POETRY.
THE SISTERS.
From a late number of the Literary Gazette,
we copy the pathetic effusion, which will be
found to follow these remarks, and which is pe
culiarly applicable to » melancholy case of mor
tality, which.has lately befallen a faanly, resid
jng in this vicinity, and which withio a little pe
riod has followed to the grave, two young and
jnteresting sISTRRS.
We would not willingly, barrow up the feol.
{ngs of those who weep over the sepulchre of
the dead, and drop the tear of pity, on the grave
of fullen Yeauty; but whilit we bave read the of
fusion of the “ Two SisTErs,” we have been
forcibly rexinded of its applicability to the cases
of mortalily, to which we allude.
Although life was not more dear to them, than
it is to those who move in the humbler ranks of
life, and who are conteoted amid poverty, still, it
elicits a different feeling, when we behold youth
and beauty, falling before the approuach of death,
and they who have every thing to live for, aud
were beloved and henoured by the world, falling
in the prime of life, and passing off to unknown
world's;—And whilst the fecling heart, lument
the early demise of those who were entitlud to
thoe world’s regard, we are lead to remember,
that all things are uncertain, ard that in the
midst of life we are surrounded by death.—The
author of the poem has prefaced it, with the fol
lowing very apposite quotation from Shakspeaic.
They grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition:
Two lovely beiries moulded on one stem;
80 wilki (wo scewing bodies, but one heart.
Shakspeare.
1 saw them when their bud of life
Was slewly opening inte flower,
Bolore a eloud of care or strife
Had burst übove their natal bower—
FEre this world's blight had marred a grace
That maatled v'er each sparkling face,
What wero they then? Two twinkliog stars—
The youngest of en April sky—
Far, far from earth and earth born jars,
Tugether shining peaceflully-
Now harrowing, dirpersing light,
- Radiant as hope, and ealm as oright! .
Whet were they thes? Two limprl streams
Through life's green vale in beauty gilding,
Miagling like half (orgotten dreame;— .
Now 'aeath the gloom of willows hidmg,
Now dancing o’er the turf away,
Io playful waves and glittering spray.
I 3ee thamas [ saw them they,
With cureless brows and laughing eyes;
They flash upon my soul again
With all their infant witcherios—
Two gladeome s} irits,"sent on enrth
As envoys from the muse of mirth!
Buch fancy’s dreams—but never more
May fancy with such dreams be fed; |
These buds have withered to their core,
Before their leaves had time to spread—
Those stars are fallen from on high
‘Those twin bright streams are ever dry!
While spring was zladdening all the skies
Mid bloon:ing flowers and sunny weather,
Death came to them in geatlest guise,
And smote them, in his love, together!
In concert thus they lived and died,
And still lie elumbering side by side.
.The aunexed humorous articie from the New-
Mentbhly Magazine for September, is a capital
hit at the theory of human perfectibility, and the
notions of the Philosophers of New Warmony,
It was written for the especinl benefit and be
heof of Robert Owen,that celebrated theo: o'ric:.l
visionary, who has, within the last two or three
years, strugglel to establish a community, on
new and abaurd principles, at New [larmony,
lndiana. Whatever may have been the designs
nf Mr, Owen, they have failed to mect with
that success he anticipated, and most of his fol
awers have abjured his government, and re
s turned to the land of their futhers,
From the little observation wo have had of
this Quixotie individual, we have ,been lead to
oelieve, that he has not been aotuated by pure
or proper motives;—we have looked upon him
1« a desperate schemer and adventurer:—a kind
vl a Bir Gregor M’Gregor of a fellow, who, to
s~eumulste woalth, would nct step at anytiiing.
T'he absurdity of his plan, is happily ridiculed in
(\»e Lyrie, which we now copy, and which we
« -mmend to the atlention of such of our readers,
as are fond of such productions.
LONDON LYRICS.
OWEN OF LANERK.
Walcome, welcome, mighty stranger,
To our Transatlantic shore, .
Anchor’d safe from seas of danger
All your fears and doubts are o'er.
Sable Jews and flaxen Quakers
Imitate no more the shark;
Wealth lies planted out in ucres—
Welcome, Owen of Lanai k!
Parallelograms of Virtue,
Haunts from humaa frailty free,
Squnres that Vice can ne’er Jo hart to,
Circles of New Harmony:
Schemes that blossom while we view 'em,
Swamp and Prairy changed to park;
Meum melting into tann—
Wondrous Owen of Lanai k!
All New-York, inTmind and body,
_l"ooll thy influence and a lores;
Bitters, Sangaree, and Toddy
.F'ly her fiftecn hundred stores,
Big Ohio now loeks bigger,
Freedom fans the kindred spark:
Bors no longer scowls on Nigger—
Welcome, Owen of Lavark! A
Larmaras lies down with Dives
Rich and poor no more are seen;
Baltimore one common hive is;
Busy bees, and thou their Queen,
Uncle Ben hy down his rifle,
While his Nephew—prone to bark—
Thanks his stars for * that ’ere trifle,”
Mighty Owea of Lanark!
Failing schemers, ret-ograders,
Lawyers fattening on strife,
Grim back woodsman, bunkrupt traders,
Bquatters brandiabing (he knif ;
Bug Bauks their Cents up-summing
any o Master, muny n Clerk,
Drop tgcir dollars ut thy comiug,
Mighty Owen of Lunark!
Toe to tilled Sirs and Mudams,
Prone Law's blunders to redress,
Washington nor Quincy Adams
Eversaw th?' like, I guess,
Let John Bull's polluted pages
Dub the etaring, dub the stack;
Solen of succeeding Ages,
\Welcome, Owen u('l,uumk!
Vast,l calculate thy plan is
Born to soar where others creep;
Lofty us the Alleghaijes,
As the Missiisippi deep.
As the German Brother’s mingle,
Prone to sing * hark follow hark,”
Al our States, through dell and dingle,
Hail thee, Owen of Lanark!
¢ I've an item,” Boss and Peasant
Feel quite mighty where you stray;
Competence is amniprescut,
Poverty ¢ slick right away.”
See our bipeds, * like all nature,”
Climbing up thy friendly arl,
Dubthee Sovereign Legislator,
Welceme Owen of Lenark!
WINE.
Tha following epigram on Wioe, contains as
much truth, as wit and justice. It is too true
that wine hus drowned a greater number of men
than werd engulphed by the flood,
8o Noah when he aucho *d safe on
T'he mountain's top, his lofty haven,
Aid all the passengers he bore
Were on the new world st ashere—
He made it first his chief design
‘l'o plant and propagate a Vine,
Which siuce has overwhelm’d und drown’d
Far greater uumbers on dry ground,
Of wretchied mortuals; one by one,
‘l'han all the {lood be ore had done,
MIESCELEANY,
TIHIE GENEROUS STRANGER.
George Villars, a young Englishman,
of good birth and large fortune, inherited
from nature all the qualities which, prop
erly cuitivated, can render a man esteem
ed. Life opened upon him in dazzling
colours; rich, amiable, and handsome, he
| was universally courted. Wherever he
went the hand of friendship was extend
ed to him, and the smile of welcome
hailed his approach. Warm-hearted and
couliding, he tiusted entirely to appear
ances, and soon became the duse of an
unfaithful mistress and a false friend.
' Pride sustained him outwardly under the
blow, but it preyod upnn his spirits; he
became disgusted with life, and lost all
confidence in his fellow-creatures. IHad
he consulted his inclinations alone, he
wonld have buried himself in solitude;
but his pride forbade a step which would
have proclamed his wretchedness. He
must live in the public eye; he must show
his contempt, his indifferezce for her
whose remembrance was still agony.
ITe went to Paris, was seen constantly in
the best society, and in all fashionable
public places; and while every day dee
pened his disgust of life, he was envied,
and admired, as the favourite of nature
and fortune.
One night ho wasreturning home earli
er than usual, and on foot; n passing the
Pont Louis XVI, he perceived a man
seated on the parapet holding adog upon
his knees, which he seemed to be fond
ling, for he was stooping over it. Just
as Villar§ came up, he suddenly rose and
threw the animal into the river; but he
had scarcely done so, when he staggered
and fell. Villars hastened to the spot,
and found him in a swoon. He tried,
for some moments ineffectually, to restore
him to his senses; at last he had the sat
isfaction to see life slowly return and at
the same instant a dog, dripping with
water, ran up to the sufferer, and began
to caress him. It was, indeed, the faith
ful creature whom he had attempted to
destroy; but the stone, which he tied
round his ncek with an unsteady hand,
was so badly fastened thatthe dog shook
it off without difiiculty.
It would have moved a harder heart
than that of Villars, to see the caresses
which the affectionate creature lavished
upon his master, as he strove, by plain
tive moans, to call him back to hfe. At
last he opencd Fis eyes, ard fixed them
wildly upon the dog. ‘ Azor! my poor
Azor!” cried he, bursting into tears,
“have I not then destroyed thee?”
‘He has escaped a death which you do
not appear to have inflicted willingly.”
¢ Willingly! ah, no, no! Butl have
na means, none, none on earth! I could
not see him dic of hunger, and I bave
offered him in vain to different pcople.
Will you take him, sir? Do, I beseech
you, do!”
Touched at once by the wretched
uppearance ol the poor suflerer, and the
despair of his tone, Villars said in a
soothing voice, ‘I would not refuse your
dog, did I not think you would like bet
ter to keep him yourself; and I will en
able you to do it, at least for the pre
gent.’
He drew a louis-d’or from his purse,
and placed itin the old man’s hand.
Words cannot describe the burst of grat
itude with which it was received.
‘ You have savedmy lifei’ cried he.
“ Mine! did T say? Ah, a life a thousand
times dearer than mine. My child, my
poor Julia, will now have food.”
¢ He attempted to move, but he tottered
and would have fallen, had not Villars
supported him; nor would he leave him
till he had conducted him to his dwel
ling, which was at no great distance;
and, as he went, he took the precaution
to provide a bottle of wine and a fow
biscuits.
Never did suceour come at a more
seasonable moment: the daughter of the
old man, reduced at once by sickmess
and famine, was nearly exhausted; in a
few hours relicf would Lave been too
late. Villars left his {:me, and taking ‘
the direction of the old man, hastened
to send a physician to his suffering
daughter.
Villars had that night a sound and
tranquil sleep, the first he had enjoyed
tor a long tire. The next day he visit
ed the old man, whom he fouud greatly
restored; and he heard with extreme
pleasure that the physician Led declared
that quiet and good nourishmen were all
that was waunting to complete the young
woman’s recovery. In spite of the
wretchedness of his appearance, the
manner and language of the old man
were those of' a gentleman. His grat
itude had in it nothing servile; it seem
led the frank emotion of a generous
,mind; and belore Villars quitted him, he
determined to secure his old age from
’thc attacks of penury. But, on return
ing home, he found a letter, which, for
the moment, at least, drove every thing
from his mind; his mother, whom he
tenderly loved, was taken suddenly and
dangerously ill, so dangerously that it
was requisite for him to set out immed
iately, if he hoped to find her alive.
He lost not an instant in obeying the
| summous; but just as he was on the point
of departing, he recellected the poor old
man. Ile wrote a hasty hine to account
for not secing him again, gave him his
address in England, and desired to hear
how he went on. Ife enclosed also a
bank note of a thousand (rancs, and sent
the letter by his valet, with directions to
deliver it to the old man himself,
T'he crisis of his mother’s disorder was
Jover when he arrived; she was pro
nounced out of danger. He staid tiil he
saw her perfectly recovered, and then,
unable to remain in a place which
brought to his mind the most painful rec
vllections, he returned to France.
Although surprised, and, in some de
gree offended, at not hearing from his
old acquaintance, Villars still felt an in
terest in his fate. He went to inquire
after him, and was told that he had quit
ted his lodging suddenly, and no onc
knew whither he was gone; his daugh
ter accompanied him, and both were in
perfect health.
“He is like the rest,” said Villars to
himself; ¢no sincerity, no gratitude .
What a fool was I to expectit!” and for
a fuw days he was more gloomy than
usual, Some months elapsed, and he
had nearly forgotten the adventure,when
one day, in crossing the gardens of the
Tuilleries, he saw a lady drop a hand
kerchief—he stooped to present it to
her, and as he did so, a little dog which
was running on before her turned back,
and springing up to Yillars, began to
caress him with great fondness.
¢ Come away, Azor!” cried the lady.
¢ Azor!’ repeated Villars, ‘ can it be?
He looked up as he spoke, and met
the eyes of a beautiful girl fixed upon
him, with a look in whicn joy, timidity,
and surprise, were fblended. She aud
vanced eagerly, as il to speak, but stop
ped short suddenly, and remained si
lent.
‘I cannot be mistaken!” eried Yillars,
“this dog belongs to a person I have
once known.’
I knew it—l was sure of it!”" exclaim
ed the young lady; ‘you are my father’s
benefactor!’
¢ Julia, my dear!” said the other lady,
in a tone of reproof: bhut her accents
were alike unhecded by dulia and Vil
lars, who were each too eager for an
explanation not to be quickly satisfied
that their conjectures were just.
¢ 0, how happy will this make my fa
ther! cried the delighted Julia: ¢how
often has he lamented thathe could rot
discover one to whom he owed so much?!’
¢ How! has he not received my letter?’
- “Never, sir ;—from the moment you
quitted us, we have never heard of you;
but will you not go to sec my father ?
We live so near, so very near !
Villars wanted no second invitation ;
he accompanied his fair guide to her
habitation--but what a different habita
tion from that in which he had found
her !
In an clegant apartment of one of the
handsomest hotels in the Rue Rivoli,
Villars was received by the object of his
bounty with the most lively joy, and the
the most touching gratitude. Far from
having forgotten his benefactor, Delmot
had made every effort to discover, him,
though he had never received the last
proot of his regard—--for the valet had
kept back the letter, for the sake of ap
propiating to himselfthe bank-note which
il contained.
They passed the day together, and in
the course of it Villars learned from
Delmont the vicissitudes of his life. VWe
shall give them in his own words.
“A few years ago I was one of the
richest merchants in Lyons, and one of
the happiest men in France—perhaps I
ought to say, in the world. Every thing
prospered with me, I enjoyed excellent
health, had, as I thought, many sincere
friends, and a dutiful and affectionate
child, who was at once the pride and the
Joy of my life. Nextto that dear daugh
ter was a friend, in whom I placed im
plicit confidence; I had known him more
than thirty years; I had ofien served
him, and I always found him punctual to
his engagements. One day he came to
ask me for a sum of money much larger
than any I had before lent him. I com-,
plied withont hesitation, and he went
away, promising to return to supper, ‘
‘ We waited for him for some time:
at last we sat dowa to table, and just as
we did so, one of my neighbours enter
ed with horrer in his countenance, ‘Ah,
heaven!” eried he, abruptly, ¢ poor Mer
cer has just shot himself.’
¢ Never shall 1 forget my feelings in’
that terrible moment; the fatal news was
indecdftrue. The unfortunate man had
been for a leng time secretly addicted
to gambling. Seeing himsclf on the’
brink of ruin, he determined to make a
desperate effort to retrieve his affairs;
he failed, and, wanting the courage to
face ignominy in this world, he rushed
iuto the presence of an offeaded Deity.
¢ This was the beginning of my mis
fortunes; grief and horror overwhelmed
me; Isunk under the weight of my feel
ings, and a violent fever reduced me to
the brink of the grave. While I was
suffering under it, losses came thick up
on me, and, with the return of health, I
found myself a beggar; nay, worse, for
I owed a large sum, which I could not
pay. My Julia inherited her mother’s
fortune, it was settled upon her ont of
my power to touch; but ne sooner did
she learn the state of my affairs, than,
‘unkown to me, she surrendered every
shilling to my creditors,’
~ ‘Noble girl!” eried Villars.
- ‘Noble, indeed; but how was her con
duct appreciated, where most it ought to
have been felt? She had a lover; they
were brought up together, and I believed
him truly attached to her. T knew that
her aliection for him was only taat of a
‘ sistecy but she ceded to my wishes, and
consented to give him her hand; the day
was fixed, when miy illnesss delayed the
marriage; but neither Julia nor myself
ever doubted his truth., No sooner did
he learn that she had given up her in
heritance, than he wrote her an eternal
farewell?
1 “The scoundrel??
~ “So I called him. Julia uttered no
’mproach; her cheek was pale, but her
voice did not faiter, when throwing her
self into my arms, she exclaimed, ‘Fath
[ er, from this moment we have nothing
in the world but each other!?” We quit
ted Lyons. I sought employment in
Paris; 1 found it; my salary was scanty,
but Julia’s industry at needle work added
a little to it; and if we were not happy,
we were at least content.
¢ But Fortune hnd not done persecu
ting me; the loss of my place, and the
illness of my daughter, reduced us tothe
state in which yon found us. Your be
neficence relieved us from certain death,
Ah! never, from that hour, have we ad
dressed a prayer to heaven, in which
you were not remembered!
‘A few days after Providence had sent
you to our assistance, we received intel
ligence of a mest unhoped for reverse
of fortune. The lover who had so cru
elly deserted my child was dead, and re
penting of his conduct, had left her the
whole of his immense property. He
had no near relatives—thus nothing hin
dered us from profiting by his will; but
but™ve lost no time in returning again to
Paris, where only we could hope to dis
cover you. 'T'ill to-day, our researches
have been unavailing, 'Thank heaven,
we have at last found yon; it was the
only thing wanting to our felicity.’
Villars replied only by grasping with
fervour the haad that Delmont extended
to him, and from that day they were in
scparable.
Treated by Julia with the easy free
dom of a sister, Villars believed, during
some time, that he regarded her with an
affection merely fraternal. Happy in
her society, he never thought of asking
himsell whether he could be happy with
out it, but the moment came in which
he was obliged to put the question to his
heart.
One morning when he went as usual
to Delmont’s, he found him alone, and
more thoughtful than eommon.
‘Have you not something on your
mind, my dear sir,’ said he, ¢ which ren
ders my company just now importunate
to you? Ifso, tell me at once to be
gone.’
“On the contrary, T shall tell you to
stay, for 1 want to consult you about a
proposal I have just received for Julia.’
“A proposal for Julia!
¢ Yes—what is there in that to sur
prise you?
¢ Nothing, nothing,” stammered Vil
lars, ‘only I thought—that is, I did not
think'——
He stopped; Delmont looked at him
inquiringly, and finding that he did not
proceed; he finished the sentence in his
own way:
“You did not think, I presume, that
my child ever meant to marry. Well,
what her determination may be, I can’t
tell you; but at any rate, the Count St.
Maur is very anxious to learn it. You
know more of him than I do, tell me
what yon think of him ’
Villars hesitated; he knew nothing but
good of the Count, and yct he could not
bring himself to say so. At last he ut
tered, with effort,
“I believe him to be a worthy man;
but who is there that can deserve Ju
lia?’
¢ You are partial, Villars; my daughter
is a good girl, but there are many who
deserve her.’
‘I don’t know one! cried Villars,
warmly.
‘I do; there is a man whom I should
select for her from all others—but I do
not know that she would be his choice,
and I own it would hurt me that my
child should be refused.’
¢ Refused! Julia refused! impossible!’
There was no need of more; the look
and the tone were sufficient,
* She is yours,’ cried Delmont; ¢ why
did you not ask me for her at once?’
But what said Julia? Her tongue
said nothing, but her eyes and lier blush
es |¥.oko sufficiently. * Villars received
her hand, and declared himself the hap
piest of men. It is what all newly mar
ried men say; but the husband who re
peats it, as our hero does, at the end of
ten years, has a right to be believed.
THE TIME FOR WRITING.
Night is the best time for study, but
morning is the best time for committing
the fruits of our studics to paper. In
the carly dawn, while the sluggard yet
turns upon his bed, and yawns for ato
ther nap, the inductrious student, or au
thor, should be up, with pen in hand,
and committing his thoughts to paper,
for his own future use, il nol for the
press, and for the good of mankind. It
is 1n the morning, if' ever, that we find
ourselves fitted for the labour of compo
sition. The stillness of the season—the
general calm serenity and salubridy of
the atmosphere—the renovated vigour
of our physical, and the cheerful state
of our intellectual powers—all combine
to promote the flow of our ideas, and [a
cilitate their correct and vivid expression.
Our spirits seem to rise with the sun,
and our imagination to soar with the ea
gle, who wings his flight with that bril-
Lant orb. The perplexities of the day,
the various culls to which we are sub
ject, according to the nature of our oc
cupations, have not come upon us; and
we are left to those calin reflections, and
delightful reveries, which improve the
judgment, exalt the imagination, and
meliorate the heart. When we hear the
birds begin to sing, or perccive the first
ray of hght through the lattice, then is
the time to rise; then is the time to sit
down to the labors of the desk. The
rising luminary of day reminds us of the
great luminary of the universe, and
conveys our thoughts to him as the
source of all light, of all wisdom. In
such a state of mind, under such be
nign influences, our genius is quicken
ed, our judgment is strengthened, our hu
man affections are expanded, and cur
labours cannot fail to benefit ourselves,
if they do not redound to the good of
our country, and of mankind. Rise,
then, with the lark, and anticipate the
sun, il you wish to enjoy health of body,
and elasticity of mind, and to combine
these in laborious and useful efforts to
promote human happiness and prosperi
ty.
Extract of a Letter from a Young Lady.
It" a young lady cannot bear reproof
without sullenness, and disappointment
without repining, what are we to expect
of her when placed at the Lead ol a fam
ily, to guide and direct its concarns ?
Truly the education of too many females
ol the present day scems diametrically
oZposite to all that advances the hap
piness of domestic lile. T'o attract the
admiration and shine abroad, appears to
be the principal object, as though they
were destined for no higher purpose ;
like the ephemeral fly, they flutter awhile
and are seen no more. What a lamen
table circumstance, that the admirable
picture drawn by Solomon, should not
have been more frequently imitated. Al
the refincments which wealth and luxury
have introduced since the foundation of
society, will never have power to do
away the influence of those domestic
virtues which the inspired penman has
so beautifully delineated in the last chap
ter of Proverbs. Oane reason why the
domestic virtues are so much neglected,
is the love of show and external parade.
When once alove of tashionable pleasure
steals upon the affections, it is in van
to look for the growth of those virtues
which require a keeping at home. IFash
ion dethrones judgment, and lays her
empire in the dust. When once the
affections begin to entwine around the
idol, the soul is fascinated with a kind
of enchantment, which it seems impossi- ‘
ble to resist, until it becomes a vrey to
the most violent passions; which like a
garden grown up with weeds, presents a
most gloomy prospect for a future day.
TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS REWARD.
(’N Friday afternoon, a young man, who
calls his name Elijjah Fenno, borrowed
of the subscriber, residing in Smithfield, (R. 1.)
a suit of new broadeloth Clothes, and a new
cotton Umbrella, with which lie has abscond
ed. He had been residing in Smithfield for
about four months, and worked at the stone
hewing business. He is about six feet high,
thin, pale complexion, downcast look, about
twenty years of age, and has a scar on
his cheek, and another on his throat. A fow
days previous to his absconding, he passed
scveral counterfeit notes,
He left Smithfield in company with an Irish
man named James O'Neal, and probably
travelsin company with him.
Whoever will apprehend said thief, and give
such information as will lead to conviction,
shall receive the above reward, or one half for
the restoration of the property,
Oct 17 ELIJAH CLARKE.
'FRUIT AND ORNAMENTAL TREES, &ec.
- Rt%y STEPHEN F. MILLS & Co.
J-‘f[jr, & (late Prince & Mills,) have for
= res* sale at their old American Nursery,
s Flushing Landing, near New-York,
a large assortment of the most approved
American and Europoan sorts of Apple, Pear,
Peach, Plam, Apricot, Nactrian, Cherry, Al
mond, and Quince Trees, &c¢. The selections
of the varicties and additions are of the most
valuable sorts that can be procured, with a
general assortmont of Forest Trees and Flow
ering Shrubs, &c.; Peach Trees—a large
assortment of Peach Trees, of vigorous
growths, and perfectly healthy,
The Fruit Trees offered for sale, are either
graftedor inocvlated, and are propagated from
such Exotic or American varieties as have be
come most celebrated. The prices of the
above Trees have also been reduced. Orders
left or sent at No. 85, Westminster street,
Providence, R. I. (where cuulosuoo may be
had) will be particularly attended to,
HENRY G. CARPENTER, Agent.
October 17 tr
THE OBSERVATORY.
TH E Lessee of this fashionable place of re
sort, respectfully informs the public, and
citizen strangers, that it is now open for the
Spring and summer seasons. It is situated on
an eminence which commands a beautiful view
of Narragansett Bay and the adjacent coun
try; and is admmedyby all who have visit(d it
to be a delightful place of resort. Attached
to the Observatory, are two excellent Bowling
Alleys, not inferior to any in Rhode-lsland.—
The Bar is supplied with the best liquors that
can be procured, and other refreshments such
as Fruits, Pastry, &c. Every attention will be
paid to those who visit the establishment; and
affords an agreeable walk, particularly to
gentlemen strangers who visit the town for ob
servation and amusement. The Observatory
will be kept open from 7 o’clock, A. M. till 9,
P. M. J. BARTLETT.
may 12,
NEW GOODS,
At Nos. 1 and 3 Pawtuzxet-street.
BARKER & WARDWELL have just re~
plenished their stock of Hardware,fromn
the last importations which, with their former
stock on hand, makes their assortment very
generally complete, which they offer as usual,
o: accommodating terms, both for cash or ap
proved credit. Grateful for past favours, they
solicit a continuance. Sept. 26
ALLEN & BELCHE?R,
OFFER for sale, a quantity of Black Lead
Pot, of a superior quality. Also, a com
plete assortment of Smith’s celebrated Bench
Planes and Moulding Tools, together with a
general assortment of Hurdware, which will
be sold on favourable terms.
Oct, 3.
‘WE, the subscribers, having been ap
pointed by the Hon. Court of Probate
of the town of Providence, in the county of
Providenee, Commissioners to receive and ex
amine the claims against the Estate of Thomas
Reynold’s, late of said Providence, deceased,
represented insolvent, do hereby give notice,
that three monthe, from the 10th of September,
are allowed the creditors of said estate, to
bring in and prove their respective claime; and
that we will attend for that purpose, at the
store of William Woodward, Jr. in said Provi
dence, on the last Monday in September, Oc
tober, and March, at 1 o’clock, P. M.
CHRISTOPHER C. GODFRY,
WILLIAM R. PHILLIPS, 2 Com’rs
WILLIAM GARLIN.
All persons indebted to said Estate, are
hereby called on to make B:\)'ment to
WM. W. WOOWDARD, Adm’r.
September 22,
THIE MANUSCRIPT.
I{UTCHENS & CORY, No. 1, Market
M. street, will receive subscriptions for the
Manusctipt, published in the city of New York
It will be a collection solely of original Es
says, Tales and Disquisitions, suited to the
taste of the gravest and liveliest reader. They
will be purely American, and executed in the
best typographical style.
Terms—The Manuscript will be publisked,
and delivered to subscribers, on the first of
every month, at four dollars per annum; or
two dollars semi-annually in advance.
N. B. the September and October numbers
may be examined as above. October 10
FRESH SUPPLY OF BOOTS & SHOES.
N.H’I'II.H.N'IEL BROWWN & CO. No. 51,
Westminster-Row, have just received, 20
packages of Boots and Shoes, direct from the
most approved manufactories, consisting in
part of gentlemen’s fine and common calfskin
Boots; seal skin ditto; men’s thick cow-hide
ditto, very superior quality; gentlemen’s thick
and thin Shoes, all qualitios; ladies’ kid and
morocco Walking Shoes; lace and strap pru
nella ditto; lace and strap ladies’ kid, morocco
and prunella Boots; misses, boys and children's
Boots, Bootees, Shoes and Pumps of every de
scription, i
The above, added to their stock on hand,
makes a complete assortment, all of which are
offered at very reduced prices.
Also, 300 pairs of ladies’ morrocco Walking
Shoes, of very superior quality, warranted, at
Gs. per pair; children’s calfskin Boots, at 26
cents per pair; and many other kinds cheaper
than ever before offered.
Purchasers are particularly solicited to call
and examine before purchasing elsewhere.
October 13. is.oaw.3w.
THE TOKEN - FOR 1828.
S G. GOODRICH and BowLEes & DEAR
¢ ronr~, Boston, will publish carly in No
vember, THE TOKEN, A Christmas and
New Year’s Present.
This work is intended to emulate the beau
iful volumes which appear annually in London
under the titles of ‘Souvenir,” ‘Amulet,” ‘For
get Me Not,” §e. The contents consist wholly
of Original Pieces, in prose and verse. The
embellishments, thirteen in number, are exe
cuted by American artists, of the first rank.
A prize of one hundred dollars for the best
Tale, and the same for the best Poem, were
offered by the publisher. A large number of
communications hive been consequentl; re
ceived, many of which, with the prize pieces,
will appear in the volume. The decision nfthe
committee, sclected to award the premiums,
will be announced on the day of publication.
I's Bow Les & DeAreorn, No. 72, ash
ington street, Boston, are proprictors and pub
lishers of the above work for the N. England
States. Orders are to be addressed to them
accordingly. Boston, October 5
SPANISH LANGUAGE.
D FRANCISCO B. CASAS, respect
* fully informs the ladies and gentlemen,
of Providence, that he has tuken a Room at
No. 49, Cheapside, up stairs, and is readv to,
commence his School for the instruction of'the.
Spanish Language.
f=Should a sufficient number apply soon, a.
class of young gentlemen will be instructed in,
the gvening. October 10
NEW GOODS.
lUST received at No. #, Market square,
®¥ from New York, superior blue Cloths; do.
brownZand olive do; mixed 2nd drab do; blue
and brown goat’s hair Camblets; do do come
mon do; Flannels, Plaids, Bockings, Pad
dings, Serges, Duffls, &c. &c. for sale by
Oct 138 3t LARCHER & HATCH.
PAVIILION.
THE suhreiber has the pleasure of informe«
ing his friends and the publie, that owirg
to the liberal patronage he has received, he hes
been enabled to make several improvements to
this clegant resort for genteol company. A
suite of apartments have heen fitted up expressly
for the accommodution of private families, where
they ean enjoy undisturbed, the finest scencry
upon Narragansett Bay. Asrespects the sour
ces clamusement necessary 1o a pluce of this (.le
scription, they will be under such a regulation
as to render it wortl:'y of being ealled the Na-.
hant of Rhode-ls'and.
May 9, BENJAMIN T. FOSTER.