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YPSILANTI SENTINEL, VOLUME III NUMBER 18. YPSILANTI, (Mich,) WEDNESDAY MAY 27, 1846. WHOLE NO. 122 CHAS. WOODRUFF, Editor axp Proprietor. TERMS. te Dollar and fifty cent, if paid in Advance; oth erwise Two Dollars will invariably be charged. BATES OF ADVERTISING. Tor one square, 14 lines or less one week, $0 50. u for subsequent insertions perWeek 25. POETRY. The following beautiful lines, if we recollect right, were written by a patient i one of our Lunatic As. yluma at the east. SLEEP AND SPRING. Oh! for that sweet untroubled rest, That poets oft have sung Like babe's upon its mother's breat, Or bird's upon its young; The heart asleep without a pain, hen shall I sleep thai sleep again? When sh a 1 1 I be as I have been, Upa.t my mother's breast, Sweet Nature's garb of emerald green, To woo my form to rest: Lone in the meadow, field and glen, And in my native wilds again? The sleep within the fallow field, The herd upon the green, The larks that in the thistle shield. And pipe from morn to e'en; Oh! for tie pasture, field and len, Wnen shall I fed such rest again? I love the weeds anions the fen More sweet than garden flowers. For freedom haunts the humble glen That blest my happy hours: Here prisons injure health and me. I love sweet freedom and the tree! The crows upon the swelling hills, The cows upon the lea, Skc4 feeding upon the rills, Are ever dear to me, 'Because sweet Freedom is their mate Whilst I am lorn and desolate. I loved 'he winds when 1 was young, When life was dear to me; i loved the Song wiiib Nature sung Enduring liherty; I loved the woods, the vales, the s'ream, For there my boyhood used to drejin. There toil itself was ever play, ' 1 w .s pleasant e'en to werp; 'Twasjoy to think of dreams by d-y The beautiful of sleep. When shall 1 see the wood, the plain, And dream those happy dreams again? THE GIFT OF TUB DUMi. From the Italian of Redaelli ; dictated, when he was dying, to the lady ot his love, lo whom he returned at the same time, a withered flower which ht had plucked from her bosom not long before. TRANSLATED BY W. Gtf.MtJRE SIMMS. Take, love, this witJier'd flower, It bears my dying breath ; IJear, ere my hps' iast power Be yielded up in death. How precious to my breast, Since ravish'd first from thine, Thou knowest and canst attest By all lie truth in mine ! Proot of my rapture then, But rapture n..w no more ; Ah ! take the flower again, Which, dying, 1 restore. And whi'e thy breast, Irom whence 'Twas ravish'd, feels lor me. Think how'iwas snatth'd fFom thence And now restored lo thee. MISCELLANY. PROFESSION, NOT PRINCIPLE. BY T. S. ARTHUR. "Profession is not Principle' I learned this years ago, and have seen k verrfred hundred of times since. Who has not? Neither is profession reli gion. How often, too, have I proved this. The best men I ever knew were those who made few pro fessions. The internals with them were pure as well as the externals. I take no pleasure in making the exposures which follow, but where truth may do good I never hesi tate about telling it. It is always painful to per ceive a deviation from profession in those who make a show of religion. Christianity has suffered more frcm the irregularities of its pretended friends, than the assaults of its open enemies. There are thotr aands who have taken upon themselves no vows,who are purer in heart and more upright in actions than many who press forward to the altar. This is a sad truth. A few doors from my residence, whem a boy,lived Mr. T -, a boot-maker. He was a member of the church, and a loud professor. Regularly ev ery morning and evening he assembled his family for worship, and in the private meetings of the Church members he prayed loudest and longest of any. I of ten observed hira during the services of the Church on the Sabbath, and was forced to remark the air of piety and devotion which he exhibited. At first I was led to believe him a good man, but a little in troduction into the secrets of his business transac tions as I grew older, convinced me that he made religion a means of securing worldly emoluments and honor, rather than Heavenly riches and divine honors. It was only necessary to ask his apprenti ces his character,to understand some of his claims to religion. A really good man is rarely, if ever, the subject of abuse by those under him, they spare not the pretender to virtues which he does net possess. Mr. T was one of those who profess to con sider Heavenly riches as infinitely more valuable than sordid gold, but who by all their actions, illus trate the truth of the remark with which we started, "that profession is not principle." He was not con tent with working his apprentices hard, and keep ing them poorly clad and poorly fed, but he gained his penny whenever he could, no matter who lost the penny pr to whom it most belonged. I will give an example of his dealing in this latter respect. A colored drayman brought him a load of leather from a house far down town. After the leather was unloaded, the following dialogue took place: 'Well, old fellow, (as the drayman was old at feast sixty) what's to payf 'Three fips, sir.' 'Here's a 'levy. I never pay but a 'levy a load. You cant take me in.' 'Indeed, massa, can't take less than three fips. That's Ibe reg'lar charge, and I always gits it.' ' Nonsense! here take your monev, and don't stand palavering there.' Can't indced,massa. You knows that aint enough. 'You black nigger! do you say that I want to cheat you' 'No massa, but three fips is the reg'lar charge for a load, and I cant take less. I could'nt make a liv- : look at the other side of this. in at a 'levy.' j Mrs. had always been delicate. When a girl 'Well, Fa not to stand here fooling with you. ; Bfte never coud sew long at a time without getting If you dont take this, you'll get nothing.' j a pajn jn her side. She married a hard-working in- 'Can't take it, massa. All or none, is my rule. dustrious mechanic, whose trade was not very lucra I wont cheat by asking too much, and I wont be tive, yielding barely enough for support. Her health, cheated.' after her marriage, was but little improved, and Then you get none.' j when with several small chili' r"a she was left a wid- 'Well, I can give you three fips if you are suffer- ow, she yielded, in her first anguish of bereavement, ing.' And the independent old fellow got on to his , to despair. But a mother cannot sit long in idleness dray and drove off. when her dear babes are about her. She could I was standing at the door at the time, and wit- think of no way of getting a living for them but nessed the whole proceeding. The unjust man tur- by her needle, and as she was a neat. sewer,she hoped ned as the dray rattled eff, but I could see no com- to get work, and earn food an scanty clothing at punction on his hard face. least. But she could get no work. No person A few days after I witnessed a similar scene,which knew her who wanted sewing done. She applied to I will also describe. Another dayman brought him a barrel of flour and a keg of butter from the wharf. As usual, the eleven penny piece was tendered. 'The price is three fips, massa,' said the negro, smiling. 'Nonsense! here, take your money; think I dont know the price?' 'Indeed, indouble, massa! dat's too little.' 'Here aint you going to take your money? You'd better.' 'Massa, if I had plenty of money and what I'd call plenty aint much I would'nt care about a ftp. But my old 'oman's been sick for three months, and I got five little chileren, and sometimes I cant hardly get enough for 'em to eat. A fip could buy a loaf of words of Mrs. T had robbed her of that chance: bread, and that would go a great ways.' ' 'You can stitch the collars and wrist-bands of those, 'Here's your 'levy, if you are going to take it. any hw, vou can afford it, I suppose, they iron If your wife is sick, that's no reason why you should be,ter when that is done.' The simple and touch be an extortioner. If you are in want, beg, and not in2 'Yerf ma'am!" but in a sadder tone than usual, cheat.' I was the only response. The poor negro said no more, but took the little j Next morning she was up early, though her head piece of money and went off. I witnessed this scene ache(1 batlly? antl was faint and weak, from hav too. How mv young' hot blood did boil. On that same evening I heard him. at a niiMi prayer meeting in the Church, address the "cod and holy Lord, and with vain repetitions, make a long prayer, as if he were to be heard for his much speaking, instead of for his pure heart and upright purpose. How can such men read the Word of the Lord, and ti.en hope to be received hereafter into the Heavens, where love to the neighbor is pure and per fect? Mr. had five apprentices, each one of these .uaitj I , he had taken from the Alms House, because, as he j . , , , . .. I said, parents and friends are alwavs troublesome to a master mi , . ... , - They were a coward, spiritless, and, if I they were te be believed, a half starved set. Their clothes were poor and dirty, and they were ashamed to appear at the Church on the Sabbath day, or to go into decent company. At meals, they were allow- ; anced in many articles, such as butter, meat, &,c.at breakfast and supper times; and in bread at dinner , time. A single slice of bread was all each received during dinner. Potatoes were good. The boys were loud in their complaints out of doors, but dared ! not say much within. In so large a family as that of Mr. T there was a good deal of sewing to do, and ovt of charity the work was taken from a seamstress who had sew ed for the family some time, and given to a poor widow woman with several small children. Osten sibly only was this charity. Really, it was to save a few more pennies. How could this be? some ore will ask. Let me sketch a little scene; premising that this poor woman's husband was just dead, and she left helpless and friendless, with no apparent means of support. Besides she was in feeble health. By accident Mr. T had heard of her distressed situation, and at the suggestion of the individual who named her case to him told his wife that he thought it would be charitv to give her some sewinc. 'I think it would, indeed,' says Mrs. T .' 'Our sewing costs us a great deal,' responds the careful husband,' 'and in this thing we may benefit ourselves as well as do a deed of charity . No doubt this poor widow is rather an indifferent sewer in cotnparason to MissR.and therefore her work will not of course be worth so much. And she will,no doubt think one half the price Miss R. gets a good one.' 'No doubt,' chimes in the frugal partner. Mrs. is sent for. After she is seated, the fol lowing conversation takes place. 'Can you do plain sewing?' 'Yes, ma'am, as well as most persons,' 'What is your price for fine shirts?' 'I haven't set any price yet, but I will work as low as any one.' But you know that to get work you will have to I do it lower than ordinary. Peonle don't like to I t w r change.' f 'Well, madam, I am in want, and will work at al most any price for my children.' 'I suppose you will make fine shirts for a quarter?' 'Yes, ma'am.' 'And callico dresses for the same?' 'Yes, ma'am !: That's reasonable. Boys' common 6hirts you'll ( not charge only eleven pence for?' 'No ma'am!' That's reasonable, and I'll do all I can for you j It gives me pleasure to belD the poor. Come down j to-morrow and I'll have some work ready for you. i The widow departed. I Well, wife,' says Mr. T- bursting in when he saw the woman depart 'at what price will she worK 'At just half what Miss R. charges!' Well, that's something like. It gives me pleas- j ure to befriend any one who is willing to work at a j reasonable price. Why, this will Bave us almost a , dollar a week the year round.' j 'Yes, it is so: and if I keep her at it, or some one else at the same price for a year, you'll let me have a fifty dollar shawl, wont you' Yes, if you want it.' Well, I'll do my best. It's shameful what some of our seamstresses do charge!' It is often well to reverse a picture. Suppose we several, and was still without the means of earning a dollar when her last one was spent. Just at this 6ad moment, the fact of her destitution becoming more known, Mrs. T. sent for her. As she carried home her work, the day after the interview, she was glad at heart with the thought that now there was a way of escape at least j from starvation. But little more her yearning heart could promtse her. Boys' shirts at twelve and a half cents were her first pieces of work. Two of these, by close application, she managed to get done in a day. Had they been made perfectly plain, she could have finished them earlier, and had time to give ma- n.v necessay attentions to her children : but the last ing sat so steadily through the whole of the prece HfcT tier child. en were all taken up, ding dav. Her childien were all taken up, washed and dressed; her rooms cleaned, a scanty meal of mush and milk prepared for the little ones, and a cup of ' tea for herself. Her own stomach refused the food of which her children partook with keen appetites, and she could only swallow a few mouthfuls of dry j state bread. It was near ten o'clock when she got fairly down to work, head still aching so intensely as almost to I 1 blind her. Somehow or other she could not get on fast, and it was long past the dinner hour before she , , had finished the first garment. The children were . . . . , milium, ill. iui men nicai, aim cut uuu i. me.- g...v K . . , . . , - UaSie III vrVUUlUM ii, ao nvu iui hoi ooiioiovhuii w to gain time. 'Mother, we're getting most tired of mush and milk,' said one of the little ones. 'You don't bave all the good thing now you used to. No pies, nor puddings, nor meat.' Never mind, dear, we'll have some nice corn cakes for supper.' You'll have supper soon, wont you, mother ?V said another little one, coaxingly her thoughts busy with the nice corn cakes. 'And shan't we have molasses on them?' said an other, pushing away her bowl of mush and milk. 'No, dear, not to-night ; but to morrow we'll have some.' 'Why not to-night, mother ? want some to night ?' 'Mother has no money to buy it with to-night, but to-morrow she will have some,' said the mother soothingly. O, we'll have 'lasses to-morow for our cakes," tiried out a little girl who could just speak plainly, clapping her hands in great glee. After dinner Mrs. , worked hard, and, in much bodily pain, to finish the other shirt, in which the last stitch was taken at nineoclock at night. Soon alter breakfast the next day she took the four shirts home to Mrs. T. her thoughts mostly occupied with tho comfortable food she was to buy for her children with the half-dollar she had earned. For it was a sad truth that she had laid out her last cent. After examining every seam, every hem, and ex pressed approbation of the work arlrl handed the poor widow a couple ot fine shirts to make for Mr. T. and a calico dress for herself. She dfh not offer to pay her for the work she had done. After lingering a few moments, Mrs , ven tured to hint that she would like to have a part of what she had earned. Oh dear ! I never pay a seamstress until her bill amounts to five dollars. It is so troublesome to keep account of small sums. When you have made five . ,. dollars l will pay you. ,M retired, hut with a heart that seemed like lead in her bosom. 'When shall I earn five dol lars' Not for a whole month at this rate,' were the words that formed themselves in her thoughts. 'We shall have the molasses now, mother, shan't we ?' said two or three glad little voices, as she en tered her home. For a few moments she knew not what answer to make.Then gathering them all about her she explain ed to them,as well as she could make them, understand the lady for whom she had made the work did not pay her, and 6he was afraid it would be a good while be fore she would ; anJ that until she was paid, she could not get them any thing better than what they had. The little things all stole silently and without a , murmur away, and the mother again sat down lo her work. A tear would often gather in her eye as j she looked up from the bright needle glistening in her fingers,andtoted the Badness and disappointment pictured in their young faces. From this state of gloomy feeling she was roused by a knock at the door, and a pleasant looking iady, somewhat gai'y dressed, came in with a small bundle in her hand. She introduced herself by saying that she had just seen some very neatly-made shirts at Mrs.T I 's j and that she was so well pleased with the work that j she had inquired for the maker. 'And now having found you,' she said, 'I want you to make and fit this calico dress for me, if you do such work,' 'I shall be glad to do it for you,' said she, encour- aged by the kind and feeling manner of the lady. And what will you charge ? Mrs. 'Mrs. T- , hesitated a moment, and then said , gives me a quarter of a. dollar !' There was a bright spot for a moment on the' cheek of the lady. Then I will give you three,'said she with warmth j Mrs. , burst into tears; she could not help it. 1 'Are you in need V inquired the strange lady,hes- itatinglv, but with an air of kindness that could not be mistaken. For a moment the widow paused, but the sight of fifty dollars more rent on the house. This was borne her children conquered the rising emotion of pride. j with also, for it was better than to move. But when I have nothing but a little corn meal in the house, fifty additional were demanded, under the impression and have no money.' j that the tenant would consider it more than a loss of A tear glistened in the stranger's eye her breast fifty dollars to move, he could stand it no longer, and heaved with a strong emotion. Then again all was sought another stcre. This store did not prove te still. J be a good stand, which so troubled the young man's I will pay you for this dress beforehand, then ; ' mind that, from neglecting his business, he became and as I want it done very nice, I will pay you a dol- unsteady, and in the end failed. lar for making it, can I have it by day after to-mor- With Mr. T. , it was a common practice to row ?' j jaigg on au his tenants a sum just large enough to Certainly, ma'am to-morrow evening, if vou want make them feel that it was better to pay it than it ' I j- u , move. The dollar was paid down, and the angel of mercy No one who knows the writer will feel disponed departed. More than one heart was made glad that to accuse him of wishing to throw disrespect upon morning. religion. How could he be so false to himself as to Now let us pay a vist to Mrs. T , ; wish to darken the only true light that iighteneth After the widow had departed, a lady acquaintance every man that comcth into the world; which pen dropped in, who made no profession of religion, and e'trates and disperses the gloom of the grave? But who was somewhat fond of dress. Among other he is ever disposed to condemn and hold up to view subjects of conversation,the neatness of the work on all pretenders to that which they do not possess. the coarse shirts was talked over, and the lady learn- One such man as Mr. T , does more real harm in ed the residence of the seamstress, and also that she the world than a dozen open reprobates. was very poor. After her departure, Mr. T j And, alas ' how many such there are. Who does came in from the 6hop, when the following dialogue not know a Mr. or a .Vrs. T ? In what relr took place: gious associations are not those to be found who are Well wife, how did Mrs. Jo her work ?' 1 willing to have faith alone, to trust in faith alone, Very well, indeed, but what do you think ? she and to esteem the goods of this world as more valu she wanted me to pay her a part of the price of ma- ! able than the goods of charity. A purified, internal king four shirts.' love for the neighbor, a love that prompts lo good Is it possible ! that's just the way these poor, ' deeds combined with a calm dependence upon the people always do. They spend a quarter as fast as Giver of eveiT good and P511 gift is tbe oxA7 ie it is earned, and so never get any thing ahead You ! liSion that will make a man fit for Heaven, did not give it to her ?' gaoual Risk of NEWFOUNDLANn above the No, indeed I I told her to wait until it amounted gEA.Tt is a fact worthy of notice that the whole of to five dollars, and then it would do her some good.' the land in and about the neighborhood of Concep- And what did she say to that ?' j tion BaVj verv pr(,bably the whole Island, is rising Oh, nothing, only she pretended to look very j out of the ocean at a rate which promi6ee) at no melancholy, as though she were in a starving condi- 1 very distant day materially to affect, if not to ren tion. But I understand all these things. der U6eless many of the begt harbore we haye n(m Trick and hypocrisy and whining always seom to j on lhe coasl At p0t-degrave a series of obser go with poverty. Was that the gaudy butteafiy .Vrs. vatjons bavebeen made whicn uhdeniably prove the L , who just went out f rapid digpIacement of the 6ea-level in the vicinity. Yes; I do think I have never Known a more word- Severai large flat rocks, over which schooners ly-minded person than Mrs. L. in my life. All she : might 6ome thjrty or forty yearg with thc thinks about is dress and company. She never seems - tmmt facijity are now approaching the surface to reflect that she has a soul to save.' j the water being scarcely navigabie for a skiflr Al Or to be lost, which it certainly will be if she ' p,ace cailed the Cash, at the head of Bay Roberts, does not lay aside the vanities of th.s world. I sup- Hpvvar( of a frQm tfae sea..shore and at 8eye- Pose she never said a prayer in her We. feet aboye itg level covered with five 0r gix 'Not she; if you were lo talk to her of praying, feet of vegetable mould, there is a perfect beach, she would smile in your face.' tbe stones being rounded, of a moderate size, and A sad condition, indeed! How the world lieth in ' in all respects similai to those now found in the the wicked one. The prince of this world lieth in adjacent land--washes. Newfoundland Times. the wicked one. The prince of this world hath ma ny children, and she is one of them.' And yet,' continued the wife, 'she seems utterly insensible to her sad condition, and always changes the subject when I mention it to her.' Of course. And she will go on thus, hardening her heart and stiffening her neck, until she falls into the gulf of eternal ruin. It is sad to think on.' By eating the bread of carefulness,by grinding the poor,and by over-working his apprentices,Mr. T gradually became the owner of property. Of course he was a hard landlord. He owned two or three stores,which were every now and then changing ten ants, for few could stand his grinding injustice. One of these stores had been vacant for some time when a young man, just going into business,and who knew nothing of his character, rented it for three hundred and fifty dollars per annum. That was the highest limit he had set himself in his close calculation of profit. He was a poor, but enterprising young man, and had been assisted into business by a few confiding and firm friends. Not a single alteration or repair would T , put upon the house. After going to about two hundred dollars' expense in fitting up the store, the young man opened for business. At the end of the first year, he found that his profits had been very fair but there were many remnants and pieces of unsalea ble goods on hand which had been paid for, these curtailed his active capital. Cheerful in prospect of his next year's business, and resolved to use even more activity and economy, he put his last quarter'6 rent in his pocket, and cailed on Mr. T - , After the money had been taken,and the receipt given, Jfr. T , inquired after his business; the young man spoke of it as increasing, and said that he had done as well as he had expected. You have no thought of moving, I sup pose Oh, no; the etand is a good one, and pleases me.' Ahem ! Ahem ! I've been thinkine, for some that your rent was too low. A good stand like yours is worth a good deal more money." 'Three hundred and fifty is as much as I can afford to pay, and as much as any of my neighbois pay.' 'Your neighbors pay too little then I must have four hundred and fifty dollars for my store for the next year.' 'Four hundred and fifty !' exclaimed the yourg man, 'I cannot afford to pay that. Besides, it in worth no more th n I now pay.' 'There are many who can and wiH pay four hun- dred and fifty. I must get the most profitable ten- ant I can.' But I have been at least two hundred dollars' ex- pense.' That is your own look out, young man, not mine.' 'So it is, and I was a fool to mention it ! I see that I am yet a learner here.' ! Mr. T , onlv smiled, 'Will you not take four hundred V Not one cent less than four hundred and fifty.' The young man could do but one of two things': remove or pay the high rent. Fearing to risk anoth- cr stand, and knowing that a change would be more loss to him than a hundred dollars, he reluctantly entered into contract to pay four hundred and fifty, Another year passed, and Mr. T . added A Mother's Love. The love of a mother is nev er exhausted, it never changes, it never tires. A father may turn his back on his child, brothers & sis ters may become inveterate enemies may desertjtheir wives, wives their husbands, but a mother's love en dures through all, in good repute, in bad repute, in the face of the world's condemnation, a mother roves on! fitill hones that her child mav turn from his evil ; , rpnfi.. . - - a. 1nfant j -i --i ? smiles that once filled her bosom with rapture, the merry laugh, the joyful shout of his childhood, tho opening promise of his youth; and she never can be brought to think him all unworthy. W. Patriot. A miserly old fellow being solicited to aid in the erection of a school-house, subscribed very liberally. The committee were very profuse in their express ion ot i hanks, to which the old fellow replied Small thanks, gentlemen, if you please I would rather pay for a man's education, than be obliged to pay for his ignorance.' We 6trive as hard to hide our hearts from ourselves as from others, and always with more success; for in deciding upon our own case, we are both judge jury, and executioner ; and where sophistry cannot overcome the first, or flattery the second, self-love is always ready to defeat the sentence by bribing the third: a bribe that in this case is never refused, because she always comes up to the price. Of present fame think little, and of future less. The praises that we receive after we are buried, like the posies that are 6trewn over our graves, may br gratifying to the living, but they are nothing to the dead; the dead are gone, either to a place where they har them not, or where, if they do, they will despise them. Many people talk a great deal of equality, but, while they would be glad to have those above them levelled down, they would not for the world have those below them levelled up. Industry and Economy will get rich, while Sagac ity and Intrigue are laying their plans. A,