1 . -.. ! ' V . ; . . j, . i '
: - j . ' i l , , r - t ' "h ( j
; - . . . ; j ; I i
VOLU ire iv.
NFAVBERN", N. C, 5
DECEMBER 29, VJ82J.
NUMBER 197;
7
JATURDAY.
r
Minted ano publiihcd wekly, Jit
PASTEUR t WATSON, v,
i .if .ff.inrp
At
$
Q nor nnmim iiciii
Fro a late European Publication.
TII FORGERS.
it Let us sit down on this stone seat,"
saiJ my fn'h llie Por, " and
will lell "i file of tears, concerning t!u-
,st inhabitantH of yonder soIiWry hou. e,
viH visible on the hil!-side;"through the
cl-Kitn of those, melancholy pines. Ten
yrs hve uasserl away since the terrible
catastrophe of wdicli I am about to Seak :
anJ I know not how it is, but methinks,
whenever I come into thin' glen, there is
sjajethin? rueful in its silence, while the
coTino n sounds of nature seem to my mind
dire-like and fotlorn. Wa not t'lis very
dav bright and musical as we walked
3CMi all the other hills and valleys ; but
n,n ;i dim mist overspreads the sky, and,
i.4tiif:il as this lonely place must in truth
be thert is a want of life in the verdure
ai.4 ;lie fiVvcrs, as if tliey grew beneath
the darkness of perpetual shadows."
As the old man was speaking, a female
fiiuie, bent with sge and infirmity, came
lowlv up the bank below us, with a pitch
. . i f i i" i i
er i ner tiann, anu wnen sue reacntu u
little wll, da Out of a liw rock all cov
cre l with moss and lichens, she seemed
to lith'r yes upon it as in a dream, and
gave lon, deep, broken sij;h.
" Tii mines of her husband and her
onlv son, both dead, are chisseled by
tli?ir own hands on a smooth stone with
in the arch of that fountain, am thechiSd
k uidow at this moment sees nothing
cn th? lace of the earth but a few letters
pot vet overgrown with the creeping
tiuietins. See I her pale lips are moving
in praver, and, old as she is, and long re
iind to her utter hopelessness, the rears
are not yet all shed or dried up within her
br.-ken heart, a few big drops are on her
jkithered cheeks, but-she feels them not,
ami is unconsciously weeping with eyes
:b.tt old age has of itself enough bedim-
The fiure remained motionless beside
the well ; and, though I knew not the his
tory of ths sriefs rhat sfood all embodied
so mourn ful y before me. I 'felt that they
rust h ive been gathering tOetner for
ruiuv lonj years, and that such sihs as
I ha.l ito'.v heard came from the uttermost
desolation of the human heart. At last
$!ie dipped her pitcher in the water, lifted
her eves to heaven, and, distinctly saying,
M) Jesus, Son of God whose blood was
saed fr sinners, be merciu! to their
souls!" she turned away from the scene
cf her sorrow, and, like one seen in a vi
sion, disappeared.
bippy,'' said the pastor, " even her who j
5 at alone, with none to comfort her, on a j
floor swept by the hand of death of nil its I
blossoms, ttut her whom we have "now
seen I dare not call happy, even jliough ,
she put her trust in (iod and her Saviour. I
Hers ii an alHietion which faith itself can- j
not assuage. Yet religion mav have !
softened evensighs like those, nnd, as you j
shall hear, it whs religion that s. her free
Iron the horrid dreams of madness, and
teMored her to that comfort which is al
VHvsfoimd in the possession of a reason
soul." s
There was not a bee roaming near us,
uor u bird sinin in the solitary glen,;
hen the old man gave meihese hints of
a melancho'.y ta!e. T he sky "was black ,
si 1 lowering, as it lay on the distant hilli,
and enclosed us from the far-off or id, in '
a vji.en spot that was Ct!t to be sacred
ur.t i v.i row The figurVW.icN had come
1 itiM was the onlv du-Ilor I i . ...i
I was prepared to hear a doleful 1
- m' - - - mm. m I V rt I VI
Iiisterv
uti niunc n V'Nii lii'.iue v. H'l a
uro
-cii iuait in the clieerless so'.itudi;
of na
' That house, from whose chimnies no
"aAe has ascended for ten long Years,"'
tii.-ieu my tiiend, once simwed
ns
"' as bright with cheerful hie
and
"Twhotj- we now saw so wrt-be. oe, I
rt'" ' n.'ier brought home a youthful bride.
j; 1 the beauty of her joy and innocence!
Vi.:y years leheld her a wife and a
13 '?". with all their most perfect bap-ir-m.
m. with some, too,'of their incvi-
griefs. eaih passed not bv her
- r vux .x, I . r r 1 . j
V!liont nis victims, uud, ot fivechil-'
f": H oe died, i..ii.:ci-, child-
J T HI I A
natures common decay, -peace ltd
rj; "eitf sHi .1 jrouiid the bed of eace;
uhen t-re tlowefs gtew upon their
i "oiuci s eves couiu pear n
u. i i
tiiem, as sne pas d n unli
if - iieU ,!,:! he:t,r Wad it btt,
0iie never been born.
r, and son, novy come,
to man's estate, survived
there was peace. Out suddenly poverty
' Y7 . " "
fell upon them. The dishonesty of a
m m , r
kinsman, of which f ileed not state the
particulars, robbed them of their few he
reditary fields, which now passed into the
possession of a stranger They, howe
ver, remained as tenants in the house,
which had been their own ; and for a
w;hile, father and son bore the change of
fortune seemingly undismayed, and toiled
as common labourers'' on the ,soil still
dearly beloved,, 'a At the dawn of light
they went out together, nnd at twilight
they returned. But" it seemed .is if their
industry was in vain. Year after year
the old man's face became more deeply
furrowed, and more seldom was he seen
to smile ; and his son's countenance, once
bbld and open, was now darkened with
aiiEier and dissatisfaction. They did'not
attend public worship so regularly as they
used to do; when 1 met. them in the fields,
or visited them ffi their dwelling, they
looked on me coldly, and with altered
eyes; anjl I grieved to think hoiv soon
they both seemed to h ive forgotten the
blessings Providence had so long permit
ted them to enjoy a d how sullenly they
now struggled with i:s decrees. But some
thing worse than poverty was now dis
tiirbing both their hearts. -
t
Thp unhappy old man had a brother 1
who at this time died, leaving an onlv son, !
who had for many years abandoned his j
father's house, and of whom all tidings
had been lost. Jt was thoujht by 'man' ;
r liar he had died beyond seas; and none
doubted, 'that, living or dead, he fiad been
disinherited by his stern and Unrelenting '
parent. On the day after the fufnerel, the
old man produced his brother's will, by
which he became heir to ail Ms property,
except an annuity to be' paid to the hahi
ral heir, should he evr return. Some
pitied the prodjaTsonVwho had been dis- .
inherited some olamed the father some ;
envied the good fortune .f (hose who had ;
so ill borne adversity. But in a short j
time, the death, the will, and the disinhe- f
rited were all forgotten, and the lost lands
bdng redeemed, peace, comfort and hap
piness were supposed again to be restored
to the dwelling from which thev had so
lonir
been banished.
" But it was npt so. If the furrows on
the old man's face were deep before,
when he had to toil from morning to night,
tliey seemed to have sunk into more,
ghastly trenches, now that the goodness of
Providence had restored a gentle shelter :
.i . , . I. . ii . , , :
dennr through his fields at eventide, he
. , . .i n . i
iooked not hkt the Patriarch musing trao-
, , , . , i
quiity on the works and ways of God ; and
n i J . .
when mv eves met his during umne ser- ;
i" iiu uiiiiMii" ttoi ji ? iir.ii C3tii it (iii- .
vice, which he npw
Hgiiiu attended with j
scrupulous regularit', I 'sometimes thought
they were suddenly averted in conscious
guilt ; or closed in hypocritical devotion.
I scarcely know it I had any suspicions
against Kim in mv mind or not ; but h-s
high bald head, ihin silver hair, and coun
tenance with its fine features so ii.telii
gent, hi.d no longer the same solemn ex
pvession which they once possessed, and
something dark ai.d hidden seemed now
tc belong to them, which withstood Ids
forced nnd unnatural smile. The son,
who in the days of their former prosperi
ty had been stained by no vice, and who.
during their harder lost, had kept himself
aipof from all ins lonner companions,
now became dissolute and profligate, nor
did be niett with ary reprooT ironj a fa
thir whose heart woiiid oiice have burst
asunder at one i.ct of wickedness in his
btlo ed child.
About three years after the death of
his father, the disinherited son returned
'. tti j his native parish. He h.d been i sf.i
! lor on board various ships on foieign s;a
! tiqns but hearing Hy chance ot his fa
ther's dtr.th. he came to claim his inheii
tatice. Having' heard on his arrival, that
hi? uncle had succeeded to the proper.'.,
he cime to me -and told me. that
. nijjht'befoie he left hi. home, his father
stood by his bed-side, kissed him, and
s said, that never moie would he own such
an undutiful son but that he forgait
him all his sins at death would not de
fiaud him if the pleasant fields that had
so' Ion,' belonged io his humble ancestor
; -and hoped to meet reconciled in hea
!en. ' My uncle is a villain,' said he.
1 fiercelv, and 1 will cast anchor on the
. green bank where I played when a boy
" x 7 . ',ar V;-
v'n if I must first bring his grey head to
.,' . f 6 J
'. . , ,
hi$ uncle. It was dreadful visit. The
family had just sat down lo -their
frugal mid-day meal; and the oIdian,
though for some years" foe could have had
little heart to pray, had just lifted up his
hand to ask a blessing. Our shadows, as
vj -..tered the door, fell upon the table
d Mming his eves, he beheld before
. u F ather, motile
fjilly hoped had been fcuried In the sea.
unlike prayer; but he still hId uo his lean
i " v.; . v- " .
m W " .
shrivelled, tiembhng hand. 4 Accursed
hypocrite,' cried thedierce mariner, 'dost
thou call dmvn the blessing of God on a
meaJ won basely from the. orphan?! "But,
lo ! God, whom . thou hast blasphemed,
has sent me from the distant isles of the
ocean, to bring thy white' head into the !
hangman s tands . u
" For a moment all was silent then
a loud stifled gasping was heard, and she
whom you saw a little while Wo, -rose
shrieking t.,o;n her seat, and fell down on
her km-es at the sailor's feet. , The terror
of that t.n'UrJven crrtne, now first reveali
ed to her Kijowlerfge. struck her down to
the n6r. biie fixe I ler bloodless lace
his before whom she UiHt but 'she spoke
not a single . voi d. There was a sound in
her convulsed throat like the deatfi-ratile.
I forged the will,' said the son, advan
cing towards his cousin with a. firm step;
my father could not T alone am guilty
I alone must die.' " The wife soon recov
ered the power of speech, but it was so
uniike her hOsuaf-voice, that I scarcely
thought, at first, the sound proceeded
from her white, quivering lips. As vou
hoe for mercy at the great judgment day,
let the old man. make his escape husit,
hush, hush-ptill m a few days he has sail-
ed away in the hold of some ship to Ame-
rica. rou surely wilj not h'iny; an old
gray-headed man of threescore and ten
years V
The sailor stood silent and frowning.
There seemed neither pity hoi 'cruelty in
his face; he felt himself injured; and
looked resolved to right himself, happen
what would. 4 I say he has forged my
father's :u ill.. As to escaping, le' him es
cape if he can. J do not wish to hang
him; thougrTi have seen better men run
up to the fore-yard arm before now, for
only askingj their own. But no moie
kneeling, woman. Holla ! where is the
old man gone ?'
" We all looked ghaslily around, and
the wretched wife jind moiher, springing
to hrr feet, rushed out of the house. We
followed, ope and all. The door of the
stable was open, and the mother and son
entering, loud shrieks were heard. The.
miserable ojd man had slunk out of the
room unobserved during the passion that
had struck . all our souls, and endeavored
to commit suicide. His own son cut him
down, as heihung suspended rom a rafter
in that squajid place, and carrvjng him in
t
his'hirms, laid him down upon the green
i i j-.1 i. mi 1
oauK in irontoitue nouse. inerenetay
. , , . ,. . , t , 4 J
with his livid face, and blood-shot, protru-
, . . 7 .. . . r . .
ded eves, till, in a lew minutes, he raisad
",e 7 7 , - , . 7 ,. .f
himself up, and fixed them upon his wife,
, ' 7 : . .
wim itrcovei oiii .110111 rt laioiiii" ut.
came shrieking from the mire in which
i she had fallen down. 4 Poor people' said
I the sador with a gasping voice, you
! have siaTere'd enough for
your crime.
J-ear nothing: the worst is now past:
and rather ould I sail the seas twenty
years longer, than add another pang to
that old mah's. heart. Let us be kind to
the eld man.' ...
" But it seemed as if a raven had croak
ed the direfui secret all the remotest pla
res among "the hills; ffor, in an hour,
people came flocking in from all quarters,
and it was seen, that concealment or. es
cape was no longer possible, and that
lather and son weiedesiined to die togeth
er a felon's death.7
1 1 ere the pastor's voice ceased ; and I
had heard enough tqiniderstand the long
deep sigh' that had Tome moaning from
that bowed-down figure beskle the solita
ry well. " That was the last work done
b the father and son, and finished the
day before the fatal discovery of their
uuilt. It had probably been engaged in
a. a sort of amusement lo beguile their un
happy minds' of ever anxious thoughts,
oi pci haps 3rs a solitary occupation, -..at
which they -could unburthen their.guilt to
oito another undisturbed. Here, no doubt.
ir; the siltneeand solitude, they often felt
remorse, perhaps penitence. 'J heyxhis
elied out their caroes on that slab, as you
pticcive ; nd hither, as duly as the
morning and evening sliadows, comes the
2bist whomlwe beheld, and, after a prayer
for the souls of them so tenderly loved in
iheir innocence, 'and doubtless even more
tenderly belpved in their guilt and in their
graves, 'she carries to her lonely hut the
water that helps to preserve her hopeless
life, from tlie well dug by dearest hands,
now mouldered away, both flesh and bone,
i'ito the dust."
A fter a inoment's silence the old man
continued, for he saw that I longed to
hear the details of that dreadful catastro
phe, and hi? own soul seemed likewise
desirous of renewing its grief,: " The
prisoners were condemned. Hope there
vas none. It was known, from the mo
ment of thejverdict guilty, that they
would be ejeciited. Petitions were, in-
dee signed by many, many thousands;
, ! ,UC7,1,U luiauier nu
4he son had I to prepare themselves foe
fle;, !
About a week after condemnation, I
visited them in thejr ceil. Oodlorbid,
I should SAV that thev n,nre rior.rl 1
Human nature could not resign, itself to
such a doom ; and I found the old man
pacing up and , down the stone-floor, in
his clanking chains, with hurried steps,
and aLcoumeiianceofunspeakabIe horror.
The son was lying on his face upon his
'bed uf straw, and had not lifted uo his
head, as the massybolts wtic withdrawn
and. the door creaked sullenly on its hin
ges. 7 he father fixed his tyes upon me
for some time, as if I tiadben a strang
er intruding upon his misery ; and as
soon as he knew me, shut them, with a
dee) groan, and pointed Jo his son.- I
i:ave murden d William I have brouglit
any only son to ; he,, scafiold, and , I am
deomtd to heii j i gently called on the
youth by namt?, but he was insensible
he was lying in a fit, 4 I fear he will a
wake out of tiiat fn,' cried the old man,
with a broken vmce. T hey have come
upon hin every day since our Condemn a
t. on, "ana sometimes during the night. -Ii
is not fear 'for himself that biings them
on for my boy ihough guilty is brave
tint he continues looking on my face for
hours, till at last he seems to lose allj
sense, and fnlis down in strong convul
sions, often upon the stone-floor, till he
is all covered with blood.' T he old man
then went up to mVson, knelt down, and
putting, aside the thick clustering hair
from his foiehead, continued kissing him
for some minutes, with deep sots, but
eyes dry as dust.
k But why should I recall to my re
membrance, or describe to you, eyery
hour of anguish that I witnessed in that
cell. Forseve.. I weeks it was all agony
and despair the 'bible lay unheeded be
fore their ghastly eyes aod for them
there was no consolation. The old man's
joul was filled with but one thought4 that
he had deluded his son into sin, death,
and eternal punishment. He never slept;
but visions, terrible; as those of sleep
seemed often to 'pass before him, ill j
have seen the gray hairs bristle horribly
over his temples, and big drops of sweat
-il.il " . t '
plasn down upon tnenoor. J sometimes
thought, that they would both die before
the day of execution ; but their mortal
sorrows, though they sadly changed both
face and frame, seemed at last to give a
horrible energy to ;:e. and every morin
ing fhat I visited them, tley were strong
er, and more broadly awake in the chill
silence of their lonesome prison-house.
"1 know not how a deep change was
wrought upon their souls, but two days
before that of execution, on euleiingtheir
cell, I found them sitting calm and com
posed by each'uthei's side, with the Bi
ble open before them. Their faces, tho'
pale and haggard, had lost that glare of
misery, mat so long uad shone about
their restless and wandering eyes, and
they looked like men recovering from a
long and painful sickness. I almost tho-T
I saw something like a faint smile of
hope; God has been merciful unto us,'
said the fauher, with a calm voice. ' I
must not think that he' has - forgiven my
sins, but he has enabled me lo look upon
my dear son's face to kiss him to told
him in my arms to' pray for him to fall
asleep with him in my bosom, aa I used
Often to do in the days of his boyhood,
when during the heat of mid-day . 1 rested
from labor below the tres of my own
faun. We have found resignation at last,
and are prepared to die.' 1 '
""There was no transports of deluded
enthusiasm in the souls of these unhappy
men. They had never doubted the truth
if revealed religion, although they had
fatally disregarded its precepts; and now
that remorse had. given way ;o penitence,
and nalure'had become reconciled to the
thought of inevitable death, the light that
had been darkened, but never extinguish
ed in their hearts, rose up anew; and
knowing that their souls were immortal,
they humbly put ''then faith in the mercy
of their Creator and their Redeemer.
" It was during that resigned and se
rene hour, that the old man ventured to
ask for the mother of his poor unhappy
boy. 1 told him the truth calmly, and
calmly he heard it all. On the day of
his condemnation, she had been deprived
of her reason, and, in the house of a kind
friend, whose name he blessed, now re
mained in merciful ignorance of all that
had befallen, Moving herself, indeed, to
be a motherless widow, but one who had
long ago lost her husband, and all her
children, ine ordinary course of na
ture. At this recital bis soul was satisfi-
ed. The son said notmng out wepwong
and bitterly. 4. I
"The day of execution came at last.
The creat city lay still as on the morning
t...kUiik lan 4 sit wtlnrtf
business of life seemed! by oneJcOnsent
ii!- .uie mariv thousand hearts beatinff
. there, to r suspended.,. But as the boors
? ancei, the frequent tread of ftet wag
heard in every avenue ' the streets' Be'
gan to fill with pale, anxious and impa-
I lient facpQ
to the dials on the steeples, watching ll(i'o
silent pi ogress of the finger of timVj till it
should reach the point at vyKich :he cur
tain was to be drawn up from before A most,
mournful tragedy.
f n i .
The hour was faintly heard through thi
thick prison walls by us, who were to
gether for the last time in the conderiiued
cell. I liad administered to them the most ;,
awful rite of our religion, and -uher and
son sat together as silent as death. The
door of the dungeon Opened, and several
pefsons came in. One of them,,1 who
had a shrivelled bloodless face, and small
red gray ees, an old man, feeble and
tottering, but cruel in his decreptiude,
laid hold cf the son with his palsied fin
gers, and began to pinion his arms with
a Cord. No resistance was ofiered ; butt
straight an) untrembling, stood that tall
and beautiful youth while the fiend boun'ij..
him i lor execution. At this mournful
sight, how could I bear to look on his fa
ther's face ? Yet thither were mine eyea
impelled by the agony that afficted my
comfniseraf ing soul. During that hide
ous gaze, he was insensible'cf the execu
tioner's approach towards himself ; and
alljthetime that tHe cords were encir
cling his own arms, he. felt them not, ho
said nothing but his son standing at last
before him, ready for the scafiold. ,
f I darkly recollect a long dark vaulted
passage, and the echoing tred. of foot- .
steps, till at once we stood; in a crowded"
hall, with a thousand eyes fixed on these
two miserable men. How uidikewece
they to all beside i They sat down to
gether within the shadow ofdealhi Prayers j
were said, and a psalm was sungiu which
their voices were heard to join,with tones
that wrung out-tears froih the hardest or
the most careless heart Often had I :,
heartt-those voices singing in " my own
peaceful church, before evil had disturb
edi or misery broken them ; but the last
word of the psalm was sung, and the hour
of their-departure was come.
! " They stood; at last upon the scaffold.
That long. street, that seemed to stretcU
away interminably from the old Prison
house, was paved with uncovered headsj
for the moment these ghosts appeared,
that mighty crowd felt reverence lor hu
man nature so terribly tried, 'and prayers ,
and blessings, passionately ejaculated, oc
convulsively stifled, werit hovering over ,
all the multitude, as if they feared some; .
great calamity to themselves, and felt
standing on the first tremor of an cardi-
quake. "
6t It was amost'beautiful summer's day
on which they were laid out to die; and f
as the old man raised hi eye?, for the
last tiiw, to the sky, the .cloud lay mo
tionless on thar blue irmslucent arch,
and the sun shone joyoudy over the mag- .
n ficent heavens. It s raed a day made
for happines or for merry. But no par
don dt opt down from these smiling skies, ."
&the vast multitude were not to be dent ,
ed the troubled feast of death. Many who
now stood there wished they had been in,
the heart of some fa r-ofl". wood or glenj;
there was shrieking and fainting, -not on
ly among maids and wives, and matrons,
who had come ther? in the misery of their,
hearts but menell down in their stiengtU
for: it was an overwhelming thing to be
hold a father and his only son now hal
tered for a shameful death. Is my fa
ther with me on the sea fluid ? give roe
his hand, for I see him not.7 j i joined
their, hands together, and at that moment
the great bell in the Cathedral tolled,
but I am convinced neither of them heard '
the sound. -For a moment there seemed
to be ho such thing as sound in the worlds
and then all at once the multitude heaved
like the; sea, and uttered a . wild yelling
shriek. Their souls were in eternity,
and I fear not to say, not an eternity ot
grief." ' " 1
NOTICE.
nnHE Subscriber informs the Tnhabi j
JL tants of Newbern and its vicinity,
that he has taken the House next doo,
above Mrs. Anthony's, ori Pollock-Streett
where he is carrying oii tle
TAILORING BUSINESS,
He flatters himself that his proficiency,
strict "attention, and MODfeRATE charuks.
will ensure him a liberal patronage.
J VOL1 Ifl. I I
Newbero, Nor. 24, 1821192
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