North Carolina Newspapers

    Ti c Mcse! whalc'cr the Muse inspires,
Mv soul the tuneful strain admires....sro r-r.
Softly the moonlight
Is shed on the lake,
fwi ; summer niht
Wake ! O awake !
iVmtk the curlew
Is heard from afar,
List ye ! O list
To the lively guitar
Trees cast a mellow shade
Over the vale,
Sweetly the serenade
Ilrcathes in the gale,
Softly and tenderly
Over the lake,
Gailv and cheerilv
AVake ! O awake !
See the light pinnace,
Draws nigh to the shore,
Swiftly it glides
At the heave of the oar ;
Cheerily plays
On its buoyant car,
Nearer and nearer
rIhe lively guitar.
Now the wind rises
And ruffles the pine,
Hippies foam-crested
Like diamonds shine,
They flash where the waters
The white pebhles lave,
In the wake of the moon,
As it crosses the wave.
Bounding from billow
To billow, the boat
Like a wild swan is seen
On the waters to float ;
And the light dipping oars
Bear it smoothly along
In time to the air
Of the gondolier's song.
And high on the stern
Stands the young and the brave,
As love-led he crosses
The star spangled wave,
And blends with the murmur
Of water and grove
The tones of the nihr,
That are sacred to love.
His gold-hilted sword
At his bright belt is hung,
His mantle of silk
On his shoulder is flung,
And high waves the feather;
That dances and plays
On his cap where the buckle
And rosary blaze.
The maid from her lattice
Looks down on the lake,
To see the foam sparkle,
The bright billow break,
And to hear in his boat,
Where lie shines like a star,
Her lover so tenderly
Touch his guitar.
She opens her lattice,
And sits in the glow
Of the moon-light and star-light,
A statue of snow ;
And she sings in a voice
That is broken with sighs,
And she darts on her lover
The light of her eyes.
His love-speaking pantonine
Tells her his soul
How wild in that sunny clime
Hearts and eyes roll.
She waves with her white hand
Her white fazzolet,
And her burning thoughts flash
From her eyes' living jet.
The moonlight is hid
In a vapour of snow !
Her voice and his rebeck
Alternately flow ;
lie-echoed they swell
From the rock on the hill;
They sing their farewell,
And the music is still.
Variety's the very spice of life,
That gives it all its i!avor.
Description of the Natural Bridge in Virginia,
extracted from the Christian Herald.
" On a lovely morning toward the
close of spring, I found myself in a
very beautiful part of the Great Valley
of Virginia, Spurred on by impa
tience, 1 beheld the sun rising in splen
dour and changing the blue tints on
the tops of the lofty Allegany moun
tains into streaks of purest gold, and
nature seemed to smile in the fresh
ness of beauty. A ride of about 15
miles, and a pleasant woodland ramble
of about two, brought myself and com
panion to the great Natural Bridge
Although I had been anxiously look
ing forward to this time, and my mind
iiad been considerably excited bv the
expectation, yet I war, net altogether
prepared for this visit. This great
"work of nature is considered by
as the second great curiosity in our
country, Ni ig.ira falls lrj'ir.g the first.
I do not expect to convey a verv cor
rect idea of this bridge, for no descrip
tion can do this.
The Natural Bridge is entirely thr
voik ot God. It is of solid limestone,
ard connects two hugh mountains to
gether by a most beautiful arch, over
i which there is a gi cat wagon road. Its j
length from one mountain to the ether
is nearly SO feet, its width about 35,
its thickness 45, and its perpendicular
iright over the water is not far from
220 feet. A few brushes grow on its
top, by which the traveller may hold
himself as he looks over. On each
side of the stream, and near the bridge,
are rocks projecting 10 or 15 feet over
the water, and from 200 to 300 from
its surface, all of limestone. The vis
iter cannot give so good a description
of this bridge as he can of his feelings
at the time. lie softly creeps out on
a shaggy projecting rock, and looking
down a chasm of from 40 to 60 feet
wide, he sees nearly 500 feet below, a
wild stream foaming and dashing
against the rocks beneath, as if terrified
at the rocks above. This stream is
called the Cedar Creek. The visiter
here sees trees under the arch, whose
height is seventy feet ; and yet to look
down upon them, they appear like small
bushes of perhaps two or three feet in
height. I saw several birds fly under
the arch, and they looked like insects.
I threw down a stone, and counted
thirty-four before it reached the water.
All hear of heights and of depths, but
they here sec what is high, and they
tremble, and feel it to be deer). 1 he
awful rocks present their everlasting
hutments, the water murmurs and
foams far below, and the two moun
tains rear their proud heads on each
side, separated by a channel of sublim
ity. Those who view the sun, the
moon, and the stars, and allow that
none but God could make them, will
here be impressed that none but an
Almighty God could build a bridge like
The view of the bridge from below,
is as pleasing as the top view is awful.
The arch from bene ith would seem to
be about two feet in thickness. Some
idea of the distance from the top to the
bottom may be formed, from the fact,
that as I stood on the bridge and my
companion beneath, neither of us could
speak with sufficient loudness to be
heard by the other. A man from ei
ther view does not appear more than
four or five inches in height.
As we stood under this beautiful
arch, we saw ih place where visiters
have often taken the pains to engrave
their names upon the rock. Here
Washington climbed up 25 feet and
carved his own name, where it still
remains. Some wishing to immortal
ize their names, have engraven them
deep and large, while others have tried
to climb up and insert them high in
this book of fame.
A few years since, a young man,
being ambitious to place his name
above all others, came very near losing
his life in the attempt. After much j
fatigue he climbed up as high as pos-!
sible, but found that the person who I
had before occupied his place was tall-
er than himself, and consequently had i
placed his name above his reach. But i
he was not thus to be discouraged. He i
opened a large jack-knife, and in the i
soft lime-stone, began to cut places for
his hands and feet. With mueh pa
tience and industry he worked his way
upwards, and succeeded in carving his
name higher than the most ambitious
had done before him. He could now
triumph, but his triumph was short,
for he was placed in such a situation
that it was impossible to descend, un
less he fell upon the ragged rocks be
neath him. There was no house near,
from whence his companions could get
assistance. He could not long remain
in that condition, and, what was worse,
his friends were too much frightened
to do any thing for his relief. They
looked upon him as already dead, ex
pecting every moment to see him pre
cipitated upon the rocks below and
dashed to pieces. Not so with him
self. He determined to ascend. Ac
cordingly he plies himself with his
knife, cutting places for his hands and
feet, and gradually ascended with in
credible labour. He exerts his every
muscle. His life was at stake, and all
the terrors of death rose before him.
He dared not to look downwards, lest
his head should become dizzy ; and
perhaps on this circumstance his life
depended. His companions stood at
the top ot the rock exhorting and en
couraging him. His strength was al
most exhr listed ; but a bare possibility
r,f ;rivinnr hie lift ctill vnmn'.na.1 ...,,1
hope, the last friend of the distressed,
j had not yet forsaken him. His course
j up wares was ratner ounqueiy than per
pendicularly. His most critical mo
ment had now arrived. He had as
cended considerably more than 2CO
feet, and had still further to rise, when
I he felt himself fast growing weak. He
thought of his friends and all his earth
ly joys, and he could not leave them.
He thought of the grave, and dared
not meet it. He now made his last
effort, and succeeded. He had cut his
way not far from 250 feet from the
water, in a course almost perpendicu
lar ; and in little less than two hours,
his anxious companions reached him a
pole from the top and drew him up.
They received him with shouts of joy ;
but he himself was completely exhaust
ed. He immediately fainted away on
reaching the spot, and it was sometime
before he could be recovered !
It was interesting to see the path up
these awful rocks, and to follow in im
agination this bold youth as he thus
saved his life. .'His name stands far
above all the rest, a monument of har
dihood, of rashness and of follv.
We staid around this seat pi gran
deur about four hours ; but from'my
own feelings I should not have suppo-
seel it over halt an hour. i here is a
little cottage near, lately built ; here
we were desired to write our names
as visiters of the bridge, in a large
book kept for the purpose. Two large
volumes were nearly filled in this man
ner already. Having immortalized
our names by enrolling them in this
book, we slowdy and silently returned
to our horses, wondering at this great
work of nature ; and we could not but
be filled with astonishment at the ama
zing power of Him, who can clothe
himself in wonder and terror, or throw
around his works a mantle of sublim
Mn. Russell, About the time of
the burning of the British government
schooner Gashee, at Newport, a few
years previous to the revolution, admi
ral Montague, (who then commanded
the ships of war in Boston,) took sev
eral of his officers in his coach and
proceeded to Newport, to make per
sonal inquiry into that affair. On his
return to Boston, not far from Ded
ham, a charcoal cart obstructed the
passage of the coach, when the coach
man, leeling much consequence, from
his exalted station, in driving a British
admiral, and knowing that his master
was to dine that dav with Mr. B. call
ed in an insolent manner to the collier
to turn out, and make way for admiral
Montague ! the coal driver (not at all
intimidated by the splendid equipage,
imposing manner and rich livery of the
knight of the whip) replied that he was
in the kings
hi eh
7 vat, and that he
should not " turn cut" for anv one but
the king himself, and thanked fortune
that he had the law to support him.
The admiral finding an altercation had
taken place, on discovering the cause,
told his coachman to get down and
give the fellow a thrashing but the
coachman did not seem disposed to
obey his commander. One of the of
ficers in the coach, a large athletic man,
alighted, reproached the coachman
with being a coward, and was proceed
ing to take vengeance of the coal dri
ver, who, perceiving so potent an ad
versary advancing, drew from his cart
a stake, to use as a weapon of d '.fence,
and placing himself before his oxen,
in an attitude of defence, he exclaim
ed "xvell, if I must, darn e ! but I'll
tarnish your laced jacket if you don't
keep off." By this time the admiral
and the other officers had left the coach,
and finding that no laurels were to be
obtained in such a contest, he made a
conciliatory proposition, and conde
scended to ask as a favcr, which he had
ordered his coachman to obtain by force.
Ah, now (said the collier) you behave
like a gentleman, as you appear, and if
you had been as civil at first, I vow I
would have driven over the btonc wall
to oblige you. But I wont he drove,
z'cvj 1 ivont. 1 he coal driver made
way, and the admiral passed on.
When he arrived at Mr. B.'s, he rela
ted the occurrence with much good hu
mor, and appeared gratified with the
spirit and independence of the man.
Mr. B. assured the admiral, that "the
collier had exhibited a true character
of the American people, and that the
story he had then related was an epit
ome of the dispute bctwen Great Bri-
ii.'iin ana her colonics. Kct the kmc
-;. of :;s cur aid, and we will groin
more than he will demnnd ; but we will
not be "drove," we will not be taxed
by parliament."
Had the government of Great Bri
tain been as conciliatory to Americans
as the honest good hearted Montague
was to the collier, we should probably
now be the subjects of George the IV !
"The ways of heaven are dark and in
tricate." We should still be servile
dependents. Wc should not have a
beautiful star spangled banner, peeping
into every port in the world, in pursuit
of enterprize and wealth. We should
not now have merchants whose capital
in trade is equal to that of a province,
and making magnificent presents in
support of literature and science that
would do honor to princes. Let A
mericans be thankful for these mercies,
and a thousand others, and study to
appreciate them.
Vain ambition exposed to merited contempt.
Sir Robert Porter, in his travels in
Persia, &c. from 1817 to 1820, relates i
an anecdote of Mirza - Shelly, ged
about 75, who is prime minister to the
King of Persia. He is a man of con
siderable talent, and being the second
person in the kingdom, i: treated by
all ranks with the utmost deference.
Though an avaricious man, he has
ability to gratify that passion and at
the same time to make sport for oth
ers. His station gives him a kind ol
reflecting consequence, that makes a
smile or a nod from him, seem to shed
honored infinitum downwards, gradu
ating dignity according to its distance
from the sovereign, the original foun
tain of favor. Among those who had
attended the minister's levees in hopes
to obtain some peculiar mark of grace,
was an individual who had no other
qualification to recommend him than
riches. Not having received the
slightest notice, he one day privately
mentioned the circumstance to the
minister, and told him if on the next
assembly of visitors his excellency
would condescend to rise a little as lie
should enter, it would afford him great
happiness it would be the height of
his ambition, as he should thenceforth
be held of consequence in the eyes of
uc khans ; and he named a considera
ble sum of money which he would give
his excellency for this honor.
It was an agreement his excellency
liked so well, he closed with the pro
posal, and the time for the solemn in
vesting dignity was arranged for the
next day. The happy man took care
not to make his appearance till the di
van of the minister was pretty well
filled. He then presented himself on
the most conspicuous part of the car
pet, big with ideas of the ever-growing
honors, of which that moment was to
make him master. He looked proud
ly round on the rest of the khans, while
Mirza ShefTy, half-raising himself from
his seat, by his knuckles, and fixing
his eyes gravely on him, to the no
small astonishment of the rest of the
company, exclaimed, 4 Is that enough:'
The man was so overcome with confu
sion, he hurried from the room : leav
ing his distinction and his money alike
with the minister ; but taking with him
the useful lesson that bought honors
are usually paid with disgrace. The
laugh for once went, without doubt of
sincerity, with the great man ; and his
smiles became of still higher value,
since it had been proved that he set
them above price.
Afessrs. Bingham Is? Jl'hzte :
I have with no small satisfaction seen,
within a few months, announced in your
useful paper, the formation of several
County Bible Societies, in this part of the
state, " auxiliary to the American Bible
Society." These societies, in my hum
ble opinion, promise, under the direction
of Divine Providence, to be rich blessings
to those counties in which they have been
established. Indeed, I cannot but hope
that their benign iufluence will be felt
far beyond the limits of our state and na
tion. The bible, let it never be forgotten,
was designed, like the glorious luminary
of heaven, by its benevolent author, to
diffuse its light over the world !
The multiplication of bibles is, to eve
ry mind not wholly void of benevolence,
a source of the most pleasing reflection.
Unlike a majestic river, which, in its pro
gress towards the ocean, is constantly re
ceiving new tributaries, the bible, in its
march towards the end of time, divides
itself into innumerable branches, and vet
remains a noble river in every respect,
; equal to the original stream, in all its
beauty- strength, and glory I Never has
the bible been owned by so many individ
uals, never has it been possessed by so
many families, never has it been transla
ted into so many languages, as at the pres
ent day. Nor, at any former period, have
its fiiends ever been so numerous, so en
lightened; so powerful, or so systematic in
their exertions to circulate this blessed
book among the destitute. Who that
wishes well to his country and the world
will not do so:ne thing to promote Bible
Societies ? Who will stand aloof and
sneer, or frown, when so many hands are
so happily employed ? And, under the
auspices of Prince Emmanuel, they are
bringing their work of mercy to a glorious
Against bible institutions it has often
been urged as a triumphant argument,
that there is no family in this part of the
country so poor, that it cannot, if disposed,
purchase a bible. The question is, not
what a poor family can do, but ivhat has i:
done, to procure a copy of the holy scrip
tures ? It has been for years destitute o
a bible. And there is a probability amount
ing almost to a certainty, that it will remain
for ijears to come without a bible, v-nles-:
supplied with one by christian benevo-
lencc. Surely no enlightened citizen, nc
intelligent christian, can for a moment
hesitate which course to pursue. It is:
not, however, recommended to give,
where there is a dispositioti to purchase.
The smallest donation, if proportioned tc
the ability of the individual, should not
be refused.
These remarks have been made with a
view of exciting the numerous readers
of the Carolinian to a punctual attendance
at the approaching meeting of the Bible
Society to which they respectively belong.
" Punctuality" has been called "the soul
of business." It is peculiarly important
at the commencement of any new Society.
A man, who cannot interest by his elo
quence, or afford a princely donation;
may, nevertheless, by his presence and
counsels do much to promote Bible Socie
"Whosoever, therefore, shall be ashamed of me
and of my words, in this adulterous and sinful
generation, of him also shall the Son of man he
ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of hi
Many and severe are the threats
which we find denounced by Christ a
gainst those who pretended an extraor
dinary sanctity in their manners and
conversation, without having any true
sense of religion or morality in their
hearts. The words before us are a
threat, likewise, against hypocrites, but
hypocrites of a very different sort ;
those w ho pretend to be more profligate
than they really are, and therefore
may properly be called hypocrites in
wickedness. These are much more
numerous in the present times, and
perhaps more mischievous than the
former ; as those do honor to religion
and virtue by their pretences to them,
these affront them by an open disavow
al. Those make others better than
themselves, v.nd these worse, by their
example. We meet with this ridicu
lous and criminal kind of hypocrisy
every day ; v.Te see men affecting to be
guilty of vices for which they have no
relish, of profligacy for which they
have not constitutions, and of crimes
which they have not courage to per
form. They lay claim to the honour
of cheating, at the time they are chea
ted, and endeavour to pass for knaves,
when, in fact, they are but fools.
These are the offenders of whom
Christ will be ashamed when he cometh
in the glory of his Father ; which will
be a dreadful but just punishment, and
a proper retaliation of that foolish and
impious modestv, which induced them
to be ashamed of him and his word,
in complaisance to a sinful and adul
terous generation ; and to be less afraid
of incurring the displeasure cf the
best of nil Beings, than the profane rid
icule of the worst of men.
If there be a pleasure on earth which
angels cannot enjoy, and which they might
almost envy man the possession of, it is
the power of relieving distress. If there
be a pain which devils might pity man for
enduring, it is the death-bed reflection
that we have possessed the power of doing
good, but that we have abused and per
verted it to purposes of ill.
Public chanties and benevolent associa
tions for the gratuitous relief of every
species of distress, are peculiar to Chris
tianity ; no other system jaf civil or re
ligious policy has originated them ; they
form its highest praise and characteristic
feature ; an order of benevolence, so dis
interested, and so exalted, looking before
and after, could no more have p.recsd-d
revelation, than light the sun.

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