Newspapers / The Journal (Salisbury, N.C.) / Feb. 6, 1827, edition 1 / Page 4
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YK CO.MK TO .NJr.. n.ttracU'il from “ The Memorial, a Chriflmas I^'tw Year's Offering,” published at Boston. Ye come to me with eyes of li{;ht— Fair crcaturcs of my dreams! Ye move around me calm and bright, J/ike sunset over streams, M’Ijf'rc the last flush of dying- day In liquid lustre glows. Then passes into night away, Like rain drops from a rose. Fair creatures! soft your voices are— I hear their tender tone; And all the twilight echoes bear Their inelody alone: It fills the woods, the rocks, the plain, W ith an all-pervading thrill; • And listcn'ng to the invisible strain, Thi' breathless air is still. All innocent your beauty blow's—> ’Tis bvig'’it and purely fair; The* rose- t’.ie young Tnd virgin rose, Biiiis forth ill svveetiH"-s thore; And thcrQ are light and laiigliing eyes. That 'lave never wept inpyin; lion . beck' us you on, as away she flics, Ana love, that must all be vain. Yet stay, fair creatures! I bid you stay, For with you iny dreams are heaven— 7’oo soon the vision must fadeaway— Not forever these joys wire given; liend O' cr me now that winning smile. That lingering look of light— Te fade-O pause,-and charm awhile, Er* ye vanish away in night. P. atarlftt*. Mixing together profit and delight. AFFEARANCKS DECEITFUL. “ Drive to the church, saifl ihc Coun tess Z*"* to her coachman as she step- ppi! ] to the carriage. It was the eve of A.I Saints, anil the pious Amelia wish ed to unburden her mind by confession. ‘ A young; and amiable woman united to a husband who was the choice of her own heart—adored by him—already the ha|>py mother of a charming: boy—soon 10 jii oduce the second pledge of nuptial love ; gratefully plucking every flower ■which joy scattered on her path ; wil- lin^ly fulfilling every duty of a faithful mother ; what can such a woman have to confess? With a heart devoid of and a conscience without a blem ish, why does she visit the chair of ab- scliiMon ? What will she reply to the prirsv, if he require more than the uni- yer,'.^»i declaration, I am a miserable sin- jiei Thus spaku Gustavus count Z** to himself, as he was standing at a vvin- d(.w, ai.d heard his Amelia’sdirection. DiiVt-to the church.’--‘Shalllprivately foil'iw her ?’ coi.tiiuicd he in his solilo quy ; ‘ shall I conceal myself in a cor ner of the church, and hear the avowal of liiy beloved sinner? Is this curiosi ty r—No !—Is it jealously ? Pshaw. —W'ell, what is it then ? A ioke and noii*!-:2; more. I am her husband, and sur« i \ liave a‘ good a right to know her litfie secrets as father Ansclmo. I shall rail'.’ her, she will be surprised—I shall lau • -and there the matter jvill end.’ If- cot. It was not far to the church. —li • crept into it under the twilight, an- t|)(iroached as near to the coiifes- so) ’ ' hair as was possible without be- insr uei.ected. He listened attentively. An • lia spoke rather luud. Here is the fra^: vent of her confession, of which lier unfortunate husband lost not a word— “ Yes, reverend father, the youfn’s person was handsome. For more than i-ix months lie has remained several hours in my bed chamber ; while I was at supper with my husband, he escapeil my nubband ijnperceived, through a private dooi'. I wish you to keep this foiiceaied, as it might be the means of disri'issing this yoiiiig gentleman. ” Oil, all ye husbands ! whoever of you is in possession of a beauteous wife, whom he loves with the whole fulness of heart, in whose arms he careless ly KMjoses, 1ft him fancy himself in the sit>>jt!on of tfce lisleninc; count. His first motion was with his hand uj)on Jiis ?word, but the idea of j)rofaning the AimiL^hty’s temple and (hfding his fli.'M-s willi blood, deterred him. H(‘ Icli till, church, to him the grave of his . arrlve(l wilbont knowing how, at - wn house, and demamlcd horse-*. A chaise was prepared. 7 he co> t left a nole for his wife, in which hv V liifonicaily iriformed I'^j-, that bu . I ss of inijjortanee oliJiged him to v; oi.e of hi?^ estates, thiew himself into tite carriage, and fled from the ^1 'ce. Amelia retniiied from the temple with that rheerfulncss so j)cculiar to pi ous simplicity, wIifMi it believes to have liqii a'.ed al! a‘Connts with heaven.— He, .hand\s lioti surprised her much; he i. 1 «^’*‘r beior». (juittid her in so usuccountablo a way—withgut a par ting kiss—witliout having thought of the journey two hours before. These reflections made the gentle A- melia uneasy. She summond the stew ard, and asked whether he had sjioken to the coiwit before his departure. The Steward replied he had seen him but not spoken to him. ‘Not spoken to him !’ exclaimed A- meliai. ‘No orders! no direction ! I mean wiih regard to the household ?’ ‘ None whatever,’ answered he. ‘I'hat is strange,’ said Amelia, Aye, strange indeed my lady,’ returned the Steward. I have known his lordship ever since he was born, I have often carrietl him in my arms, but I never saw him as he was to-day—Twenty times I had the honor of waiting on him ; but there I stood and he never looked at me.— Once or twice I’ took the liberty of coughing, but all in vain. His lordship did nothing but bite his nails, and all the while looked as red as my good old master, his father of blessed memory, when he had swallowed five bottles of wine after dinner. At last his lordship threw himself into the chaise, \vithout so much as just caying good bye Tho mas, as he was before alw ays pleased to do, when he left home.’—‘Inexplica ble !’ murmured Amelia. Undoubted ly some very unpleasant accident has torn him from my arms !’ F.ir, very far, was she from su.specting the real cause. Meanwhile the count pursued his journey day and night. ‘Twas night with his soul, not a gleam of hope there cast its transient twilight. On the eve ning of the third day he reached the bounds of his e>tate. An ancienb castle of the ninth century, furnished with tur rets, moats, drawbridges, and palisades, just caught the last beam of the sun, and cast a long shadow on the flowery meadow. It was the first time that the young count had visited this the remotest of his estates, since he inherited them from his father. A steward, an old gardener and his wife were the only inhabitants of the castle. All three harbored not the most distant exi)ectation of a visit from their young master. They sur rounded him with every demonstration of joy, and welcomed him with a hearty good will, but li(! scaice even saw them; his eye.s w'ere dark and gloomy ; he threw liimsf'lf upon the sofa, and desir- to bo left alone. The whole village was in motion. The oldest boors dressed themselves in their Sunday clothes, and plodded to wards the castle, while the bailiflf on the road studied a complimentary har angue, which he proposed to address to his lordship. At the gates of the castle, however, they were informed that the count was fatigued after the journey, and could not be seen by any body. The good people returned sorrowfully home. The late lord was never so high with us, said one to the other. ‘ VVhen- ever he came here to hunt and shoot, he always received us, and said — ‘Good day my lads! How goes your corn on ? How are your cattle ? God bless your old soul!' Eirly on the following morning count 7.** examined the castle, searched into the lowest cellar. At the end of a lonely galh'ry, through which he beam the echo of his every step, he stumbled a- gainst an iron door which guarded the entrance to one of the four turrets at the corners of the castle roof.' The door was o])ened, a loathsome stench of long confined air burst through the chasm. He enterec], found the naked walls, and some mouldered straw. For the first time the count’s mouth was distended to a smile, but it was a grim diabolical smile. He silently quitted the turret, a!id despatched the servant who accom panied him with a note to the countess. In the mean time, by his command, a table, a wooden chair, and a bundle of fresh straw, were carried into the tur ret. AuK'lia rcceiK’ed with rapture the ti dings of Ikt beloved lord, whose em brace her l)i atiug heart too long missed. With beauteous bioom of fervent de sire upon her cheek, she opened the note and read— ‘•’rite bearer thereof has orders to bring you to me.” Z. Great was Amelia’s astonishment at the dry laconic style of her husband, yet made she not a moment’s hesitation to accompany the messenger.—The journey was extremely diiricult to a lady in Amelia’s condition; but she, with the impatience of aflection, forgot her deli cate situation, scarce allowed herself a few hours sleep at niglit, and on tlve fourth evening arrived safe at the cas tle. Her husband awaited her w'ithin the 'walls of the dreadful turret, seated on the wooden chair, and ruminating nn hi'' misery. Amelia flew to embrace him—with his clenchcil fists he felled her to the earth.—‘Heavens! what means this cried the unfortunate coun- io: s, and crept npo:' the straw. The count spurned her from him: ‘ ]Nlon- ster,’ roared he in a tone ot the most dreadful fury, ‘ thou ^art unmasked. Here, here shaltthou en'd a life of which I have not courage to deprive thee.’ With these words he forsook the wretched countess, and locked the door. Left to rcflect in solitude upon her mis ery and innocence ; doomed, with the purest conscience, to the eruelestof pun ishments, Amelia sunkuj)on her knees, an*l prayed to that Being, who reads in our hearts, as in an open book, to tear from the eyes of her husband, her still much loved husband, the bandage wo ven by malignant calumny. The night crow shrieked during her prayer, and the ear of inexorable fate seemed deaf to the sighs of suflering innocence. On the noon of the succeeding day, bread and water were ajlmmistered to her through a hole. She salted the bread with her tears and her heart al most broke with melancholy. She had begged that she might be allowed wri ting materials, but they had been de nied. By chance she found in her pocket a little blue silk and a needle. She washed her handkerchief, and sew ed upon it these words: ‘ t am inno cent ! SAVE MK AND OI K CHILD.’ She sent the handkerchief to her hus band. The deluded wretch tore and returned it. A burning tear fell from Amelia’s eye upon it. When the period approached, at which she was to be delivered, the old gardener’s wife was admitted to her and Amelia, writhing upon the straw, gave birth to a daughter. The first cry of this child, the first sound which she heard within these dreadful walls, for two long months, alleviated her sorrow. She pressed the liltle cherub to her fond maternal heart, and commended it to the Almighty. She gazed at it, thought she saw it smile,, and forgot her misfortunes. But alas ! scarce had she gained in some degree her strength, when the gardener’s wife tore the in fant from her arms, and locked the prison. ‘ 0 God !’ exclaimed poor A- melia, ‘leave at least my child.’ She fell to the earth in a swoon, and when she awoke prayed to Heaven for death. Her inexorable husband would not even see the child. He sent it to the wife of a boor, and quitted Amelia two weeks after her delivery; the count re turned to the city, and the wretched victim remained a prey to consuming misery for more than three years. It was at this time that Baron T. her brother, a major in the Brunswick service, returned from America. He loved his sister sincerely and Z** had been the friend of his early years. He therefore, as soon as possible after his return, obtained leave of absence for a few months and hasted to embrace' his relations. Accustomed to see his bro ther’s house the seat of pleasure; accus- tpmed there to find an entertaining cir cle of both sexes drawn together by the count’s afl^ibility and hospitality ; he was .lot a little surprised to perceive the door shut, which formerly was ever open.—He imagined, however, it might he caused by some little excursion of pleasure. He knocked at the door ; a miserable Swiss opened it. ‘Is your master at home?’ ‘Yes,’ replied the porter. ‘At home is he!’ said the Bar on. ‘Well, so much the better.’ He entered : no footman opened the door ; no lady’s maid tnij)ped- forth to meet him : no lap dog barked : no par rot chattered; all was dead as the habita tion of a miser. He walked into tlie count’s room, and found him sitting on a sofa, with his eyes rivetted on Ame lia’s picture which hung 0pj)0sile him. Starting, as from an oppressive dream, he staggered towards the baron, burst into his arms in speeehless agony, and pressed him with ft-rvour to liis heart.— At the same moment a flood of tears gushed from his eyes, for time had con verted his rnge into melancholy. ‘ lirotht r,’ exclaimed Baron T. ‘what means all this? Your house is no more the same, and you—scarce can I recog- tiize you. Where is that manly bloom w’hich once adorned your checks? Those frightful looks forebod some ter rible calamity. Where is my sister ?’ ‘Ah!’ sighed the count. The Baron started and hastily demanded, ‘ Is she dead?’ *To me she is dead,’ returneil (iustavus. ‘ Kxijlain yourself,’ said the brother. ‘Alas!’cried he, ‘the grave of her honor was the grave of my peace.’ Displeasure lowered upon the Baron’s forehead. ‘ Her honor ?—Is it possible! —No, it cannot be.’—‘ Yet thus it is,’ criril the unfortunate dt;I*!d?d coimt. Sobbing, and scarce able to articulate his words he related to tlie friend of his youth, the brother of his still belov ed Amelia, the adventure of that hate ful eve of all Saints, his anguish, his fury, and his revenge. Baron T it-luod fixed in gloomy, •spccchlcss meditation, sliuddering at the fnnviction if his sister’s intldelity, ano 111 Vain seeking any means ofvindication. Forever cursed then,’ cried he at last, ‘ be the whole hypocritical sex ! what look can be the look of innocence, if A- melia’s was not ? Brother, be a man. Forget a women unworthy of your love Let no recollection of a faithless wife intrude upon the joys of youth which beckon to you from every side. You have concealed this aflair, you have thereby spared the honor of my family, for which I thank you; and now trom this moment Amelia’s dead, her nami- is forever banish from our conversa tion.’ Baron T—kept his- promise. The name of the countess never fell from his lips; and though a secret sorrow like wise preyed on him; although the wast ed form of his once so much loved sister floated in his sight, yet he assumed a cheerful look, and together with his bro ther, rushed from one vortex of dissipa tion into another. One day they happened to he saunter ing in an open walk in the city, where noblemen and beggars, and persons ot every description promiscuously parad- d; suddenly the count espied a priest, pale, emaciated, and supporting himself upon a stick—‘Heavens!’ cried he, ‘see, that is Amelia’s confessor.’ Baron T. started, looked fearfully to wards him and was silent:—‘Come, tlear T.’ said Gustavus after a pause, let us tear the wound once more open. Twill address him. I will prove to him that I am well acquanted with every particular. He will not acknowletige any thing but his looks will betray him.’ He seized the baron’s at;m, and drew him aw’ay partly against his will. ‘Rev erend old man,’ commenced the count, ‘ whence the sorrow which I see betray ed upon your sallow cheek? ‘ It is not sorrow, my lord’ answered the priest. ‘ I stood upon the brink of the grave, but it has pleased the Almighty that I should return to this world. I am bet ter, and by order of my physician, have to day for the first time stepped into the open air.’ ‘I congratulate you,’ said the count. ‘Do you know me !’ —Ijndoubtedly my lord, I have the honor of speaking to the count — ‘True,’ replied he, ‘you are speaking to the unfortunate count Z. whose mise ry is to you alone no secret.’ ‘My lord,’ stammered Anselmo, ‘pardon me, I do not understand you.’ The count cast a look of bitter scorn at him. ‘You mean to say you must not under stand me. Have you not been surpris ed that during these three long years you have not seen my wife at the chair of absolution?’—‘No,my lord,’ return ed the priest.’ ‘I have not been sur prised. She probably has found a man more worthy of her confidence. It has hurt me, I will not deny, for she Isa no ble, excellent lady.’—‘All in vain, sir,’ said Gustavus,’ all in vain; your secrecy is needless. Know that on that hateftil eve of all Saints, I myself was conceal ed in the church, and heard the vile transaction which Amelia confessed to you. I knoiv the lovely youth for six inonths daily visited our bed chamber; and that each time he escaped while ICC were at supper. You sec, sir, all is knowMi. You have pardoned her in the name of God, but as 1 hope for par don from God, I cannot. Anselmo raised his hands and eyes towards heaven. ‘Almighty provi dence !’ exclaimed he, ‘ now do I see why thou hast not hearkened to my fer vent prayer, that I might depart to the habitations of peace ! Oh ! my lord, what have you done ? Your wife is in nocent ! You must remember young Wildham, the orphan whom you edu cated, and for whom you three years since procured an oflice in the customs. An unlawful amour took place between him and your servant, and their meet-* ings were in your chamber. Her lady ship at length detected them. She dis missed the servant instantly, but con cealed the whole from you, because she feared your hasty temper, and wished not to ruin the young man. To me she disclosed the whole transaction, because her scrupulous consciencc reproached her with the idea, that the girl, after her dismissal from your service, might be guilty of more irregularities.’ As if thunderstruck, tortured, racked by every word which fell from the lips of the confessor, stood count Z"*^, and trembled in every limb. He recollect ed that young W’ildham had lately' mar- rictl his maid servant, and acknowledged a child of some years old to be his own. The scales fell from his eyes; the mist disappeared; he saw' his beloved, sufler ing, innocent Amelia, and sunk almost senseless against a tree. I’he baron, al most as violently agitated, stood rooted to the spot, unable to speak. The pious priest immediately gave a signal to a hackney coachman, and conducted the brothers to tlifi count’s house. Scarcely had Gustavus recov''red his fiiculties, when he called aloud forhor- ,^os. During the few momeius enijjioy. ed in preparing them, he ran to and fro howling and wringing his hands. Jti * vain did the baron and Anselmo endea vor to console him ; he saw them not.- The horses arrived at the door; he rush ed down the steps, threw himself upon one of them, galloped away, without looking behind him, or asking whethei’ his brother would acompany him. Baron T. followed him. Away thev flew over hill and dale, day and night without resting a moment longer thau necessary to change horses. At mid, night, after the second day, they knock- at the gate of the castle. Amelia, stretched on a bed of straw just started from a terrific dream;—she heard the noise at the gaV's;—she heard them opened, and again barred. Hark! the footsteps of many persons echoed through the dark and lonesome gallery which led to her prison. Hark ! Tho key clinked in the lock of the iron door- the bolt was pushed aside; the glare of fifty torches dazzled Amelia’s eyes See! a writhing man lay at her feet— she recognised her husband. Oh ! who can describe the raptures of a guiltless soul, whose innocence is at length mani fest—of a tender heart, which at once recovers all that is dear to it ? As yet the count was stretched upon the earth sobbing, asking whether she could ever forgive him. She embrac ed him—and forgave him—attemptcii to raise him—in vain—he saw her wan disfigured countenance, and buried his face in the dust. Amelia at last knelt by his side, clasped him in her arms with heart felt afiection, and mixed her tears with his. Her brother, deep ly moved, surveyed, in silence, the af fecting scene. After the storm had subsided, and the three happy people had forsaken the dreary dungeon, Amelia, with ten der anxiety, and in a gentle tone said to her husband, ‘Where are my children? Are they still alive ? It must now he three years since I heard from them.’ In repentant agony the count again fell at her feet, and sw’ore he was unde serving ofpardon. The youngest child, a lovely girl, was immediately Drought from the boor’s wife. Amelia clasped it in her arms; every maternal feelinc; awoke, and for the first time tinged her pallid cheeks with red. The next morning shortly before their departure, the count commanded his steuward to destroy the odious turret, anl level it with the earth. ‘No,’ said Amelia smiling, and throwing her arms around her husha.nd’s neck, ‘ the tur- retmust remain as it now is, or whore should I have any evidence against yuu? These fallen cheeks will rise again,— these pallid lips will regain their color; these languid eyes will recover tbeir former lustre; but the turret, let the turret remain as it now is—let it be a warning to each traveller who passes on this road, never to condemn his wife on appearances.’ A person residing in Kirkaldy, Ireland, wears a coat made 126 years ago. The man is now 90. It was worn by his fa ther and himself on their wedding day. It still sel ves the latter for his Sundav coat. 11 is knowti that a gentleman ayed 90, now lives at Plymouth, Mass. who was graduated Harvard at College 70 years ago, who has the waistcoat worn by him when he received his degree, in good or der, which he shows his young friends as a curiosity. Astrology.—This occult science was much in vogue, among other errors, a few centuries ago. An astrologer fixing his eyes upon the Duke of Milan, said to him, ‘ My lord, arrange your afl’airs, ior you have not long to live.’—‘ How dost thou know this r’ asked the Duke. ‘ By my acquaintance with the stars, answer ed the astrologer. ‘ And pray, how Ion?: art thou to live ?’ ‘ My planet promises me a long life.’—‘ Well, thou shalt short ly discover that we ought not to trust to the stars.’ He ordered him to be hanged instantly. Salt Springs, which are found in a- bundance in the western part of these states, arc common to all countries. The salt springs of/Vfl/jcZ/c Complex inFraucr, are said to be somewhat remarkable. They are situated in a deep cavern, to which access is easy by a flight of some sixty steps, at the bottom of which the traveller enters upon an arched room* forty feet in length, and thirty-two in width. In a room, leading from this are six salt springs, issuing from th® same rock, which, with others, empty into a large basin. The water from th ’ basin, is conveyed in buckets into very large reservoirs, one of which holds 1j.' 00 and three otliers 25,0000 hogsheaus- From these it is drawn oft' into small cis terns for boiling. The water from these springs yields three ounces of salt, tor every pound of water. Besides the sal- springs thoi e are in the same cave scvci'U- fresh water springs.
The Journal (Salisbury, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Feb. 6, 1827, edition 1
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