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Western courier. (Ravenna, Ohio) 1837-1838, May 18, 1837, Image 1

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EDITED AND PUBLISHED
EVERY THURSDAY,
BY EDWIN IS. SULBY.
Ravenna, Portage County, Ohio.
Two Dotumper annum, in advance.
Two Dolubs & Fifty Cents in six months
Tbbki Dollies at t)i end of the year.
A nrsRTifiBo: as agreed on by the publisher
Of Hie papers in the County of PurlJge.Junuary
1I836
.For the first three insertions, one square
one dollar ea h additional insertion twnly
five cents. For one square, per annum, ten
dollart. For one-fourth of a column, ffletn
dollars. For half column, twenty do'lars
For one column, thirty dollar). ,
-oetrp.
From Ihe Saturday Courier.
THE POET'S SONG,
The babbling brook, the zepnyr's s;gh,
Wc-flower just opened to the sky,
The blushing morn, its meUjw light,
"8oft twilight wasting on 'lie night
The evening's calm, lis quiet close,
- When frem his toil the labourer goes.
The falling leaf, the voiceless glade
The song departed, and the sha'le,
The gathered flower, its snowy tomb,
Its transient Iifi and early doom,
The whitened locks and silent tuars
Of winter on the' tread of years.
The lightning's flash, the frowning cloud,
The thunder tramping deep and loud,
Old Osean'surging to the shore,
The angry tempest sweeping o'er,
The darken'd east, the glowing west,
The lulling of the winds to rest.
The heights above, the depths beneath,
The hawthorn green and barren heath,
The vallies light, the mountains shade,
.The cataract's fall, the sort cascade,
Earth, air, tho strsam that gurgles by,
The gems of night upon the sliy.
The joys of home, its cheerful hearth,
Where better nature hath i's birth,
A mother's love, the voice of prayer,
Vrem hoping infant's kneeling there,
A father's blessing on m poured,
While he that made us crowns tho board,
The patriots fire, that voici that breaks
XJpon our slumbers, and awakes
Our country, and the tide that fills,
The freeman battling for his hills,
Her stars unfurled that drink the light,
And wave in glory o'er the fight.
The widow's sigh, the orphan's tears,
The flowerless passage of their years.
That hand unseen upon tho sky
When the dark storms are passing bv,
That eye that ence far sorrow shed
XJpsm the memory of the dead.
Greece, noble Gr.-ece, trui valor's sons,
Then mopylae atd Marathon,
Rome and her s'ately Senate halls,
Defend i ul Carthago, falls,
A tyrant's terror, and the steel,
A Brutus's hand) alone can wield.
These are the drops of heavenly fire,
To wake the chords and sweep the lyre ;
A Saviour's love, be (his my theme,
fie this the gushing mountain s'ream
Whence angels draw immortal song,
Forever fluwing deep and strong;
The man of sin, his dreadful doom
D.ep down in uncreated gloom,
The end of time (he saints got home,
From the four winds nation's come
With songs f triumj h, to record
The victories of their risen Lord, J. L.
THE COBBLER OF BRUSA.
A TURKISH TALE.
In the reign of Bajazot the First, there
lived in Brusa (that city being then the
capital of tho Turkish empire) a poor
cobler, whose nan:e was Eskigi Meimet
Effendi. This worthy artizan inhabited
a smalt house, containing but one apart
ment, situated in the foot of Mount Olym
pus. Tho chestnut and piano trees with
which the sides of that sn wenpped moun
taia are covered, overshadowed his hum
; ble dwelling and offered a cool retreat du
ring the sultry summer days. Numerous
streams and mineral springs, reflected in
their transient bosoms,the lofty scenery by
which they wore surrounded, and gave
birth to plants and flowers of brilliant hue,
and aromatic odour. The shepherd, as if
fearful of disturbing the crystal surface
of. the waters, drives his flock to some
distant summit, from which he looks down
at his ease upon the prospect beneath him;
and the birds, whoso nests arc among the
neighboring trees, hardly ruffle the mir
ror like currents 'with tho light dip of thier
. wings.
It was in the midst of ssencry like this
that Eskigi Meimet Effendi had fixed his
habitation. The routine of his lifo was
simple and regular. Early in the morn
ing, he would go one or two miles into
the city, and bring home all the old shoes
he coold collect from his customers. He
would, then take his bench, with his awl
And lap-stone, beneath some largo tree,
and tie re work merrily at his trade. In
this way, ho managed daily to earn a
few paras, which were barely sufficient
to support himself and his famijy, consist
ing, of a wife and one child. But boing
accustomed during the day to the beauti
ful sight around Mount Olympus, he
ould not remain content in his humble
a'pmicfl 'at night without having a great
Vol. XIII. No. 2.
number of lights burning in his presence.
Consequently, after purchasing a few of
the indispensable necessaries of life, ho
would spend tlip remainder ot his small
pittance in oil.
After the prayer of sunset, which the
Turks call axam jiamas, the honest cob
bler would prepare his illumination.
Then, having taken his supper, he would
chat with his wife, smoke his chibouque,
and thrum on his guitar, whiles his child
danced to the sound. Sometimes he would
sing to tho full stretch of his lungs, ac
cording lo the Turkish fashion. At the
" iahi," or fith prayer, which took place
two hour3 after sunset, he would retire to
bed.
, In those times tho Turkish emperors,
accompanied by some, officer of distinc
tion, were often in the habit of walking
in disguise, sometimes by day and some
times by knight, so that seeing with their
own eyes, and hearing with their own
ears, they might truly know tho wants
and dispositions of their subjects, and
take their measures accordingly. Now
it happened that Bajazet the First, in pass
ing the domicil of Eskigi Meimet Effendi,
had often been amazed with tho brilliant
illuminations nnd the very loud songs of
that patriotic cobbler. Consequently, one
evening tho Sultan and his Vizier, having
assumed the costumo of dervishes, stop
ped before the house, in which many lights
seemed to be burning, and knocked at the
door. A voice from within asked, "Who
is there V The two illustrious persona
ges of the empire replied that they wero
dervishes, who in the name of God desired
hospitality. Eskigi Meimet Effendi an
swered by telling them to waita few mm
utes, till he found means of concealing
his wite, it being, as every one knows,
contrary to the cuntoms of the Turks, to
admit a man into the presence ol their
wives, unless he be n near relation. The
poor cobbler was puzzled how he should
dispose of his better half. But being un
willing to refuse hospitality to his visiters,
he- thought it best to fix up the counter
pane in one corner of the apartment, as a
sort of screen, behind which his wife
might retire. Having done this in the
neatest manner he could, he opened the
door to his two guests. After the "selam
alekim," or usual salute of tho Turks, ho
placed before them a piece of bread and
chocsn, tho remnants of his scanty sup
per, and a bowl of pure water. Then
succeeded the nargele or hubble-bubble, a
pipe of scrpantine form and dimensions.
The Grand Seignor.after partaking lightly
of the proffered civilities of his host, ask
ed among other inquiries, the naturo of
his vocation. Eskigi Meimet Effendi re
plied fully to all his questions, adding,
that his only pleasure after tho labor of
the day was over, was at knight to have
his house brilliantly illuminated, and to
talk, dance, nnd sing with his wife, and
child, thanking the Almighty for all he
had done, and was doing, and more par
ticularly for having placed at the head of
tho nation so wiso and great an emperor,
for who-ie life, conlinuodthe cobbler, "my
wife and myself constantly pray, and un
der whose reign we hope to die."
After some further conversation Eikigi
Meimet Effendi retired into his harem, or,
more literally speaking, behind tho coun
terpane, -and left the sofa for his two
guests. At sunrise, after tho sabah
namns, or prayer of tho morning, the
Grand Seignor and his Vizier, quitted the
humble abode, where they had passed tho
night, for tho palace. On their v,ay, Ba
jazet converged on the subject of their vis
it, nnd remarked with how little a man
might be happy, alluding to tho example
of tho cobbler, who with a few paras,
barely sufficient to purchase necessary
food, had his illuminations, his music and
dances, and believed himself tho very
happiest of men.
" I wish," said tile Vizier, " that your
Highness would issuo orders forbidding
all cobblers' shops from being open and
all cobblers to mend shoes until further
notice, under the penalty ol death. Bv
this means we can make the experiment,
whether the happiness of Eskigi Meimet
Effendi depends upon circumstance, or
whether he would retain hii good spirits
under a reverse of fortune." The Grand
Seignor was pleased with the suggestion,
and tho tulas or public criers were imme
diately sent through all the streets in the
city, to proclaim, that, " By order of
tho sublimo Porte, all cobblers' shops
must bo closed, and no cobbler must work
at his trade, until further notice.
Eskigi Meimet Effendi was in tho bazar
of B ruse, collecting old shoes, when he
heard this proclamation. Qu'tting his
customers, ho returned home hastily to
his wife, and told her the order of the day,
asking, in a tone of despair, what they
wero to do at night for their illumination!
But tho good woman thought it a more
proper subject of inquiry, what they were
to do for bread, and believed that the
prospect of starvation was worse than be
ing without lights during the evening.
After a brief consultation with his wife,
tho poor, cobbler concluded that the best
thing he could do to obtain a little money,
would be to take a basket and spado jupon
his shoulders, and sock employment in
RAVENNA, (Ohio,) THURSDAY, MA7 18, 1837.
removing the dust from tho houses and
court-yards of the rich. In this occupa
tion he succeeded beyond his hopes, mak
ing twice as much money as he could
cobbling old shoes; and he returned home
with more oil than usual for his illumina
tion, together with a leg of mutton, which
had been roasted in a "kiabapsi" or cqok
shop.- After lightening up his house in
quite a brilliant manner, he took supper
with his family, and then as usual began
to sing lustily.
The Grand Seignor, wishing to see
what effect his proclamation would have
upon the cobbler, that evening again as
sumed the disguise of a dorvish, and with
his Vizier appeared at the door of Eskigi
Meimet Effendi, and requested hospitality.
As soon as he had taken the same pre
caution with his wife, that he had deemed
necessary the night before, the cobbler
admitted his visitors into the house. The
usual salutations passed between the. i,
and the host set before them the remain
ing piece of mutton and bread. On being
asked the news of the day. he mentioned
the proclamation of the public crier, his
own new employment his increased prof
its, and the splendor of his illumination.
The honest cobbler frankly owned that
he could not cxatly understand the object
of the proclamation - perhaps it would
soon be made known but lio conjectured
that his highness, tho emperor, had issu
ed tho order for some political end. Much
more was said respecting tho events of
the day, and at a late hour, the party sep
arated and retired to rest.
The next morning, the Grand Seignor
and his Visier returned home, so;tic what
amused with their visit. They immedi
ately caused to be proclaimed throughout
the city, " That no person or persons
should follow the occupation of a removor
of dust, until further notice, under tho
penalty of death." Eskigi Meimet Ef
fondi, who wasat that moment entering
the city with his basket nnd spade, as
soon as ho heard the crier proclaim this
now decree, ran home very much alarm
ed, and with tears in his eyes, made it
known to his wife exclaiming, " what
shall wo io for our illumination?" " Say
rather, what shall we do for bread," was
tho reply. At last the poor man bethought
himself that he would take "a basket and
go up to Mount Olympus to gather aspar
agus. Tho idea was a good one, and that
day he made four times as much as ho
used to when working at his trade. Henow
bought thrico the usual quantity of oil, to
gether with a number of tallow cancihs for
his illumination. He also procured a
bunch of onions, nnd littlo fresh butter
and rice to make a "pillau." With these
he returned homo more content than a
king with his sceptre.
He made, .that knight, the most splen
did illumination ever exhibited in his
house, and not having candlesticks, he
placed the candles in a row over the fire
place, or fixed them into fisuros in the
walls. He clapped his hands with delight,
when ho had completed theso orange
ments. He had hardly finished his sup
per and commenced his usual singing,
when the two dervishes again rapped at
us door. As it is the custom ol the 1 urks
to grant hospitality tostrnngors for three
days, ho thought it his duty to admit his
two importunate visitors once more. Ac
cordingly, having again arranged tho
counterpane so as to form a retreat for
his wife, he opened the door,and his guests
entered. During the conversation Which
now took place, Eskigi Meimet Effendi re
lated how ho had manngod, by the assist
ance ot trod, to provide lor his lamily a
good supper, much of which still remained
for his friends. But his chief delight was
in the magnificent illumination which ho
had found means of exhibiting. He tho't
that even the Sultan had never had so ma
ny lights burning in his palace ; and fi
nally, he considered it pretty evident that
he was tho happiest mortal alive.
The Grand Seignor was pleased, but at
tho samo time a little piqued at the cob
ler's pertinacious good humor. When ar
rived ut his palace the next morning, he
remarked to his Viziur that somo other
method must be adopted in order to effect
their objnet, and that a man who was re
ally determined to work, could always
find employment. The Vizier replied
that he had thought of a plan,, which was
to give tho cobbler an office, and having
detained him all day in the palace, to send
h:m home at n:ght without any money.
Tho Sultan approved of the plan, and im
mediately ordered ono of his ministers to
send for Eskigi Meimet Effendi, and on
his arrival to invest him with the office and
dignities of high sheriff, or 'goliat buehit.'
Messengers wero accordingly despatched
to fulfill this impartial command. ,
On being summoned to attend them to
the palace,tho astonished cobbler began to
shako in his shoes, believing that ho was
about to bo strangled or drowned in a
sack on somo false accusation. Ho kissed
his child and took leave of his wife, who
threw herself in wild dismay upon the so
fa. As soon as he arrived at the palace,
without waiting to be informed of the
cause of his being brought there, ho threw
himself at the feet of the minister, and
implored his mercy. But when the ter-
rificd suppliant was told that he had been f
appointed to the office of high sheriff, joy
and astonishment took the place ol con
sternation and grief. He was sent to tho
bath, and habited in a new and costly uni
form, with a Damascus sword.
Having remained in the palace during
the day, he rode home in the evening, on
an Arabian horse, accompanied by a train
of attendants. They left him at the door
of his house, which he entered alone.
"He found his wife in the position in which
he had seen her last, the poor woman
having lost all hopes of again seeing her
husband. She started up in amazement,
on seeing him standing over hor, habited
in a rich and costly dress. He soon satis
fied her with respect to his visit to the pal
ace, and consoled her for all her appre
hensions. But after he had finished the
account of his adventures, he began to
look melancholy, and said to his wife:
"Alas ! what shall we do for our nights
illumination? I have no money, and we
have neither oil nor candles to burn."
"Nor bread to eat," added his spouse.
Eskigi Meimet Effendi sat musing for
some time upon the sofa. At last, strik
ing his hand upon his knee, he exclaimed,
"1 have it;" and leaving the room, ho
hastened to a neighboring carpenter, to
whom he sold the blade of his Damascus
sword for a considerable sum of money,
on condition that he would mako for him
a blade of wood, to bo fitted to the handle
and delivered early, in the morning. He
accordingly left the sword with the car
penter, and quitted his shop with the mo
ney. Tho worthy high sheriff now pur
chased a large quantity of oil and candles,
and then turned his attention towards bay
ing a variety of food for supper. Return
ing homo he made a most brilliant illumi
nation, while his wife performed the of
fice of cook.
In a short time the Sultan & his Vizier,
in their customary disguise, again knock
ed at the door. Eskigi Meimet Effendi
hesitated somo time about admitting them.
He considered that he was now a high of
ficer of the empire and a man of rank,
and ought not to receive persons of low
degree into his house. But they renew
ed their entreaties so pressingly, that he'
consented to grant them hospitality for
tho last time. On entering they express
ed their astonishment at his new- dress,
and asked him how he had come by it.
His reply was, Xint the distribution of
th rones, and tho shadow of God upon
earth, his majesty, the Sultan, had raised
him to the high office of sheriff; and there
upon he described to them his several ad
ventures during the day. He begged them
never again to take the liberty ot knock
ing at his door, as ho was no longer a
cobler, neither a remover of dust, nor a
gatherer oflasparagus, but nn officer of
the empire, and that ho must bo treated
accordingly. In the midst of his boast
ing, the Grand fjgeignor inquired how ho
had managed, without money, tostil! keep
up his illuminations and tho cx-cob!er,
notwithstanding ms lofty pretentions and
his determination to stand upon his dig
nity, could not forbear telling them how
ho had contrived to raise money, by sell
ing tho blade of. the Damascus sword.
Tho Grand Seignor laughed heartily at
the circumstance, and they s6uf&er
separated for tho night.
Tho Sultan and his Vizier rcachedSirJ
palace at an early hour the next morning-
flic "mollah,"or chief judge was inline
diately ordered into tho imperial presence,
and asked if there was any person to bo
executed that day. It was ascertained
that there was ono individual who was
waiting the punishment of death, in con
sequence of having indulged in some
strictures upon tho government. The
Grand Seignor intimated his will that the
new high sheriff should make his mai Jen
attempt at decapitation on the head of the
prisoner. Preparations for the execution
wero accordingly made' in a large square
near the palace. A vast multitude assem
bled to witness the spectacle. ,
The sontence of death was read in the
presence of the people, who,, on tiptoe
awaited the result. The high sheriff was
ordered to come forward and dohis duty.
That respectable officer approached the
trembling victim and ordered him to kneel
and lay his head Upon tho block. Then
grasping tho hilt of his sword, he ultered
the fol'owing prayer in the hearing of the
crowd round the platform: "O thou, who
art above all human wisdom and all hu
man judgement, if the poor victim, whose
head I am ordered to severfrom his body,
be innocent, turn, I pray thee, tho steel
of my sword into wood, so that I may
commit no injustice !"
Ho immediately unsheathed his blade,
and, to tho expressible amazement of tho
spectators, it was indeed turned into wood!
Tho people fehouted with one acclaim,
"a miracle !" They looked with awe and
admiration .upon the man, whose faith,
they believed had brought itto pass. The
prisoner was rescued amid cheers and
congratulations. 'The high sheriff was
borne along upon the shoulders of the
multitude into the imperial presence. -As
soon as that exemplary executioner
laid his eyes upon his sovereign, ho re
cognized him as ono of the dervishers,
Whole No. C26.
who had so often visited his house of late.
He immediately began to tremble violent
ly, and tear rendered him speechless, lor
ho knew that the Grand Seignor was wcll-i
aware ot the process by which this blade
bad been changed lrom steel into wood.
But the Sultan re-assured hirn, and order
ing him to approach nearer, he signified
to him his promotion to the office of aga,
or governor of a small village near the
capital, with a salary of five hundred
Turkish piastres
It is superfluous to describe the satisfac
tion and delight of Eskigi Meimet Effen
di, at his new accession to fortune. He
prostrated himself before tho distributor
of thrones, kissing his feet, and exhibit
ing every nark of the most lively grati
tude. On his rturn home, he cut so ma
ny capers and sung so vociferously, that
his wife began to suspect that his intel
lect was unhinged. But she 'finally suc
ceeded in obtaining from him an account
of his good fortune. He explained to her
his intentions with respect to his .future
illuminations, which must have been rare
ly surpassed in splendor.
In a tew days he departed with his
lamily lor the seatot government. If tra
dition may be trusted, he ruled wisely and
wcil, equalling, doubtless, in honesty an
nccutcness even the renowned Sancho
Panza.
From the Saturday Courier
THE DEVOTED.
On d late excursion in Ihe Souihwest
em part of the city, I took a slioll through
Raiia.dsoirs Cemetry. It is all but sum
merhere; already this beautiful spot
taking upon itself the green "aibure
of
spring, and the sky, with unclouded blue
encanopiL'8 all. Thete is a stirring
hope and buoyancy of feeling nwakened
by the contemplation ol reviving nature,
The breast feels lighter, and even to Ihe
mourner a pleasant but melancholy smile
is called, on seeing the beautiful decora
lions that cover the allies of their friends.
The changing seasons shadow forth the
mystery ol existence, and is a symbol o
man's bright destiny ; for when he sees
the living princiole springing out of seem
nig corruption, and the energy of vitality
nnlluD L m!! .i r.l I l:r
uwuvv iii uia iiiiuai ui uecay, auu me n.
auig as ii were, out oi aeatu, he recogni.
ses more clearly the promise of his own
eternity.
My attention in walking through this
ucauiilul place, was attracted to a monu
ment, almost surrounded with bushes of
ro?es and honeysuckle, with the inscription
of CHARLES in capital letters, enclosed
wi.nin a Douquci ot rosea. I he monu
ment is of the finest Italian marble, sculp
tured in that charming land of song, sur
mourned witn an urn, on which was a
wreath of flowery so beautifully chiselled,
that they seemed redolent with perfume.
nnd bicathing of life, nnd whose language
denoted undying love and affection.
Charles was a young man of this city ,
the hand of nature had lavished upon him
her choicest gilts, rich in mental endow
menls, and all that is ennobling in man
He saw the beautiful nnd admired Cecilia,
who, from her hours of prattling infancy,
had been tho joy, the solace and the
pride of her idolizing parents. In child
hood, when her innocent tongue had lisp
ed her father's name, when she had clan
bered up to his knee, and with the sweet
infantile endearments which find their way
at once to the heart, had wound her little
arms about Ins neck, had placed her baud
within his own, and run over the lines
which labor and age had impressed upon
them, when the soft velvet of her cheek
reposed upon the rougher one of her f,i
liter, and would gaze in fondness upon
her, and, smiling, bless his darling child.
As she grew up, the darling infant became
a lovely gtrl, with her deep, large, lus
trous black eyes, and cheek, with its deli
cate tint, resembling the leaf of a newly
blown rose, with long and silken tresse
of jet-black buir, that wonted over her
finely-rounded shoulders, descending lo
a w..ist whose delicate symmetry was
pcrfectian Use f. Her eye, which hud
returned her parent's look of affection
with childish simplicity, now glistened
with the beamings of filial love.
Cecilia had attained the age of eighteen,
fresh and as lovely as her own rose-buds;
innocent as fair, she breathed no wish,
knew no desire, that did not centre in her
hon e, Charles was fortunate his love
was returned ; they loved each other ar
dently and purely; their whole feelings
were employed to give utterance to the
sweet truth that they loved each other.
Oh! the happiness, the pleasure of being
beloved I how the pulse quickens, and
the mind seems unladen from the vexa
tious cares of business nnd the bustle of
life ! The animal fiame seems strength
cned.and we pictuie life through "Hope's
wizard telescope" in all the brilliant co
lours of the rainbow, nnd which too often
prove quite as evanescent. Time travel
led on they were levelling in bliss, pure
and holy ; their hearts grew insensibly to
gether. But a change, dark and fearful, came
over this fair scene. Charles, in a visit
to the country, was suddenly overtaken
by a f form, and waa drenched by id tor
ren's. The next day found him on a tick
bed ; a disease ofthe lurgi was tho coin
sequence of hi termerily. The disorder
baffled all the endeavours that wore made
lo slay or alleviate its progress.
0h! who can paint the torture of mind
of that young and lovely girl, waiting day
and night by the couch of bt-r tick friend T
Who like hrr, lo he around hie bed, 10
smooth and adjust his pillow, to place his
cordials and adjust his medicine ? Who
like her, lo watch, lock and sigh over him
so sweet a blessing? It is in affliction
that we sec some of the must beautiful
trails in the chniacter of women ; their
perseverance and attention to anticipate
the slightest supposed wish or want of thar
sufferer; flitting round the room with
noiseless Iread, nnd carefully preparing
every thing that can administer lo bis
comfort ; excluding every ihing that may
disturb his feverish repose. Seated by
the bed-side of the sick, you see her re- .
main through all the watches of the live
long niht, genlly drawing the curiam, to
gaze on the countenance she loves,. or to
meet the feeble gleams of fondness which
shone in eyes that were dimmed with dis
ease ; embracing every opportunity, by
kind nd cheerful conversation, lo distract
the attention of ihe sufferer from hi man
ifold and numerous ills, nnd by uniform
kindness and instant attention lo Die in
nocent caprices of the sick, alleviating
their sufferings. It is here thai woman
di?pla s noi her weakness, but her strength
of attachment which man can never, in its
full inlensily, realize ; it is dependent on
no climate, no change ; it is alike in storm
or sunshino it knows no change:
When we see Ihe aged and friendless
laboring under disease, and death releases
them fi on. their sufferings.it i? not so revol
ting to our feelings but oh when youth,
beauty and vigour, surrounded by all that
wealth can command, are summoned,
when grim death is playing on their vitals,
breaking in upon the happiness of a cheer
ful friend, sending turning fever lo tbe
blood, and torturing the mind to madness,
then, then is death fell and seen in all its
horrors.
A few short monlhs.ar.d Cecilia's dream
of happiness was over ; he for whom sho
livrd died. What sufferings would she
not have endured to have piotrocted his
life? Cecilia lived on. a broken lily;
wept over by her friends, the breathed not
a word of sorrow or complaint, nor utter
ed a single lamentation ; but requested
her friends to bury her in the same grave
with him she had so dear'y beloved, and
that a monument, with ihe inscription of
" Charles" (how simple and expressive !'
upon il, should be procured and placed
oyer theirgrave. Tho glimmering ofthe
vital flame less and less distinct, a kind
Providence in meicy extinguished tho
light, and threw over Cecilia, her virtue
and her devotion the sacred covering of
the tomb.
Ihose whom fate had severed while
living, were joined by death. C. M. W.
From the Grand Gulf rMit 1
HARD TIMES ! HARD TIMES!
Every btdy is cryinjr cut hard time"
the man wilh his thousands, and the man-
witn nis smiling. Even the mendicant,
who was never known to have a dollar
in bis 1 fe .takes advantage of the occasion,
and cries 'hard times' with as much grav
ity as if he were president of Nick Bid
die's bank. By the way, Biddle is very
silent of late ; while the balance of the
world are in distress, l.e is reaping a har
vest oi nign per cents. Every man has
his own reason for this state of affairs.
Curse the Treasury Circular, says the
Whig down with mcnopolies, savs the
Democrat dn General Jackson, says
one out upon ths specie currency, savs
another : Tom Benton should ba hunir.
shouts a fourth j what is this world com
ing to, says a fifth why, says the bal
ance, hard times, hard times.' We have
already arrived at that point, cries a wag
the d 1 himself could not put the
screws to us lighter than they are. It is
amusing to watch the current of reasoning
on this subject ; but as every body is at
liberty, to give their opinions in this
free country, no harm is done, and unless
wo be considered ' aristocratic, we shall
gie our opinion too su hit or miss, here
goes.
In the 1st pjace, n discovery has been
made, heielofore unknown to political
economist's, to wit: that a living is to be
obtained and a fortune made without la
bor. And how is this to be done ? Why,
says the alchymist, by speculation. Bor
row money at 0, 7. 6, and 10 per cent.
nvest it in public lands, and before your
notes beccme due for the money borrow
ed, sell your land for double its original
cost, pay up your note in bank, and pock
et the one hundred per cent. Who made
this discovery, or at precisely what time.
t was made known, We cannot say; but
it has been received and ucted upon as a
standard axiom fjr the last fifteen nr.
wenty years. This discovery had not
been public long, when it was further dls-i
covered that mmey was hard to be bor.
rowed, and accommodations of that kind
could not be obtained by all that made ap
plication. What was to be done. More
banks must be had ; more banks must hn
had; more monty lenders incorporated.
The wheel of fortune was accordingly set
in motion petition after petition throng
ed the legislature of every State, praying
for more banks. Every little village and
town must have its bank, and the largo
cities a score, and mammoth en" at that.
The banks were accordingly chartered,
stock taken un,bilis engraved and put i
i
i
.!":

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