: CAROLINA' CEOTTOEIL ' .
NEWBERN, N. C, SATURDAY AUGUST JO, 1822.
NUMBER 229.
V0LU3IE V.
AND PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY
PASTEUR.-WATSON,
' V1f in advance.
At $3 per annum-naif in advance. .
MISCELLANY.
MOSS-SIDE.
Lights and Shadows.of Scot-
tish Life" j , f.
from
'Gilbert Ainslie was a poor man :
and had been a poor man all the days
of hi life, which were not few, for
h!5 thin hair was now waxing grey,
jjc had beeivborn and bred on the
sru'l niooreland farm which he now
nrruuied : and he hoped to die there,
as his father and grandfather , had
done before him, leaving a family just
above the more bitter wants of i this
or!d. Labour, hard and j unremit
ting had been his lot in life ; but al
ihoVh sometimes severely .tried,' he
bad never repined ; and through all
the mist and .'gloom, and even the
norms that had assailed jhim, he
ri lived on from year to year in that
cthn and resigned contentment which
a-iconsciously cheers the hearthstone
of the blameless poor. With his own
buds he had ploughed, sowed and j
ted, as 'hey grew up, by three sons,
who, even in boyhood were liappy to
work along with their father in the
fields. ut of doors or in, Gilbert
Ainslie was never idle. The spade,
the shears, the plough-shaft, thesicklel
a 1 d the flail, all came readily to hands
tint grasped them well ; and not a
j cursel of food was eaten under his
r of, or a garment worn there, that
w : not honestly, severely, nobly earn
t , Gilbert Ainslie was a slave, but
i Tas for them he loved with a sober
aid deep affection. The thraldom
under which he, lived God had impo
sed,' and it only served to give his
character a shade of silent jgiavity,
I but not austere ; to make his smiles
f.-ivfr, but more heartfelt ; to calm his
SjijI at grace before and after meals ;
'(I to kindle it in the morning and
'evening prayer.1
I There is no need to fell the charac
ter of the wift of such a man.. Meek
'and thoughtful, yet gladsome and gay
jffi'hal, her heaven was in her; house ;
'and her gefifleahd weaker hands help
'eJ to bar the door against want. Of
Jten children that had been born to
them, l hey had lost three ; and as they
hid fed, clothed and educated them
e;tcubly, so did they giyp them
jwiio died a respectable funeral. The
living did not grudge to give up, for
a while, some of their daily comforts,
I for the sake of the dead ; and bought,
jviih the Title sums, which their, indus
trv had saved' decent mournings,
jo.n on Sabbath, and then carefully
laid bv. Of the seven that survived.
" , :
tw.'sons were farm-servants in the
..VhboihooJ, while three daughters
3 )l two sons remained at home, crow-
IN?, or grown up, a small, happy,
ihjr;! workm" honseluild.
y cottages are there in Sc(5t-
j.m 1 like Moss-side, and many such
kumoiti ana. virtuous cottagers as were
.0 v beneath its roof of straw., The
e of the passing traveller may mark
p'ro, or marK them nor, hut they
pt-snd peAcetullyj in thousands overall
f'l land ; and moil beautiful do they
?nake it .through all its wide valleys
fcit 1 narrow glens, its low holms en-
cncled bv the rK:kv wall r.f
U unv burn, its gieen mounts elated
f uh their little1; crowning groves of
f-ne-trees, its yellow cora fields i-
Vu.ue pasiorat tujJMdes, andjall its
Ik
auny nu.ors, on whose black bosom
shim; or concealed glades W ex
Mve verdure, inhabitedby fl'owers,
Jj'd visited only by far flying bees.
j"-s:de was not beautiful to a care
or hasty eye; but 'when looked
" nd surveyed, it seemed a pleasant
"Hlmg. Its itlof overgrown with
, w&? almost as green
B'otmd out of which its wea-
walls ai)teared to ' prow.
Q)tNS behind
it was separated
in
e garden,' hv a narrow siin
r,rUv land, i)e dark colour. of
!r" ihowed that it had been won
J1 the ild by patient industry
1, b patient industry .retained
l rfled a bright ;unnv rjav to
CI :?M-Side : fair ; Jt tiie'n it
L, 'd'r indeed ; and when the lit-
t ( niiHrlahd Dirds werej sii2-
i?r'sJlorl Mnes amig the! ruwt
L;,.fp,hftK oralark, pfrhaps
t .er oy so.ne u re en barely
."undimbed nest, rose sing
44 over the . enlivened ioliiude,
the little bleak farm smiled like the
ndrarfice of novertv. sad and affecting
in its lone and extreme simplicity;
The boys and girls had i made some
P'ois oi nowers amuug mc
F. fof.
plots of flowers among the vegetaoies
- . ... . ,. . t-
homely meals ; pinks and carnations,
brought from walled gardens of rich
men iartner down in ine cuiuvaieu
strath, grew here with somewhat- di
minished lustre; a bright show of tu
lips had a strange beauty in the midst
of that moor-land ; and thej smell of
roses mixed well with that of the clo
ver, the beautiful fair clover that loves
the. soil and the air of Scotland, and
gives the rich and balmy milk to the
poor man's lips.
In this cottage Gilbert's youngest
child, a girl about nine years of age,
had been lying for a week in a fever.
It was now Saturday Evening, and the
ninth day of the disease, j VVas she to
live or die ? It seemed at if a very
few hours were between the innocent
cieature and Eleaven. Ajl.the symp
toms were those of approaching death.
The parents knew well the change
that comes over the human face, whe
ther it be in infancy, youth,' or prime,
just before the departure of thesphit ;
and as they stood by Margaret s bed,
jt seemed to them that the fatal sha
dow had fallen upon her features. The
surgeon of the parish lived '.some miles
distant, but they expected him now
every moment, and many a wistful
look' was directed by tearful eyes a
Jong the moor. The daughter, who
was out at service, came anxiously
iome on this night, the only one that
could be allowed her, for the poor
must work in their grief, and their
servants must do their duty to those
whose bread they eat, even when na
ture is sick, sick at hear!.1 Another
of the daughters came in from the
potatoe field beyond the brae, with
what was to be their frugal supper-
The calm noiseless spirit of life was
in and around the house, while death
seemed dealing with one who, a few
days ago was like light
upon
the
floor, and the sound pf music, that al
ways breathed up when most wanted;
glad and joyous in common talk,
sweet, silvery, and mournful, when it
joined in hymn or psalm, j One after
the other, they all continued going up
to the bed-side, and then Coming a?
way sobbing or silent, to' see their
merry little sister, who used to keep
dancing all day like a butterfly in a
meadow-field, or like a butter rly with
shut wings on a flower, trifling for a
while in the silence of her joyi now
tossing restlessly on her jbed, and
scarcely sensible to ther words of en
dearment, whispered around her, or
the kisses dropt with tears, in spite of
themselves, 0:1 her burning"! forehead.
Utter poverty often kills the affec
tions; but a deep, consta'ntj and com
mon feeling of this world's hardships,
and an equal participation in all those
struggles by which they may be sof
tened, unite husband and wife, pa
rents and children, brothers and sis
ters, in thoughtful and subdued ten
derness, making them happy indeed
while the circle round the fire is un
broken, and vet preparing them every
diy to bear the separation, when some
one or other is taken slowly or sudden
ly away. Their souls are not moved
by fits and starts, although, indeed,
nature sometimes will. wrestle with
necessity ; and there is a wise modera
tion both in the joy and the grief of
the intelligent poor, which keeps las
ting trouble away from their earthly
lot, and prepares them silently and
unconsciously for Heaven. I
" Do you think the child is dying!"
said Gilbert with a calm voice to the
surgeon, who on his wearied horse
had just arrived from another, sick
bed, over the misty range of hills ;
and had been looking steadfastly for
some minutes on the little patient.
The humane man knew the family
well, in the midst of whom he was
standing, and replied, While there
is lite there is hope ; but. my pretty
litleMargaret is, I fear, in the last ex
tremity. ' There was no loud lamen
tations at these words a'- had before
known, though they would hot con
fess it to themselves, what they now
were told and though the certainly
that was hi the words of the skilful
man .made their hearts beat for a little
with sicker throbbings, made their
Dale faces naler. and hrmmlit' our fmm
some eves a greater. &nsh of tears, vet I
' ; fc"- i
death had been t
before in -this house '.
'and in this case he came; as heal wavs
does, in awe, but not in terror. There
were wandering and wavering and
delirious i,hiii'sW i tJ.e fhram of-
the innocent culu 5 but the few words
. she indistinctly uttered were affecting,
. not rending to the heart, for it was
piam mai sne inougni nerseri neruing . iv nai is xnair ; . saru iucwu v
her sheep in the green silent pastures, his eldest daughter: ' What is that
jahd sitting j wrapt in her plaid upon you are laying on the shelf?" She
the lown and sunny side of the Birk- could scarcely reply that it was a rib
knowe. " .She was too much exhaos-, band and an ivory comb that she had
ted there was too little breath in
her Heart, to frame a
tune hut
some of her? words seemed , to be
from favourite old songs ; and at last
her mother wept, and turned, aside
her face,? when the child, whose blue
eyes were shut, and her lips -'almost
still, breathed out these lines of the
beautiful twenty third psalm : .!
The Lord's my ShepherdjFlI not want,
lie makes me down to lie
In pastures green: he leadeth me I
The quiet waters by.
The child was now left with none
but her mother by the bed side, for it
was said tOj be-best so ; - and Gilbert
and his family! sat down round the
kitchen fit e,! for a while in silence.
In about a quarter of an hour, they
began'to nse calmly, and to go each
to ,; his allotted j work. One of the.
daughters went forth with the pail to
milk the tow, and another began to
set: out the table in the middle of the
floor for supper i covering it with a
white cloth. Gilbert viewed the usu
al household arrangements with a so
lemn and untroubled eye ; and there
was almost the faint light of a grateful
smile on his cheek, as he said to the
worthy surgeon, " You will partake
of our fare after your day's Jtravel and
toil of humanity.'' ' In a short silenj
half hour, the potatoes, oat cakes, but
ter and milk i were on the board ; and
Gilbert, lifting up his toil hardened,
but manly hand, with a slow motion
at which the room was hushed as if it
had been empty, closed his eyes in
reverence, and aske.d a blessing j
There was a little stool, on which no
one sat, by the old man's side, ft
had been put there unwittingly, when
the other seats were all placed in their
usual order ; but the golden head thai:
was wont to rie at that part of the ta
ble! was now wanting. There was
silence not. a word was said their
meal was before then God had
bee thanked and they began to eat. 1
While they were at their silent meal
a horseman came galloping to the
door, and with a loud voice, called
out that he had been sent express with
a leuer 10 oiiDerr mnsue ; ai me
sanie time rudely, and with an oafh,
demanding a dram for his trouble.;
The eldest son, a lad of eighteeny
fiercely seized the bridle of his horse,'
and! turned his head fiom the door.;
The rider, somewhat alarmed, at the
flushed face of the powerful stripling,
threw down the letter, and rode off.
Gilber took the letter from his sori's
hand, casting, at the same time, a
hail; upbraiding look on his face, that
was-returning to" its former colour.
" I jreared",-;--:saidl the youth with a tear
in his pye " I feared that the brute's
voice, and. the trampling of the horse's
feet j would have disturbed her."- Gil
bert held tiie letter hesitatingly 1 in his
hand, as if afraid, at that moment, to
read it ; at lengih, he said aloud to the
surgeon, "'You know that I am a poor
man, and debt, if justly incurred, and
punctually paid when due, is .no dis
honour'' Doth his, hand and his
. 1 -a . . ;i i .... . . i- . - .1
voice shook slightly as he spoke ; but
he opened the letter from the lawyer,
andjread it in silence. At this mo
ment his wife came from her . child's
bed !side, andl looking at her husband,
toJddiim "not to mind about the mo
neyj that no man, vho knew him,
would arrest his goods, or put him in
to prison. Though, deur ine it is
cruel to be put to it thus, wlifn our
bairti is dying, and when, if-so it be
the Lord's will, she should have a de
ce.ntjburial, poor innocent, like them
that j went before her." Gilbert con
tinued reading the letter' with a face
on which no emotion could be discov
ered; and then, folding it up, he gave
it tojhis wife, told her she might read
it. if ishe chose, and then put it into
his desk in the room, beside the poor
dearj bairn. She look it from him,
without reading it, crushed it into her
bosom ; for she turned her e3r toward
her ihild, ana thinking she heard it
stir, fan out hastily to its bedside.
' Another hour of, trial past and the
child was still swimming for its life. r-
Theyery dogs knew there was grief in
. 1 i: . . . 1 U... 'I... .
ine nouse, aim lucy wjr uuuui Mir-
TingJ as 11 mumg u
Ting, as if biding themselves, below
? tl,e hmg' table at ,lhe window. Une
'sister sat with an unfinished gown on
her knees that she had been sewing
for tlie dear child, am! still continued
al the hopeless work, she scaicely 1
knew why ; and often often
up her hand ; to wipei away
putting
a tear.
brought for little Margaret, against the
night of. the dancingschool ball.f
And, at these words, the father could
not restrain a long, deep," and bitter
groan ; at which the uoy, nearest in
a?e
to h
is
dying sister, looKeu up
weeping in his face, and lettuig the
j.- O I
tattered book of old ballads, which he
had been poring, but not reading, fall
out of his hands, he rose Irom Ids
seat; and, going-into his father's bo
som kissed him, and asked 'God to
bles him, for the holy heart of the
boy was moved within him ; and the
old man, as! he embraced him j felt
that, in his innocence and simplicity,
he w.as indeed) a comforter. " The
Lord givethj and the! Lord taketh a
way," said the ohl man, blessed be
the name of the'Lord." - j
The outer-door gently opened, and
he, whose presence had in former
years brought peace and resignation
hither, when their , hearts hid been
tried, even as they now were tried,
stood before them. On the night (be
fore the Sabbat!i, the minister of Aucli
indown never left his Manse, except,
as now, to visit the sick or dying bed.
Scarcely could Gilbert reply; to j ht
first questionj aboiitf his chld, whep
the surgeon came from the bed-room.
and said, 4 iIargaret seems
lifted j up
and the
i 1 1
by God's hand above death
grave: I think she will
recover.
She has fallen asleep: and. when she
wakes, I hope- I believe that the dan
ger will be past and that your child
will live.". ' I;. ., .-.';X : .: ,
They were all prepared for death
dui now mey were tound unprepared
One wept that had tjll iheniloW,y btd' but wth waning hi her'
. !i . . . . . 1 eves, memorv in her mind. nfTertimi ;
rcr ine.
locked
up all her tears -within her
heart; another gave a short palpita
ting shriek; and the tender-heafred
Isabej, who had nursed the child when
it was a baby, jainted away; The
youngest brot lie-gave wayJVo glad
some smiles ; and, calling out his dog
Hector, who used to sport with fioi
and his little sister on the moor, he told
the tidings to the dumb irratitihal
crtature.. whose eyes, it is Certain,
sparkled with a sort of joy. The
clock, for some pays," had been pre
vented from striking the hours; but
the ilent finger pointed to the hour
of nine ; and that; in the cottage of
Gilberr: ; Ainslie, was the stated hour
of family worship. His own honoured-minister
took the book ; ;
He waled a portion with judiclods
' ' caref ,-'.')'; J J-'i! 1 -i-
And let usworship God, he, said, with
. Solemn air.
A chapter was read a prayer 'said ;
and so, too; was sung a jsalm ; but it
was sung low and with suppressed
voices : lest the child's saving sleep
might be broken : and now and tl en
the female voiced trembled, or so ne
of them ceased altogether , , for tb re
had been tribulation and anguish ; and
now hope and faith were tried in the
joy oiihanksgiving.j' v ';
The child still slept ; and its sit ep
seemed more sound and deep. . It up
peared almost certain that the crisis;
was over, and that the flower was not.
to fade. " Children," said Gilbert,
" our happiness is in the love webar
to one another; and our duty isjin su6
mitting to and serving God. GrHciojus,
indeed, has he been unto us, js not
the recovery of our little darling, dan
cing, singing Margaret, worth all the
gold that was ever mined ? Jf Wei
had had thousands of thousands,
would we not have filled up hej- grave
with the worthless dross of " gold, ' '.ra
ther than she should have cone down
there with her sweet faccariti all her
rosy smiles." . There was no reply
but a joyful sobbing all over the room.
" Never mind J the letter, j nor ;h'e
debt, father," said the eldest daughter.
" ne "have all somef little "things of
our own a few pounds and we shall
be able to raise as much as will keep
afrrest. and prison at a distance! Or
if they do take our furniture out of the
house; ail except Margaret's bed, who
cares ?.; We will sleep on the. floor ;
and there are potatoes in the field,
and clear water jjin tie spring. ' ; We
need (or nothing, ! wj tit not hint! ; bles
sed be God for all his mercies.'i'
Gilbert went into J the sick
room.
and trot the letter from his .wifi
, 1 who)
was sitting at the head of the bed,
watching, with a heart "olessed beyond
all bliss, the calm a,4d regular breath
ings pf her child.
This letter saiit
he mildly, " is not from a hard credf
tor. Come with me while I read it
aloud to our children." The letter
was? read aloud, and it was well fitted
to diffuse pleasure and sat isfactiori
through the dwelling of poverty. It
was from an executor to the will of a
distant relative, who had left Gilbert
Ainslie 1500. " The sum,", said
Gilbert, is a large one to folkjf libs
us, but hot, I hope, large' enough ta
turn our heads or make us think our
selves all lords and ladies.' It will do
more, far more, than put me fairly a
bove the World at last. I believe that, '
with it, I may buy this very farm oil
which my , forefathers have toiled.' '
But God, whose providence has sen t
this temporal blessing, may he send
us wisdom and prudence how to useft
it, and humble and grateful hearts to
us all." 't
" You will be able to send roe to
school all the vear round now, fa
ther,'vsaid the youngest boy. And
yoii may leave the flail to your son
now, father," said the eldest. Yod
may hold the plough still, Tor you
draw a straighter furrow than any of
us ; but hard work for young sinews ;
and you may sit now oftener in your
arm chair bv the ingle. ' You will not
need to rise now lin the dark, cold-
arid snowy winter mornings, and keep,;
threshing corn in the . barn for houm
by candle light, before the late dawnV'
ing." f.,': ' ", r : '
There was silence, gladness, sojr
row, and but little sleep in Moss-side,
between the rising and setting of . tho J
stars, that were now out in thousands,
clear, bright and sparkling over tho ' ,
unclouded sky. Those who had lain
down for an hour or two in bed could' '
scarcely be said to have slept; and
when about morning little Margaret
awoke, an altered creature," pale, Ian-
guid, and unable to turn herself on her
eyes, memory in her mind, affection
in her heart, and coolness in all her
veins, a happy groupe were watching
the first faint smile that broke over
her feaiures ; and never did one who
stood there forget that Sabbath mor
ning on which she seemed to look
round upon them all with a gazeWof
fair and sweet bewilderment, like bnv
half conscious of having been rescued
from the power of the grave. . '
; FOREIGN. ! '-
:' : ii ip.
LATEST FROM EUROPE.
Naw-York, July 29.
The packet ship Nestor, Captaia ,
Macy, arrived on ' aturday . evening
from Liverpool, whence she sailed on .
the l6th June. We have received
papers of that place to the 14th,' Lon
don papers to the evening of the lSlh,
and Lloyd's LUts to the 12th uif. '
It is said that all expectations of '
war between Russia and Turkey have
terminated. The King of France; in
a message to the Peers, on the IC.ih of
June, states, 4 that it isilh the most
sincere pleasure that he informs iUfg
Chamber, that he has received news,
since the opening of the session, which .
announces that veuce trill not be dig
Curbed in the East ; and 'that he feels
a lively satisfaction in imparting tho
knowledge of Uiis fact,
f The West India Trade, and the
Colonial Trade Oi lis pusstd the House
of Commons on the 7th. They had
been read in the House of Lord?, and
were ordered to. be read a teqjnd '
time on the 17 th of June. . - J ;
1," At a splendid levee, held , by the
King of England cn tlie 12th, Air.
Washington Irving. was presented by !
the American Ambassador, : h !
p ' The last accounts from Ireland are .'
more and nore deplorable. At Clare,
fifty persons were ill of fever. Inhthe
western part of Gal way , men, women
and children, dying of starvation, arid
the mortality o great that every oner
;Whqcould was flying as from a ptiigue!',
Sligo was similarly circumstanced. 4 V
In Cork county, a typhus fever, of a
most malignant kind, had already ap
peared. In -Mayo, the ' deaths from'
starvation were increasing. In short,
a greater part ot the west and soufh of
Ireland presented the shocking and '.
appalling spectacle of a dense popu- " 1
lattoh in a state of famine, and upon
the brink of a pestilence. We rep' at, .
says tlie last Dublin paper, ' that a
million of men, women, andchlhiien.
;are starving -are actually dyin f
hunger ; and in one of the finest va
st n's ever remembered, a malignant
fever, with, every, appearance of th
worst symptoms of pestilence, has set
io.'v ' ' ! ' ''"
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