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pb:G!:-KV. ■ N[',W SOM.S. 'nMicn a poor little m;»ul IVcls her senses astray^ Cannot sic cp on her pillow, nor rest all the diiy, Secs u frrin still pursue her, do all tl\at she can, AnJ this form should be that of a handsome yoiin|jf nuin, Sly neifjhi-'ours will whisper then, g'ood lack- a-day ! The poor little maid’s in a very sad way. When of all her old friends she begins to grow shy, When s-lic speaks very seklom, and speaks with • a sigh, Wlien tho' ^itty or wise, she appears like a dunce, And folks wonder what’s come to the girl all at once. Sly neighbours will 'whisper then, good lack, a-ilay! The poor little maid’s in a very sad way. Where honour calls thee, wend thy way. Since we must bid adieu ; The prayer that could not win thy stay Shall still thy course pursue ; And should the storm around thee wail, Or wild thoughts rend thy breast. May that fond prayer with Heaven prevail. And hush them still to rest. tVarm hearts are few, the world is cold, In other lands than this; And heroes U arn, crc tluy grow old. That love alone is bliss. Then all in vain should glor\ shine To give thee joy or rest; Find thou a hea/tthat loves like mine, And thou wilt still be blest. Boa««! oppression hwig hath wrung ye. Bitter scorn and insult stung ye. Is there, then, a man among ye Now would shun his foe ? Courage he the child of sorrow, fitn iigth from long endurance borrow, Slaves to-day, be free to-niorl'ow; On ! and strike the blow! yorward! each his bosom cheering- "With the hope that’s most endearing; rrccdqni for his watch-word hearing; Who would quail or fly ? Read) the goal—you’re fairly started ; Strike for blessings long departed— JLion-nerved, and lion-hearted. Conquer now, or die ! Sweet as the calm which o’er the sea At twilight’s hour steals silently, Are those hned minutes men may steal From thi'. „r»d world of woe and care. To search th".r hearts, and blissful feel Someearti) recollections there; Some little hyiiin. to which the knee Oft bends in eui'li',‘a'» infancy. Some short prayer, which the memory Can call forth just as lasily As when a child—or w lien, perhaps, Materni.1 eyes woulil gaze and weep, *While, sinking in our sisters’ laps. They lull’d us with this prayer to sleep. Oh, thought divine ! e’en life’s rough sea That hour would gild most lovelily. atarfftg. Mixing together profit and delight. 7'he Count de St. (rermain’s Tale. From the Memoirs of the Court of Louis XV. By Madame du Ihmsset. “At the bcginninp; of this century, the Marquis do St. Giiles was sent Am bassador from Spain to the Hague. In his youth.he had been particularly inti- jnate with the Count de JMoneade, a grandee of Spain, and one of the richest nobles of the country. Some time af ter the Marquis’s arrival at the Hague, he received a letter from the Count, en treating him, in the najiie of their for mer friendship, to render him thep;rcat- ;st possible service. ‘ You know,’ said i^e, ‘niy dear Marquis, the mortilkation f. ielt that the name of Moncade was likely to expire with me. At length, it pleased ht-^ven to hear my prayers, and to grant me a son ; he ^^ave early promi!«; of dispositions worthy of his birth, but he, ••ome tiine since formed* nn unfortunate and disnjraccful nltach- nient to the most celebrated actress of the company of Toledo. I shut my eyes to this imprudence on the jiart of a younp man whose conduct had, till then, caused me unmingled satisfaction. Jiut liaving learnt that he was so hlinrl- cd by j)assion, as to intend to marry this gil l, and that he had even bound him'^clf by a written promise to that effect, I solicited the King to have her placefl in confinement. My son having got information of the steps I had taken, defeated my intentions, by escapii’.g with the object of his passion.—For juoie than six months, I have vainly endeavoured to discover where lie has concealed himself, but I have now some reason to think, he is at the Hague.’ 'rhc- ('ount earnestly conjiu’cd the jNfar- quis to make the most rigid si arch, in order to discover his son’s retr(>:vt, and t.o endear our to prevail upon h’m to re turn to his home. ‘It is an act ot jus-' t[ce,’ continued he. Mo provide for the girl, if she consents to give up the writ ten promise of marriage which she has received, and I leave it to your discre- ticn to do what is right for her, as well as to determine the sum necessary to bring my son to Madrid, in a manner suitable to his condition. I know not,’ continued he, ‘whether you are a fa ther ; if you are, you will be able to sympatliise in my anxieties.’ The Count Mibjoined to this letter an exact desci'iption of his son, and the yoyng woman by whom he w'as accompanied. On the receipt of this letter, the Mar quis lost not a moment in sending to all tlie inns in Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and the Hague, but in vain—he couUl find no trace of them. He began to desj)air of^ success, when the idea struck him, that a young French page of his remark able for his quickness and intelligence, might be employed with advantage. He promised to reward him handsomely if he succeeded in lindipg the young W’oman, who was the cause of so mucii anxiety, and gave him the description of her ptMsoii. The page visited all the jmblic jjlaces for many days, williont success : at length, one evening at tiie play, lie saw a young man and woman in a box, who attracteti his attention. When he saw that they jierceived he was looking at tiiem, and withdrew to the back of the box to avoid his observa tion, hefelt confident that they were the objects of his search.—He tiid not take his eyes from the box, and watch ed every movement in it. 'I'he inslant the performance ended, he was in the passage leading from the boxes to the duor, and he remarked, that tl)e \wung man, who dtuihtlcss observetl the dress he woiT, tried to conceal fiimselfas he parsed him, by putting his haiulkerchief before his face. He followed him, at a distance, to the inn called the Vicuviic de Turcfine, which he saw him and the w'oman enter ; and being now certain of success, lie ran to inform the Ambassa dor. The MarquisdeSt. Gillesimmediately repaired to the inn, wrapped in a cloak, and followed by his page and two ser vants. He desired the landlord to show him to the room of a young ^man and woman, who had lodged for some time in his house. The landlordAfor some time, refused to do so, unless the Mar quis would give their names. The page told him to take notice, that he was speaking to the Sjianish Ambassador, who had strong reasons for wishing to see the persons in question. 'I’he inn keeper said, they wished not to be known, and that they had absolutely for bidden him to admit any body-into their apartment, wdio tlid notask for them by name, but that since the Ambassadoi' desired it, he would show him tneir room.—He thrn conducted them up to a 'dirty, miserable garret. He knocked at the door, and waited for some time ; he then knocked again pretty loudly, upon which the door was half openeii. 'At the sight of the Ambassador and his suite, the person who oj)ened it imme diately closed it again, exclaiming that they hail made a mistake. The Am bassador pushed hard, against him, for ced his way in, made a sign to his peo ple to wait outside, and remaitietl in the room. He saw before him a very iiand- some young man, whose apjjearance perfectly corresponded with the descri]»- tion, and a 3'oung woman, of great beaut- ty and reniarkably fine pers .n, whose countenance, form, colour of the fiair, &.C. were also precisely those describetl by the Count de .Moncade. 'I'he yoimg man spoke'first. He complainetl of the violence used in breaking into the a- partment of a stranger living in a free country, and under tbe protection of its laws. The Ambassador stejipcd for ward to end)iace him, and said, “ it is useless to feign, my dear (’onnt; I know you, and I do not come here to give jiain to you or to this lady.” 'Fhe young man replied that he was totally mista ken ; that he was not a Count, but the son of a mercliant of Cadiz; that the lady was his wile : and that they were travelling for pleas'.ne. The Ambassa dor, cavting his eyes round the misera bly-fiiinished room, which contained hut one bed, and some packages of the shabbiest kintl, lying in disonler about tin; room, ‘Is this, my tiear child, (al low me to address you by a title v. hich is warranted by my tender regard for your fatlier) is this a lit n'sidence I’or the son of tho ('ount de aMoncade?’ 'I'he young man still protested jigaiust the use of any sueh language, as aiUires- sed to him. At Icngtli, overcome by the cntieatics of tiie Ambassador, he coiUessed, weeping, that l.e was the son of the Count de Moncade, but declared that nothing sIkjuUI induce him to re turn to his fallK'r, if he must abanchm a woman he adored. 'I’lu; young woman burst into tears, nnd thi(,‘W herself at thf feet of tli'j Ambasijuuo.’; telliujj hiijj itic would not i)e t'fic, ca'.is.:- o) L'.iC r.iin of the young Count; atid that generosi ty, or rather love, would enable her V> disregard her own happiness, and for his sake to separate herself from him. The Ambassador admired her noble disinter estedness. The young man, on the contrary, received her declaration with the most desperate grief. I le rej)roach- ed his mistress, and he declared that he w ould never abandon so eslimable a creature, nor suffer the sul)lime gener osity of her heart to be turned against herself. Tho Ambassador told him that the Count de Moncade was far from wishing to render her miserable, and that he was commissioned to provide her with a sum suflicient to enable her to return into Sjiain, or to live where she liked. Her noble sentiments, and genuine tenderness, he said, inspired him with the greatest interest for her, and wouhl induce him to go to the ut most limits of his power, in the sum he was to give her; that he, thcielore, promised her ten thou.sand florins, that is to say, about twelve hundred pounds, which would be given her tlie moment she surrendered the promise of marriage ^lie had received, and the Coute de M. took u]j his abode in the Ambassador’s house and promised to return to Spain. Tne young woman seemed perfectly in- diflerent to the sum pro[)osed, and whol ly absorbed in her love, and in thegnef of leaving him. She seemed insensible, to every thing l)ut the cruel sacrificc which her reason, and her love itseli demanded. At length, drawing from a little portfolio the jjroniise of mar riage, signed by the Count, ‘1 know hi,'> fieart too well,’ said she, ‘to need it.’ Then she kissed it again, with a sort of transj)ort, and dclivtred it to the Am bassador, who stood by, astonished at the grandeur of soul he witnessed. He jiromised her that he wouid never cease 10 take the livelie.'t inteiesl in her fate, and assuied the Count of his father's forgivi ness.—‘ He will rcceive with o- pen arms,’ said he, ‘the j)iodigal son, returning to the bosom of his distresseii family ; the heart of a father is an inex- haustless mine of ti-mierness. How great will be the felicity of my friend on the receipt of these tidings, af'ter his long anxiety and allliction ; how haj)py do 1 esteem my sell’, at being the instrn- ' nient of that felicity.’ Such was, in part, the language of the Ambassador, I which appeared to produce a strong im- ! pression on the young nian. *iiut, tear ing lest, during itie night, love should I regain all hi:, [jower, and should Irinmph I over the generous k solution of the lady, , the ^iciKpjis i^iiAsed the young Count [to accompany him to hi^ iiotch — 'I'iie tears, the ciiescd anguish, wnich niark- ' ed this cruel sepaiation, cannot be de scribed : they deeply touciied the heart ' of tiie An bassador, woo j)romised to watch over the >oung lady. Tiie Count’s little boggi^-e was not difficult to lemove, and that vc4y evening, lie was installed in the linest apartm."!nts in the Ambassador’s house. The Marquis was overjoyed in having restored to the illustrious house of aMoncade the heir of its greatness, and of its niagnificient domains. On tlic following morning, as soon as the young Count w.is up, he found tailors, dealers in cloth, lace, stuff, &c. out ol which he had only to clioose. Two valets de chambre, and three la- quais, choscn fjy the Ambassador for their intelligence and good conduct, were in waiting in his anti-chandier, and presented themselves, to receive his orders. The Ambassador showed the young Count the letter he liad just written to his father, in which he con gratulated him on possessing a son, v.ho.se noble sentiments and striking (jualities were woi lhy of his illustrious blood, and announced his spcLdy return. Tlie young lady was not forgotten ; he confessed, that to her g(;nerosity he was partly indebted lor the submission of her lover, ami i-xi)ressed his conviction that the Count wouhl not disajijtrove tl;e gift he had’mcjde her, of ten thou sand florins. 'I'lie sum was remitted, on the same day, to iliis noble and in teresting girl, w ho leit the Hague with out d-hiy. 'I'lie prejjaralions for tlie Count's journey were mafie ; a splendid waidrobe, ami an excellent carriage, were eniharked at Rotterdam, in a ship bijund for France, on board which a passage was secured for the Count, wh«j was to jiroceed from that country to Spain. A ccnsiderahle sum of money and letters (j| (-rediton l^iris, were giv en him at his departure ; and the p'^ut- ing betwern the Ainbnssador and the youp.g (’onnt v,-;is most touching. 'J'he Mar([uis (h; .St. (iilh-s awaiied with im- j)a'iience the Cuunt’s answer, and enjov- ed his friend's delight b}' anticipnlion. At the expiration of four monih.-, he received this hinp'-expected letter. 1: would be utterly ini]ios>ible to describe his surprise on reading the following words—Heaven, n.y de:.r ?.l:irquis never jj^anlt.d ni'.: i).e h^jjpiness t-f cf-nims; a I'atliei?, and, lu the niiust of a- bundant wealth and honours, the grief of having no heirs, and seeing an illus trious racc end in my person, has shctl the greatest bitterness over my whole existence. I see, with extreme regret, that you have been imposed upon by a young adventurer, \vho has taken advan tage of .the knowledge he had, by some means, obtained of our old friendship. Hut your I'.xcellency must not be the sufferer. The Count dc Moncade is, most assuredly, the person whom you wished to serve ; he is bound to repay what your generous friendship hastened to advance, in order to {nocure him a happiness which he would have felt most deeply. I hope, therefore, Mitrquis, ihat your excellency will have no hesi tation in accepting\he remittance con tained in this letter, of three thousand louis of France, of the disbursal of which you sent me an account.” The manner in which the Count dc St. Germain spoke, (says Madame du Hausset,) in the character of the young adventurer, his mistress, and the Am bassador, made his amiiuncc weep and iuugh by turns. The story is true in every particular, and the adventure sur passes Gusman d’Alfarachc in address, according to the report of some persons present. Madame de Pompadour thought of having a play written, founded on this story ; and the Count sent it to her in writing, from which 1 transcribed it. Volcanic Lake.—The 51st number of the North American Review, con tains an interesting review of a book re cently published at Boston, entitled “Journal of a tour round Hawaii, one of the largest of the Sandwich Islands,” from which w’e extract the following ex traordinary d e s c r i j >t i o n. Among the most extraordinary phe nomena on the Island of Hawaii, is the great crater of Kirauea, situated about twenty miles from the sea shore in the interior. It is thus described‘in the journal. . “ Ijnmedialely before us yawned an immense gulph, in the form of a cre scent, upwards of two miles in length, and ab(;uta mile across, and apparently eight hundred feet de»'j). The bottom was filled with lava, and the south west and northern parts of it were one vast flood of liquid fire, in a state of terrific ebullition, rolling to and fro its “fiery surge,” and flaming billows. Fifty-one craters, of varied form and size, rose, like so many conical islands, from the surface of the burning lake. Twenty- two constantly emitted columns of grey smoke, or pyramids of brilliant flame, and many of them, at the same tiir.e, vomited from their ignited mouths streams of florid lava, wdiicli rolled in blazing torrents, down tlicir black in dented sides, into the boiling mass be low. “Tlie silles of the gulph before us were perjiendicular, for afcout four hun- flred feet; when there was a wide, hori zontal ledge t)f solid black bva, of irregular breadth, but extending com pletely round. Beneath ' this black ledge, the sides sloped towards the cen tre, which was, as nearly as we could juilge, three hundred feet lower. It was evident, that the crater had been recent ly filled W’lth licjuid lava up to the black ledge, and had, by ,some subterranean canal, emptied itself into the sea or in undated the low land on the shore. The grey, and in sonic p/laces apparently cal- cincii, sides of the great crater before us; the-fissures which intersected the sur face of the j)lain, on which we were standing ; the jong banks of sulphur on the opjiosite side; the numerous columns of vajiour and smoke, that rose at the north and south end of the -plain, to gether with the ridge of rocks by which 'it was surrounded, rising jjrohably, in some |)laces, four hundred feet in per- [>eiulicular height, presented an im mense volcanic jianorama, the eifect of wliich was greatly augmented by the constant roaring of the vast furnaces below. “lietween nine and ten, the dark clouds ami heavy fog, that since the setting of the sun, had hung over the volcano, gradually cleareil away, and the fires of Kirauea, darting their fierce I'ght athwart the midnight gloom un folded a sight terrible and sublime be yond all w’e had yet seen. “The agitated mass of liquid lava, like a flood of melted metal, raged with tumnltous ^vhirl. 1 he lively flame that danced over its unduh'ting surface, tinged with snijihureous blue,' or glow ing witii mineral red, cast a broad glare of dazzling ligfit on the indei.ted sides of the insulated craters, whose bellou'- ing mouths, ajiiidjt rising lianies, and ('dying streams of lire, shot up, at fre quent intervals, with loud detonations, sphf/rical masses of fusing lava, or bright ing'fed stones. “ the liar!:, bold out!i;'.e of the pcr- ii-id rc'jk-s formed a striking contrast ^viih the \ > minous lake below, whose vivid rav^- thrown on the ruggeil promoiuories' i and reflected by the over-hangin jr doudg’ combined to complete the awful deur of the imposing scene. ” • It is a striking feature of this volcano that it does not spring out ofamoutita ’ or hill, as is the case we believe in ji! other parts of the world, but is seated in a comparatively jjlain country, or ra ther at the base otthe stuj;endousn)oun' tain, Mouna Roa. It never overflo^vs its margin, like other volcanoes, butihj lava seeks a subterraneous passa4 bursting out occasionally at a distance from tlie crater, and finding its wav the lower country, and even to sea The dimensions of this enormous gi,jp[ have b( en more accurately ascertair.ej by Mr. Goodrich ami Mr. Chamberlain who have made a recen-t visit to it. By actual measureinent they found the unj jier edge of the cratcr to be seven aiula half miles in circuniference; and at tha ileplh of five hundred feet, they satisfj, ed themselves that its circumference W’as at least five and a half miles. They judged the depth to be one thousand ■feet.” Modest 3Ieri/ elicited from a La. di].—In a court of law the other day, the truth of a matter w as drawn out as fol- lows : Mr. Scarlett the operator—“The plaintiff resisted the attempt of the de- fendant to fake the stones from him?” “ Yes, a little.” “You pushed a lit tle, did not you?” “No.” “Yes, yes, you did a little !” “ Why, I did push a little.” “In fact, you joined in the scuffle?” “Oh, dear, no.” ‘‘Come, tell me, now [coaxingly] did you notjoia in the scuflle a Ulilc“ \\ hy, yes sir, I did join in it a little bit.” “A litil» bit—the fact was, that you and your father, and your mother, with the iittl# hump-backed man, were an over-niatcli for tlie defendant ami his man ?” hv, we had none of the worst of it lluuivh. ter].” London paper. On one occasion when dining at .Mr. Johnson’s, a ^;cntleman called out Fuseli, the jjainter, from the othertiid of the room—‘Mr. Fuseli, I lately pur- chased a picture of your’s.’ Mr. F. ‘ Did you ? what is thesubjcci ?” Gent. ‘ I really don’t know.’ Mr. F. ‘'I'hai’g odd enough, you must be a strange fel- low to buy a picture without kr:ouini; the subject.’ Gent, (a little nettled ‘I don’t know what the (ievil it is.’ Mr. F,, ‘Perhaps it /.s- the devil. I have of ten painted him.” Gent. ‘Perhapsit is.’ ]Mr. F. ‘Well, you have///w now j take care he does not one day have you.’ Jests from the C/unese.—1. A man sent a note to a rich neighbour he was on friendly terms with, to borrow an ox for a few. hours. The worthy old man was no scholar, and happciied to have a gue'^t silting with him at the time that he did not ^vish to expose hi'ig norance to. Opening the note, and pit- tending to read it, after reflecting a mo ment, turning tothe servent, ‘Wry good,’ says he, ‘‘tidl your master ill come myself presently.’ 2. Alinq J^an^y one of the judge? in the shades below, sent up an Imp to this world of light to fetch him a doctor ol rc- ])ute&skill. ‘When,’sayshe, ‘you cun:9 to doctors before whose door there are no complaining ghosts, that’s the man.’ Theim])takcsthecharge, & u]> heasccnds to the l egions of light. Kvery doctor's house he j)assed had lots of angry injur ed ghosts tbrtinging about, wailing ami complaining of their wroi.gs. At la.st he ccmes to a house when' he sees only one single ghost flitting backwards ani forwards before the door. ‘Tliis isiiiv man,’says he. ‘'i’his must bo a ytic- cessful practitioner, and have a "leni name, no doubt.’ In return to liis inqui ry’, tlic answer was, ‘Sir, this gentle man set up business hul yesterday.’ .“'i, A young student cuuld not fiil sheet of Thrmr. 'I'he examiner p'it him in a low clas.*--, and onlcrcd hiin % correction. Sliow'ing hi'^ [>aper> riuCi'^ wards to a friend, ‘ 'Twas that h sheet vacant that ruined me,’ s;iys he: ‘I had commit'.ed no other fault.’ no, no,’ says his friend, after looking at the j)aj)ers, ‘’lisall very weli as iti^; ifyou had gone on as you lK'g:m, lllied the she;t, and shown it up, )'^'i would have been beaten to death.’ Cood Adt'icc.—\ late Dover CiazPt:! says that one of the reverend (v^ntl^'incu of Uial town, in tlie coni’se of a fast-cu'/ sermon, ;;ave ihe foliov/li;^exccUciU of adviee- “If,” said the prcachcr, “ the youiT ,"cntleri\cn woi e mure IVctjuently to nun* i;!e with tho \irtnous yonni;^ ladies of t iS town in'-.teaii (jf hovering round sli'tps a::d tables, it \vou)u, i'.i iiine, have a bcnciicial UMulency in ^can- in.; ti.eui many of thci:' pi afticc'', :.;ul thereby rcndcrtlieni uiOi-* cf sefiety/'
The Journal (Salisbury, N.C.)
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May 23, 1826, edition 1
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