
so refined, to a mere household drudge. 
Such united perplexities were too mighty for 
his enfeebled constitution, and Pastoretta 
was left a widow at the age of thirty. She 
had two fine children, but was destitute of 
any means of subsistence. Some able fnend 
offered her liberal assistance that she might 
establish herself in some eligible line of bu- 
siness; but Pastoretta had read in her favour- 
ite authors of men and women who nobly di- 
ed rather than receive pecuniary assistance^ 
and believing that her exquisite sensibility 
never could support a state of dependence, 
she obstinately refused all relief, and suffer- 
ed her creditors to throw her into prison, de- 
termining there to finish what she imagined 
a life of misery, by poison. She effected her 
horrid purpose the second day of her impri- 
sonment, rushinff unbidden into the presence 
of her eternal judge, leaving her children un- 
provided for, uneducated, and to the mercy 
of strangers. 

Pastoretta is no imaginary character; the 
author personal^ knew her, knew her to be 
possessed of fine talents, a lovely person, and 
most engaging manners; and had she been 
properly educated, she would hare been an 
ornament to science, and a blessing to the 
world. 

It will not do to raise the superstructure of 
an edifice before the foimdation ;s well s^ 



cured. A girl who stttdies litde and reads 
much, is more exposed to the storms of fate, 
more liable to be raised too high or sunk too 
low, than even one who never reads any- 
thing. 

flad Pastorctta's mind been properly re- 
gulated and methodized by study; had she 
been made acquainted with life and manners 
as they really are, from books which breathe 
the language of truth, however dissonant to 
.the pride of the human heart; had she been 
guided by that wisdom, 

*' Before whose clear, discerning eye, 
The visionary shadows fly 

Of folly's painted show; 
Who sees through every fair disg^isey 
That all, but virtue's solid joys. 

Is vanity and woe;^ 

had she been taught that we must live Rke 
christians, not sentimentdize with the no- 
velist, or expect to be anything more than 
dependants on heaven and oh each other, her 
fate would have been found supportable, her 
babes would not have been forsaken, the poi- 
son never would have touched her lips. 

To prevent girls from reading every novel 
extant, is now nearly impossible. But it 
should be the business of those who instruct, 
to fortify their minds against the attacks the) 
invariably make upon virtue, by pointingout 
their defects, and by impressing this truth 
upon the mind. That they are the off'sprhng 
of imaginatitm^ and afford no pictures of real 
Itfe; no rules that can guide them through a 
rough and hard-judging world* 



GENIUS IN SOLITUDE. 

■ It is a matter of very agreeable speculation 
to consider, that probably there are in the 
bumbUst grades of society, souls to which 
nature has bountifully imparted the radical 
principle s of greatness, and the uncultured 
fervour of genius. Souls that are constrain- 
ed to walk ** along the cool sequestered vale 
of life," by nothing biit the dearth of occa- 
sions to range beyond it. — He who loves oc- 
casionally to stray in reseaches, without that 
barren circle which accident or choice has 
made his sphere of life, and to contemplate 
the mind as it bursts forth in stations subor- 
dinate to his own, will n6t unfrequently be 
astonished at the vivid emanations of intel- 
lect that brighten along even the most ob- 
scure walks of society, whose beams appear 
the more brilliant for the mournful gloom b\ 
which they are encircled. We learn by in- 
stances such as these, that genius is not the 
niggard tenant of local situation; it belongs 
not like extrinsick possessions, exclusively 
to opulence or imputed dignity — ^it is an 
it|heritance whose succession is far removed 
ftom the dominion of human laws and ol 
human will. It springs up promiscuously 
from amongst the elevated and the depres- 
sed, and if any adventitious situation be es- 
pecially favourable to its rapid and nervous 
growth, it surely must be that where luxury 
and excessive s?lf-gratification do not ener- 
VatOts^strength nor debase its purity. The 
general effec? <rf enjoying by hereditary 



claim, wealth and power which our'labour, 
exertions, or talents have not procured and 
entitled us to, is to entice us from that salu- 
tary degree of mental exercise which alone 
can give strength and clearness to the under- 
standing: It is evident that a descent of these 
ill effects from father to son in an unbroken 
series, must in time eventuate in fixed and 
physical imbecility; hence the observation, 
that nature dresses her nK>st vivifying smiles 
for the persecuted of fortmife, and the latter 
goddess to revenge the indignity, casts the 
most chilling regards upon the pupils of her 
rival. 

That a very great proportion of those on 
whom' fame delights to dwell, have risen 
chiefly from the unassisted force of native 
genius, history proves by the most irrefraga- 
ble testimony. Its pages are crowded with 
the exploits of those mighty spirits, that, 
emergme from some dark and disre^ded 
corner of creation, diffused their irresistible 
influences through a community, an empire, 
or a world! 



rOl THB tVRAI. VJSITXB. 

A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF J— H . 

Hild beamed the moon o^er tbe top of the moiiBtain; 
Sunk was the munnurt tbe buzz of the world: 
Sweet chim'd the rill, as it flow*d from tbe fountaiiH- 
The distant stream roar*d, o*er the precipice hurPd. 

Soft throbbed tbe heart, as I fjensively pondered 
I.ife*fi trials and troubles, its ioys and its end: 
And slowly adown the green hill-side I wander'd. 
To weep at its foot, o'er the grave of mj friend. 

Vain seennM the world— Oh, how vain its enjoyment^! 
Its pleasures, its joys— Oh, what vanishing names! 
How frail aeem'd the prospects* tbe hopes, the employ- 
ments 
Of man, as I leaned on the tomb of my James. 

Cold lies the sod on the heart that once trembled 
With feeling, with friendship, wiib kindness and lovC:* 
Mute lies the tongue whose fond accents resembled 
The infant's soft sigh, or tbe thunders above. 

Dark are the ways of the Ruler of Heaven, 

Clouds and obscurity circle his throne} 
Of his counsels, to us, Oh how little is given- 
How much lies inscrutably hidden, unknown— 

But hushed be repining, and fnurmor, and sighingi 
To every eye 'tw ill be made clear ere long, 
( Vr hen the soul to its permanent rest shall be flying) 
That the righteous OVrruler of Worlds doth no wrong. 

R.H. L. 



SOJOURNER, 
NO. XIV. 

ON SCHUYLKILL BRIDGE. 

Ah! what is ft thus struggles, while I cast. 

At once my mental and corporeal eyes 

O'er this fair prospect? Nature, thee I thank, 

(For on a theme so light, I dare not thank 

Thy author) thus to throw this fine-spun vetl 

Of misty elonn upon the blooming wild. 

Pensive it faaagst and with enrH)llient power. 

Softens thy action on tbe vital chords; 

Which else, too rudely struck by thy rude band. 

Might vibrate discord through the maddening powetv. 

Softetis, I said; yet scarce 1 understand 

If softened, or inflamed. 

Whence come those feelings, various, non-descripi! 

A clown can feel— no poet can describe. 

Yet whence proceed they? if a down can Mif 

And those in polished life can do no move. 

The cause itself must be su wideiv spread, ^ 

Dapendtng on no f onsi no mom ot mind/ 



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THE RtfRAL VISITER. 



PecttVtar enly to the haman race; 
Though infinitely varie4 and combined. 
Suppressed or nourished, as th* o'er^ruli^g bani 
Of destinv determines. 

Schuylkill! at whose single name uprise 
From bowery glen, green hill, or craggy rock, 
Where long theyVe slept— the ghosts of fairy joyBi 
Sweet stream! thou witness of unsallied bliss, 

(If aught unsullied man can taste below,) 

01 bear me, bear me from this whuiing scene 
Of man, and his tumultuous cares and joys; 
And make me yet a boy Transport me hence 
To scenes where memory's magick wand may raise 
A world of infants— All unhackneyed yet 

In *' knowledge of the world*' that gives the heart 
To know both good ind evil, but to taste 
Evil alone. O! pardon me, ye wise! 
Ye sapient heads, weighed down with classick lore, 
And all the lumber of five thousand years- 
Forgive me, (for alas!*! am a man. 
As mulish and as hard to teach as you) 
If I should dare to think, as you think oot^ , 
That youth were better kept at home, and taught 
The plain and simple path from earth to heaven, 
Than to be cast at large upon the world. 
With judgments weak, and principles unformed* 
To take the bias vicious shame may give. 
To gain a knowledge often dearly bought 
With ail the nobler riches of the soul; 
Ingenuous confidence that scorns mistrust^ 
And truth above the subrerfug&'Of^fraud^^ 
Oh! better far to suffer from the wiles 
Of little minds intent upon their prey. 
Excess of confidence will soon be cured. 
And modesty soon lose her bashful miea. 
By netdful commerce in the busy world. 
But what can ever stretch the bark-bound soul ^ 
Close-braced with worldly maxims from its birthi 
And made conversant with the moral scum. 
Is burd to be conceived. Then bear me hence 
Sweet stream, whose uncontaminated wave 
Through ages past has still remained the same: 
The same when savage footsteps trod thy banks« 
Or skimmed thy surface in their swift canoest 
And when the habitations of our sires 
Appeared reflected on thy breast serene* 
And late when 1, (though long the period seems 
By changes marked; and great the changes are 
That mark the progress of our crescent years) 
With unchecked hope and cloudless glee elate. 
Scaled thy rough cliffs, and swam thy tepid flood: 
Or, linked in friendship's strength-restoring band, 
Traced, through thy woody vales, the winding way. 
Or plucked the clustering wild-fruit from thy steeps; 
Or calmly stretched upon the mellow sod. 
Half raised, attended to the soothing sounds 
Of nature's melody— the various notes 
Of sylvan songsters, mixed with the soft 
And ceaseless murmur of the bubbling runs« 
The tinkling sheepbell from the distant mount. 
And, mellowed by the distance and the flood. 
The bellow of the cattle from the isle. 
Waft me, ye winds, on the returning tide 
To where the tortoise in her muddy shell. 
Receives the influence of meridian suns; 
While the warm cattle in the margin plunge 
Their reeking sides— or court the cooling breeae. 
Where the lone heron takes her patient sta .d. 
With fishhooked beak to seize the slippery prej» 
Where glide the finny race beneath the roots 
Of sycamore, tn oak, or poplar tall, 
Which curving o*erthe stream, afford a seat 
Where I may rest awhile my weary foot. 
And view, witb heart elate, the swelling scent* 
But lo! the fliry forms begin to fade; 
JDun evening draws the curtain of repose. 
Fast sinks the sun behind the woody cliff 
. Vbere noisy water-fowl assenibled ring 
X>ay's requiem, and from their height sublime 
Heflect I he latest radiance of the sun, 
Hind mediators betwixt East and West. 
•The heron to her secret lodge has flown; 
The ruminating herd recumbent rests— 
The frog and whippoorwill their notes resume; 
(«< Sounds inharmonious in themselves, and harsh** 
Yet breathed on mennory's transforming harp 
Wake a long train of recollected joys) 
Then fare thee well, sweet scream!— I too retire—* 
Thou, in thy rocky bed, shall still roll on. 
Unconscious of the poet's future fate. 
1, on a tide as rapid, must pursue 
My more important " journey to the deep.** 
Tet wliile OH earth, my mitHi ftbaU of^ r»vert« 



pouched by the genius of Inspiring fall, 
^0 days since passed upon thy peaceful banks, 
'es, still, loved season, fail not to remind, 
Maugre the sable list of worldly ills, 
(The brood of passion, interest, and pride) 
Still fail not ta remind me of those scenes 
Which seemed like Eden. Still at thy return 
Reprint th^ impression which a flux of years 
*Mid scenes so much unlike might well efface. 
Yes, still imprint the ^evn^/once of a world 
Where interest is not paramount to right;* 
Where fell ambition does not rear his throne 
On the dread ruins of innocence and peace; 
Where luxury, with un perceived success, 
Saps not the very spring of. every joy. 
The God of nature meant his gifts to yield. 



INTELLIGENCE. 



DOMBSTICK. 



A CARD. 



By a gentleman just from Washington, we are in- 
formed that the President has issued his proclamation 
to convene Congress on the 1st of October. 

The U. S. frigate Essex, with Mr. Pinkney, and 
the British frigate Minerva, with Mr. Foster, arrived 
at Annapolis on the 29ch ult. 

roREZGir. 

By late arrivals from England, we have London 
dates to the 26th May— the king was worse, but some- 
times rode out. 

Extract of a letter from Bristol, May 20. 

Arrived the Sarah, Ueartly, from Oporto, from 
whence She sailed on the lOth inst. Captain Heartly 
states, that the day before he sailed from Oporto, an 
express reached the govcmour of that place, with an 
account from Lord Wellington, of his having deCeated 
the French army under general Massena in an action 
fought near Almeida, on the 3d, 4th and 5th of May, 
in which the French lost 4CX)0 in killed, and 700 pri- 
soners; and the allies 1200 in killed. Lord Welling- 
ton was pursuing them towards Salamanca. Numbers 
were drowned in attempting to cross the rivers* Se- 
veral British officers fell, particidarly those of the 71st 
regiment. 

London, May 2X 

We hope that there is no apprehension of war be- 
tween England and America. It is better to bear with 
much on both sides, than to come to this unhappy is- 
sue. America and England have such a common in- 
terest, that nothing could be more lamentable than 
their hostility. This unfirieiidly feeling has originated 
in cottimetcial disappointment, but let it never be said, 
that anythiag of this low interest prevailed against the 
higher interests of the common safety of the two em- 
pires. 

The important post of Figueras, the key to the Py- 
retiees, on the Catalonia side, has surrendered to the 
Spaniards, who found in it 1,500 pieces of cannon, 
15.000 muskets, 11,000 suits of clothes, and took 3,000 
prisoners.— The affairs of the Spanish patriots are 
most prosperous, and Napoleon is rapidly descending 
from the giddy height to which he has been raised. 



DIED, 

At Nicetown on Friday evening, the 28th of Jnne, 
Mr Thomas Fisher, in the most dreadful state of hy- 
drophobia, occasioned by the bite «>f a mad dog, which 
he received two or three weeks ago. 



JAMES ALLINSON, 
MERCHANT TAYLOR, 

NO. 45y 

ARCHSTREET, PHILADELPHIA, 

Has received a large and handsome assortment of 

LAZARETTS, 

of the first ^[uality, suitable for men'Spiad wORieii's 
wear: he has the whole importatieiL '' ' *" 

7 Ttko.^OBLf mt 



Several of (he citizens beg leave respectfully to 
inform the Coiporation, that the Fire Engine belong- 
ing to the city is so leaky, that in case of fire it wocU 
be useless. To publick guardians generally so atten- 
tive to the concerns of the city, this infornsatioo wiQ 
be sufficient tp obtain the needful remedy. 
Bbrlington, June 6, 1811. 
- 

Jiint pubiisht'd^ 
AND FOR SALE AT THIS OFFICE, 

FRAGMENl^, 

IN PROSE AND VERSE, 
BY MISS ELIZABETH SMITH. 

WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF 

HER LIFE AND CHARACTER, 

. BY H. M. BOWDLER. 
With an elegant copper-plat<£ engraving. 

^3** ^ yc<^r has now neiirly expired since 
the commencement of the Rural Visiterj and 
we will thank those who are ye fin arrears to 
pay the amount of their subscriptions^ either 
to uSf or to our agents in their respective 
neighbourhoods. 

(Q* The following persons, agents for 
the Rural Visiter, are authorized to receive 
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lina ; Jos. B. Hinton, Washington ; Jchn\ 
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** Hwno mm: humani nihil a me aUenum/mtoJ^ — Man and his cares to me a man^ are dear. 



VOJ.. 1- 



BURJLINGTON, SEVENTH MONTH (JULY) 15th, 1811. 



No. 51* 



THE RECORDER. 

No. L. 

Since the first dissentions upon the sub- 
ject of religion, every sect has been distin- 
guished by some characteristick trait; not on- 
ly from the world at large, but from all other 
religious communities. The consideration 
that there can be but one true religion, which 
must of course be consistent with itself, and 
substantially the same in all ages of the 
\¥orld, and among all classes of mankind^ 
has induced some who have affected a liberal 
ivay of thinking, to view this diversity as an 
indication of the futility of all form; and it 
has perhaps been one cause why so many 
persons of good moral character refuse to 
connect themselves with any religious so- 
ciety* lliat religion has, in almost all ages, 
been incumbered with many superfluous, and 
often with absurd and pernicious ceremo- 
ni^ is undeniable. I am not about to de- 
fend superstition and bigotr)'; to frame an 
apology for those fanatical excesses which 
have at various times shackled the human 
mind^ and perverted or suppressed the legi- 
timate exercise ol its natural powers; nor for 
those narrow prejudices which have tended 
to prevent the professors of Christianity 
froai co-operating, for the promulgation of 
truth and righteousness in the earth. But 
there are some considerations which place 
the non-essentials, by which the various sects 
are distinguished from each other, in a dif- 
ferent hght from that in which they are often 
viewed. Every substance with which we 
are acquainted^ is exhibited to oiu- senses 
under some form: we cannot separate them 
even in idea. Religion then must have a 
form; and were all its professors properly 
under its influence,!', is probable there would 
be very little diversity of sentiment with re- 
gard to the forrd nfost congeni^ to the spirit 
of the religion they professed. But mixed 
and imperfect as ie the present state of chingd, 
we must expeet to find in every human insti- 
tution, some marks of the prejudices and 
weakness of human nature. Widi respect 
to essential pomts, it is evident, that every 
society^ as they ought to be fully convinced 
of the soundness of their doctrines, should 
be tenacious. Wavering, in these respects, 
would indicate^ either a culpable indiftercnce 
or a want of sincerity in belief, or of faithful- 
ness to the testimonies on which they btHeve 
the happiness of mankind to depend. By 
parity of reasoning, they are bound by the 
most sacred dWigatious, to bring up thtJr 
children in a way of faith and practice con- 
rgeaialto their own ideas* This finnness, 



however, by no means includes the idea of 
bigotry, or want of candour: Every man 
should be open to conviction. Truth is su- 
preme, and claims our reverence wherever 
she is found. When, therefore, the subject 
of parental solicitude, when arrived at years 
of religious discernment^ shall believe Ynm'' 
sdf conscientiomiy bound to deviate from the 
tenets or practices of his parents^ coercion 
would be an infringement of the supreme 
right of man;— the liberty of conscience. 

With respect to the importance of those 
points which may be considered as the non- 
essentials of religion, the mere external 
badges by which the members of one reli* 
gious society are distinguished from those of 
another, or from the people of the world, it 
is probable a greater diversity of sentiment 
will obtain. To these, die generality are 
apt to attach but little consequence: A man's 
address, the cut of his coat, the form and 
appendages of a place of worship, are not 
the vital parts of religion. True— But, 
that they have no eflfectdirecdy or mdirect- 
ly upon the heart, I am not prepared to ad- 
mit. I am not, indeed so superstitious as to 
suppose that tbey possess any power of ne* 
cromancy ; or that they are capable of coun* 
teracting the evil propensities of our nature: 
yet so kmg as we are in a state of being 
wherein the soul receives so many impres- 
sions from external causes, over which we 
have no control, it would be absurd to sup- 
pose, tnat we are entirely uninfluenced by 
those which are the offspring of our vo- 
lition* 

li by no means comes within the limits 
which 1 have prescribed to mj'self in this es- 
say, to enter into a disquisition on the res- 
Eective merits of those external forms and 
abits, which characterize the various sects 
of Christendom; it might appear invidious. 
It wiU not, however^ I presume, be conm- 
dered as a breach of charity to assert, thlit 
every form is not equally congenial to the 
genius of the christian religion. 

Widi respect to the degree of importance 
which may properly be attached to the tout 
ensenMe of duwe extermde, Ae fcdlowing 
suggestions may not be irrelevant. Every 
religious community conceives itself tb be 
invested (together with those it bears in com- 
mon with odiers) with eome peculiar points 
of doctrine or practice. To preserve these 
in their purity^ it is essential that there be 
some obvious and characteristick mark of 
distinction to prevent their assimilation with 
persons of opp^nsite sentiments. No one 
who has made human nature any part of his 
study, or who has even not shut his eyes to 
the most glariag matter of fact, will pretend 
to deny, that there eaials m malikind a pow- 



erful tendency to adopt, not only the man- 
ners, but the habits, the sentiments, the taste, 
the whole character of those* with whom 
they are intimately associated. It is a sound 
maxim founded on experience, that we ei- 
ther change others, or are changed by thenu 
The history of conquest, or even of commer- 
cial intercourse furnishes ample illustration 
of iu truth. When, d^erefore, persons of 
opposite characters come frequently into 
contact, one or both must change: This will 
naturally be the weaker party. It behoves^ 
then, those societies who wet engaged in the 
promul^tion of such tenets as are likely to 
meet with opposition from the world, to be* 
ware how they too lightly esteem those little 
exteriours which serve at once as a badge oC 
distinction, and as a hedge of preservation 
from the intrusion df the spoiler. If once 
their members are perfectiy assimilated in 
these respects with the rest of the world, it 
would be nothing less than miraculous, if 
their peculiar tenets long retained their ori* 
ginal effect. The case of the Jews is appo- 
site to shew the efficacy of exteriours in pre- 
serving a people separate from others. They 
were hedged m (if I may use die expressionjf 
with observances more numerous ditan those 
of any other pe<^le; and many ctf Aese were 
so minute, and apparendy trifling, as to ex- 
cite the ridicule of Voltaire and other infidel 
wits, his contemporaries. Yet there is great 
reason to believe they were designed by tte 
divine lawgiver, in part to prevent the mix- 
ture of tiiit favoured peopie with Aose of 
the surrounding nations. 

There is yet another use in these charaC- 
teristical dibtinctions; which is, that they 
stand, before the eyes of a forgetful and care- 
less world, as a perpetual and conspicuous 
meiamal of the testimonies of the respective 
societies by wluch they are borne. 



»^a TBB avBAL vmixa. 

Directions for raising turnips among corn^ 

Sow about one pint of turnip seed to the 
acre, on or about the ^st of 7 ifto. either be- 
fore or after the last haftrrowing* Top the 
corn, as soon as ripe enough, and* husk it as 
3uon as the com will admit. C\it down, and 
bear off the stalks, to let the sun upon the 
turnips; and the sweeta«ss of the fodder 
will compensate for thtt hbour. Take in the 
turnips about the middle of the 12th month. 
By pursuing these directions, com of 40 bush- 
els to the acre wiU produce 80 or 100 bushels 
of turnips, at Ae same tune. These for milch 
cows, and, sileep, will be of particular import* 
ance. 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



FOm THB RURAX. VISXTER. 

Qn removing the wild myrtle from the xveods 
of Auburn, 

Loveliest flowret of the wild! 

Wilt thou partake Malvina's home? 
Thou, who in Auburn oft hast siaird, 

And lur'd her infant step to roam. 

Transplanted from thy native wood, 
Say wilt thou deign to-dwell with me; 

To leave the tranquil solitude 
Where peace unvaried seems to be? 

Here will thy unassuming form, 
Prone to reward the searching eye, 

Accept a shelter from the storm 
That soon must rend the wintry sky? 

To " wile away" that stormy hour 

Thy vernal beauties here display; 
Unfold to me thy embryo power; 

Nor feel December's frigid sway. 

As rapt in placid thought I gaze, 
And plcas'd review thy lovely form, 

Thou wilt recall those eafly days 
Which Mem'ry decks with, many a charm. 

By thee awak*d they flSt to view — 
No wintry clouds their flight impede; 

On Fancy's wing 1 caich their hue, 
And see Care's vap'ry train recede. 

Again I see that peaceful vale. 

In whose sequesler'd bosom plac*d, 

I markM \\it*t first perfume the gale, /^ 

And firtt thy op*ning beauties trac'd. 

MALVINA. 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

Copy of a letter from Coh Benjamin Haw^ 

khis to G C ^ dated Jan. ^d 1809, 

at AgeTKy among the Creek Indium. 

" Just after the period of our first acquain- 
tance at Mr. P's in Philadelphia, about 13 
years ago, I was appointed by the President 
of the United States principal temporary- 
agent for Indian aflfairs south of Ohio, espe- 
cially charged with the plan of civilization. 
I have remained ever since occupied with 
this important charge. 

" I will not give you my opinion of the 
plan of the missionaries heretofore sent 
among the Indian tribes^ and the real and 
effective execution of it: nor will I, to a man 
of your bienevolent mind, contrast my hum- 
ble occupation with the passing scenes of the 
old world — my attempts to civilize the man 
of America (not worth a paragraph in a 
newspaper) with the learning, ingenuity and 
accomplishments of an age, occupied unceas- 
ingly in rivetting the sh;ickles of slavery, and 
deteriorating the man of Europe; a calling 
deemed honourable there, &c. &c. But I will 
tell you my plan, how I executed it, and the 
certain prospect of success ultimately. 

" I began with the pastoral life, my charge 
being hunters. I recommended attention to 
raising stock, particularly cattle and hogs. 
Our climate is fine for both, and we abound, 
winter and summer, in grass, reed, or cane. 
Horses are not so certain, as the diseases 
of the climate arc unfavourable to the propa- 
gation of them ; however we have great 
numbers of them. 



" Next— I recommended agriculture,with 
the raising of fruit trees, and particularly of 
the peach. 

*^ Then domestick manufactures: then fi- 
gures: and lastly letters. 

*^ I set examples in all things myself. I 
teach the objects intrusted to me by example 
as well as by precept. 

** I teach them morality; to be true to 
themselves; to respect their own rights and 
those of their neighbours; and to be useful 
members oi the planet they inhabit. On all 
occasions, I inculcate in them, above all 
things to abstain from war, as the gr-eatest 
curse tliat can befal a nation. 1 teach them 
to be just, generous, and brave in asserting 
their rights, as well as in respecting the rights 
of their neighbours; and piu-ticularly to pro- 
tect the stranger and traveller in their land. 
1 leave the atlairs of another world to be in- 
troduced by the Father ot all worlds, or 
some benevolent agent of his, as may seem 
meet to his wisdom. 

'^Thus acting, I have prevailed on a fourth 
4)art of my charge to leave tneir clustered 
situation in their old towns, and move out 
for the convenience of stock, of good land 
for cultivation; and to make fences, plant 
trees, raise cotton, and spin it, and in seve- 
-^al instances to weave itf to depend on their 
farm and stock tor food; and aided with the 
wheel and loom for elothmg, to attend on 
these thitigs for the necessaries of life, and 
on hunting as an amusement only. ' 

" For the first three or four years, I expe- 
rienced continual rudeness of opposition; 
For the succeeding 3 or 4 years our plan was 
slowly progressive. And even during this 
period, almost the only pleasure I had, some- 
times, was in a harvest of ingratitude. But 
ultimately, by persevering in the course 1 
commenced, I have brought the Indian mind, 
though slowly and reluctantly, to yield to 
the evidence of facts; and the plan is now 
no longer problematical. 

"Several of the Indians have sowed wheat, 
planted fruit trees, and used the plough: se- 
veral of them have made spinning wheels 
and looms, and wove cloth. Among the 
Lower Creeks we have more than twenty 
looms in use; and eight of them made by 
Indians, and wrought by Indians. Wc 
have blankets made by an Indian superiour 
to a Yorkshire doffil: A sample was sent to 
the seat of government; and the whole pro- 
cess, from the sheep to the blanket, was tht 
work of Indians, except the irons for the 
loom. We have home-spun cotton cloth oi 
500 and 600, equal to our neighbours; and 
the dyes and stripes, in some instances, as 
good. And I believe we have now nearh 
300 spinning wheels occasionally in use by 
Indian women; although the last year was 
very unfavourable to the raising of cotton. 
And tlie demand for wheels, cards, looms, 
ploughs, and other implements of husbandry- 
is greater than I can supply. 

*'Some few of the Indians have tanned 
leather and made saddles: several make their 
silver ornaments; and some have made but- 
ter and cheese. 

^ When I came here, there were not ten 
women in the agency who bad a petticoat 



^ower than the knee, but now the long petti* 
coat is in general use. The women were 
the only labourers; but now the men begin 
to partake in the labours of the field, as well 
as ill spinning and weaving. 

" I nave at the agency a large farm, where 
we raise pease, wheat, barley, rye, rice, oats, 
flax, cotton, sweet and Irish potatoes, melons, 
pumpkins, turnips, &c. I ba\'e .peach trees 
great variety, and of excellent qualities; 



m 

all the variety of garden roots and vegeta- 
bles. I have a grist-mill and saw-mill, a tan- 
yard, a shoe and boot-maker, a tin-man, a 
cooper, two wheelwrights, a cabinet work- 
man, an instructerin spinning and weaving, 
a set of blacksmiths, and a schoolmaster. 
We have had saddlers, and shall soon have 
a hatter. My family of 80 persons is clothed 
in homespun. Our wool, flax, and cotton 
are of our own raising; our wheels and looms 
are of our own manufacture; and we have 
introduced the flying shuttle generally among 
the Indians. You will readily believe from 
this state of things, that they are become 
the theme of conversation among the Creeks. 

" 1 he Moravian brethren twice sent the 
rev. Stonier on a visit to me, with the offer 
of a minister of the gospel. But my opinion 
being, that the time was not yet come for 
this, I would only accept of mechanicks from 
them in aid of my plan. After consulting 
their brethren in Europe, they sent me two: 
One is a tinman and cooper; the other is a 
house-joiner and wheelwright. The first 
obtains sale for his manufactures to me or 
the Indians: and hitherto I have found a 
market for all the other one can moke. They 
are exemplary in their livt s, and very useful. 
One is a native of Holstein in Denmark, and 
the other of Prussia. 

** I make figures precede letters. Every 
figure is a distinct idea to the eye and mind. 
With figures, a knowledge of weights and 
measures and money is taught, and the rela- 
tive connexions between them. 

** We have in some feW solitary instances 
some half-breeds: and some Indians arc 
taught to read and write. 

*-^ With sincere wishes for your happiness, 
I am, my venerable friend, yours, &c. 

" BLNJ AMIN HAWKINS.'' 



SSLXCTBV FOR THB SYRAL YXSITEB. * 

PARAPHRASE ON PART OF STERNE*S 
MARIA. 

As 1 passed, I beheld, bj a poplar o'ershaded. 
Where a rill through a thicket, meander*d aloTkg, 

Maria, whose bloom her distresses bad faded. 
Wildly warbling her tenderly querulons song'. 

Her form, in a robe of pure white was invcsied. 
Her hair, o'er her delicate hand, loosely ^w'd. 

As upon it her craz'd head she pensively rested. 
And gaz*d on the •flow'rs that aro«\d iier were 
strew'd. 

From the girdle that clasped bw, » ttring wa» su^ 
pcndfd. 

To which S>lvlo, her onJf companion, wa« tied* 
Her pipe on a ribbon <»f pale green depended. 

That hung from her shoulder, and wav'd at her side. 

This regard of her father she ne'er conld recover; 

Her goat, that once sported along as she stray 'dj 
Had deserted her, like her ungenerous lotrcr. 

And left to herself this unfortunate mai4. 



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261 



At 1 look'd »t her dog»thc fweet girl drew him nearer, 
•' Ah! leave mc not Sylvio,** she tenderly cries: 

She remember'd her goat j but her father still dearer, 
Drew tears of regret from her wild rolling eyes. 

I sat down beside her, in mute contemplation. 

And wip'd off her tears, e'er they fairly had flown. 

While my bosorti was throbbing with strong perturba- 
tion: 
I wip'd off alternately her's and my own. 

The mind of Maria recalPd the impression, 
I'd made when I piiied her sorrows before; 

And the charms that attended her ariless confession, 
Now heightened the feeling of sympathy more^ 

"I remember,'* said she, "though my mind was dis- 
tracted, 

The stranger who saw me, with pity was mov'd, 
To see the unhappy Maria neglected, 

By those she had honour*d, and him she hadlov'd. 

^ My goat stole his handkerchief, and the offender 
1 beat, and he left me, to wander alonej 

But 1 wash'd, and have kept it, and mean to surrender, 
Should I e'er again see him, what's truly his own." 

Then saying no more, the unfortunate mourner 
Produc'd it, ioclos'd in the leaves of a vine; 

A tendril surrounded it, and, on the corner, 
I saw the initial that told me 'twas mine. 

" Since that have I seen, in my devious wand'rings, 
St. Peter's at Rome, and walk'd round it with joy— 

The Po and the Tiber's romaniick meand'rings. 
And return'd without shoes o'er the tlints of Savoy. 

** The cloud cover'd Appenines too, have beheld me 
On their hoary cliffs roving, alone and forlorn — 

But ihe same kind divinity led and upheld me, 
That tempers the wind to the lamb that is shorn." 

•« Shorn indeed to the quick," said I; "hut could I ever 
Be blest with thy siglu in my peaceful cot. 

No sorrows of thine, or my own, should dissever 
Maria, from him who now pities her lot, 

•' My study should be to relieve thy distresses; 

Thy heart chill'd by neglect, should my sympathy 
-warm;' 
K.v'ry tear sliouid be dried by my tender caresses, 
And my cottage should shelter thy limbs from the 
storm. 

**'Xfo more o'er the cliff, or the cataract foaming, 
Should the steps of the hapless Maria be ltd; 

But whene'er 1 beheld thee, )n solitude roaming. 
My hand ahould conduct thee back safe to my shed. 

J" When, at evecing, the sutv in his splendour de- 
scended, 
To Heav'n should our mutual devotion arise. 
And my pra) 'rs, by the sound of thy soft pipe at- 
tended, 
Suiihng Seraphs should bear on their wings to the 
skies." 

My heart thrill'd again, for the fair mourner grieving, 
My eyes uere with tears of compassion sufiused; 

1 was wiping theui off— when Maria, perceiving 
My 'kerchief already too drench'd to be used.— 

" Let me wasli it," said she, *• in this stream near us 
6owing:" 
«« And where will you dry it ?" half fell from my 
tongue: 
"in my bosom," said she—** And is that still so grow- 
ing?"— 
1 touched on the string, where her sorrows all hung. 

I diaceifn'd by her wild eye, her painful sensation: 
To the Virgin she tun'd her pipe, plaintive andLl^^i 

The string I had touch'd upon ceas'd its vibration- 
She dropt her pipe, hastily rising to go. 

Adieu, sweet MatUi* Adieu lovely creature! 

Thy gjriefs unde^^'d 1 must pity in vain, 
For none but the Infinite Author of Nature, 

lYho has wounded th'y, heart can e*er heal it again. 



Ko state can bo^more destitute than that of a person 
who, when the delights of sens^ forsake hiiB> haa no 



SELECTED FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 

** Afidlttai a^sxvered the King^ andsatd^ as 
the Lord liveth^ and as my Lord the King 
Itveth^ surely ui what place my Lord the 
King shall be^ whether in death or life^ 
even there also will thy servant 3e." 

The book of Samuel is crowded with 
interesting narratives. The story of the 
artifice and defection of Absalom is full of 
incident, and exhibits a forcible moral. The 
clergy have ever found, in his revolt and its 
consequences, a copious theme for grave re- 
mark and pious meditation. Sterne, whose 
pen was a pencil, has grouped king David 
and his attendants in consternation and sor- 
row, flying over the brook Cedron toward 
the way of the wilderness. The Lay Preach- 
er, humbly gleaning after such labourers, has 
picked up one incident, picturesque, pathet- 
ick, honourable to humanity. A portrait, 
that has such features, merits an exhibition. 
From the Cabinet of the Bible then let it be 
produced; and if placed in a good light, the 
rude man, as well as tlie connoisseur, will 
style it enchanting. 

As a cover for fraud or violence, religious, 
perhaps, more frequently than political pre- 
texts, have been employed by the hypocrites 
of every age« Absalom was too cunning an 
impostor not to know that a shew of piety 
would be highly operative with his father 
David* Anxious to set up the standard of 
rebellion in Hebron, a city of malecontents, 
the royal rcvolter prays that he might be 
permitted to go thither to pay his vows. 
The credulous king consents. Absalom is 
attended with the usual crowd, studious of 
change and confusion. Some of those coun- 
jscUors, in whose loyalty the king probably 
reposed eatire confidence^ abandon their dut}'' 
and their sovereign^ and follow the fortunes 
of the usurper. The dark plot thickens. The 
conspirators increase. The mournful tidings 
of a son's criminality reach at length the af- 
flicted sire. The baleful cry of treason rung 
in the palace. The perturbated king urges 
the necessity of flight. He and his household 
accordingly secede from the city. Interest- 
ing fugitives! You were not the victims of 
common fear, you were not a disordered rout 
on the retreat from a chasing conqueroar; 
you were kind companions, and ftUow 
mourners, and, as you ascended together the 
steep of Mount Oliiret, let fall "kindly drops, 
which pit}' had engendered.'* 

Though it might be expected that those, 
immediately about the person of David, 
whose affections he could easily engage, or 
whose obedience he could sternly require, 
would be the partners of his flight, yet in 
such a dubious hour, the strangers at Jeru- 
salem, the wealthy, the politick, the timid 
would keep aloof, till more tranquil times 
should come round again. 

But Ittai, the Gittite, had such a warm 
heart, that he never balanced in his cautious 
head the pros and cons of this selfish philo- 
sophy. 

This man did not linger a moment on the 
bank of the brook to consider the hazard he 
ran, or the probability that he should lose his 
head, if Absalom's banners proved victori- 



ous. The time-serving Sl^mei made many 
a syllogism, in this prudent logick; Ittai's 
process of reasoning was more summary; for 
*| he passed over, and all his men, and all the 
little ones that were with him." 

Though a kingdom and a child's affections 
were fast fading away before the sight of Da-^ 
vid, and we might easily suppose him ab- 
sorbed in his calamities, he was not so sunk- 
en in the trance of woe, not to remark the 
prompt fidelity of Ittai. But such zeal at 
such a season, and from such a quarter, ap- 
peared enigmatical— " Wherefore goes! thou 
also with us? For thou art a stranger, and 
also an exile: Whereas thou camest but 
yesterday. Should 1 this day make thee go 
up and down with us? Seeing I go whither 
I may. Return thou and take back thy bre- 
thren: Mercy and truth be with thee." 

Dr. Campbell censures the paraphrasti- 
cal style, and the Lay t^reacher is averse to 
verbosity. The above address of the king is 
so tersely expressed that a little expansion, 
though diminishing the force, may add to 
the perspicuity of the passage. 

Is it possible Ittai, that you are one of my 
unfortunate associates? How can you leave 
the delights of a city for the way of the wil- 
derness, and prefer danger with me to future 
honours from Abaalom? You are a stranger, 
how carest thou then for Jerusalem? vou 
have been c-m exile; whence then thy nation- 
ality? Return, good, but deluded man; >v'hy 
shouldest thou wander with David and tempt 
perdition? I am here desolate and despised; 
soon, perhaps, to perish by the steel, or still 
sharper, the ingratitude of a child. I des- 
perately fl}^, I know not where. But let not' 
thy rash loyalti^ trace my perplexed paths. 
t or thy zeal receive — my heart. But leave 
me, and make thy peace with the usurper. 
May Mercy plead with him diy forgiveness. 
May Truth attest thy virtue. 

To so noble a friend and faithful follower 
such a remonstrance would add constancy. 
Tell Ittai of danger and he half unsheathes 
his sword. He prefers hazardous allegiance 
to criminal submission, and would rather, 
with bare and bleeding feet, go up the ascent 
of Olivet, than be captain of the host at se- 
ditious Hebron:, " And Ittai answered the 
king, and said, as the Lord liveth, and as 
my Lord the King liveth, surely in what 
place my Lord the King shall be, whether in 
death or life, even there also will thy servant 
be." 

Survey, my readers, this grand historical 
picture, designed by a great master-*-a pro- 
phet. It is more glowing than the canvas of 
Rubens, more sublime than the cartoons of 
Raphael— 'It is the portrait of a friend in 
adversity. the lay preacher. 



FOR THE StJRAL VISlTBt. 

In reading the reports of the standing com- 
mittee of missions to the general iissembly of 
the Presbyterian church for 1811, I vas par- 
ticularly pleased at stteing the general as- 
sembly's attention to the blacks. It appears 
that John Gloucester, a ministering black 
man, w as appointed a missionary for three 
months to the blacks in Philadcdphia. By 



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hi3 labours, assisted by the Evangelical So- 
ciety of the city, a fair prospect exists of ha- 
ving a house of worship erected for his black 
brethren that will cost about 3,850 dollars. 

It also pleasingly appears that John H. 
Rice was appointed a missionary minister 
for three months to the blacks in Charlotte 
county, Virginia, and parts adjacent; and has 
•ommunicated to the standing committee of 
missions, the following delightful int^Di- 
gence, ha a letter to their chairman: 

Charlotte Comity^ Virg. UtMatfj 1811« 

**Dbar Sir — During the year past, I 
l^ve endeavoured, according to m^y abilities, 
to execute the truat reposed in me: One 
fourth of my time has been given to my black 
congregation. Lecturing on select passages 
•f scripture seems to be a mode of instruc- 
tion better calculated fen- people in that state 
of no-improvemeiit, in which the blacks are, 
than preaching: I have accordingly adopted 
that mode; not however to the dereliction 
•f the other; smd I hope that it has not been 
without advantage to the people. The con- 
duct of the blacks during the last year, has 
been regular and orderly, submissive to dis- 
cipline, and in many respects worthy of high 
commendation. In a word^ my labours 
among them have afforded tne more satis- 
faction, than during any $iimilar period of 
my missionary service. 

" By the last report, eighty-two were be- 
longing to the congregation; only 80 belong 
to it now. There lias been only one death, 
and no case of suspension, or excommunica- 
tion. During the winter, a gentleman who 
owns a large number of my blacks, removed 
a part of them from the neighbourhood to a 
plantati<Mi about 30 miles distant. I not long 
ago sent an appointment to preach among 
them. They had supposed that they, in con- 
sequence of their removal, would be depriv- 
ed of the privileges they had for a long time 
enjoyed: and when the appointment was 
made, they seemed to be transported with 
joy. I do believe that they love the gospel 
of Jesus Christ sincerelyj and me, an utj- 
worthy minister of this gospel, with an af- 
fection surpassin;^ that felt for me by any 
other people. 

" Such is thf, order and regularity of my 
kbcks, and scj superiour are they in every 
respect too'.dinary negroes, that they are 
mot only e?.teehied by the whites; but have 
verjr cony iderable influence among men of 
their ow/a colour." 

Jaiy'.ies H. Dickey acted as a missionary 
**i°'i3ter three months between the Scioto 
^ id Wabash rivers. During his mission he 
' travelled aboutl,200 miles and preached 101 
^ times. Hib journal is interesting: — But I 
was particularly interested in my feelings by 
tm act of generosity performed by the inha- 
bitants of Bulletsburg. The missionary lost 
his horse by a sudden deaths and this people 
feeling for him in his loss, purchased another 
for 80 dollars, and, in a very handsome man- 
ner, presented it to him. Their charity is 
the more toJbc commended, because there 
was not one professed Presbyterian minister 
amottgthem. But the spirit of love, which 
uiiittft the hemrt^ of christians of all denomi* 



nations, was operating powerfully in their 
hearts. In this place a religious concern had 
commenced. 

In the minutes of the general assemblies, 
I rejoiced to observe, they had taken up a 
concern against " the excessive and intem- 
perate use of spirituous liquors.'* Dr. B. 
Rush presented to them 1,000 copies of his 
pamphlet on the effects of ardent spirits on 
the human mind. 

Accounts from the Indians are interesting 
also. But I was sorry to learn two religious 
ones were killed as wlzzards, by some of 
their own people. 



BOR THE BUKAL YXSITSm. 

iTcs Solitude! I own thee •' sweet,"* 
And grant that in thy calm retreat 
IVith innocence and health replete, 

Time smoothly flows; 
Where no intruding sound we meet 

From mental foes. 

And if ^ friend t that balm of woe! 
That sweetest solacer below 
Which heaven in bounty can bestow 

To cheer our way, 
Does round our path her lustre throw. 

How bright the day! 

Then evctnng shades Serenely fall, 
The bosom calm is pleas'd with all, 
Kot vainly anxious to recall 

The joys of mora; 
Nor disappointments here appal» 

Or plant a tbonu 

Mom promisM no tumuUuous joy 
Such as reflection could destroy; 
But told of what meets no allov 

From Timers control— 
Heaven^s boundless love! at which beau high 

The grateful soul. 

V. 

FOft THE tVRAL VI8XTS1. 

On observing a withered leaf bicwn fast the 
window. 

Go, happy leaf !«-^ flutter o*er the plain, 
Seek out some ccmer for thy ia*t retreat; 

Mix with thy kindrfed fbrm8*-a countless train. 
And say *' JjiaennbUity it tmeet.*' 

Yes! I believe thee— there, remote from man. 
His joy or misery, thou sleep'st secure; 

With him thou aim'st not unknown worlds to scan* 
Or griev*st with him that hnman life's so poor. 

With me thou moum'st not Ftiendship^s broken tic. 
Or instability of iarrhbom bKss; 

Thou bloom'd secure beneath a smiling sky- 
Now pass as bapply from a scene like this • 

Ho apprehended evils dimm*d thy day. 
No retrospections veil'd thy ev'ning how; 

On a soft gale I saw thee borne away. 
To sleep unmovM by Winter's stormy power** 

And sleep profound! my envy shall not break 
The t'trpid bondage that enthrals thee there. 

Although this heart with various ills may ache. 
And ml the chains Mortality mun weax. 

M. 

SBLBCTBl^ roil THE RVJLAh VISXTSE. 

THE WILD ROSE BUD. 

Ah! why did I gather this delicate flowerf 
Why pluck the young bud from the treel 

Twouldf there have bloomed lovely for mtoy an hour- 
How soon it will perish with me! 

Already its beautiful textul« decays* 

41re«dy it iUes on m> signt! 
Tb thus that chill langu<>r too oft overpays 

The moment of transient delight! 

When eagerly pressing enjoyment too near/ 
It* blossom we gather in huter 



Row often we moohk whh a penitent teaf 
O'er the joys that we hiTishei in waste! 

This elegant flower, had 1 left it at f«ic, 

Might still have delighted my eyes; 
But plucked prematurely, and placed m my breilt^ 

It languishes, withers, amd oies! 



IN I ELUGtNCE. 

OOMSSTICie. 

A gentleman arrived from Washington, mentions* 
that the opinion of the best informed petsons there, 
before th€ arrival of Mr. Foster, was, that there would 
be war wi* h Great Britain— that since Mr. Foster's 
arrival, he and Mr. Monroe hicve had several long 
conversations together, one of which lasted nearly a 
day — and that it is now confidently believed that an 
amicable termination of all disputes will take place 
very speedily. 

We fervently hope this InfotmatKm may prore coiv 
rect 

St. FrancisviUe^ Ma^ 30, 

A fnontter.'^K serpent of an extraordinary size has 
been recently discovered in th< Mississippi Swamp, a. 
few miles ab<:iVe this yiUage. I have convened witK 
three gentlemen of unquestionable veracity, who have 
seen it They agree in thehr ueseription, which is in 
substance, that the monster is in body con^derabiv 
larger than an ofdinary man, beaotifvlly striped with 
gold and green, rich beyond ObJ]oeptio»-*the length is 
not accurately known, but it is supposed to be from 15 
to 26 feet. One of the gentlemen with whxnn I con- 
versed shot at it wi:h a rifle, >vhen it onitted a verv 
oflensive smell, from which he supposed he had woond- 
ed it However, as it was seen the sncceedfng day, it is 
presumable that if it was wounded the wound was 
slight 'I'his is the first serpent of such large size I 
have heard of on the MississippL 

FOBBIGN. 

Arrived the ship Oronooko, capt. Richatd^ from 
Lisbon-^bailvd the ist ot June. 

Captain Hkhards informs, that there were great re- 
joicings and illumiuatious at Lisbon on account of th« 
late victories obtained over the French armies. 

Lord Wellington joined Beresford s army en the 
19th of May, and 15,000 of bis army were also on their 
march to join him. in the battle of AJbubera, tlie 
French lost about 10,000 men . and the tS^v^ armies 
bei^- een 6 and 7,000. 

General Hill had arrived from England with 13»000 
men, 1,500 of which were cavalry. 

A new decree has been issued by Bonaparte, the 
object of which \^, ti' prevent as much as possible, cHo 
marriage of the young men, in order that more faci- 
lity may be given to the completion of the conscript ioil 
*•> All men under the agr ot tnirty are prohibited from 
marrying, and all those above that age must produce 
fourteen witnesses to attest that the a^of the claiBi* 
ant is full thirty years. 

Britub NaiKii mttary^^On the morning of the 13th 
of iv^ay, a bquadron consisiiT>g of fomr small British 
frigates under the command of Captain ilottt, of the 
Amphion, fell in wkh a trench and Italian armasMnt 
consisting of five frigates, one corvette, one br^, two 
schooners, one Xebeck, and one gun boat, baying oa 
board 500 troops, bound to the island of Lis8». After 
an action of six hours the veholr were taken or pm to 
flight-N3 of the frigates, one of 44 and one 3Q takeni 
the Favourite of 44 (French Commodore) was dt-ivea 
on shore and blew up one frigate, after having stracls 
her colours* got off. The number of guns carried by 
the English squadr<m amounted to 134-'and that i 
the French to 272. 

LIST OF LETTERS 'l*^ 

RenuiuiiDg h the Post Oflicc, Bui:BiigttHi» Jul^r'^ 

i8ii. 

(A) Messrs David Allinson & Co; Mr. puoies A^ 
len.— --<B) Miss Mary R. Budd, Bethuf^onoB, Mr. 
bmbrce. Brewer — *KC) Robert Catt / n(F) Mrs. 
Mary Jobs, at John l'%ninK>re*s.-<'>»'*-^l^ Ji^. WIfttani 
Helleit. (M) William MaAn.-^-«-(,JQ C»ieb New- 
bold (l») John Peck, Jehn ftiiv I orjoM^Ptawt 

Joseph P^rrish, M. D.— -(lUlsaac Hic&dsdson.-— — 
(h) John S. Smith, M. byfcC, TeachCT.— ^W) Mr. 
Whittlesey. 

STEPHEN C. USTICR» F. M, 

T- .'i ' , )' ; ' ' . a z» 

i ubiiHtied Weekiif^ by D. Ahinson & Co* 

art 01- ntithivaitov4 sr. j« 

I Price two Dollars sixty-tWo Ctnu foe VoUuM fi^j 
f payable semt^aiiiHnUly in wifvmi^ 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



** Homo sum; kumani nihil a me alitnium piito.^^ — Man and his cares to me a man, are dear* 



VOL. I. 



BURLINGTON, SEVENTH MONTH (JULY) 22d, 1811. 



No. 52» 



THE RECORDER. 
No. LL 

Sesmite indoctum vani dulcedine 
FaUere. 



Ovid. 



It was the opinion of the telebrated Dr. 
Johnson, that the glory and only permanent 
reputation of a country must depend upon 
its authors. Other buoyant qualities are 
quickly dissipated; this fame is durable and 
delightful. It is not their number, however, 
that is to be regarded; it is their real— -their 
intrinsick merit: The united splendour of 
the galaxy, is obscured by die brilliant radi- 
ance of the sun. That this opinion is cor- 
rect, need scarcely be demonstrated in the 
present state of the world. The history of 
past times amply confirms the idea; and the 
unanimeus opinion of every civilized coun- 
try, has added testimonies to its truth. But 
the merit of writers must be soUd to sustain 
the reputation of a country; it must be ada- 
mantine to withstand the corroding assaults 
of the stream of time. In examming the 
peculiar merits of those authors who have 
supported and increased the glory of their 
countries, and transmitted it wuh untarnish- 
ed lustre to posterity, we may form some 
determinate idea of what will augment our 
own. It is honourable to human nature to 
discover upon this retrospective view, that 
there are few literarv characters, who have 
maintained any durable or extended reputa- 
tion, and risen superiour to the storms which 
opposed their elevation, that are not approv- 
ed of by our sober judgments; and who have 
not teiided to increase the happiness and mo- 
ral state of man. Prejudice may inflate a 
balloon with emptiness, it may rise in all the 
grandeur of delusive magnificence; but the 
subtest disturbance in the atmosphere caus- 
es It to lose its balance: no longer self-poised 
it is precipitated to the earth, and our won- 
der and admiration are changed into sove- 
reign contempt. 

The authors of ancient Greece who have 
descended to our time, bear strong evidences 
of their illustrious worth. Their credentials 
constrain us to regard them, as accredited re- 
presratatives of the literary reputation of 
their country. It is not the vast horde of vo- 
luouBOus writers, who attained a brief and 
fclse pppulari^d^ngdielatter ages of these 
republicfcs; wkcn nervous vigour atid sub- 
Bme energy werfc dwindled into an emascu- 
lated decrepitude, si^d captious nicety of taste: 
It is not those men who seemed to have lost 
every spark of the aniin^ng fire of genius, 
who sought a temporary elevation, and lost 
• perpetuity of honour. No^ these are not 



the men who have exalted Greece above the 
rude barbarians who encompassed her. — 
While the sophists are forgotten, her philo- 
sophers and poets retain their pristine lustre, 
and towering magnificence. 

The literary history of Rome, of Italy, and 
of England, corroborates these opinions, and 
demonstrates their foundation in nature and 
in truth. Fashions in writing are as change- 
able as any other fashions; but the principles 
of rational virtue, of solid rectitude of un 
derstanding, and correct taste, are funda- 
mental ingredients in the composition of the 
majority of men, in all ages and in all coun- 
tries. In England, th« instances wherein 
eminent men have partially degraded the 
lustre of their genius, by ignoble sacrifices at 
the shrine of a false and illusive popularit)% 
may be alleged as striking illustrations of 
these ideas. Spenser, to accommodate him- 
self to the prevailing propensities of the age 
in which he wrote, sunk into allegory and ro- 
mance; into the heavy insipidity of laboured 
tediousness, too ponderous to be supported 
by the rich exuberance of his imagination, or 
the elastick vigour of his genius. Tliough 
adorned with the rarest and most exalted 
poeticalaccomplishments,with fancy and with 
learning, he is overpowered by the massive 
panoply, which he had assumed for ornament 
and defence. All the beauties of Milton 
are attributed to himself, all his faults to his 
age. When he was guided by the grand law 
which he had prescribed to himself, '' to 
pve something to posterity which they 
should not willingly let die,'' his genius soar- 
ed to the highest empyrean of imagination; 

" " Where angels tremble while they gaze; 
He taw^i till blasted with excess of light 
He doied his eyes in endless night." 

But he sometimes fettered himself with the 
heavy chains of polemick divinity, and tram- 
melled his fancy with metaphysical refine- 
ments. This he did, for such the prevalent 
taste of his age required; to those whom he 
designed to please, let him look for his re- 
ward. At one period Darwin was admired 
as a most astonishing genius, as a wonderful 
poet: scarce half a centur}' has elapsed, and 
his fame has not only begun to wane, but has 
nearly sunk beneath the Uterary horizon. 

The history of the literary world affords 
scope for numerous interesting speculations; 
and assists in no small degree in developing 
the intricacies of the human hearty and the 
nature of the human understanding. It 
throws much light upon the principles of our 
being, and displays die intellectual organiza- 
tion of our species. It afibrds numerous and 
valuable moral truths, and is replete with in- 
terest sufficient to loose the attention of the 
most sluggish^ 



The wayivardness and versatility of the 
human taste, have in no instance been more 
satisfactorily and vividly exhibited, than in 
the relish for different kinds of writing. 
The desire for novelty, inherent in every 
breast, and the dependencv we feel towards 
some self-constituted distributors of literary 
rewards, have in every age, led mankind in- 
to errours of the most palpable absurdity. 
The taste for writing now prevalent, has m 
my opinion the most alarming tendency, and 
threatens the most serious evils. It appears 
to involve not only our literary taste, but our 
moral principles. Our writers indulge in 
the " vand dulcedine** which prognosticates, 
if the experience of past times affords a fair' 
rule of judging, the subversion of every thing 
that can render the study of literature bene* 
ficial in a moral or political view: The same 
symptoms of decrepitude and infirmity which 
were evinced in the decline of Greece ^d 
Rome ; spreading their noxious influence 
through every vein; debilitating and enfee- 
bling the vital stamina of our moral frame. 

These opinions and ideas have occupied 
my mind, since the perusal of the late novel 
of Miss Owenson. I am not an indiscrimi- 
nate opposer of these works of fancy; I ad- 
mire them when their tendency and princi- 
ples are such as my judgment approves. But 
It will remain a stigma, an indelible disgrace 
upon the character of this age, that such a 
writer should meet with encouragement, and 
receive applause. Endued with learning, 
and with fancy she certainly is; but utterly 
deficient in ever}' quality, that can entide her 
to the praise pf christians and of men. She . 
appears to have adopted the Heloise of Rous- 
seau as the subject of imitation, but has only 
equalled it in its most glaringly defective fea- 
tures. Sift well her principles, examine the 
sentiments she endeavours to inculcate: The 
wily serpent appears to be under the influ- 
ence of the musick of her tongue; not to be 
drawn from the prostrate intended victim, 
but to have a more certain passage opened 
into our hearts. 

It has ever appeared to me that Miss Ow* 
enson is wanting in taste; that her language 
exhibits a tinsel gaudiness which must offeml 
any reader who is not vitiated to the extreme. 
To those who have been accustomed to ad* 
mire the elegant simplicity of Miss Bumey, 
whose stvleT of writing comes nearer to the 
purity ot Addison, both in sentiment and 
diction, than any other novelist that I can 
mention; to those who have received any 
pleasure from the wild eccentricity, but gran- 
deur and sublimity, of ^' the mighty magi- 
cian of the mysteries of Udolpho,** I need 
scarcely appeal. Persons who have read and 
I are adequate to admire fully such wrioogs, 



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!264 



THE RURAL VISITER. 



must be disgusted with the affected pretti- 
nesses and unintelligible sentiment of Miss 
Ovvenson. 

These opinions, whether they coincide with 
or differ from^hoseof my icrd^rs, are offered 
with firmness, nnd confidence in their since- 
rity. It has been my aim in these papers, to 
lend my little aid in promotiig those senti- 
ments and doctrines, which a^jpear to m.e to 
be i;i:;:uat<.!y connected \\ith our individual 
and common happiness. The rectitude of 
my intentions must be my excuse for the de- 
ficiency in the execution. But I could not 
refrain from adding this further testimonial 
of n)y opposition to every attempt, however 
contemptible the source, to undermine all 
those principles which form the most power- 
ful ligaments to unite societ)', in a commu- 
nity of interests, and a commuuity of feeling: 
which strengthen the bands of social life, 
and knit more indissolubly the ties of affec- 
tion, while they appear to unite us only with 
a silken and idmost imperceptible chain of 
mucudl dependence ixnd love. 



FOR THE RURAL VISITER. 
Koti w <rc^ffO(ruf»i koli u iyfartix xai tj 

rwrv i/c TWK vofyiffav iffdhiv T^l^e^a/. Meya, 

/xlv yctfy 07/U.0Lt^ iffoY KOlI to ifX^^ KOilaWfOL^OLt, 

tffoKv V Iti fjLulcf, TO xaSoj^a Si«<rcyo-a<r9a/. To 
fjih yoLQ KaSuVy tsroAAax/c tq tok/ulolv juopoy 
tFOLfiOL^o/jLifQ tyirijo • TO Se kocCcy^ol tLecje^vv 
i/iTi THTo Snu (To^foaiitfii^ w6 oiviv iyKfOLJucL^ , 
*V UYiV croxxwc i'Tn/Aihiioif yiyY\\oii. 

Xenophon. De C)t. In. lib. 7. 



To discrifn^nate between the pure deductions of 
unimpasfiioncd reasoning, and the hypothedcal 
suggestions of iDflained imaginatioDSy is one of the 
noblest and most useful exercises of the human 
mind. While we have no sure criterion to which 
to appeal, while prejudices are mistaken for con- 
viction, this cannot be universally obtained. But 
if we cannot perform every thing, much may 
nevertheless be done*. Instead of lamenting the 
weakness of our rational powers, ard aking shelter 
under this paltry e^fcuse, let us review our own 
opinions, canvass our own minds, and endeavour 
to detect and destroy this lurking evil. Much of 
our mental imbecility may fairly be attributed to 
our own acts; and until our most laborious exer- 
tions have been vainly exerted to overcome this 
deficiency, we have no right to offer it in extenu- 
ation of the shortness or uncertainty of our steps. 
Do we never perceive ourselves'involved in con- 
tradictions, and lost In mazes, which have been 
thrown round us by our own acts, or suffered to 
increase by our own negligence, and omission? Are 
we not too. frequently satisfied with the most cur- 
sory and superficial view of a subject, and do we 
not resign our minds to an ignominious, dangerous 
lethargy upen questions, of the most momentous 
concern? What our experience has informed .us 
rias frequently happened, we may suppose will 
<igain occur. And in proportion to the jn umber 
o? times thaf we have perceived it, does the strength 
of the evidence augment; till it rises into what is 
termed moral certainty. It is from thb mode of 
deduction that we look forward to the regular 
vicissttode of seasons; and the revolutions of naTu- 



ral bodies. But io pursuing this train of reason- 
ing upon general questions, every operative cause 
should be duty marked, every circumstance weigh- 
ed. This is too frequently omitted. We perceive 
some remote analogy, some general resemblance; 
and too often are satisfied without exerdng our 
discriminating faculties. 

There are few cases in which a more forcible 
or apposite illustration of the foregoing observa- 
tions can be found, than in the idea so prevalent 
among politicians, that nations are subject to gra- 
dual increments of strength, and rise io just sym- 
metry and proportion till they attain the full ma- 
turity of their vigour; and then from the operation 
of the invariable, uniform laws of nature, must 
subside into their primitive weakness. History, 
both ancient and modern, has been quoted in 
confirmation of this idea; and these proofs have 
wrought the most thorough conviction upon the 
generality of mankind One of the historians of 
France regards it as a first principle in the science 
of politicks; and the learned and judicious Mon- 
tesquieu has adopted the opinion, and expresses 
his assent to it as to ^ received axiom The 
idea is so painful to human nature, so calculated 
to fill our minds with melancholy feelings and 
gloomy forebodings, that we should be cautious 
how we admit into our hearts an opinion so re- 
plete with disagreeable sensations. It is not my 
purpose to enter into a minute examinadon of the 
historical incidents, or the laboured train of rea- 
soning which would be necessary to discuss the 
question with that fulness and precision which its 
importance would seem to require ; the brief limits 
to which we are prescribed, forbid so ample an 
investigation. To throw out a few general re- 
marks will be all that comes within my present 
intent. 

The analogy that has been drawn between man 
as an individual, and nadons, is too weak and 
remote to jusdfy any certain, or even plausible 
conclusion. We are weak and delicate in our in- 
fant state. The vigour and strength of Qiaturity 
are slowly collected, and gradually exhibited. 
The nerves become more tense; the muscles ac- 
quire tenacity and firmness; the intellectual pow- 
ers expand in rich exuberance, and man is at his 
height. But the seeds of dissoludon are inherent 
in his frame. Decrepitude and impotence quickly 
succeed, and he makes room for another to run tl^ 
same melancholy race. But what resemblance b' 
there between our natural frame, and the complex 
structure of the body politick. The reasoning, to 
be correct, would demand that no nadon should 
exist above one generation. The same causes 
which supply strength are not rendered inefficient 
by time ; the channels through Which vigour and 
strength, wealth and talents flow, are neither 
choaked up nor perverted from their natwal course. 
They still exist, ull some other extraneous causes 
injure tmd deform them. 

What are the causes which tend to augment the 
strength, to awaken the facuhies, to increase ^nd 
animate the resources of a nation^ Whatever they 
be, it is only to allow their operation to be con- 
tinued, and their efficiency will never be lessened. 
The state of a nation bears a more exact simiti. 
tude to some complex machine; where diffiprent 
powers, and regulating wheels must produce some 
particiilar end. But in one point this aoaiogy 
fails ; material substances are worn avayt by fre- 
quent attrition, and the machinery in time neces- 
sarily becomes disordered: the wheels and springs 
of a sute are the minds of their ciuiens;" neither 
to, be corroded by ume, nor destroyed by action 
They will ever move on in the same prescribed 



routine, till some foreign matter shall rend or dis- 
organize their struaure. This resemblance is io 
every point of view more complete. 

Let us examine briefly, some of those evidences 
firom history cited in opposition to this opinion. 
Turn your eyes to the sute of Athens, when 
Pericles wielded the sceptre of supreme authority. 
Under his supremacy Athens is supposed to have 
been possessed of more strength and power, than 
at any precedent or subsequent period. The 
splendour of her pubiick edifices; the immense 
resources of the country; the strength of her fleets 
and armies; the elevation to which the polite and 
libera] arts were carried, all denote that she was 
then in the meridian of her glory. But any 
rational politician, could he have abstracted bis 
mind from the contemplation o£ present pomp, 
magnificence and grandeur, might have discerned 
through the gaudy covering, the causes which 
even then were corroding and undermining die 
basis upon which her greatness rested. Pericies 
attained the supreme power by means inauspidous 
to his country's welfiire. Without dwelling upon 
the immediate and obvious effiscts of the means 
he employed, too manifest in the history of that 
period to require recapituladon, permit me to 
dwell on one of the most important. He rose by 
means little calculated to ensure the approbatioo, 
and consequent concurrence of the virtuous part 
of the community; or to deter the ambinoos and 
wicked, firom perfecung schemes for their personal 
aggrandizement. Their tendency^ was on the 
contrary, to disgust and dishearten all real patri- 
ots; to evince the hopelesness of endeavouring to 
advance their country's real and permanent inter- 
ests, and the inefficacy of all their exertions to 
prevent or even delay her downfal. It animated 
the hopes, and urged on the plans of those who 
aimed at building up the edifice of their individual 
greatness, upon the wreck and ruins of the state. 
If anything can augur bad to a nation, it is that 
the virtuous are despised, and precluded from pub- 
lick dudes ; and the most abandoned encouraged 
and animated in their ne^rious projects. If thb 
view of the state of Athens be not sufficient to 
account for the subsequent occurrences recorded 
in her mournful but useful history, it nay be found 
in the luxury which pervaded the city, and weak- 
ened every nerve of the body politick: in the 
universal degeneracy in the morals of the citizens. 
To substantiate these charges^ I will adduce but 
one fact ; the law appropriaung the money that 
had been raised for the common defence of 
Greece, to gratify the people with theatrical exhi- 
bitions. Without dwelling upon the obvious and 
deleterious consequences of thb measure, it may 
be asserted, that such a profligate act of political 
swindling could have originated io no other source, 
than a general and total subversion of morals and 
patriod^ro; the only durable and firm cemefit of 
society, among the individuals who consdtuted 
the nation. As men are in private life, so will 
they be ever found when endued with power and* 
authority. The decline, then, of the Atheaian 
Republick, can be traced, and may £iirly be attri- 
buted to the fault of the citizens; to the com][>' 
uon of dieir private, and consequently pubiick 
morab; to the virulence and power of their hc^ 
tions, which blinded them to t^*" pubiick good 
while advancing an affair in wjirich their feelings 
were engaged ; which j^ave tt> Pericles suprenie 
authority without responsibility: and not to the. 
gradual imbecility produced by age, and the ordi- 
nary rotadon of natural effecu. 

The histories of the dissolution of Persia, of 
Spartai of Carthage and of Tyre, teem with the 



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2&^ 



same political iostruciioaj and folly evince that 
upon the private morals, and the conduct of the 
people depend their rise to glory, and their sub- 
version to ruin. But the history of Rome would 
alone si^ce to demonstrate, beyond the doubts of 
caviHers and scepticks, the truth of my position. 
Her glory began to wane at the termination of the 
Punick wars»* Bloated with wealth and luxury, 
she afterwards displayed to the superficial observer 
greater physical and natural powers ; but it was 
the delusive flush of consumption, the progoosuck 
of actual decay and speedy dissolution Their 
conquests introduced wealth; their wealth engen- 
dered luxury } luxury advanced dissoluteness in 
private morals, intrigues, debauchery, and every 
species of vice; the necessary consequence of 
which was the ruin of the repubUpk. 

The partial civilization of the world in ancient 
times, by aeating a preponderance of power 
which nothing could withstand, raised successive- 
ly nation after nation, to the most commanding 
pre-eminence. They rose in gradual accumula- 
tions of strength, till having no enemies to van- 
quisii, nothing to keep them on the alert, they 
sunk into the arms of a disgraceful, degenerate 
effeminacy. Taught by their example, and rous- 
ed by the dreadful tyranny exercised over them, 
their dependant provinces awoke from the lethargy 
of slavery, and gave the finishing blow to the 
structure, tottering on the brink of ruin through 
its own imbecility and unwieldiness- These reyo- 
lutiona gave the pre-eminence to another which 
rose with a similar succession of victories, and 
sunk under the same pressure. But in the present 
sute of the world, no such sudden exaltations or 
rapid declines are to be apprehended. The sys- 
tem of modern warfare, and the mutual jealousies 
of countries; the force and restraining influence 
of the law of nations, will present in most in- 
sunces an insuperable barrier to those who aim at 
universal domination. These causes have operat- 
ed with wonderful harmony and effect, till the 
late tremendous disruption of all social and politi- 
cal institutions gave a violent shock to its strength, 
and plunged mankind into a new and dismal 
chaos. Nations that relied solely on this protec- 
tion, found it in the hour of trial too weak, to 
restrain, what nothing short of omnipotence can 
hold, the raging elements, and worst passions of 
men, backed and supported by commanding pow- 
er, ready for the work of destruction. This will, 
we trust, again compel them to rely upon them- 
selves; to place their chief dependance upon the 
morals of their citizens: and then will mey be 
safe. ** Accustom yourself," said the admirable 
Phocion to Aristias, " to discover in the £ue of 
nations that recompense annexed 1^ the great 
Author of nature, to the practice of yirtue. Never 
has a sute ceased to be prosperous, till she had 
departed from those institutions to which she 
owed her exaltation.'' 

From this brief review of the question, some I 
tmst, will be encouraged to examine the histories 



* To speak in the energetick and convincing 
language of Sallust, **^nte Cartbajihum dektam^ 
popuitUi it Stnatiis Ronutf pUuidi modestequi inter 
te rempuUkam traciaiant: neque gJorue nequi domtU' 
ati^ms certamm mter cives erat: metus hostilis in 
bonis artibui ci^Matem n^nebai, sed nbi formido ilia 
meniibni deeeuitf Hicef ea fits secimdd ru amatUi 
lasciviaf aiam /i^rii^, tnceaere. Namque expert 
nobiliiat Affutmm^ M^nt Uirtatm in UkOum 
merterif nbi qmiqne £u»%^ trehert^ rapert. ha 
mnma in dmat porta abttracta nmt^ reip. gna nudia 
Jntrati dOaurt^r SdL de Bell. Jog. 



of the prosperity and downfal of countries. The 
investigation is an interesting and useful one, and 
will amply repay the labour expended upon it. 
Political knowledge is necessary for die inhabitants 
of a free sute, and cannot be acquired by intuition. 
Time and reflection are necessary; but to employ 
our time, and to oxercise our reflection in such a 
manner, should be regarded not as a troublesome 
task, but as one of the grandest and most exalted 
privileges of freemen. 

NEON^ 



FOt THE AURAL VISITES. 

On reading Scott's "Ode to Childhood.** 

Wherefore is man so prone to trace 

Bliit in every absent grace' 

To muse on years at distance past, 

And^/roe because they cannot last?^- 

So tardy ever to survey 

The splendours of the present day; 

If real do not intervene 

Imagined clouds must dim the scene- 
Why our Childhood's visions stray. 
And deem them happier than those 

Which future days permit to play- 
To cheer Life's noon— or gild its close? 

Why overlook th' enlightened mind 

Maturcr years bestow, 
That light which frur inquirers find 

From Wisdom's fountain flow? 

To gaze on childhood^s vanished "joys,'* 
And •' mourn" its train of rifled toys, 
And mourn them as their loss had power 
To darken tvtry future hour; 
And left behind none else of worth 
To cheer our pilgrimage on earth?— 
The *• bounding ball** whose reign is o'er. 
The "circling top" that charms no more— 

*Tis mine with warm delight to gaze 
" Fond on their little early ways,** 
Who whirl the top— direct the ball 
And oft my pleas *d attention call— 
Their little feat^ — ^their victories see, 
Atid/ecl the joys of infancy.— 

Yet what are they when weigh'd with tliine, 
Celestial Reason! Light Divine, 
That guid'st the Pilgrim on his way. 
And promises a brighter day ? 

What arc they all?—! grant them sweet 

As Infancy can bear, 
For then bin transiently we meet 

The visitings of Care; 
And then a gleam of feeble joy 
Pain's fragile empire can destroy. 

Yet what are these when weigh'd with thine, 
Celestial Reason! Light Divine, 
That guid'st the Pilgrim on his way, 
And promises a brighter day? 

V. M. 



FOR THE BUEAL VISITER. 

To those who have but few hours of lei- 
sure, their recurrence is so highly prized, 
that they often pass away before we can con- 
clude in what way they may be appropriated 
to produce the most satis&ction. Of this 
observation I had occasion to acknowledge 
the truth, as I lately walked into my study, 
and sat down before a library which it would 
require the leisure of an ordinary Kfe to pe- 
ruke, much more to digest into knowledige. 
1 he mukiplicity of s\:d)ject8 which lay before 
me, overpowered my imagination, and en- 
tirely suspended the power of choice; so 
that the precious hour which I had intended 
to appropriate to the acquisition of some new 
ideas, or the resolution of some doubts, pas- 
sed away without my opening a single vo- 
lume. 



I was insensibly led into a re very upon 
the various motives by which authors have 
been actuated, and which h?A-e Let n the 
source of such a profusion of books, which 
seem, in commentaries, criticisms, and re- 
views, to multiply upon each other, like the 
heads of the fabled hydra; so that the art oi 
printing has entailed upon the world, toge- 
ther with its advantages, evils proportioniHly 
great. Even setting aside ** its malignant 
influence upon morals," it may be asserted 
"of its effects dn literature, that it basin- 
creased the number of books till they dis- 
tract, rather than improve the mind." How- 
ever " easy a task" it may be, " for the criti- 
cal discernment" of those whose whole lives 
are devoted to study, "to select from the 
surrounding mass o£ absurdity" what may 
be really useful; to those who have no more 
leisure thati may suflice for the acquisition of 
general knowledge, the voluminous form in 
which knowledge is now exhibited, b cer- 
tainly a serious evil. Evcrj- subject is so 
difliisely treated, and pursued into such in- 
numerable ramifications, that the inquirer is 
obliged to wade through volumes to gain the 
information which, if condensed to its intrin- 
sick worth, might t>e contained in a few 
pages. Even leaving out of the account all 
books which arc pernicious, or absurd, or in 
any respect capitally defective, the increase 
of books has certainly been in a much greater 
ratio than the increase of knowledge: Every 
new book must almost unavoidably contain 
much of vhat was previously extant. — 
Coidd we find some method of winnowing 
the chaff from the wheat— could we bum up 
all that was pernicious or defective; and lop 
away all that was redundant in what remain- 
ed, the whole fimd of useful knowledge 
might probably be brought within the com- 
pass ot the time and fortune of the middle 
ranks of life. 

But however the press may have mingled 
evil with godd in regard to the sciences, the 
disadvantages which the world has sustained 
on these points are light, when compared to 
those which have resjihed upon the subject 
of morals. Here, all that is absurd, obscene, 
or profane, has disgorged itself from the pli- 
ant pens of authors pressed by hunger, love 
of fame, or fear of man. Most of the sci- 
ences depend upon principles which can be 
subjected to the test of actual experiment, 
and made obvious to the common sense of 
mankind: They are topicks upon which there 
can exist no powerful motive for misleading 
the judgment; where there would be little 
chance of giving stability to errour if at- 
tempted; and where, if even established, er- 
rour in theory' would produce but little efr^ct 
upon • the practical operations of ordinary 
life. On the contrary, in the vast and unde- 
fined regions of speculative morals, where 
subtile and fluctuating elements elude the 
grasp of reason; neither means nor motives 
arc wanting for the fabrication of every spe- 
cies of falsehood and illusion, that can vhiate 
the taste, or corrupt the heart. The gripe of 
hunger has probably caused many an author 
to pour forth his nonsensical rhapsodies for 
the amusement of the idle; the hope of the 
"momentary buz?: of v^in renown," has 



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THE RURAL VISITER. 



produced the same effect upon many others; 
often the prurience of downri^t sensuality 
has been gfratified in depicting its own fea- 
tures in many a loathsome page; while "the 
abominable licentiousness of the writings of 
others, is to be traced not merely to the wan- 
tonness of a depraved fancy, but to fixed de- 
signJ*^* And we of the present generation 
have lived to see exhibited throughouta wide 
and populous empire, ** The extraordinary 
phenomenon of a regular, systematick, ela- 
borate organization of falsehood, as the ba- 
sis of the government, and the soul of all its 
publick acts." Of die works of all the above 
description of writers, the poison has devolv- 
ed exclusively upon morals* 

To cure this evil at the present day— to 
prevent the further increase of books which 
contain nothing worthy of preservation— but 
more especially to put a stop to the publica- 
tion of books of an evil tendency, there ap- 
pear to be but two efficient means: These 
are, legislative interference, and reformation 
of taste. The first is liable to so many ob- 
jections, that perhaps the remedy would be 
worse than the disease. The latter then, 
seems to be the only safe and effectual 
one: For to hope, that unprincipled writers 
will cease to write, or unprincipled printers 
to print, while there is a world of readers suf- 
ficiently weak or depraved to purchase and 
admire their productions, would argue an 
egregious deficiency in the knowledge of hu- 
man nature. But how b this desirable re- 
formation to be effected? Not, surely, by di- 
recting our efforts towards those whom habit, 
prejudice, and years have confirmed in their 
predilection for pernicious books. To pro- 
duce any material and lasting change in the 
mind to which education has given its cha- 
racter, is a t^k which exceeds the power of 
reason, though assisted by all the blandish- 
ments of eloquence, and pointed by the acu- 
men of wit. Oar attention must be princi- 
pally directed to a field of labour, which pro- 
mises more reasonable grounds for the hope 
of success: We must plant and cherish the 
germs of virtue and true taste in a more pro- 
pitious region; in a soil not pre-occupied by 
sturdy growths of vice or folly. Such a field 
presents itself in the pure and ingenuous 
minds of children — fresh from the hands of 
nature and their maker. We are inexcusa- 
ble if we leave this precious soil barren, or 
{productive only of weeds. Yet it is to be 
eared, that education with a view to those 
great points— -the establishing of a correct 
taste, and giving a proper direction to the 
current of diought and attention, is too mudi 
neglected. For this neglect several reasons 
may be assigned, viz: the want of a compe- 
tent knowledge in parents to direct the edu- 



* There is ai^ aggravation of guilt in this hypo- 
thesis^ doubly shocking to the moral sense. 

Wai^sh. 
For the frigid villainy of studied lewdness, for the 
calm fiudigiiity of laboured impiety, what apology can 
be invented? What punishment can be adequate to 
the crime of him who retires to solitude for the refine- 
ment of debaachery; who tortures his fancy and ran- 
sacks his memory, only that he may leave the world 
less virtuous than be found it; that he may intercept 
the hopes of the rising generation* and spi4ad snai«8 
for the soul with more dexterity. 



cation of their ofi&pring; or of full convic- 
tion of its importance in the points alluded 
to; but chiefly perhaps to the erroneous sys- 
tem, commonly adopted by those whose cir- 
cumstances render it necessary to circum- 
scribe their plan of education, both as to time 
and expense. How many af the most pre- 
cious years of the children of such, are 
thrown away in going through, or rather pas- 
sing over, a course of arithmetick, and per- 
haps some branches of the mathematicks; 
which in 99 cases in a hundred, their future 
destinies will nevtr call into action— -and 
against which there lies yet a much heavier 
objection; which is, that owing to the non- 
age of the pupil, and the superficial manner 
in which such an one must necessarily be 
taught, they afford no salutary exercise to 
the mental faculties. It is an observation too 
little attended to, that the object of education 
in early life^ is not so much to give instruc- 
tion, as to qualify and predispose the mind 
for acquiring it. Were these objects made 
the grand desideratum-— were the minds of 
children exercised in such studies as are 
adapted to their comprehensions — were they 
made more thoroughly acquainted with the 
genius of their mother tongue— (the medium 
through which, chiefly, they are to receive 
not only knowledge, but much of the rational 
enjoyment of lifej and above all, were their 
mmds sedulously imbued with a taste for 
improving company, and for the pursuit of 
pure English literature — ^were a plan of edu- 
cation like this adopted universally, we 
might reasonably hope, that such a perma- 
nent bent would be given to the character, as 
would be visible in every act and circum- 
stance of maturer years; and that the next 
generation would not be under the necessity 
of resorting for amusement to the volumes 
of trash which are suffered to consume the 
time and vitiate the taste of so many in the 
present day. L. 



FOl THE RURAL VISITER. 

On perceiving an appearance of decay en the 
leaves of a favourite Willow — ^ISOa. 

And must I see thy foliage fade again, 

Without the power to save thee from decay; 
See all thy withered beauties strew the plain, 

Nor longer veil me from the glare of day? 
Ah short-lived covert— sweet, unstable friend! 

How oft thy pensive shadow I have sought; 
How gently round me would thy branches bend. 

And teem almott to share my secret thought. 
Here I have mused on life's uncertain joys, 

And dar'd to raise my intellectual view 
To realms where bliss no stroke of death destroys. 

Or friends rejoin*d can longer fear adieu. 

Here, jronth's delusive visions 1 have moum'd, 

And broken ties too fondly deem'd secure. 
Till from these dark^to brighter scenes I tum*d, 
. As something whisperM, ••Time will bring a cure.'* 
Yet— that grwt stream which rolls oncheck*d along. 
And sweeps down royriada with unconscious 
power, 
Will bear away Malvina and her song, 

And leave no trace to mark her fleeting hour. 

When some few years their hasty circles roll 
To join the moments of prin>eval d»y; 

This now confin'd, then liberated soul * 
Shall burst the bonds that fetter it to day. 

Toyeart perhaps the span may not extend. 
Which, the pra»iuDptii9iif dares to cMRsure now- 



Some hovering stroke the feeble thitad may re* 
And draw death's shadow round her vera z 
brow. ' 

Soch thing« bane been-^and sich again may l^ 
Then think, my soul, how much is to be d( .':<»• 

Kor let me pause to mourn a fading tree. 
Which will re-flourish in the vernal son. 

Bnxfed that n^ {nobationary day 

Advances fleetly on unwearied wing- 
That now— e«e» noto, it hastens to decay* 
And passes from me while its fi^ht I sing. 
MALVt 

TOR TBB RVRAl. VtSlTER. 

Written on passing Burlington^tn the steam- 
doa(.^ 

Sweet town of weeping willows. 

And poplars tall and straight, 
How pleasant on the billows 

I listen to the prate 

Of Caty did! 

I sit me down attentive 

To catch the sprightly sound; 
But steam-boat whtds fireventivt^ 

The chiq[»ing quite confound 

Of Caty did it. 

Yet still superiour rise 

Above the roars of steam# 
Sounds that my ears surprise: 

An opposition scream 

That Caty didn't. 
Again-^what says another? 

Than t'other sage more wise;- 
Brother is set on brother, 

And tells him flat he lies; 

That Caty did it tf- 

LovM town! with grief I hear 

Whilst passing thus along. 
That peace--to thee so dear. 

Should suffer midst a throng 
Of Caty dids. 

For Buriington! thy charms 

fjike /)oft upon a vine- 
Hang thick— and fell alarms 

Come oily with such swine 

As Caty dids. 
Ah! banish from thy boughs 

This rude, tumultuous herd. 
Who cause such ceaseless rows. 

And take the humming bird. 

Not Caty dkl it. 
Then to jSolian sounds, 

Fathers and mothers all; 
Till time's extremest bounds 

In a deed sleep may fall: 

Whilst Caty does'nt. 
But now where'er thy sons- 
Like green cont hoppers stray. 
They chirp discordant puns; 

And growling seem to say - 

That Caty did it iV. 
Thy pretty daughters then. 

Sweet Uttsies without art! 
Like Lilliputian men, 

Cry out on Caty's part. 

That Caty did*nt. 
September. 1810. q. 

* This was mislaid and omitted in its prfloer ns- 
soni We mtended to have kept it until Caty 4d make 
us another visit—but In present Gircumttances» *tu w^ 
oriiever.-*£D. 



To a mind not pcrfecdy at eas^i there is 
somethmg eictremely pleasing jn the quiet- 
ness oi the country. It is like that aitihciai 
repose which is acquired by,opiates aiter long 
watching; like that too, though it neither 
strengthens nor nourishes^ it allows ua tune 
to recover our faculties^ which are oftoi as 
much harassed ti^ living coostantiy in tbe 
midst of crowidsi aa our nerves aro hy «> 
acute disease*. 



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AMERICAN ESSAVISr. 

" Delectundo paritertiue moTicntlo.*' 

And mingles sage insiroction with delig*it. 

Where the Jumna empties his venerated 
stream into the Ganges, lived Aiadin the her- 
mit. Age had shed' her snows on his head, 
and the burning chariot of the sun had oitea 
rolled round the earth, since his birth. In the 
heat of July, when the glowing warmth ot the 
sun made the climate of ilindostan almost 
insupportable, Hasan the young, pursued his 
journey along the banks of the Jumna. — 
Though nature's gaudiest flowers bloomed 
beneath his feet, and shed their fragrance 
through the air; } et fatig-ue and the sultry 
weather almost overpowered him. Fortu- 
nately he espied the hut of Aiadin. He en- 
tered with modesty and caution. From his 
hard bench Ahidin started in surprise. T};is 
was the first time for many years ihat the 
foot of a stranger had pcnetruttd to his ves- 
tibule. He welcomed, however, die unknown 
with cordiality, and profcred his rudo seat. 
" And who art thou:^' at length said Aiadin. 
" Hasan the young, from the mountains of 
Cape Comoriii. Oh! I have undergone the 
labours of battle, and iollowed the bounding 
tygcr, but never felt the fatigno of this day." 
*^ \V' eary stranger,^' said Aiadin, " the road 
through life is long and thou must expect 
that in some pkces it will likewise be dreary. 
But partake ol this rude fare and sip the ve- 
getable cordial, and repose irom the fatigue 
of thy journey." With thankful heart Hasan 
accepted the offer of the hermit. He ret resil- 
ed him8elf,and thus addressed Aiadin. *' Ve- 
nerable father, I was bon:i at the foot of the 
mountains of Cape Comorin. My parents 
were w ealthy and honoured in Travancore. 
I received such an education as independent 
opulence and parental kindness could aiTord. 
At the age of eighteen my lather called me 
to his onion (study) and said, 'O my Hasan, 
it is now time that you emerge Uc^w the 
shades of domestick obscuritv, and vii.it the 
world. Go, g^^ ;"r»d gain knowledge (A mau 
I^eam the science oi humanity, which vill 
better profit you th.'C the most abstruse re- 
searches of the Profchsors of Henart s. Here 
is a purse that shall fmnish vou with all you 
can desire, and the credit of your father will 
attend you on your travels.' I abed tlit" t'-ar 
of filial love» for I grieved to leave my pa- 
rents. Oh my father! would I now were ai 
thy beloved mansion. — But tears are unavai- 
ling. — I made ready to depart the next week, 
and the day previous to the commencement 
of my journey I assembled the youth of my 
acquaintance to bid them a last farewell — 
They came, and parental lil^erahty heaped 
the innocent board. When conversation had 
succeeded to recreation^ and the viands with- 
drawn, rav father and mother entered the 
hull. *Son,^ said the fontier, 'pledge to thy 
companions the farewell glass,' I drnjik it as 
I wept, and God knowa how sorrowful I felt. 
My father then addressed me before my 
young friends: * Hasan, you have called to- 
gether your friends, atid you have drank the 
farewell glass with them. It now remains that 
I make those refibectioas which are suggested 



THE RURAL VISITER. 

by your s'tuation. Th«^. v»'orld is open before 
ycu, r.^vl in vour traveiij you will me^t with 
men of every d^sciiiAion. Inexperience 
would tell you that to live comfortably wilii 
men of diffennt characters, you must coii- 
fonn yourself lo your company. But, my 
son, mischief lurks in such advice, and be- 
ware of itii nsinuaiirig seduction. Be virtu- 
Gus to all that you may be u/tdauiifrrihtioTc 
all. Virtue is that hliif^hi which is ever at- 
tended with the ft^vordof confckncc. The 
happy man who has attained the former is 
sure of acquiring the bttcr. This precept, 
my son, is abundantly sufficient for ihe regu- 
lation of your fituie life. Guarded by thi- 
you shall pass unbanned throup;h p^-idou- 
danger, :,ik] when human aid fail^, God v.'ili 
assist th^: virtuous/' 



SEIiEc TED POU THE ftURA.!- VISITER. 

By inserang the following lines ycu 'ftill oblige 
one of your Subscribers. 

TO THE MOON. 

Beloved orb! mine infant eyes 

Hd\e trac'd thee oft, midst ether bine, 

What tunc the pov/er of evening sheds, 
0*cr sleeping flowers, the genial dew. 

Oft too, while youth's gay meteor bumM 

And fancy lent her m^gick s^jcII, 
To thy bright paih ir.int: e)e? were turn'd, 

Anu blest the beam the) lor'd so well. 

And still though disappointed hope 

And deep regret, my bosom tear, 
O still. I love, thy pensive ray 

Sou beaming thror.gh the midnight air. 

For, *mid3tthat pale andshadewy light, 

What dear remembrances arise; 
What forms, for earth too angel bright 

Float on my rapt, yet aching eyes! 

Foremost an infant clierub stands, 

Soft bending from a silvery clot^d, 
Whose light folds wrap the vision round, 

And half its heav'nly radiance shroud. 

Ycl! 'tis herself! Iki^owitwell — 

That eye of blue — those blooming cheeks, 

Those lips, from whence, in rousick's sound 
The dear lov\i narac of mother breaks. 

Ah! let me fold thee to my heart! 

That heart, which stUl thy absence mourns; 
Alas! I clasp the impressive air: 

The fatal dying scene returns. 

How prcciouB was the angc! smile. 

That on her lip a moment dwelt; 
How dear, the pressure of those arms 

Which, twining round my neck, I felt! 

Did then niy poor deluded heart 

Dream, that before thy setting ray, 
That smile should stiffen into death, 

1 ho*c tvnning aims be lifeless clay! 

Let me aot think — be n^em'ry dead: 
V\\ not remember aughi that's o'er; 

Shade of my babel when life is past, 
Shall we oot meet to part ao more. 

CLARA. 



*;•« 



ON SENSIBILITY. 

ByTHF '.UTHOfl or NATALr 501 UM. 

When I meet with a heart to which feeling is de;<» , 
And think on the world where by fortune *ti . 
cast: 
The love that I bear it \$ clouded widi fear, 
For that heart when opprcst by advcrsity't 
blast. 

As a beautiful snow-drop that r.-^ars its mcrk rnrru^ 
When around it all ruthless the winter wind 
blow; 
Too ttnder for hardship, must die by the stcr-r,. 
So the heart which hac feding will sink beii Vx,v 
woe. 

Put If keen arc its sorrows, its pleasures are higki 

They arc social and pure, nor to «clfishne.>r 

known; 

To relieve die distresj^M and the teardrop to dry. 

With the union of 5f"-i]?, these are swef^'y no 

own. 

A lid should s'jcf) a hz\n by that power who ch.^ 
save. 
Have the tomb as a refuge from cruelty ^^iv^'w^ 
Like the snow-drop 'twili rise from its earth-bed 
the grave, 
But its spring shall be cndicst — its garden !j^ 
heaven. 



FOR TIIK RURAL VISITKH. 

HOROLOGY. 

The invention of Chrouometers is exrlt; 
sively modern. T.ie ancienu hud no such 
injn-nious, and indeed wonderful macliines, 
;t& our clocks and watches. ^J'lie Ronia/^ 
were fain to mrasurc the lapse oi tune by 
the dropping of w^ater, much alter the man- 
ner of i^ur nautical aj)paratus, of tht hour 
Sjl.iss of sand. The p«;rfer.iion of the', social 
arts being the divi:5ion of labuur, and a min- 
ute attention to things in detail, hence tnc 
impc^rtance of a just distribution and pimc- 
tual improvement of time. Inatrumencs, 
therefore* to measure the silent and often 
imperceptible lapse of time, are important; 
especially in an improved state of society, 
where a multiplicity of objects and appoint- 
ments relative to individual and social pur- 
suits, are to be attended to. These instru- 
ments, both clocks and watches, arc now 
bi ought to a considerable degree of perfec- 
tion; though there appears to be constantly 
some change making in the fashion of them. 
The Arabick figures seem jusdy to be com- 
ing in vogue in place of the Roman charac- 
ters, on the dial, as more simple and eiegmt. 
Some other improvements seem to be re- 
quired, which 1 shall endeavour to suggest 
by and by. 

The invention of the clock, which is a 
more exact chronometer than the wutch, is 
said to have been in part Galiileo's. At IcHst, 
the application of the pendulum principle 
was his. He was of. a prvofound mind, and 
entering a saloon, in which a superb hanging 
lamp was suspended, he observed it to vacil- 
late, or w^ave backward and forwar<fin equii! 
lapses of timei simply in proponion to tlv^ 



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T. !:-c't' 3V ■ •tnpjr. iii^^ iDi.onti'Oven"lbic:, kiid 
^' ^: r'-^r*ndatu)n ot tht- clock. VViiat ron)?.*nv-d 
-/:,b \j) the api^lkatlon of niechaiusni> to give 
:i conimued mome.^.tan^ to overcome the 
.'/v inrrtjr^y ^^<\ ^n index to shew tht' pro- j 
vvivjcbof thi vacillations* lliis \ras ttccom- , 
.»lir,htd by aGennan, b'> mt ans of weights 



t. 



Uion; we nro 
; rehict. nii^v 



unucr 
of dn 



t:v.' necer^- 
^^ 



r\u^ 



i r-r.u; the 






r:d n : 



cries of ingeniou*^ly com rived wheel- 
^\ ork. The principle of the waich is pretty 
^iiiiilar, though rather less obvioas; the time 
l).'t-,^ in a conipound proportion lo thv radi 
;v <jl the balarre wheel, and to the length of 
'\\c jpriny -^.^t ached to it. 

Ill i!ie vibj alien of the pendulum, the 
\\ inbt s- rvc?i only to wAii the rrqusitc mo- 
n;er:Tou-i, to keep up th? motion. If more 
ncltht be added, the vibrations will be lar- 
'^er, but not quicker as to .^ucccssion. T he 
irt'.tion will be rapider, h.ivingfartlicr to go; 
b Mt the rctarn will be m the same time. 1 he 
^'^'nv^th of the pendiiiuin is the»efore the de- 
r.lderatuui, and could tins be exactly obtairx- 
.ul anil kept, the tiuic would be exact. Biu 
t's action ot heat and cold is forever vary In^^ 
:!;i! icni^iu o: the pendulum rod, and froir 
ihiv c.'.ud^! very conhidtra.ble irregulaiiticb in 
ihe mo yen.* Mi* '^'clorVn arise. In win*er,lhc 
iron rod ccatractin^';, the tin.u will be too fast. 
':u.d in summer, iiom tbe dilatation of the 
.^an.e, it will be too slow. Various remedies 



tfie pf-j^e!:r, Editors oi ncv*i>,>u]iers \\i\o 
Wdv^ '.'Xehangcd their gazcUes with us, ex- 
Cv^jii'u;^ th^5e for whom wc sta:id aireuts in 
tb.i ~. ciiv, will th* rcfore plea"-*' lo sinp thtm*. 
and tiiose of our subscribers who arc yet iu 
arrears ate reqvKstcd to pay the amount of 
their sc' -script ions, either to us. ui to ouf 
oj^CHts iu their tesptilive ne".^;ii)o;.irho(Hls. 
We would thuak such as wish tluir volumes 
bound t(^ let us have them immcdlateh ; as it 
will be an :ucorr.modation to bind the whole 

is :-T-^ cents. 
eXj^r'S- 

tO tJK. 



TO COHRESPONDENIS. 

Tlii're «s a ^wect rcUef in minghng ojr tears v\; '^ 
those of a brotiier in affJ'cti'-n— »u?../f u *--u " irK.irn- 
i the loss" of htR ** 'i<.l>," and Cltrraxk 'Sigiini^ ior ui^r 
perfidious William," have in each other's society ap- 
parent} y f'^rgT. tbejr troubles. 

hi Ciu we do nof rccfgn'ie our • lil and niLch rt 
greiifd fri'ind; we ther^-fore bani*ih him for a foi^cr- 



jgtth<'r— the price Ir-r bin 
\\ t canr.ot crnii on thi^ 



s:ng our 
veiura'M; 






iU 



lor 



ortasi; u 
:no\\ led gnu'ii us 
Iiis stca<iv a; id 



support .j'-m ^he comn\cncemer.t o<" oiu r;i- 
iK-r — more m e need not say; as Zt^iia on be- 
half cf hrrsev ^^c]-.ant*> toelieLrhi.s road./' 
and it would be folly iu us to ''i.dd the feeble 
trilji/vc uf c'^r piais*'," \vhen tiicij '* all ov/u 
that he is u a\y u ise." To our other patrons 
we alio pr'.sent our warmest thanks. V\ he- 
th' r or no we luive fulfilled our engag- ments 
as brauil ai llie first number, rests with the 
publick t'> judt^c: if vre have failed in ihe at- 
tt tnpt, it h.is been from want of time to pav 
diat attention to it, ^^hich a periodical publi- 
cation of this kind requiies — ^this is our onlif 
reason lc»' now su.^pcndinv; It a's'ihilc. When 



lO HK SOU), 
A VALUABLE PLANTATION, 

In Burlington count), New-Jersey, near the village 
of Bord'-'ntown. and vrrhm a quarter of z milt f f •! .'. 
river Delaware; contalnii^g; about one hundred raid te^ 
arrfs of ;;ood la* d, abcii twe\ity f*ve acres *~f wh.c^t i\ 
exct'llei:! botrrm inc^fl.'w. ar.J liken o^ -i Wc-?,. i.u -a- 
propcrt'on ot wocdlauu; all cf which is ufsdcr g- lx. 
fcoct" There aie on the preniitet* «. largf fruipc iU-<c\ 
hn^ housf, a large brick ban», :} ni'g house, ^n..^' 
hoit^c, and a well of iricci excellent lAarcr at the do r 
The si'^nation is high, air) and pleas int. As it lo pn 
fturr.cd no j>ci''un wrv/id wish to purchase witfaotu v''l*v 
int^ the premises, % further de^cnpiicn there.>i is i' 
»u'V';'.arv: Po.s-,r. -.ion may l>e ha<l immediate! v !•< • 
])ar:ici:lars in^piire *ii Richard Allison, merch?.:5t, t 
Borci'^ntowT,. 

7 mo. lOih, 1 8: 1. 



»vc 



been proposed, but an obvious one,] the objection ceases to operate we *sh:dl witl; 



tlouK-h it mav not be so fully exact, is to have 



a woodi- 



b'>te"id o\ a'l iron lod. Wood Is 
•'.:: little bt;bjecl to coniiaulion t^r dilatnion 
rv afmo^phorical chanj^f.*;. Dan.p and di y 
■.ill lomcwKat aftect ii lateially, but littk 



loiigiJudinalh . 



A mahcKanv peudulun- ^s 



iberefore anobvioui and cousid-rible im- j recurring admouiticiis, which steal 



panement iu clocks, wbi^h requires f^aly to 
i)e con.^idercd, to be gcru rally approved and 
prcleiTcd. 'Hie dill'erence in ti)e keeping of 
tunc, will be louud to t>e ve^y consWlernbiL. 

Dr. Franklm basinhisphib, .-^phical writ- 
l:>gs proposed au improvement u. the dial of 
our clocks. I'hey now diviae the natural day 
.nto twice twelve hours; and have the hour 
' .r.d of the clock to i evolve tM ice in i4 hours. 
H sui^^ests, that to have this hand to rc- 
' jIvc but oncf* in 2-1 hours iwvdd be a xii'sxc 



ple;isure rerume it; beinc; dec idetlly of the 
sentiment, tl at *' it h by such vdiiclcs that 
fiound moraU, ^iib^hifUvd op'ruions, aed 
y.ui taste are to be disseminated amouirihe 
gi'eat mass of our lellovv-citizeus, wiio are 
evcK ready to listen to these l)ricf, and oft 

upon 
them in the form of amusement, at t'mcii 
when they would shrink from the i^e minp; 
labour of reading voluminous productions." 
in thus clo: Jng a channel through which 
they haje so lonj^; held, to them an iiiteresi- 
ing corresjx)ndence with the puMick. the 
Editors are at a loss to describe tf Cir sensa- 
tions; lest they caight be accused of expres- 
sing what they did not feel, or of fceh.>g- 
what so trivial a circumstance did not aulho- 
rizv.: — ^not considering that it seems to be a 



(Q^^ Th r Jo liojvr ^' per so h Sy f^gt n 'y / > -' 
//.i' Eirrnl Vi.K7ltr^ arc ai^i/iorized to r \ c'tj 
siihsc7-7ptions and givc rccr'ipts b7i '.,f^h(Jf .: 
ilic Ilditors: James I\ Parke. Ihok'i<f ? , jV,. 
75, C/u:.7uitSt. PhUaci.'phia; Ezra S(.r{;i,^.' 
coryjcr of Br:ja'iivay and IVaii Str rt^ },\-' • 
2^'r.c; R. Xr. Cooper, Canul-n.N.y. /Kc, 
C\ floods lV:,odl}Uffj: ili'.K'a.i Rid:acn, /:• ' . 
fladdonfleld- Sayrucl CGk\ or GiUk' - Pav. 
nI':orc^:t&xvn; A!(':-.audi-r Shh'iS, 3Jou.ii- 



H: ihj: haac Carlh U , Nnv~ Mi Ua ; 



th 



I.(nvrauc\ B'-rdcntOicn; M. tf y. Simmou\ 
Chcsterftldi Dan'iel Lcighy Alicntoii-'^- jci.t. 
Handicap CrnpJ'Lrrrj; James Orariy Trc7it':: 
S, Ahrfir!, Pria-Scto:!; Bernard S?niihy T 
Jintnsivick; Sim ten Drake, Ambcij^ -T/-. .^ 



yarkf^cn^ Jl 



JatUOi CfiJ'jmcn , Elizabeth - 7 c xvu .- 



1 rtptesentati'/a of the diurnal revolu- } passion instilled in our nature, that lo what 
^ ' T 1 r ^^^^ we accu«itom ourselves for a lenj^th of 

tune, we become insensibly and strongly at- 
tached, and are unable to withdraw ourselves 
from it without feeling a btank wb^h no- 
thing can immt diaiely supply. *' It is im- 
possible to give up anything witliout sorrow, 
but what we ]30ssess without passion." This 
shews the power of habit, and the impor- 
tance of forming good ones. With a wish 
that we may all be fully sensible of this, and 
act accordinglify we bid our readers general- 
ly a respectlul and affectionate farewell. 



^;oij ot thi sun. Our dials, or clock faccs, 
vouid then have the uhole four and twenty 
'■.OUTS marked upon them; the , upper twelve 
J . [)rcsentiug mid-0ay , th^ under twelve, mid- 
,u:;ht. Six o'clock in the morning would 
'■•e marked as at tiie rational hoiizon, to the 
K'i^ and six in the evening, to the riglit, and 
so of the rest. As this is a subject of taste 
and fancy, though founded, like all other 
'r=itances of true taste and fancyi upon phi- 
losophical principles, it is worthy of the 
attention of th^ lovers of the arts; parti rular- 
Iv as recommended by so respectable an 
authority as Dr. Franklin. Agricola. 

EDITORIAL. 

This numt>iir concludes a v-*ar since the 
commencement of the Rural V isiter: and as 
W' are now making arranpjcments to oiiiicr- 
take a very arduous publication — a Critical 
Pi onouncing Dictionary of the F.ni^lish Lan- 
guage, which will demand our undivided at- 



(j3* Complete files of the Rural Visiter, 
half bound, may be had at this office, James 
P. Parke's Bookstore, Philadelphia, or Ezra 
Sargeant^s, New- York. 

•/ We are authorized to state that the collectioni* 
made by the committee for the sufferers by the fire at 
Newbur>i>ort amounted to 287 doUai^, which sum has 
been remitted by the Mayor. 



J' 

Mralhia^ Duy^ xStiVcrK, Josf^ph BrrHf:- 
hursts Wilmik^'tcn. Dei. Rci^ert //. Sriith 
ChrhUauna; Rev, John E, Latta^ Nixico 
tie; John Barrett ^ Esq. Dover; Thorr..:.^ 
Wainivr'f^ht, CarideJi; David Paynter^ l.eiv- 
isto'vn; iUddaudcttf^ Oliver^ Alilford, ]Vil:lan 
H. IVelh^ L'^iq. Dav^sh^rongh^ hnk Pre-- 
ter^ Ua!ti}>:ore^ jlluryland; G(fory\' Mit^ii-lL 
Elk I on; Andjro^e Whtti\ Sn/jwhdl; ^/ames 
yf. C'JiinSy Poplartown and Bnl'in, yc;,s'.-/A 
JIi/Iiga?i^ Gcorgetcxvn^ D. C\ Richtird I.'fU\ 
Atexa.idria, C\ Bonsai, Norfolk, Vir.; Phd[: 
Fistcr, Richmond; E, G. BlaLe^Pettr'.burc , 
P. Wilson^ Fredrrrrkshurg; 1\ Brumdi \ 
DiiKifries; Cropper and B'andkk, y^.cc- 
Vfiack; Dr. Park^r^ Nrjrthampion; Heiidff 
.^0)1 and Coh\AVdha)n^burg; Rohert ycu*- 
don, Suff'olk. Postmaster, JVmdsor. S\ Car'- 
Una; Joseph B. Hlnton, IWishingtcn; Jol:. 
Harveu^ Nnvhen\\ Rev. Jes.'-i: 'fermeti^ 
Wihaing^on; N. Branson, Fayettevdie. Pet, 
S. haldvg, Georgetown, S. Carolina; Djniet 
Latham, jxtn. Charleston. Many of these pn - 
S071S can also /crrvard ccmmnnicaticns hr 
the Rural Visiter safely and free ofexpe^nt* 



Published Weekly, by D. JLllinsoti ^ Co. 

CITY OS" nVRLlKGTOK, N.J, 

Price two Dollars »ixt} -two Cents for Volume first 
payable semi-annwally in advarce. 



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INDEX TO VOLUME I. 



\(phar,c^ u"?« of the ... 3 

AgricwUural - r, 18, 27, 59, 73, 91, 135 

Address ;o the Edi'^or on the plan ot" the Rural 

Visiter .... 9 

\htic :ic^ 14, \5, 18, 19, 23. .'55, 43. 66. SO, 81, i:0, 
1,36, 140, 142, 146. 153, 209, 218, 2J4, 242 
Anr.l'ir'r.n. en - - - - 21 

Autncntick C(vinolo*v - - - 23 

A. B. '. ". - - 34,44.66 

y^lpit.c s'rav-'^^^rry, or. \hc cuitivalion of 45 

jin :iu nmnal reflection - - 57, 103 

In '* *.il hai!!" to :he Rural Vi-itcr • 64 

Auvice to Leonora, ^Voi.i the Recorder - 65 

Addrcs'i *o Miss Dinah and the Old Maids 

cC ■ - - 65, 6ri 73 

Ann?, to - - • jCS 

Advirc to a younj? lady on her going to pass t} e 

winter in town - - 70 

A^^icola - - 93, if>7 

-imeiia, to the- Tnemory cf - - 115 

Arabian's Teacher, the - - 177 

Auruinn — an ei«?giack ode - - 144 

Advice tc) a vounij man on his entrance in'o life 149 
Alvira, history of ' 151, 160, 172, 181, 184. 199, 

2n,;.20 
Alfred 162, 191, 197, 209. 214, 215, 222, 1M9 

Athenian Letters 174, 179, 228, 244, 248 

Aogjsia ... 191 

Arion - - - . 1Q2 

^Vliegorv, an - - - ii,8 

Anagi-m, a rem.arkr\ble - - ?^6 

Anna's a^Uiress to H, W. - - 238 

An.eiicaa Cssa^iit . . . 2r7 

Biography, Novels, and Hibiory, ihoir merits 13 

Boaury - - ' - - 31 

— — compared lo the df\v-d»o[) and ihc hly 49 
Butterfly's oirth day, the - -51 

3.»ohciois, shrewd q icre for tht^ ncrti5;il of 71 
Burliigtoi., deli^hix"ul in ihw wint'^r, us well ns 

t'ne sarnnier - - - Bl 

n ^Ue of ple:isure, the - - 85 

Biilh of a child, on thc,by itt n.jihtj.' y5 

B A. T. - - - - 98 
Htes - - , .109 

B. 138 

L :, , the, and the Butieriiy - - 152 

Beauty awakening - - - ir<7 

EaMle of Hohcn>lJnden - - So* 

IV n- Mot - - - . V45 

B:jTns. KU'£^y on the death of - - y4S 

B,\.tt-r'.i>'8 Ball, thi - - 2t9 

- ^ituc^.s, nii^iiionariesamon;^ the - - 261 



^-.l..viq - - • - 33, 38 

Caledonian, a - ... 35 

Criticism, Miss CriticI':, i;urpil.-ing powerr. for '^S 
C'.iristophc* and Petion; ^ketch of thctr characters 48 
^-l - 55, 59, 84, 96, 101, 106. 117, 129 

Crito - -' . . . (jY 

67 



C-jtiosity, on 
Curious fact, a 
Cruic'sin, on 

C' nversation, on 

Caroline 

C'^quetry 



69 
69 
85 
89. 139 
96 
106, 113 



Clover, on the iojufious effects of, to orchards 108 
Charity, on - . . 109 117 

C a ^le Building, on - - . - 143,148 

Contcnfn\ent - , v . . I45 i^^ 

Coninricvmation, the evil con;^equences of bestow- 
ing, upon persons who rciily do aot merit it 147 
Chanticleer and his bride - , 162 

Charles - - . , 206 

Consolation, the - - . 310 230 

Clouds, 01 the formation of - - 212 

Crrn. fable of the two ears of , - 213 

Ci. luir) life, on the advantages and pleasures Of a 236 
Ctcero. Jkctcli of ki$ character and writiuj;* 240 



Country, nor an asylum from t}.e Intruijon of 

vicious prin.iples - - 235 

Cams, of the various kinds of ^ - 245 

D 

Domestick Manufactures - 23 

)3i5sipaiion, thoughts on - ■ 38 

Drunkenness, on - - 43 

D. . - 52 

Diuah's Invitation - - - ^4 

Dys'^a^er), cure for I'oc - - - b7 

Drink to her - - - 114 

Disrespeoi •' age; tue cause of it - 123 

Dorothy's Lanirnt - - • 149 

Debts, nlta^tne of paying - ^ - 176 

Duellist, ihc, an eU'gy - - - 7fi2 



Di'el, ftibt» tuught in :\ev\ Engiandj how punished lri5 
Dogn - - '204 

D. D. - - - ri2 

D;;ip-iir - - - 254 

E 

F ^\ ptian anecdote - 3 

t«asmu^ - - 33, 50. 73, 83, i07 

Evening's ramble, an - 52 

Epigram - 56,75,80,85,199,209 

Blnigmas - - 'ik, 69 

E!egy on the death of a promising youth - 65 
'Examiner - - 73 

Epitaph on a dunner - - 120 

Education, en »- - 129 

Essay Writing, on - - 133 

Edward - . 149, 167 

Echo, the birth and progress of - 158 

Emma " - - < 158 

Euphcivja - - 166 

Evening, address to - - 172 

Eliza - - - 181 

Eminent characters; our propensity indiscrimi- 

naiely to imitate ibcrn, a somce of injury 180 
Extract from Judge Rush s charge to the grand 

jury - - ' 190 

Ej-ekiel - - ' - Ui2 

EpitKalamium, an - - i"2 

Eugenio, history of - i93, 202, 2i4. 221 

Eagle, the, compared to the mind - 203 

Elegant tx'r.ict - - • 2u9, 223 

Enn^j, useful employment the best preventative 

from - - .243 

Eternals, coiiSiderations on the importance of 259 

! Tinerf . to 27, 85, 93, 99, i64, i92, i98. 2i5 

Forgetful man, the - - S3 

Kra^mcut, a - - - . 75 

Fr*nklit», Dr. Verses on, engraved en a stove of 

his contrivance - - - 80 

Fly, adventures of % -96 

Frlci.d." to *• a - > tOO 

Fiietidly Hint, a - - - i05 

Friend, a - - - 92, ii5 

Foiblos ID each other; to overlook them is a duty 

incumbent upon us - - ii7 

Fricndsbip, on - . i29, i58, 2i4 

Forsaken Bower, the - - i3:f 

Fanny . . ,55 

Female character, hints for the formation and im- 
provement of the - i56, i63 
Free will - . iSO 
Fame, on the love of - - - i65 
Fever and ague, a cure for the - 236 
Flyi.ig Fish, to the - - 228 
Fau.ts, prn^cncss to be blind to our own 23 1 
Fothcrgill, Dr. anecdote of - - 244 
Fashion, or a propensity to copy after others^ its 
influence upon mankind considered 25x 

G 

Crape vitics, observations on, and the wine produ- 
ced from them, - 54 
Ghost, the ' . - j^, ^09 
Grizzo • . ^ 
Grammatical Smoking - 203 
Genius in Solitude - J57 



Hoiacc, imitation of 36 

H's !n«^coduction to the Sojuuiw^r 50 

H. W . 64, 75, 85, 98, 1 14,* x4a. 1 62, 1 88 

Harp, the, by Mooit, , . , 64 

Humanity .... 89 

Habit, the power of ... !>.> 

History, on the study of . . .94 

Haq> of Sorrow, the, by Montjnmer}' . 5 'JO 

Hemp, on , . i45, i5i, i57, 164 

Highwayman, pathctick soliloquies of a ;v-4 

Harri^'t . . . 167 

Honour: An Allegoty . . ■ . io4 

Hanckcl John M. character of M". 

lirfs to the memory of i**> 

How d*y^ do, and G'^od bye . . 20# 

HjTiins let infant minds . . 22S 

Hope and Memory, reflections on . 229 

Hymn :lu eastern . . . v3S< 

Hazia. story of . 218, 253, - »\ 

Horology . . . ^07 



:'i, 40, 68, 96, 2-^4 



Imham: hi» history 

Initruciioi* to a portCi- 

I - - - 

Jeu de mots 

J. S. . - - . 60, 90. 131 

Impromptu, written on the edge of a heauriful 

itream - • - - 63 

Jenny . - - 0% 12 i;, 175 

Impromptu, ♦o a cro^s child by its mother - 110 
Joy, effects of - - - , 1^2 

Infant, address to an - - 152 

Impudence and modesty, on - .168 

Julia - - . - 17> 

Iiidclencc the r ^use- of our implicitly ad -opting the 

sentiments of others - - 17f 

Immorality - - - * J8I 

Irish lamentation, an - . 1S7 

Juliet . .21? 

Impression of leaves, plants, SiC a mcthcxi of ta- 
king off the - - - 218 
Imitation of Ossiau, by E. Smith - , :^2f< 
Indians Creek, anecdote of the - . *j.^ 5 
/, to - - - . 2S 
Instructions of Almana; an eastcni piece - 2>j' 
Imagination, coMsivieratiotxs on the merits and de- 
merits of the fiicasures of - - 047 
Indians; Icncr from rol. Benj. Hawkins - .:^<. 
Ittai*s lo)alty - - . 261 

K 

Kotzebue's standard, by which to measure unhap- 

p'ness - - - 5(> 

Knowledge, use of - - - ZZ-^ 



Hapfkittess, pursuit of 



n 



Letters from Tamoc Caspipina 6, 9, i7, 2^2 

Lime applied to the roofs of houses - - 7 

Logan Rock - - * - 14 

Longevity - - - - 19 

Letters from London - - 22, 25, 51 

Lecturer - - 23, 26, .'">8. 4I, 42. 47, 233 

Lines by it husband on the 14ih anniversary of 

his marriage - - - - 24 

Literature , , . . 07^ 2OO 

Lark, the wounded - - . 28 

Lines written after perusing the above - 28 

Lilies, the two, the Florist and the Bear • 44 
Lines addressed to M. M. and M. A. - 44 

, K. in answer - - 49 

Leonora's character of herself, and solicits advice 

of the Recorder - - - 53 

Literary breakfast, the - - - 57 

Letter addressed to the editor on the Rural Visiter 66 
Ladies, addnss to the - . (g 

Lines occasioned by a walk in a churchyard 75 

L. to V - . .76 

Lines supposed to be written by Marie Antoinette 90 
L. - - 29. 91, 102. 109. 138, 173. 265 

Leander 92, 104. 127, 133, 155. 168. 196, '?09 

Labour ----- 93 

l^nit, on . - 93, 103. 135 

LysanderandFlavius; their characters - 125 

Lines found in thr pocket-l>cok of a travefifir who 
died at a village in Pennrylvawa f3S 



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TNDFX TO VoLJ.^Iii I. 



F --. 



P.i-r 









rfi<3 



M 



- 31 
in 

v:, G2, 71. :-:. i;j 

55 
•51 



M ' n, atire*^ ro the 

*>'.. av'n: 

7wli«.'^ .-1 • -, a '"i; Til 

r.. . . t'.'^T.wSt -.-.-*!:'-:< J i" s*t 

ii w . . -. . r. jj.r .n:; ^ ": ; : s>t 
Iri. ii 

V. ^ r . * 

Ail-: :err, lUo - - i.' 

Me^'ocn:/ - - r ) 

MP . . . - \,r 

4a-t;aa . . - 1j,\ : .-: 

Miirv - - - 1_5 

M" rr^ie Sktber, rj'r • rf , - 14.5 

>!;.'ii,i.".o' ' - - J 10 

Vi i,T.--T. :.! ^uere- - - 173 

Jrljfcii5..,r, of rest, ikit - - iT'i 

M4..i..:'ru? . - - 1% 

M^n l! ruH au .:.dcpttrtient c re;;* art - 1*< J 

M-inJit^ . . - 221 

M. K . . . <;22 

Mt_r, ..lo - . 2^o 

Maivini - - - ^b-j,l^ 

M. . . - '202 

X 

V«" :':e 2nd :i*t KoS' th« - - Ij 

Nf. '. - - . 4':. S», 2*i 

■J^.j^h* «iesfnf>ri-n ct - - 7S 

No r'-loaia* - - - 91 

"J. ^V. - - •>!, 104. 109 

.tcw-j^rs*')- B^jlc Sec tty il ?, 131- IIJ, 154, It^, 

IT'i. IX, 20:, 2x6. 2:^, 241, 253 

yc»v>^.»p^^ - - - 127 

y: A ChaTigr'iTj^'i historv - - 1K6 

N-i.-.! Bndgr, .he - - Jit; 

Newton, Sir liaac - - - 217 

o 

Orthar^-st . :, 5, 11, 31. 39. 42, 47, 59, 72 

Ovid, ca the exile 7>.tA dcziU of . - 7 
— his character as at writer , aod tnisUtian of 

1 ktttr to hij w Jc during h:s cr..e - 137 

OvenvheliT. /.g argoiiicci. - - 31 

Oneniai r^'e, an • - 79, 85 

0=car . . .98, 249 
Origin of evil, argument to prc\c that femaieb 

are impropeHy accuytd of being the - 234 
P 

Man ef the Rural Visiter . - 1 

Pi»;,on - - - 1? 

Paw what thou ow«t - * 18 

Parrot, an cxfraordinary . - 19 

Poor pagnir.'d fncnd - . - - 31 
Prwtiples of hiimaTi £cikrn; their change or-en- 

cimcs eudden - 33 
l>oor Pilgrim 48. 6J, 72, 88, 121, 224, 230 
f P. . 4{/. 54, ^, /2. 74, 85. 116 

Bsnphrwc of the Lord's Prayti - 57, 104 






P 

P 

P 

P 

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^ 10, • 14, I -■■» 



149 



LtiS -A-rre ii :< < r -ob, *' .•^;d - 1*^:, 

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mcT.: in Fii r -5 : 

R^*roip«ct, ill'; 

H ..-uid 

Review . . . i'"'i, - 

K -r.£f r'c 5 . . . 

Re.t.arlc 

R'-.Ti-o - . -15. i 

Kecl^sc— to ihe rncaicry 01 Rebecca \S ngr.: 



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24- 



Sentimeriis u. 2' 

S. n»mer evening, % 

Str *\^'b-.rx7, a large 

Syn'pa-:.^ , to 

Sc-j.Vt 1-1 fiy 

^r.ow-crt J-, the 

SJavery. -^o tlit il-oi'M.-n of 

cwjoijuer 63, 72; fto, 94 



. 55. 45. 48, <>4 €5. 69. 
j?», x46, i59, ibT, iSC, : 



78. 

-0, 



i03. 



Serious thoughts on sp^ 



n6 ::2. 1 
0U3 IV, . ,rt 76, 87, 



fiprrrg*. on the oiigln of 

Soap rriakiug 

Si;j>ersiiJ T,, c-, 

Siap;»:or, 

Sf fT.un preached on a new year's day 

Senii'jibiv .to 

Srove", iniprovcPifBt in the plan of 

&EUor^' meeTinjf in port 

S '•ctaicr. a . . . 

Sioce, efftctoal core for the 

Spnng, CB . . . 

Srr.:!*" and tear, the 

StaT.:e\ Philip; his letter to the Recorder 

Snr'W-drop, ii,e 

Soap, SODS irjte for 

SocKij, 00 . . . 



251 
i5 

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52 
52 
60 

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257 

JI7, 

j?3 

93 

98 

7O1 

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\bu 

, 186 

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lib 

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2t'9 
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c 

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S. -f 1 -CO'. *^ w-. i.*jo<.-u. "1 rciii g 

T 

T^'-'it b'^'h?;-* of lf''7Zora'':£ 

Tr.'-jg>:s on r -o- . o'rgTr2.jr. ;' j -.. 

Tea 

T ':*:.- 511"- s; ;: rr. ritualized 

T.-'t R-.^it) 

1- . . . 

7^i» '^ ", b; Can ;.':>-, i 

"^^j *^~t s rri'. "it':.- v r t'rt '.'_i.\:^ 

Toi.- ! '.-fc ti'c.i p.»c o.-i a 



Tfs: fr 



A '^vtr . ^ * -A htijer a . ^ 



-^ mas 



-y , i45, i58, i8>. ;.', 



Th >i.i;^-!f:i-t:;, on 

in.*: <;n 

1 Stb'* Ut'T, 5 ii>= ••':,' »e for 

Tr ^wic lO the m^mfry rf j H 

"i JTii ^i kiriocg c:ra, tLrec io.i* for rauing 

U V 

Vjl^riar. , 4, 8, l2, :£ : 

^' anj'y of frrriiJt: d.vMy evircc I 

Vision, a 

V. 

Vt^. he 

V to L. 

V'lr^ .. anacccu .t cf 

L. . . . . 

Vj-in, a . 

I'^e'ui An-. !ce , 

Vj ci.f ; .' an ^r.ginki 

Vacc':,a ion 

'V i:jattrd t^slt is writing, on 

w 

Vf-^i 9. faich it para: OS China tr:iai Tartars, descrip 

tnn wfthe 
Wcrji.^ iiv j.euche.s ^^v^ desrr-^) td 
Wa^er, -hf" ^ :•'•'*> -^ * -tr/ iniporiaLi «.:rj,^-- 

ratior. 
War, :n . , . , 

Wi» icf evening, pk-^sorej of a 

* nii.v:ries of a . 

Wr-'ran, on . , j 

^V::!er 

U. R. 

Wr^a-h, the . . . 

V/I:,»tr, address to 

\\ !Jow, the 

We'lfv J,,hn . ' . 

Wi: 3 ce lead paini. substitute far 

Work* of humour and fancy rathip enemie? th:.n 
friendi re the promoii >n of practical bent-v"- 
Wnce .... 

Washington, anecdote of 

^ViUi rose bed, the 



Yoi.'-.g chiidren die 



z y. 

Zelia 



Y 
Z 



1O7, Ii4,i.v 



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