Tllf. IlOMKS OF KN(iLANI).
IIV MBS. IIEMANS.
The stately Homes of England,
How beautiful they stand !
Amidst their tall ancestral trrcs,
O’er all the pleasant land!
The deer across their grecn-sward bound,
Through shade and sunny gleam ;
And the swan glides past them with the sound
Of some rejoicing stream.
‘L'he merry homes of England!
Around their hearths by night
What gladsome looks of household love
Meet in the ruddy light!
There woman’s voice flows forth in cons’,
Or childhood’s tale is told ;
Or lips move tunefully along
Some glorious page of old.
The blessed Homes of England ’
How softly on their bowers
Is laid the holy quietness
That breathes from Sabbath hours *
Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bcll’s chim^
Floats through the woods at morn ;
All other sounds in that still time.
Of breeze and leaf are born.
The Cottage Homes of England !
By thousands on her plains,
Tliey are smiling o’er the silvery brooks,
And round the hanilet fanes.
Through glowing orchards forth they peep,
Each from its nook of leaves.
And fearless there they lowly sleep,
As the bird beneath their eaves.
The free, fair Homes of England !
Long, long, in hut and hall,
"May hearts of native proof be rear’d,
To guard each hallowed wall ?
And green forever be the groves,
And bright the flowery sod,
%Vhere first the child's glad spirit loves,
Its Country and its God!
Mixing together profit and dtlight.
FOR THS CATAWBA JOmifAI..
Mr. Bingha.m : As ypu have had the
misfortunt^ like the fox in the fable, to be
caught ia the trap of mat.''imony, you en
deavor to make rare sport of those not
equally curtailed of their enjoyments ;
as in your last Journal, and generally,
by publishing every thing in derision of
the bachelors, but nothing in their favor,
in self defence If orward you the enclosed j
perhaps you may deem it proper to give
this a place in your.Journal, and oblige
OT OLD BACHELOn.
or
A PICTURE OF HEAL LIFE.
Injudicious censure rarely effects re
formation. The shafts of ridicule are
Ibrmidabie to the votaries of folly ; but
unless aimed by accurate judgment, and
pointed with skill, prove not only una
vailing, but wound the interest of hu
manity. Wit rolled forth without dis
cretion, often precipitates the author to
low vituperation and scurrillous slan
der. No class in society has been more
severely reprobated by facetious de-,
claimers in all ages, than the old Bach
elors—no character, possessed of equal
dignity, has been so unjustly traduced.
A Bachelor is one whom the refined
principles of philosophy, as well as the
jiiecepts ol the great Apostle to the
Gentiles, uniformly inlluence—who,
not desirous of analising the imperfec
tions of females, is engaj^ed in the more
noble pursuit of investigating the works
of nature—w'ho, net stooping to the
dull pleasures and vexations resulting
from domestic life, is drawing the must
refined gratitication from mental endow
ments, from the unbounded pleasures
of the imagination :—his family, the
>vhole human race ; his occupation, un
ci rcumscribed philanthropy.
This being, almost tlevated above
Ijs fellow man, has been often traduced
as an useless existence—a withered limb
of the barren fig tree—a moving meteor;
void of real life or alfeclion—a being
formed of the llJings and parings of tlie
rest of creation—a perfect anomaly, par
taking in so slight a degree of all things,
as not completely to identify any one,
either in disposition, endowment or sex
—in thoit, a mere* iVolick of blind
chance.
iJut why i.^^pcacIl the bachelor as the
.'■ole cause of solitary existence ? He
docs not alune f;x his destiny. Turn
over the |jat^es of real life, and there
you will l;ud, that tliere never was one
who did nut once wish, once use his
Jiighest endeavor, to be connected with
the object of h.s tender affection ; and
n’ho, struggling v. ith the fervour.of un-
returned aliiection, was forced to'say,
And must this bosom rnirse i flame
ifusoii slio»ild_j’fmovf^ >
T^’hv ♦wines aflcctioii round a rume
J-nrust no longer lovt t
'JiSujjpul.'i'.-.ia f.i'f, iiis warmest
love, a dctpoiulency glooms his mind,
and thus renders his soul intangible to
female ciiarms ; v. hilst with astonish
ment he beholds the irrational and un
happy choice made by numbers of the
most respectable females : hence he in
fers there is-a destined fatality attached
to all earthly things.
He views cool reason sacriuccd to sense,
Sees folly trillni])h and obtain the prize;
'I’hat prize whirh fancy’s idle whims dispense,
%Vhilc plighted virtue still rejected lies.
Experience thus pointing him to the in
consistencies of youthful attachments—
the transitory pleasures derived from
such fanciful connecti(nis—the iufelici-
ty through life which is the certain
concomitant of such indiscretion,—
prompts him to turn to sources of pleas
ure, which, though not so congenial to
his feelings, are less insecure. He thus
becomes a Bachelor, and realizing the
destiny of nature, cxclaims—
Oh ’ may my follie.«;, like the fading trees,
He stripp’d of every leaf by autunia’s wind;
May every branch of love embrace the bree/.e.
And nothing leave but virtue’s fruit behind.
Let us now turn to that page in real
lifcy where experience has recorded the
commencement and conclusion of con
jugal connections.
What situation in life is mos^ con
genial to happiness, is not a theme of
yesterday. Do the highest and most
permanent felicities of man enter in and
originate from domestic life ? Is the
married state a calm serenity of pleas
urable life ? Is it the enjoyment of ra
tional and,affectionate happiness? Is
it not as frequently the tempestuous
storm of conflicting passions } Is it not
often that sandy desert, unproductive
of enjoyment, where no flovvery par
terre sooths the troubled soul ; but
where the least blast of irritation sweeps
away every former trace of kindness,
and at the same time engraves on the
mind impressions of antipathy, perma
nent as the grave ?
Admitting that the anxiety and sor
row necessarily attached to raising a
family, are compensated by the j)leas-
ing hopes and rising respectability of
descendants,—which is highly problem
atical,—whence then results the high
prospect of domestic enjoyment which
participates in so eminent a degree in
the instability of all earthly good ?
But let us view this connection in its
mobt endearing form, where the perpe
tuity and increase of domestic bliss
have been commensurate w’ith the lapse
of time, and trace the ultimate result
of human endearment, of this earthly
bliss. Here we Hnd true reciprocal
affection, founded on permanent e^idow-
ments, refine and elevate the heart; the
bloom of reciprocal affection brightens
on the cheek ; the hand of mutual ten
derness eases up life's craggy sleep,
reaching the bowers of contentment and
the plains of peace ; the affectionate
smile of approbation stamps its own
impress on its partner, and a thousand
tender offices smooth the thorny path of
life :—even in adversityy the tender
melancholy of sympathetic affection
pours forth in virtuous sorrow a secret
charm, mingled with the painful emo
tion ;—each moves in the wide sphere
of mutual conlidence, where the cor
diality of afl'ection carries consolation^
even when sensibility shrinks from the
scene of adversity :—the same motives,
the same interests, the same incentives
to action, regulate and solace their lives.
Happy is such a connection, soothetl
by the cordial intercourse of kind affec
tion—how smooth the tenor—what a
smiling aspect does their life pourtray!
Domestic life thus cnjo^"'d, is that germ
of hap|)iness which hears the bloom of
bliss ; its fruit is that balm of life which
thus far secures the felicity of man ; its
leaves protect from the scorching influ
ence of passion, and its unfading ver
dure,, fanned by the zepliyrs of mutual
love, beautifies and embellishes the scen
ery of life, and coolly sliades cur pas
sage to the vale of tears.
Ihit where, on this earth, shines the
lustre of perpetual good } Where hums
the lamp of unintcn'uj)ted bliss ? Where
blooms felicity without a blast ?
Ui u, .aWc .......tie, .-ci. I. tl.u ; peace. Tl.en I'-"'';
nor any thing hut her ioys oj cniiie tan
silent toinh, no 1110:0 to Teiiciiatc, no
more to solace the dreary solitude of
life. What pleasurable scene then in
existence, can compensate this world of
woe ; where, too olten, the mind re
volting at its destiny, arraigns the prc-
ceedings of heaven as cruel and severe,
sinks to despondency, or vibrates to the
unhappy extreme of dissipation, in
temperance, and degradation.
MENTOR.
for • any station in life, that
[The following articles we tound in the hand
writing of Mr. J. H. who, it appears, copied ^ •
them from a book called tlu.- Universal Speeta- i sorrow and Complaining
tor, in t'le year 1750. Mr. H. was afterwards
a worthy and valuable ininistt r ot the gospel in
Northampton.]—{Milsh ) Guz.
THE MAURIK1> STATE.
Amanda proceeded on Uie married
state, thus—Marriage is without doubt
a state of the sincerest human happiness,
as it is the best fitted for the most ex
alted friendship ; in all other circum
stances interfering interest, prevent the
possibility of so linn a union, as here,
where the interests of both parties must
be the same. One would v/onder then,
tiiat so few in it can boast of true fe
licity : but this is owing very much to
the fallacious forms of courtship, and
the strange alteration which follows as
soon as the lover commences husband
and the mistress is made wife. Imme
diately the subject becomes the sover-
eign, and uneasiness must always hap-
jien from such a sudden change of gov
ernment. The mask both sides wore,
usually thrown off' too soon ; then
c ire to please abates, love grows cold,
sickens, languishesj and dies perhaps at
last, and then, adieu to happiness. But
every couple should remember that
from the day their hands are joined,
their wretchedness or their felicity is
entirely dependent upon each other,
and. Love, which before, may be, was
ey
liis own di.««crel!Ou ; I.ut a y cung
has done—Imished—tha circle of-he,'
science is con^plete ; and she is ready
may be
Now, Wl.y, i„
the name'oi common sense may not t
woman thi5K, and if she may thint
why may she not study, and acquiiv,^
profitable food for thought}
There is a lady, of whom I have
some knowledge, that “finished hei
education,” by leaving peculiarly goofi
advantages at an early age. She is nov
a wife and mother of six children.~ .
ungenerously leave her to 1 she plays well upon the Piano—sinp
omplaining, is more detes-1 sweetly—dances elegantly—itj very po
lite, &c.—but her husband must, anl
actually does put all the children to bed.
and takes care of them through thu
night; and as to her table—the breaij
is execrable, to one who has visited hi;
grand-mother’s pantry ; and her coff../
—O! her coffee! it would cost her he-
head, if the very scent of it reachcd
the Grand Turk^s palace—and yet th»'.
lady has “finished her education,’^
justify’his leaving her; and whether ot
no he h«s promised marriage, maUes
very little difference; for surely it he thrown in her v*ray.
has courted her affection, and gained itl^»^^ —
too, upon the reasonable supposition
that he intended making her his wile,
the contract in the sight of Heaven is
of equal force. He, who basely impo
ses upon the honest heart of an unsus
pecting female, and after winning her
affection and esteem by the soft and pre
vailing rhetoric of courtship and per
suasion, can
table than a common robber, in the same
proportion as private treachery is more
villanous than open robbery, and mon-j
of less concern than happiness.
Domestic '.iliss—tliis,—virtue’s Tiirest ilower.
And all thut beauty, all thut love e’er gave,
Alike must meet tli’ inevitable hour:
All earthly pleasures lt;id Imt to the grave.
Fate, by a sudilcn blow, strikes its
unhapijy victim in its arms ; tlie fairest
fiovvcr IS stripped IVom iiis tree of eartli-
Iv bliss, to bloom no iiiorc. In the
height of enjoyment, when pleasure
twines around our heart, and \vc enfold
in our busorn happiness itself, it vanish
es like a delusion from our fond em
brace. Dwelling by retrospection on
joys that arc no more, fortune or fame
is empty pageantry ;—the very scat of
feeling has been assaih'd, and in projior-
tion to the sensibility of mind, and ten
derness of all'ection, such, unfortunate
ly, will he the degree of^ilent anguish
tor that helovc'J c'jmpanio!i, v. h?; shruu-
TIIE SLATTERNLY WIFE
To a man of any delicacy, and even
moderate neatness, nothing certainly is
more odious and ungrateful, than a slat
ternly and uncleanly woman—’tis e
nough to quell his strongest passions and
damp every fond and tender emotion
’tis vastly more so in a w'ife, than in a
stranger. Besides, ’tis an insult upon a
man’s tAste, an affront to his senses and
bullying him to the nose. Let us sur
vey the morning dress of some women,
Down stairs they come, pulling up
their dirty, ungartered stockings—slip
shod with naked heels peeping out ; no
stays, or other decent conveniency, but
all flip-flop ; a sort of a clout thrown
about the neck, without form or decen
cy ; a tumbled, discolored mob, or night
cap, half on and half off”, with the frow
zy hair hanging in sweaty ringlets, star
ing like Medusa with her serpents;
shrugging up her petticoats that are
sweeping the ground and scarce tied on;
hands unwashed, teeth furred, and eyes
crusted. This is the real picture of
many married women, and the piteous
case of many a poor soul of a husband,
unless when some stranger is expected
Whereas a wife that is desirous of main
taining herself in the affections of a man
of sense and spirit, shoQld take as much
care of the neatness of her person, as if
she was to be every day a bride, and
whosoever neglects this conduct, must
blame themselves, if their husbands
grow cold and indifferent; for it has a
natural tendency to make a man so : it
debases the character of the wife, and
renders her cheap and unlovely.
“I WILL r.IVE YOU REST.’*
The great difficulty which Christian
ity has had to encounter in other cases,
is that it requires submission to certain
restraints.—Its yoke is easy and its bur
den light; but a yoke it was to the
Greeks and Romans, and to Celts and
Goths, whose previous belief laid them
under few or no restrictions. In the
Braminical system every thing is bur
densome, and its lax morality is a poor
compensation for its oppressive ritual.
A fine instance occurred to the Danish
missionaries of the efl'eet produced by
offering an easier law. A penitent on
the Malabar coast having inquired of]
the many Brahmins and Yoguees how
he might make atonement for his
was directed to drive iron spikes thro’
his sandals, and thus go shod a pilgrim
age, of nearly five hundred miles. If
through loss of blood or w'cakness of
body, he was obliged to halt, that was.
allowable till he had recovered strength
to proceed. One day as he was halting
only passion, becomes the highest act of
reason from that time.
There can’t be a more f ital error, than
the common one, of believing that all
pains of pleasing are now needless,—
on the contrary to be obliged by, and to
oblige each other, ought to be tlieir mu
tual and constant inclination. Their be
haviour should always be conformable
to good nature and good manners. They
mutually must bear with each others
foibles, and with care guard ajjainst the
beginnings of discontent, on eitht:r side,
but if any difference should arise, let
their generous contention be, not who’s
most to blame, nor who’s right or v/ho’s
wrong, but who shall soonest put an
end to it. And I recominend particu
larly to my own sei, tliat' smiles and
complaisai.ee are the most convincing
argumetits to win the lioart, and that in
their condition, to yield, is the only
way to conquer. As the husband’s
province is to manage the grand affairs
of life, so it is the wife’s wisely to reg
ulate the family : it is her duty, her
interest, .'hkI ought to be her study, to
prevent disorder there, to make his
home al’.vays pleasing to him, to be ev
er ready to receive him thare with open
arms and cheerful looks, and diligently
to avoid every thing which may wear
the face of unkindness or neglect.—
But more than all, the business of her
life should be to keep her husband’s
love ; for the wife can have no other
power than what he gives her, and if
once that is lost, her case is bad indeed.
In order therefore to preserve it she
ought to make herself as amiable in his
ryes as possible ; the pains siie look be
fore marriage to chaiin him, should be
redoubled now ; her dress, her looks,
her words, her every action should be
suited to his taste ; he should never see
her but in good humor, nor hear from
her any thing but the most endearing
expressions of regard. She from the
first should resolve upon no occasion ev
er to quarrel with him, or impertinent*
ly to oppose his temper. Her expenses
should be regulated, not by his fortune
only, but his way of thinking also
should be considered. She ought to
pay no visits, or receive; any company,
but what he a))provcs ; for his eateem
is to her of more importance than that
of all the world besides—her whole
haj)pincss dej)ends upon if.
r. S. 'I’hrice happy will that man he
with whom Amanda puts in practice the
advice she gives. J. H.
JJeeeyubcr 5, 1750.
roi;KTsifir.
Love (whatever some think of it) is
not a passion to he sported v.-ith, nor
the affection of a lady to be attempted,
till a man is well assured his own is I to visitors and worn only on set occa-
founded on a lasting principle. All sions. Mr. Editor, I protest against
imaginary cantion is necessary and ad
visable beforehand ; but, after his pro
fessions of regard, his services, his so
licitations have won her heart, and made
him dear to her ; honor, ju'>-
liec, ail oblige him to niake good his
and bu cireful otLher
Buonaparte's Sontf! Clothes—Alexan
der’s admiration of Napoleon was, as ij
well known, unbounded, and he mani
fested it in every way. A line in a play
performed before them wa% “Thefriend
ship of a great man is a present from
the Gods Alexander bowed to Napo-
leon, and said that line was written for
me. He even carried his respect for
Napoleon so far, as to rise when he en
tered the theatre. Napoleon knew how
to flatter his brother Emperor, and sent
Col. Henri to him one morning; to give
the sign and countersign for the day
My brother N poleon is too confident,
too amiable : it is impossible to be more
gallant; but I am not at home j I am his
truest, it is for him to give the word j go,
I pray you, and tell him so.” ‘‘Sire, I
have orders not to return without obtain
ing it from your Majesty.” “Well, as
he insists on it, I will give it. Erfurth
and Confdence.'* One day, Alexander
expressed his ardent desire to have a pal:-
of Napoleon’s breeches. Duroc, the
grand marshal of the palace, sounded his
master on the subject. Napoleon lau;jli-
ed heartily. “Oh, by all means,” said
he, “give him them all if he wishes it,
only leave me a pair for a change.” This
may be vouched for as authentic ; but 1:
is not equally certain, though stronglv
af!irmed by many, that Alexander, who
was very superstitious, made the cam
paigns of 1812 and 1813, in Buonaparte’s
breeches.—not in the forthcoia-
ing histonj.'-^Litcrary Gazette.
The publication of th« third volume
of Count Segur’s Memoirs, comprisT,},''
his curious conversations with Catharine
II. has excited still more interest than
the preceding Tomes. In fact, a noble
man and a man of talent, who has had
the advantage of seeing three distinct
States of Affairs and Society in France—
its condition, first under the old regime
—then during the revolution—and again
under the restoration of the Bourbons,
could hardly fail to produce a work both
instructive and entertaining; added 10
this, the count has undergjne the most
singular reverses of fortune; all the vi
cissitudes of prosperity and adversity,
of credit and disgracc, of opulenc** :nd
poverty, of exaltation and debasen ent;
appearing in his alternations, ‘‘not one
but all mankind’s eptiome.” His senti
ments are often singular, and he di .•
with an amusing naivete, both opinions
and facts, which an Englishman would
rather keep to himself.
[^London Courier.
under a tree, one of the missionaries i
came and preached in his hearing, from
these words: 7'/ie blood of Jesus
eleanseth from all sin. While he was
preaching, the man rose up, cast off" his
torturing sandals, and cried out aloud,
this is what I want! “ And he becamc,
says Thomas, a lively witness that the
blood of Christ docs indeed cleanse
from all sin. ” Come ye who arc heavy
laden, is truly the invitation which the
Gospel holds out to the Hindoos. It is
liberty to the oppressed, emancipation
to the enslaved, equality to the degra
ded—good tidings of great joy to all.
All human affections and instincts are
on its side in Hindostan ; it forbids the
mother to expose or sacrifice her child,
the w’idow to be burnt with her hus-
hands's corpse; the son to set fire to
his living mother’s funeral pile.
^London Quarterly Revievu.
ILLUSTRATION OF SrRl? l UKE.
("From Dr. Clarke’s Travelt in Jlaia j
After leaving “the fountain of the
Virgin Mary” we ascended to the town,
and were conducted to the house ot the
principal Christian inhabitant of Naza'
reth. Scarcely had we rcached the a
partment’ prepared for our reception,
when looking from the window into the
court yard belonging to the house,
beheld two women grinding at the mill,
in a manner moat forcibly illustratinf;
the saying of our Saviour.* They were
preparing flour to make our bread, as 1'
is always customary in the country
strangers arrive. The two women, seat
ed upon the ground, opposite to each
other, held between them two round flat
stones, such as are seen in Lapland, anc.
such as in Scotland are called querns;^
but the circumstance is so interesting
(our Saviour’s illustration actually
rinir to an existing custom in the placc
^ r. .. . • P V re.-
. , , , . of his earliest residence) that a Hti'f
“She has finished her education,” may perhaps be pardoned. IQ
said my friend. I inished her educa- tj,e c.«ntre of the tpper stone was a cavi*
tion! said I—just as though a young ty for pouring in corn ; and by the side
lady’s education was a stocking or ra- of this, an upright wooden handle fo''
ther a bonnet, and now it was to be I moving the stone. As the operation be-
i placed in the band box, to be displayed gan, one of the women, with her riR
’ ’ hand, pushed the handle to the wonia
sions.
the doing up and finishing oil' a young
lady’s education with her teens—just at
that time when she begins, if she ever
docs begin, to think. A young man
has just acquired at one and twenty, the
oleijients of education, and is prepared
'0 study advai^^gcously
opposite, who again sent it to her com
panion—this communicating a roiap' ^
very rapid motion to the upper jtone >
their left hands being all the while
ployed in supplying fresh corp as
the bran and fluur escapcd frotfi the sid'’-'
of the machine. .
M:\tih. x^v.'! 1 ‘T—