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m i « $ h AND DELAWARE ADVERTISER . I'h jiish" 1 every Thursday by WILLIAM A. Mli.VUF.jYI/ALl., No. 81 , Market-st. (three doors above the Farmer'« Bank,)—Ij-wliere Subscriptions, Jobs and Advertisements, will be gratefully receiv*d..£fl TEBIlVilRY 2,1826. No. 19. VOL. III. I j ] j I I j j ] I I I ,vrv TW Mis wiff l qilF, DYING HUSBAND 1 ) .1 S • I "How sweet the words of truth, breath il Irom ^ the lips of love."— | . ; exceeding F 1 73/,* If y. —Anv k u n swn ï s rs not one square will be insertwl four times for one | dollar, and cents tor each subsequent inser "itï ÏÂSS&" I ïïjâï ; j Htinviltgthc put ion» inserted in the itci'tytvr, gratis. 'l'fall l/V OT S Ulf Vv? itIPVfO .Y. —To those ...... iceive this paper by mail, two dollars^ and' those who d • not, two dollar* end twenty-five cents j c; If not paid in advance, $2 5 ) | . t; and if not paid bclore the expi who r n vear, is ki II be char« ration of the year, S3. 'f'nu Subscription will be discontinued unless «two week's notice is given and all arrearage»are fop aid. Y • "A FlHESBSrjir. or \V. Rvt. ■> Without a frienlthc world is but a witdcrnm." Without a friend—without a friend, The world is but Though sun arise, and rains de scend, Yet all is dark and comfortless. How sad, without one gh-um of hope, Through this lone wilderness to grope. vilderness; Buds may expand and, flowers awhile Miy blossom, only to decay; Tim trees miy bow their h ■ »'1; and smile— Iv s;' l by the breezes of the days But go to- morrow —look — m 1 see— Nougat but the weeping-willow tl-ee. -the passions dire, Those beasts of prey Infest the forest of the mind Not p irificd by culture's fire— Enlightene 1 by it, or r. fin'd. Bat let in fr eudsiiip's vivid ray, And ail is Eden—all is day. The wilderness begins to bloom ffl Afresh—and fruits begin to grow— philosophy dispels the gloom That settle* on our patli below, An 1 blest Rel gion points abov -, Where all s ti-.j i lsliip—peace—and love. On Him w'.io is the friend of all, My soul in safety shall depend, Though earth nay sink, and skies may fall, He is my everlasting friend; The favour of whose friendship is Unfading and eternal bliss. The hour, my dear, for parting. Is swftly stealing on; The dying heart is starting, I jl Because its strength is gone , ! Thc faded eye is closing, Tile hollow cheek is sear, And low the head reposing, Ofliiin who holds thee dear. The arm that press'd thee to him Is nervous and unsinnig; Tlie tongue that ask'd to woo him As feeble as when young. The hand that used like thine to throw Us fingers o'er the lyre, And caus'd the bosom oft to glow With love's clastic fire, Is pale and lifeless, ami Will animate l fear, L Tlie breast of him whose joys are o'er, ■ Of him who holds thee dear. ■ Keep then, the ring, and wear it, Which saal'd us man and wife, I And to tlie world declare it ■ Tlie only tie of life. ■ Thou hast no friends to weep with theo S Whilst thou shall tarry here; ■ Buloh! in Heaven tlie face thou'ltsce Of him who holds time dear! - ■' ■ more, A Father's Farewell to his Daughter. Come near to my gcMitlc girl, Come share a father's parting sorrow,— And w ep with me those tears to-day, Nor thou; nor I, may weep to-morrow. Come lean once more upon my breast, As when a simple child caressing, For anof er day, and far away Wilt thou he from thy father's blessing. Thc wind blows fairly for the sea:— The white waves round thy hark are swelling, Thy lover sighs, for tlie morn to rise, And make thee a bride my gentle Ellen: Yet closer, closer, round me cling, Though another claim thy love to-morrow, None, none are here, to reprove the tear, That flows to-day for a father's sorrow. Come, gaze on me, thou darling child, My fairest, and my fondliest cherish'd, That 1 may trace in thy placid face, Thy mother's beauty ere she perish'd. And let me hear thy mother's song, Yet once more from thy sweet lips swelling,— And none again shall sing that strain, The last song of my gentle Ellen. And say that when between us lie Wide lands, and many a mountain billow, Thy heart will tend to thine earliest friend And think in prayer of his aged pillow. had the éra this of her v.d . ... j As there are two seasons in this life, con- , tradistinguished in every respect, the inorn- | ( ,j ing and evening-—youth and old a o e— ' , ° j there arc two distinct stages in its progress- | ion, through each of wuich the mind has ja i] peculiar and different train of feelings. 1 " c J an first stage is the reign of enthusiam, the se- | a coud that of reason. In youth, we ave senti- j mental—in age, sometimes misanthropes. | In the first season we see every thing super- ; ficially, and through a medium ot warm and active imagination, heated with the fire of w passion, cherish hopes where there is no ), foundation, see beauties whvre t iers are j none, and excellence in perfection—but grown wiser by experience, and aided by the triumph of reason oyer the flickering and dy- Ci4 ing lights of immagination, we sometimes go as far in the last as we went m the first ex treme. This process is a steady and pro gressive one, but generally certain and sum- w lor in its consequences and results. I am now writing from try own expert cnce. The first distinct ule t 1 had ot t ie deceptive nature of appear mecs, was in tie view of a distant landscape—it was bcauti fill; a very paradise—made ot level anil ex tensive meadows, sprinkled over with clus ters of trees, a winding stream in the mut t. ta I approached it, and its charms vanished— the plain was rough and une ven, weeds and briars lined the hedges the fences were ^ ru le and decaying—the stream muddy and sluggish—and the trees tney were common ones, just such as grow every ^ when-. oi a moment, then, I had a doubt; whether tile world as it presented itself to a young mind, s -- not altogether deceptive, ] I had a friend who wound himselt oecp in- j ( l to my confidence, and 1 believed lum alto- j gether worthy. He professed to be dev oted j t0 met an d did some tilings to please me, I | said many things to flatter me, was al ways ; t . in my company when leisure allowed him. I ; I thought the world ofjnm—-and he took t ■ > e | y iny head is white with winter snow F No earthly sun away may carry, jjntil I come to iny waiting home, TV. I..« rtm .1« «*. n-. .»«■ « .. «r w As when u simple child caressing. For another day, and far away, . closer, closer, round me cling, YVilt thou be from a father's blessing. Though another claim thy love to-morrow, None, none are here, to reprove the tear, That flows to day for a father's sorrow. SESIZOUS RUrLEOTIONS. From thc Trcntnn Emporium. Vue world. «< From the sublime tu the ridiculous, there is but a step." was I first fail-opportunity of cheating me most- — | jl will not say the word, but 1 was a nttlo staggered, _ Affairs, more peculiarly of the heart, make j , . . ! up always a good many pages in tlie history j of early life. I took it into my head that a i little girl who lived in the neighborhood, was absolutely, and to all intents and purposes an angel—that she had not an equal in tue world, was the most beautiful, the most bewitching, elegant, etherial minded being, a tliat was ever sent below the clouds, I was sincere and confident ot tins I took every opportunity of seeing lier, and it by dm* ot courage and ingenuity I succeeded, ltattoiu ed inc a week's happiness .these weie all necessary, Sunday occasions when people look as well and talk us prettily as possible. At last an extra opportunity ot seeing the fair creature occurred—I was to go over the farm on an errand. An ambassador oil lus first introduction to the presence ot a sove reign, could not have made a better display uf iris wardrobe than I did of mine every hair was exactly adjusted—my hat put cure fully on—a pair of clean shoes under my arm; which were to be carried to the tann er's bars—-and, in short, I went as every love-sick blockhead goes the first time to see his mistress- most particularly line; and feeling most particularly foolish. I gained the awful bars that brought me in view of the more awtul presence ot my an gel—stuck my old siioes carefully under a log, put on my new ones, and went forward after having practised a now or two. Walk ing leisurely down the lane, as near the fence as possible, I met a drove of covvs, and a girl dressed in a dirty linsy frock, barefoot, and with her mouth and bosom he-smeared with mush and molasses, driving them for ward with sticks and stones—I met the com puny—heavens ! the driver was my Sunday flame—but what an angel 1 I threw my hat down in the road—rumpled my hair stuck botli mv shoes in the mud, and thought I 1 was never afterwards a was going crazy, verv enthusiastic lover. There is a plain, straight-forward way of trudging through this world; and we may as well accustom ourselves to it. first as last. Expecting nothing, we shall not be disap pointed—a little sceptical on many matters of appearance, we shall reach the reality without surprise; and the sooner vve arrive at the age of reason, perhaps the better it will be for us. Knp flic WiliniivtotliHIl. 1 or Uic Wilim.^io.iidii. NEW-ORLLANS On the evening of the 7th, and morning of the Itth of January. When General Jackson was appointed to thc 7th Military District, I was ordered to report myself to that brave anil gallant offi without delay. He had been appointed to one of the most important commands, and at thc most critical moment during the late war. Engineers were sent on by Govern ment to place Louisiana in a state'of defence, So dilatory hail they been, and so infatuated the inhabitants that, when the British I cer were arrived on our coast, but little preparation had been made for their reception, and comparatively nothing had been done for the defence of the Emporium of the West éra world, the most dangerously vulnerable point in our confederacy. We are the more surprized at this, as two Generals had held this command previously to the arrival of him, who was afterwards tobe the " Hero of Orleans." As the storm, which had long been gathering, was now about to burst, Government awoke from a sleep, which had - ucarly provrd to her that ot death ; but willing to make an atonement for her almost fatal inactivity, she looked around, among her sons of war, to make a selection of one who combined energy and experience with undoubted talent and invincible bravery, The Genius of our coilntrv presided at the j choice, and he was selected, who alone, per haps, was qualified. Previously to his arri- I v.d all lmd been dire confusion and wild dismay. The banks had suspended pay ment, commercial houses had refused to answer their bills, distress was seen dcpict ( ,j on cvcr y countenance, and the hydra fac tion ruled fur her brief hour. The legist* turc —, 10i 0 f them I will he silent ; for there wcro those among them, who were brave an ,\ honourable men. The field ot Villere a „,j t ] ie city of Orleans can tell it. The lii-itish were already on our coast with a tremendous force—the Indians were in train - ; ^ p ensaco l at under white barbarians— the Corsairs of Harrataria were tampered w pli i an d to the negroes were held cut the ), 0 p es 0 f freedom and of honour. Sediiious j )roc j ama tions were issued to the French and Spanish inhabitants. Man looked upon his |„„t| icr j h dismay, and knew not whom to Ci4 ]j |,j s f|.j em j, \s were the Jews, when surrounded by Titus, so wove the citizens of New-Oi-leans—divided among themselves, must have fallen ; but one had come w j )n W(|S determined t»t preserve them at every peril.—Every countenance assumed a nfw aS p ect 0 u his arrival, he had their con fldence, and full well lie deserved it. It was srm „ absolutely uccessnry to place the city un g e ,. , nar tj : ,| u-.v. I arrived in the ci rm t i 10 yth of January, and it was well knowI1 -tliet-o, the expected assault would ta |_ e j,i- xce on the morrow, and all able to hMp alMns y, a d repaired :o the camp and none remainerl but the aged and infirm, wo ^ mcn an(1 ; t w;lS a f ear t' u l thought tQ t j lem t j lat n // depended upon the is suc u f a battle.—The cannons' roar and the W ar-drum's foil, had been for some time the on ]y m ,isic that had lulled them to their s | um | )e ,. s . j Jut now ; t sounded more awful ] v dreadful. Ah! many were the rosy j ( ü 1( » cks blanched with terror—many were j t|)e lin s that quivered with fear; and many j wcre th( , uun i lcrs that clasped their chil I dren wildly to their breasts, "whilst they ; t ,- lttcI .]„ thought of the morrow." They I had much to lose, even were they successful, | y or husbands, brothers, sous and lovers were for husbands, brothers, sons and lovers | ahout t0 entet . thc bloody lists of death.— was as still as the house of mourn m j ing, the inhabitants had all now retired to .spend a night of anxiety, of watching, per j 0 fp Va yer.—The only sound that broke i the silence, was the heavvtrcadofthcsenli ne j on bis post. Finding it impossible to sleep,I walked upon the street. At a distance WuS beard that indescribable sound which p recc ,| cs a great convulsion in nature, a fr BC ting silence ot the city, the ilitermit ting roar of thc artillery and "the bombs bursting in air" conspired to render it one n f the lnost sublime and affecting sights that j evel . witnessed. I have seen the ocean in rage and the elements on fire; I havr secn the thunder roll and the winds rush up £bc waters ; I have seen the hero die, anil brave man struggle with the storms of f 1)rtul)e . but never was so forcibly affected as011 the present occasion. Wearied nature rK( . u j r ed some repose and I retired, but my ,i r eams were of battles lost and won. Thc W ar-cry of the British as they- advanced to t b c attack, distinctly resounded in my ear, t be rattling of the small arms, mixed with roar of the artillery was heard ; then £b(. clashing of the bayonets.—Now the s b|-ieks of the wounded anil the groans of ^ )e dying were borne on the sighing wind above the noise ot battle, and the l-iislring souni | 0 f many men was followed by all the horrors of a night-storm—I awoke in terror, my sword and rushed to the window _^ , f u j| gi a j was j to find it alt the cre a t| on 0 f a troubled fancy. The British were uat ic r arms during thc night and advanced j n so i ernn silence before day. When first ji SCOV ered, a single gun was fired at them, to which they answered with a shout that (jj^tinctly re-echoed thro' Ncw-Orleans. It caItl e like the toll of the hell of death upon the widowed heart. An awful cannonading succee ded, which, in a short time, suddenly ccascl j i and now the most tearful fnrebod i n v S of the result was entertained. jy e( [ t] )e cheek of female beauty, the hair of the brave bristled witli anxiety, and the blood ot all rushed cold to the heart. In this dreadful moment all the pangs of death were experienced and " thc boldest held Iris breath."—It passed, and again was heard the defying shout, and again the battle's din. YVc now breathed freely, we knew that our brethren had met the " Heroes of Welling ton" in deadly conflict and had not cravenly quailed beneath them. No intelligence had yet reached us ; all communication having been cut off between the camp and city by the Martial Law . At 8 0 . ? | 0ck the firing again ceased, and again fear usurped fier swav . i, u t a few painful moments had pass e d, when a young Officer, all black with smoke, dashed by the city and guard upon a foaming steed, and rode to the Govern nr's Head Quarters. His appearance was hailed witli acclamations ; numerous were the enquiries put to him, to which, so urgent was his business, he could only smile an an wer ; but that was the look of victory. It illy comported with the grim look of war. or the dejected countenance of defeat.— I Now there was a rush of thc multitude to I The The rose the residence of the Govornor, and he soon uppeared to confirm the tale of anticipated joy.—One deep heart-felt huzza followed, which immediately gave place to more rév erend feelings. The women wept, the de vont bent their knees in thankfulness, and all were grateful to the Ruler of armies, After the first burst of feeling had passed, there was a time for reflection—many were the wives and many were the maidens that repented for, perhaps, their untimely joy ; they knew not, but that many a friend, dear cr to them than life itselfj slept in theij blood upon the bed of honour. But when officially informed of victory and loss, even the Atheist's eye would have turned in ad oration to that God who rules the whirl winds in their rage, and guides the fiery j storm of war. SIDNEY", I Since he first crossed the Alps, De Brce had become a passionate admirer of Italian women. He was struck with their beauty, hut he was more forcibly struck by that grace of the mind, that happy mixture of softness and passion, of quickness and sim plicity, of playfulness and melancholy, which form the peculiar charm of the daughters of Italy. Resembling children in some re spects, especially in what relates to mental endowments, thev, in all that is connected with the heart, astonish man by their courage, disinterestedness and self-devotion. Bountiful nature has done every thing for them; education hut little. Their passions are allowed to grow in wild luxuriance, but their passions arc generally of the softer kind, and no women in the world are more naturally charitable and benevolent than the Italian women. Little inclined tovani tv, they are pleased with their conquests for their own sakes : thev seldom make a dis pUiv of their power, except towards a per SBn 'whom they really wish to captivate, an d when once they have him bound in their silken fetters, they little care tiiat others should witness their triumph. With them jt is the heart, and not the mind, that must f, e satisfied. Hence the mystery, the si« lence, the apparent dulness, which general \y attend Italian courtship. A stranger W nuld hardly suppose in seeing two persons of different sexes, sitting apart in company, seldom uttering a word to one another, hardlv looking toward each other, at least apparently—hardly would a stranger sup pose that those two are the warmest, most passionate uf lovers. Although seemingly indifferent, they contrive to be so placed as to be constantly in each other's view du r j n g the vvhole evening, and a glance, a slight motion, supply with them the place of the most expressive words of affection, or entreaty of displeasure, or threatening. The same is often to he observed at church, in the theatres, ami at the public walks. aucpiivre is common to noble and plebian, to citizen and peasant, pear dull to a foreigner, but the Italians determined to love for themselves, and not for the gratification of vanity. 00.XaX.Z20T A V 2 A. ITALIAN WOMEN. From Anselm >, a Tale of Italy, by A. Viessicux. This ui All this may ap see ill James Ogilvie, who acquired great and just celebrity in the United States a few years since for his rhetorical performances, slave to the immoderate use of opium. The following passage extracted from a man uscript letter to a friend, is descriptive of of the fierce but ineffectual struggles of powerful mind, against the tyranny of a noxious habit to which he became the slave, and perhaps the sacrifice. "I had been long in this way, before 1 changed my place of residence. Physicians I told me death would be the certain conse quence of the disuse ot tlie drug: I felt ghat its use must soon destroy me; and tardy suicide in any view, is no less criminal than immediate self-destruction. My mind re volted from thc idea. On the first night after mv arrival, my frame was exhausted ith fatigue and I slept. Tile greater part of the second was passed in writing, and then I retired to rest—but it was not rest—it was horrible dream; every individual fibre ap peared to have its peculiar pang; sense brought agony. I suffered the tortures of the damned. Twice I rose and put the vial of laudanum to my lips—twice I put it away untasted. I was in most excru ciating pain, and I rose thc* third time—but ened the window with I it out on thc wus a one i a ev cry 1 plucked ,t away, op desperate resolution and thre ground.--When I saw its fragments glitter in the moonlight, I felt a sentiment of tri umph—I am regenerated—but it is as res urrection from thc grave. Before, I was lan guid and nerveless as anew born infant—now I have regained health, strength and spirits —and look back on my infatuation with hor ror. ON MARIIIAGE. Among the marks of modern profligacy mnv be enumerated the reluctancy with which fhung men enter the marriage state. The afflictions of many are in vain solicited by other charms than those of lucre. times seem to be past when in the prime of life virtuous love led young men to select a companion for the amiable qualities of her mind and person, independently ot all con siderations.—The loveliest of women may now pine in hopeless celibacy ; for if they cannot purchase a husband, as they would a dress with the contents ot their purse, they may live and die without one ! In vain has nature given them a yermil cheek, and the eye ot sensibility, it fortune has refused her more brilliant gifts. Voung men gaze at them, indeed, like children at the Peacock, and turn away without any sentiment, or at least, without any wish to possess that beau ty they admire, on honourable conditions. It is indeed observable, that young men too often consider marriage tin evil in itself, only The to be incurred when the pecuniary advanta ges attending it afford a compensation. For the sake of the good, it seems they sometimes condeseend to accept the evil; a most insult ing opinion, and no less unreasonable and untrue than contumelious; for marriage is favorable to every virtue that can contrib ute to the comfort and happiness of the in dividual, while it is most essentially the in terest of society. He who delivers sermons composed by other men, is very often led into mistakes. A German divine says; "one of those retail ers of small ware, having picked up a ser mon composed some years before, when the plague was raging in the country, preached it to the congregation on the Lord's day. Towards the close having sharply reprov ed vice, he added, "for these vices it is, that God has visited you and your families with that cruel scourge, the plague, which is now spreading every where in this town." At his uttering these words, the people were all so thunderstruck, that the chief ma gistrate was obliged to go to the pulpit, and ask, "for God's sake, sir, pardon the inter ruption. and inform me where the plague is, that I may instantly endeavor to prevent its further spreading." "The plague sir!" re plied the preacher, "I know nothing about the plague : Whether it is in town or not, it is in my sermon." Women are like books; malice and envy will easily lead you to a detection of their faults; but their beauties, good judgment on ly can discover, and good nature relish. Benevolence is the light and joy of a good mind: 'It is better to give than to receive. 1 Despise not the meanest of mankind, • wasp may sting a giant. A coffer without a lock, shows that it con tains no treasure; as a mouth always open, denotes an empty brain. From the New-Haven Journal. THE RATS IN THE CELLAR. Being a tavern-keeper in the town of Go tham, and having two waiters and no cat I have been for some time much troubled with rats. The rats were over head, be tween ceilings, in the closets, in the bar, and in the cellar. Neighbour Grumple, the stavmaker, came sometimes to sit with me in the bar, of an evening. Talking over our grievances, he complained of his wife; but, I being a widower, when it came to my turn, I talked about the rats. Neighbour Grutr ple wished his wife among them, and for my part, ifithadnot been uncivil, I could have found in my heart to wish them at his wife. But, says I seriously, what are we to do with these rats ? They get into the bar, they eat the bread and cheese, and then the beer. Oh, pop! poo! stop there, said neighbour Grumple—rats drink beer! Well, I don't know, says I, but there is cer tainly much beer wasted ; and did you ever know that they dip their tails into long neck bottles, and let one another suck them ?— Neighbour, said Grumple, you astonish me ! —hut I have a trap—let me lend you my trap, and I'll insure you plenty of rats. I have plenty of rats already, said I.. Well, I mean to assure your catching plenty. So neighbour Grumple and I talked till bed time, and then he went away, and the next morning he brought me the trap. It was a trap, like a man trap, with great teeth. So, says I, neighbour Grumple, you don't want to catch men ? Neighbour Grumple, good soul, looked as pale as death, the very idea of catching men seemed to make him shudder. Well, I set the trap in the bur, and behold next morning I found a it sure enough, stone dead with a great lump of cheese in his mouth. I set it for several nights, and always got a rat next morning. one morning I caught a large rat with a cork in Iris mouth ! new, however, of corks ! After all, I considered it not very remarkable for the devils to be fond of corks, when they were so marvellous fond of bottles. In about three weeks I found all the rats gone out of the bar ; but still they made a great noise in the cellar. Says I, my boy* I'll bring down vour music. So I set the trap in the cellar. the cellar did not understand it: they never even put their foot in it—still they made a great noise. One night Sopkins the tailor came in, and I told him all this. Says he, set a lighted candle in the cellar, and they will see the cheese ill the trap, and I'll warrant you they will take it. This was a scheme of neighbour Sopkins, for I always thought that rats were fond of darkness— that they were creatures which 'loved dark ratlier than light, because their deeds were evil.' However, I thought I would trv the candle. I told John and Joe, my two waiters, to be sure to set a lighted candle in the cellar, and I said by way of joke, that we would pay every attention to the company there. 1 he waiters started at me—I laughed at them, and they laughed harder than ever. Well done my boys said I, 1 see you can enjoy a joke. So they set a lighted candle in the cellar. , The first morning after the light, there fine large rat in the trap just under my rat in There was no more cheese, but Well, this is something How came rats to be fond But somehowr the rats in ness was a best pipe of port, which I sell from the wood at five shillings the full quart. Bless mv soul exclaimed I, how the fellow has been bleeding ! The floor seemed covered with blood : I tried ta find where he had been wounded, but I could find no mark of bruise, stab, or tare about him. He had been bathed in blood; lus under part had been quite soaked in it. Well thinks 1 there must have been a battle; and this word bat tle made me think of bottle—people so oftçn have battles over the bottle, and with that, I held the rat to my nose. What do you think, sir?—he smelt of port wine ! Oh! Oh! says I, I smell a rat! It was a new tiring to me, how any rat should drink port wine.