Newspapers / Roanoke Republican (Halifax, N.C.) / Sept. 2, 1830, edition 1 / Page 1
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VOL. II.-NO. "Vi. HALIFAX, N. C. SEPTEMBER 2, 1830. WHOLE NO. 7 O. EDITED BY j j . EDM. B. FREEMAN, AND PRINTED BT J JOHN CAMPBELL, JOINT PUBLISHERS AND PROPRII TORS. The Advocate will be printed every Thursday morning at $2 50; per annum,, in advance, or $3 if payment is not ma ie within 3 months. : j No paper to be discontinued until all ar rearages are paid, unless at the option of the Editor; and a failure to noti y a dis continuance will be considered i s a new engagement. j Advertisements, making one ?quare or less, inserted 'three times for Ore Dollar, and twenty-five cents for every subsequent insertion, longer ones in proport ion. All advertisements will be continnrd unless otherwise ordered, and each continuance' ! charged: ' From the New Yorkl Amultt BY J. G. WIIITTIER. HENRY ST. CLAIR Henrv t. Clair! HovV at the mention of that nameJ a thousand dreams of friendship and youth and of the early and beautiful associations! round us, to be called into view only by the magical influence of memory, are .awakened! How does th : glance of retrospection go back to the dim images of the past from the childish merriment to the manly rivalsnip from the banquet-hall and the pleasant fes tival, down to the silent and u ibroken solitude of the Tomb.. . j . We were as brothers in childhood St. Clair and myself, brothrrs too in the dawning of manhood; an ! a more ingenuous and high-minded, fpend I never knew.' : ' Yet he was , s rangely proud -not' of the world's j gifts- wealth, family and learning- but of Ins intellectual powerof the great gift of mind which he posses: ed: the ardent and lofty spirit which s lone out in his every action. And he might well be proud of such gifts. I never knew a finpr mind. It was a: the em bodied spirit of poetry itself the beautiful home of high and glorious aspirations. j j Henry St. Clair was never at heart i christian! He .never enjoyed the visitations of that flure and blessed in finpnrp. which comes into tt e silence - . . , - (. .( and lonelines of the human Uosom, to build up anew the broken altars of its faith, and revive the drooping flowers of its desolated atTections. He loved the works ofthe;Great love of an enthusiast. God with the Bud beyond the visible and vutward forms the passinc: magnificence of the heavens the beauty and grandeur of ti earth, and the illimitable world oftj waters, his vision never extended. His spirit never overlooked the cloudK which surrounded it to catch a glimpse of the better and more beautiful lain I ' 1 need not tell - thej story of my iiriend's young years. It ha nothing to distinguish it from a thousand oth crs; rit is the brief and sunuv biogra phy of one upon whose pathway the sunshine of happiness rested, unshad owed by a passing cloud. ' We were happy in our friendship, but the time of manhood came; and we were parted by our different interests, ar d" by the opposite tendency of circumstances pe culiar to each other. ' j It was a night of Autumn a cold and starless evening I ren ember it with painful distinctness, ilthnugh year after year has mingled with Eter aity, that I had occasion to pass in my way homeward, through one of the darkest and loneliest 'alleys of my native city. Anxious to reach my dwelling, I was hurrying eag erly for ward, when I felt myself Sudden ly seized by the arm; and a voice, close in, ray ear vs hispered hoarsely "Stop or you ar : a dead man !" I turned suddenly. 1 I h ?ard the cocking of a pistol, and saw by a faint gleam from a neighboring win dow, the tall figure of a, rr an one hand grasping my left arm, he other holding a weapon at my bres st. I know not what prompted me to re sistance; I was totally) unarmed, and ahocether unacquainted -villi the struggle of mortal jeopardy.' But I J 1 1 . i . r uiu resist ana, one instant i saw my assailant in the posture bed, the next, he was I ha disarmed and writhing beneath me. It seemed as if j an infant s strength could have subdu ed him. - . I "Wretch!" I exclaimed, as I held his own pistol to his bosom, " wh?tis your object? Are you a common mid night robber -or bear you ought of private malice towards Roger All ston?" : j j : f . ' Allstbn! Roger Allston!' repea ted the wretch beneath me, in a voice which sounded like, a shriekj as he struggled half upright even against the threatning pistol. ' Great God! has it come to this? ; Hell has no pang like this meeting! Shoot!?' -he ex claimed, and there was a dreadful earnestness in his manner, which sent the hot blood of indignation cold and ice-like upon my heart. " Shoot you were once ray friend in mercy kill me A horrible suspicion flashed over my mind. 1 felt a sudden sickness at my heart and the pistol fell from my hand. Whoever you may be," I said,' " and whatever may ! have been your motive in attacking me, 1 would not stain my hands with your blood. Go and repent of your crimes." " You do not know me," said the robber, as with some difficulty he re gained his feet, " even you have for gotten me. ! Even you refuse the only mercy which man can now render me the mercy of death-of utter annihi lation!" Actuated by a sudden and half-defined" "impulse, I caught hold of the stranger's arm, and hurried him to wards the light of a streetlamp. It fell full upon his ghastly and death like features, and on his attenuated form, and his ragged apparel. Breath less and eagerly I gazed upon him, until he trembled beneath the scruti ny. I pressed my hand against my brow, for I felt my brain whirl like the coming on of delirum. I could not be mistaken. The guilty wretch be fore me was the friend of my youth one whose memory ; I had cherished as the holiest legacy of the past. It was Henry St. Clair. Yes it was St. Clair! but how changed, since last we had communion with each oth ther! where was the look of intelli gence, and the visible seat of intellect the beauty of person and mind! Gone and gone forever to give place to thf !m thsOmeness of a depra ved and br: A appetite- to the vile tokens of a lN- :. ;fmg sensuality, and the deformity; of disease. 44 Well raav voti shudder," said St. Clair, " I am fit only for the compan ionship of demons; but you cannot long be enroll by my presence. I have not tas;ed food for many days; hunger drove tne to attempt vour rob bery but, I fee! that I j am a dying man. No human power can save me, and if there be a God. f?ven He can not save me from inyclf from the undying horrors of remorse." ' Shocked by his words and still more by the increasing ghastliness of his countenance, I led the wretched man to my dwelling, and, after conveying him to bed, and administering a cor dial to his fevered lips; I ordered a physician to be called. But it was too late; the hand of death, was upon him. He motioned me to his bed side after the physician had. departed; he strove to speak, but the words died upon b"s lips. He then drew from his bosom a sealed letter addressed to my self. It was his last effort. He star ted half upright in his bed uttered one groan of horror and mortal suffer ing; and sunk back, still and ghastly, upon his pillow. He was dead. I followed the remains of my unhap py friend to the narrow place appoint ed for all the living the damp and cold church-yard. I breathed to no one the secret of his name and his guilt. I left it to slumber with him. I now referred to the paper which had been handed me by the dying man. With a trembling hand I broke the seal of the env elope, and read the following, addressed to myself: "If this letter ever reaches you, do not seek to find its unhappy writer. He is beyond the reach of your noble generosity a guilty and dying man. I do not seek for life, j There is no hope for my future existence, and death dark, and terrible, and myste- rious as it may seem, is less to be drea-j ded than the awfu realities with which f 1 am surrounded, " 1 have little strength to tell vou ! the story of my fall. - Let me be briefJ You know how we parted from each ' other. You know the lofty hopes and the towering feelings of ambition,': which urged me from' your society; from the enjovment of that friendship, ; trie memory ot which has ever since, lingered like an upbraidintr spirit at my side. . I arrived at my place of: destination; and aided by the intro-'' ductory epistles o mv fripnris. nnd tHi influence of mv familv I waslat once ! received into the first and most fash- ! lonaoie circles ol the city. 11 1 never possessed those principles ol virtue and moral dignity,' the effect w hich has been soj conspicuous in your; own character. Amidst the flatteries and attentions of those around me,! and in the exciting pursuit of pleasure, the kindly voice of admonition was un- heard; and I became the gayest of the gay a leader in every scene offash ionable disipation. The principles! of my newj companions were thse of infidelity, and; I jembraced them with my w hole soul. . You know my former. disposition to doubt -that doubt was now changed into a settled unbelief, and a bitter hatred towards all which I had once been taught to believe sacred and holy, j " Yet amidst the baleful principles which I had imbibed one honoura ble feeling still lingered in my bosom,1 like a beautiful angel jn the compan- ionship of demons. There was one! being a young and lovely creature-,; at whose shrine all the deep affections! of my heart were'poured out in the sin-' cerity of early love. She was indeed a beautiful girl -a being to bow down to and worship- pure and high thoughted as the sainted ones of Para dise, but confiding and artless as a child. J She possessed every advantage; of outward beauty but it was not that which -gathered 1 about her, as with a spell,' the hearts pf all who knew her It was the light of her beautiful mind which lent the deep : witching of soul to her fine countenance flashing in her dark eye, , and playing like sun- shine on her lip,! and crossing her fair forehead with an intellectual halo, j " Allston! I I look back to thai Springtime of Love even at this awfu crisis in my destiny, with a strange feeling of joy. It is the only green spot in the wilderness of the past an oasis in the desert of being. She lov-! ed me, Allston and a heart more pre- cious than the gems of the East, was given up to1 a wretch . unworthy of it3 slightest regard. " Hitherto pride rather than princi ple had kept me above the lowest de-j gradation of sensual indulgence. But for one fatal error I might have been united to the lovely being of my affec tions; and, oh! if sinless purity and persuasive love could have had power over a mind darkenejljand perverted as my own I might have been re--claimed from the pathway of ruin r I might have been happy. j But that fatal error came and came too, in the abhorrent shape of oathsome Drunkenness. I shall ne ver in time or eternity, forget that scene; it is engraven on 'my memory in letters of fire. It comes up before me like a terrible dream; but it is a dream of reality. It dashed from my lips the cup of happiness, and fixed forever the dark aspect of my destiny. " I had oeen very gay, for there were happy spirits around me; and I had drank'fireely and fearlessly for the Sj first time. There is something norn ble in the first sensations of drunken ness. For relief I drank still deeper and I was a drunkard I was deli- rou T was haDDV. I left the mebn- ated assembly, and directed my steps, I - not to mv lodgings, but to the home me of her, whom I loved nay adored above all others. Judge of her surprise and consternation when I entered with a flushed countenance and an unsteady tread! She was reading to her aged parents, when with an idiot's grimace I approached her, he started from her seat- one glance told me the fatal truth; and she shrunk from me aye, from me, to whom her vows were plighted and her young affection givT en with fear, with loathing, and un disguised abhorrence. Irritated at her conduct, I approached her rudely; ; liancl snatched from her-hand the book j she had been reading. I; cast it into the flames which ro$e brightly from the hearth. It wasj the volume which you call sacred. ( saw the smoke of its consuming gojupward like a Sacrifice t the Demon! jof Intemperance, and there even there by that Chris- jtian hreside, lj cursed the oook and . its Author! j " 1 he scene; winch followed beg- gars description. The shriek of roy betrothed her sinkincr down in a state of insensibilitv the tears of ma-' ternal anguish the horror depicted ; on the countenance of the bid man H all these throne even now confusedly ! I over my er my memory. I statrcered to the! do9 and had fecofintoxication; and reason began to assume its empire. The full, round moon, was upjin the heavens; and the stars, how fair, how passing beautiful they shone dow-n at that hour! I had loved to look upon the stars; those bright and blessed evidences of a holy and all pervading intelligence; but that night their grandeur and their ex ceeding purity came like a curse to my weary vision. I could have seen those beautiful lights extinguished; and the dark night-cloud sweeping o ver the fair face of the sky, and have smiled with grim satisfaction, tor the change would i have been1 in ' unison with my feelings. " Allston! have visited, in that which mocks at conso tearless- agony lation, the grave of my betrothed. She died of a broken heart. . From that moment, all is dark, and hateful, and loathesome, in my history. I am now reduced ! to poverty I am bow ing to disease!, I am without a friend. I have no longec the means of subsis tence; and starvation may yet antici pate the fatal, termination of the dis ease which is preying upon me." . Such was the tale of the Once gifted and noble St.piair. Let the awful lesson it teaches sink deep in the hearts of the youncri and ardent of spirit. I Let them remember that " infidelity and Intemperance go hand in hand; and that those; who have once yielded themselves toj the fascination of vice, are hurried onward, as by an irresisti ble impulse, in. the pathway of auin; al- tnougn conscious oi their danger, and knowing 'hat the gulf of utter dark ness is w idening and deepening before them. ! To make good Beer. Pour I l-2 pints ofMoIasses, and two-thirds of a tea cup of Ginger into a clean water pail, then fill it up with boiling water; to this add 1-2 pint yeast, and let it stand one night or about 8 hours in a cool place; then turn it into a keg or bottle it, and it will be fit for use.' I i ' : The drunkard's Soliloquy. A. Fragment. Having passed by the inn, I observed some one at a short distance, beneath a lofty; button-wood, apparently holding a dialogue with himself I drew near, unobserved, and heard the following: Who am?Ii Aye, and what am I, but a wretched out-cast, shunned by the wise and the good? My estate wasted; constitution destroyed; affairs in ruin; friends absconded; children naked and hungry; wife in tears and comfortless; J appetite, none; visage bloated and disgusting; hands and ) Knees ircmuiuub, reason oeuastru, anu manners becdme vile; character anni hilated! ! My acquaintances pass by I - i. JI t. 1 me like strangers! ' I am 1 tormented by j disease, harrasied by law. suits; teased j by creditors; collared by sheriffs; moc ked and hunted by truants and black- b ... .-it- y 1 guards! 1 am la nateo, nuny sot, com- pinion only tope ioci uruic; ay, the vile brute is exalted, is noble com pared to a wretch like me! In all that d honorable, resnectable and worthy in ocejty, I am a mere cinder j of a crucible; the very paltry dregs of an alembic! Cursed intemperance, these are thy fruits!, Oppressed na- ture can hold out no longer! She is r about to resign: her worthless charge j The horrid grave opens upon me and i vawns for its! prey! Despai ts! nrev! Despair! Des- r. The reception I had met with, - ine plale government; are opprt ea the excitement therehv produced, ; bX heavy tariff and other enormous obviated in some measure the ef- i measures of the General Goeinmcnt. I i pair seiies me '-My brain is oa fireUhnd id Away, then, let me hasten and sinkf unremembered, down, down, down, to . . ! Father, Oh, father,!" cx- claimed a sudden and wild voice. The knife fell to the ground! a rapped. though: lovely boy rushed into his em- braces y mouth Memorial. rom t he Oxford Examiner. ARMERS ARITHMETIC." PROFITS OF AGUICULTtkE. ' the great Franklin had ever liv- ed in tn e countrv, his observing eye wou d have noticed, and his disc riin- t i i inatmg judgment have solved the lol- lou,jnC difficult problems: farmers are more imposed on than any other class of the community; thP1 Pa' yearly the whole e.j.. ue of and bv the commercial resru! lions of foreign nations; never have much mo- ne-et every industrioU prudent larir ' 'ni cent er prow s rich ! J ; The mechanic "receive i.a t: s or a -dollar a d.v. et f s poor the farmer e;.rn his . t vU a day, and pr- rich .' Merchants, PliNSicians, 1 av and others, receive tlu ir ihou- cent . 3 yers shands per annum and die poor, while the Farmer scarcely receives as many tens ye How duced ? lies rich ! ' are these strange results pro All calculators in dollars and cents fail to account tor it. Thost w ho are determined to bring "every. -thing to the standard of dollars and c r.ts, pronounce agriculture to be wholly unprofitable, when the fact that near ly all the wealth of the country has been obtained by agriculture stares them in the face. In the opinion of these calculators acriculture is the proper pursuit of such only as have not sense enough to pursue any thing else ! ?; . . ;-;:: . . The mischiefs which such calcula tors are doing in our country, first induced me to call the public attention to Ihe l Farmer's .Arithmetic. But having been more accustomed to hand ling: the plough than the pen, I am altogether unable to do justice to the subject. If some abler hand would takej it up, dispel the mist now resting on tjle subject and shew jus clearly the ivhole truth of the matter, it would do sufficient good to compensate the labors of the ablestpatrioU When the mechanic lays down hid tools; and the professional man is -idle, they are sinking, because their cxpeii ses re going on and their profits are suspended. Not so the farmer; while he sleeps, his crops grow and his stock continues to increase, and wheii he spends a social evening witrr his neighbor, every thing continues to ad vancje. The( Partner's Wlrithmetic shews that the farmer grows rich by saving, j while others contin ue poor by spending. Others have first to mak money and then cive it lor meat drink, and raiment, the farmer obj tains all these at home. If he wantj a fatr lamb or pig he has it without loosing a day or two in trying to buy one. j If he wants a new coat, the in dusfry of his wife supplies it. jlnt shortt, he wants but' few, very few things which cannot be obtained onj his own farm. Why then should thct farmer repine because he has not the money to buy abroad ? Or measure his wealth by comparing his money with that of others, who mast give it all, for. things he has without buying fj Surely a farmer may without a sigh ' ! J . ' 1 l ! f - f resicrti to others the craudv fabrics of foreign artists, .while he is clothed by th labor of the hand that sooths his cared and strews w ith pleasure his journey through life. When I see a journey through AT l rmer appear in company genteelly essed in homespun, 1 'think of Solo dressed in liomespui i mon's description of a good wife, her husband is knowr? m th gates when he sitteth among the elders,' and most cordially do I congratulate the pos sessor of such a prize. - JACK PLANTER. Spir tt& Formerly it rras a maxim' tUtt vntinrr nnman ihrnlrl nrif trrt m.r - A , fhc had soun herself a set of bo- jy aD taUe linen. From this custom all unmarried women were termed spinster an appellation tbev still retain in Eng- ppell all deeds aod legal procecdiflf. . i 1 ' I
Roanoke Republican (Halifax, N.C.)
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Sept. 2, 1830, edition 1
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