OCR Interpretation


The native American. [volume] (Washington City [i.e. Washington, D.C.]) 1837-1840, November 28, 1840, Image 1

Image and text provided by Library of Congress, Washington, DC

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn86053569/1840-11-28/ed-1/seq-1/

What is OCR?


Thumbnail for

rf r| ?
l)c llmwt
\c)wia aacDisipj
Voi.. IV.] CITY OF WASHINGTON,
?7?
?wn! sa??? ?? wm?s<r?? mm ??sarw??.
SATURDAY, NOVEMRE# 28, 1840. P*"'
l> O K T K Y.
ODE TO LIBERTY.
BY THE BOSTON BAUD.
When Fractio n, 'iwnth the battle stoi'in
Her weary head reclined ;
Ami round tier fair majestic form
Oppression fain had twined :
Amidst the <lin, beneath <l>e cloud,
Gr at Washington appear'd,
Willi daring hand roll'd back the shroud,
Ami th'is the autf'rer cheer'd :
"Spurn?spurn dispair! be great?be free,
With giant strength arise;
Stretch, stretch thy pinions, Liberty,
Tuy fl tg plant in the skies :
Clothe?clothe thyself in glory's robe,
Let stars thy banner's gein ;
Rule?rule the sea, possess the globe,
Wear victory's diadem.
Go tell the world a world is born,
Another orb gived light,
Another sun illumes the morn.
Another star the night.
He just, be brave, and let thy name.
Henceforth Columbia be
Wear?wear the oaken wreath of fame,
The wreath of Liberty."
He said, and lo! the stars of night,
Forth to he" banner flew,
And morn with pencil dipp'd in light,
Her blushes on it threw.
Columbia's chieftain seized the prize,
All gleriously u:Turl'd,
Soar'd with it to his native skies,
And wav'd it o'er the world.
SAMIVEL'S VISH.
I vants to marrv?yes I does?
I vants a little vife,
To comb my 'air and vash my neck,
An<! be my ail?my life.
Ven Adam lived- in Paradise,
He did'nt live content.
Till from his side a lib vos took,
And into voman beut.
Ju=t think how Adam must have stared
Vlien first he got avake,
And found himself a married inan,
Vithout e'en vedding cake.
I visli that I could do the same?
Jnst go to slepp some night,
And vake up in the morning vith
A vife to Mess my sight.
I'm werry bashful?yes. I am?
'Twouid save me lots of trouble,
To go to bed a single man.
And vake up as a double.
TIME.
Time was, is past; thou canst not it recall;
I ime is, thou hast; employ the portion small ;
Time future is not; and may never be;
Time present is the only time for thee.
From the Casket.
WILLIAM WOODS WORTH, THE
STATESMAN.
(IN NINE PARTS.)
By the Author of " The Exile's Grove," *' The
Retrospect," " Sketches." 8tc., See.
PAHT I.
THE MARRIAtfE.
Candida perpetuo reside, concordia, lecto,
Tampque, pari semper sit Venus a>i;ua jugo.
Diligit ipsa strt>cm quondam; sed et ilia marito,
Tun? tiuojue cum fucrit, nou videatur anus.
* [ Martial.
Their nuptial couch tnay smiling concord dress,
And Venus still the happy union bless!
Wrinkled with ag-*, miy mutihl lo?e and truth
To their dim eyes recall the bloom of youth.
They stood at the altar?both just ver
ging from youth to a more mature age?
both equally interesting?he handsome
and intelligent, she beautiful and accom
plished. They had long Known, admired
and loved each other; but owing to their
peculiar and almost distressing situations,
they had postponed their marriage until
this period. Charles Clifford, when he
first loved the gentle Maria, was a student
of law. dependent upon his own merits
and exertions lor support and patronage;
and Maria was a portionless orphan, de
pendent upon the cold charity of distant
relatives, though once the idol of wealthy
and indulgent parents. But Charles, now
established in the practice of his profes
sion, gaining a moderate salary, and rapid
ly increasing in popularity, was now so
happy as to ho able to lead his long be
trothed Maria to the altar. And now
there they stood, their countenances
beaming with love and happiness, and
their hearts filled with hope. They con
sidered their worst cares and sorrows as
hei* g brought to an end, and nought was
in expectance for them but love and enjoy
ment. Their horizon of existence was
unclouded; the sea upon which they had
launched was serene; and they
"Fondly deemed each wind and star a friend."
Happy pair! tiny your bright hopes of
happiness and your flattering dreams of
love, meet with a hanny realization : atid
mav your barks gnid ? smoothly on over
life's varied waves, until they safelyenter
their Fina' Port !
PART If.
THE VOYAGE.
To ft;el a fond hop*, when we sever.
Absence cannot affection chill.
And we may meet more dear than ever.
Five voars had passed. Charles and
Maria were residing upon a beautiful seat,
near the banks of the lovely stream which
flowed within a short distance of their na
tive place. They had not found marriage,
as many have, a cure for love, for now
after a five years' union, they loved as
sincerelyitn<l devotedly aswhen first unit
ed. Tiiey had as yet met with but few
sorrows or misfortunes, and the purity of
their lives was as yet untarnished by vice
or folly. Charles had become eminent .11
his profession, and popular among his ac
quaintances. He had twice occupied a
seat in bis-state' i legislature, which he had
tilled with talent and integrity, and was
now at the period to which we refer, pre
paring to visit Washington, as a delegate
to Congress.
It was a beautiful evening: the cares
and labors of the day were being
brought to a close: the sun was sinking
slowly behind
"The dim distant horizon:"
the laborer was returning home from his
work, and twilight gray was gently wind
ing her solt mantle around the children of
Nature, when the signal was given that
the vessel, lyni? near Clifford's seat, was
ready to depart. Charles proceeded to
the river side, accompanied by his fond
wile. He bid her a tender farewell, and
jumped into .the boat, which shoved off
from the shore, and commenced her voy
age. Maria remained upon the bank, and
gazed wistfully upon the bark, which was
conveying the idol of her heart away,
until the last vestige of it had receded
from her sight; and then, with a sigh,
sir returned to her home, rendered al
most desolate by the absence of her
Charles, to think of him.?Love in her
bosom was not the summer passion -of
properity.
PART III
THE YOUNG ORATOR.
But if force
Mns? yield to such inevitable shame,
As to olfend, mvselfbeinz o 'ended ;
So can I give iiO reason, nor I will not,
More than a lotlg'd hate. Shakspeare.
Clifford took his scat in Congress. He
did not immediately have an opportunity
of entering into discussion, or of making
himself known as a speaker, or a man of
any extraordinary powers.?But learning,
alter he had taken his seat, that in a few
days a question of a most exciting nature,
and of vital importance to the interest of
his country, would be brought before the
house for discussion, he determined to
make his first attempt at establishing him
self in the eyes of the community, as a
statesman and a patriot, by showing his
zeal, and exerting his powers upon the
subject.
The morning arrived when the ques
tion was to be discussed, and when Clif
ford, for the first time, was to occupy the
floor of Congress as a speaker. People
began to gather early, and soon the house
was crowded to overflowing. The ho r
approached for the commencement of the
debate. Charles' opponent, Mr. William
Woodswortli, spoke first. He was a man
of high order of intellect, and a cultivat
ed mind. Originally, he possessed noble
principles, and many virtuous qualitits,
but being thrown when young among as
sociates "of the most licentious ant un
principled stamp, he had become entire
ly changed?and instead of virtue and
honor, his heart was filled with, and his
actions governed by, envy, revenge, and
a host of other vicious qualities and pas
sions. He was one of those curses to
society, and that libel upon humanity,
called the duellist. And he was one, who
though stained with the blood of several
of his fellow men, and ^'j'lty of many
other crimes which would have u.2stcd
forever the prospects of those in a more
huinb'e sphere, was fawned upon in the
higher circles of society, and was the re
presentative in Congress of one of the
moat popular districts in his native state.
After Woodswortli had concluded, Clif
ford arose. The eyes of many of the
wisest and greatest of this country, as
well as of Europe, were fixed upon the
young orator. It was his first effort in
the house, and he was almost abashed.
With a low and quivering voice, and
trembling frame, he commenced. The
crowd moved nearer to catch his words,
to which i hey listened with deep, intense
interest. The orator became encouraged.
His voice grew more and more elevated;
his manner was no longer confused; and
his eyes sparkled with feeling. He en
tered into a clear elucidation of the ques
tion, showed its importance, and the goor
or injury that would result from its deci
sion. He then reviewed the argument
set forth by Woodswortli, and ably proved
that Woodswortli gave unten ible asser
tiousfor proofs, irreconcileuble contradic
tions, and broken metaphors for sublim
illustrations. Abruptness, irrelevance
and incongruity, swept Woodswortli
thoughts from the memory down to th
gulf of confusion, and thence theydashei'
rapidly through the auditory's minds, an
no more left a tracc or impression, tlia ?
the clear water does on the chrystal vas -
out of which it is poured. Clifford's idea
were clothed in eleg.int diction, and th
flowing harmony of his language, ov?1
which lofiy sentiments shed a lambet ?
and spirkluig beauty, was as free as th
vernal breeze. Woodsworth rolled his.
sentences in a rushing torrent, whose
sound, like the roar of the pealing thun
der, nlarmed (he heart and grated the ear,
but Clifford in that melody?murmuring
stream, which modulates the " music of
thought." True eloquence is a gift which
education or study cannot bestow, as, like
the "holy fire of poetry," ils ethereal
flame of inspiration must he caught from
the lightnings of heaven, and its solar
pathway must be only, pursued by the
soaring eagles of genius.
Woodsworth again occupied the floor;
but his speech was an entire failure, and
the question was lost. He had anticipated
an easy victory over "the inexperienced
youth," as he was pleased to call Charles,
believing him to be otie of but ordinary'
capacity, and knowing that he had but
few opportunities of establishing an in flu
ence in the house. He was much inte
rested personally in the decision of this
question, and when he lost it, he lost other
and more important concerns. He dis
covered that Clifford was his equal, il not
superior, in point of intellect, and was
gaining considerable popularity, and ma
ny strong friends, and would therefore be
a rival not to be despised. .
< That Clifford 1 have this day marked
out for my prey,' muttered Woodsworth,
as he walked to his room after the discus
sion. 'If he be suffered to pursue his pre
sent course,I see how it will end: /will be
the loser, he the gainer?he will supplant
me. But it shall not be?he and I are op- j
posed in all our views and principles?we I
understand and note each other?yes, 1
saw detestation in his every glance .?he
has even dared to thwart some of my
grandest schemes, and as i live he shall
repent it.'
But weeks and days passed away with
out Woodsworth finding an opportunity1
of provoking Clifford to a rupture. In the
meantime the latter was gaming influence'
and popularity, and the formers' malig
nant mendacity and bloated conceit and
malice were becoming almost ungoverna
ble.
PAKT IV.
the toast.
One bumper ? ? ? I -t^oush many
Have ??ircled the board since we met,
The fullest, the saddest of any
Remains to be crowned by us yet. Moore.
It was the anniversary night of some
great event connected with our country's
history, that a splendid fete was given at
the President's House, to which the prin
cipal members of both houses of Congress,
and many foreigners of rank, were invit
ed. There was the dark Spaniard, with
fiery eyes and curling mustacheos?the
sedate German,?the gay I' reuchmaii??
the witty Irishman?and the enthusiastic
Italian. And Indies, too, were there,~
those most celebrated for wit, beauty and
accomplishments. The splendid apart
ments were lighted np with brilliancy ;
conversations of the most entertaining
charater were entered into ; waltzing and
other kinds of dancing were executed by
elegant and fairy figures to perfection; the
grandest, softest music was breathed
around, and luxurious refreshments were
profusely distributed among the com
pany.
After having partaken of an elegant
supper, which consisted of viands as de
licate and various as any Apicious could
wish for, and as ample and luxurious as
ever smoked on the table ol aPlato. Xeuo
plion, or a Socrates, when celebrating the
Dalian Festivals, manyof the gentlemen
I retired into an adjoining apartment to
jdrin'r, converse, and entertain themselves
I ,ui Clitfr"! ?ud Woodsworth were
iimonff the number. The limped tonn
? ? Df mf>r,;d gratification played, the
of anecdote sparkled, niifl cast *10
gaiety of the scene, the vivid scintillations
of harmony. Every mind emitted the
rays of cheerfulness?every brow was
smooth, and every heart was a censer ef
fusing the effervescence of hilarity. The
glasses went round and round, and toast
alter toast was drank. At length Woods
worth was called upon for a toast. Long
wishing, as was before said, to come to
open hostilities with Clifford, and being
now excited by wine, he determined to
effefct that object, no matter how unrea
sonably he went about it. The glasses
were again filled.
< Here,' said Woodsworth, ' is a toast,
which no one present, it he be a gentle
man or patriot, will refuse to drink.'
Saying this he gave one, eulogising
certain principles and measures to which
lie was certain Charles was opposed. All
save Clifford drank the toast, lor though
some were as violently opposed to it as
himself, none had tho courage to brave
the ill will of the duelist.
'One glass is still full,'remarked Woods
worth, glancing at his enemy, who return
ed an unquailiug look a* he answered?
4 Yes, and it shall remain full; for I will
never be awed by you to contaminate my
lips by the drinking of that toast.'
' 'As you will, sir,' replied Woodsworth,
ill a rave, ' but I will not dastardly take
back what 1 once observed, but will re
peat it. that 110 gentleman or patriot
would refuse to drink my toast; so it'you
are either, 1 would advise you to empty
your glass.'
? 1 will,' said Charles, at the same time
throwing the contents of his glass into the
face of the duelist.
PART V.
the challenge.
Behold (he bh>e!>ng duelist! What angnish f,u a
ni? eye! A combination of evil passions tlMitfur e
tiis aspect, and the phreri/:/ of dc-pair fills hi J
brain, and drops fire into his heart. U. Pepper.
Charles Clifford was in his room alone .
During-the whole night he had not slept,
and the morning's dawn found him stil I
walking to and fro in his apartment, with t
a hurried step and an agitated couute- ?
nance.
'I was precipitate?rash, perhaps?bu't
his words were insulting and not to b< :
borne; and had I not resented them. ] (
would have been ruined. But the affaij ?
is not yet concluded. Woodsworth isno; t
one to bear such an affront as 1 gave him. .
No; I see how it will end. It will end
with death /'
A knock was heard at the door. Clif- ?
ford opened it- and a whiskered and per .
fumed little I* renchman. with many bow? i
and scrapps, entered the room.
' Monsieur Clifford. 1 presume?'said th< j
Frenchman, half inquiringly.
' Yes, sir, that is my name,'said Charles
rather contemptuously.
' Yo'i are, I suppose,Monsieur, the sam? i
gentleman who had a few unpleasan t
words last evening, with my friend, Mod .
sier Woodsworth'/'
' I'lie same. Have you any more que.*
tions to ask?'
'Why?hem?I believe not; but?bt n
if you have a fri?friend, Monsieur,. I
would be happy to enter into an honorab If
adjustment of this unpleasant dif? dif fi
culty,' said the Frenchman, very mm ;|
embarrassed.
4 You can have tke happiness of hot. o
rably adjusting this unpleasant di. fji
culty, if yon will call at the house of C ol
onel Clinton, whom I have authorized u
act as my friend. So good morning.' si lie
Charles, at the same time opening tin
door, and politely bowing the Frenchn uu
into the street.
1 The Frenchman posted off to Coir -n<:
|Clinton's room. He was 'at home,' < un
an interview took place between the st
conds, the result of which was that a ( hie
between Clifford and Woodsworth we s ti
ensue early the next morning.
PART vr.
THE LETTER.
As waters slugs a distant star.
We woo some light from Heaven afar,
I And, imaged in our soul, we dream
The wave that yawns arrests the beam;
Hushed in e fa)?e content, we stray.
And glide, perchance, to gloom away.
[ But 1 rer.
'T was noonday. Charles' wife and
child were sitting together in the ponfico
of their home. She had just received a
letter from her husband, in which fie
spoke joyfully of his success and popular
ity in the Capitol, of the numerous friends
he had obtained; was warm in the profes
sions of his unfaltering esteem and l ive
jand appointed a day for his return home.'
(The fond wife's eyes glistened with satis'
l faction; a joyful smile illumined Iter lovely
features, and she was happy?-happy in
the expectation of shortly 'seeing iiim
whom she loved, with all tin* fondness
strength, and devotion of a woman's jove!
A woman 'I >ves,and loves forever.' Her
a flection springs from the breast, unini
yoked by the wand of hope; unadulterated
uy the toucu of interest. Woman's love
is a limpid and lovely flow 6f feeling,
which pushes from the fountain-ht-ad o
I purity, and courses tlje heart, througl
Jsoid.'d passion, nnmingliug aud unsu.'.'.ied
I How much happiness was in store fo
j Maria! Her Charles would soon cltee.
[and make happy her home and domesti.
duties; again would they stray toaethe
over their familiar walks, through wood
groves, and by murmuring streams. Oli
ye brilliant hopes of wife! Why are y.
so deceitful? Why do ye blooru tun
flourish, only to fade away?
part vii .
THK DUEL.
" IMioId that weak, deluded man,
Pcssed on by vengeance dire,
With rage Pnkindlimr it! his brwujt,
An eye of rolling lfr?
bwift to false honor** field |,e flies; .
His valor to ril*play.
To meet hi* ntice tov'd bosom friend.
In horrid murd'rou' fray."
Morning dawned. Charles rose early,
and was soon with his second pn the
fatal ground. His opponent Hot then ap
pearing, he had leisure for reflection, which
ie unproved. He considered the proba
ble consequences of the unreasonable step
lie had taken ; murder would most pro
bably be the result. He knew Woods
worths implacable hatred toward htm
which now held the place of love; and
was confident he would not be satisfied
unti l either the one or the other leII. I
Wo. xls worth fell, and by his band, \
futu re lite would become embitter*id.
woi ild return to his innocent home a
fnu rlerer, and would not on y ? Ul ?
hin iself an eternal odium, but heap U
gra ce upon all the innocent objects of hi*
am iction. And on the other hand, if Ac
(ell ?which was most likely?Ins wile and
ch; ildren would be left unguarded, unpro
tec led m the wide world, and Ins own
br illianf, long cherished hopes of fame
an d happiness, would beat once dispelled:.
Ai id oh ! while these painful reflections
c. ossed his mind, how bitterly did he re
' n< Jilt his folly in thus placing himself in
th e duelist's power. But he had advanced
to o far to retreat, according to the world s
d1 ^lusiw idea of honor.
Woods worth and his second appeared
01 i the ground. Salutations and other
' c< iremonres having passed between the
s< sconds. the combatants were placed at
tl leir stations. Their arms, which weie
tr . send the death-dealing bullets, were
p repored and given to them. They were
r< iady. The "sun which had risen with
u nusmil brilliancy and splendor, now hid
h imself behind a dark, portentous cloud,
: if to shun the sight of the approaching,
di sgraceful deed. The words were
gi yen : one?two?three?fiie. ') he \ is
to Is were discharged. ( . ,
' I have done his work for him, in a 1
"i i a ted tone, Woodsworth remarked.
~ For n moment neither stirred : present
ly a shudder seemed to pass through the
fr; une of Clifford, he tiembled, tottered,
an d turning a last fond look toward his
jji; itant home, he fell to the ground a
bk 'Oily corpse.
part VIII.
THE MANIAC.
I i)is traeted ! En phrenzy ? H,*r '.pason.,r>0 vv'e*!k
r To withstand such a conflict ot passion ann f'*ar ;
1 Ab anrion'd its ihrone-o'er her once blooming
Cai d? the pale hue of Death?with a loud piercing
. ? nrkk , .
She swoon'd in convulsive despair ! ^ #
And mw, o'er the scenes of her childhood, forsak
1 fj fir
All pleasures and mirth, she a !n'nia'' gi^s ;
A vuwnfcrer wretched, ot gnef deeply partaking,
> While in t.-ars of deep sorrow, her heart, as il
1 breaking,
a Unbosems its keenly felt woes.
13 From a M. 8 Poem.
^ " It was ovetiing: a fine, balmy, evening,
. and the one upon which Clifford was to
, have returned home. Not far from his
mansion,seated upon a moss-covered rock,
near iho river side, sat the fond Maria,
il having her son playing beside her,
0 crazin ^ oil the great luminary sinking to
repose" in his sky-curtain d couch, and
umsimr on past d,?lights. She preferred
the soft serene, and silent hour ot the set
ting sun when the clustering clouds are
painted in variegated tints hy the fare
well smile of the glorious luminary, as it
was there I hat she and Charles used to
ruminate, w. Hi mmged sensations of joy,
on scenes con. recollection and
endeared by a& 'sociation
At such an h. ">ur of holy repose, when
the last rays of , 'gj'< die away, when the
sun lakes ofl' his fi'^ydiudem and depo
sit, it in a casket , "? clouds ; and when
the .la,Id stars t <ance through tether
the remembrance ot him she oved-of
f . i t It* upon the sensi
times forever past! sto ' . ..
, ... f , r , i? i i strain of native
oihty of her soul, like, . ~
? ? . on the ear of a
music m a strange clime,
disconsolate exile. , u
Maria and her child were x ,l ' .**"
tently for a view of the vesse w c , a\
to restore tothemtheirabi senth u,s?^ I
father. At length the boy raised 1 s
hands and joyfully exclaii ned
' See, dear mother, see, tl ?e vessel c tin .,
and father will soon be hei e.'
The vessel neared, and a pprc ?ached tne
shore. Maria stood upon tl ie hi ink, wait
ing with glistening eye an d I
heart, the landing of her beloved Charles .
but he came not. At length sc. >me one
ljumped on shore: her heart beat q?lCK.
but it was only a boatman, lie d> five^
her a letter: it bore a black seal ? ,
hastily tore it open and commence -
ing. It told her all. She read to
?without discovering any agitatioi ,
that a deadly paleness overspmu her
face?but when she had fiuishe ,,
letter dropped from her hands,
uttering a shriek, she fell to the ear ^ ^
few hours restored her to life, b
reason : \[)e jron had entered lier s 0111 ;
and hid fair 0re long to do its work. .Sire
becarliea maniac, and tor days and nigi'u?
wandered to and fret alrmt the neighbor
hood, an object of giV.*1' am' P'ty* ^ll1
this did not last long; she was soon mis-1
sinjT. nnd though ~diligent searcfl W1,s!
made, no "trace ofherconld he dis^"ovepefl/
When last seen, she was straying '
the river, and had most likely perished in
iws waves.
PART IX.
THE REFORMED MAN.
Ml sctHer soft'ning. sober evening takes
H r w.tfitpd fialion in "he middle air,
A lltotund shadows al her back. Thornton.
The flight was calm, bright and love
ly. The moou and the stars, from their j
golden orb*, were pouring a soft, mou.
and mellowing inl^ence ?ver *' e"r,'7
objects. Nature appea. Pt* !!.' fr 8W?' "
est, purest garb, and seemea ..M ? jfuch a
meiit of heavenly repose. It wh- ' ? >ri
litw when imagination choses to pit.,
her wings nnd soar ethereal height*, antl
whim die heart is most devoid ctf eartflt
and its vicps, and most open to the wjrrrnt
feelings of love,?or to religion* derotiw
and heavenly aspirations. At this howur
was to bo seen wending his way from the
suburb* of the capitol, a solitary imo4i,
whose infirm step, pale countenance and
agitated deportment, at onre spoke h>?
sorrowful situation :? he wits an invalid,
an I a miserable, unhappy man. One
whose whole life had been spent in dissi
pation and vice, and whose memory d*w??h:
upon few "green spots" mi the dreary
waste he had traversed. He wat* ju?f re
covering from a severe sickness, difn ing
which, his mind had dwelt upon his.
crimes and the misery which they had
caused; remorse had taken firm hold of
his heart. He had been at the very verge
of death, and the prospect assumed a
more terrifying aspect than he comdiiave
imagined. He was now taking a moon
light ramble, and indulging in reflection.
He proceeded toward a grave-yard; where
arriving he-sat himself down, and indadg
ed in thought. He wan disturbed^ from
his reverie by appronetiing footsteps :: on
looking np he perceived a womuir-wtiwse
dishevelled locks, wild, unmeaning- eyes,
and gestures and actions bespoke a
ruined intellect. She was leading a boy,
lovely and beautiful, by the hand. They
passed without noticing him, and ap
proached a grave. It was the grave of
one who had lately fallen a victim-to our
night rambler. Upon approaching tfic
grave the woman no longer continued
tier emotions, bill broke forth in a paro
xyisin of weeping and bewailing truly
frightful. At this momenta solt and hea
venly strain of rams iff, from, the harp of
some nocturna-l minstrel' was* warned to
the ears of those in the silent grave-yard.
Who has not felt the magic of music at
moonlight? The woman ceased her ru-.
vings, seated herself with her boy upon
the grave of her murdered husband, and
became absolved in thought!
And how felt the wretched spectator
at this solemn hour* in that melancholy
place 1'
" Yes, how frit- the wretched man,
Reclining there?while memory ran
OVr many a year of guilt and strife,
Flew o'er the dark floo- of hi* life,
Nor found one .?unn% resting place.
Nor brought flirn back one branch of grace !'*
The romanticscene?the grave-yard?
the widow wife and her orphan, seated
beside the grave of their husband, fath
er?that husband and father, too, slain by
him ; and. soft, each inting music, opera
ted upon him as nothing had ever done
before,
"Be hung hii head?each nobler ain>t
And hope, and feeling, which had
From boyhoods hour, that instant came
Fresh o'er him aed he wept! he wept!"
His heart melted beneath the sweet,
magic influence around fiim, and in that
William Woods worth felt his eyes bedew
ed with the
?' Blest tear.i of soul felt pecitetice,"
and he knelt?and over the grave of him'
he murdered, and by the side of those
whose hope and huppinesshe had wreck
ed, he lifted his blood-stained soul to mer
ciful heaven in fervent, penitential pray
er! The duelist rose from his knees an
altered man. He spoke to the lady ; con
fessed who he was ; and humhty entreat
ed her forgiveness. No answerwas return
ed. Alas! her-tongue was ever si'etit!
She had attained her last wish,?she had*
seen and pressed her Hps upon the
of her Charles. The 'golden bowl1 #a?
broken,' the 'silver cord loosened1,? Ar ^
the soul of Maria had winged its'
beyond earth, pain and sorrow^ Wi/j
became a father to the son of the d' vot'2(!
couple whom he had destroyed-? j"|'rv
ed him up in the ohtertraur^ mjd
of those virtues whtch'aloue caQ ^
life's rugged path, ?';id swee(e|1 ^
existence I r
A Mother's Love.? The force of a mo
ther's love was strikingly displayed at th?
late destructive fire in Georgetown, I). (.
Amidst the raging of the devourinc ele
I ment, (lie dense smoke, and the falling of
| btaziug timbers, a poor woman was seen,
i with arms extended, apparently forgetting
everything else, Hying in every direction,
crying *'wherc is myGeorgeWashington?"
At length the little wanderer was heard
to exclaim, 'Miere I am mother!"?a fine
little fellow,, n bo tit foiw years old. The
father of the prodigal was not moore re
Weed to full on the neck of his son, than
was i.^'s P04* womu,K bless the boy,
this name wns etK1ll^h to save him
Many families have owed their prosper
ity full as much to the propriety of female
management as to the knowledge and ac
tivity of the father.

xml | txt