Newspaper Page Text
*■ AM) DELAWARE REGISTER. Printed and Published, every Thursday by MF..YI) F,.\ IIAl.l, Is" Wjll.TRR R, No. HI, Market-st. (three doors above the Farmer's Bank,) at ÿtll 50 per annum, payable half yearly in advance , or g3 at the end of the year. VOL. l. NO. 43. WILMINGTON, DEL. AUGUST 5,1824. TRUMS. — Aiivkutiskments not exceeding • will be inserted four times for one And why?—They shew me every hour, Honour's high thought, Affection's power, Discretion's deed, sound Judgment's sen- 1 I ! , I ; ! ; ! one square dollar, and 2b cents for each subsequent inser tion. ...If continued for three months, S2 5Ü — for six months, #4 50; or for one year S8. (L) Subscribers are entitled to the privilege of having their names, place of residence, and occu pation, inserted in the Register, oiiatis. description will he discontinued until all paid, and mu week's nutice given. A retirages ■ ' ! I ! : i TO MY WIFE, Oil the anniversary of her wedding-day, which was also her birth-day, with a ring. nr sAMi nr. nntior. f " Thee, Mary, with this ring I wed"— So, fourteen years ago, I said Behold another ring!—" for what?" " Towed thee o'er again?"—Why not? With that first ring I married youth, Grace, beauty, innocence and truth; Taste long admir'd, sense long rever'd, And all my Molly then appeal'd. If she, by merit since disclos'd. Prove twice the woman I suppos'd, I plead that double merit now, To justify a double vow. Here then to-day, (with faith as sure, With ardour as intense, as pure, And when, amidst the rites divine, I took thy troth and plighted mine,). To thee, sweet girl, my second ring A token and a pledge 1 bring: With this I wed, till death us part, Thy riper virtues to my heart; Those virtues which before untried, The wife has added to the bride: Those virtues whose progressive claim, Endearing wedlock's very name, My soul enjoys, my song approves, For conscience" sake, as well as love's. tence,— And teach me all tilings—but repentance. ON THE DEATH OK AN INFANT. From the Dutch of Dirk Smite. Een n r vau Englcn zr.g. A host of angels flying, Through cloudless skies imped'd Upon the earth beheld, A pearl of beauty lying, Worthy to glitter bright In Heaven's vast halls of light. They saw, with glances tender, An infant newly born, O'er whom life's earliest morn Just cast its opening splendor; Virtue it could not know, Nor vice, nor joy, nor wo. The blest angelic legion Greeted its birth above, And came, with looks of love. From heaven's enchanting region ; Bending their winged way To where the infant lay. They spread their pinions o'er it— That little pearl which shone With lustre all its own,— And then on high they bore it Where glory hath its birth— But left the shell on earth. J ] I Ç I .ays of the Forty Martyrs. THE WIFE'S ADIEU. I I soar to the realms of the bright and I blest, I Where the the mourners are solaced, the weary at rest, J rise to my glories; while thou must remain In this dark vale of tears to dejection and pain. I And hence, though my heart throbs exult I ant todie, ■ And visions of glory expand to my eye, I File bosom that struggles and pants tobe free, Still beats with regret ai d affection for thee. t ! I I fear not another, more fond and more fair, AV hen I am forgotten, thy fortunes should share; I Oil! find but a bosom devoted as mine, I And i my heart's latest blessing forever be thine! I I fear lest the stroke that now rends us apart, I From the faith of the Christian should set er I thv heart: Lest seeking in anguish relief from despair, I I he vain world should lure thee to look fin it there. I But oh! should it tempt thee a while to resign I A treasure so precious, a hope so divine: i Should the light of his glory be hidden fr thee, I In the hour of thy darkness, Oh! think upon I me. I Hçmcmbei.' the hope that enlivens me now, om Though the dews of the damp grave arc cold on my brow : The faith that has nerved me with transport to see The hour of my doom, though it tears me from thee ! Mu expectations, and fast bound in the fetters of death. The voung lie thick as dew drops , ,■ , , , , on the ground, here and there only do wc find a monument erected upon years and wisdom; we wonder when we find it, and vet this our wonder does not cure us of our „ , „ , secunty and confidence. Perhaps even..low thc scythe of time is lifted to cut down those who little think of it, who are expecting the departure of their friends, or preparing to . .. . . . , ... carry their fathers to the tomb. 1 o-mor row, that idol deity, in which the world have agreed to place their trust ; to-morrow, that hair-spun thread on which they hang the . , , ... . . weighty ccncernments of eternity \\ hat is to-morrow? No part ot our possessions, no part of our inheritance—it is a part in the »mat chain of duration, but perhaps no part j r . ,,, ti l, i of our present being. Clear, and bright and steady, as it shines to-day, some sudden blast may blow out the lamp of life—and to-mor row mav have conveyed us into other com , . „ T , , , nanv and settles us m other scenes. Boast i • , not of to-morrow, till you have unrolled the book of fate, and learnt what to day shall bring forth.—Last night, it is probable, ma ... .i . i.ic „„ .i.,. n y a trjiv \ outli threw hiiiibdi on the bed - h • 3 whence he shall rise no more : and many a busy head reposed itself upon that pillow, where it shall sleep now and take its rest, How sad and serious are many now, who, , , \ , ; but last night, were giddy, thoughtless, pre sumptuous and vain ; how terrible lias this to-morrow proved to many, who but vester day said unto themselves, that it was yet soon , , , enough to repent and he converted. • 1 hou ! fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee !' was a severe yet a gracious warning. In every breeze that blows there is a Might of human fates; in every breath wc breathe, we drink in the deadly poison—every hour we stand in jeopardy ; then every man in his best estate is altogether vanity. In every walk we take death treads upon our steps ; he watches us in our retirements, he follows us in our business ; he mingles with the an ; gels that stand round our beds ; in that very ! moment when our hearts are most attached SERIOUS REFLECTIONS, " WHAT IS YOUR I.1FK?" Ask the aged to look back upon the scenes through which they have passed, upon the years which they have spent; intreat them to tell you in what light they sec them—at tend to their answer, for with the aged there is wisdom. What is it they reply ? They confirm the oracles of God. The weaver's shuttle they say, is not more swift, the shoot ing star is not more momentary, evanescent and unreal. Some of you may consult your children instead of advising your fathers ; and all may ask your brethren, if time be not very short. The registers of the dead arc not unfaithful ; they cannot err ; they ■ are not interested ; consult then the regis ter of the dead. Look upon the tombs—are ' their inhabitants all old ? No—not all. ny ? No—not many. Babes there are, who have been born to weep and die— babes there are, who in all their sportive innocence, have gone down to the grave ; youths there are, ! who in their gayest hours and amidst the I most pleasurable scenes, have been recalled ! tu lie down in darkness and the dust Num : hers too arc there, who, in the pride of man i hood, the maturity of life, in the full career of business and of hope, have been eased of all their anxieties and defeated of all their to this world—in that very moment when wc arc i,. ast apprehensive of fate, then the tyrant springs upon his prey, rejoicing toadd to ],j s native horrors the necessary terrors of surprise._In the midst oi life we are in Can ger of some fatal blight—in the highest health we may be nearest to some mortal malady. What then is your life ? Is it not a fleeting ! cloud, an evaporating smoke, an exploding meteor, a painted bubble.—Break, the hub • hie must—in its greatest beauty it will break, and it may break ere night. From the Newhumpshirc Collections. COLONEL HAYNE. After the city of Charleston had fallen into the hands of Lord Cornwallis, his Lordship issued a proclamation, requiring of the in habitants of the colony ; that they should no longer take part in the contest, but continue peacably at their homes, and they should be most sacredly protected in property and per son. This was accompanied by an instrument of neutrality, which soon obtained the signa tures of many thousands of the citzens of S. Carolina, among whom was Col Hayne who now conceived that he was entiled to peace and security for his family and fortune, it was not long before Lord Cornwallis put a new construction on the instrument of neu trality, denominating it a bond of allegiance But to the king, and called upon all who signed it to take up arms against the rzbkls ! threat cningto treat as deserters those who refused 1 This fraudulent proceeding in Lord Corn wallis roused the indignation of every honest and honorable man. Col. Ilayne being now compelled in violation of the most solemn compact, to take tip arms, resolved that the in\ aders of his native country should be the objects of his vengeance. He withdrew from the British and was invested with a command in the continental service; but it was soon his hard fortune to be captured by the enemy, and carried into Charleston. Lord Rawdon the Commandant, immediately ordered him to be loaded with irons, and after a sort of mock trial, he was sentenced tobe hung! This sentence seized ail classes of people with horror and dismay. A petition headed by the British Governor Hall, and signed by a number of the Royalists, was presented in hisbehalf, but was totally disregarded. The ladies of Charleston, both whigs and tories, now united in a petition to Lord Rawdon ; couched in the most eloquent and moving language ; praying that the valuable life of Col. Ilayne might be spared; but this was al so treated with neglect. It was next propos ed that Col. Haync's children, [the mother had recently expired with the small pox] should in their mourning habiliments, be pre sented to plead for the life of their only sur viving parent ; being introduced into his pre sence, they fell on their knees, and with clas ped hands, and weeping eyes, they lisped their father's name, aud plead most earnestly for his life. (Reader, what is your anticipa tion ? I)o you imagine that Lord Rawden pitying their motherless condition, tenderly embraced these afflicted children, and restor ed to them the fond embraces of their father ? N'o! ! the unfeeling man was still inexorable ; he suffered even those little ones to plead in vain !) His son a \ oulli of thirteen was per mitted to stay with his father in prison, who beholding his only parent loaded with irons and condemned todie,was overwhelmed with grief and sorrow.—' \\ hy,' said he, • my son wi !}. you break your father's heart with una vailing sorrow?. Have I not often told you, t i llllt we camc into this world to prepare for a better ? For that better life, my dear boy, your father is prepared. Instead then ot weeping, rejoice with me, my son, that mv troubles are so near an end. 1 omorrow I set out for immol tallity. You will accom p an y me to the place of execution; and when I am dead take me and bury me by the s ' l 'e ^ y°ur mother." I he youth here fell on his lather s neck, 'Oh! mv father! my father , ï wm die with vou ! fwill die with you !' Col. Hayne would have returned the strong embrace of his son; but alas! his bands were confined with irons. 'Live, said he, my son live to serve your country ; and , h .. J take care of your | n . others a ,f U little sisters!* The next morning Col Hayne was conducted to the place of execution, liis son j Accompanied him. Soon as they camc in sight ot the gallows, the lather strengthened hi b mse lf and said : • Now, my son, show your st .if ;l ll)aI1 1 that tree is the boundary of my life's cease from troubling and the weary are at rest. Don't lay loo much to heart our separa .. ,. • T . , , , , tion from vou: It will be hutshort; it was Hut lately your mother died : to-day I die, and you, my son, though but young, must shortly follow us.' * \ es, my father, rcpli ed the Uroktd hearted youth,I shall shortly «• ,. ,» » • . »• follow you, for indeed I tccl that I cannot live* i 011J r » On seeing therefore, his father in the hands of the executioner, and then struggling in the baiter, he stood like onc transfixed aiulmo; tionless with horror. 1 ill then he had wept incessantly, but us soon as he saw that sight, the fountain of his tears was staunched, and he never wept more. He died insane, and in >'! s "«!"«*■ often called on the name of his father in terms that brought tears to the hardest heart. Beyond that, the wicked sorrows. " If I had Leisure" —Ah, yes, if you had leisure, what would you do ? Why says the man who is engaged in business, If J had lei sure, I'd prosecute this charitable object— I'd aid in such and such benevolent plans— I would do a great deal of good. But I am so much engaged that I have not a spare mo ment to devote eo any thing hut my business. The man is innocent in his declaration—he really believes what lie says—lie docs'nt know, because he never experienced it, that leisure is the mother of indolence, and that if he had plenty of the one, lie would, ninety nine chances out of a hundred, have the oili er in exact proportion. If I hud leisure, says the merchant I would pay more attention to my accounts; and try to collect my debts more punctually. Chance if you are not mistaken, friend, if you had leisure probably you would pay less attention to the matter than you now do. The thing you want is not more leisure, but more reso lution. The spirit to do —to do now —my word for it, after all, you waste, actually waste, more time than would be necessary to accomplish all your desires. If J had Leisure, I-'d repair that weak place in my fence said a farmer—he had no leisure, however, and while he was drinking cider with a neighbor, the cows broke in and destroyed his crop. He found leisure to plant another. If I had Leisure, said m y friend the wheel wright, last winter, I'd alter my stove pipe. He did not find leisure though—but when his shop took lire, and burnt down, he had to take time and build another. If I had Leisure, I'd some times go to meeting, old Tom Rattle used to say ; but he found so much " better business," as he call ed it, on Sunday ,tliat he never got there. He's dead and gone now, poor soul—but he regret ted at his dying day that he had played a cheat oft'upon himself in that matter. People are apt to lie very much mistaken in this affair of "leisure," there are very few men who put every hour of their time to thb best possible use. Often those who j have least to do don't half do that little, j while those who are most engaged do every 1 i thing thoroughly. I'll give a plain illustra tion, drawn from every day experience. If you want any matter, whether of profit or charity, or of what description so ever done —done expeditiously and well done too ; go to, not the man who, half his time, stands or sits with his hands in his breeches packets ; but to the identical person who, being a thorough business doing man, is always at work. That's the man for you. An idler from habit regards every thing that requires a little labor, study or confinement, as an ant looks at a mole hill ; it seems a mountain, But an industrious active man, from habit, looks at the labour with the eye of a man ; is not afraid of it; and herein lies the secret spring of his ability ; lie does not loiter, or hesitate: he acts, promptly, spiritedly, im mediately, ; ? ; I COLLECTANEA. The following was written hy Josiah Peirce, Esq. of Baldwin, Maine, (brother-in law to Count Rumford) and contains direc tions to his children on the formation of char acter. THE UOAII TO HAPPINESS. Being fully persuaded that the most ra tional happiness which intelligent free agents enjoy, arises from a consciousness of having properly employed their implanted powers and passions—and as the virtues themselves when carried to excess, either fail ot obtain ing their objects, or degenerate into vices, it is therefore my most ardent desire—that my children may be— Pious hut not Enthusiastic. Religious but not Bigoted. Just but not Vindictive. Righteous but not Hypocritical. Virtuous but not Ostentatious. Charitable but not Weak. Strict but not Austere. Meek but not Mean Humble hut not Abject. Mild but not Effeminate. Modest hut not bashful. Complaisant but not Deceitful. Affable but not Loquacious. Polite hut not Ceremonious. Condescending but not Undetermined. Believing but not credulous. Cautious hut not timid. Watchful but not jealous. Sensible but not Irritable. Emulous but not Envious. Learned but not Pedantic. Benevolent but not Vain-glorious. Generous but not Profuse. Noble but not Prodigal. Dignified but not Proud. Spirited but not Haughty, Bold but not Assuming. Brave but not Savage. Valiant but not Fool-hardy. Resolute but not Obstinate. Confident but not Boasting. Industrious but not Avaricious, Prudent but not Parsimonious. Economical but not Covetous. Refined but not Affected. Soft but not Simple. Neat but uot Foppish. Communicative but not Tale-bearers. FRAGMENT. The following is said to be a fragment of an ancient Egyptian king found at Thebes. 1 never denied justice to the goor for his poverty ; neither pardoned the wealthy for his riches. I nev er gave reward for affection, nor pun ishment upon passion. I never suffered evil to escape unpunish ed, neither goodness unrewarded. I never denied justice to him that asked it, neither mercy to him that deserved it. I never opened my gate to the flatterer nor mine car to the hack-biter. 1 always sought to he beloved by the good, and feared of toe wicked. I always favored the poor, that was able to do little, and God, who was able to do much, always favored me. The writer of this Poem was one of that multitude of gallant young men, who, on the raising of the Prussian volunteers threw up their studies and took the field against iluo- | imparte. After distinguishing himself in se veral desperate actions in the beginning of 1813, and obtaining for his bravery, a com mission in the Hussars, he died of wounds received, we believe, in the great battle of Juterbach, the engagement by which Berlin was saved, and the final blow given to the French predominance in the north of Germa ny. In the intervals of the campaign, and on his dying bed, he occupied himself by the pursuits natural to bis accomplished mind ; and sonic of the most striking national poetry of his brief day was from the pen of Korner. BATTLE HYMN. Father of earth and li.uven, 1 call thy name. Round me the smoke and shout ot battle roll; Mine ties are dazzled with the rushing flame; Father sustain an untried soldier's soul; Or life, or death, whatever be the goal That crowns or closes round the struggling hoar. Thou know'st if ever from my spirit stole One deeper prayer, 'twas that no cloud might low'r On my young fame ! —O hear, God of eternal pow'r ! God, thou art merciful —the wintry storm, The cloud that pours the thunder from its womb, But show the sterner grandeur of thy form; The lightnings glancing thro' the midnight gloom, To Faith's raised eye, as calm, As splendours of the autumnal evening star, As roses shaken by the breeze's plume, When like cold" incense comes the dewy air, And ou the golden wave the sunset bums. lovely come. ; a ROCKING STONES. At the Fulling Mills in the town of War wick, Rhode Island, is a peculiar curiosity of this kind, which has been frequently visited, though not deservedly celebrated. A mi nute description of this stone, accompanied with a correct drawing, was published in Silli man's Journal, No. 2,vol. 7, furnished by Mr. Steuben Taylor, of this town—the drawing by Mr. Partridge. Its form resembles that of a tortoise, convex at the bottom, and some what concave on the top, placed in a horizon tal position ; about 10 feet in length, six in breadth, and two in thickness.—It reposes on another rock, which rises a few ieet above ground, and supports it at two points, form ing a double fulcrum near each end. Upon these points it is so exactly poised, that it laterally with the gentlest touch ; and although its weight is estimated at 4 tons, yet a child five years old may set it rocking, so that one of the sides will describe an arc, the chord of which will be 15 inches. The easiest way of rocking it is by standing upon it, and inclining the body alternately to eith er side. What renders this rock peculiarly remarkable is, that when one side descend» it gives four distinct pulsations, as if hitting at as many dretiuct points. The sound pro duced, is much like the heat of a drum, though much louder, and this has given it the appropiate name of " The Drum Rack." The noise, in a still evening, has been heard 6 miles. It was evidently once united to the rock on, which it rests, but whether placed on its present situation by some convulsion of na ture, or a combination of mechanical skill, is uncertain. It has been attributed to the Indians, and for aught we know might have served to lull-a-hy the royal Jiafiooses, and cradled the infant genius of Massaoit and Philip ; though it would seem to have requir ed the aid of machinery to effect its removal, beyond the mex'e labour of hands. This rock is fortunately so situated that neither a band of nimble sailors, nor the 4th. of July Bloods, or even the Roxbury workmen, could remove it without great labour, and we may there fore hope it will long remain, a subject of in quiry and a place of resort for the curious. moves it NATURAL CURIOSITY. Near the top of the mountain, under the firsf cliff of rocks, about a mile and a half from the road leading to Niagara, (onjthe Canadian shore) is situated a large Cave, within which about a rod of its mouth, is a spring which flows the whole year. About the end of March, the water i ssuing from the rocks free zes, forming large pieces of ice. During the heat of summer the ice continues to form. In the Fall of the year, about the end of Sep tember, as the weather gets cooler, the ice disappears, and there is no ice formed, dur ing the cold winter months, until the ensuing spring. The water is quite pure issuing out of the rock. SNAKES. Professor Luigi Metcxa, of Romehas pub lished an account ot some singular experi ments made by him on snakes. Among ci thers he endeavored to ascertain the truth of the assertions of the ancients respecting the predilection of Snakes for music and dancing. In the month of July 1822, about noon, he put into a large box a number of different kinds of Snakes, all quite lively, with the exception oi' some v ipers, which were enclosed in a separate box. As soon as they heard the harmonious tones of an or gan, ail the lion-v enomous serpents became agitated in au extraordinary manner; they attached themselves to the sides of the box and made every effort to escape. The ela fihis and the coluber Fscu/a/iii turned to wards the instrument. The vipers for their part exhibited no symptoms of sensibility. This experiment Iris been frequently re» peated, and always with the same results. THE INQUISITION. In a work entitled Letters .Yormandee , published in Paris, in 1820, the following ac count is given of a mode of torture practised in the Inquisition at Toledo, which may claim at least the praise of ingenuity, " General Lasalle, being at Toledo, went to visit the palace of the Inquisition; for in Spain the huinilit) of inquisitors is like that | of other monks, it wears a coarse cloak and ; dwells in a marble palace. At sight of the instruments of torture, the General, as well as the officers who were with him was seen to shudder, for it was more horrible than any thing presented by a field of battle. A mong these instruments, there was one which more particularly fixed the attention of the visiters, by giving the impression of a sacri lege. At the further end of a subterraneous dungeon, near the chair of the inquisitor, whose duty it was to interrogate those who were accused of heresy, there was placed in a niche, a statue of the Virgin. A golden halo surrounded her head, and her drapery descended in silken folds from her shoulders to her feet. In her right hand she held the ancient standard of the kings, and a breast plate was just \ isible under the folds of her robe. Altogether the statue re sembled that of Joan of Arc at Orleans. On examining it a little nearer, .they perceived that the breast plate was glistening with points of a vast number of little knives, and of nails sharpened like needles. The arms of the statue were moveable, and a handle placed behind the partition re - gulated its motions. General Lasalle gave orders for putting the machine in operation, and the sack of a Polish granadier was put in the place of the heretic.—When the han dle was turned, the statue extended its arm? and pressed the sack closely to Its breast. When it relaxed its grasp, the sack was found, to be a perfect seivc ; it was pierced with a thousand holes, and the knives hgd e»teref some lines in depth.