The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware advertiser. [volume], November 16, 1826, Image 1

About The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware advertiser. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1825-1827

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AND DELAWARE ADVERTISER.
Published, every Thursday by WILLIAM A. MENDENHALL, No. 81, Market-st. (three doors above the Farmer's Bank,)—(£7" where Subscriptions, Jobs and Advertisements, will be gratefully received../^
VOL. IV.
No. 8
NOVEMBER 16,1826
.'citing
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TEEMS .— Advertisements not
_
THE CONTRAST.
J]y J. G. Perchai
To his gallant horse the warrior sprung—
They called and he would not stay,
And the hoofs of his hurrying charger rung,
As to battle ho rushed away.
She stood aloft on the warder's tower,
And she followed him over the plain,
And she watched him through many a silent
hour—
But she heard not his tramp again.
They came, when the morning was cold and
pale,
With a warrior on his bier,
And his banner rent, like a tattered sail,
Showed he died not the death of fear:
They brought him iu pride and sorrow, back
To the home he had left so gay,
When he gallantly flew on glory's track;
And to battle rushed away.
J
From the New-Finland Galaxy.
I THE mind's THE STAN]
Tin OF THE MAT.
IValts.
Carlos is handsome, lively gay,
And quite polite, the ladies say;
He bears a noble, manly purl,
Is nottoo tall, nor yet 'no short,
His dress is buckish, showy, line
up all, "he cuts a shine!"
His niiul—you must excuse him there,
Of other things he has his share,
And, haply, more—but, as for wit,
Poor soul he lias not got a hit.
Vetstilll lie moves with perfect case,
And never fails the dames to please,
For dazzled by his bright exterior,
Carlos with them has no superior.
But tie can chatter fast enough,
If you will listen to his stuff;
And sometimes, too, this beau, so pretty,
Will strive to be most wondrous witty.
Once, passing down a certain street,
A scavenger he chanced to meet—
So thinking lie would 'smoke' the clown,
And add somewhat to his renown,
He strutted up with brazen phiz,
Hoping the plebian to quiz.
"You take all rubbish here?" lie rried,
"Oh! yes—•jump ill!" the man replied.
A peal of laughter, long and loud,
Now burst from the surrounding crowd.
Poor Carlos sneaked off, all forlorn,
His laurels tarnished, soiled and torn!
External show and specious grace,
Are nought hut ribbons, cambric, lace;
A rustic garb, and artless mien,
Conjoin'd with worth is often seen—
Deny this axiom, who can,
"The mind's the standard of a man."
To 8
«
THE EADSES' FRIEND.
YOUNG LADIES.
Next to mothers, the young ladies have
the greatest agency in forming the charac
ters of the other sex. Their influence com
mences at a period when it is most needed.
Young men, although their characters are
in a great measure formed, require some
powerful restraints, just at the time when
they are becoming acquainted with the
world, and are beginning to move beyond a
mother's eye. The young females, with
whom they associate, are the guardians of
their virtues, and accountable for most ot
the evil practices into which they fall. It
requires but little observation to be convinc
ed that multitudes of young men, who are
destitute of religious principles, pursue that
line of conduct which is most likely to meet
the views of the young ladies with whom
they associate, and whose approbation they
desire to obtain. There is not a vice prev
alent among them that would not be relin
quished, were it reprobated, and the perpe
trators of it avoided by the young, the fash
ionable, and the intelligent of the sex. None
but the most hardened and impudent blas
phemer will even now utter an oath in the!
presence of any respectable female. If the
omission to do good or to prevent evil, when
in one's power, be a crime, what a tremen
dous account we shall have to render on the
score of profaneness, intemperance, gam
bling, and duelling! These practices which
disturb the peace of society, mar the happi
ness of families, hurry multitudes to death,
perdition, and must ultimately call down the
indignation of Heaven on our country, might
be greatly, if not entirely, exterminated, by
a rigorous and judicious effort on the part of
our sex. Let the practices themselves be
uniformly mentioned in terms of reprobation,
and let us avoid those who pursue them as
we would the midnight assassin, or the
S r eat adversary of God and man.
FEMALE TEMPER.
It is particularly necessary for girls to ac
quire command of temper, because much of
the effect of their powers of reasoning and
of their wit, when they grow up, depend up
on the gentleness and good humour with
fnich they conduct themselves. A woman
tvho should attempt to thunder with her
^ongue, would not find her eloquence in
^^ts^ier domestic happiness. Wé do not
I their better judgment to their fathers, or
j husbands, but let them support the cause of
i reason with all the graces of female gentle
ness.
j A man in a furious passion is terrible to
| his enemies; but a woman, in a passion is
distrusting to her friends ; she loses all the
: ,. t . s nect due to Iter sex, and she has not mas
, cu |ine strength and courage to enforce any
0 ther kind of respect. These circumstan
ces should be considered be those
v ; He tUat no d.fFerence should be made in
ho ad
the education of the two sexes.
The happiness and influence of women,
both as wives and mothers, and indeed, in
every relation, so much depends on their
temper, that it ought to be most carefully
cultivated. We should not softer girls to
imagine that they ran balance ill humour by
some good quality or accomplishment, be
| cause, in fact, there are none that can sup
! ply the want of temper in the female sex.
PLEASURE.
Pleasure is to women what the sun is to
the flower; if moderately enjoyed, it beauti
fies, it refreshens, and it improves; if immo
derately enjoyed, it withers, violates, and
destroys. But the duties of domestic life, ex
ercised as they must be in retirement, and
calling forth all the sensibilities of the fe
male, are, perhaps, as necessary to tile full
developing of her charms as the shade and
the shower are to the rose, confining its beau
ty and increasing its fragrance.
Without virtue, good sense and sweetness
of disposition, the finest set of features
ere long, cease to please—but, where these
witli the graces are united, it must afford an
agreeable and pleasing contemplation.
; ill.
THU M02JÏTÔR.
"While we thus walk among the ruins of
the past, a Bail feeling of insecurity comes
over us, and that feeling is by no means di
minished when we arrive at home. If we
turn to our friends, we can hardly speak to
them before they bid us farewell. We see
them for a little while, and in a few
ments they are sent away from us. It mat
ters not how near and dear they arc. The
ties that bind us to them are never too close
to be parted or too strong to be broken.
Tears are never known to move the king of
terrors, nor is it enough that we are compell
ed to surrender one or two or more of those
mo
we love; for though the price is so great, we
buy no favor with it, and our hold upon those j
who remain is as slight as ever.
"When a few more friends have left, a
few more hopes deceived, and a few more
changes mocked us, "we shall be brought to
the grave, and the clods of the valley shall
be sweet unto us, and as many shall follow
us, as they were innumerable before us."
All power will have forsaken the strongest,
and the loftiest will be laid low; and every
heart will have ceased its beating, and when
we have gone ourselves, even our memories
will not stay behind us. A few of the more i
near and dear will bear our likeness iu their [
I
j
the dark
dwelling of forgetfullness. In the thoughts !
of others, we shall live only till the last ]
sound of the bell, which informs them of our
, , „ .....
departure, shall cease to vibrate in their
ears."
bosoms, till they too have arrived at the end
of their pilgrimage, and enter
FALL OF THE LEAF.
See the leaves around us falling-,
I)rv and wither'd, to the ground;
Thus to thoughtless mortals calling;
In a sad and solemn sound:
"Sons of Adam, (once in Eden,
When, like us, he blighted fell,)
Hear the lectures we are reading,
"Fis, alas! the truth we tell.
"Virgins, much, too much presuming
On your boasted white and red,
View us, late in beauty blooming,
Numbered now among the dead.
"Youths, though vet no losses grieve you,
Gay in health and many a grace;
Let not cloudless skies deceive you;
Summer gives to autumn place.
"Yearly in our course returning,
Messengers of shortest stay;
Thus we preach, this truth affirming,
Heaven and earth shall pass away.
On the Tree of Life eternal,
Man, let all thy hopes be staid,
That alone, forever vernal,
Bears a leaf that shall not fade."
Solid comfort may be copiously derived
from the following sources; a quiet con
science—health—liberty—one's time one's
own; or if not, usefully, innocently and mod
erately employed by others—a freedom from
inordinate passions of all kinds—a habit of
living within one's income, and of saving
something for extraordinary occasions—an
ability arising from rational economy to de
fray all necessary and expedient expenses—
habit of good humour, and aptitude to he
pleased rather than to offend—a preparation
for adversity—love of one's family—sinceri
ty to friends—benevolence to mankind—and
piety to God.
If you would be a nuisance, be a drunkard,
for the approach of a drunkard is like that
a
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i
11
MARIE ANTOINETTE.
From the Secret Memoirs of the Royal Family of j
France during the Revolution.
These memoirs are compiled from the
journal of the Princess Lanibelle, by her
confidential friend,and no doubt appears to be
entertained of their authenticity in France
In them are some very interesting anecdotes
of tlie murdered Queen, the beautiful Ma
rie Atoinette—her of whom Burke truly said,
that the age of chivalry was gone, or ten
thousand swords would have leapt from tkeir
scabbards to avenge her.
" One day," says the Princess Lambelle,
" her majesty, lady Spencer, and tnyself,
were observing the difficulty there was in
obtaining a correct pronunciation of the
English language; when Lady Spencer re
niai ked that it only required a little atten
'I beg your pardon,' said the Queen,
'that's not all, because there are many
things you do not call by their proper names,
as they are in the dictionary.' 'Pray, what
are they, please your Majesty?'
will give you an instance: for example, lex
culottes, what do vou call them?' 'Small
clothes,' replied her ladyship 'Mu foi.' how j
can they be called sunl clothes, tor one
larjçe man? Now I look in the dictionary and
I find pour le mot cull ties, breeches ' '01''
incase your Majesty, we never call them by
that name in England.* f tola done j at rt, - j
sm. We say inexpressibles. • ' , ' i4 i
mieux. Hat do please me ver much be'u-r.
II y adu bons sens lu dedans. C es. a .,-1
• re chose. In the midstoi t.us cunous di.i- |
higue.in came the Duke ot Dorset, Lord -
h.Umrd Dillon, Count Fersen and sever;..
English gentlemen who, as they were all
going to the king s hunt, were all dressed in ,
new buckskin breeches. 'I do no' ,:ue, ex- .
claimed the Queen to them, 'those yellow
irrésistibles" Lady Spencer nearly futnteri. j
\ at make you so frightful, my dear lady.
said the Queen to her ladyship, who was co- j
vermg her face with her hands. 'J am tern-j
Red at your Majesty s mistake. . Comment, j
did you no tell me just now, dat in England ,
de lady call de culottes, irreristiblesu |
mercy! I never could.have made such a mis- |
take, as to have applied to that liai t of the
I said, please your
On this the gen
'V ell, veil,
tion.
•Well, I
male dress such a word,
majesty, inexpressibles.'
tlemen laughed most heartily,
replied the Queen, Mo my dearlady discom
pose yourself. I vill no more call de breech
es irrésistibles, but say small clothes, if ever
elles sont upon a giant ' At the repetition
of the naughty word breeches, poor lady
Spencer's English delicacy quite overcame
her. Forgetting where she was, and the
company she was in, she ran from the
j room with her cross stick in her hand,
ready to lay it on the shoulders of any one
who should attempt to obstruct her passage,
flew into her carriage, and drove off, full
speed, as if fearful of being contaminated;
all to the no small amusement of the male
that form
[ heart in her favor; at that moment a horde
I of miscreants, just as she came in sight of
j the assembly, thundered in her ears, 'Or-j
leans for ever." three or four times, while
she and the king were left to pass unheeded,
] Even the warning of the letter, from which
s,le had reason to expect commotions, sug
gested to her imagination nothing like this,
and s!le was drea dfuUy shaken. I sprang
forward to support her. The King's party,
prepared fertile attack, shouted. 'Vive le
roi. I ive la reine!' As I turned, I saw
some of the members lividly pale, as if fear
ing their machinations had been discovered;
but as they passed, they said in the hearing
of her majesty, 'Remember you are the
daughter of Maria Theresa !'—'True !' an
swered the queen. The Duke deBiron, Or
leans, Lafayette, Mirabeau, and the Mayor
of Paris, seeing her emotion, came up, and
were going to stop the procession. All, in
apparent agitation, [the scoundrels!] cried
out 'Huit!' The Queen, sternly looking at
them, made a sign with her head to proceed,
recovered herself, and moved forward in the
train, with all the dignity and self-posses
sion for which she was so eminently distin
guished. But this self-command in public
proved nearly fatal to her Majesty on her re
turn to her apartment. There her real
feelings broke forth, and the violence was
so great as to cause the bracelets on her
wrists, and the pearls on her necklace, to
burst from the threads and settings, before
her woman, and the ladies in attendance,
could have time to take them off. She re
mained many hours in a most alarming state
ot strong convulsions. Her clothes were
obliged to be cut from her body to give her
ease; but as soon as she was undressed, and
tears came to her relief, she flew alternately
to the Princess Elizabeth and myself; but we
were both too much overwhelmed to give
her that consolation of which she stood so
much iu need."
guests."
An anecdote of another class will be read
with interest.
"May 5, 1789.—At the very moment when
all the resources of nature and art seemed
exhausted, to render the queen a paragon of
loveliness beyond any tiling I had ever be
fore witnessed, even in her; when every im
partial eye was eager to behold and feast on
armed every
whose beauty
From "Paul Pry, on his Travels."
It is extremely rare to see a French fam
ily with half a dozen children. There are
two reasons, I am told, for this; first, the ex
pense of bringing them up; and, what is con
sidered as vastly more important, their be
ing a drawback enthe pleasures of the moth
er; the delights ot the opera and the bull
must not be sacrificed to a parcel of brats :
besides, they would make her look so old,
and then who could support the ridicule of
being pointed out as having half a dozen
children when it is the fashion not to exceed
two?
There is a system in France that I like;
I has none, adopts as their own, a fine child
belonging to a friend, or more generally to
some poor person, (for the laws of pop
ulation in the poor differ from those in the
rich,) the adoption is regularly registered
| by the civil authorities, and the child be
i comes heir-at-law to the property of its new
parents, and cannot be disinherited by any
subsequent caprice of the parties; they are |
bound to support it suitably to their rank, j
and indeed to do every thing due to their
own offspring.
I do nut think it can be called a digress
ion to turn from the subject of children to
that of marriages.—There are at least a doz
en advertising match-makers in Paris; and
every day in the year we find, in the petites
affiches, advertisements of maids and
widows, witli from £'500 to £50,000 fortune,
The most celebrated of these match-makers
is a M. Yilliautlie, a man decidedly born
with the organ of conjunction, wherever it
may lie; and he has proved that great wit
to madness is nearly allied : the providing
for so many damsels turned his brain, and
pour Yillianme was sent toCharenton (Bed
lam;) but his ruling passion was strong in
j
j m;ujne d om , of M , prnjects on arriv ing
th llU the lunatics to each
ot t ier _jjj s p |. in
so ' rted matc f le ' a .„ Ue> therefore, carefully
; in . d ofeach cra2v illmilte what was hi ' s
j ra * society and the state of his fortune;
i and was delighted to find that he was in
t , Jf .. ^ , ,. eam *f societv . There were a
cm ,, de (l f emperors, five kings, princes,
| dld ., s marquises, counts, barons, amlgeu
- ab ' undance . They all possessed
L. )lemVu] fortunes. V.lliautne entered every
j^.,, in a bookj antl ,,. aCh Eiglic . a the docu .
, mel)t that concerned him ne varietur-, and
. anothel . | )ook thev signed an engagement
F villiaume to pay him a handsome per
j centage on the fortunes of the ladies they
m jgh t marrv. In the mean time, he tonne!
j means to g e t a message sent to the female
ward , requesting the ladies to state their
rankSi a g es> fortunes, See. Answers came
f rom them all in the same style as that of 1
tlie men; and Villiaume anticipated a gold
en harvest, in the firm persuasion that all
the accounts furnished were accurate and un
questionable. Unfortunately, a tew ice poul
tices on M. Villiau.ne's head dissipated the
splendid dream, and he found the surest ue
gociations would be at his old establishment
in the Hue Neuve St. Eustache.
never to make ill-as
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS.
BUENOS AYES.
From Capt. Head's Journey across the Pampas.
Buenos Ayres is far from being an agree
able residence for those who are accustom
ed to English comforts. The water is ex
tremely impure, scarce and consequently ex
pensive. The town is badly paved and dir
ty, and the houses are the most comfortless
abodes I ever entered. The walls, from the
climate, are damp mouldy, and discoloured.
The floors are badly paved with bricks,
which are generally cracked and often in
holes. The roofs have no ceiling, and the
families have no idea of warming themselves
except by hudling round a fire cf charcoal,
which is put outside the door until the car
bonic acid gas has rolled away.
Some of the principal famines at Buenos
Ayres furnish their rooms in a very expens
ive but comfortless manner; they put down
upon their brick floor, a brilliant Brussels
carpet, bang a lustre from the rafters, and
place against the damp wall, which they
whitewash, a number tawdry North-Amer
ican chairs. They get an English piano forte,
and some marble vases; but they have no
idea of grouping their furniture into a com
fortable form. The ladies sit with their
hocks against the wall, without any apparent
means of employing themselves; and when
a stranger calls upon them, lie is much sur
prised to find they have the uncourteous cus
tom of never rising from their chairs.
I had no time to enter into any society at
Buenos A vres, and the rooms looked so com
fortless, that, to tell the truth, I had little
inclination. The society at Buenos Ayres is
composed of English and French merchants,
with a German or two. The foreign mer
chants are generally agents of European
houses; and as the customs of the Span: -h
South Americans, their food, and the hours
at which they eat it, are different from those
of the English and French, there does not
appear to be much communication between
them.
At Buenos Ayres, the men and women
are rarely seen walking together; at the the
atre they are completely separated; and it
is cheerless to see all the ladies sitting to
gether in the boxes, while the men are in the
pit—slaves, common sailors, soldies, and
merchants, all members of the same Kepub
lie.
The town is furnished with provisions by
the Gauchos, in a manner that shows great
want of attention to those arrangements
which are generally met with in civilized
communities. Milk, eggs, fruit, vegetables
and beef, are brought into the town by in
dividuals at a gallop, and they are onlv to
bu had when they choose to bring them. The
articles of life are brought together without
due arrangement, and the consequence is,
that (excepting beef) they are dearer than
in London, and sometimes are not to be had
at all.—I happened to leave Buenos A) res
just as the fig season was over, and though
it was the middle of summer, no fruit was
to be had, the towns people seemed to be
quite satisfied with this reason, and I could
not persuade them that some one should
arrange a constant supply and succession
of fruits and nut leave it entirely to the
Gaucho. But the same want of arrange
ment exists in all instances. If one has
been taken out to a dinner in a carriage,
and in the evening ventures to iaquire why
it has not arrived, the answer is, that it is
raining, and that those who let carriages
will nut allow them to go out if it rains.
Ayres, I lived in a house out of the town
which was opposite the English burying
ground, and very near the place where the
cattle were killed. This latter spot was a
bout four or five acres, and was altogether
devoid of pasture; at one end of it there was
a large coral enclosed by rough stakes, and
| divided into a number of pens, each of which
j had a separate gate. These cells were al
ways full of cattle doomed for slaughter. I
several times had occasion to ride over the
field, and it was curious to see its different
appearances. In passing it in the day or e
veiling, no human being was to be seen; the
cattle, up to their knees in mud, and with
nothing to eat were standing in the sun, ocs
casionally lowing or rather roaring to each
other.
During the short time I was at Buenos
1 skinned, while occasionally one would break
the lasso. The horse would often fall upon
his rider, and the bullock would labor to re
gain his liberty, until the horseman in full
speed caught him with his lasso, tripping
him off the ground in a manner that might
apparently break every bone in his body. I
w as more than once in the middle of this odd
scene, and was really sometimes obliged to
gallop for my life, without exactly knowing
where to go for it was often Scylly and Char
ybdis.
I was one day going home from this scene,
when I saw a man on foot, select a very large
pig from a herd, and throw a lasso over his
neck; he pulled it with all his strength, but
the jiig had no idea of obeying the summons;
in an instant, a little child rode up, and very
quietly taking the end of the lasso from,the
man, lie lifted up the sheep-skin which cov
ered the saddle, fixed the lasso to the ring
w rich is there made for it, and then instant
ly set off at a gallop. Never did any one see
an obstinate animal so completely conquer
ed! With his tail pointing to the ground,
hanging back, and with his four feet all
stretched along the ground, like the teeth of
a harrow, he followed the boy evidently a
gainst his will; and the sight was so strange,
that 1 instantly galloped after the pig, to
watch his countenance. He was as obstinate
as ever, until the lasso choked him, and he
then fainted, and fell on his side. The boy
dragged him in this state at a gollop, more
than three quarters of a mile over hard,
rough ground, and at last suddenly stopped,
and jumping off his horse, began to unloose
the lasso ;—"Sta tneurto !" (he is dead) said
I to the bov, really sorry for the pig's fate;—
"Sta vivo !" exclaimed the child, as he
vaulted on his horse and galloped away. I
watched the pig for some time, and was ob
serving the blood on his nose, when, to my
great surprise, he began to kick his hind
leg; he then opened his mouth, and, at last,
liis eyes; and after he had looked about him
(a little like Clarence after his dream,) he
gut up, and very leisurely walked to a herd of
ten or twelve pigs about the same size as
himself, who were about twenty yards off.
I slowly followed hiffi, and when I came up
to the herd, I saw they had every one of
them bloody noses.
The ground in every direction was cover
ed with groups of large white gulls, some of
which were earnestly picking at the slops of
blood which they had surrounded, while oth
ers were standing on their tiptoes and flap
ping their wings as if to recover their appe
tite. Each slop of blood was the spot where
a bullock had died; it was all that was left
of his history, and pigs and gulls were ra
pidly consuming it. Early in the morning
no blood was to be seen; a number of horses,
with the lassos hanging to their saddles,
were standing in groups apparently asleep^
the Mataderos were either sitting or lying
on the ground close to the stakes of the coral,
and smoking segars; while the cattle, with
out metaphor, were waiting until the last
hour of their existenence should strike; for
as soon as the clock of the Recolata struck,
the men all vaulted on their horses, the
gates of all the cells were opened, and in a
few seconds there was a scene of apparent
confusion which it was quite impossible to
describe. Every man had a wild bullock at
the end of his lasso; some of these animals
were running away from the horses, anti
some were running at them; many were
roaring, some were hamstrung and running
about on their stumps, some were killed and
MISERIES OF A BALL ROOM.
Lamentation 1.—After repeated warnings
to be at your place of rendezvous; prepared
to glide gaily through the "mazy dance," at
a remarkably early hour—to be obliged,
through the tardiness of the managers in
distributing tickets, and the difficulty the
company cause in replying to their numbers,
to sit still two or three hours, filled with
anxious and disappointed expectation.
2. To be engaged to dance with a part
ner who blunders all the way down a coun
try dance, after receiving ten or a dozen
first rate invitations.
3. The plague of that complicated evolu
tion called "the right and left," from the
awkwardness of some and the inattention of
others.
4. To have for your partner, on your next
neighbor, a gentleman with a frock coat.
5. To have a new pair of gloves ruined on
account of your partner's neglecting to wear
his; or in plain English, to have your neat
white kids fall a scrifice to his parsimony.
6. Through the indifference of the
pany, to have a continuation of mistakes,
while dancing your favorite figure,
7. While in the act of taking your v
much admired balance, to be tripped up
with vour united shoe-suing.
8. While going down the middle, with
quick music, to be delighted with the sight
of your comb upon the floor, and your hail
flowing upon your shoulders.
9. Dancing half the night with a pair oi
shoes far too tight in length and breadth—
unmentionables cm every toe.
com
eri
Jemima Sensitive.