Newspaper Page Text
»IX A WARE REGISTER.
OR, FARMERS', MANUFACTURERS* & MECHANICS' ADVOCATE. Our Public Journals as they ought to lie—"The vehicles of Intelligence, not the common sewers of Scandal." WILMINGTON, Del., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 3, 1829. No. 49. Vot. I. The Delaware Register is published every Saturday morning, by Albert Wihon, No. 105, Market Street, at Two Dollars per annum, if paid in advance; otherwise, Two Dollars and Fifty Cents. Handbills, Cards, Blinks, Pamphlets, end Job Printing in general, executed with neatness and despatch, and at mode rate prices, at the Office of the Register. 09-Advertisements inserted on reasonable terms. FOB THE DELAWARE REGISTER. SISTER AND WIFE. ' Lucius and his sister Maria were nearly of the same age. They were similarly educated, and their sentiments and pre ferences were the same. The purest, firmest friendship, ce mented by the strongest atfection, existed between them, and tiieir joyous infancy whs succeeded by a happy youth. Before either were of age, their parents died, and the helplessness of Maria endeared her still more closely to the warm heart of her brother. By his manly exertions he provided for all her ne cessities, and they lived together in the utmost harmony. Their pleasant home was the centre of attraction to a polished cir cle of agreeable friends, and they seemed but to exist for each other. Every indulgence that the most wukeful love could devise, was lavished upon Maria, by hor kind brother, and when he days, bis letters breathed the very soul of affection, and his protestations of unalterable attachment were delightful to her. Under this covering of reliance and happiness, she refused to enter into the bonds of matrimony, lest her idolized brother should feel the loss of many of those domestic comforts it was her purest pleasure to supply, and she promptly declined se veral odvuntagoous oilers; placing implicit confidence in a brother's word, which repeatedly assured her, he would share his very last dollar with his beloved Maria, who, he said, should never want a home whilst he had a house to shelter unavoidably separated from her, even far a few himself. Thus were they circumstanced, when Lucius w as in vited to the »adding of a particular friend of his, and there ho met with Adelaide H. She was young and very pretty, and suod made an impression on the affectionate heart of Lu cius. He wooed and «on her, and the day fixed for their mar as the termination of Maria's happiness. From that She was soon made rtage period her wretchedness commenced, sensible that the -Iaims of a wife were in every thing para mount to those of a sitter. If Adelaide breathed a wish, it was gratified to the utmost limit oi l lie power of Lucius, whilst liiu urgent lequesis of Maria »ere passed by unheeded. Was a journey proposed, Maria must stay behind and take care of tile house, whilst Adelaide enjoyed herself. In domestic la bors Maria was expected to take a very large share, whilst Adelaide, in elegant attire, would preside as the mistress of the mansion. This sort of life soon became too irksome to be borne, and the sister of Lucius, unwilling to utter a single complaint, proposed to leave them, and endeavor to earn a livelihood for herself, observing, that perhaps it would be more agreeable to Adelaide to undertake the sole management of the house herself. This was assented to by the bride, with eagerness, and not opposed by Lucius, who had fully learned the matrimonial lesson of unqualified submission to her, whom he hud taken, for better, for worse. What a change had this fatal marriage wrought in the prospects of Maria. Her tears flowed in silence, when she bade a long adieu to the dear bro ther of her afiections, and when she turned from iiis door, the melancholy fact was iudelibly impressed on her aching heart, that the claims of a sinter were completely annihilated by tfiuse of a wife. Guilford. >:o: THE ROMANCE OF JESSIE, THE FLOWER OF DUMBLANE. —Who would bear the whips and acorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay. The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With share bodkin?" The poot Tannahill is justly celebrated for his an Shakspisarb. ny sweet Scottish songs. Ilis short life of poverty and unfortunate death are probably known only to the peasantry of his own country and the curious in biography. Poor Tannahill, stung with indignation from a sense of mortified pride, and as, lie conceived, hopes blasted irremediably, rushed from a merry cir cle where he had spent the evening, and rashly pttt an end to his earthly troubles by drowning himself near the place of his nativity. Many months previous to his death he had become gloomy and abstracted, and contemplated self-destruc tion with a fearful composure. The following words solemnly addressed, and written by a brother poet the eve of committing a similar act were ever on his tongue : on AD CtELUM. " Good Heavens ! the mystery of life explain, Nor let me think I bear the load in vain; Lest, with the tedious journey cheerless grown, Urg'd by dospair, I throw the burden down." Tannahill had long been the sport of wayward fate, occasioned in some degree, by faults within himself; but more particularly by the apathy and remissness of his countrymen, who with all their boasted generosity, neglected him. Like most poets, ho was sensitive to excess, and deadly jealous of his fair fame. Always suspicious of the motives of his patrons, he was re served and unarniable before them. That they should look down on him as an object for their commisera tion, or entertain him as they would a paid creature for their amusement, was to his haughty spirit mortify ing in the extreme ; and rather than submit to the humiliating caprice of patronage broadly assumed, he chose to clasp poverty to his aching heart, and, in the ragged abode of misery, wak pleased to utter those brilliant strains of imagery and sentiment, which have beguiled many a weary hour, and yet shall enliven the social circles of his native land (if there be any thing in immortality) to the " crack of doom." The cause for irritation which immediately prece ded his act of self-destruction, was a supposed insult given by one of his associates, on the fatal evening.— Talent will always create envy, and, consequently he get enemies, who will seize opportune moments to mortify and annoy. This is according to human na ture, and poor Tannahill ought to have estimated it with the mind of a philosopher ; but, unfortunately for liiinself, he carried within his bosom the heart of a poet, tremblingly " alive all o'er" with a high sense of honorable feeling; rendered still more intense by a vivid imagination. Of his songs none have been more universally es teemed than his " Jessie, the flower of Dumblane." The beautiful imagery of the verse, and the plaintive sweetness of the air* gained it an immediate popular ity, which promises to be as lasting as the language in which it was written. The fair subject of this song was a bonnie lassie in Dumblane. Her family were of poor extraction, and Jessie was contented with a peasant's lot. When Tannahill became acquainted with her, she was in *The air is composed by R. A. Smith, of Edinburgh. The verses, too, are indebted to his critical acumen, tho manu script song having been twice the length of the printed one. The writer of this received his intelligence of tho fact from Mr Smith, whs was on intimate terms with Tannahill, and of ten endeavored to cheer the drooping spirit of the bard. her " teens, a slight, dimple checked, happy lassie ; her hair yellow colored and luxuriant j her eyes large andfull, over flowing with the voluptuous languor which is so becoming to young blue eyes with golden lashes; The tinge which lit up her oval cheek, was délicat® and evanescent, and her pulpy lips bubbled with bliss as she gave utterance to her heart. Tannahill was struck with her beauty, and as in nil things he was enthusiastical, became forthwith her dent worshipper. But her heart was not to be won. Young, thoughtless, panting to know and see tire world, she left her poor amourante " to con songs to his mistress' eyebrows," while she recklessly rambled among the flowery meads of Dumblane, or of an even ing sang his inspired verses to him with the most mortifying nonchalance. This was a two-fold misery to tire sensitive poet. A creature so sweetly elegant, so dear to him, so very lovely and innocent, and yet; withal, so encased in insensibility as apparently nei ther to be conscious of the beauty of the verses trem bling on tier dulcet tongue, nor caring for the Care3* ses of her lover. ar* Twas too much to mark all this, and to fed it with the feelings of a poet, was the ucme of misery. But the " Flower of Dumblane' was not that un feeling, uninniginating being which Tannahill pictur ed her. She was a creature all feeling, all imagina tion, although tiie bard had not that in his person manners to engage her attention or to arrest her fan cy. The young affections are not to be controlled. Love, all mighty love, must be free, else it ceases to be love. Tannahill was plain in his person and couth in his manners, and felt and expressed discon tent at the cruel disappointments which it had been his unhappy fate almost invariably to encounter. Jes sie on the contrary, looked upon the world as a bril liant spectacle yet to be seen and enjoyed,—as a vast paradise, full of the beauty of heaven and of earth, where men walked forth in the image of their Crea tor, invested with his attributes, and where trod proudly amidst the lovely creation, an angel ven erated and adored. To express dissatisfaction under all these circumstances, was to her mind the extrava gance of a misanthrope, the madness of a real lover of misery, and a sufficient cause for her not to respect him. Both viewed the world through a false medi um, and their deductions, although at variance, gave color to their minds and accelerated their fate. or woman Jessie could not comprehend what appeared to her the folly of her suitor. She relished not his sickly sentiment ; and as all woman-kind ever did so, she scorned a cooing lover. The bard was driven to des pair, and, summoning up an unwonted energy of mind, departed, and left his adored to her youthful aberra tions. Soon after this period, the song of " Flower of Dumblane," together with the music, published; and became a public favorite ; it was sung every where, in theatres and at parties—a world of praise was showered upon it from woman's flattering lips, and men became mad to know the adored sub ject of the lay. In a short period it was discovered. Jessie Monteith, the pretty peasant of Dumblane, was the favored one. From all quarters young men and Jessie, the was