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VOL.1. ' GHEENSBOROUGH, FRIDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 14, 183G. NO. 20.
WHAT IS LIFE?
What is Life ! the wounded mind,
The spirit broken and confin'd
The faded form the soul's deep strife.
All fondly echo what is Life?
What is Life ? a broken chain,
A weary road, a couch of pain,
A few famed blessings little prized,
A thousand hopes unrealized.
What is Life? a bank of llowerf,
Ijow drooping and unnurst by showers,
A winter's sun, whose quivering beam
Sheds but a momentary gleam.
What is Life? a bhou'r of tears,
A short, short nxniJ of misspent years,
A dream that's bryken ere its close,
A battle scene mid" hosts of fo.
What is liie ? its tinsel'd toys
T7VrcTut the mock of real joy,
A play, where gaudy groups arc seen,
Arid death presides to close the scene.
A PHYSIOLOGICAL REVERIE.
41 Nature is greatest in hersmallest works'1
ftayg-Pliny. Crowds flock together to ad
mire the agility of a Circus performer; he
stands on his head, they are astonished; he
jumps over a rope some six feet high, they
arc thunder-struck. And yet the perfor
mance of a man is infinitely inferior to
that of a flea. The most active biped can
not jump further than twenty feet, not four
times his length, while a Ilea will clear at
one bound, a distance equal to a thousand
times his length, find yet gain no credit
by his exploit. With regard to muscular
activity then, nature is maxima in minimis.
L.t us see if 11 in y is correct in other res
pects.
Whv arc little men so generally -asuam
" ci of their Zacchcism ? should they repine
because their neighbours command a hon
z aii a little, wider than theirs J lie diiier
once is all to their advantage physiology
and history uoite-jfiivfettetm54bcr.--3TSMi.tj5
Nine-tenths of the great men of the work
hue been little men. Little men lead vast
armies little men write great books little
men .achieve eollossal reputations, And
why? Because the vital principle, like
steam, is more energetic, the more its sphere
of activity is narrowed in little men itsaet
on. the high pressure! principle, sending
them through life with power and impetuos
ity. L.;rgc men -arc slower in all their op
circulates less rapidly, and is longer in its
iournev from the heart to the head their
pulse is less prompt. WhiLt large men are
deliberating, little men act, for they decid
with more quickness, and execute with
more ranidifv. Some author has finely re
marked that "a talkative, stirring active lit
tic man, "labours to recover in time what
he has lost in space." 1 he reverse hold?
with regard to men of great stature.
Hit et not the tall and corpulent reader
take this grievously to heart. We have
comfort in store for him. Though he has
less activity, he has moro happiness; the
pinguitude which deprives him of excita
bility is his shield against evils. He suf
fers loss from contact with the world phys
ically and morally. His nb3 and Ins sen
sibilities alike are better protected. If
his movements are slow his desires are
moderate if he does riot dash impetuous
ly forward with ambition, he jogs quietly
along with contentment. He does not gal
Imp ou war-horses ami drive triumphant
"chariots.; lie is methodically consistent, and
amiable; every one is his friend, and he
preserves .his character. A little man might,
as well make up his mind to lose his repu
tation, wherever he niay o, and whatever
he may do. He is always in hot water
always abused and valified. His activity
and enterprise raise a horrietVncst about
his eafs people stare at his exploits and
become envious of his. powers and before
be has reached the half way house df life
his character is gone.
A leading politician of this state once
compared ope of his antagonists, (who was
a very little man) to a "hen wiih her head
cut off," The comparison was meant as a
sneer it was in reality a compliment. A
hen with her. bead cut off, shows for a time,
far more activity than she ever exhibits pre
viously to decapitation. And what is activ
ity but animation the less active we are,
the less is our, vital principle, and complete
Inactivity idcath.
From the New York Weekly Messenger.
EDUCATION.
'The education, moral and intellectual,
of every .individual, must be chiefly of his
own work. There is a prevailing and fa
tal mistake on this subject. It seems to
be supposed that if a young man be sent
first to a grammar school, and then to cql-
lcge, hejnust of course-become a scholar, j
and the pupil himself is apt to imagine
that he is to be a mere passive incipient of
instruction, as he is of the light and atmos
phere, which surrounds him ; but this
dream of indolence must be dissipated,
and you must be awakened to the impor
tant trutlj that, if you aspire to excellence,
you must become active, and by vigorous
co-operation with your teachers, work out
your own distinction with an ardor that
cannot be quenched perseverance that
considers nothing done while any thing re
mains to be done. Rely upon it that the
ancients were right Quis que sve fortune
jubcr both in morals and intellect, we
give the first shape to our own characters,
and tnus Decome emphatically the architects
of our fortunes. How. else should it hap
pen, that young gentlemen, men who have
precisely the same opportunities, should be
continually presenting us with such differ
ent results, and rushing to such destinies ?
Difference of blent will not solve it, be
cause that difference is very often in favor
of the disappointed candidate. - You shall
see issuing from the wall of the same
school nay, sometimes from the bosom of
the same family, two young men, one
shall be admitted to be a genius of high or
der, the other scarcely above the point of
mediocrity; yet, you shall sec the genius
sinking and perishing in poverty, obscurity,
and wretchedness ; while on the other hand,
you shall observe the mediocrity plodding
his slow but sure way up the bill of life,
gaining steadfast footing at every step, and
mounting at length to eminence and dis
tinction an ornament to his family ; a
blessing to his country. Now whose work
is this Manifestly their own. They are
the architects of their fortunes. And of
this be assured, I speak from observation,
there is no excellence without great labor.
It is the fiat of fate from which no power
of genius can absolve youth. Genius un-
exerted is. like the poor moth that flutters
arbimn iW'c
death. If genius be desirable at all, it is
only of that great and magnanimous kind
which like the candor of South America
pitches from -the summit of Cbimborazo a
hove the clouds, and sustains itself with
pleasure, in that imperial region, with an
energy rather invigorating than weakening
by the effort; it is that capacity for big
and long continued exertion thivigorois
poAYCEjufx profound and searching investiga
hension of mind, and those long reaches of
thought ; that
Pluck bright honor from the pale faced moon,
Or dive into the bottom of the decp.
Where fathom line could ne'er touch the ground
And drag updrowncd honor by the locks.
This is the power and these the hardy a
enlevements wlucli arc to enrol your names
among the great men of the earth
FromTlhe Saturday: Courier,
TRIPLETS, &c.
BY A CORRESPONDENT.
No. 1.
"D I take the Delaware," exclaimed
my cabin chum as the good packet
courtesied out at the capes, "and the broad
ocean all leforc us lav.
"Amen, said i; "it would make nis
ilk T , , A 1 1 1
majesty's kingdom as endless, as it is now
supposed to be bottomless. Saturday, Sun-
nay, Monday A Our speed has been equal
to4he famous pedestrian, .who,
" Ran fourteen miles in fifteen days,
And never looked behind him."
Not that vr have been so fortunate ; no
indeed, forbid it, Mrs.Lot ! oh, these last,
long, lingering looks !
" The last, the last, the last;
Oil, by that little word,
-How inaay thoughts are-stirred?" -
As the shoemaker said ! and oh ! that old
State House clock, and its friendly face.
The first that warned us, and tho last that
tolVdl who now will remind us of our
breaking fast ? what hand will point us to
that time when i
Leaving men the dessert they will make,
We smile, like martyrs, o'er a smoking steak !
By the way, this reminds me that I have
a new theory of sea sickness: it should be
g-miae-siekhess ! Our steward (bless his
enightcd soul !) declares "grease be bcrrv
good t' keep da watta out dem dar raw sai-
ors oonmcs-sort a tarra, like, massa !
So grease and gravy, Hrk and molasses,
obscouse" and suet uumplins, are to be
the order or dis-omcr of the day
"Pilot boat a-hoy'
so
"the old man of
the sea," as the captain calls the poor, old,
weather beaten pilot, who has kept us off
shore as long as Jonah did his whale, is
afloat at last, and'Wc arc AT SEA.
What a glorious clement is water !
water! it might make a sponge "think!
f there is one thing for winch 1 " affection"
Mr.N. P. W. more than another, it is for
his eloquent eulogy thereon. Water! it
once drowned that world which "a sprink
ling" can alone save 1
But look, lo, behold ! What fairy wonders
ever equalled yon pile of "drifting dizzi
ness," curtaining out the setting sun !
spires that seem to grave the azure tablets
of the sky "like a tall angel's spear in
dreams" grottos, that gloom like ghastly
gateways to the realms below ! and cliffs,
whose giant " foreheads stoop to meet the
kisses of the sea," wherein gleam the mir
rored magic of a thousand domes (air cas
tics!) azure, and green, and gold ; with
the "blue above and the blue below," and
all around heaven's glittering iris ("the
bow of the air and the bow of the sea,") for
a frame to the the the tchatf Pic
ture ? no sir, no ! Iceberg ? No fog, va
pour, mist, cloud water ! Blessed are
the patient, you know, reader. (I thinly I
will join the temperance " tctotalers,") bit
unij gug me u urop oi water ami a sun
beam, and, like Archimcdesc of old, I too
will "raise a world!" ahem !
There is a "thing or two," afsca such
as the first sun-rise
out sight of land ; the
nrsi storm or calm
; that must be seen, but
cannot be described. I shall not attempt
them: and then the first touch of sea-sick
ness E-n-o-ii-g-li! "
"Cast your head upon the wa
ters, saith the scriptures.
But after these things, when calmness
begins to clothe one as with a habit ; when
the pale moon, (that gentle shepherdess o
the stars,) lookcth down upon the sobbing
waters, "still heaving, like young bosoms,
with pist storms, and her gentle smile
shineth into thine own heart, and maketh
thee to know that "Nature rewardeth fel
lowship, not prayers'fliou'slialVtbeiircct
that it is good for us to be here : and that
"Thon hast a voice, great ocean, to repeal
. i . . i . i i .
Large codes of fraud and woeinot understood
fly alt, tut w hich the" wise, and great, and good
interpret.
i a l : i. t ii
i iiuiiK i couui never lire oi a sea voy
age: but there is no knowing: Miss E
, (the " r lorenco ' of the Southern Alaga
zincs,; talks ot the " monotony of a trip
ol three thousand mijes only. She writes
' Tw thingbreak the monotony
Otn Atlantte trip;
For somiines we may " ship a sea."
t And sometimes " see a ship !"
IMng talks off be hTfllmjy;er7f!i'dy,;
perhaps liiel had left a wife, or a tiresome
sweetheart, three or four thousand miles
behind, I too might find it "thrilling;" as
it is, it is with no good vwli that I see my
self once more forced to
Join tli innumerable caravan that moves
To the pale realms of trade.''''
Jjong Island, with all its depots of Kidd's
money, awakes no emotion; Montank
point is a sort of point no point ; and
BIockIsland, where they once ate fish un
til their children began to be born web foot
ed and scaly, is no stepping place for my
vaulting ambition ; and as we passed Cape
Cod at night, it is impossible to say aught
of the Sea Serpent -saving that a phrenolo
gical portrait is being taken of his snake
ship's -cranium, (by a Nahant operative,)
that promises to have a great run. The de-
velopementscaution, secretiveness, hoprv
and marvelousnoss being strikingly ca
eulatod to wriggle themselves into favour
of the " popular party !
But hush l-Boston harbour as I HveJ
-sthere i tho light--Jind yonder is Nahant,
white cotfafrcst hotel? and the little Ore
cian Temple forVbiHianr-rofln-l; "There ii-
eth Lynn, and her French shoe man u facto-
ries, awar round, out ot sight, i his is
Egg Rock (Nix's mate gonca irrfic-
ted,) and now Apple If land- sendeth us a
sweet smelling savour, telling of clover
Ileitis and pic-nic parties ,
"Scenes of beauty ! Ah well I know ye
Many moments of joy I owe ye
Oh! joys long vanish'd
And my breast is lill'd with pain.
Finding objects that still remain,
While those days come not again."
I'll. give you a few "notions" in my next
Never ending, &:c. Z. E. B.
TEMPEST IN A TEAPOT.
Time midnight My dear dont you
hear a noise in the parlor?" "Why Lucy
what is the matter! Yaw eh e e haw,
what's the matter now? any of (he children
sick?" "No but don't you hear a noise
down staris 7 Listen there, nowsome bo
dy's broke into the house ; call tho watch.
Watch ! watch ! Susan, Jane, get up Fire
thieves! watch ! watch !" tt
While the lady Was singing for help, the
husband had slipped on his inexpressibles,
and was fumbling for the box of lucifers.
There I've got a light at last ; but bless
me! what is that? chee- e c fiz itse
che itsi whis whis bung ! Bless
me ! Lucy, what's wherc's the poker ?" " I
don't know, Mr. Snorem, Dickey had it for
a horse, yesterday." "Mercy what shall I
do ? There, don't you hear ? Where can
the watch be?"
By this time, Susan jane, the nurse, with
Dickey at her side and Rolando in her
arms, had all met in congregation at the
cliamber door. The door opened, and forth
issued Mr. Snorem, candle in hand, armed
with the shovel, anil quaking in every limb.
Mrs. Snorem, followed: eyes like saucers,
rolled up in the counterpane, with a hearth
brush in her hand pendant. ' Backed by
such a suit, Mr. Sriorem's dairler rose.
" Pshaw you aint afraid, are you ?" and he
strode oil when bang went the chamber
door, and horror ! out went the candle. -Just
then came an awful groan from the di
ning room. " There ! there ! Mr. Snorem, you
shant go. Dicky, hold your blubbering
tongue. Oh dear,! they arc killing poor
Tom, the black bov. (Tom slept down in
j the kitchen.) 1 Don't you hear him begging.
Dear me, there now ! and Mrs. S. dodged
off into a swoon. Mr. S. became furious ;
he relit his candle and grapling his shovel,
rushed down stairs ; after him came the
whole family, minus Mrs. S fainted, and
Tom missing.
"Now then, where are the rascals?"
shouted Mr S. as he flung open the dining
room door, dice lizst whist chee
bung ! and a report like a pistol, .accom
panied with something striking close along
side of Mr. S's. head. " Mufder! help!"
roared out the whole in chorus, when up
stairs rushed Tom with a candle, the lumin
ary of the party having dropped in the con
fusion. "Eh! what's dis, Master and Miss
Susan, rolling 'bout entry ? golly, haw haw.
You IiekrtQjump bout aej what scare
you so, eh! fraid I bile you?" "You
black rase al, go into the other room and
see what's the matter' roared Mr, S. vvbq
had found his legs. Iom went in and
found how sjiall we tell it? Six spruce
beer bottles under the dining tables ! Four
minus their corks, and one shattered' and
beerless, The mystery was solved. A 4
general laugh took place, and the parties re
tired to renew their slumbers, exeept Mr. S.
who found Mrs. S. sitting on the top step
and said to her a little harshly, "1 wish to
heaven when you make your beer for econ
omy again, vou would see it works in the
day, tirae-v and E.;tv.fttgliti:iv;Yttu.V;-isjtr-.
pot "is spoiled",, and Ihall have the influen
za for a week.
EXTRAORDINARY ESCAPE.
Some Moravian missionaries, on the
coast of Labrador, had a miiaculous escape,
from the breaking up of the ice. The
had occasion to pass to Okkak, abou I5U
miles from Nuiu. Thev started in sledges
upon the ice. As they proceeded on their
journey, there was a mighty rumbling of
the sea beneath the ice. The Esquimaux
were exceedingly alarmed, and resolved to
make for the land at tins nearest point ;
ut as the sledges passed towards the shore,
tho ice, which had been broke into frag
ments, was forced up against the rocks and
driven back, grinding with terrilhc noise
against the precipices, (says tho Moravian
account.) To make the land, at any risk,
was now the only hope left; but it was
with the utmost difficulty the frighted dogs
could Je forced forward, the whole body of
ice sinking frequently below the surface of
the rocks, then rising above it. As the
only moment to land was that when it gain
ed the level of the coast, the attempt was
extremely nice and hazardous. The trav
ellers had hardly time to reflect with grati
tude, when that part of the ice from which
they had just now made good their landing
burst asunder, and the i wafer, forcing itself
from below, covered and precipitated it
into the sea. In an instant, as if by a sig
nal given, the wholo biass of ice, extend
ing for several miles from the coast, and as
far as the eye could reach, began to burst,
and be overwhelmed by the immense waves.
The sight was tremendous, and awfully
grand ; the large fields of ice, raising them
selves out of the water, striking against
each other, and plunging into the deep,
with a violence not to be described, and
a noise like the discharge of innumerable
batteries of heavy guns. The darkness-of
the night, the roaring of the wind and sea,
and the dashihg of the waves and ice a
gainst the rocks, filled the travellers 'with
sensations of awe and horror, so as almost
to deprive them of the power of utterance. I
They stood overwhelmed with astonishment
at their miraculous escape. .and even the
- ' . ...
heathen Esquimaux expressed gratitude to
God for their deliverence.
The Esquimaux now began to build
a snowhouse, about thirty paces from the
beach ; but before they had finished their
work, the waves reached the place where
the sledges were secured, and ' they Were
with difficulty saved from being washed
into the sea.
Before they entered this habitation, they
could not help once more turning to the sea,
which was now free from ice, and beheld
with horror, mingled with gratitude for their
safety, thenormous waves driving furious
ly before the wind, like huge castles, and
approaching the shore, where, with dread
ful noise, they dashed against tho rocks,
foaming and filling the air with the spray.
The whole company now got their supper,
and, having sung an evening hymn in the
Esquimaux language, lay down to rcst j.
bout ten o'clock.
In this miserable habitation the mission
aries remained for seven days, reduced to
the utmost misery for tho want of food.
The weather then cleared up they discov
ered a new track of ice, and returned in
safety to their own homes.
REMINISCENCE OF A SUMMER NIGHTr
It was my misfortune to be a somnambu
list, and for the edification of your readers,
I will relate a strange adventure which hap
ened to me some ten or fifteen years ago,
when residing in my native town.
It was a fine moonlight night in July
1 H , returning home after a ramble with a
few friends, I threw my self, tired and
sleepy on the bed. I dreamed I was
walking at the sea shore when suddenly
my old school master who had been dead
some time, pushed his head out of the wa
ter, and made towards me. Now this man
had always been my dread at school, ami
Satan himself was not half so hateful to my
memory. As he approached me I saw, but
could not escape his grasp, ns the old fel
low laid: his powerful hand on my shoulder,
I started and awoke -gootl God! what were
my feelings when I opened my eyes -I was
sitting on the rail of a dclapidated bridge,
iwq miies irom nome, ano uresseu as wnen
I went to bed. The moon was shining in
the water, and the stars glistening all a
round me. No human being was near, and
horror completely took possession of my
soul, alone, and in such a place, I dare not
rise, and scarcely .ventured to move, there
I sat looking-at the waves as they -flowed
to and from me, like a statue.
At length 1 mustered courage, and set
out for home. A , stray dog and one or two
bled over a large stone which lay in the
road, still onwaid I went, heedless of any
thing till I approached the old meeting
house, which I was obliged to pass in my
way homeward, just as I was turning the
dark corner, the clock struck two, and I
took to my heels, and never looked back
till I gained my chamber, and wiped tho
sweat, which stood in drops from my face. "
I then began to look about me, and after
satisfying myself that I was alive, and no
damage done, went to work to see how I
got into the street so quietly, as I awakened
no one in my passage down stairs. It
seems I had opened my chamber door, walk
ed through a long entry to the head of a
pair of back stairs, which led into tho
kitchen, and instead of going out of the
door I got ouKpf a low window, & made' off
through a gate kich led into the street.
HIGH LIVING AND "MEAN THINKING.
How much nicer peopkNire in their per ....
1 -. - ' :l - -T . . - . .. .
sons than in uieir minus, now anxious
are they to wear the appearanceTSf wealth
and taste in the things of Outw'ardNdio w;
while their intellects are poverty and mfcan-
ncss. see one pi me apes oi iasnion wim ,
his coxcombries aud oste nations of luxury.
His clothes must be made by the best tailor,
his horse must he of tho best blood, his
wines of the finest' flavor, his "cookery of
the highest zeal ; but his reading is of the
poorest frivolities, or of the lowest and
most despicable vulgarity. In the enjoy
ment of the animal senses he is an epi
cure but a pig is a clean feeder compa-
fd with the mind, and a pig would cat
it i . ii r l
good and nao, sweet and ioui aiiKe, out
his mind has no taste except for tiic most
worthless garbage. The pig has no dis
crimination and a geat appetite; the mind
which we describe has not the apology of
voracity; it is satisfied with but little, but
that must bo of the worst sort, and every
thing of a better quality is rejected by it
with disgust. If we could see men's minds
as we see their bodies, what a spectacle of .
nakedness, destitution, deformity and dis
ease it would be ! What hideous dwarfs
and cripples! What dirty and revolting
cravings, and all these connexions with
the most exquisite care and pampering of lS
the body ! If many a conceited coxcomb
could see his own mind, he would sco a
thing the meanest object :J0ffbI"wqHacan
present. It is not with beggary, in its
il ,
'.- .7 -