Newspapers / The Greensboro Patriot (Greensboro, … / July 18, 1846, edition 1 / Page 1
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' ; , J w. '' . -J ; ... - i ' f n,- 1 - - - - --r- - i .r T' i ?. " ; net a. " " iv,..;!i'.'-'-.' .rji i ... .. ... . ...... 1 ' -:.,-.''.. .. "t- 1 " :t-.-i L ' f'-.1 i. ' '' . h. y i - -.- 7 ,.. - ,v j -'' 4 , " , . J ; . ?szZzz-r , .,,:,? v :. . 1 " , --' . , ,r:. -- -- -. ,.. v, h. : . , ..- .-jiIjcc' i . . , ' ' ' ' 1 M .- JSJZJ." , TTTT-r- 1 '' . . i- ....... ,..,,; . ,. .v. a , ........ .. .... , . ., . , , , i t. , '. " L i, ,i . n ,.n .f VOLUME.! VIII, GREENSBOROUGH, NORTH-CAROLINA", JULY 18, 1846. 'NUMBER 16 v... , I'-' . v i v- : ... u ,- .r ...,a . -TT . ,. ... ........ ... ,;.. if.-. ... r.. ... . ... . , - . .. a . iBlYS W'A I M-& S II II WO 0 D . i 7 v rillCE, TIIIIEH DOLLARS A, YEAR o 52.50, i r rim vn this ox MtfSTU nitt tw dii- f'; . ''It." .0r'"",fHPTIOJ. 1 A ftilur on thr part of any customer toorJur a Jicoiitin Hunce within tlto UbjcripUon year, will be considered In. ictiT of hi wwh to coutinuclhfc paper. if ; THE GKEEN ISLE OK LOVEIW." Vliey say, that, afjf in the land of the west, -tMhereHh bright golJen mn ainki in glory to rrt, 'Mi J lens where IhB bailter ne'er vt-utured to tiead, A fair lake, unruffled and aparkting u ipread ; . Where, lost in Lu eoure, the rapt Indian dicorcr, ludiiUnceacca dimly, the green ile of lover. Therewduro fidci new; immortal in bloom, Soft wave the magnolia it grove of perfume i And low bend tlio branch with fruitage drpremed, r- 11 glowing ike grm in the crown of (be eaul ; There it bright eye of nature in mild glory hover : 'Ti the land of Ilia u libra in, the green flo of lover. 'Sweet train wildly float on lhi breeze that kiu The calm-flowing lake round that region of lliiui , Wucre, wreathing tlieir garland of amaranth, fair choir . (ilad measure itill weave to tlio sound that iniiirc - J be dance and the revel, mid forest that cover )n high, witlrthiir ahado, the green isle of the hirer.' But fierce a the snake, with his rycbalU of fire, When hi scale are all brilliant and glowing with ire, Are. the warriors to all. the mud of tlieir ule, WboM law i their will, and . whoso life i their rnilc ; Trom beauty, there, valor and atrcngth are not rover, 'And peace reign supreme in tiie green Ule of lover. f And he'ttho has sought to set foot on it shore, .tln mate pvrplexeii, has beheld it no more ; Jt fleets on tboviaion,1, deluding the view; ' .' tt bank (till retire a' the hunter pursue : a . i . i i .. i I r i. n i; 'Tb hoin undisturbed, the green isle of the lover! A-t-f u.-i.i i x. l mm. l .... L.j. ;- . TIIE.YELLOW BOUQUET k v . FROM THE 8PAM81I. . '-. .i i i i , . 1 1. . . ..." . It is now two years since I became acquainted with the old lady who liw near us. She is a misble, ititclligent, and passionately fond of flow ers. "You Would hardly imagino how much plea cure 'it alTords me to arrange handsomo ' bouquets for her, and to witness her delight when I present Ter wuh any rare flowers.'1 : " - ' ' " tThc other day,2 1 met at her house an old gen- ttleman.whoaboutayear ago, took possession of an estate in the neighborhood, which had been left iiai by a relative, on condition ofhis relinquishing his own name and assuming that of the property -he is called the Sjenor Destondraies.' He has 1e eomvery; intiinat0 yith my old friendi and they generally spend etrery afternoon . in playing at lack-gammon together. Vi 4 " ; - ' - On entering,! saluted them silently, that I might nol interrupt the game, and, after it was finished, 1 offered! the Seriora de Dorgerel a bouquet of yel low roses,Vb!ch 1 had broaght for her. , My roses ver fanutiful, though"' generally the yellow roses bare jot flourished this season, on account of the too'abundant rains; mine, sheltered by the roof, are almost the only ones that hare opened. The Senora praised my flowers ery highly 5 the Senorpfsowdraies said nothing; but seemed lostjq ''thought,"- l;looked at bim, without being able ib comprehend the mysterious influence of , m if rma Vint aa fK Runnra timt fkn mtrAsA r C " Mfjr UV O ,VUI ff lll W SV1 V JC SJVB ffVMG Vl something else, my attention waj withdrawn from , . ''r-mti'tr )... .... After a pause, the Senor suddenly exc!uimed- Would you believe that this bouquet, has re called,,aj in a magic glass, the events of my youth ! Witbiu tht Ust five minutes I have again become desperately er.amored of a lady, who, if yet alive . tJjinust nowbe nearly sixty. , l will tell you the ,jttery i it is a circumstance, which has had great infiuence ovyr the whole of my life, and the bare recollection of it, even now, when tny blood has Jiardly warmth enough to enable nib to live, and iupport the exertions of playing at back-gammon, moves me . in an extraordinary, manner. It , is more-than forty years ago, and I was then twen tflr.; I'Jiad just left college, when young men in (hose days stayeil rather longer thahtbey do at the present iime. ; My fatber had been long-considering wliat wpulJ 1 be the most eligible, occupation for ine r one moi-ning be entered the room and an nounced that he had obtained for me a Lieutenan cy in the I Regiment, then stationed in the city of Au vergue. . I was to start in three days. I remained almost stupified ; in the first place I did "not like the profession, though this objection, had it been the only. one, might doubtless . hare been -easily overcome; the eight of n fine uniform, a few ambitious ; woids. and a little nmitial music, -would 8opnhave convened me into an Archilles or a Caisar. " 1 ' t-' , ', j-,. l3ut I was in love ! T ' '"Nothing in the world wou.'d have induced me tay a Word on this iulject to my fatberT I well new his only reply mould fee nn order to leave jt'hat very day. But I had an uucle. and such an Uncl l lle was then about as old as I ' now am, "but he wasVnotwiiUstaoding, very young; not aT xe'garded himself, for neve hape I known any one who renounced, with . a better grace, " the pomps and vanities of this wicked world i" but hi Soved young people ; be understood and sy mpa . thized with them lie lived in (he felicity of 0- there,he was a confident in all lore affairs and he 1 was interested ulike in tho liopes und fears of tbe I inert went directly to his house, and said to h.im . . r '.V i t..-;.,": ' . ;. ,. 5(Jncle, I am vcry;nnfortunate."f,, I h f will bet twenty lou'ui to the contrarV." w" "fAii, ; tiuclc f pray do -not jest j besrdes you , x ccridiaiy pay , wm Uiat-satwiy Honey bus nothing to do With my difll- cultu-a." . "Tell mo them." " My father has just told me that I am appoint ed Lieutenant in the Regiment !" great misfortune, really ! The officers are all noble, and are one of the most brilliant uni forms.' "Uncle I do not wish to be a sdldiett " How ! not wish to be a soldier f You are not a coward surely T" " I cannot say ; but I (know that no one else ihoulJ ask me such a' question'" Well, then, my friend, why do you not wish to be a soldier?" 1 " Because I would rather marr.y-, unole." Poh ! Nonsense !" "No nonsense, uncle lam in love!" '' The devil! And you call this a misfortune, you ingrale ? But who is the object of this vio lent passion ?" "An angel!" " "'Of course ; they are always angels at your age ; nlher later you will prefer a woman. But pray let me know to what human name this an gel ofyours answers?" " Her name is Noemi, sir." That is not what I as'ed. Noemi she is to yu, and the name is a pretty one ; but as I really wish to know who t his said angel is, you will have to tell me her family name.' "It is the Senorita A me lot, uncle." " The Senorita Amelot ! She is better than an angel! A brunette, hah ! finely formed and eyes like black velvet !" "Ah, uncle! if you but knew her soul!" " I know I know ! but is the attachment feci- procoted, as they used o say t' "1 flon't "know, sir." " How ! don't know, unworthy nephew I Dp you go every day to her house, and not know whether ahe loves you I 1 1 "Not even whether she knows bow passionate lyllove her.- ' - XV,' ' - -"Don't deceive yourself, my handsome ne phew ; you don't understand these things. --She knew it at least a quarter of an hour .before you were aware of it yourself.? J. "1 only know, uncle, that I cannot live without her." : fOh ! ohj Senor nephews 1 very much fear that she will, never be yours. Your father is much richer than her's and will riot, I am, afraid, consent." In that case my resolution's taken." : " Come come ! you shall commit no folly. Listen to me." Vell.wr," " Then, in the first place, you cannot marry at twenty." "And wby not, uncle !" " Becatise I flonot approve it, and this marriage cannot lake place withoat my approbation." " My dear uncle" '' " If tbe lady loves yon, and will promise to wait three years" "Three years!" " Not a word, or I shall say four. If she will wait three eaTS, you shall join your regiment; but not at Clermont. I will effect an exchange for you into our nearer vans, when you can come every three or fotfr months." " Buthow shall I know whether she loves me?" " A fine question, truly ! Ask hei." " Oh, uncle, I dare not!" "In that case, you had better prepare to obey your futher." u But, uncle, you do not know what sort of a woman she is. A hundred times have I been on the point of declaring my love. I have reproach ed myself for my cowardice havo tried in a thousand different ways to encourage myself I havtf written letters, and considered beforehand vhal to soy. She is so gentle and yet so digni fied, that it appears to me she can never love any maa. 1 " But, my boy, yea thust decide for that rea son : your father has not told you nil ; he sends you to Clermont becouse the Colonel of the regi ment is his friend, . and has a daughter who is des tined for you. She is rich ana beautiful but I will say no 'more, for I know that nil this will have no weight with you, now that your affections are bestowed elsewhere. It is, to be sure, a gretft folly ; yet I know I should reproach myself if I did not assist you. Old people Call these illusions, but who knows whether their own ideas rather are not illusions! The telescope which diminishes objects, is no more correct than that which magni fies 'them.' You must first ascertain whethershe Joves you. Her parents wish to marry her to a oian richer than yourself. Moreover he has a ti tle, you turn pale ; and wish . that your rival were but within reach of your arm: is it not so! Well, then, try to retain a little of this courage when you present yourself before ' the ' handsome Noemi. Tell her you love her. She knows it already : but the declaration has to be . made. "Ask if the attachment is reciprocated od tell her (the ought to love you, you handsome fellow !)- tell her toi wait three years foryou. Tben r will break ofl the other marriage get you exchanged into aoctter regiment, and at the end of three years, in spite of youi father and her's" youihall .be married.?; r':.''; : - " '". ..'.' V. . :.y;:- C " Uncle, an idea strikes m', t-- Let us have it."--I will write to her." ' As you pleare." v. ."J left my uncle, and went home to wriie my letter. I did not find this so difficult, as I had at ready written obouta hundred and fifty but what embarrassed me was the sending it to her. However, as there was no time for hesitation, I quickly decided. I procured a bouquet of yellow roses, and concealed the letter among them. , ') After having declared my love, 1 besought her to recirocate it. I begged her if my petition were granted.to wear one of the roses in her belt that night. ' Then,' said I, 4 maydare to speak to you, and tell you what course to pursue, in or der to secure my felicity I dare not add your own." " Ah ! you put the letter in the bouquet then !" interrupted the Senora de Lorgerel. "Yes. Senora." 1 "And afterwards?" " That night, Noemi had no rose in her belt. 1 could have killed myself. My uncle insisted on carrying me to Clermont. lie stayed there two months mingled with the young officers, and succeeded in diverting my mind anJ proving to me that Noemi hadnever cared for me." "But, uncle," said I, "she was she seemed always so glad when I came, and chid me ho sweetly when I delayed." " Women like admiration even from persons whom they do not love." " At lengili I succeeded in forgetting her. I mar ried tbe Colonel's daughter, whoe'ied eight years after our marriage. I am now quite alone, for I lost my good uncle a long time ago. But, would you believe it, I, still think of Noemi, and, what is yet more singular, I see her always as she then was sixteen yea-rsjold with her raven hair, and eyes like black velvet, as my uncle used to say. Though she must by this lime be a very old lady." "And you never heard what became of her !" "Never!" " Your name was not then tho Senor Oescon draies!" . "No, that is the name of my uncle's estate. My own is Edmund de Ahheim." "Is it really possible!" Certainly '"Then I will tell you what became of Noemi now! She loved you !" But the yellow roses !" " She never discovered your letter. She re gretted your sudden departure but afterwords married the Senor de Lorgerel.' " The Senor de Lorgerel !" " Yes, the Senor de Lorgerel, whose widow I iiwi, wtu. " What, you ! you Noemi Amelot I" "As truly as you are, or were, Edmund dn Ahheim!" " Who would have believed that we should ev er meet again ?" " And only to play at backgammon !" "But the bouquet?" " The bouquet you shall see 1 I have always preserved it." And the Senora, rising, took from her cabinet an ebony box, whence with trembling hands she drew a faded bouquet. ' " Untie Tt "Oinie it 1" cried the Senor Deacon draies. . She did so, and discovered the letter which had becri placed there forty-two years fcefwe. - Both were silent. I rose to take my leave the Senor rose also. The Senora de Lorgerel took bis hand, saying : " You are right, my old friend ; we have both too many wrinkles to allow ourselves to be agi. tnted by these youthful recollections. Let us change this feeling into a sentiment which may perhaps render happy the remnant of out irves. Do nol return for two or three 4ys.n From that time, my two old friends have hardly been, separated a moment. There exists in their hearts a feeling to which I have seen nothing similar. "They talk over a41 the little unexplained details of their love. They have a thousand things to relate. They loved retrospectively: they would marry, but they dare not. -;;.'...: ' SUM ME It. "V ' ' IIow fast the rapid hour retire ! How soon the spring was done ! And now no cloud keeps off the firo - Of the bright, burning un. . 1 - The slender flower-bud dread to swell In that unclouded blue. And treasure. in its fading bel The spaik of morning dew. The stream bounds lightly from the spring To cool and shadowy caves; , And tho bird dip hi weary wing . ( Beneath it sparkling wave. AN Inveterate Wmo pABsoN.i--The worthy and eccentric partem B. lately attended a school examination in Maine, and after asking many questions, expressing his gratification at the pro ficiency of the scholars, and wishing to "encour age the rising generation," exhorted them to per 8eere: " My young Iherids persevere, and you catmot fail of success, some of you may yet make Washington, Fianklins or Webstcrs, all of you tan ntaJce PotktV . rv tPloughingby the-horses tails was abolished by Act of Parliament jn( Ireland;" 11 andl2 Car. II. e. 15;" the tt Barbarous custotne of ploughing hjy the tayle of horses, whereby the treed of horse la much impayred,' is declared illegal, and pun- islmlile ly ne and penalty, . THE TI1UNDE It STORM. I Ncrek was a man of feeble courage. There are few scenes either of human or elettierftal strife, upon which I have not looked With a brow of daring. I bare stood in ihe front of battle, when swords were gleaming and circling around me like fiery serpents of the air I have set on "ihe mountain pinnacle; when the whirlwind was rending its oaks from their rocky clefts and scat tering them piecemeal the clouds I have seen these things with a swelling soul, that knew not, that recked not of danger; but there is some thing in the thunder's voice that makes me trem ble like a child. I have tried to overcome this unmanly weakness I have called pride to my eifi -I have sought for moral courage in the les sons of philosophy but it avails me nothing at the first low moaning of tho distant cloud my heart sinks, quivers, gasps, and dies within me. My involuntary dread of thunder had U origin in an incident that occurred when I was a child of ten years. I had a little cousin a girl of the same age with myself, who had been the constant companion of my childhood. Strange, that after a lapse of almost a score of years, that countenance should be so familiar to me. I tan teetiie Witrbt youiig creature ber large eyes flashing like a beautiful gem, her free locks streaming as in joy upon the-rising gale, and ber cheek glow ing like a ruby through a wreath of transpar ent snow. Her voice had the melody and joy -ousne 8S of a bird's and when she bounded over the wooded hill or the fresh green vauey, shout ing n glad answer to every voice of nature, and clasping her little hands in the ecstacy of young existence, she looked 03 if breaking away like a freed nightingale' from the earth, and going off where all things were beautiful like her. It was a morning in the middle of August. The little girl had been passing some days at my father a house, and she was now to return home. Her path lay across the fields, and I gladly be came the companion of her walk. I never knew a summer morning more beautiful and still. Only one little cloud L was visitie, und that seemed as pure and white, and peaceful, as if it had been the smoke of some burning censor of the skies. The leaves hung silent in the woods, the waters of the bay had forgotten their undulations, the flowers were bending their heads as if dreaming of the rainbow and the dew, and the whole- at mosphere were of such a soft and luxurious sweet ness, that it seemed a cloud of roses, scattered down by the hands of a Peri from the far off gar dens of paradise. The green earth and the blue sea lay abroad in their boundlessness, and the peaceful sky bent over and ' blessed them. The little creature at my side was in a delirium of hap piness, and her clear, sweet voice came ringing upon the air as often as she heard the notes of a fuvouritc bird, or found some strange and lovely flower in her frolic wanderings. The unbroken and almost supernatural tranquility of the day continued until nearly noon. Then for the first time, the indications of an approaching tempest were manifest. Over tbe summit of a mountain, at the distance of about a mile, the folds of a dark cloud became suddenly visible, and at the same instance a hollow roar came down upon the winds, as if it had been the sound of waves in a rocky cavern. The cloud rolled out like a banner fold upon the air, but still the atmosphere was as calm and the leaves as motionless as before, and there was not even a quiver upon the sleepingwaXeTs to tell of the coming hurricane. 1 - To escape tbe tempest was impossible. . As the only resort, we fled to an oak that stood at the foot of a tall and rugged precipice. Here we re mained looking breathlessly upon tho clouds, marshalling themselves like bloody giants in the sky. The thunder was not frequent, but every burst was so fearful that the young creature who lood by me shut her eyes so convulsively, clung wit-h .desperate ttrength to my arm, ami shrieked as iT heT heart would break. A few minutes and the storm was upon" u. During the height of Us fury, the little girl raised heir finger towards tho precipice that towered above us. I looked up, and the next moment the clouds opened, tho rocks tottered to their foundations, a roar like tho groan of an universe filled the air, and 1 felt myself "blinded and thrown I knew not whither. How long I remained insensible I cannot tell, but when r consciousness re turned, the violence of the tem pest was abating, the roar of the winds dying in the t,ree-lops, and the deep tones of the storm comins in fainter mermurs from the eastern hills. 1 I'nroee, and looked trembling and almost deliri ously around. $ht was there the dear idol of :ny infant love stretched out upon, the wetgreen earth. After a 'moment of irresolution, I went up and looked upon her. The handkerchief up on her was slightly rent, and a single dark spot upon her bosom, told where the pathway of death had been. At first I clasped ber to my breast, with a cry of agony, and then laid ber down and gazfcd intpher face, almost with a feeling of cahn ness . tier bright dishevelled ringlets clustered sweetly around her trow, the look of.terror had fulleln from her lips, on J an infant smile was pic tured beautifully there ;, the red rcW tinge upon her chc'ek;'Vs)lovea'ln.ljfexand as I pressed it to my own;' the fountain of tears- was opened, and I wept as if my1 .bead were iv aler. - I have tut aslini recollection of what followed--! only know that I remainedC weeping and. motionless till the cowing on of twilight, and that I was then takes tenderly by tbe band, and led awly where I saw the countenance 'dfptfrerilt and sisters. Many years 'have gone by upon the wings of light and shadow, but the scene I- have portray ed still comes over me at times, with a terrible distinctness. The old oak yet stands at tba base of the precipice, but its limbs are black and dead and its hollow trunk, looking upward to the sky as if " calling to the clouds for drink," is art cm t ' ' a ' " " Diem 01 rapid and noiseless decay. A year ago I visited the spot, and the thoughts of by-gone daya came mournfully back to me tHoughta of tbe little innocent being who fell by my side like some beautiful tree of spring rent up by the whirl wind in tbe midst of its blossoming. But I re membered and oh ! there was joy in the memory that she had gone where no lightnings slum ber in the folds of the rainbow cloud, and where the -sunlit waters hie never broken by the stbrm breath of Omnipotence. ft J.. -- :n j . t w . my render win onuersiana wny 1 snrinic in terror from the thunder. 1 Even the consciousness of security is no relief to me my fear has assum ed the nature of an instinct, and seems indeed 1 part of my existence. . " IP lie ' LOVE. W sat and sigh'd And look'd upon ach other, and coneeivM Not what w sil'd ; yet something we did ail ; And yet were well ; mad yet w wr not well; And what was our disease w could not Ull ; Then would w kiss, then igb, than look : And thus In that irst garden of our simpleness Ws spent our childhood : Hut when years began To reap th fruit of knowledge ; ah, how then Would ahe with gravel look, with sweat stern brow, Check my presumption and forwardness ! Yet still would giv me flow'r ; still would she show What sb would hav me, yet not have me know. Dattiett RpmtnM ftriumpk. The Temper and the Tongue, HARSHNESS Of SPEECH. i "Giv m tho heart that fain would hid J Would fain another' fault tflar; . How can It pleasure human prid, '' .. To prove humanity but bats 1 Tiol let na reach a higher mood, A nobler estimate of man ; Be earnest in the search for geod. And speak of all the best ws can." We sometime since ventured to offer a word of reproof in relation to the habit of speaking harsh ly,- hastily, or without due reflection. The evil is so common, and is often attended with such evi consequences, that we will be excused, for refer ring to it again. It may be said to form one of the most serious annoyances of social (ins Aftd( when a. family or a circle is troubled with an indi vidual who is afflicted with the infirmity alluded to, who is in the habit, either from rashness, thoughtlessness or bitterness of disposition, of ma king unkind, unfeeling or violent remarks, the vice-at times becomes almost insufferable. Hearts are wounded, the sensitive are excited and stung, old griefs are revived, frailties are subjected to an improper scrutiny, and thus pain is caused in va rious ways. Indiviuals have no right, even under the plea of frankness and candour to make use f harsh and irritating language to allude to sub jects of a delicate or unpleasant nature, to revive the recollection of errors repented, or even to reproach in a bitter and vindictive spirit, the exhi bition of existing frailties. Some persons too are in the habit of getting into an undue excitement, on public and private questions, and while in this state, of denouncing the objects of theia passion with a decree of malevolence and rancor so strong, as to be quite painful to tbe listner. - A friend informs us that a catc of this kind occurred in an omnibus. The vehicle was well crowded with ladies and gentleness, when a somewhat ex citing subject became the theme of conversation between two of the latter. They talked coolly enough for a little while, but soon the temper of one vf the parties, was roused, his language be came stronger, his manner, voice, and the expres sion of his countenance, tliangud wnh his words, and he poured fourth a torrent of invective so bit ter and burningr4hat4hetber-passengers - were 1 nol only astonished but sadly annoyed and all turned upon each other looks of congratulation, when the hot tempered individual pulled the string that checked tho' vehicle, and took his de- pnrWre , His manner was most unpleasant. (The same sentiments might have been expressed with far more emphasis and effect, in a calmer, milder, and yet in a suflicie.it decided spirit. St the impression made was, that'the fcxcfcable one possessed a very unhappy and lyramcai tem per, and that the less the lovers of peace; quiet and courtesy had to do yithijhuri the better,. But there iff another ;;deECription of rasliness of apeechthaMeserves ty be.'oticed and rebuked. A gentleman iniorms ua mat a year or jwo igo o attended quite a brilliant party in ): neighboripgj city. In the course orihe evening - he .was con versing'wilh a friend, whent' a somewhat flippant acquaintance came up, and pointing to a lady on the opposite sid of the room exclalnieJ m a half whisper, but sufficiently loud to bt heard by the three " Who istlMrttrightlul ugly lemale talking b..M rs. i"'--' :; ' " h ; 7'. ;' That,' replied the interrogated, nt once pain ed, niortwd and contused,' is the wife of my friend Mr. 13.' and he immediately bowed to'the srentlemno, wkh whom he had been tonversing. Forturiarely.'Wr. B. was a man of good sense and manageable temper, and wus; thus able' -"to appreciate- irisolence and puppyism at their true value The iuipruicut and iuipertiuent yoalh jammer ed out an apology but he was 'evidently so abasb ed and overwhelmed by hrs Hhmder, that ho jcarcely; knewwhttt lie Vrtaay'lrig. The uui dent afforded him a lesson, hoHveVetfa'nd' for a ' time at least, the effect wasa1u't&ry,' The true) - doctrine in all matters" of con vers (ttidt), is beaViS fully expressed by a clever .poet f 'the present I : 4 "Nay, apeak no ill a kindly world wan never leave a aUng bobtDd, . ': . . ' j And, oh ! to breath each Ule w'v beard, Is farbepeeth fe noble mind j . . FuUaft so wh 41, - Far if hut lillU knxul ' StiU letitfpbaa fcs bet we ca . , This rule isplaihaad imple. v f we cannot peak 1 well and .favorably , of an acquaiotanca or friend, let us remain silent ! : If we cannot say s something calculated o Cheer; gladden and de- v light, let Jm at least not pursue) a contrary course. Our duty u to lifford as much " pleasure, and to -produce aa much good as wa can, To. the world, and if our means with relerence to these subjeiti be limited, we should a! least endeavor to restrain tbe evil propensitiet of our nature, to enrb and "fcdrifYcJ! the demons of candai, jealously, ill-wil ' and all unchantableness. .: We all have iofirmitiei and failings enough. ' We all teqaire the exercise of generosity and fdrbeBTance.i'Our imperfectionf, although invisible to ourselvesrmay be quite gla'r ing to others. Wben, therefore, r indulsak spirit of generous and charitable forbearance '. relation to the errors,' of the, rest of the world1, wo in some degree at least entitle ourselves to a aim " ilar judgment with referenca to our own. Hoih- ing is everf-1os; by kindnea and charity. No " heart is pained no sensibility k wouoded, bv- wounds of courtesy, benevolence and rood breed- ' ing while a rash wer4 tioleit' expressioa, a "hasty or an u nhs ppy remark, may inflict a keen pang may catrse a Wound that will fester and rankle lor years. ' "Tbeft speak hb ill but lonient bv if, To other' fkiUngs a ypr own 1 y Iftou're the first fault to sao, . . . Be nOt the first to mak it knew. - Forlilibuta paMin;dky'. . .. . No lip may tell how brief iu span j Tbsnohj the liule tint w stay, ' lt' speak of all th best wseari. ' Philadelphia Enquirer. Old Backelorsv ' : We have often thought of writiojr a charter tt pon old bachelors, setting forth their inhumaaitr. their unnaturaloess. tbe counties bring upon themselves and pointing out the onlr true method by which theV can redeem tbm-- selvea Trom the charee of sJilsh JO wwe swwaaas useful members of society. Wo belie vo the ma jority of them merit our pity rather thai our hat red. If they are, as we fear,' rnore Conceited, cross, crabbed, and cr usty, than the test of their specie, it i because tbe very peculiarity of their T condition makes them t to ; and if. they clings - f withpitable tenacity to their lorely lot, it is be- cause they have Ml a tealiamg sense of its wretch edness, and have neVer 'dreamed of the Joys o connubial life. Let us, then, look on them with compassion for, as an eloquent writer1 tbuchingly say :-ln the vast flower field of human affee tion, the old hachelor is ihe cry-scarecrow of happiness, who drives away the old birds of lore that come to steal hemlock "seeds of loneliness and despair." Where is there a more pitiable ob jeettthe world than a man who has no amiable woman interested in bis wrlfarej llow dismal does bis desolate room appear when he goes home at night, wet and hungry aai finds a cold hearth or barren table, and a lonely' pillow, .'and , looks like the while urn of every earthly enjoyment I See the sick' oil bachelor in the afternoon of life, when his heart is sinking to sundown.' Not a solitary star bf memory gleams over the dusk of his opening grave no tender wife to bend like a f blessing over his dying bed no fond daughter to " draw his chill hand into the soft presure of herai and Warm bis icy blood with tbe vivifying fires of unfailing 'antioiH'noinanly .Wjr to link r hla name with, the golden chain of honorable posteri- ty ttnd bind hi bwtory jtilt berasryolurmeijfTh W world he is leaving forever, ' He has eaten and drunken and died, and earth is glad to be rid of him, for he has done little else but cramp his soul into the circumference of a sixpence, and too hu- man one but' h washer-woman w)il breathe sigh at his funerai.---cf(jriu Cirri Album, ( How to Cook a Husband. 5 We hove lateiyen af recipo in an English pas pet, contributed b jf ojits - Mary,' which poinu out the hiodus operandi of prepariiig and cooking a husband. ( Mary jtates that aood many' bus . bands are spoiled in Cooking.!- rSinp i vohieo g;d t about it as if ihei? brda were bladderf,'iod :blow them tip. OtEersiteep jheiu ' constantly.. ,In hot . water, while, oilier, again freeze them, by ccdju gal C6ldnesl. . Some ffmother thetn Ifl the hottest beds of contention and veriarfci', and . some" keep them in pick le all their lives.. Theie women ' 41 Vay servo them up in sauce. - No it cannot " be supposed, thai husbands will be' lender and good managed in iliiVwuy, but they .arrvbn the ' contrary, Vjuite delicious wfevnpremed. -: Mary. . poinu out Iter mdnner tftt art.. etitei ,A the jar of cheerfulness,- (which by, the. byj all hands have at hand, Being" placed in iU set him neaf -the fire el conjugal fowl tet the firo ; be pretty hot; but especially let It ' be Cleaf. ; A bove all, the heaf rtiust bu regular and constant-. f , . Cotter bid "brer 'witfi iquant'trei 'df anVtion(. iinii. f ... t ,
The Greensboro Patriot (Greensboro, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
July 18, 1846, edition 1
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