American Lancaster gazette. [volume], May 17, 1855, Image 1

About American Lancaster gazette. [volume] (Lancaster, Ohio) 1855-1860

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' NEW, SERIES VOL. 3
; ; CITY OP LANCASTER:
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Thursday Mornine May 17, 1855
A Sonnet by Panlcl Webnter,
-rh. u-v,ir n-. ,.Mi.h-. .k-
following lino by Mr. web.ter, written by him in the
Album ofan American friend while on a visit to Eng-
;')and. Our readers, we believe, will agree with us in
, thinking Ha hanpy idea, hanirily expressed:
;TIIE MEJIOBV OF THE HEART,
-- - --
If stores of Dry and learned lore we pain
Close keopthem In the memory of lit train;
Knmes, tlilncvand fucti whut'ur we knowledge call,
, Thcrt Is the coiumou ledger for them all;
, And linages on this cold surface traced. '
, Make slight impressions, and are .soon oifaced. . 'f !
- Bit we've a paee more glowing, and more bright,
" On which our friendship, and our love lo write,
" 'That these may never from the-soul depart,
' -Wo trust thorn to the-fotaorv of the Heart: '
"There is no dimming no eiracement here,
Each new puliation keeps the record clear;
Warm golden lottfrn all the tablet till,
" Kor lose the lustre till the heart stands still.
' London, November 18, 1K10. - -
' THE LOVE OriUV '
A SKETCH FlULU LIFE,
:', ;' oy oCr Family pnrsicus.' '.
. .1 had already some skill and no!iriety
Jli tny treatment of pulmonary complaints;
and traveling North one summer for health
? ' iand' rest, I stopped for a few weeks at, a
.;' "boautiful littlti', .village near the St.. Law-
' rcriiip,- wrliere I was - somewhat known. ' ' I
vi had only been ? in ihe village two days
when I was 'called to the youngs daughter
of a: weul thy farmer by the nam-e of Sum
mer'. '." ;" 1
IdaSuinmrr had been : the belle of the
v fcbun.ty aii!l,',hough only seventeen," her
jiiarvelous beauty. had. already kindled a
bright fire in the heart of manv a suilor in
her favor.. ; Frank, ConOding. and at once ily. and, had the aristocratic de affixed to
; playful and' modest, arch, yet . innocent,- his name, although he could boast no pat
J'ullof wild spirits, yet, utterly devoid of limoniul estate.
oquetry to see her was to love herw ,s " j , young lady was of England's priv
- 1 found the peerless girl whom I had re-j class-both noblo ami wcal.hy,
Vniembered from the summer before as buov-.'. This, , ' however, our lover did not know
ant and rosy with health, pale and wan as
' a summer chnia. and apparently in the last "cl ' vviiuij. . ajovb uegcis tove, anu wo
'"'and closing. stages of a deep decline. ' At men are grateful; and the fair girl return
caruful investigation'into the' Btateof her!'d tlle' young soldier's devotion. ,. They
lungs convinced me. that herVwas a men-'" mut of ten how or where we cannot say;
tal rather than a physical consumption. . Ii but rrisia large, , and English customs
studied lie r case carefully, watched the var- j are convenient for young people. .This
ious expressions of her speaking face, and was charmingly agreeable, but unsatis-
at last came to the conclusion that her mal -
'" ady was one of the hftirt.' ' ' ' .;
:''' One of unrequited- att'ction? I could
.'.-not think that;, beautiful and' good as she
'"' was.1: -: - - ,.-.': ; . '
- iTha case wa a difficult one. -Tendeilv '
: and irontlv 1 niobed cverv. soundinnr. but
could arriva at no oni-lusion. Tims much
tl'nX discovered;, that she possessed no par-i
ti.o fa;
... or near, whose name I could tret hold of.
And notwithstanding all my efforts, she:
in teemed rapidly declining- . j
" - I made minute inaurv into her Dast ilife:;
' " but cautiously, as not, to let my motives be
, ...
, apparent, i learned that -she had tpent a, ." "'. ol "g". '-lergyman
" ' few weeks of the winter preccdinrr with an mny marry them without parental leave.
,; '..intimate friend in an Adjoining town, where , My Lord and My Lady are made con-
. repaired; but by closest enquiry could scious that their fair and gentle daughter
... ascertainnothing more." " ';' . , has a will of her own, and also A patient
The clergyman of the church which she determination to gratify that ,will. , They
had attended was a young man, but one tome to parley and enter into negotiations
. given to study aud seclusion. She . had wit' the young people.'
consequently seen nothing of bim except'- -The lovers are to be' separated for two
Vr." in the - pulpit. ) l liad made a pretext to: yearsT't shall not be considered an en
;:; :caH onhim,:and found him aman altogeth-" gagement and the yonng lady shall re
i 'r made after the model of which might ceive the addresses of other suitors.'
be the highest sspirationa of a woman's On the other hand, the lovers are to be
heart , j permitted to correspond, and if they re
in fact; all the unengaged young, ladies ma' lovers at the end of two years, they
.-j of his parish wero well ; nigh crazy, about
hira.' But W a 1 he accorded nothmirbuta
friendly -frreetinff: and leaviner them all
sought the privacy of his own study. , ' He
', . --was eminently handsome, and, . added to
' his1 tall manly form and beautifully chiseled
y -'rfeatures, he possessed - a benignity of ex
t,l' preision that, was nearly divine. '
;';r;I had much conversation with him, and
Ju", among other things Casually mentioned Ida
Rummer,, and her evidently ; dying; state,
- 'Blarging somewhat on her ; beauty and
.:, ; goodness. , His color deepened somewhat
1 '. an he assented to my remarks, and express-
' V ed his own regrets at her untimely fate;
' but otherwise ha manifested no emotion.
'" I remarked him that it was time for him :
" ''to triva hi nrntfv Tiftrannftrre a mistress. J
.-MT. S- ---r J r o
'I may, many years from now,' replied
he; with asurlrlAn anrl rlflonnnincr sadness:
" Dtit i eany learned to distrust the dislntern ugiucuou inio monins.ana no ieer cneer
S ested and tbidintr AffeetW of our modern d the sick heart of the poor cirl.. The
... ,- fyoung women. ;. I( I marry, I shall; prob
mn'; ably marry late in life. ,V v
;, a. fallacy, take my word forit.Mr, Stu
art. Our modern women, tome of them,
. are as fond and true as any of the dames of
old.; -The thing is to nd the right one,'
: and thus saying, I bade bim good morn-!
ing.' - "-'i ''-";;--;-..;-:' -
NO. 2
On my return I found my patient ratber
lower man wnen l Ictt her. 1 told her I
had been to the village of . Sudden
ly and tumukuously the warm blood rush
ed up to her bosom and face, and sbe look
eu ai me witu ner sott enqumnz
eyes. 1 told her of her friends and
equally mentioned the name of the young
clergyman, Robert Stuart. To her clear
blue veined temples the same truant blood
' Sped with fearfnl force,
r t, j f . , ..
i 1 had seen enough. I knew her dis
ease, ana most probably us remedy. 1
I instantly wrote a note to Mr. Stuart,
merely saying: 'If you would save a life,
lose not a moment in hastening to
(the name of the town.) I will await you
at my lodgings,' I signed my name, and
dispatched it by ft private messenger.
feooner than I expected, the young clor
gyman was at my hotel. I had prepared
Ida for a conversation with a clergyman,
specifying, however, no one in particular.
j 6aw her blush and start of joy and modesty.
What then and there transpired, noone
! but the rrpnf. fiAnrMioi rtf Vtoncta onA tl,a
f , ? . . .. ... .
two of hischoicesthandiworkthusbroiiL'ht
together a dying girl and a minister of
Heaven can answer. 1 left them alone
as long as I thouo-ht her Weak State might
i Lq, UnJ f A,..,,l il. j T r.?j
vv.... , aljU ,1 x UUIIICU .LlJ MUUI X 1UU11U
opei
him sitting beside her bed, her slender
hand fast locked in his, and his soul-beaming
eyes pouring life and love upon lwr.
My eyes filled with tears as I caught
sight of her radiant face, so full of peace
and serene bliss and life,' "but the , tears I
shed were the tears of joy. ...
. My patient, with almost one bound, re
gained her health and strength, and the
glorious representuiive of God's minister
upon earth, changing his mind upon the
subject of matrimony in favor of the 'right
one,' is now one of the truly happy men on
earth; happy in a life-marriage "with one
every way congenial with him, und every
way worthy of him. ,
A rilEACII STOKV.
The winding up of a romance in real life
has recently taken plaoe in the quasi offi
cial world of Paris'. Thus runs the story:
. At a Court ball, some twenty years
since, a young officer of the French caval
ry met and was charmed by a beautiful
English girl. ;i lie obtained an introduc
tion, and danced with her as often ns he
cjuld, without challenging the remaik of
his urace, the vomit; ladv s papa. Our
hero was handsome, . amiable,, witty, and
m every way a person
to win the good
W'H sex. - He was of good lam-
wllen first l'8 bowed bofore the charms of
i ictory; tor, uieirs was a nirtation. wan
a serious intention affixed to it marriage!
' 'At length our heroinediscloses her wish
es to her parents. They are horrified;
their daughter marry a Frenchman, mere
ly a lieutenant, a man without estate! It
- ' not to be, thouu-ht of.
oho r.stens to
first weakness
their decision in tears; A
passed, however; f-he feels nature's die
tate and the (strenL'th which love ifives.
Slie next boldly and firmly declares to her
parents that she loves the young officer
with her whole heart, and him alone' will
8e marry. They will not permit her to
judge of her own hnppiness. she can wait
..l'i :.i ---...I.'.. - .1.- :.-
i "".u ral4rrj wim iuii consent anu appro-
canon, v
The young lady consolos her anxious
lover with assurance that her love is un
changable, and that the two years' absence
will only serve to prove their affection for
each other and endear them to one another
still more.,
,They parti The English party return
home, During a month they exchange
. Otters daily and euch letters! Of what
a icngui, ana now iuii or terms oi enaear
ment! How poor lantruaee seemed to
them!
But one day, our fair heroine listened in
vain for the . postman's knock, so well
known to every Londoner. He came not,
The next day passed,' and the next and
The next day passed,
no 'tidings; and thus--many days passed,
and brought disappointment only. Weeks
third month came round, and her hopes be'
oame fait t. Then My Lady condoled with
her daughter,, upbraided the young solr
dier, and urged the acceptance of Lord-
as a suitor for her band, -y .'... ''.'it
"It was thus that a true English heart
should resent an insult." : Three months
more i passed, .Meanwhile the .unhappy
LANCASTER, OHIO, THURSDAY MORNING, MAtf 17, 1855
damsel writes letters and sends them in
every possible way, in the hopes of obtain
ing an explanation of this long silence.
None comes; doubt becomes conviction
she is deserted. , She stifles the love in her
heart, and pride comes to strengthen her
self respect. 1 Having no longer a desire of
her own,8he yields to that of her mother.
'My Lady, I will marry Lord , but
since I have so decided, let us be married
quickly.' . . .
It was done. Fifteen years passed by.
Our heroine is a widow. Five years more,
aud 'My Lady' lies ill until death. ,
She calls her daughter to her bedside,
and confesses that she had detained the
letters of the young officer that he had
been faithful. The proofs of it were by
the hundred in . such a desk. 'My Lady'
dies. Our heroine seeks these letters of
the lover of her youthful days, and finds
heaps of his, and also those she had written
in the vain hope of obtaining an explana
tion oi nis silence.
Twenty years of disappointment were
forgotten in reading the ardent expressions
oi altcctton and devotion , which they
wreathed. She was young again, and her
heart had known no care it was again
the spring time of her life. She took these
letters with her, and went to Paris.
She sought information from tho Minis
ter of War, of him who was lieutenant in
tho cavalry in 1834. ' The authorities re
plied that the lieutenant at that time was
now Commander General, and that he was
now stationed in one of the Southern De
partments. The widow wrote to the Gen
eral that she was at Paris, and desired to
see him. -.lie obtained leave of absence
and hastened to meet the lady.'- All is ex
plainhd and our lovers are married. To be
sure, the General is no longer young; but
his manners have tho same charm, and his
elegance and 6tyle lessen his apparontage
Ihe lady carnos her inadmissible forty
years as if they numbered but thirty. The
latter twenty years of their lives are likely
to oe imppiers than either ot the hrst.
: And so ends a real life romance, that i
very like one in a story book. . ,
A HuGK Pile of Serpents. Baron
Humboldt says: ... , ,..
"In the savannahs of Izacuba, Guiann,
I saw the most wonderful and terrible
spcctable that can be seen, and although it
be not uncommon to the natives, no travel
er has ever mentioned jt. ' We were ten
men on horselmck, two of whom took the
lead, in order to sound the passages, while
I preferred to skirt the great forests. ,One
of tho men who formed the vanguard gal
lop and called lo me, 'Here, fcir, come and
sec serpents in a pile." He pointed to
something elevated in the middle of the
savannah or swamp, which appeared like
a bundle of arms. One of my company
said, "This is certainly one of tho assem
blies of serpents which heap themselves
on each other after a violent tempest. I
have heard of these, but never saw any;
let us proceed cautiously, and not gov too
near them, , , ;
t-i .-When we were within twenty paces of
it the terrorpl or horses prevented ourap
proaching nearer, to which none of us irT
dined. . On a sudden .the pyramid mass
became agitated; a horrid hissing issued
from it: thousands of serpents rolledspirally
on each other, and shot forth out of the
circle their envenomed darts and fiery eyes
to us. .I own I was the first to draw back,
but when I saw this formidable phalanx
remain at its post, and appear to be more
disposod to .-defend itselt than attack us,
I rode around in order to view its order of
battle, which faced the enemy' on every
side. I then thought what could be tho
desmn of such an assemblage: and I con
eluded that this species of serpent dreaded
some colossal enemy; which might be the
great serpent or cayman, and they reunite
themselves after Seeing the enemy, so as to
resist the enemy in a mass.
- , - i - " ' - " -
Destruction of Ants. A correspon
dent ot the f hiladelphia Ledger says:
. we gave you a sure remedy procure a
large spunge, wash it Well, press it very
dry; by so doing it will leave the small cells
open lay it on the shelf where .they are
most troublesome, sprinkle some white
sugar on the sponge (lightly over it,)
two or three times a day, take a bucket of
hot water to where the sponge is, carefully
drop the sponge in the scalding wator, and
you will slay them by the thousands, and
soon rid the house of those troublesome in
sects. When you squeeze the sponge, you
will be astonished at the number that had
gone in the cells. 7 . ! .;:'. ' 7, i j '
Another correspondent of the same pa-
per says, mat a smaii uoiuu ot turpentine
without any cork, plared.in the place which
the auts frequent, and ahttle ot it sprinkled
on the shelf or pioce of muslin,, will drive
them off the smell of turpentine is enough
for them, and (hey leave on tmell. Moths
like it no better. .., .- . , - . , v
War is Costly. The English are dis
covering that it is impossible to carry on a
cheap war, and the taxes are beginning, to
press upon the nation. : Jt ne London Tunes,
reflectingupon the thirty millions of pounds
a year which the war now costs, says that
in order to pay for one soldier at the seat
Of war,' or one borse, or to supply a Lan
caster giln for halt an hour, they must pay
what would maintain four or five families
in comfort, keep up a good parish school,
provide -an active clergyman .for a neg
lected district, or do some other good work
that; may be; will never now be done. As
there is now no prospect of a peace,, new
expenses mutft be incurred to carry on the
war successfully .j ' 'a v h'-ii 5 :
THE OlCATiSDTIIE FAHTHfXtt.
' BT MART HOWITT.
A ducat and a farthing had just been
Coined in the great mint where all the gold,
silver and copper pieces are made. The
two lay close side by side, clean and beau
tiful, and tho clear sunlight glittered upon
them.' ;: ' ' -
"Thou ragsmuffiti! cried the ducat, off
with' thee! . Thou art only made out of
vulgar copper,' and are not worthy to be
shone' upon by the sun. Thou wilt soon be
black and dirty, and noone will think it
worth a while to pick thee up from the
ground.", I, on the contrary, am of costly
gold; I shall travel th tough the world to
the great people of the earth to princes
and kings I shall do great things, and
even at length, perhaps, become part of the
king's crown." '.
At the same moment, a great white rat,
laying near the fire, rose up and turning
round on her side, remarked: ;
"The under must be uppermost to make
all even." .'
And the fate of these two coins was
somewhat the same. ' 1
The gold piece came into the possession
of a rich mii-er,woh locked it up in a chest
among a great number of other gold pieces,
The miser, fearing that he should soon die,
buried his gold in the earth, so that no one
should possess it after him; and there lies
the proud ducat till this present time, and
it has grown so black and dirty, that no
one would pick it up if he saw it.
The farthing, however, traveled through
the earth, and came , to high honor; and
this is how itoccurred: . ..
A lad from the mint received the farth
ing in his wages, and the lad's little sister
admiring the bright little coin, he gave it
to her. The child ran into the garden to
show her mother the farthing; an old
lame beggar came limping up, aud begged
a pieco of bread. . "I have none," said the
little giil. "Give me then a farthing, that
I may buy myself a bit of bread, said the
beggar. And the child gave him the far
thing. The beggar limped away to the
baker's. ' Whilst lie stood iu the Bhop an
old acquaintance, dressed as a pilgrim,witU
his cloak, staff and bag.came up the street,
and gave the. children prettey pictures. of
saints and holy men, and the children
dropped pence into the box which the pil
grim held in his hand. The beggar ask
ed, ' "Where are' you going?" The pil
grim replied, - "Many hundred miles to the
city of Jerusalem, where the dear Lord
Jesus was born, and livod, and died; I am
going to pray at Jiis holy grave, and to
buy the release of 'my s brother, who has
been taken prisoner by the ' Turks. " But
first, I am'collooting money in my box."
1'So take my mite,", said the beggar, and
he gave the pilgrim th? farthing. , .
The beggar was walking away, hungry
as ho came, but the baker, who had look
ed on, gave the poor old man the bread he
was about to have bought. . " ;.
Now, the pilgrim traveled through many
lands, saild over sea in a little ship, and at
length reached the 'city of Jerusalem.
When the pilgrim arrived, -he first prayed
at the sepulchre, then presented himself
1 r .1. - cv . 1 . L. tj. t! 1 .1
eiore vneu.tan, w o ncm n.s orotner .
captive. He offered the Turk a great srflnf
01 money,-11 ne wouia oniy set nig oroiner
free. ' But the Turk required more: ; ' "I
have nothing more to' offer thee,"" spake
the pilgrim, "than this common farthinp-,
.which a beggar gave ' me out of compas
sion." ' "Bo thou also compassionate, and
the farthing reward thee."
mi.. 0..1. ,1. ,i . i' 1--
.. aneounan put u.e lurtuing in "ispocK-j
et, and soon forgot all abou t it,.; The Em-
pcror ot Germany came to ueru, ami
waged war against the Sultan. ' The Sul-,
tan fought bravely; and was never .wound
ed. Once an arrow; was shot straight at
his breast it struck him but foil 4 bask a
gain without having wounded him. ;;. The
Sultan was much surprised at this, and af
ter the battle, his' clothes were examined,
and in the breastpocket, the farthing was
found against which the arrow bad struck.
The Turk held the farthing in great honor,
and had it hung with a golden chain to the
handle of, his seimotaf. Latei ' on In the
war the Sultan was taken prisoner by the
Emperor, and was forted to yield np his
sword Into the Emperor's possession, i
Whilst the Emperor sat at table with a
beaker of wine his hand, ' the .Empress
said She- should like to see the Sultan's
sword; and it was brought.' As the Em
peror exhibited it to the Empress, the far
thing -fell from the golden ohain. into the
beaker of wine.- The Emperor perceived
this, and before he placed the beaker to his
lips, he;, took out - the farthing. ' "But the
farthing was grown- quite "green. Then
every one-saw that there was poison in the
wine.. A wicked attendant had poisoned
the wine in order to destroy the Emperor.
The attendant was condemned to death;
but the farthing was placed in' the Imperi
al crown.--' -' ', 1 -' ' H '
Thas the farthing had delighted a child,
had procured a beggar bread, had released
a prisoner had saved tlie life of a Sultan,
and of an Emperor. Therefore it was set
in. the Imperial crown, and is there to this
day if one could cnly see that crown!
To Shake orv -, Trouble. Set
about
doing good to somebody; put on your hat
and go and visit the poor; inquire into
their wants and administer unto them; seek
out the desolate, and oppressed, and tell
them of the consolations of religion.. I
have-often tried this method and have al-,
ways found it the best medioinc for a heavy
heart. Howard -
There Should be Wore fanner.
Zoboastxr, the Persian prophet and
philosopher, taught that "he who sows the
ground with care and diligence, acquires
a greater stock of religions merit than be
could gain by therepetition of ten thousand
prayers;'? and the maxim might at this
time be jndiciously impressed upon the
American people, enforced as it would be
by the very high prices which every spe
cies of agricultural produce now commands
in every section of the United States.
This state of things, considering the abun
dance, cheapness, and productiveness of
land in this country, is an anomaly. Reas
oning a priori, one would naturally come
to the conclusion . that this should be one
of the cheapest countries to live in; but tbe
fact is quite the reverse. And why? One
reason maybe that labor has a higher val
ue here than most other countries; and as
labor is the prominent-ingredient of all
productions,' whether agricultural, me
chanical or scientific, it becomes, in a great
degree, the standard of value, as it is the
measure of cost, of every article. Anoth
er reason is the tendency of labor iu the
United States to seek employment in other
branches of business, such as the profes
sions, trade, commerce, manufactures,
banking, brokering and speculating. The
American people generally have an over
weening desire to become rick suddenly
rich and have not the patience to wait
for the natural growth of the tree t ob
tain its fruit, but must have the fruit now,
immediately. - Agriculture is therefore too
slow in its process to suit them- An idea
irevails among them too, that farming is a
ess genteel employment than those we
have named, or even than living by their
wits, or upon their relatives. Prompted
by this false notion, the sons of farmers,
even instead of following in the footsteps of
their fathers, and becoming respectable
farmers, generally leave their rural homes,
study professions, become clerks in stores,
engage in trade, commence manufacturing
or speculating, or Something else; some
taking to gold digging or gambling, being
ready for any thing that promises rich re
wards for little or no labor, and really fit
for nothing. Those born and reared in
towns or cities, become accustomed to and
fond of excitement, company, theatres,
parlies, billiaid rooms, nine pin alleys.oys
ler bouses and hotels, and are thereby un
fitted for rural life; of course they couldn't
think of burying themselves upon a farm,
Tn. the" country. Hence we rarely, very
rarely see cit turn farmer. - We are sorry,
but are constrained to say that the same
distaste of a country life pervades the fair
sex; those especially who have been bro't
up amidst the turmoil and excitement of a
town life, and accustomed to all the idle
dissipation of which it is so largely consti
tuted. . : , :
From these various causes, and others.
there is at the present time a disproportion
between the producing class and the con
suming. Owing to the same causes agri
culture is less esteemed as an employment
than it should bo. In England it ranks
above all others. It is there the peculiar
employment of the nobility and gentry,
who take as much pride in their crops and
cMe g9 do be; the pOSsessors of
knded esta It is U) cJrkd on in a
scientihe manner and upon an extensive
scale. It employs an immense amount of
capital', and the reputation of being a sue
eessfularmer is not beneath the ambition
of a Luke or i'rince. it is upon their "es
tates' in the . country that the higher and
middle - classes of England feel most at
, Rnd enjoy ife with the highest zest,
j T is there thaJt tl0y re(!e;Ve nnd return vis-
it8 Bnd.entertain their friends. ; It is there
,,,,. lf .m1, m.. ,ho. ,,
that; family reunions take place, that the
, Christmas holidays are spept, that chil
- dren are taught to love their , homes; that
they acquire memories of them which are
the b wee test recollections ot their after life.
, In this country farming , is becoming
. more of a science than it formerly was, and
requires more intelligence to carry it on
successfully; r the best educated men are
now found to make the best farmers.. . As
such men devote themselves more and
more to this branch, of business, it will
gradually rise as an employment in the es
timation of the community, until, as in
England, it shall come to be considered the
most honorable,, as it is the most impor
ts nt of ahV:::jr1- . S. :
. An Old Pbwter. Thurlow W.Brown,
in a communication from the Cabin in the
Maples, ih Wisconsin, to his paper, the
Cayuga Chief, Bays that he has found a
typographical curiosity in the Plain Dealer
office-at Waukesha. . Mr. Ilunt, now an
active and hale old man, aud still perform
ing the journeyman's labor at the "case"
was a "jour" in the London Times office
as long ago as the proprietors of that estab
lishment, were making efforts to print by
machinery .1 , He well remembers . the
effort to run a press by horse. Mr. Hunt
worked for thirty years in one office.
lie remembers Lord Byron well, and has
"set" his manusoript. ( Byron used some
times to review his own poems, with un
stinted f commendation. Such '. articles
went to Mr. Hunt in the poet's own hand
writing.. ' ,. ., ,.'
Pbids.- Pride is a louder begger than
want and a great deal more saucy When
you have bought one fine thing you must
buy ten more that all' may be of a piece.
But poor Dick says "It is easier to sup
press the first desire than to satisfy all that
follow it." t And it is as truly folly for the
poor to ape the rich as the frog to swell to
equal the bull. " '':' v .':;..':' i . . .
. KIRWAN'S LETTERS. '
TO TRS BIGHT EEV. J0H3 HUGHES, BISHOP
OF SEW YORK.
LETTER 71. - ' "
Mr Dsak Sia.-In my last letter.in which
I sought to illustrate that the influence of
ropery is to make the masses superstitious,
and the intelligent, infidels.m all the coun
tries where it predominates, I made the fol
lowing assertion: ,"it has rendered our noble-hearted,
noble-minded, impulsive coun
trymen, the hewers of wood andthedraw
crs of water, in all the countries to which
they emigrate. The degradation of Ire
land which has made it a by-word.I charge
upon Popery." To some of the evidences
of the troth of these assertions I wish to
call yonrattention in the present Jetter.
Perhaps the present state of feeling in our
country towards famine-striken Ireland
maysccure for what I shall say to you some
attention.
That Ireland is a degraded country, as
to its masses, with all our pride of country,
neither you nor J can deny. Its general
poverty, its pervading ignoraDce, its mud
hovels, its innumerable beggars, its insub
ordination, are the sad and tangible proofs
of iu degradation. They lie upon the sur
face of the country, where every traveler
can behold them.- And the untravelied
American has the evidences of this degra
dation brought to his own door. He sees
it in the perfect ignorance of his Irish ser
vant in the squalid appearance of the
Irish beggar in the deep-rooted supersti
tion of the Irish papist-in the Irish brawls
in low tippling-houses in the furious pas
sions ofan Irish mob in tbe .large pro
portion of Irish convicts in our prisons.and
of vicious Irish in our places-of moral re
form. It is, my dear sir, With feelings of
regret and shame that I make this state
ment. My love ofcouutry has never for
saked me for an Lour. With all its faults,
1 love Ireland still;and in the lowest depths
of their degradation its children manifests
sensibility and a nobility that would hon
or those in the highest rnks of civiliza
tion, and that evince what they would be
under a riiiht develonment of their social
and moral nature. AVhat are the causes of
this degradation? .
. I will not, I cannot omit from the list of
causes what is technically called Absen
teeism : the lordly proprietors of ' the land
living in foreign countries, and expend
ing abroad the hard earnings of their ten
ants at home. This is one of the grievous
curses of Ireland- ',.'
Nor can I omit the system of letting and
sub-letting, or renting and sub-renting of
the land, by the richer to the less rich, un
til between the owner and the actual cul
tivator there may be six to , twelve land
lords, each living upon those below himr
and the actual tillers of the land supporting1
Al -ill mi f , . 0
iiH.-uj in is is iniusing into me curse
01 absenteeism an ingredient which multi
plies its bitterness by ten. , It gives rise to
a class ot landlords as, nnpitymg as fam
ine. . ..
Nor can I omit the system of tithes for
the support of the Established Church of
Ireland. . An. Lpiscopal priest is placed
in every parish in Ireland; and if he has
not one single parishioner to wait on his
ministrations, he , is yet entitled to his
tithes from the pariah. And these , tithes
are drawn from the actual cultivators of
the soil, the poor tenants. And , these
tithes are usually let and sub-let, as is the
land; and their collection usually falls into
the hands of men as rapacious as vultures.
Yes, and the priest for whose support these
tithe? are paid may never have made the
impress of his foot upon the soil, of his par
ish! Yes, and when the tither calls upon
th poor man to pay his tithes for the sup
port of a minister he . has never seen, and
for the maintenance of a religion, which
his soul abhors, unless he is ready to pay,
his only cow, more than one half the sup.
port of his lamily, is driven tp the market
and there sold lor half her value! And if
that does not pay, his pig is driven and
sold in the same way I Such is the system
of tithes in Ireland! I have no language,
my dear sir, in which to express my ab-!
horrence of it. - The support of such a sys
tem is a disorrace to the Protestant name;
it is a deep, dark, direful r stain upon the
equity of British legislation," . It is a public
protest before heaven aud earth against the
church that sanctions it, and against the
craven-hearted, earthly-minded clergy that
can submit to be thus supported! Out of
your own church, sir, I know of no ecclesi
astical nuisance so utterly offensive as that
of the Established Church of Ireland!
And' yet the very upholders of these
schemes of robbery, yes, and some of the
very individuals that, pocket the plunder
thus legally and ecclesiastically niched from
the poor people, write to ns about public
taitii and honesty, and lecture us upon the
subject of slavery as if they were" spotless
as babriel! VI all this lean say, as Talley
rand is "reported 'to have said f a lady
that frequently annoyed him; -'Madam,'
said he, 'you have but one fault.'- 'Pray,
sir,! said she, 'whatis it?' 'It is,' said he,
'that you are perfectly insufferable.' Nor
have I seen, among the various plans sug
gested by Lord John Russell for the relief
of Ireland, a hintat the abolition of this ne
farious system of tithes, y ; ' ;,
7 Bad, my dear sir, as I think af these
causes,' and much as they nave contributed
to the degradation and impoverishing-of
Ireland, they are but as the dust of the
balance when Compared wito the influ
ences of Popery. " And that yonrself may
see this, bear me to the close, calmlyi ana
without prejudice." ; , ' " ' " "
ESTABLISHED IN 1826
iMaMjMi?i;.M-;.-L?. piM
Why this Absenteeism, of which. w so
bitterly and justly complain? , I am not tv
bout to excuse it; but one of its reasons it
the opposition of tbe priest to the efforts of
the land proprietor to elevate bis tenantry
and the fierce jealousies which Ihe priest
excites in tbe minds of the people. There
is but little Absenteeism in Scotland; wb
is it so general in Ireland? The cause w
find in the difference of the religion of the
two people. If the parish priest of Ireland
was like the pariah minister of Scotland,
the Marquis of Sligo would bare as - pleas'
ant a borne upon bis estate as the - Duke of
Buccleugh, or the Marquis of Broadal'
bane. . - ... , ,.,
; Popery does nothing for the education
of the people of Ireland. . With the wealth
of the middling classes under its control
and almost at its beck, where are its schools
and its colleges for the education of its
people? You send to Ireland for money
to establish them here; why erect none
there? Connanght, where your church
has complete control, is an almost unbroken
mass of ignorance. And Munster is pre
cisely like it. And these are the portion
of it where the famine is now raging, - Ig
norance brutalizes, and . sensualizes, and
rendera men improvident. It tlacts our
higher in subjection to our lower nature;
and in withholding education from the
people popery has degraded Ireland. And
wherever its children are. carried by the
tide of emigration, their want of education
places them in the lowest grade of society:
and they are more dreaded as a ' burden,
than hailed as an accession. . Without the
high aspirations Which knowledge impart,
and without tbe self-respect which it cre
ates, they are satisfied with .being menials
where they might be masters to be car
rier. of mortar, where they might be chief
builders on the wall. , Jf the ignorance of
Ireland has any thing to do wall the deg
radation of Ireland, J charge thut ignorance
upon Pofirry.t ,; . . , '..,, ' ,:.'.
. And if Absenteeism, and sub-letting, and
the tithe system do much to impoverish the
people, Popery does yet more. ' It meets
them at the cradle, and dogs them to the
grave, and beyond it, with its demands for
money. When the child is baptized, the
priest must have money., ..When the moth
er is churched, the priest must have mon
ey. , When the boy is confirmed, the bish
op must have money. . When he goe to
confession, the priest must have money.'
When he partakes , of the Eucharist, the
priest must have money, When visited in
sickness, the priest must have money.
If he wants a charm against ' sickness or
the witches, he must pay for it . money".
When be is buried, his friends must , pay
money After mass is said over bis re
mains, a plate is placed on the coffin, and
the people collected together on." the occa
sion are expected to deposit their contribu
tion on the plate. Then the priest pockets
the money, and the people take '' the body
to the grave, , And then,' however good
the person.his soul has gone to Purgatory;
and however bad, his soul may have stop
ped there.'' And tlieri . comes tlie, money
for prayers and masses for deliverance from
purgatory, which prayers and masses are
continued as long is the money continues
to be paid. Now when we. remember that
seven out of the nine millions of the peopler
of Ireland are papists, and of the most big
oted stamp; and that this horse-leech pro
cess of collecting money, whose ceaseless
cry is 'give, give,' is in operatk in every
parish; and that as-, far as possible every
individual is subjected to it, can .we won
der at the poverty arid the degradatfcn of
Ireland? Can we wonder that its Bobfe
hearted, noble-minded ' people, are every
where hewers of wood and drawer ' of wa
ter? Shame) shame, upon your church,
that it treats a' people so confiding; and
faithful so basely! Shame, shame upon it,
that it does so little to elevate a people that
contribute so freely to its ' support!,. O,
Popery, thou hast" debased my ;', country
thou hast impoverished' its people- thou
hast enslaved its mind! ' From the hodman
on the ladder from the digger of the ea
nal from the ostler - in ' the stable from
the unlettered cook in the kitchen, and the
maid in the parlor from the rioter in the
street from the culprit at the bar from
the state prisoner in his lonely dungeon
from the victim of a righteous Jaw stepping
into eternity from the callows, for" a mur
der committed under ihe delirium of pas
sion or ' whisky, I hear a protest acainst
thee as the great cause of .the deep degra
dation of as 'noble a people as any upon
which the sun shines m the;' circuit of ,k "
glorious wayt ''"J:y?', 'V ''"f 5
. My dear sir, your 'religion (s for the
benefit of the priest, and not that of the -
ople. Its object is not to spread fight.
ut darkness, not to advance civilization
but to retard it, trot to elevate but to de
press man, that he may the more readily be
brought under your influence. And we -,
hare in Ireland a type of what our happy
land will be when the priest wields ' the
power here which he wields there. ';''
I own, dear sir, that I have digressed a
little from my original object i these let
ters.' But 111 my nest I shall commence
with the reasons which on the most mature
reflection yet prevent me from returning,
0 the pale of your enurem " '
'Z -With great rcspest, yours,. '
'. God's people are l'ke stars, that eh me
brightest in the darkest night; they are
lika cold.' that is brichUr for the furnace:
like incense, that becomes fragrant from
hurniW: like the camomile tlant. thai
grows fastest when trampled on. .
i t