The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register., May 20, 1824, Image 1

About The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register. (Wilmington, Del.) 1824-1825

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AND DELAWARE REGISTER.
NO. 36.
WILMINOTON, OEZ.. MAY 20, 1824.
VOL. 1.
Printed and published, every Thursday, by MENDENHALL & WALTEltS, No. 101, Market-street, at two dollar> and fifty cents per annum, payable half yearly in advjm<^rhb-eec^
terms.
Price of subscription $2 50 per annum, paya
ble six months in advance ; or, if not paid before
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(^Subscribers are entitled to the privilege of
having their names, place of residence, and occu
pation,inserted in our Register, «bâtis.
ill
SP®3BW33R*2P»
THE INDIAN FLOWER.
The shadows of twilight
Steal over the sky,
And the star of the evening
Hus risen on high.
The sweet breathing flowers
Are seeking repose,
And the dewy drops moisten
they close.
The fragrance they scatter'd
Around them all day,
In the chill of the night breeze
Has melted away.
Like the friends of life's sunshine
Whose falsehood is found,
When the cloud of affliction
Is gathering around.
But one is still left Ub
N ow walking alone,
Whose perfume is richer
Than all that are gene.
Jt rises from slumber
Its sweetness to shed,
When each child of the daylight
Is drooping its head.
So when false friends forsake us,
There still are some hearts
Who cling to us closer
As pleasure departs.
Their smile can illumine
Our darken'd path yet,
Though the Sun of our fortunes
Forever has set.
The leaves
Lit. Gaz
THE IMAGINARY ISLAND.
There's an isle in the ocean
The .«bade of the blest,
Where Jibe weary, and way worn,
And guileless seek rest.
And there is no sorrow,
No weeping, no sighs ;
Save the gems of affection,
Tears are wiped from all eyes.
There the lime and the orange,
Their branches entwine,
"With the leaves of the palm tree.
And fruits of the vine ;—
There the groves ever gladden,
To one endless spring;—
There the flow'rs ever blossom,
And birds ever sing.
SONG.— Tunk — Hail to the Chief.
Hail to the ever green isle of the ocean,
Hail to the ever green isle of the ocean,
Long may it flourish the gem of the sea ;
Qeat cv'ry heart here with patriot emotion,
As we pledge to our saint in the land of the
free :
Blest be hia honor'd name,
Long may th« noble flame
Which Erin once circl'd in glory now fled ;
Still in each patriot breast,
In all its pride confess'd,
Burning in splendour o'er millions yet spread I
And hail to the bright-coming day, when our
island,
Shall rise in her might like the storm on the
wave,
When liberty, echo'd from valley and highland,
Shall light up its flame in the hearts of the
brave :
Lo to the coming day, . * *
When in the battle fray,
The genius of freedom each soul shaU inspire,
When ev'ry heart shall be
Glowing with liberty,
Each eye he illum'd with liberty*» fire !
And hail to the bright op'ning dawn of that naiion*
Columbia t the land where dear liberty regns,
Of nations exalted, the proudest in station,
Where the freeman delores, but is freed from
his chains :
Long may it flourish free,
Bright be its destiny,
The beacon of freedom to lighten the world,
E» in yet catch the beam,
O'er her inslendour stream,
And her "sun-burst"* in glory be proudly un
furled !
* T/te fanciful name of the ancient Irish stand
ard.
On seeing an interesting young woman in the
rite of Confirmation.
HUSTON BAUD."
by the
I'he matin bell* have pealed the hour,
To summon holy hearts to prayer;
And beauty owns Religion's power,
And pays her adoration there.
Ihe Temple of the Lord is still—
I A halo round his Priest is shed,
jAiivl glory beams from Zion's Hill,
i 1 o crown with light his hallow'd head.
Mush'd now the organ's deep ton'd note—
I The vocal sounds of
music cea?e,
nJ * °nly, inward breathing's float,
1 «wards the azure Throne of Peace;
Before the Altar humbly kneels
The fairest of the works of Heaven ;
And mercy to her heart reveals
The promise of Salvation given.
Confirmed at Truth*» eternal shrine,
A member of the House of God;
Her rot>e is spotless and divine—
Her feet are with Salvation shod.
Oh ! if in Heaven above thereat,
One joy a brighter ray afford,
*Tis when on woman's virtuous breast
The cross sbe bcareth ot her Lord.
And blest art thou whose soul, from earth,
And earthly thoughts, itself hath freed ;
Rece ived in Christ thy second birth,
And won of faith the glorious meed.
The existence of the Supreme Being.
The first rules of Morality I taught him
(says the late Dr. Beattie, speaking of his
elilest sun) were to speak the truth and
keep a secret, and I never found that in
a single instance he transgressed either.
The doctrines of religion I wished to im
press upon his mind, as soon as it might
be prepared to receive them,but I did not
see the propriety of making him commit
to memory theological sentences, or any
sentences it was not possible for him to
understand. And 1 was desirous to make
a trial how far his own reason would go,
in tracing out, with a little direction, the
great and first principles ot all religion,
the being of a Gud ! The following fact is
mentioned, not as a proof of superior se
gacity in him (for I have no duubt that
most children would iu like circumstances
think as he did) but merely a, a moral ur
logical experiment. He had reached his
fifth or sixth year, knew the alphabet, and
could read a little, but had received no
particular information, with respect to the
author of his being, because I thought he
could not understand such information,
and because I had learned from my own
experience, that to be made to repeat
words not understood, is extremely detri
mental to the faculties of a young mind.
In a corner of a little garden, without in
forming any person of the circumstance,
I wrote in the mould with my finger the
three initial letters of his name, and sow
ing garden cresses in the furrow*, cover
ed the and smoothed the ground.
ed up the teed, and smoothed the ground.
Ten days after he came running to me,
and with astonishment in his countenance,
told rne that his name was growing in the
garden ! I smiled at the report, and seem
ed inclined to disregard it, but he insist
ed on my going to see what had happened.
Yes, said I, carelessly, on coming to the
place, I see it is 60 , but there is nothing
in this worth notice, it is mere chance, and
I went awav. He followed nie, and ta
king hulil of my coat, said with some ear
nestness, it could not be mere chance, for
that somebody must have contrived mat
ters so as to produce it. I pretend not to
give his words or my own, for I have for
gotten both, but I give the substance of
what passed between us in such language
as we both understood. So you think, I
said, that what appears so regular as the
letters of your name, cannot be by chance.
Yes, said he, with firmness, I think so.
Look at yourself, I replied, and consider
your hands and fingers, your legs and feet
and .other limbs, are they not regular in
appearance, and useful to you ? He said
they were. Came you then hither, said
I, by chance ? No, he answered, that can
not be, something must have made me.
And who is that something, I asked, lie
said he did not know. (I tuok particular
notice that he did not say, as Rousseau
fancies a child, in like circumstances,
might say, that his parants made him.) I
had now gained the point I aimed at; 1
-aw that his reason taught him (though he
could not so express it) that what begins
to be, must have a cause, and that what is
formed with regularity must have
telligent cause. I therefore told him the
of the Great Being who made him
and all the world, concerning whose ado
rable nature I gave him such information
as I thought he could in some measure
comprehend. The lesson aftected him
greatly, and he never forgot either it, or
the circumstance that introduced it.
I
un
an in
name
FOU Till! WXL9KIKGTOX1AX.
" Still France will think of whom did clasp,
The Kay le in his flight—
Still will she think of whom did grasp
A torch that did to glory light."
The Allies had all been disbanded—the war
shout had gradually murmured into silence, and
the last peal of Wellington's thunder had just
echoed from the Alps, when, lo! the heavy foot
steps of a courser was heard that aroused them a
gain to the conflict—it was the war-stead that car
ried the exile, Natuleon.
There is a melancholy charm that plays about
the fancy as it recurs to this illustrious character*
and a sympathy that fills the soul at the remem.
brance'of his misfortunes, lhat is felt and acknowl
edged even by his bitterest enemies.
The triumphant cry of the British veteran and
the Russian horseman, exulting at hia fall, had
scarcely subsided, when it was followed by the
rapturous shout of the Frenchman, as he hailed
the return of his banished leader from his prison
on the deep,—It was the signal for contest— il
vengeance to the Allie.-it ... .he magi,
rallying-word to the humbled Francbman— fur,
as soon as he heard the voice of his leader, he for.
gut that he had been conquered —he despised his
proud victors—his indignant soul kindled within a
, , , . , it - . r „ i
•unn, and whilst he swore allegiance to Apoleon, ™
he was ready to brave danger and war, or to die
for his Emperor and his country. And whilst the
generous sou! oflheir Commander himself thoug) i
of his late banishment, and the eagle that had for
mrrlv conducted him to conciucst and glory, he
y . , ^ ' •
desired nothing but victory or death. But lus a
prayer was again to be rejected—for the shout of j
the Gaullic legions was followed by the alarm- !
..... of the Allies—the loud roar of cannon from ]
the Kreuch line was met by the still louder tl.un-1
the freuen . y , rn ,,j j
der of the Russian, and the last peal that rolled
along the plain reluctantly murmured his defeat, •
and hi» unfortunate destiny.—Instead of victo- <
rv or the fate which lie so mich desired, lie j
wa. still doomed to live to be in.ultcd as a cap-1
, . , , v • i tTat I
mmand imprisoned; he was denied the tie
ment which he justly merited, that treatment
which hit rank and generosity claimed for him ;
and again he wa* banished as a criminal to tell his
and griefs to the angry roar of the bil*
an ex le amidst the .storm.
was
is
ur
in
sorrows
lows, and lo die
beaten rocks of the ocean. And although no lof
ty dome rung with his solitary knell, yet his mem
ory si', lives iu the hearts of his countrymen,
and the guardian angel of France still hovers over
his tomb, and weeps at the grave of her ill fated
A STUDENT.
offspring.
COLLECT AKEA.
There was about the beginning of the 17th centu
ry, a dealt r in silks ut Lyons/France) whose name
was Octavio Muy % a man of good capacity and
great diligence, but by a chain of unlucky events,
ht» affairs were brought into n very unhappy sit
uation. His cash run short, his resources failed,
and his creditors began to suspect all was not
right. In this dilemma ho knew not whom to
consult, or how to go on. He was one day stand
ing in his shop, brooding-over his misfortune»,
with a little tuft of raw silk in his mouth, which
unknowingly lie ground
and then spit it out; as it fell directly before
him, lie observed that it had » very unusual lus
tre, which struck him so much, that it brought
him out of his fit of the vapours ; lie took it up,
considered it, and being a man of abilities, im
mediately traced the whole progress of the ope
ration : He went to work- and copying nature,
produced those lustered or waicred tabetics, for
which Lyons has been ever since famous, and
thereby acquired an immense fortune to himself,
tiicH has been a
continual source of riches to that city ever since.
riffle between bis teeth,
and established a manufacture
COSMOGONY.
Xenophanes took the star» to be patches of
clouds, lighted up at night and extinguished in the
morning,
Anaxagoros considered the firmament to bean
arch of stone, the sun immense inflammable body,
and the stars to be stones whirled up from the sur
face of the earth by the circumambient air and so
ignited '
Diogenes declared the stars to he hot pumice
Slones fixed in lie sphere of the heavens, serving
as lamps in the night but chiefly designed us ven a
tilators of the world,
Others maintained that the sun was globular,
hollow ami containing fire ; that the light stream
ed through a cavity on one side and when this was
stopped, the sun was eclipsed.
Aristotle thought the universe to have eternal
ly existed m Us present »täte. Leucippus origin
Uted the Epicurean plan, that the universe was
created by atoms. Democraius laid down that
tlrese « first magnitude»" were eternal, and that
they had po.se.sr-d an uniform motion and celer
ity Epicure» completed the structure hy the
theory that the world sprung from a collision of
these atoms. Ueacarte»'» world was formed by
tortices Burnet, Winston, Leibnitz, Kepler,
Curler, and a multitude of others, have been pop
ular fur their several theories, and our own coun- !
try may claim a high share of distinction for the I
m,vd and inÿemou.* discoveries of John Cleves
Symmes and Ira Hill. I
1 _ j
,, , ... ,, „,. I, - - ... „(•
Young'* Night Thoughts. Beattie, n one of
his letters, takes the following not.ee ol Vo ng
' When any one begin, to fin.l pleasure m
a.ghtng over Young'. N ight 1 bought, in a cor.
ner, it is time to shut the bunk and return to
company—When 1 first rea.l Young, n y heart
was broken to think of the poor man » aflhetums
AftewardsI took it into my head, that where
so much lamentai ion, here con d not
be excessive sufferings; and I could not help ap
plying to him sometimes those line» ot song.
"Believe me the Shepherd but feigns;
lie's wretched lo show he has wit.**
" On talking with some ofl)r. Young's particu
lar friends in England, i have î> u*.e found that my
conjecture was right ; for that vwnle he was Coin
posing hia Night Toughts he was really as cheer
ful as any other man "
« O that l could give you my experience ! that
I could make you see the ennui which devours!
the great, and the trouble which they have to fill
up their day» ! Do yon see that 1 am dying ol
sadness, in a fortune that it would be difficult to
conceive of } 1 have been young and handsome ;
I have tasted pleasure ; 1 have been loved by
. In a more advanced age, I have pass
there
On the Death of young Children .—Ephemera
all die at »unset, and no insect of this class lias
morning sun.
ever sported in the beams of tl
Happier are ye, little human Ephemera ! Ye play
ed only in the ascending beams and in the early
dawn, and in the eastern light, ye drank omy of
the preliba'iona of life; hovered for a little space
over a world of freshness and blossoms, and fell
asleep in innocence, before yet the morning dew
exhaled .—From the German uf Richter.
was
STATE.
Madame de Maiflteuon, who enjoyed »11 the dis
tinctions and flatteries of the sp endid Court of
Louis XIV. until she at length became the wife
of that illustrious Monarch, has given the follow
ing impressive testimony to the vanity and hollow,
ness of her enjoyments, in a letter to Mad. Maison
fort.
every
ed my years in the intercourse of genius. I have
come to favour, und 1 protest to you, my deal
child, that every condition leaves a frightful
V01ü - _
'
when Holt was Lord Chief Justice of England, lrv
a sect somewhat like that of the Method,sts, but
rather more enthusiastic, was the canker that in- ,«
™ the comralinily , an ' d being his Lordship's
opinU)n lhat a wel \ severity was the rea
diest way to destroy the spreading humor, there
upon caused several of the ringleaders to be cast
into prison ; upon which Mr. Lacy a follower ot
theirs, immediately repaired to his Lordships an(
house, and in a moat peremptory tone demanded
a con ; crencc w ith him. The porter said, his
j L or{ j wa3 indisposed, and saw no company. But on
! tell him, snii Lacy, that I mu, t sec him, for I am be
] sent by the Lord God.—The porter being »truck
with the oddity or the expression, caused it to be
j delivered, and the Judge gave orders that the L„
man lh()(jld ^ admitted. When he entered the]
• roorr)i <« j arn CO me,'* said hr to the Judge, " with
< a message from the Lord, requiring thee; on pain jj
j of everlasting fire to grant a L\oli prosequi for John
Watkins, and odiers, Hod's hull,ft,I servants,
I whom thou hast wrongfully cast into prison.,
„ T|iOII art * lying baggage/* replied his Lord
ahjp fop ,f t l»e Lord had sent thee, he would
have directed thee tu the Attorney General, for
he knows if is not in my power to grant thee a
Nuti prosequi? and so wrote his mittimus, to keep
lus brethren company.
l
a
INGRATITUDE PUNISHED.
In the year 1"~6 there lived at Haerlem, in the
slate of Nev-York, an old man, who related the
following slorv of himself : He was possessed of
a pretty good farm, w,th every thing necessary
a farmer, and had hut cue child, who marry
ing, it was agreed, that the young couple should
live in the house with him, as he was a widower.
Things went exceedingly well fur some
when Ills son proposed to him, that he suonld
make over to him hia estate, promising to build a
new house and otherwise to improve tiie tarm.
The father through persuasion gave him a deed
of gift for it and every thing belonging to it
After a f* tv years, as the father grew old, he
grew a little fretful and dissatisfied, while the
»on, thinking he had nothing more to expect from
him, forgot his lilial duty, and used him a3 bad
a* one of his servants. The old man was no long,
er. permitted to eat tit the same table with hint and
his wile, but obliged to eat his meals in the chim
ney corner, and continually otherwise ill-used by
them. The old man ate li'is sapann daily out of a
wooden bowl his »on had made him ; h*s grand
son saw ilia father make this buwl, and set about
making just such another; being asked by his
father what he made it for, answered for you to
old as grundtather.
for
time
eat out you glow as
Although this ought to have turned his heart,
and made him reflect, that as he dealt by hi» fa
ther, he might expect to be dealt by hi» children
when lie grew old : It had no eliect upon h:m,
and the ill usage to the old mail was carried to
such a height, that he could no longer bear it,
but left the house, and Went to a relation and
neighbor of his, declaring that if his friend could
not help him to get his estate back again, he would
be obliged to come and live with him. His friend
answered, that he might come and live with him;
and if he would follow his directions, 1« would
help him to bis estate again.
this bag of dollafs, carry it to your room, Iock u
in your chest, and about the time you expect iliey
will call yot: down to dinner, shut your door and
have all'the money spread on the table, in the
middle of the mom. When they call you m»ke
a u«i»e with sweeping them oti ill* table in the
bag again. . . , . ,
He did as he was desired ; his daughter-in-law
came to call him ; finding the dour shut, she had
'he cunoai'y to peep through »he key-hole, and
)'' w ".e «''t man sweeping the dollar, »ff »he ta
hie Surprised at it, she told her husband, but
he would not believe it. The next day he again
repeated counting hit dollars, and packed up
«on.eH.ing in paper, luce paper-money. His son
went to call htm, and was conv.nced of what lus
w'fi- hud told htm. I hey took no notice o it to
the old man, Imt insisted on lit. eating attire ta
ble with them. . . . . »
I *»e old man related to his friend what he had
done, who gave birr.direction» what to do, ,1hi.
»«ked him for the money. After a few days
the son asked him what money it was lie had been
counting ? Only some money I received m tor
the discharge ot one ot the bonds I have staini ng
" ut * I «P' ct more tn every day. Soon after the
sun told the father that he intended to build a
house on the farm, and would be glad if lie would
^ |)im , mve ,, mt m0 Yes, child, aa>. the
f#tl a „ that , haV e will only come tg you ; I
mlPhd Bivin „ you the bonds, but then I think it
wuulti b K e ^ have it all put together in a new
(](;ed uf , ft , „-ill get our cousin to draw a new
one AccurdinR .| h is cousin, who hsd-dvised
^ mea!m wa / sent for , and the slln the
ftther t(| dred 0 f gift, that another might be
drawn after it< wh " n the 0 i d man g.„ t the in
5trume|lt int0 h | 8 hand, in the presence of his
friend he bruke off the sea]> and st uck the wri
A SPANISH GUERILLA,
As I prepared to ascend the Pyrenees my tye
was caught by a figure descending rapidly to
wards me. A broad-leafed hat covered his head.
Ho wore a blue tight cotton vest, small-clothes
of the same, with large ties of red tape. His
legs whre bare: and sandal*« of undressed cow
hide, the hair inward, were tied round his ankles
with thongs of lea»her. In a broad belt buckled
round his waist, were attached a small hatchet
for clearing his passage through the glasier», and
a pair (if iron spiked shoes, without which it i»
possible to travel the snowy regions at rhe sum*
mit of the mountains. Across his »houldrp was
swung a short carbine, and in lii< hand he bore a
staff spiked at one end, to aid his ascent in the
passes of ice, then glittering far above us.
" The moment he perceived me he stopped
short, sprung half behind a large stone, and
instant ins carbine was cocked and his eye fixed
fiercely on me. .
" Friend or foe !" ask he, in Spanish, and in a
tone which sounded like a positive declaration
of
Go, says he, take
ling in the fire, saying, burn ! cursed tokrununt
of my folly and misery ! and you, chiidréh, aa the
estate is all mine again, you must remove imme
diately, unless you will be content to be my ten*
' l have now learned, that it is best for a pa
" hold the loaf under his o wn arm/* and
ants,
rent to
that one father can better maintain ten children
than ten children one father.
" I am a traveller," replied 1, *• and a foe to no
honest man" He looked at me a moment sternly,
but not fiercely as at first ; and seeing nothing
hostile in my attitude or manner, he stepped to ■
»n
wxrd. iTrequ^el.^nd t" king c/e £ ri
vantage of the high ground Aa he approched, I
rested the but end of my gun upon the ground
lrv l waited his addres*. .
u , am not mistaken sir/' Kid he m French,
,« .« 0 ii are not a r rencuroan
V. y ou ,«* r j gh t." replied L
«« English by the Virgin,*' exclaimed he, and.
springing forward, he stretched out his hand,
Though not quite in unison with the impetuous
;rarm th of his friendship, I gave him my hand,
an( | received a squeeze that ungtect through every
nerve of my body. His eyes at the same time
brightened, a flush of swarthy red showed itself
on x ^ c brow of his cheek, and he smiled as if
be was sincerely and heartily pleased.
♦. Viewing him in this light, without a shade of
the f eroC ity which first struck me, I thought him
L„ d stl u think him the handsomest man lever
8aw _ Hi. j ct black hair curled down Ins »houl
u c did not wear mustachios, but his upper
jj p only was shaved, and his beard and whisker»
were bushy and short, such as we give a Roman
hero of thirty or forty years of age : H.s shirt
was opened at the neck, and exposed his breast co
Te red with hair, and displaying a mostimposing
breadth and strength,
«'You are Englishcried he,
a arft we not then mends. **
IIe gpo he his own language. I replied in Frenofc,
which was easier for me, that I hoped our nations
were and would he always friends.
I hope so too/* cried he, " for many a day hav£
l fought side by side with the noble English. From !
the Ebro to the Adour, we marched step by step
together and the passes of these hills have many
a time heard the echo of my carbine joined with
that of Wellington*» cannon.** " You are bo lon
ger a soldier ?" asked I. •• No, I am now nothing
more nor less than a »muggier Ever since the
affair of Orthes, there below u», where l got a
French bullet through my body, X have trod the
roads of these my native mountains, making out
life and cheating the king juat as well a» I could
You ate I tell you frankly what I am, left you
might take me for worse. A »muggier, mind you,
not a robber; but ifyou would know me better,
ask Mina —They »ay he is at Paris. Ask him the
character of Josef Ramirez, the Guerilla ofJaca!
but lime presses. 1 have a long road before me
and must not tarry. God be with you ! Adieu !"
Repealing 'with these words the friendly and
forcible squeeze of the hand, the smuggler left
I Spanish-»
of
a
he
by
a
tnc*
THE 7ARTXNCb
Recollections of Eventful Life/* by a
Soldier."
From
We bad been about three month» in the Island
of the Jersey, when die order came for our em
barkation for Portugal ; but only six women to
every hundred men were allowed to accompany
us. As there were however, a great many more
than that number, it was ordered that they should
draw lots, to see who should remain. The women
of the company to which I belonged, were as
sembled in the pay sergeant*» ro«*in, for that pur
pose. The men of the company hud gathered
around them to see the result, with various de
grees of interest depicted in their countenances.
The proportionate number of tickets were made,
with • to go' or ' not to go/ written on therm.
They were then placed in a hat, and the women
were called by their seniority; to draw their tick
ets. 1 looked round me before they began It
was an interesting scene. The sergeant stood in
the middle with the hat in his hand the women
around him, with their hearts palpitating, and
anxiety and suspense in every countenance. Here
und there you would see the head of a married
man pushed forward from amongst the crowd in
the attitude of intense anxiety and attention.
The first woman called was the sergaant*» wife
—»he drew 'not to go.*—It seemed to give little
concern to any one but herself and her husbands
The next was » corporal'» wife—»he drew 4 to go.*
This was received by all with nearly as much ft
pathy as the first—She was little beloved either.
The next was an old hand, a most outrHgeous
virs»go, who thought nothing of giving her hus
Lund a knock down, when he offended her, and
who used to nuke great disturbance about the
fire iu the cooking way. Every one uttered
their wishes audibly that »he would lose ; and her
husband, if we could judge from his countenance
seemed to wish so too. She boldly plunged her
hand into the hat and drew out a ticket ; on open
ing it, she held it up triumphantly, and displayed
'to go* " Old Meg will go yet, said she, and
live to scald more of you about the fire side/*
A general murmur of disapointment ran through
the whole. ' She has the devil*» luck, and hev>
own* said one of them.
The ne.\t in turn was the wife of a young man,
who was much respected in the company for hia
steadiness and good behaviour. She was remark
able.for her affection for her husband, and belov
ed by the whole company for her modest and ob
liging disposition. She advanced with a palpii
o^ing'heart and trembling ham), to decide on.
([what was to her I believe) her future happi
ness or misery. Every one prayed fur her suc
cès» —Trembling between fear and hope, slio
drew out one of the tickets, and attempted to
open it; but lier band shook so she could not do
it.—She handed it to one of the men to open.
When he opened it, his countenance fell, and he
hesitated to say what it was. She cried lo him
in a tone of agony, * Tell me, lor God's sake,
what it is!\ vNot to go/said lie in a compassion
ale tone of voice. 'Oh God, help me ! O Sandy !'
she exclaimed, and sunk lifeless into the arms of
her l;iusband, who had sprung forward to lier ay.
sistanibe. and in whose countenance was now de*
picUirw'variety of wretchedness. The drawing
was iiHmujptftd, and she was rurried'by her bus*
band to nis birth, where he hung over her in
franti<L;igony. By the assistance ot those around
her.»hc>was soon recovered from her swoon ; but
shXawoke only to a sense of lier misery. The
first thing she did was to look round for her hut
^>aud ; when she perceived him, »lie seized his
Ihmd und held it, as if she was atnud that he was
going to leave her. * O Sandy, you'll not leave
me and your poor babie, will you/ i he poor
fellow looked in her face, with a look of agony
and despair,
in the
Wlll'ttL
What are
'Flic scene drew tears from every ey
room, with the exception of the term.
I have already mentioned, who «aid,
ye a* mukin* such a wark about ? Let the babie
get her gieet out ! I suppose she thinks there's
naebody ever parted with the men but her, wi*
her faintin' and her airs, ami her w«rk!*
The drawing was again commenced and various
were the expressions ofTeeiing* evinced by those
concerned. The Irish women in particular were
loud in their grief. It always appeared to n,e
that the fr'sh cither feel ac.tdy d**