UNFOLDING MANY CURIOUS UNKNOWN HISTORICAL FACTS.
Translated from the German of Tschink.
(Continued frompage 187.)
Itis almost incredible, with how much appearance of truth and cordiality he manifested his grief at the hapless fate of the Duke. He affected such a tender fellow-feeling, and so much friendship for Miguel, that the latter was charmed with him, and fancied the favourable opinion he had conceived of Alumbrado to be fully justified. The hypocrite not only pitied him, but at the same time, endeavoured to afford him comfort. Mentioning, however, among other arguments, how wonderful the ways of Providence are, and how God promoted our happiness, even through the evils of this world; the Duke shook his head. Alumbrado was surprised at it, and enquired what objection he had against that doctrine? The Duke, who thought him deserving of his confidence, was so imprudent as to unfold to him his new creed; nay, he carried his inconsideration so far as to read to him part of his tract which he had wrote on that subject. Although I was very much terrified at it, yet I was impatient to know Alumbrado’s opinion and behaviour on this occasion. My astonishment rose to the highest degree, when he refuted the arguments of the Duke with a frankness which generally is supposed to arise only from love of truth, and defended the goodness and providence of God, with an evidence and warmth which can originate only from the light of religion. The dignity and energy with which he spoke had an irresistable effect on the Duke; he cast his eyes upon the ground in dumb amazement, and appeared to be confounded and ashamed.
I cannot but confess that I myself began to believe I had been egregiously mistaken in my opinion of Alumbrado’s character. I begged his pardon in my heart, and though I could not love him, yet I thought it my duty not to refuse him my regard any longer.
However, soon after two accidents happened which gave me reason to apprehend that I had changed my opinion too prematurely. I got intelligence that Alumbrado visited the house of a man whose character was very much suspected. Baeza was his name. The important office which he kept at the custom-house, and the extensive trade he carried on all over Europe, had rendered his house respected, wealthy, powerful, and honoured. He was a Jew by birth, but changed his religion from political motives. His conduct, at least, did not refute the opinion that he confessed only with his lips the Roman Catholic religion, and it had given rise to much scandal when Oliva*ez conferred on him the order of Christ. The connection between him and this minister was very intimate and not at all shaken by the revolution; but continued, only with more assiduity and circumspection, which was no difficult task to a consummate hypocrite like Baeza. It will be obvious that Alumbrado’s connection with this man displeased me for more than one reason. Anothercircumstance contributed to strengthen my suspicion of Alumbrado’s honesty. The Duke missed a sheet of his tract on the system of theManichees. Alumbrado had visited him frequently, had been alone in his study many a time where the manuscript was lying on the writing desk. The Duke, far from suspecting him, fancied he had mislaid the paper, and having renounced that system on Alumbrado’s persuasion, did not care much for that tract.
Although my repeated exhortations and my avowed antipathy had not been able to prevail on my friend to drop all connections with that dangerous man, yet they had retained him from being too intimate with him; however, since he knew that I had conceived a more favourable opinion of Alumbrado, he attached himself more closely to him. The old Marquis observed this change with great satisfaction, but, at the same time, saw with greater grief the recovery of his son’s health make but very slow progress. The cause of it was a secret, but rooted melancholy, into which the overflowing exasperation of his heart and furious agony of mind had changed ever since he had adopted the principles of the Manichean system. This melancholy corroded his vitals like the slow poison of a cancer, and stopped not only the circulation of the vital powers, but also the energy of the soul of my unhappy friend in its wonted activity. The situation of his mind was therefore merely passive, which rendered him the more susceptible for those external impressions which fitted the situation of his mind, the less power of resistance and self-activity he possessed. Thus he was an instrument which Alumbrado could play on at pleasure. The latter seemed, however, not yet determined what measures he should take for attaining his aim; but, unfortunately, the Duke himself put him afterwards on the right track. He found particular pleasure in conversing with his new confidant on the happiness which loving souls would derive from their reunion in a better world, and he neglected me now for no other reason but because I could say but very little on that subject, while Alumbrado’s imagination and eloquence were inexhaustible. I had no hope of giving the mind of the Duke a different turn; his natural vivacity, which formerly so frequently avocated his attention from one object, and oftentimes directed it irresistably to another of a nature entirely opposite, this vivacity was entirely extinguished; a gloomy sameness, which was immoveably fixed to the object which once had attracted his attention, having stept in its place. Every terrestrial joy had fled with Amelia, Lady Delier and Antonio; the source from which he at present derived his pleasure, originated beyond the grave. How joyfully would he have overleaped the cleft which separated him from the darlings of his heart, if he had not been kept back by mine and Alumbrado’s persuasions. This state of mind encreased his anxious desire of discovering an artificial bridge of communication with the kingdom of spirits. In short, all the ideas he had imbibed in the school of the Irishman awoke in his mind with redoubled force. What at first had been to him a mere object of knowledge, became now the most important concern of his heart. One time he surprised Alumbrado with the question whether he thoughtit possible to converse with spirits before our death? However the artful man extricated his neck with great dexterity from the sling, replying, that such a question could not be answered in general, nor with a few words. I perceived that Alumbrado viewed the Duke attentively and began to muse, although he had cut off abruptly the thread of the conversation.
No one can conceive how ardently the Duke longed for the arrival of the Irishman, of whom he expected to receive the final solution of that problem. One rather should think that the Irishman ought to have lost all credit with him, on account of his treacherous behaviour; for not only his first promise to put the Duke in possession of Amelia by means of his supernatural power; but also the second, that he would initiate him in the practical mysteries of his supernatural wisdom, as soon as the revolution should have been accomplished, was still incompleted. However, the Duke excused him, instead of suspecting his having deceived him. “Hiermanfor,” he said, “is not all powerful; how could he therefore, avert that fatal blow from Amelia’s head? Hiermanfor has not fixed the day of his return; perhaps he has been detained by business of the greatest consequence, or means to try the measure of my confidence in him; but whatever may be the reason of his non-arrival, he certainly will not omit to make good his word.” Alumbrado asked him who that Hiermanfor was? and the Duke related to him at large his adventures with that man, without betraying the share he had had in the revolution. I expected that Alumbrado, who at once was made acquainted with so dangerous a rival, would do his utmost to ruin his credit; but I was mistaken; all that he ventured to say, was, indeed, very much against him; but he added, that one ought not to judge prematurely on so great and deep a character.
This lenient judgment was not sufficient to cure the Duke of his delusion; although his confidence in the Irishman was very strong, yet his patience was very weak, and my reasoning against Hiermanfor began to make him uneasy. Several times was he going to make public inquiries after him, but the apprehension of offending him without being able to find him out always prevented him from doing it. At last, when the Irishman did not appear after a long and fruitless expectation, my friend took it in his head to inquire after the Count de Clairval and in case he should discover him, to seize him either by force or art, because he expected to receive from him some information of Hiermanfor. Alumbrado desired the Duke to give him a description of the Count. “He is almost of my size,” my friend replied, “but fair, of an interesting countenance, and a tranquil, gentle seriousness, generally characterizes his mien, which however, frequently bespeaks the most jovial humour; his nose is rather of the aquiline kind, his mouth almostwoman likehandsome, and his chin falls a little back, yet without disfiguring him.” “If you wish to get him in your power,” Alumbrado replied, “I will endeavour tospell-bind him; but then I shall want his picture; couldyou delineate it on a piece of paper?” The Duke, who as little as myself knew what to think of this offer, looked alternately at me and at Alumbrado. “Indeed,” the latter continued, “I wish to possess the picture of the Count; leave the consequence to me.”
“If you really wish to possess it,” my friend replied. “you shall have it.”
Possessing a great skill in drawing striking likenesses, he finished the portrait the day following, assisted by his imagination, and gave it to Alumbrado. We were impatient to learn what he was going to do with it; however, he visited the Duke four days without mentioning the picture; but on the fifth day informed him in what hotel he would find the Count. We were looking at him in dumb astonishment, when he added, “Make haste, now you can surprise him and if he should refuse to follow you, you only need to tell him that the guard is waiting for your order to seize him.”
(To be continued.)
Whenthe Earl of Portland was Lord Treasurer of England (1634) he had, like other great statesmen, a crowd of suitors; among others was Mr. Cæsar, Master of the Rolls, who had been soliciting the place of one of the six clerks in Chancery for his son, Mr. Robt. Cæsar, in the room of Mr. D’Ewes, but was disappointed in his expectations; the Lord Treasurer, although he had promised it to Mr. Cæsar, having given it to Mr. Keene; but promised to urge his Majesty in favour of Mr. Cæsar the next vacancy. That happened---the Treasurer was as negligent as formerly; when Ld. Tillibarne eagerly solicited for Mr. Cæsar, and was promised. Tired with useless application, he desired the Treasurer to declare his intentions;---he answered his intentions were for Mr. Cæsar but that he might not forget in future, he desired a token of remembrance; which the other readily complied with, and wrote on a paper “Remember Cæsar!”---In the hurry of the Earl’s business, even this was forgot. Some time after, while he was looking over some loose papers, he observed one, having written on it “Remember Cæsar!” The former circumstances hadescapedhis recollection; therefore, alarmed, he summoned his friends, to have their opinion upon it; who all agreed, an attempt on his life was in agitation, and desired him to use every precaution---In consequence of this, his house was barricadoed, guards were placed around, and all had the appearance of danger and apprehension, when Ld. Tillibarne waited upon him again, but could not gain admittance, till he informed one of the Treasurer’s friends of the circumstances of the note, which brought the whole to the Earl’s recollection, and he complied with Lord Tillibarne’s request; Mr. Cæsar being appointed one of the SixClerks.
PUBLISHED IN THE LAUSANNE MEMOIRS.
Thissubject is important and interesting, although the Abbé has rather collected the observations and experiments made by others, than conveyed any new and original information. He ascribes the inflammability of bodies to the inflammable gas which they contain, and which, on their decomposition by heat, is let loose, and coming into contact with the atmosphere is ignited, and bursts out into flame. The principal part of the memoir is devoted to a detail of the means of preventing and extinguishing fires; and here the author’s chief advice, which is “in the construction of buildings, to employ as little as possible of those materials which yield inflammable air on their decomposition,” will be allowed to be perfectly just in theory, but will probably be little followed in practice: nor is the security resulting from brick floors likely to compensate, in this age of affected elegance, for their appearance. He informs us, however, that M. Ango, an architect of Paris, has contrived a method of constructing a floor with iron bars, instead of timber joists, which is even less expensive than the common mode. The wood used in buildings may be rendered uninflammable, by being steeped in a saline solution, and by being prepared with allum, even canvass and paper hangings may be made to burn without flame.
Many other precautions are mentioned by the Abbé, which we shall not detail, as they are universally known, and we believe pretty generally adopted. After describing the inventions of Mr. Hartly and Lord Mahon, together with a preparation similar to that of Lord Mahon’s recommended by M. Frederic, of Vienna, the Abbé gives an account of a substance, which he calls paper stone, invented by Dr. Faye, physician to the Swedish admiralty: its composition is not known, but from a chemical analysis it appears to consist of two parts of an earthly basis, and one of animal oil, mixed up with two parts of some vegetable substance. At Carlscrone a hut was built of dry wood, covered with this paper, which is not more than two lines in thickness, it was then filled with combustibles, which were set on fire and consumed without burning the building: the paper, which had been pasted on boards, was reduced to a cinder, and formed a kind of incrustation, which preserved them from the effects of the flame. As this paper readily takes any colour, it may be rendered ornamental as well as useful.
In his directions for extinguishing fires, the Abbé observes, that water, in which a small quantity of potash has been dissolved, is more efficacious than any other; he also recommends an engine called an hydraulic ventilator, invented by M. Castelli, which is worked by vanes instead of pistions, and may be managed by one person. The advantages ascribed by our author to this machine are very considerable, but we cannot suppress our astonishment on being told, that with a cylinder of only three inches in diameter, it will throw up more water than the largest fire engine; however, it certainly appears to be lessexpensive and more portable than the common forcing pumps, and may be of use in extinguishing a fire, before it has made any great progress. The utility of garden mould with wet sand in this respect, is well known, but it can seldom be applied, and we doubt the efficacy of the kind of catapult which the author recommends, for throwing it so any distance.
The remainder of the memoir contains some very just and obvious remarks on the necessity of a regular discipline among firemen, and it concludes with a description of the engines, cisterns and pipes at the opera house in Paris, the construction and arrangement of which the Abbé recommends to be adopted in every public theatre.
Imprimis. Oratio Floridensis.
GENTLEMEN,
Thoughtautology is allowable in practice, I don’t approve on’t theoretically; therefore I shall plainly, fully, openly, and concisely, I hope, acquit myself, without being critical, or political, or satyrical, or mystical, or rhetorical, or schismatical, or chimerical, or whimsical.—I’ll give no utterance to any arrogance, with dissonance of deliverance, nor countenance any exorbitance of intemperance, ignorance, or extravagance: what I communicate I shall authenticate, and I beg you’ll compassionate: I will not exaggerate, nor contaminate, nor depreciate, nor discriminate, an intemperate candidate, at any rate. But I prognosticate he must be a profligate, reprobate, and illiterate, apt to prevaricate, hesitate, and degenerate.—I’ll use no eloquence in this conference, in confidence, the consequence of my diligence will evidence the excellence of my innocence, with reference to your preference.
Let others, by a flourish of words, fancy it an accomplishment or an embellishment, by the tongue’s blandishment, it is an astonishment that some speakers are so impertinent to the detriment of every eminent fundament of rudiment.
I take this opportunity without ambiguity, void of incongruity, with perspicuity by narrative, to assert my prerogative without preparative, or provocative.
I shall now conclude without a multitude of solicitude; for the aptitude of men to ingratitude is too plain, so I’ll insist that Shakespeare, and Milton, were sophistical scribblers, and bad luck to the man, who invented the alphabet; oratory is composed of two parts, weeds and flowers; the weeds of metaphor are the roots of Rhetorick; and the flowers of phrase compose the nosegay of Eloquence. A set of Philosophers are like a bundle of brushwood, when they are lighted up by the fire of dispute, and put into the oven of altercation; then out comes the crum and crust of fair argument.
Inconsidering the impatient ardour of the passions in youth, we might be led to suppose that life was to last but for a day; but the precautions of the aged seem to be such as if it was eternal.
With a relation of the most remarkable occurrences in the life of the celebratedCount Pulaski, well known as the champion of American Liberty, and who bravely fell in its defence before Savannah, 1779.
Interspersed with Anecdotes of the late unfortunateKingofPoland, so recently dethroned.
(Continued frompage 190.)
Pulaskinow communicates to us the design which he had formed of taking refuge in Turkey. He hoped to be employed in a situation equal to his rank and his abilities, in the armies of the grand signior, who had for the two last years with some difficulty sustained a disastrous war against the Russians.
Lodoiska did not appear in the least affrighted at the long journey which we had to make; and as she could neither be known nor sought after, she insisted upon going out to reconnoitre the adjacent country, and at the same time charged herself with the fatiguing but important task of bringing us the provisions which we stood in need of.
As soon as the day appeared, we retired into the wood: hid either in the trunks of trees, or in the thick groves of pines, we waited impatiently for the return of night, on purpose to continue our march. It was thus that, during several weeks, we were enabled to escape from the search of a multitude of different bodies of Russian troops, who were sent out on purpose to discover us, and who pursued us like so many blood-hounds, animated with the passions of hatred and revenge.
One day as Lodoiska, still disguised as a peasant, returned from a neighbouring hamlet, where she had gone on purpose to purchase the provisions which she was now conveying to us, two Russian marauders attached her at the entry of the forest in which we were concealed.
After having robbed, they prepared to strip her. At the shrieks which she uttered we hasten from our retreat, and the two ruffians immediately betake themselves to flight upon our appearance; but we were greatly alarmed lest they should recount this adventure to their companions, whose suspicions aroused by this singular rencounter, might induce them to come and drag us from our asylum.
After a most fatiguing journey, we enter Polesia*. Pulaski wept at leaving his native country.
“At least,” exclaims he with a mournful accent---“at least I have faithfully served you, and I now only go into exile that I may be enabled to serve you again.”
So many fatigues had exhausted the strength of Lodoiska. Arrived at Novogorod†, we resolve to stop there on purpose to give her time to recover her strength. It was our design to remain some days, but some of the country people whom we questioned, frankly informed us,that a number of troops were in motion in that neighbourhood, on purpose to arrest a certain person of the name of Pulaski, who had occasioned the king of Poland to be taken prisoner, and carried off from the midst of his own capital.
Justly alarmed at this intelligence, we remain but a few hours in this town, where we, however, found means to purchase some horses without being discovered.
We then pass the Desna above Czernicove‡; and following the banks of the Sula, we cross that river at Perevoloczna, where we learn that Pulaski, who had been traced to Novogorod, had escaped as it were by miracle, and that the Russian soldiers, indefatigable in their pursuit, were still searching after him, and were in hopes of making him prisoner.
It was now again become necessary to fly once more, and once more to change our route; we therefore instantly made for the immense forests which cover the face of the country between the Sula and the Zem, in the dark retreats of which we hoped to find shelter from our foes.
We at length discover a cavern, in which we were reduced to the necessity of taking up our abode. A she-bear disputes with us the entrance into this asylum equally solitary and frightful: we assail, we kill her, and devour her young.
Pulaski was wounded in this encounter: Lodoiska, worn out with fatigue and distress, was scarcely able to support her existence: the winter was approaching, and the cold was already excessive.
Pursued by the Russians in the inhabited parts; menaced by wild and ferocious animals in this vast desart; destitute of any arms but our swords; reduced in a short time to eat our very horses; what was to become of us?
The danger of the situation to which my father-in-law and my wife were reduced, had become so pressing, that no other fear any longer alarmed me. My personal safety, hitherto so dear to me, did not now suggest itself once to my mind: I felt only for theirs. I resolved, therefore, to procure to them at any rate those succours which their situation required, which was still more deplorable than my own; and leaving them both with the promise of rejoining them in a short time, I take a few of the diamonds belonging to Lodoiska, and follow the stream of the Warsklo.
It is well known that a traveller, bewildered amidst those vast countries, and reduced to the necessity of wandering about without a compass, and without a guide, is obliged to follow the course of a river, because it is upon its banks that the habitations of mankind are most commonly to be met with.
It was necessary that I should gain, as soon at possible, some considerable town in which a few merchants resided: I therefore journeyed along the banks of the Warsklo, and travelling day and night, found myself at Pultava§at the end of four days. During my residence in this place, I pass for a trader belonging to Bielgorod. I there learn that the Russian troops were still roaming about in pursuit of Pulaski, and that the Empress had sentanexact description of his person every where, with orders to seize him either dead or alive, wherever he might be found.
I make haste to sell my diamonds, to purchase powder, arms, and provisions of all kinds, different utensils, and some coarse and necessary furniture; every thing, in fine, which I judged most proper to relieve our misery, and soften our misfortunes.---With these I load a waggon, drawn by four good horses, of which I was the only conductor.
My return was equally tedious and difficult; no less than eight whole days expired before I arrived at the entrance of the forest.
It was there that, terminating my disagreeable and dangerous journey, I was about to succour my father-in-law and my wife; that I was about to revisit all that was most dear to me in the world; and yet I felt none of those transports of joy which such an event seemed likely to inspire.
Philosophers have no belief in forebodings.
Certain it is, however, that I experienced an involuntary uneasiness: my mind became dispirited, dismayed, and something, I know not what, seemed to whisper to me, that the most unhappy moment of my whole life was fast approaching.
On my departure, I had placed several flint-stones at certain distances, on purpose to enable me to retrace my road; but I could not now discover them. I had also cut off with my sabre large pieces of the bark of several trees, which I could not now perceive. I enter the forest, however: I hollow with all my strength: I discharge my gun from time to time, but nobody answers me. I dared not trust myself among the trees and shrubs for fear of losing my way back again; neither could I wander too far from my waggon, which was stored with provisions so necessary to Pulaski, his daughter, and myself.
The night, which now approached, obliged me to give over my search, and I pass it in the same manner as the former. Rolled up in my cloak, I lay down beneath my waggon, which I had carefully surrounded with my larger moveables, and which thus served me as a rampart against the wild beasts.
I could not sleep; the cold was extremely intense; the snow fell in great abundance; at break of day I looked around, and found all the ground covered with it. From that moment I formed the most horrible and the most sinister presages: the stones which might have pointed out the path I was to have taken, were all buried, and it appeared impossible I should ever be able to discover my father-in-law and my wife.
(To be continued.)
*Polesia is a name given to the palatinate of Breste in Lithuania; Breste, Briescia, or Bressici, is situated upon the banks of the river Bog. T.†There are several towns of this name in Russia. This seems to have been Novogorod Welicki, or Great Novogorod, the capital of a duchy of the same name. T.‡Czernicove, or Czernikou, is a considerable town, and is the capital of the duchy of the same name. It is situate on the river Desna, 75 miles north-east of Kiow. T.§Pultoway, Pultowa, or Pultava, is a fortified town in the Ukraine, famous for a battle fought in its neighbourhood between Charles XII. of Sweden and Peter the Great of Russia. It is 100 miles south-west of Bielgorod from which Lovzinski pretended to have come on purpose to purchase merchandize, &c. T.
*Polesia is a name given to the palatinate of Breste in Lithuania; Breste, Briescia, or Bressici, is situated upon the banks of the river Bog. T.
†There are several towns of this name in Russia. This seems to have been Novogorod Welicki, or Great Novogorod, the capital of a duchy of the same name. T.
‡Czernicove, or Czernikou, is a considerable town, and is the capital of the duchy of the same name. It is situate on the river Desna, 75 miles north-east of Kiow. T.
§Pultoway, Pultowa, or Pultava, is a fortified town in the Ukraine, famous for a battle fought in its neighbourhood between Charles XII. of Sweden and Peter the Great of Russia. It is 100 miles south-west of Bielgorod from which Lovzinski pretended to have come on purpose to purchase merchandize, &c. T.
Thereare few subjects which have been more written upon, and less understood, than that of Friendship. To follow the dictates of some, this virtue, instead of being the assuager of pain, becomes the source of every inconvenience. Such speculatists, by expecting too much from friendship, dissolve the connexion; and, by drawing the bands too closely, at length break them. Almost all our romance and novel-writers are of this kind; they persuade us to friendships, which we find impossible to sustain to the last; so that this sweetener of life, under proper regulations, is, by their means, rendered inaccessible or uneasy.
Friendship is like a debt of honour: the moment it is talked of, it loses its real name, and assumes the more ungrateful form of obligation. From hence we find, that those who regularly undertake to cultivate friendship, find ingratitude generally repays their endeavours. That circle of beings, which dependence gathers round us, is almost ever unfriendly; they secretly wish the term of their connexions more nearly equal; and, where they even have the most virtue, are prepared to reserve all their affections for their patron, only in the hour of his decline. Increasing the obligations which are laid upon such minds, only increases their burthen; they feel themselves unable to repay the immensity of their debt, and their bankrupt hearts are taught a latent resentment at the hand that is stretched out with offers of service and relief.
Plautinus was a man who thought that every good was bought from riches; and as he was possessed of great wealth, and had a mind naturally formed for virtue, he resolved to gather a circle of the best men round him. Among the number of his dependents was Musidorus, with a mind just as fond of virtue, yet not less proud than his patron. His circumstances, however, were such as forced him to stoop to the good offices of his superior, and he saw himself daily among a number of others loaded with benefits and protections of friendship. These, in the usual course of the world, he thought it prudent to accept; but, while he gave his esteem, he could not give his heart. A want of affection breaks out in the most trifling instances, and Plautinus had skill enough so observe the minutest actions of the man he wished to make his friend. In these he ever found his aim disappointed; for Musidorus claimed an exchange of hearts, which Plautinus, solicited by a variety of claims, could never think of bestowing.
It may be easily supposed, that the reserve of our poor proud man, was soon construed into ingratitude; and such, indeed, in the common acceptation of the world it was. Wherever Musidorus appeared, he was remarked as the ungrateful man; he had accepted favours, it was said, and had still the insolence to pretend to independence. The event, however, justified his conduct. Plautinus, by misplaced liberality, at length became poor; and it was then that Musidorus first thought of making a friend of him. He flew to the man of fallen fortunewith an offer of all he had; wrought under his direction with assiduity; and by uniting their talents, both were at length placed in that state of life from which one of them had formerly fallen.
----
Anhappy sensibility to the beauties of Nature should be cherished in young persons. It engages them to contemplate the Creator in his wonderful works; it purifies and harmonizes the soul, and prepares it for moral and intellectual discipline; it supplies an endless source of amusement; it contributes even to bodily health; and as a strict analogy subsists between material and mortal beauty, it leads the heart by an easy transition from the one to the other; and thus recommends virtue for its transcendent loveliness and makes vice appear the object of contempt and abomination.
Fromthe impassioned feelings of the mother, to him who stands joyless on the verge of apathy, the tide of affection flows in a long and devious course. Clear, full and vehement, it descends into the vale of life, where, after a short time, becoming tranquil and serene, it separates into many branches; and these, again dividing, wander in a thousand streams, dispensing, as they move along, the sweets of health and happiness. That no felicity exists independent of a susceptibility for these emotions is a certain fact; for to the heart of him who hath been cold to filial or fraternal duty, the soothing charm of friendship and of love will ever be unknown. It is therefore evident, that to be happy, man must invariably consult the well being of others; to his fellow-creatures he must attribute the bliss which he enjoys; it is a reward proportional to the exertion of his philanthropy. Abstract the man of virtue and benevolence from society, and you cut off the prime source of his happiness; he has no proper object on which to place his affection, or exercise his humanity; the sudden rapture of the grateful heart, the tender tones of friendship, and the melting sweetness of expressive love, no longer thrill upon his ear, or swell his softened soul; all is an aching void, a cheerless and almost unproductive waste: yet even in this situation, barren as it is, where none are found to pour the balm of pity, or listen to the plaint of sorrow, even here some enjoyment is derived from letting loose our affections upon inanimate nature. “Where in a desert (says Sterne) I could not do better, I would fasten them on some sweet myrtle, or seek some melancholy cypress to connect myself to. I would court their shade, and greet them kindly for their protection. I would cut my name upon them, and swear they were the loveliest trees throughout the desert. If their leaves withered, I would teach myself to mourn, and when they rejoiced, I would rejoice with them.”
NEW-YORK.
On Monday the 28th ult. at Smith Town (L.I.) by the Rev. Mr. Hart, Mr.Elkanah Smith, merchant, of this city, to MissMary Arthur, of that place.
On Tuesday evening last, by the Rev. Dr. Moore, Mr.James Parkin, to Mrs.Rebecca Clarkson, both of this city.
At Boston, on the 11th inst. by the Rev. Dr. Thacher,Ezekiel Brush, Esq. merchant of New-York, to MissSally Shattuck, daughter of Wm. Shattuck, Esq. of that place.
----METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.From the 20th ult. to the 10th inst.Thermometorobserved atPrevailingwinds.OBSERVATIONSon theWEATHER.6,A.M.3,P.M.6.3.6.3.Nov.deg.100deg.10020547555ne.do.cloudy high windrain2148505225e.do.foggy light winddo. do.22465045ne.do.cloudy raindo.23363650nw.do.clear lt. winddo. high wd.2430503550nw.do.clear lt. winddo. do.25285032w.do.clear lt. winddo. do.26225029w.do.clear lt. winddo. do.27215027w.nw.clear high winddo. do.28253375w.sw.clear lt. windcloudy do.29275037n.nw.clear lt. winddo. high do.30334050sw.nw.clear high winddo. do.Dec. 129752950sw.nw.cloudy light winddo. do.222503250n.do.cloudy light winddo. do.3307537n.w.clear light windclear do.4323750sw.w.cr. h. wd.cloudy lt. wind53644w.do.clear high wd.do. do.6364575w.do.rain light winddo. do.7355084nw.se.snow 3 inches deep8285031nw.do.clear light winddo. do.9265033nw.do.clear light winddo. do.102934w.do.cloudy light winddo. do.RESULTS OF METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.FOR NOVEMBER 1796.Mean temperatureof the thermometerat sun-rise3874Meando.of thedo.at 3 P.M.4560Do.do.for the whole month4234Greatest monthly range between the 19th and 27th3525Do.do. in 24 hoursthe 172150Warmest day the195675Coldest do. the27215It rained a little, or rather misted four days.14Days it was clear atsun-rise, and 3 o’clock8Do. it was cloudy atdo. do.Two days it was foggy16Do. the wind was light atdo. do.4Do. the do. was high atdo. do.23Do. the wind was to the Westward of north and south.7Do. the do. was to the Eastwardof do. do.The 9th, 10th, and 11th, the Atmosphere was darkened, with apparently thick smoke, which for most of the time, obscured almost the sun, and caused the sky to be very dark, a very uncommon phenomenon, and 8 days the Mercury at sunrise, was below the freezing point.
----
From the 20th ult. to the 10th inst.
FOR NOVEMBER 1796.
The 9th, 10th, and 11th, the Atmosphere was darkened, with apparently thick smoke, which for most of the time, obscured almost the sun, and caused the sky to be very dark, a very uncommon phenomenon, and 8 days the Mercury at sunrise, was below the freezing point.
For theNew-York Weekly Magazine.
“Full many a gem of purest ray serene,“The dark, unfathom’d caves of ocean bear;“Full many a flow’r is born to blush unseen,“And waste its sweetness on the desart air.”Gray.
“Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
“The dark, unfathom’d caves of ocean bear;
“Full many a flow’r is born to blush unseen,
“And waste its sweetness on the desart air.”
Gray.
Thebrightest rays of genius failTo guard its sons from earthly grief,Wisdom alas! can naught avail,Or to the suff’rer yield relief.The sons of Genius hapless race,To often are the sons of woe;The dreary path of want they trace,Or to the grave unheeded go.Such,Burns, was thy unhappy fate,Such the reward of worth like thine;The muse deplores thine humble state,Which thy bright talents could confine.Offspring of nature—self-taught Bard,Thy memory respect commands:And though on earth thy lot was hard,Thy shade th’ applauding lay demands.To thee, the muses lov’d to bring,The sweets of Poetry refin’d;’Twas thine in humble strains to sing,The mild effusions of thy mind.Seduc’d by nature’s pleasing sway,Her influence fashion’d ev’ry line—Her beauties shone throughout thy lay,Her beauties made the lay divine.But many a gem, both rich and bright,Th’unfathom’d caves of ocean bear:And dark seclusion hides from sightFull many a flow’ret, sweet and fair.ALEXIS.New-York, Dec. 6, 1796.
Thebrightest rays of genius fail
To guard its sons from earthly grief,
Wisdom alas! can naught avail,
Or to the suff’rer yield relief.
The sons of Genius hapless race,
To often are the sons of woe;
The dreary path of want they trace,
Or to the grave unheeded go.
Such,Burns, was thy unhappy fate,
Such the reward of worth like thine;
The muse deplores thine humble state,
Which thy bright talents could confine.
Offspring of nature—self-taught Bard,
Thy memory respect commands:
And though on earth thy lot was hard,
Thy shade th’ applauding lay demands.
To thee, the muses lov’d to bring,
The sweets of Poetry refin’d;
’Twas thine in humble strains to sing,
The mild effusions of thy mind.
Seduc’d by nature’s pleasing sway,
Her influence fashion’d ev’ry line—
Her beauties shone throughout thy lay,
Her beauties made the lay divine.
But many a gem, both rich and bright,
Th’unfathom’d caves of ocean bear:
And dark seclusion hides from sight
Full many a flow’ret, sweet and fair.
ALEXIS.
New-York, Dec. 6, 1796.