aw. vis n. wir-KV,
.V, . . , . iv ( :( ) )K I'i.t
A FAMILY EWSPIPER-KEUTHAL IN POLITICS.
LYtTi-:i.n ' v, M .., ... ..K
cDotclr to ill X)t Sntmsts of tCortf) Carolina, attcattou, uwulturc, $iterature, 3tos, tije ilarfetts, &c.
VOL Ifl - NO. 4.
Ji A LEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA, SATURDAY, DEC. 24, 1853.
WHOLE NO 108
SHOULD SORROW O'ER TKY BROW.
' " A SONO, '.
Should sorrow 6t thy brow,
Iu. darkened shadow fling,
' . And -hopes, that' cheer' thee now
Die in their early spring;
Should pler.surc at its ; birth'
Fade like the tyies of even,
Turn thou away from earth, '
There's rest fur tliee in Heaven.
If ever l;fe ha!l seem,
To thee a" toiNouia w-ay,
A-'d jjladncss- cea-i' to beam
Cpon 'its clouded day:
If, like the wearied dove ,' . .
I'er idvrelessoce:ms driven,
II dsc theu'-thiue eyes above,
There's rest for thee in. Heaven.
'Hut,-- 0 ! ; if t hornless flowers
Throughput thy pathway bloom,
Ainl g'yly fleet the hours,
(In-stained by earthly gloom.
Still let not every thought
To this poor world be given,
. Nt always be f irgot
Thy better rest in Heaven.
When sickness pales thy cheek,
.And dims thy lustrous eye,
And pui'ses low and weak
Tell of a tiiiic to die;
Sweet hope. shall whisper then,
Though thou from earth be riven,
There's bliss beyond thy ken,
; There's rest for thee in Heaven.
Frtmi-. the National Magazine.
THE MOUSE AND MERCHANT.
A. hundred years ago to .us are olden times.--Kudo
times they seem, too, cotupared with those
iii which, we live. The schoolmaster, the press,
and the mechanician had not then done so much
for our people. Nevertheless, prudent and pious
men walked the, world with our great-grandfathers,
and among th-m. th:rc wn one -fc-n-jTrn to Jim cor
respondents as Mr. Francis Fairhold, merchant, of
Cheapside, in the citv of London. s
The. I'airholds had been notable in Gheapside
ever since it was called Westcheap, or the western
market. One 'representative of the family had
helped to clear St. Paul's of relies and images,;
.-'another-had fitted.. out a ship at his own expense
against the Spanish Armada ; and one served as
member for his '.borough in tho-Long Parliament.
Their house ; had been almost desolated by tiie
plague, and burneddown in the great fire of Lon
don; but it rose from its ashes with the rebuilt
city, and son had regularly succeeded sire therein
till about the vear 175-3", when George the Second
sat on the throne of England. Johnson. Burke,
and Goldsmith were then in the morning of their
fame, and Air. Francis Fairhold was reckoned a
substantial member of the honorable company of
Mr. Fairhold remembered the bursting of the
South Sea bubble, the great frost, the last Jacobite !
rebellion, and was, at the period of our story, a
discreet, middle-aged gentleman, plain of speech,
friendly -of "manner, and attired, like the- rospeeta- !
ble citizens of the day, iu amply-skirted coat, j
clubbed hair, and silver buckles: Air, -Fairhold j
was-in high respect am mg the London drapers of 1
those homely times. They kiicw Ids word to be as j
safe as his-bond, his custom to be larv. and his I
credit stiil more extensive. - j
-A prudent and prosperous man in every sense j
was our merchant erf-. ( 'heapside. Active, but n-.t !
over anxious for. thi- world, he carried on his bus- '
in ess with the steady, and quiet industry of those hold's tims. It was a species of leathern port
ld t'adiioned days, giving time for recreation - as ;an tnteau, much about the. size and shape of those
well as work. His evenings were ta-scd 'in house
hold leisure-with a citv friend or two, w!iq frequent
ly dropped in to -upper. When shop ami ware
house were closed, on S uurd iy afternoon he walk
ed with his family, to "..' tlx ir gVand-tmelo, the
'Id farmer at M.;ryteb-iie
then a village in the '
.oni.ms visits, to his j
acids, or paid m re -ceremonious
kmgbted cousin Sir Thomas .who kept his coach, '
and -iived in the fashionabl-. Iic-ilitv'- of lied U.n
Square. Once a year, when badness was slack, ;
about the end -'of .summer, Mr. Fairhold made a J
circmt of his country :istoiiier.-, to collect, debts ;
and square accounts, g- n.-iai; v. He had no son '
to succeed him iu the fashion- of his family, nor
even a nephew, having been himself an only child ; '
oui, tnanktul tor tw,, g.od .daughters; the merchant ;
..did not despair of finding .a snec.or. an,i took no ,
troublo regarding, the cwtimiance ,f his house. I
Ihe experience of other had taught him tn-it'evn I
l . . . .
paternai hopes are- iht safe frolu. disappointment. '
He had seen s
"s turn out neither a comfort nor
! 'a credit ; and the s-id : iet.re'olleC
tanging abodt !
ins own peaceful premises was that of a young and
, " : ' : V " 1 ' le o. 8;n.ot his nei.l,bor)
W i.i.Mir , nt.iiit..n tel.-. 1. . 1 !
and 1! d M ' ' " " 'w,)UVub
an- ea e . a. ame m her day. Perhaps the boy's
mot ier had spoiled him. Perhaps the love of gy
company (aa he thought it) had led h'is youth nito
nares ; tor, , Splte ot care, admonuton. and the
onler of Mr. Farhold's house, poor Willia :i
....m eji aequamteii nrst wil l stro iner p avers, then
: '- , " -
! un mora duegerous characters ; ami at length,,
a,.. , . - 51 . , ' '
uetected in an attempt to rob his master, he fled
.. . , ' ,
, tne city, and had not been heard ot for years.
P.- , .. , ..J
rieved at heart was Mr. Fairhold, and he dili -
ll ,! .. . 1 . . . I . II- . .
gently inquired after his-apprentice, in hopes, m-r-!
ciJul man as he was. of reclaiming him. No int. 1
1 ll-jerVct, however, of tlie youth could ie trained.
an nioL.iei, a wea, toi i 1 1 -mn ut'u; w omau, ai ter j
fretting for some time over di.-grace he had I
1 brought oii her genteel family, married an ill-doing J
t i i :ii :. i i ............ c , . .. I
j excise officer, whom she bad rejected with high j
I scorn im her youth, and removed w ith him to one
: -T .
of the lVrthrij counties, ,
The remembrance of poor Wiiliarn Waterton ; 'or, things were by no means in the order he had j without delay. The morning sun was shining" on
served to make Mr. Fairhold more earful. rfard- j s-fn them. The pewter n the shelves was dim ; j heath and hill, and though the road was miry with
ing fiis apprentices. Not that he had. ever been j the once white walls were dingy; there was a j the last night's raiiOlr. Frhohl felt nowise in
remiss on that point. Our merchant was an up- ! smouldering fire on the wide hearth, and by it clined to stay. The kitchen 'company bad depart
right, conscientious man, who felt that business j three slovenly, ill-looking men sat, each with a . ed over night ; but the ostler bad tlie satisfaction
had more duties f? him-than to g t rich. No one, '-pipe and tankard. The landlord himself dosed in ! of hearing the valise chink once more, besides r
under bis authority, had cause to complain of sel- bis elbow cha'r 'n the chimney corner, and no ost- j ceiving his yearly tenpenee. The landlord pfjuivd
fish exaction, or iucon-iderate carelessness. ILs
friends and family jyahifd bim for a mild "and phi
cable temper. His worldly dealings were just, 'ids
religion practical and. sincere. Nevertheless, Mr.
Francis Fairhold was not tree of fan-Its ; and among
them w as a tendency at times to grumble at small
and casual annoyances. Our merchant did not ex
actly lose his teiaper at every turn ; but a spoiled
dinner, or a room out of order,, would vex him
more than he cared to tell. Most of us, perhaps,
bear great jtroubles better than little ones in pro
portion to their weigjit ; but as the latter are by
far the niosTTibundant, that Christian philosophy
which helps one to keep easy under them has a
daily usefulness as well as dignity about, it. Sure
ly a traveller to eternity .should not bje disturbed
by every straw in his path ; moreover,! sniaii t-vIL
may contain the seeds of great good, and Francis.
Fairhold was .taught that truth by ojne of those
wonderful work's of Providence which prove to the
Christian's mind that no instrument is Weak in the
-baud 'of Omnipotence.
The wild rose had faded in Fngland's fields and
hedgerows ;' Che hav was mown in ali her meadows,
from Kent to Northumberland; and the flush of
ripeness was growing on her orchard boughs, when
Mr. Fairhold, having regulated life 'books, duly
committed his business-to Jolmstone, t&e foreman,
who bad been in his employment fifteen years, and
having taken leave of his family and j most inti
mate neighbors, set forth with a good horse and a
ieJJ-eoured vwJf, with many good' ivishes, and
commissions almost as numerous, on : his yearly
.circuit among the country customers.! This and
the stage-coach or wagon ' were the only public
'modes of travelling in the time of our story ; but
the latter, besides being a slower rnelbod, owinor
to bad roads and stoppages at every inn, Icould only
be had on the principal lines of trafficjand never
approached those small towns and scattered vil
lages where our merchant's customers flourished.
Mr. Fairhold's journey, like his business, was
quiet, but regular. He was a peaceablei man, and
had always travelled safely, though there were
bold highwaymen in those days,, and the - police
sy-tem was far from its present completeness. His
customers were mostly steady, methodical men,
iiiven to clear accounts and punctual payments.
With many of them Mr.. Fairhold was! an old ac
quaintance, joyfully entertained at their houses in
memory of similar hospitalities received in their
great journeys to London. The landlords. of all
the respectable inns on his way waited fqr our mer
chant's coming year by year, as that ofjan impor
tant guest ; and he rode on from one country towu
to another, through narrow, rutty roads, familiar
only with cart and wagon, at a pace varying from
fifteen to twenty miles a day, attending to his
horse's comfort as well' as his own, settling old ae-
counts, openi g new ones, and depositing his re-
ceints in a diminutive stronff box constructed for
that purpose in his valise. There may jbe readers
of our tale who have never seen a specimen of that
antiquated convenience; but the valise; played an
important part in the travelling of Francis Fair-
ponderous folios iu which laborious scholars then;
stntlied law and divinity, and was fastened to too
back of the si Id e bv straps and buckles too nu
-.patience of our hurrying jdavs.
-the valise respectable travellers were accustomed to
p:iek all their requisites, including money: and Mr.
Fairhold had seventeen hundred pounds' the entire
returns ot his country business, besides bills and
bonds, in the before mentioned strong box, when,
at the end of a seven weeks' circuit, liej arrived at
an old and favored -hyirknown trs the Golden Lion,
and standing on the ancient road betweeij Farnham
The country- is now studded with hafrilets and
firm-houses ; "but at the 'time of our taie, a wild
heath extended for milei alonjj tlie base of the
chalk hills, through which the road, little better
than a modern sheep-path, wound wkli many a
curve and angle. At one of these tu'rns'stood the
Golden J.joi one of the oldest hostels ihthecoun-
Uv of Surrey. ' Travellers had resoit-d to that
house before the civil war. Its quaint chimneys,
low windows and wide porch were wreathed with
- ivy but its thick walls of timber, hewn! from the
: famous oaks of Sussex, its roofs deeply j thatched
with reeds and oaten straw, were stilfptoof against
time and weather. The sanded space in front stiil
contained the horse-block and the draw-well.
' Sounds of pigeons and poultry came from the yard
behind, cattle b,-ol nA rolled in fields
- - v. ....v. .
scmi-,-1.- - . . i 1 .i j
l "lv separate 1 from the surrounding heath, and.
half inn le.if f..... v . . , , t . . .i
"in.n.tit farm house, the old hostel greeted ail
i wayfarers witl,' tl, i e-
irers viui, the creak of its swinging sign, on
i which the forest l-i . j ff r:n
loresi king was represented in rather m-
I definite gilding.
For twenty years Mr. Fairhold had rested there roughly disgusted, our order loving merchant start
on bis homeward way; but as he now approached ed up. Things were not as- they ought .to be at
the house, late in a close, cloudy afternoon, with i the Golden Lion! that Was manifest; and he would
. i i . x
great drops oi neavy rain, announcing a v el eveu-
ing, he could not help observing that something of !
neglect and carelessness had grown about the Gol j
den Lion. Its eaves were less trim, its porch less j
carefully swept and scoured ; and in the best kitch- j
en, which had always served for tap room and par- !
!er was t be seen. Mr. Fairhold made these dis-
coverii's before his arrival was perceived. He had
thrown his bridle over the staple in the porch, and
stepped quietly in. to tho'great- surprise of tlio three, j
who saluted him with keen, suspicious lo ks; ami
still "more to the astonishment of the host, who
woke up at the sound of his entrance.
, Changes had come over the old house since last
the merchant saw it. Mrs. Ilobbes, the honest ac
tive landlady, had been summoned from her do
mestic cares to the house appointed for all living.
Mr. Ilobbes had married the maid, and latterly ta
ken strongly to old October, of which, like many
a country innkeeper in his day, he was a notable
brewer. Things in consequence were not as they
had been at the Golden Lion ; but Ilobbes wel
comed Mr. Fairhold with all the noise and bustle
he deemed requisite for such an old and distin
guished customer, shouted .for the ostler and stable-boy
to look after his horse, summoned Mrs.
Ilobbes. the second to provide for entertainment,
and with muttered apologies for the company in
his best kitchen, marshalled bim and his valise to
the parlour. That room of pride, fur such it had
been to the 'former hostess, contained the chief
treasures of the Golden Lion. There were tlie
glazed cupboard filled with china, the eight day j
clock, and the best bed hung with 'dimity. Mr. '
Fairhold thought the round table and oaken floor 1
had lost the dark polish they used to exhibit; but '
the rain, was heavy without, the evening was dark i
and chill, and lie sat -by the blaze of a bright wood
tire discussing a substauf'al supper after his long
ride, and hearing, through the wooden partition
which divided the kitchen and parlour, the ostler
expatiate on the weight and chink of his own va
lise to a, number of inferior travellers w hom the
rain or Ilobbes' strong ale had assembled.
The merchant did not much mind that, though
he remembered one of the three ill-looking men
shading his face with his hand while glancing at
him, and wished the ostler had not guessed so correct.
ly concerning his strong box. More solemn thoughts
came as he looked round that old frequented room.
It spoke to him of life and its uncertainties. The
busy, good-humored landlady, w hom he had known
for twenty years, was gone: and the furniture by
which she set such store, and which she took plea
sure in scouring, all were there, up to the silver tank
ard and the plated candlestick which flanked the
Duke of Marlborough's picture on the chimney
piece; a coarse print in a clumsy frame it was, and
Fairhold had seen it many a year, but never with
out thinking of an early friend. John Churchill
Phillips (as his father had named him, because the
boy was born when the great duke's fame hail the
j flush of Blenheim fresh upon it) was the. son of a
j London draper, not wise enough to see tlie woeful
waste of such victories, but sufficiently prudent
j and successful to leave him in a flourishing busi-
i ness. lie and Francis Fairhold were schoolfellows,
j and grew up tnends. 1 heir inheritance was ot
equal value. I hey married in, the same year
I Phillips named Ins eldest son after Fairhold, and
tood godfather' to his eldest daughter but Phil-
(lius was m haste to be rich. There- were games of
'speculation phyed in his 4,ime, and he. joined one
of them called the Morocco Company, which pro-
mised ieat things by shipping linen to the Moors.
, - ' ' - ,
Phill ps thought it would make his fortune; but
I i .... i. . l ..: i i i1. i . . . . .
losses ov mo .Mio'iiue- pirates a o. ueiaicauoiis ai
! home broke the company, and his affairs ,were ru
, i"od. It must be acknowledged that insolvency
; '. mo,v r:i,e and serious occurrence a hundred
j ,s a. l,,an 11 lias s"c5 become in the mercan-
, uiewou-i.- i ui.iips was proua as we.l as weak; ; He i
; could not bear ti.e ..b.ervaitou, and, leaving all in
i the hands of his creditors, tied with his wife and
. child, it was believed, to Ireland. Our merchant's
recollections of him were interrupted by the en
j trance of Ilobbes, the landlord, who came, in re-
i "it5"!' ' his guest's quality, to ted and inquire
after news, leaving the door ajar, as custom direct
ed, for the gratification of his kitchen company,
"Call me at seven," said Mr. Fairhold, after in-
forming his host that the E trl of. Bute was stid
prime minister, a;rl tlie Hanoverian succession like
ly to be secure ; in return for which lie heard of a
foal with five legs and a bewitched dairy. "Seven
' will give tiie to reach Guilford before dinner; and
j 1 am so. lire, I that a long sleep wdl be useful."
I Ilobbes retired, promising punctuality; and,
j having committed himself and his concerns to the
- care of Him who neither sleeps nor slumbers, Fran-
! cis Fairhold was soon dreaming of his own good
; household and friends in London. The man slept
i soundly, for he had good health and a "clear con-
science: but as the tlin of piireons. cocks, and sruin-
ea-towi rose .round tne solitary inn at the summer i long Lweii tae terror ot tne southern counties, jmt.
sunrise, Mr. Fairhold was disturbed by something ": Fairhold felt the solemn. responsibility of an Eng
running across his face. It was a mouse. He saw j lish juror, as his eye wandered over the crowded
it dart away among the whito dimity, andj tho- f coUtfc and rested on the prisoner. He was a- sul-
never caw mere again. mese reflections he
rose and dressed himself. It was hours before the
appointed time, but thp household were all astir;
People rose eariy in the country then ; the bacon,
egsS&l-,- strong ale, which formed a wefl -to-do
merchant's breakfast, were, therefore, prepared
j forth his good wishes; Mrs. Ilobbes eama ajjjflaV as
i.the draw-well to make her parting courtesy ; and
with all the civility he could assume,(our merchant
rode on to Guilford
The mouse had caused him to yield to his infir
mity of grumbling; but the day was fur, and his
annoyance diminished amazingly, -when, at some
milts from his destination, he found the wagon,
which had left that town for. Horsham with the
tirstjight, sticking fast in a deep rut.. The horses
had broken their traces and lied over the fields pur
sued by the wagoner and "one of bis passengers ;
while the rest, consisting of two Sussex fanners, a
brewer, a butcher, and the master of a Portsmouth
trader, stood in great trepidation regarding anoted
gang of highwaymen, said to be somewhere in the
neighborhood. Our traveller Jheered their hearts
with the assurance that he had neither seen nor
heard of them. The wagoner and his help hail
by this time caught the horses, but all endeavours
to mend the harness proving vain, the latter offer
ed to proceed with their new acqna'ntance to Guild
ford, and bring back assistance if possible. Such
accidents were by no means .uncommon in the
travelling of those times. Fver ready to oblige,
Mr. Fairhold at once assented to the proposal ;
anJ: h.v wnJ of making baste, it was agreed that
each should ride and walk by turns.
It wassoon found, however, that the wagon
traveller, who was little more than a ypuih, could
Set ovel' the miry road almost as quick as Fair-
holdVjjoiet horse ; rapid progress of all kind was
indeej impossible, and they begu'led the way with
conversation. There was something in the active
figure and honest, cheerful look of his companion
which seemed funiliar to the merchant's memorv.
He had a frank, courteous manner, too, which at
once won Mr. Fairhold's liking; and as b is dress
spoke of respectability striving with narrow means,
our merchant ventured, on the strength of seniori
ty, to hint some inquiries touching his history and
prospects. "My father," said the young man,
was once a prosperous London merchant, but
speculation ruined him, and he died in compara
tive poverty in Dublin. My mother followed him.
early to the grave, and my boyhood was passed in
j t)(1;U'"g about among our relations in Bristol: Af
ter that, I got my own living by serving two dra
pers in succession; but the first failed, the second
was burned out. I have been trying hard for a.
situation in London, and, though little to mv lik
ing, it seems the will of .Providence that I should
go to sea with a cousin of mother's, in whose com
pany I was on my way to Portsmouth when our
wagon stuck fast."
"What is your name, young man V inquired
'"Francis Fairhold Phillips, at your service,"
said the- youth. '
" Then you are my namesake, and the son of
my earliest friend," cried the merchant, grasping
: his hand ; "you will never want a situation while
j I have a ware house. My boy, I have got a lc-s-
! son this morning against grumbling at trifles ; but'
for a .mouse, which woke me up in no goodtem-
J per, I shouldn't have left the' Golden Lion for
j som- hours later, nor have fallen in with you and
'the Horsham wa"on " "
! n..f,. i n i i i j
: rsetore things were fully explained, they entered
.i,(1 ...,, . ' . " ,-. . " v i
tlie town ; assistance was forthwith dsspatched to
t th.. ..,, i -m -n- . v. , . i
I tne w agon, and voung Phillips, on ii good norse
j frnm (
ae Crown Too rode b;ick to take leave of
j i-s mother's cousin.' Joyfully he returned to join
j t10 merchant - and Mr F-drhold with his chink-
i ing vaJist and his new-found namesake, journeyed
i safely on to the old house in Cheanside. There
j he f))Un(1 lis famJv aml business all fis he had left
j tht.m ,some two m,;nths hefore. xhe honest fore,
! man .AV(. un - i ' ; ti,
merchant made his annual payments, and the
house of Fairhold continued to flourish. Its mas
ter found in the son of his friend an assistant on
whose business abilities and, better still, on whose
sterling principles he could rely; and as his true
worth became every day more apparent in home
! and warehouse, Mr. Fairhold was wont to remark
j how much, under ' Providence, he owed to that
j disturbing mouse at the Golden Lion, and how
; short-sighted he had been to crumble: at what had
; been a blessing under disguise.
j The good merchant had half made up his mind
j to call there on his approaching journey, when at
! the summer assizes, held at the Old Bailey, he
' was summoned to act as a juror on the trial of a
I ntan indicted for highway robbery. The case ex-
cited considerable interest of that morbid kind so
common to mobs in all ao-es. for the man was be-
' lieved to be the last of a desoerate rausr who liad
...ii ,i. vr:.i. i . . -
Jen, hardened man, whom the alternate want and
riot of an evil life had made prematurely old j
There was no trace of better days .about him ; but ' .
as his many aliases were read over with the i j
dictmeiit, the last of them was William AVatel'oftf
The evidence was clear; the facts were p i ed. - j
The prisoner had been a companion of 'rnj hers,,
and active in breaking the laws of bothod and" "j
man; but Francis Fairhold remembered the boy I
who had sat in his church-pew, and worked in
his warehouse, and though conscience obliged him
to concur in the unanimous verdict of "guilty,"
his reasonino- hronrdit the whole iurv 1.-iy to ree-
- p--- j
ommend him to mercy, in consideration of early
seduction and a misguided youth. , :
The law had little mercy in those davs ; but the
judge being a humane man, as judges ought to be,
supported the petition which Mr. Fairhold by
great exertion got up, and the capital sentence
was commuted to transportation. His good work
was searoly finished, when our merchant received
a message one morning from the governor of New -
gate, saying that the prisoner Waterton be'"-'ed
hard to see him.
Hoping an impulse of repentance, might have
caused this, Mr. Fairhold hastened to -see his lost
apprentice in the prison cell. The unhappy man
was more moved than could have been expected
at his coming, and when they were alone said
" Sir, you have done a great deal for me, and
ill I deserve it ; but I couldn't cross the sea with
out speaking to you of one thing. You remem
ber, almost a year ago, when you stopped at the
Golden Lion on your way back to London. You
had collected a deal of money, and I knew it
though you didn't know me, for I was one of the
three men who sat drinking in Ilobbes's kitchen.
"We were all of the same gang, ami hearing that
you were to go at seven next morning, we laid a
plan to rob you at tt lonely part of the road, and 1
meant tcr take your life, sir, because you had been
my master, and tried to keep me in order. I have
lived to be thankful that we were disappointed ;
but, to this hour, cannot understand why you
should have set out three hours before the time.''
Readers, the chasm was wide betw een the pious,
upright merchant and the convicted felon ; but
both learned wrtmii tlrfe walls of " N?ev!te what"
wondrous work an overruling Providence bail
wrought by a puny instrument. The mouse,
which distubed Air. Fairhold's sleep, and ruffled
his teinner, had been the means of saving his life,
and through him that of his intended murderer.
Even on the liardened mind of the latter the event
explained by his old ma-ter made an impression
which proved lasting, for hopeful accounts of him
-were heard from the penal colony. Francis Fair
hold carried on business for many a year in Cheap
side, and made many a journey among his coun
try customers, always calling at the Golden Lion.
In memory of his marvellous escape, he livd a
broad seal engraved with the figure of a mouse,
and thus motto : " By it God preserved me." The
modest, upright young man, whom he met on
that eventful day, became to him a son through
the special favor of h'is daughter Sophy. Kate
wedded a neighbor's son, and lived close by her
parents ;,. but never did his increasing family gath
er round the good merchant's board, at Easter or
Christmas time, that he didn't recall the event of
the wayside inn with fervent thankfulness. Some
times, too, he related it to impatient spirits, with
this exhortation: "Never get out of sorts at
small annoyances ; they may be God's messen
From a Correspondent of the Boston Post. .
FACTS RESPECTING THE PAST AND PRE-
SENT STATE Or TURKEY.
As we have heard so much about the decay of
Turkey, it will he as well to compare, by compe
tent authorities, its past with its present state. The
revenue of the Sultan was, about seventy years
since, 4,494,250.; at th" present time the revenue
of the Turkish empire is 6.500,000. The (axes
are at the present time very moderate, and collect
ed, on the whole, v;ry fdriy. This increase of re-
venue has taken place entirely since the recent re-
forms. Surelv an increase in the revenue of a na
tion equal to 44 per cent, is anything but a sign
i Then, with respect to the army :in 1774 the Tur
i kish government, with its utmost efforts could only
j bring into the field 142. OoO men, and those totally
undisciplined. In 1812 little more than 50.000
J Russians kept the principalities against the Turks,
j In the Greek war, from 1851 to 1828, the Turks
j were never able at any one time to bring into the,
i field 80,000 men a.nd these, with the exception of
I the Egyptians, were mere rabble. In 1829 the
, Su'tan Mahmoud could not bring into the field'
1:30,000 men, and three-fourths of these were whol
ly without discipline, and the residue raw r-
cru'ts. , .
curing the wars with Meuemet All, u,uwumen
j were the. outside military force the Turks could
muster, and the comjositiori -of their forces was
j contemptible. At the present time it appears- that
Aoaui .ueujia nas on the two ironuers u,wu
men under arms, of which three fourths are re-
! gular troops, by all accounts, equal, if not superior,
to an equal numlifr of Russians.
Is this a symptom of decay ? This doe. not in-
1 , ' .
dude a reserve of 150,000 men m garrison, or on
j their way to the seat of war. In fret, it may be I tion for fame filling a world's ear, for fjie highest
I safely assumed, taking into account the compOsi- I power for the sweetest sleep that ever $11 on mor
l tion of the forces; the zeal and ability of many of tai'a eye"
the officers, that the Ottoman emp re .M noyer
during the whole of its existence, hd in rfiljd
at any one time au army l0 be cornered will, the
present one. In reading the history of Turkey it
will I found that the Russians have lu.ver hefut-
ed in tlie open field'to attack th- irrj dar Turkish
tro-or when tlu-v have' Un jut t, U J , r
portion "of four to on. ' ' '' '
It appears, now that the Turks ro diacipiine.I
and properly led, that, man for man, they are a
match for the Russians. It m;.st aso be'rvi
j lred that, under the old system, the-jturks plunder
: ed iiidisrimina'.e v;.,r,,i .,.1 r. . t .
; ""-v ...vim- ...o iocs. io such an
; extent was this carried previous" lo jhe destruction
i of the Janizaries, that the advent if the Turkish
r army was a signal for the inhabitants to have their
i dwellings. Now, thre is no more plunder with a
: Turkish army than with au Englwhlone. The' al-
most universal sobriety of the Turks is one reason
, why they are so amenable to disciplijue. Their na-
' vy. also, is very far -superior, bv all accounts to
; what it has been at nriy previous ,ii j ,,f ,M.jr
hist-a v, '
! The jgreat improvements and imfivase in their
j military and naval forces, the large additions to their
revenue,-the ameliorations in their l.ws and o-ener-
I ai pohcy, the toleratioir displayed, anjd kind treat-
ment f the Christians, show anything but the cle-
cay we so often hear of. In fict, nations have gteat
vitality, and millions now living mayj yet see Jur
key become one of the great powers jof Europe.
THE HISTORY OF SERMONS,
When shall the world be favored with a history
of the pulpit, and who ivill write it? . Such a work
is a great, disideratum, and, well exicuted, might
prove of incalculable value. The world is full of
material, which only needs to be c
and arranged. Let some one of our
jmeir of ui'ght
gird himself for the task.
One chapter in Mich a work, or perhaps more,
should be giveu lo the . origin and iji's-orv of ser
mons, and curious indeed would bij its develop
ments; especially if all their secret jhiMory coi Id '
be made known. Let us give two- dr thiee facts,
which may go to show somewhat ofowjhat we mean.
One of the 'most beautiful and popular of tho
sermonsjof, Robert Hall, Ui t4vccji.irn,l
the death of the amiable Princes (Jhailotte, who
died in 1817 a sermon wltch he I bail not even
thought of delivering an hour before ijts commence
ment. Devoted to his -duty, this eminent man -el- "
do'm looked at a newspaper, and was isiiprenielv ig
norant of passing events, so that he jvas not "aware :
of the time when the princess was to! be buried.
The funeral ceremony took place on -Wednesday
evening, jut at the time of Mr. Hall's weekly lec
ture. Royal bereavements generally have atten
tion paid them for the pulpit, especial y at the hour
of interment, but the thought never occurred to
Mr. Hall that anything more than ordinary service
would take' place at Harvey Lane.
On his arrival there, as usual, ' behejd the whole
house was lighted up and crowded. . V -How is this,
sir?'' asked Mr.. .Hall of one of the deacons. -
" What does this crowd mean ?" ".Why, sir, the
Princess Charlotte, you know, is buried this even
ing, and the people are come to hear your funeral
sermon of her." "Well, sir, I am Very sorry I
had entirely forgotten ir ; ak"Mr. 1 to intro
duce the service, and I will sit down, in the vestry
and endeavor to think of s unething tb saw" The
substance of the' seinion on the topic, which ap
pears in the first volume, of U., works, was the re
mit of , half an hour's let! cii ns; the sermon was
afterwards written, published and produced great
j effects. The widowed prince described it as the
best f all sermons sent hirn on the oieasibn ; and
another eminent man thought that i.h? production
of such a sermon went far to account for the mvs
terious removal of the princess.
Much Smaller events than the removal of the
great have suggested good sermons.
!1 he admira-
! ble disciurse on " Walking by Faith," ithe first ser-
muii bv Andrew fuller, owed its ongni to a small-
. ' . t
er matter. It was delivered t an annual meeting
of the Noi thainptoiishire Association, p4. whose re
quest it was printed. Like the sermon f his friend
Hali, not a word of it was written till latter its de
livery. On his way to the Association the roads
in several places were flooded, arising jfrbm recent
rains, which had male the rivers "overflow. Mr.
Fuller came to one place where the wafer was very
deep, and he, being a stranger to its efcact d.-pth,
was unwilling to go on. A plain c untryman re
siding in the neighborhood, better acquainted with
the water than the preacher, cried out, "Go on,
sir, you are quite safe." ,
Fuller urged on hi3 horse, but tlie water soon
touched his saddle and he stopped to tliiak. "(io
on, sir, all is right," shouted the man. Taking the
man at his word, Fuller proceeded, arid the text
whs su "-rested. "We waik bv faith, not! bv sight."
j Beautiful. Here is a beautiful sentence from
j tU; M,U (f Coleridge. Nothing can U more elo-
- nf nothing more true
j "Call not that man wretched whoJ whatever
ejse ie suffers, as to pain inflicted or pleasure deni.
i e(J jjas SLC1(i for whom lie hopes an4 on whom
pOVerty mav grind mm to) the dust,
j 0i.sclir:tv mav cast its dark mautle 6ver him; his
i voce inay he unheeded by those, among whom he
; dwells and his lacejnay be unknown bylhis neigh-
j bors-even pain may rack his joints' and sh ep
i fleet from his pillow, but he has a gem with which
; , . . -f fo the -hh defrir,Wnrn,ta-
- ' ."- 1 I