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The Delaware register, or, Farmers', manufacturers' & mechanics' advocate. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1828-1829, August 15, 1829, Image 2

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn84020593/1829-08-15/ed-1/seq-2/

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ROBERT EMMET.
Ko Irishman can pronounce this name without love and
veneration. Robert Emmet was one of those patriotic mar
tyrs whoso memory will live forever in the affections of his
countrymen—and to whom, the scaffold consecratod by his
hlood, will remain a prouder trophy than the loftiest monu
ment that rears its head in Westminster Abbey.
Previous to his execution, it is said that he requested his
epitaph should not be written until the wrongs of his country
were redressed—until she stood 14 redeemed, regenerated and
disenthralled by the irresistible genius of universal emanci
pation." It is to this mournful request that Moore alludes in
the following beautiful and deeply pathetic lines:—
•* Oh! breathe not his name—let it sleep in the shade,
Where cold and unhonored his relics are laid;
Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed.
As the night dew that falls on the grass o'er his head.
But the night dew that falls, tho' in silence it weeps,
Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps,
And the tear that we shed, though in silence it rolls,
Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
The time to which Emmet so ardently bent his prophetic
vision has arrived. His epitaph may now be written—and
where shall we look for it, but from the pathetic, rich, ani
mated, and patriotic muse of Moore.
The following is an extract from a spiritedly writ
ten essay on Irish Character. It is taken from the
Natchez (Mississippi) Statesman :—
Pierce Butler, born and educated in Ireland, a lin
eal descendant of the celebrated ducal house of Or
monde, possessing an estate of J&5,000 sterling in the
south of Ireland, held a Major's commission in the
British army at tire commencement of our revolution.
Attached to the better principles of the British Con
stitution, when ho had reason to believe liberty was as
sailed, he resigned his British commission, and joined
the American army with tho same rank. He was de
clared a rebel—bis large paternal estate was confisca
ted—and, as if to cap the climax of intolerance for
attachment to the rehcl cause, he was expelled from a
travelling Lodge of Masons attached to his British re
giment. He served with credit and applause to the
end of the revolution. He settled in South Carolina,
and was afterwards supported as a candidate for the
Presidency of the United States by the southern
lion of the Union.
sec
Ife was the only foreigner who
aspired to that elevation. One of his daughters is now
married to Dr James Mease, (the son of another Irish
veteran of the Revolution) whose philanthropy and
literary acquirements shed a radiant lustre over the lit
erature of his country. These are only two out of ma
ny instances of tho most generous, personal and pecu
niary devotion of Irishmen to the cause of American
freedom, at the time when her citizens were branded
with the ignominious name of rebels—when a large
reward was offered for the heads of her warmest pa
triots—when her fate was worse than doubtful.
Mr O'Connel .—The Dublin Evening Post says,
that on Sunday the 8th June, Mr O'Connel left Dub
lin fer Ennis, and as he proceeded through the inter
vening towns was followed, met and greeted by thou
sands anxious for his success. The whole population
of the country in some places seemed to he out, bear
ing green branches in their hands, so that the road
had almost the appearance of a continued grove.—
At the towns where he arrived in the night, the win
dows were illuminated. At Limerick they drew up
a lofty tree before the door of his hotel, in the top of
which several musicians played natiorcl airs. The
people in the mean time gathered about the hotel, and
when O'Connell was ready to set out again, there
about 40/000 persons collected in the streets,
procession moved on, it increased to such a degree
»hat the journalists do not pretend to estimate its
numbers. At the Ennis side of Cratloe wood, O'Con
nell made a short harangue to the people, reminding
them, that at that spot lie first addressed them on the
first election. He made the multitude another speech
at Six Mile Bridge, accusing Sir Edward O'Brian,
who has two sons in Parliament—one representing
the county, the other the borough of Ennis, of having
"broken his promise to support O'Connell's right to
nit in Parliament. For this he said Sir Edward's
were
As the
I
son would walk out of the county, and that when he
got into Parliament he would drag before the coun
try the monopoly and corruption of the borough re
presented by the other son. The declaration was fol
lowed by tremendous cheering.
The multitude now became so dense that Mr O'
Connell's carriage could only move a't the rate of a
mile an hour, and it was near 1 o'clock on Tuesday
morning before lie readied Ennis. Here lie again
harangued the people, observing that he had addres
sed them five times the day before, and four times al
ready on that day—that he was. therefore, exhausted
in body, but that his spirit and resolution to serve
them were inexhaustible.
I
i a
•:o:
Tho Boston Palladium in a notice of the city of New York
eays—" There is one virtue, which the ancients would call
piety, manifested in Now York in a surprising perfection
when compared with that of Boston—the care of the dead,
or the respectable appearance of the burial grounds. In
Boston, we need no othor proofs that death is below ground
in our church Varda, than the decaying uppeuratire of each
memento mari above it. In New York, particularly in Trini
ty and St. Paul's church yarns, the places of graves is sha
ded by the solemn and healthful umbrage of elms and vari
ous oilier kinds of shrubbery; the monuments arc not prone
to eurth, as if the winds of the resurrection had prostrated
them. There is a remarkable cleanliness and beauty in those
yards referred to, which wo might look for in vain in the
Chapel or Granary burial grounds of Boston.
In Trinity church yard, a marble monument has been orcc
ted to the memory of Hamilton, bearing the following in
scription:—
TO THE MEMORY
or
ALEXANDER HAMILTON,
THE CORPORATION OF TRINITY CHURCH HAS
ERECTED THIS MONUMENT IN TESTIMONY OF THEIR
RESPECT FOR
THE PATRIOT OF INCORRUPTIBLE INTEGRITY,
THE SOLDIER OF APPROVED VALOR,
THE STATESMAN OF CONSUMMATE WISDOM,
WHOSE TALENTS AND WHOSE VIRTUES WILL BE
ADMIRED BY GRATEFUL POSTERITY LONG AFTER THIS
MARBLE SHALL HAVE MOULDERED
INTO DUST.
HE DIED JULY 2 , 1804 , AGED 47 .
Near the monument erected to the memory of Hamilton,
inscription on a tomb so singularly and afiectingly
beautiful we cannot forbear to record it and the emotions it
awakened in the bo.-om of a stranger. It is an oblong pile
of masonry eurmounted by a slab of stone, on which arc
deeply cut the following words:
MY MOTHER
The trumpet shaft sound and the dead shall rise.
There are no other letters or characters to be found on the
slab or the pile. If there is one inscription in the thousand
language* that are, or havs been, of earth, fitted to retain its
sublime meaning through every period of time up to the re
surrection morning, it is this. The writer seemed aware that
names would he forgotten and titles fade from the memory of
the world. He, therefore, engraved the name by which he
first knew her who gave him birth, on the stone—and the
dearest of all names—that of mother shall send a thrill
through the heart of every one who may ever lean over this
monumental pile.
there i
PUNCTUALITY.
A mechanic promised to do a piece of work for
me at a certain time ; I called at the time—it was
not done—he had forgotten it, but promised to do it
by 10 o'clock the next day : I called again—it was
not done—" could not possibly get it done"—I dis
charged him, and left what he had done towards it,
on his hands. I engaged another mechanic to do the
same piece of work at a certain time—called at the
time—it was not done—1 discharged him. These
mechanics had violated their word, disappointed me,
(by which I sustained loss, in money and time,) and
lost a customer.—So much for want of punctuality.
I went to another mechanic—he promised to do the
work at a certain time—called for it at the time—it
was ready for me. This mechanic enjoyed the con
sciousness of having kept his word, performed his
contract, and done justice to his customer, by which
he secured not only my work in future but my good
will, which gained him many more customers.— So
much for punctuality.
It is but ten years since tho occurrence of these
things, and during the interval I have marked the pro
gress of these three mechanics. A crisis towards
which the affairs of all three had been gradually ap
proaching, has just been reached : The two first have
lost their business, their little property lias been squan
dered, they have lost their characters and their large
and helpless families are suffering for the necessaries
of life—if you would know their persons, seek for
them in the grog shop—their names, seek for them in
the records of insolvency. The last lias retired wiili
a comfortable independency to a large farm—is bles
I sed by lus family, admired by his friends and posses
ses the good will of all. Brother Mechanics, read
and reflect.
FRANKLIN.
A CANE BRAKE.
The following description of a cane brake i9 taken from
Flint's Geography and History of the Western Siales.
" Every one has seen this reed in the form in which it is
used for angling rods. It grows on the lower courses of tU
Mississippi, Arkansas, and the Red river, from fifteen to thir
ty feet in height. We have sëen some in these rich soils, that
would vie with the bamboo. The leaves are of u beautiful
green, long, narrow, dagger-shape, not unlike those of the
Egyptian millet. It. grows in equidistant joints, perfectly
straight, almost a compact nia9s; and to us, in winter espe
cially, is »he richest looking vegetation we have ever seen.—
The smallest sparrow would find it difficult to fiy amoiurit
and to see its ten thousand stems, rising almost contiguous
ear'll other, and to look at tho impervious roofof verdure which
it forms at its top, if hns the aspect of being a sol d layer or
vegetation. A man could not make three milesin a day through
a thick ennebrake. It ip the chosen resort of bears and pan
thers, which break it down, and make their way into it, as a
retreat from man. It indicates a dry soil, above the inunda
tion; and of the richest character. The ground is never in
better preparation for maize, than after this prodigious
of vegetation is first cut down and burned,
has boon cut, and is so dried that it will burn, it
ment of high hol'd »y to the negroes, to set fire to a cane-brake
thus prepared. Toe ratified air m the hollow compartments
of the cone bursts them with a report not much inferior to a
discharge of musquetry, and t lie burning of a cane-brake makes
the noise of a conflicting army, in which thousands of muskets
are continually dischatg ng. This beautiful vegetable is gen
erally asserted to have a life of five years, at the end of which
period, if it has grown undisturbed, it produces an abundant
crop of seed, with heads very like those of broom corn. Tli«
seeds are farinaceous,and said to bo not much interior to wheat,
for which the Ind ans and occasionally the first settlers have
substituted it. No prospect so impressively shows fhe prodi
gality of nature, as a thick cane-brake. Nothing affords such
a rich and perennial range for cattle, sheep und horses. The *
butter that is made from the cane pustures of this region is of
the finest kind. The seed easily vegetates in any rich soil.—
It rises from the ground, like the richest asparagus, with a
largo succulent stein, and it grows six feet high before the bo
dv hardens from this succulency and tenderness. No other
vegetable could furnish a fodder so rich or abundant,
our view does any other agricultural project so strongly call
for a trial as the annual sowing of cune, in regions too north
ern for it to survive the winter. We suppose this would be in
the latitude of 39 degrees.
to
mass
When the cane
is an
- hO®»«'—
FLOUR IN BURNS.
From various reports of case»- in the foreign
journals, it appears that the application of flour to
the denuded surface produced by burns and scalds is
often attended with great relief, and productive of the
happiest results ; and has sometimes effected a cure
when many of the more usual remedies had been em
ployed to little purpose. This remedy acts by shield
ing the part from the influence of the external air,
by checking the profuse discharge, and moreover,
is supposed by some, by the supply of that animal
gluten which is essential to the process of incarnation.
In many cases in which it was applied, the pain wasat
relieved, and the process of healing went on with
unusual rapidity. We have known this practice re
peatedly tried in this city, with results equally tavora
lile to its reputation. Two cases of this description,
by Dr. Storer, will be found in this Journal. The re
mark had previously been made by many persons who
had freated ulcerated surfaces caused by burns, that
the frequent removal of the dressings, and exposure of
the parts to the external air, were productive of un
necessary pain to the patient, and retarded healing ;
and that such surfaces required a permanent protection.
The present plan seems entirely in accordance with this
principle. The effort of nature to protect the part by
scabbing is seconded by the application—no unneces
sary disturbance is produced, and the sanative process
goes on with the least possible interruption.
I
once

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