The Washingtonian. [volume], July 12, 1845, Image 1

About The Washingtonian. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1845-1845

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THE WASHINGTON!AN.
fe :i **
VOLUME 1. Devoted to Total Abstinence, Morals, Education, Literature, Useful Arts, Domestic Economy, and General Intelligence, NUMBER 6.
Strictly Tee-total, and Exclusive of all Matters of a. Political or Sectarian Character, and of all Advertisements of Intoxicatlng-drink-selling Establishments.
BY george cochran & CO.] WASHINGTON, D. C., JULY 12, 1845. [fifteen cents per month.
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POETICAL FOUNT.
" Here Nature's minstrels quaff inspiring draughts."
THE DANDY'S LAMENT.
No whiskers yet! no whiskers yet!
And Tom's a pair so black and stout!
in vain I sigh?in vain I fret?
In-vain I try to coax them, out!
1 vow I'm twenty-one or nearly,
And nothing yet upon my chin,
Except a crop of fuz, which yearly
Seems to grow more frail and thin!
No whiskers yet! and no moustache!
Although without a fault my hair;
Not e'en a poor imperial,
To stamp me with a foreign air!
With Beals and Jones I've spent enough,
Besides a fortune with Gouraid;
I've found out. to my cost, their stuff
Is all a humbug, and no go!
No whiskers yet! no whiskers yet!
Good heavens, what can the matter be ?
While every belle makes Tom a pet,
They make no bones of slighting me.
'Twill never do, as I'm alive?
I shall be cut by all the " ton,"
Unless 1 get a whisker false,
And stick a sham imperial on.
Egad I'll do it! and why not ?
For, if the whisker makes the man,
Why won't a false one do as well
As any ? Answer me who can !
I'll do it! then I'll cut a swell!
And since to Fame the once rough road
Is paved with hair, ye gods! 1 then
Shall be a lion a-Ia-mode.
From the United States Gazette.
THE PRINTER'S DOOM.
BY THOS. MACKEEKAIt.
A printer weary and wan,
His face all mortally pale,
As he wearily plodded his homeward way
Before the breaking of early day,
Broke out in bittei wail.
His voice was husky and low,
As though his lungs were gone ;
And he cough'd, and gnsp'd, and cough'd again,
And he press'd his hand on his heart in pain,
While thus his plaint ran on :
" A world of toil is this!
It hath no joys for me :
'Tis labor by day, and labor by night,
By the light of the sun, and by candlc light?
Labor continually.
" Some men have a day of rest,
But Sabbath for tnc is not;
It is toil all the week, and toil on the day
That God has given to rest and to pray?
Lo! this is the printer's lot!
" When I was a boy," lie saidy
" I play'd on the hills of green ;
I swam in the stream?I fish'd in the brook?
And blest was I to sit and look
Unfettered on nature's scene.
" For twenty sad years and more,
My life has worn away
In murky rooms of poisonous air,
When I've yearn'd for a sight of the valleys fair
And the light of open day.
" An innocent prisoner doorn'd,
My heart is heavy within ;
Oh, why should a man untainted by guilt,
Who the blood of a creature never hath spilt,
Be pent, like a felon, for sin ?"
The printer then cough'd and sigh'd?
The stars wore growing dim,
And he upward glanced at the morning sky,
And he inly thought that it was good to die,
And death would be rest to him.
His hoart was tired of beating
He prayed to the-Lord above,
To pity a man whose heart had been riven
By toil, for other men's interest given?
And he wept for his mercy and love.
He hied to his humble home !
His infant awoke to cry,
" Oh, father! oh, mother! I'm hungry for bread !"
And the printer bowed down with aching head,
On his Mary's lap to die.
Oh ye who have never known
The richness that's in a crust,
When nothing is found on the desolate shelf,
And the sufferer's pocket is empty of pelf
Receive my story on trust.
Say in your careless scorn,
What boots the tala to you !
The rhymer who traces these roughly writ lines,
Hath known of such sufferers in other day times,
And the main of his rhyme is true.
Remember this holy truth?
The man who aloof hath stood,
When a heart-broken brother for succor did crave,
And he stretched not a finger to bless and to save,
Is verily guilty of blood!
POPULAR SELECTION*S.
" ftoni grave to gay, from lively to severe."
THE UNLUCKY TREASURE.
A NARRATIVE OF THE SEA.
Our ship was smoothly gliding along over
the gently undulating ocean, towards home,
from the shores of Great Britain. Every sail
was distended by the steady breeze; the sun
was shining brightly, though a sort of haze
hung around the horicon. Tjrelve o'clock
had passed?the latitude and longitude work
ed up, and the chart was spread upon the
cabin table. ? The exact position of the ship
at noon was marked by a black dot, and a
straight line drawn from the point of observa
tion of the noon previous. All of us were
delighted at the day's run, and the day for our
arrival in port was fixed upon as ccrtaiu?al
most. No one seemed to be quite so elated
as our steward. Ilis face was all smiles, his
eyes twinkled with unaccustomed lustre, and
the prospect of a speedy return to his family
excited him almost to craziness. By his un
easy movements, I concluded he had some
thing on his mind, which he was anxious
to reveal, and I gave him an opportunity of
speaking to me privately. He seized upon
the glance, and coming up, whispered confi
dentially that he had found " such a treasure!"
"I've found," said he, " two whole baskets
of Champagne in the run; they belonged to
the former master, and the present skipper
knows nothing about it. Mr. Weathergage,
the second mate, was with me when I found
them; he must have one basket, and I mean
to put the other upon the captain's table
to-day."
"Capital!" cried I. "We'll have such a
jollification !"
No spirits or wine were allowed by the
owners?and when Captain W****# came
down to dinner, he was not a little surprised
to see the table gaily decked out with Cham,
pagne bottles and glasses. Learning that the
wine was a lawful prize, he entered heartily
into the spirit of the scene. The act of demol
ishing soon commenced with activity; glass
after glas9 was poured down and festivity
reigned supreme. Loud roars of laughter
burst occasionally from the steerage, where
the chief mate was entertaining himself on
his share of the prize. He poured forth his
lusty but melodious voice in a sea song, which
riveted the attention ot all in the cabin.
"Such merriment ought not to 'waste its
sweetness on the desert air,'" said Capt. \V.
"I move that Mr. Transom be called into the
cabin, so that we can have the pleasure of his
company."
All hands seconded the motion, and Mr.
Transom was sent for. His appearance in the
cabin was hailed with joy, notwithstanding
his Hushed face, and his unsteady step caused
a laugh and some remarks, to which he re
plied that she (the ship) was "going some
now."
"Is she?" inquired Capt. VV., raising his
glassy eyes to the male's unsteady gaze.
" How did the weather look on deck?"
"Oh, pretty much the same," said the mate;
but the fact was that as he passed from the
steerage he did not look at the weather. His
mind being stupified by the wine, and antici
pating the pleasures of the cabin, he noticed
as he passed neither the black clouds that
were rising up to the windward, rior the heavi
ness of the air, nor the second mate, who lay
asleep on the hencoop.
"Now for that song," Mr. Transom," cried I.
" Fill up your glasses first, and open a fresh
bottle," said Capt. W.
"Yes, yes?a bumper all round," said
another.
Conviviality now had full sway. The pas
sing hours, and the increased motion of the
ship, were alike unnoticed. Wine had control
below decks, and the wind above. A heavy
lurch, and a loud crash, accompanied by low,
discordant sounds, awoke Capt. W. to an in
distinct recollection of his being on board ship.
Springing from the lethargy into which he
had sunk, he rushed on deck. All was dis
order and confusion. The night was pitchy
dark?a tempest howled among the rigging?
fearful seas were breaking across the deck,
which was encumbered by masses of rigging
and spars. Bui one being was visible on deck;
he was at the wheel, and using his best en
deavors to keep the ship before the wind.
The rest of the watch were huddled together
on the forecastle, and part of them lay asleep
from the effects of the remains of the mate's
festivity. Capt. W.'s bewildered brain could
make out nothing of the situation of the vessel.
"Where's Mr. Weathergage? How does
she head ? What the devil is to pay?"?were
the questions hurriedly put to the man at the
helm, by the captain.
"No light in the binnacle, sir!" was the
gruff reply of the seaman, who stood firmly to
his post, though death gaped on all sides, and
drunkenness stood ready to lend a helping
hand.
The awfulness of his situation flashed upon
the mind of Capt. \V., and for a few minutes
he had neither strength ?Bor reason. A deep
sense of impending danger was wrestling with
the demon of drunkenness!?a powerful effort
of the mind threw off the yuke of King Alco
hol, and the seaman was himself again! A
hiccuping attempt of some one in the lee
scuppers, gave him notice of the presence of
another being on deck. To seize the person
and drag him to his feet, was the work of an
instant, and recognizin^Mr. W eathergage, he
dashed him forward, ping upon his head
fearful imprecations. "The shock, together
with the angry tone of his commander's voice,
recalled him to reason. -
"Call all hands!?clear the wreck!" was
the thundering command of Capt. W., hurry
ing at the same time into the cabin, and tum
bling over the forces so lately valorous in the
army of King Alcohol, he dragged the now
inanimate form of the mate on deck, inflicting
upon him a volley of kicks and thumps, which
brought him partially to his senses.
Taking the wheel himself, Capt. W. saw
with terror the confused and stupid attempts
of the mates to do their duty. In the mean
time the sea and wind had been increasing;
high masses of water were pouring from stem
to stern, as the ship made slow progress, en
cumbered as she was by the wreck of spars
and sails. The jib-boom had been carried
away, taking with it the fore-topmast and
main-topgallant mast. To secure the remnant
of the spanker, which had been split, square
in the yards, secure the flying penants of un
hitched rigging, and save the fore-topmast
staysail, was the work of some time, as the
main-topsail was blowing out straight ahead
in ribbons?as was also the mainsail. The
sea continued to gather strength, and rolled
with fearful fury. Unless more headway could
be got on the ship, she must be immersed by
the immense masses that were piled up astern.
The wreck was no sooner cleared, than down
came the main-topmast, carrying with it hall
of the main-mast and the mizzen-topmast,
Preventer tacks and sheets were attached tc
the foresaiJ, pn?l a-?>iecrt, of ?!)*? fore-staysail
set to the foremast head to prevent her broach
ing to. Onward she hied, but faster than the
course of the vessel rushed past the maddened
waves. The foresail split, and the ribbons
ranged out far ahead, and added to our peril
by decreasing our speed. It was too late to
lay to, and scud we must. The sea rolled in
high, steady masses, and as they broke undei
our stern, would shoot us ahead with still
more fearful rapidity, as we rushed over the
top of the sea ; but when we fell into the hol
low, she would tremble, and lay as still as a
babe in its crib; while high above us, ahead
and astern, was the rough-edged sea waiting
to fall upon us and leave not a speck behind.
Immediately overhead, and framed by the
white-crested surge, was the black curtain of
tempestuous night. Fearful was the moment
when we lay in the hollow!?nothing but a
most perfect scaboat could ride out the lury of
the tempest. The highest part of one sea
had swept past us, but one more terrible
than the rest was astern, and as the good ship
rose on it, her head pointing down into the
abyss below, and her stern at an angle of forty
five degrees, the comb of the surge hung like
a canopy over us! It broke?and sweeping
us from taffrail to knight-heads, carried every
thing before it. Our decks were swept?bin
nacle, camboose, boats, and three of the men,
were among the things that were. Onward
at one desperate leap we flew, and again fell
into the succeeding hollow. Another terrific
wave was behind, and as she settled and
almost seemed to gather stern way, we saw
no chance of escape. ^To'lash ourselves to
the rigging was the work of an instant; while
the captain, taking two or three turns of a
! rope around his body and around the wheel,
watched the shock, standing at an angle on
his heels, with his head pointed back, that the
sea might break down upon him and lessen
the chance of being swept away. Like the
former sea, only more formidable, it broke
upon our quarter deck, pouring huge masses
of water upon us. The ship trembled like an
over-ridden racer, and seemed settling away
from under our feet; but the coming waves
were not so heavy. Fear and danger had
sobered all on board; and with the speed that
a case of life and death can compel, w^s a
fore-staysail set. By degrees the day broke,
the storm cleared away?and under jury-masts
we reached New York in forty days.
The papers detailed a long account of the
damage done to the ship R ? and the loss
of three of her crew in a gale?but rum did it!
Boston, January, 1845. L.
There is a Society in Trince Edward county,
Va., which styles itself "Order of Self-Inclined
Bachelors." The girls of course oppose this?
and it is said that one girl has coaxed one of
the chaps to resign. He recanted before a
clergyman?for life.
MY FATHER TAKES WINE.
BY NIMBLE.
Miss Williams is one ol the few young
ladies our city cau claim as a temperance ad
her parents are poor, but respected
by gill that knew themt and to their poverty,
perhaps, may be attributed her pious and
praiseworthy exertions in the temperance
cause.
Miss Williams being an active teacher in
the Sunday school attached to church,
had solicited the superintendent, who was a
favorite temperance man, to allow her to get
the signatures of her class to the temperance
pledge. He gladly consented, and she pro
ceeded to secure the names, until she came to
the fourth young girl in the class, when she
was surprised by the little girl exclaiming,
"My father takes wine and why should not I?"
Miss Williams stood amazed, and replied,
"Surely not, my dear, your father is a clergy
.man."
"Yes, Miss Williams, I can assure you he
does," said the artless child.
"But that is no objection why you should
not sign, and therefore taste none."
" I cannot sign. Pa says the temperance
pledge is only for the poor, who drink nasty
poison, and not for the gentlemen who take
wine."
The faithful teacher felt grieved and pained
to be thus foiled by a child, and besought the
object of her love to put her name to the
pledge, and take it home to her father.
" Oh, no! I love you, Miss Williams, but I
dare not disobey my father; and besides, what
would I drink when I visit Mrs. C., and Mrs.
S., and Mrs. P., &c.; how they would laugh
at me because I would not taste a little wine."
"Ah! my dear," said Miss Williams,
" these are the supporters of your father's
church, and he, poor man, dare not expose
the horrid vice, for fear of his situationand
1 with a tear in her eye, and a heavy heart, she
left the child of the minister of God, and turn
ing to a little pale, half-clad orphan, asked her
' to put her name to it.
The chitd'a eyo sparkled at llio encouraging
voice of her teacher, and with trembling heart
and hand, gladly put her name to the paper,
and felt but too happy that she could oblige
her faithful friend.
The cause of temperance flags for want of
faithful men in high places.
The same high-minded teacher of the rudi
ments of Christianity, has to weep over her
superiors' faults. Superiors, however, in
nothing save a better home and a richer table,
but as far inferior in nobelness of spirit, high
toned morality, and a love of God and neigh
bor, as a corporation light is to- the great orb
of day.?.V. Y. Christal Fount.
From the New Yorker.
TIIE SAILOR HOME AT LAST.
A SKETCH BY IIEV. JOHN DOWLINO'.
It was in the winter of 1842, and during an
interesting revival of religion in a New England
congregation, of which the writer was pastor,
that a pious father rose nearly at the close of
an evening meeting, and spoke, in substance,
nearly as follows: "Brethren, I wish you to
pray for my first born son ! he has been a wild
and wayward youth, but the child of many
prayers. For the last eight or ten years, that
is, from the age of thirteen years, he has been
a wanderer on the deep; he has passed through
many perils and hardships, sometimes been
brought to the very brink of the grave, but an
unseen hand has preserved him. Till within
a few days he has continued careless and indif
ferent to the concerns of his soul, but at length
his mind seems tender, and we have begun to
hope that the Spirit of God is at work on his
heart. But, brethren, to-morrow he sails as
an officer of a ship for China, and exposed as
he will be to the temptations of a sailor's life,
I tremble for his welfare. Brethren, pray for
my first born son !" On that evening many a
heartfelt prayer ascended to God for the said
son, in which the praying father most heartily
joined; but the object of those prayers sailed
on the morrow, without a hope. * *
? Months rolled away, and still the prayers of!
a father and mother followed that wanderer on
the ocean wave, and hope was mingled with
anxiety, doubt, and suspense. A year had pass
ed away, and that father was permitted to ex
claim, "Brethren, rejoice with me, my son
which was dead is alive again; he was lost
and is found." A letter had arrived from that
son, with the joyful news that he had found
the pearl of great price, and had been baptized
in China by the Rev. Mr. Shack, a Baptist
Missionary from America. "O," said he in
this letter, "I have indeed rolled sin as a sweet
morsel under my tongue, but God's protecting
hand has been over me for good." Theu, after
referring to the day of his baptism, " Oh, it
was a day of days to my soul. A lovely, plea
sant morning, and 1 did feel such a sweet peace;
a peace that the unregenerated know nothing
of. Since then I have literally, like the Eunuch,
gone on ray way rejoicing." a few weeks
longer, and the wanderer had returned, and in
the circle of hie friends and home was permit
ted to
* ? * Tell to sinners round,
Wlmt a dear Savior he had found.
Two years more rolled away, * * *
j and now the child of many prayers, the Chris,
tian sailor, under the parental roof, was seen
gradually sinking beneath the wasting influ
ence of consumption. A milder climate was
nought to arrest or to retard the progress ef
decay. But in vain. The sailor returned
home-To die. For a few days, and only for
a few, was he permitted to linger on earth?
and they were days of sadness?days of tears?
and yet they were days of joy_of sweet and
holy remembrances. Peaceful, and calm, and
liaPPy? as ^6 gcnjlc slumbers of childhood on
a mother's breast, was the dcath.bed of the
sailor, lie had long been tossed amidst the
tempest and the storm, and often had his heart
leaped at the cry from the topmast, "Land
ahead;" and now he was just at the end of his
voyage, his eye was on the port, and he could
feel that there was "Land ahead." As I heard,
but a few days since, from the quivering lips
of a tender sister, the tale of the more than
peaceful, the triumphant departure of her sailor
brother, I thought of the language in which a
poet has described the death-bed scene of a
" brother of the ocean."
* * * * *
His heart was on the shore,
Where holy brethren meet at last,
And storms are heard no more.
T gently pressed his feeble hand,
So soon to turn to clay;
And wonder'd if lus heart was monn'd
To meet that dreadful day,
When, as if in my looks he read
The thought?he cried out, "Land ahead 1"
O, he could see beyond the skies,
Beyond the grave could see,
W here mansions of salvation rise,
For such poor worms as he;
And calmly trod the path that led
Up straightway to that " Land ahead."
Farewell to thee, mariner. Thy last voyage
is ended. Thou hast reached the haven of
eternal rest?the port of endless peace. The
SAILOR IS HOME AT LAST.
A SNAKE IN A CIDER BARREL.
In a small and retired village in the north
east part of the State of Connecticut, lives a
wealthy farmer. This man professes to be a
humble follower of Jesus Christ. He is fond
of the intoxicating bowl. His parents are still
living, both of whom a/e strictly temperate?
as are most of the inhabitants of the place.
The blush of shame would mantle his cheeks
were they not bloated with cider. Of this ar
ticle he has long kept a large quantity on
hand. His neighbors at last began to discuss
the subject, as to the quantity he daily con
sumed. All agreed that he was not a tempe
rate man. He was a man of wealth, and the
church must not interlere. Finally he resolved
that no more cider should be drank on his
premises. The glad news of his reform sent
a thrill of joy to many hearts. For a season
he ran well?yet his lace, nose, and mouth,
retained the same sottish aspect as before.
Oh! ye temperate drinkers! ye tipplers! and
all who drink " behind the door," take warn
ing! because your sins will find you out. This
man, so conscientious that he would not have
a barrel of cider tapped in the cellar, procured
a piece of leaden pipe, and sucked cider from
the bung hole. The poisonous qualities of the
lead mixing with the cider, received into his
stomach, all but took his life. With great
difficulty his physician restored him to health.
Tipplers take the friendly warning; never
profess to be what you are not. Death lurks
in the cider barrel.
SOMETHING FOR CLERGYMEN.
The Rev. Dr. Hamilton, who, we believe,
was a member of the late Presbyterian Gene
ral Assembly, held in Cincinnati, at a Tem
perance meeting in that city, related a passage
in his history which no doubt told with thril
ling effect. Many years ago, when quite
young, his mind was first arouted on the sub- .
ject of religion, by a sermon preached by a
very pious and eloquent divine in New Jersey.
A very short time after this, he left home to
commence his education. In the course of
about ten years he returned, and among his
first inquiries was one l'or this minister, by
whose preaching he had been awakened. He
was answered by a dubious shake of the head ;
but persevering in his inquiry, he was told
that, from drinking an occasional glass, he
had gone so far that he was deposed from the
ministry, and finally cut olT from the church, '
and the last intelligence from him was, that
he was expiating some crime in the State pri
son. trow that moment Dr. Hamilton's mind
i was made up on the subject, and he deter
mined, be the sacrifice what it might, to exert
, all his influence to banish the use of itttoxica*
[ ting drinks.?S. C, Temp, Aili.