Newspapers / The Journal (Salisbury, N.C.) / Sept. 6, 1825, edition 1 / Page 4
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POHrUY Tlic followinp: sonj^ wus w riUcn by ,T. Ti.vv, I'sq. ofl?o^ton, :iiul sung'by him ut'thc (Jlr.ncr In cclclirulioii of the battle of Lcxiiijjton: Ti'ne—“ Scufs u'ha /tac\” Cjfc. The? n’i[»ht was hush'd, llie moonlight tjlcam, I.:iy sleeping' on the gfutie stix-am, As silent as an infixnt’s dream Upon its puront’s ])rc:ist. An J Concord sluinhcr’d, safe from carc; J?ut mists were in the midnight air, As though the lleay’ns wore wecjiini; there, O'er Lriefl;,-broken rest. ■\Vheii rni,rn;iig-'s lircath rame o’er the vale, '.Var’s voice had ming-led with the gale, Aad hearts were sad, and r heeks were i)ale. To hear the distant drum. The mother clasp’d he? babe, and ilcd, Tho maiden tears of terror slied. As onwaz’d n.oved tlie martial tread. Tlic cry v.us si.ill—“they conic 1” More hmd and Innp', tlic tnunpet’s sound, Sent forth its slirill alariiis around. And foes were on the battle j,^roiiiul! M hat chains can bind tlic brave ■* As Ocean’s noiintain-billows meet Ag^ainst t!ie rock in maihiess beat, Then rush in foaming' litrce retreat, IJacIi roll’d tlic warrior wave ! Tlic foe of I'rccdcm sternly stood, In pride, vipon the brld;,^e of blood— IJut dciilh was floating- in the flood ; Tlie tomb of Tyranny. ’>ur voUies echo through the sky— Hark, hark ! what g'lory’s in the cry. For Freemen shout, “they fly! they fly?” “ The laud ue love in free /” VARiirrY. AH ])lcaeure consists in Vurirty. Our readers will rccogriise in the fol- iowing extracts, the strange pen of that v/ild writer in Blackwood's Magazine, who seems to deli|;i)t in portraying those ]iorrible occurrenccs which madden the imagination, and make Each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon tlva fretlul porcupine. I was on my voyage hack to my na tive country, after an absence of five years, spent in unremitting toil in a for eign land, to which 1 lind been driven ])y a strange fatality. Our voyage had bc*€*n singular and prospc-rous, and on Christmas day wo were wilhin fifty iccigues of )»ort. Pas.soiigcrs and crew were all in the highest spirit?, and the ship was alive with mirth and jollity. For my own part, .! was the very hap piest man in existence. I hatl been un expectedly raised from poverty to afflu-^ once—my parents were once more long ing to behold their erring and beloved .son, and I knew that there was one dearer even than any paient, who had remained true to me through all my mis- lortunes, and would soon be mine for life. About S o’clock in tho evening, I went on deck. The ship was sailing upon a wind at the rate of seven knots an hour, and there was a wild griindour in the night. A strong snow storm blew, but steadily, and without danger, and now and then, when the struggling moojilight overcame the sleety ami misty darkness, wc saw for some dis tance around us, the agitated sea ail tiunbling with foan;. There were no .slioals to fear, and the ehij> kept boldly on her course, closo-recfwl, and mistress of the storm, i leant over the gun wale, admiring the water i-uslung p;ist like a foaming cataract, when by some iniaccoutilablc'* accident. I lost xiiy bal ance, and in, an instant feel overboard in- tu the sen. I reineniber a convuUivo shuddering rdl over niy body, and a hurried leap ing of my breast, as 1 felt myself about to lose IkjuI of tlio vessel, and afterwards a sensation of tlie mo>t icy chilliness iVom immersion into tlic waves—but iiotliing resenii-'ling a fall or jirccipita- tion. When b‘lo\v llie u’ater, I think that the tnomentary btdicf n,;slK-.l across my mind, that the s’.ij) had sunk, and t.hat 1 was lint one of a peri,' hinx cvcw. I imagined that I fell a liaiid v.iLh lo;^g fingers clutching at my legs, and made a violent ellort to esc ipe, di':;gi^mg af ter me, as 1 tlioughl, liic !iodv of some r’rowning wictc^.—Ou libing to the surface, 1 recollecL-jd in a moment \vh:il Jiad befallm uie, and uttered a ery of horror which is in my ears to this d:iy, and often makes me shudder, a>; if it wc:'r3 t!ip n.'id shriek of onotlier jierson in the rxh-emity of perilous agony. Often Lave 1 drPiuncd over aij;jin tiiat dire noi'i^'n', nnd tlie cry I tiller in iiiy sle(?p i . .soiii. thing moi’e hori'ible thaualu.- i.i.iii voice. Xo shi]) w:is to he- sce:i. S!if^ \v;*s fjone I'tu’ever, 'J'he little [iai>- ]iy w 'flrl to which a monu;nt before, 1 ]• id bi'iOn'^i.’i!, h.id s'Aept by, tlu; \va\'e.s t] isne'l o:i pi . and struck me on the led, and snow beai like drii-tingsand in to my eyes—and there was I left to struggle, and buflet, and gasp and sink, atid perish, alone, unseen and unpitied by man, j;nil as I thought too, by the everlasting God. I tried to pentftrate khe surrounding darkness with my glar ing eyes, that felt leaping from their sockets, and saw, as if by miraculous power, to a great distance throtigh the night—but no ship—notiiing but white crested waves, and the di>mal noise of thunder. I shouted, shrieked and yel led, that I might he heard by the cn w, till my voice was gone—and th:it too, wlien 1 knew that tiiere was none to hear me. At last I biicame uUerly speech less, and when 1 tried to call aloud, there was nothing but a silent gasp and con vulsion—while the waves caine upon me liko stui’jiing blows, reiterated and reiterating, and i!io\ e me along like a log of wood ora dead animal. Once I uttered to myself, this is a dream, I shall awake. 1 had ofteti be- tore dreamt of being dro wned, and this idea of its iiein”' a dreiini so i-.ressed up- ?"r. :c :ir ! ho V. led on me, lhat I vainlv strove to shriek out, that the noise mi:^ht awaken me. But oh ! the transition from this niu- mentary ami wild hope of its being all a dreadtul dream., inro the-conviction of its reality! Thatintleed \vas some! lung more hideous than a hinntic’s tlKuight ol hell. All at once 1 felt my inmost soul throttled, strangled and stifitd, by an insupportable fear of dealli. I’hat death which to my imagination hail ev er appeared the most hideous, and of which I had often dreamt till the drojjs fell down my forehead like rain, had now in good truth beiallen me ; but dreadfid as my dreams had hcen, what were they all to tliis.^ I ielt as if all liuman misery were concentrated in the speech less anguijli of my own one single heart. All this time 1 was not conscious of any act of swimming ; but I soon found that I iiad instinctively been exerting all my power and skill, and both were requisite to keep me alive in the tumul tuous wake of the ship. Something struck me harder than a wave. What it w'as I knew not, but I grasped it with a passionate violence, for the hope of salvation came suddenly over me, and with a sudden transition from despair, I felt that I was rescued. I had the same thought as if I had been suddenly heaved on shore by a wave. 7'he crew had thrown overboard every thing they thought could allbrd me the slightest chance of escape from death, and a hen coop had drifted tow’ards me. At once all the stories I ever read of mariners miracuIo^I^ly savetl at sea, rushed across my recollection. 1 had an object to cling to, which 1 knew’ would enable me to prolong my existence. I was no longer heljiless on tiie cold weltering world ol waters ; and the thought that my friends were thinking of me, and doing all they couid for me, gave me a wonderful courage. 1 may yet pass the night in theship^ 1 thought, and looked around eagerly to hear the rush of her prow, or to sec through the snow drift the gleaming of her sail's. J his was but a momentary gladness. 7'he.ship I knew could not be far otf, but lor any good she could do me,-she might have been in the heart of the At lantic ocean. JSre she cotd(i have al tered her course, I must have drifted a long way to the leeward, and in that dim snowy night Ju)w was such a speck to be seen ? I saw a tlash of lightning and then there was thunder. It'was the ship liring a gun, to let me know, if still alive, tliat she was somewhere ly ing to. ]^>t!t wherefore ? 1 was separ- ateil Iroin her by a dire necessity, by many tlyju.sand and licrce waves, that would lu.t let my voiv he heard. Kach Miccecdiug gun was her.r»4 fainter and lain^er, till at last 1 c.irsed the sound tliat, scarce hcanl aijove t!ie hollow rum bling ol the tenij'estuous sea, told me t.hat the sliip was fat 'ditr anil farther oil till she and her hrartlc.ss crew h.id left i.ie to my late. Why did they not send their bouts round ami round all the night through, for the sake of one whom they i;:.d j;n;t..-nJed ta lo^■e so uell ? 1 blam ed, Ijlesse;], and en.-sed thetii bv lits, eveiy emolion of my soul was exliaust- ed, and I chmg in sullen despair to the wretched piece of wood, tliat still kept me from ctei-nitv. Was it not stratige (lint all tliis time the imag.'3 of my iViends at home never entered my mind My tlioughts had never es’capcd beyond the narrow and dim horizon of the sea, at least never beyond that fatal shii.i. Hut now, I thought of home, and t.'ie bh'ssed things theie, ami so intenst ly bright was that ^ llash of heavenly ima^'’>', that for a mo- j nientmy heart was filled with hap]jiiicss. It was tcri'ihle when the celd and dash ing w;-,ves hicdve over me in that insane and dieaiuiiig jit, and ;i\\oke me to the i'-'iivlftion, that thej-e ^vas nothing in ^U)! e for me ■ hut ; ;i icy and lingering diath_, au(-l lhat I, iuid i-o m’.i:'Ij to live for, was seemingly on that account most miserably to jierish. What a war of jjassions perturbed my soul ? Jlad 1 for this kept my heart iidl of tenderness, pure, lolty and heroic, ior my best be'loved and long betrothed lias Cod kept me alive through fevers and jilafjues, and war and eartlnpiake, thus to murder meat last? What mock ery was all this? What horror would be in my grav haii'cd parents’ houst; when they came to hear of my doom O'riieresii: Theresa! And thus I wejit and tm-moiled through the night.— Sometimes I had little or no feeling at all—sedlen and idealess. I wished my self drowned at once—yet life w'as still sweet; and in my weakened state I must have fallen from my frail vessel and been swallowed uj), had I not, tho’ even now I cannot remember when or how 1 bound myself to it. I had done so with great cai’e—but a fit ol despair succeeding, I forgot the circumstance, and in that situation looked at mysell wilh surprise and wonder. • 'I'uat I had alw.-ys thoughts of the eternity into v.diicli I fell gi'adually sinking, is certain ; but it is wonderfid how faintly I tl'.oughtcf the iuture woi ld; all such thoughts were ovorthrown by idfernate liojie and despair connectc.l with this life. I heard the slirill cry of sea-birds living over my head, anu instantly returned again to the hope ol life. 0 for such wings! but mnie 1 thought were broken, and lii;(3 u woun ded bird lay lloating j)owerlessly on the waves. The night before I had had a severe rheumatism in my head, and now re membered that there was ajiiiial of lau danum about me. I swallowed the whole of it—and ere long a strange ef fect was produced. I fell into a 'deliri- um, and felt a wild pleasure in dancing over the waves. I imagined myself in a viissel and on a voyage, and had a dreamy impression that tiiere was con- uected with it something of glory, 'riien suddenly a cold Iremulotis sickness wouKl fall on me—a weight of sadness and despair. Every now and then tiiere came these momentary llashijigs of reality ; but the conviction of my personal identity soon gave way to those wilder fits, and I was drifted along through the moonless darkness of the roaring night, with all the fierce exulta tion of a I'aving madman. No wonder. The laudanum, the cold, the wet, t!‘C dashing, the buifeting, the agony, were enough to account for all this, and more than my soul dare even now to sh:iJow out to her shuddering recollection : But as God pitied tlie miserable, so also has he forgiven the wicked thoughis of that unimaginable night. During one of these delirious fits, whether it was a .dream or a retdity I know not, methought I heard the most angelic music that ever breathed from heaven. It seemed to come on the winds—to rise up from sea—to melt down from the stormy clouds. It was at last liko a full band of instrumental music, soft, deep, wild, such as I have heard playing on board a ship of war. I heard a rushing noise with the music —and the glorious ghost of a ship went roaring past me, all illuminated with lamps—her colours flying—every sail set, and her decks crowded with ir.en. Perhaps a real ship sailed by with fes tivity on board. Or was it a vision? Whatever it was, I felt no repining when it passed me by: it seemed some thing wholly alienable to me: the deli rium swallowed up all fear, all sellish- ness ; the past and ffituro were alike f'orc^ottcn, and I kept floating along, selt-fiuestioned no longer, assured that I Wi.s some how or other a pai t of the waves and the ten;pi*st,' and lhat the wonderful and beautit’ul vi.sion that had sailed by me, was an aboriginal creature of the ooe;ui. • 'J’here was an tmspeaka- ble pride and grandeur in this delirium. I was more intensely conscious of a brighter existence than I ever was in the most glorious dream, and instead ol' fearing death, 1 felt as if 1 were imnior- t:d. 'I’his delirium, I think, must have gradually subsided ihu'ing a kind of sleei), dimly recollect mixed ima ges of jK'iri and pleasure, land and sea, storm and calm, teai's and laughter. 1 thought I had a companion at my side, even her I host loved ; now like an an gel eomforliiig me and lunv like my.self needing to be comforted, lying on mv bosom, cold, dremmed, dispairing and insane, and uttering with pale rpiiver- ing lips the most horrid and dreadful imprecations. Once I heard metbou-rht, a voice crying from below the waves, “Hast thou forgot Theresa?” And looking down I saw’something like the glimmering of a siiroinl come slowly up wards, Irotn a vast dcjiih to the surface of the water. 1 stooped down to em brace it, and in a moiii-mta ghastly blue- swollen faee defeatured horribly, as if liy giuiu i;;g teciji of ‘■ea-mon^’ci s, da"!'.- ed against mine ; and as it sank again, I kifew well to whom belonged the black streaming hair. But 1 atvoke. The delirium was gone, and I was at once a totally diliercnt creature. I a- woke into a low, heartless, tpiaking, quivering, fear-haunted, cowardly and weeping ilispondency, in wliich all for titude was utterly jirostrated. The ex citement had worn out my very soul. A corse rising out of a cold clammy grave could not have lx:en more wo-begone, spiritless, bloodless. Every thing was seen in its absolutely dreadful reality. I was a castaway—no hope of rescue. It was broad daylight, and the storm had ceased ; but clouds lay round the hori zon, and no land was to be seen. What dreadful clouds ! Some black as pitch, and charged with thunder ;—others like cliffs of lire ; and here and there all fit reamed over with blood. It was in deed a sullen, vvrathftd, despairing sky. The sun itself was a dull brazen orh, eolil, dead, and beamless. 1 beheld three ships afar olf, but all their heads were tured awav from me. For whole hours they would adhere motionless to the sea, while 1 drifted away from them : and thc'n a rushing wind would cai’ry them one by one into the darkness of ih^stfirmy distance. iManyJm:ds came chjse to me as if to flap me with their large s|ireading wings, screamed i'ound and round me, and then ilow a- way in their str.uigth, and beaut}', and happiness. I now felt myself indeed dying. A calm came over me. I prayel devout ly forgivness of my sins, for all my friends on earth. A ringing was in my ears, and I rernember only tiie hollow lluotuations of tin* sea udth whicii 1 seemed blendid, and a sinking down and down an unfathomable depth which I thought was Death, and into the king dom of the eternal future. I aw'oke from insensibility and obliv ion with a hideous racking pain in my head and loins, and in a place of utter darkness. 1 heard a voice say ‘‘Praise the Lord,” My agony was dreadful and I cried aloud. Wan, glimmering, melancholy lights kept moving to ami fro. A hideous din was overhead, and around me the fierce dashing of the waves. I was lying in the cabin of a ship, and kindly tended by a humane and skilful man.—I had been picked up apparently dead and cold. Tiie hand ol God was there. WoMw.—A work just published in England, entitled “ Tales 6// l/ie O'Hara I'amUyy' furnisiics the followinij touch ing tribute to Avoman—to the truth and justness of which the feelings of every man, on w'hom the hand of severe slck- ncss has been laid, will involuntarily res- ]K)nd. Never was a more faithful portrait drawn by the painter’s happy hand. It has been often remarked, that in sickness there is no hand like woman’s hand, no heart like woman’s heart : and there is not. A man’s breast may sw(dl with unutterable.sorrow', and ap prehension may rend his mind ; yet place him by the sick couch, and in the shadow’ rather than the light of tho sad lamp that watches it ; let liim have to count over the longdull hours of night, and wait alone and sleepless, the strug gle of the grey dawn into the chamber of sulP'ring; let him be aj)])ointeil to this ministry even for the sake of the brother of his heart or the father of his being, his grosser nature, even where it-is and most perfect,,will tire; his eye 'will close, and his spirit grow impatient to the dreary task ; and tl'.ongh love and anxiety remain undiminisluMl, his mind will own to itself a creeping in of irre sistible selfishness, which indeed he may be ashamed of and striiggle to reject, but which, despite of all his elforts, re mains to characleri/,e his naltuc, and jtrove in one instance; at least, his man ly wcakiH!ss. l)ut see a motlier. a sis ter, or a wife, in his jilace. 'riie woirian feels no weaknr>ss, ow ns no recollection of sell. In silonp*; jmil in the depth of night sh(; dwtdls, not only passively, but so fir as tiie (jualifi- ed term may exjircss onr n ennin;:;. joy ously. llcri'ar acquires a blind man'’,'- instinct, as li-om time to t.imti it catclieN the slightest stir, in- w'lisper, or hrealh of tho now more than ever loved one, who lies under the iiatul of himiiui aiHic- tion. Her stc[), as in obedience fu an impulse or a signal, wouhl not waken a mouse ; if ,' he sperds, heraccd.ts are a snft echo of natural harmony, most de licious to th(; sick man's ear, conveying all that sound can convey of pity, ('op,,] fort and devotion ; and’tlius,* niiidit af ter night, she tend.s him like t? crea ture sent him from a higher world, when all earthly watchfulness ■ ha> f;iihd her eye never winking, her mifid never palle(>, her nature, that all other times is wcaknt.-ss, mr.v u-ainiu"- a supei’humau strei'.gtli and magn'uiiniity, herself lnr:::(;!,iMl_. ae-! liTl- dun'iiuai'.t. ' A wag attended an auction sok... since, and seeing a lot of door btri: going oft rhe.ap, made a bid, am' v Auctioneer knocked them down| on examination he found there wcr catches among them, and feehmr mortified that he should get taken thought it was best to make the laos/'*’ his purchase—he therefore resoh-e i get rid of them among his friends accordingly fixed uj>on one, on \l-\ he often played his jokes. The T’' showing Peter one of his latches, oil ed them at “small advance from the a'^ tion price, at the same time told ’ “they were very cheap Peterbe''^ veil him. “ 1 will give your pi, satd he, “ if you will promise nio thctv. is no catch about it.” “1 Jq proin\,! there is no catch about the bargain.^"^ 'I’he wag received a jiroflt on his I’ucT es, and Peter went off pleased with hi' bargain. The next lime they “ W ell, sir,” ^aid Peter, “ I thoiilhtl might have depended upon your word once—you tohl me there was no catch about the bargain of latches.” so 1 did.” exclaimed tne wag, laughisJ “and if you have found any you welcome to them. ” ^ A gentleman whose attendance at library, where he was not a subsonb.- liad gruwu more frequcr,t than hiscuni! fiany was acce{)table, the regular vi>it. ors had many debates whetlK-r to -lve him a polite notice to quit, or sufi'crhini to remain ; an old crusty gentleman^cl ing in one day soon settled the busii^sj —perceiving not only jhe disagree,!bio visitor, but a large mastilV bclonj^ina; lo him,takinguji the whole fireplace, hevc- vy coollyopened the door, and giviu;rihf; nia-tilT a tremendous kick, which iniidfj him raise aj.iidcous yell, he cxclaiineu iil a broad accent, “Come, dom it, yoimre no subscriber at my rate. ” The'^ciilie- man followed his dog, and never more annoyed them by his presence. Sir Nicholas Bacon, while jiidjje of the Northern Circuit, and being abci;t to sentence a malefactor, was miLditily importuned to save his life. But wh-jn nothing that was said availed, the pris oner at length desired his mercy on ac count of kindreil. ‘ Prithee,’ said my lord judge, ‘ hou' came that ?’ ‘ Wj.v^ if it please you my lord,’ rejdied tic poor culprit, ‘your name is Ihicon, ir.ire is Hog, and in all ages hog and Iwcoii have been so near kindred as not to iic separated.^ ‘Aye, but,’ replied jiid^e B. ‘you and 1 cannot be kindicd cxrept you be hung—for ho^ is not bacon until it be well handed.’ MOHAL. Extract from ;halmer’s Sermon on t!ie “Ob servation of the Ial)!>iith.” “ W'c never, in the whole course of our recollections, met wilh a Christian friend, who bure upon his character every cdier evidence of the -Spirit’s operation, who did not remember the Sabbath-duy, and keep it holy. W’e appeal to the meaiory of all the worthies who arc now lying ia their graves, that, eminent as they were in every other i;race and accomplishnieiit of the new creature, the religiousness of their Sabbath-day shone wilh an eii'aal lustre amid the fine assemblage ol vir'iics which adorned them. In every Christian household, it will be found, that the dis cipline of a v. cll-ordered Sabbath is never forgotten amongst the other lessons rf ^ Cdiristian exliicalion; and we to every individuaf who now hears us, am! who,carries the remembrance in his bos om of a father’s worth, I'.nd a lallierspi^' ly, if, on the coming I'oiuid ot tne "i.' enili day, rm uir of j)ccaliir sacre'.n..5> did not .s])read itself over that nu!!-' where-.he d.rew iiis first bri’atbi taught to r('])(*at his infaiil hyuui. am! 1. , Iiis irifanl prayer. Rest assured, Christian, luningthe love ol ten in bis heart, and denying the huJ--*'' a placc in its aricrlioJis, is ati anom • lhat i.s no v.licrc to Ijc ioii’ul- Sabbalii image, and every ^^ ciimstance, is dear to him. ^ quietness of that hallowetl morn- loves the church-lndl sound which s'-’’'' mons him to the house ol prayei- ^ loves to joiti the chorus ol d.c.votioi''“ ^ to sit and listen to that voi- e ol sion Avhir.h is lifted in tin* bi’aruiii; ^ asseml)ied multitude. He ’ tii-ementof this (hiy from the diiy' | ly business, and the inroads n. ''‘'V V men. lie loves the Icisui'c it with it; ami sweet to his soil! ■nl l.oii.-, « ''.V I. cise of lliat iiallov.-e tio eye to w itness him but tlio ey enj and when in solemn lUidieH'C"' I''atbcr, wlio seelli liim in seen ^ on the wini;-s of celestial ie^ve all the cares, atid al! th‘- V • and all the seciihu i'i-'i' I I,,.' 1 I'
The Journal (Salisbury, N.C.)
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Sept. 6, 1825, edition 1
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