^ <>^^ ^X' IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) /y J Z ^» y. 7 V 11.25 121 ^m ■ 2.2 us U Li 12.0 I ^ iiiiJi^ Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (71&) 872-4503 ^ ^ , 1 !' 1i I 4: r Lord on« District of C( PI EC )NTENTS. i ES IN PROSE. 1 i Advertisement. : Page 5 i A Sketch 9 The Cotillon Party 37 Appendix to the Captive Patriot. . 46 1 ' The Patron of Bubble Port 73 t I A Fragment 07 ^ ■ Incidents of a Stage-coach 109 f A Celebration of American Independence. 131 .J-i The Mistaken Bride. ..... . 145 f The Lawyer's Apology . 188 t 1 Luck and 111 Luck . 206 1 ( POETRY. i i' Sonnet on Quebec 30 1' Address to the Sun. * 31 1 Sacred Song. . . 35 i The Captive Patriot. • 1 44 Woman. • . 70 Woman's Smile. k < » 72 Address to a Linnet. • . 86 W Christmas Hymn. » 89 1 The Maniac Girl. 1 . 91 1 Ode for the Fourth of July 1 • • 1 1 ■« 93 % To my Aching Tooth. < A • 95 1 The Course of Evil. • • « J 1 * < . 1 5 it iv CONTENTS. A Sonof of Love Pago IOC An Inscription — on the leaf of a Bible. . 107 Stanzas — written in a Lady's Album. . 126 Epitaph — for the Tomb of a Child. . . 127 The Soldier to his Blanket . 128 Impromptu. ....... . 130 Epitaph — for the Tomb of a Soldier. lb. Bite — the worst. ...... . 140 My Tailor . 141 Black-eyed Maryett. ..... . 143 Stanzas — written in a Lady's Album. . 144 Lines . 184 The False Maiden . 186 Lafayette. ....... . 204 Stanzas. ........ . 214 To the First Flake of Snow ; 215 Pago IOC . 107 . IW . 127 . 128 . 13a lb. . 140 . HI . 143 . 144 . 184 . 186 . 204 . 214 ; 215 ADVERTISEMENT. '' In December, 1838,1 was detained in the Citadel of Quebec, L. C, as a Prisoner of State, by the British Government. I had been subjected to a trial by a court martial in Upper Canada ; under the sentence of which court it was pretended I was held as a prisoner — notwithstand- ing, upon my appeal, the proceedings of the court were I declared to have been irregular, by Her Majesty's Go- I vernment in England, and on that ground, as I was in- formed, it had been ordered that I should be set at li- berty and permitted to return to my own country. I had addressed Lord Durham, while Governor Ge- neral of the Canadas ; Lord Glenelg, Her Majesty's Secretary of State for the Colonies, in London ; and the Lieutenant Governor of Upper Canada — objecting to the grounds of my detention, and complaining of the treatment to which I was subjected — but to no purpose. My communications to the functionaries of Her Majes- ty's Government were disposed of in the pigeon-holes A2 it I 6 ADVERTISEMENT. of their several oflicos, and I in one of tlic casemates of tlu; Citadel, where, I hccame satisfied, I might re- luiin until the walls of Quebec should bo battered down bv the cannon of some successfid band of " the Sons of hihcriij^^ unless I could procure more notice to be taken of my case than I was likely to obtain by merely sending my letters to the Colonial Ofliee in Downing- street. Therefore, with the hope of bringing my case to some favourable notice, I commenced the issue of a series of papers under the title of the " Stadacona Ga- zette^^ written with my pen in a manner to represent a printed newspaper. These papers were made to con- tain extracts from my letters in review of my case — and the pieces which will compose this volume. All of the articles in prose, and the most of those in poe- try, w^ere written expressly for the " Stadacona Ga- zcttc,^^ and had their origin with my imprisonment. At Quebec, I was in the custody of Sir James Mac- donell, Major General, commanding a brigade of Her Majesty's household troops, then stationed at that place - — and the officers and soldiers of a part of this brigade, the Coldstream Guards, which were then quartered in the Citadel, had the immediate charge of my person. The commandants of companies in this regiment, (who are of the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in the army,) are, in general, men of high standing and character in I ADVERTISEMENT. casemates might re- 3red down the Sons tice to be ^)y merely Downing- \ my case ssue of a 'cona Ga- present a e to con- |y case — me. All B in poe- "ona Ga- lent. les Mac- i of Her ^at place brigade, •tered in person, nt, (who I army,) racter in the Britishnation — many of them having been members of the Imperial Parliament, and the holders of other poli- tical stations in their country. The jimior oflicers are mostly of the nobility — lords themselves, or the sons and broth(irs of lords. With these people I had some opportunity of becoming acquainted, and their universally courteous deportment and kind atten- tion to me while a prisoner in their hands, have esta- blished large claims upon my gratitude : yet to ask their direct interference in my behalf with the government was a matter of delicacy on my part — and extr^^mely so, on theirs, to comply with such a request ; as the moment any of them should have been known to be acting as my agent in the matter, they would have been subject to denunciations and aspersions from the people of the Canadas, who are the " blood and carnage" ad- herents of the British Government — but my " Gazettes J"* (which were read by many in the Citadel,) were made a means of communication that could not possibly sub- ject the officers to censure who were disposed to inte- rest themselves in my behalf ; and who took the papers and forwarded them to those in power, (as a kind of li- terary curiosity,) with whom they were made to have the desired effect of producing my liberation. 1 claim but little merit for these compositions ; and as they are my first attempts at scribbling, and conse- \\ I'll 8 ADVERTISEMENT. ), ?!l quently devoid of that character and interest which be- long to the works of more perfect writers, peradven- ture, my friends will say, " I might as well have left them in my Port Folio." Nevertheless, as they have done me one good turn, I have concluded to venture them for another. New- York, January 8, 1840. t U^ U t which be- peradven- have left they have venture A SKETCH. t. '■tit.. I AM, myself, a native born citizen of the United States — and at the commencement of the civil commo- tions in the Provinces of the Canadas, was a resident of one of the frontier counties of the state of New- York. Then believing, as I did, that the people of the Canadas were about to make a hearty struggle for Li- berty — and being moved by a feeling of sympathy, which must ever be awakened in every truly Ameri- can bosom for any people who are in arms for the pur- pose of ridding themselves from the oppression of fo- reign rulers — I joined a body of armed men, then in possession of Navi/ Island, in the Province of Upper Canada, for the purpose of giving my aid, as a military officer, in establishing an Independent Republican form of Government in the Canadas, instead of the wretched Colonial System maintained therein by the British Go- vernment. At the time, (December, 1837,) almost the whole peo- ple of the frontiers of the United States had assumed 10 A SKETCH. an attitude of deep interest toward the result of the contest which was thought to have been begun — and very many of our American citizens then seemed to think it a duty to give personal aid to those people of the Canadas whom they conceived to be struggling for the same principles which had led our fathers to the field in 1776 — and entertaining such feelings in common with my countrymen, at the solicitation of a number of the Canadian Revolutionists, I embarked in their cause. After remaining with the force on Navy Island a short time, I was sent by the persons under whose or- ders I had acted to the Detroit frontier, with instruc- tions to take the command of a Patriot force which was being imbodied in that vicinity, for the purpose of co- operating with the force then on Navy Island ; and on the 8th day of January, 1838, I arrived on the Detroit River, where I found a considerable force imbodied, with which I remained until the 10th day of the same month, when I retired therefrom, and proceeded to the city of Detroit. The winter had then so far advanced, and the time of the year arrived, which, in latitude 42® north, gene- rally affords plenty of snow, brisk sleighing, and keen cold weather; yet the season had continued so re- markably mild that the earth still remained as dark and naked as ordinarily was its aspect in the month of No- vj t! si n mwo t A SKETCH. 11 esult of the begun — and seemed to e people of ruggling for hers to the i in common I number of their cause. y Island a whose or- th instruc- tvhich was ose of co- J ; and on le Detroit died, with ne month, le city of the time th, gene- nd keen so re- lark and of No- vember. The face of nature might have been well pic- tured by the representation of an old man tottering up- on the verge of a grave — still living — but cold and shivering, and looking as icy as the narrow trench into which he was about to fall. There had been but one flurry of snow, of a trifling quantity, and that, as it had fallen, had been immediately dissipated by a few hours' sun and a melting south wind. The ice congealed by the chills of the night was invariably reduced again to water by the warm atmosphere of the following day — and thus the roads were kept in a condition to be ploughed up by every wheel and hoof that passed over, or more literally speaking, through them. In every di- rection toward the interior of the state of Michigan, from Detroit, the face of the country is low and unbroken by hills, and seldom varied by the slightest undulations. The surface of the land exhibits an appearance of be- ing usually wet — and in some places it is sunken and swampy. In such a tract of country, the natural facili- ties for roads are few. The soil is the very worst ima- ginable for the purpose — and on it no process can pro- duce a good road without the application of the theory of Mr. McAdam. Which theory, whether it had its origin with the very Mr. McAdam of English fame, or some other son of Adam) I hold to be the true system of road making anywhere. I 13 A SKETCH. (i But to return ; On my arrival at Detroit, the roads in all directions in the vicinity were seen submerged, or else presenting one continuous slough, over vrhich a crust was now and then thrown by the frost, which, while it lasted, had no other effect than to render the passage more horrible to the traveller ; and through which, it was almost madness for one to attempt to force his way — and upon it none ventured, save those who were goaded on by some pressing emergency, or motive of speculation. During this state of the roads, every traveller, who appeared to be master of his own time, seemed to have chosen the city's precincts as a resting place, until a change of weather should make the avenues to the interior of the country more tolerable — and to abide with the hospitalities of the hotels, rather than venture life in the mud, mire, and water which pervaded the roads : and in the delay of the journey er there was this consolation to him — the roads could not be worse ! My motive in proceeding to Detroit, after leaving the Patriot force on the 10th of January, was to make the necessary arrangements for some farther military move- ments which were to be carried on by the revolutionists in Upper Canada, and in which it was my expectation to command ; and in fartherance of this object, I had in view to proceed immediately to the interior of the state. iv^^ Su A SKETCH. 13 the roads in bmerged, or er which a rost, which, render the nd through attempt to save those ergency, or ■ the roads, )f his own cincts as a ould make re tolerable the hotels, and water lay of the -the roads eaving the > make the tary move- olutionists xpectation t, I had in the state. But neither patriotism nor military ardour was sufficient to give me fortitude to put out and encounter the roads in their then horrible condition. So I placed myself upon the list of weather-bound voyageurs. There had been created in Michigan, by an act of a recent legislature of the state, what was called a " Ge- neral Banking System" — which had about this time got into full operation. Under this law, associations for the issue of bills, (as very few of the institutions were any- thing more,) were formed and established in multiplicity throughout the state. During my stay in Michigan I visited one village in the interior having no more than five or six hundred inhabitants, in which there were then no less than four of these banks, as they were denominated. Other villages, contaning half the num- ber of inhabitants, had two, three, and so on — and a number of places I passed through on my perambulations in the state,* existing as villages only in name, (as they contained no more than four or ^vq habitations each,) had, also, each their bank. The bills issued by these concerns, which bore the style of " Safety Fund Banks" — but more generally known by the name of " Wild-cat Banks"— -and their notes by the denomination of "Wild-cat Money" — were in most extensive circulation ; and as the flood- ing of the state with these bills had had the effect of ban- B ■tii" ^v- I I 14 A SKETCH. t ishing therefrom all better currency — the bills, however questionable in character, were by the people, ex neces^ sitatisj universally received and accepted as a currency for the ordinary transaction of business. Why these institutions of Michigan were called "Wild-cat Banks," I was never informed, and could not now even conjec- ture, unless it was that their location, or the places from whence many of the bills of the " Wild-cat Money " in circulation were issued, were matters of as much uncer- tainty, and as difficult to be arrived at, as was the whereabouts of the animal whose name they had been made to assume. In providing by law a " General Banking System," it had been ostensibly the intention of the legislature to confer the privilege of banking and of issuing negoti- able paper upon any association of persons in the state who should comply with certain regulations, intended to prevent the commission of fraud, and make an adequate pledge of real estate for the redemption of their bills. But so loosely was the law framed, and so insufficient was it in its provisions, that it had been made rather to encourage fraud by system, than otherwise, by authori- zing the issue of notes without there being afforded any real security to the holder for their redemption. The law was, however, subsequently so amended, or modifi- ed by other enactments, that some of its doors to fraud f? al i A SKETCH. 15 however ex neces" currency ly these Banks," conjec- 'Gs from ney " in 1 uncer- v^as the ad been y^stem," slature negoti- e state ided to equate r bilJs. fficient ther to uthori- ed any The nodifi- ) fraud n were closed up ; but not until the whole state, and the adjacent sections of other states, had been inundated by a flood of worthless and fraudulent paper. These issues of notes had been much aided in the attainment of an extensive and speedy circulation, by an inordinate spirit of speculation then pervading the community — an unreal and exorbitant value which had been given to every species of property — and the generally deranged state of the currency of the whole country. But banking and bill making association, were not the only incorporations that the legislature of the new state of Michigan had been prolific in bringing into existence. Rail-road incorporations flourished almost as extensively as " Wild-cat Banks ;" and if there had been rail-roads as abundant as rail-road incorporations, there had been less complaint and delay on account of the mud by which Detroit was surrounded. However, among the number of rail-roads for the construction of which incorporations had been formed, there was one to extend from Detroit to the village of Pontiac, some twenty miles or more to the north. This road had been graded for about half its distance from Detroit — and upon such part, rails were laid for one track, on which the company constructing the road, had commenced running a single car at stated times for the conveyance of passengers as far as Royal Oak, The remaining part of the route to Pontiac was I r 16 A SKETCH. supplied by an ordinary lumber wagon, as a means of conveyance. On a day appointed for the car to run upon this road, I concluded I would endeavour to make my way as far as Pontiac by means of these public conveyances, and took a seat in the car for Royal Oak. Other than my- self, there were but two passengers in the car. One of these, by the side of whom I was placed, was a young gentleman, apparently in the last of his teens. The other a young lady, who was, perhaps, his junior of two or three years. On my first entering the car, I guessed the two to be a brother and sister from one of the eastern cities of the United States, on a visiting tour to some of their family connexion settled in Michigan ; but on entering into conversation with them, it was soon made known to me that the individuals bore a nearer and closer relation to each other than that of brother and sister : and from their bland and polished manners, they proved, to me, very agreeable and amusing road compa- nions. They told me they were very recently from the city of New- York, and had taken up a residence at the village of Royal Oak, where our ride upon the rail-road would terminate. While the car rolled on by the agency of a one horse power, the conversation, in which both my fellow-pas- sengers engaged with true American ease and sociability, 1 tl A SKETCH. 17 turned upon the operation of the " General Banking System" of Michigan, and the universally deranged state of the currency which then existed in the country ; and, although they were both of an age that did not allow them a legal majority, the gentleman, nevertheless, spoke more advisedly of those matters, than I had often found it done by intelligent persons of a more perfect age— and in the matters of exchange, loans, and discounts, the lady showed herself no less learned than her lord. But, then, from their remarks, they left me no reason to doubt of their partiality for the " General Banking System" — which I ventured to maintain, was a most impolitic con- cern. From the drift of the conversation which had been carried on, with the fact that my fellow-passengers were, as they had informed me, recent emigrants from the city of New- York, I had drawn the conclusion that the young gentleman was engaged in the retailing of merchandize — and of this I ventured to inquire, when I was informed by him that he was the cashier of one the hanks established under the " General Banking System," located at Royal Oak ; and the lady produced from her reticule one of the bills of their hank, and ex- hibited it to me. So far as the bill was concerned it was a very handsomely executed engraving, with a beau- tiful vignette. A very pretty thing it was — and so was B3 IK i 18 A SKETCH. the lady ! Then being advised that we were near our stopping place, I put my head out of the window of the car in order to get a view of the village. From the name it bore, and the fact of its being the location of a bank J I had expected to see something of a place ; (for I was at that time altogether unacquainted with what constituted a village in Michigan,) but, to my surprise, I beheld little else than stumps and trees. The village was merely a cleared spot upon a plain, without stores, shops, or dwelling houses, save a single dwelling, then kept as a public house, with the barn and shed belong- ing to it, and a shed for the housing of the rail-road cars. There were no manufacturing establishments or advan- tages of hydraulic power ; and an entire absence of every local advantage, whatever, except that conferred by the bare existence of the rail-road. So extraordinary did this place seem to me for the location of a bank, that as the car was stopped, I was induced to inquire if we had really arrived at the village of Royal Oak 1 Being answered in the affirmative, and seeing nothing that looked like a banking-house, or office, I asked — • " where do you keep your bank ?" " Oh !" replied the lady, " my husband keeps the bank in his hat." From Royal Oak, I proceeded on to Pontiac, in an i M, A SKETCH. 19 i* .i:^'* "»«•'■ open wagon, hub deep in the mud. The next day, after my arrival at Pontiac, there was a light fall of snow, which enabled me to make my tour through the interior of the state with tolerable facility, and return to Detroit before the last day of the month. About the first of February, I became satisfied there could be no chance of success for any of the proposed movements of the revolutionists in Upper Canada, and relinquished my connexion with the Patriots ; and then abandoning all idea of being again employed as a military officer by any of the Canadian Revolutionists, I made •my relinquishment from their cause known by a notice, to that effect, published in a Detroit newspaper, and be- gan to make my arrangements to return to my home and former peaceful pursuits. But having formed a design to compile and publish a book, to be entitled " Navy Is- •land ; or, the First Movements of the Revolution in Up- per Canada,^''* in which I proposed to give an account (• '., ■'• sH' * A work bearing this title has been prepared by me, and is now ready for press. But, as I have been indicted in the United States Court for an alleged violation of the neutrality law, in the establish- ment of a military force on Navy Island in December, A. D. 1837, it would be altogether inconsistent with my interest, for me to pub- lish any account of those proceedings, for which I am to be tried, until after my trial shall have been gone through with — which I am informed by the United States Attorney, will be brought on at a Circuit Court appointed to be held at Canandaigua in June next — the eatUeat day when my case can be determined. 20 A SKETCH. :( i '1 of the Patriot movements in the Province of Upper Canada, and the transactions on the frontiers of the United States in aid of those movements ; and in order to procure the necessary information and documents for such work, it was necessary for me to delay my de- parture from Detroit a few days ; and then, when I was ready to proceed on my return, the snow was all gone, and the roads bare, and almost as impassable as ever. So 1 resolved to hold on for a little snow. I had made an arrangement for a private conveyance from Detroit to Toledo, in Ohio ; and the person in whose carriage I was to ride, had engaged it to be on the way in the first hour that there should be snow enough to slide a vehicle. I was already tired with the delay I had been subjected to, and dreaded a longer de- tention for the want of snow, when, to my great joy, the weather manifested a change. The atmosphere became thick and hazy, clothing the horizon with one dark and lowering cloud, which indicated that it was fixing for a storm — and the old ones prognosticated a copious fall of snow ; and, after a day spent in watching the ele- ments, at the usual hour, I retired, to dream of " the snow-path, sleigh, and jingling bells." On the morning, with the earliest dawn, I was at my window. My hands touched the fastening of the shut- ters, and in an instant they were folded back ; but, alas lit r A SKETCH. 21 for me, there was no mending of the ii^ds yet ! The heavens were still hung in drapery of dun ; and all with- out was cheerless and sombre. The cloud which cover- ed the horizon at night had looked as full as a sack of feathers, and I had thought heaven certainly would have shaken its dark garments before morning. Severe cold weather for a succession of days had closed the wet, and given the toads a solid foundation, if not a smooth surface > and through the promised snow-storm, I saw a speedy and pleasant return to my home, and had gone to my couch with much the same feelings as a new made militia colonel may be supposed to retire with on the evening that precedes the general muster at which he is to make his debut in the field ; for although I had no such glory in the perspective, I was as much perplexed with the weather on finding the ground still bare in the morning, as the said officer might have been at being awakened on the morning of his parade day, by the patter- ing of a rain-storm. But I had this advantage — the omens of the sky promised still the gratification of my desires, without the chance of much farther delay. My abode was at one of the hotels of the city ; and when the bell rang for breakfast, I went down and took my seat at the public table in a frame of mind similar to that enjoyed by the bride-groom, as he takes his last meal before the wedding supper : not, however, that I had in my mind's '!; Ii !i. u l^ 22 A SKETCH. eye any such nice things ; but, when the mind is other- wise unoccupied, whatever it embraces or takes up, whether it be great or small, fills it alike. On returning to my apartment from the breakfast room, I again proceeded to the casement. " Oh ! ho !" said I to myself, " it snows /" Old Boreas was awake, and had just began to pick his geese, as the sailors say. The flakes of snow were then tumbling down in quick succession, and so fast did they follow each other in their fall, that in a brief moment the ground was spread with a white coat. In beholding the operation of sift- ing the clouds, I was highly delighted, and immediately proceeded to a porch of the hotel, where I could more freely enjoy the view. There, having made myself quite comfortable in my cap and cloak, I had remained for sometime watching, with the most pleasurable feel- ings, the rapidity with which the snow was accumulating in the streets — and with nothing vexed, but the idea that the greater part of the article just then so much needed in the roads, would be uselessly scattered over the fields and the house tops, when my ears were saluted with a " hurra /" and I beheld a bevy of schoolboys issuing from a room on the opposite side of the way. " Hurra ! it snows /" cried 'the leader of the gang, as he leaped into the element ; and as his fellows followed him from their apartment, and found themselves beyond A SKETCH. 23 the control of the pedagogue, the " hurra /" was echoed and re-echoed. Their little hearts seemed ready to burst with joy. As they tramped to and fro in the light mass which had already covered the ground, they turned their faces to the skies, and exultingly shouted, " it snows — oh, it snows f" Then they were divided into two distinct squads or forces, and arrayed against each other. Anon, the air was filled with flying balls of snow, hurled by the one party upon the other, and returned by a seeming fair ex- change, while the neighbourhood was made to resound with the shout of victory as it was thought to declare for the one or the other of the contending parties. Leaving this scene, I retired toward my apartment with a view to put myself in readiness for immediate departure. I mounted the first flight of stairs and ar- rived in the hall of the second floor. Before entering my room, I walked to a front window in order once more to observe how it went with the juvenile parties to the joust in the street. In the position I had thus taken, on my left was the entrance to a lady^s parlour — and on my right, that of a gentleman. To this last, as I placed myself at the window of the hall, a servant came up to answer a summons. SI ' ^: i ' ( . I '■ I ' ; iirrj^ 10 i I' m i] ■1 24 A SKETCH. " Did you ring, sir ?" inquired the servant, as he threw open the door. " I did" — was the answer. As the door fell back upon its hinges, I beheld the occupant of the room, an aged invalid, shivering over the diminished fire of his grate. " It snows,^^ said he, " and I desire you to close the the shutters of my windows ; and bring me up some more fuel, that I may replenish my fire." The servant entered to execute the first order, as I supposed, and as he closed the door after him, I heard the invalid groan out in the most piteous accents, " Oh ! how grievous I feel this storm." At the same instant, I heard the sound of hurried steps ; and on turning round I beheld a young lady trip- ping it toward me through the hall, upon almost a very run. Approaching the door on my left, she threw it wide open, and as she entered, exclaimed — " Oh ! Martha, it snows /" I followed her into the parlour with my eyes, where there was another female, a companion as she seemed. As the one entered, the other, who was also young, was sitting, or rather reclining, upon a sofa at the farther side of the apartment. In her hand she held a book, in the reading of which she appeared to have been engaged \ and it was evident from her man- ner by to sn( us m] still aftt |4 A SKETCH. 25 ner that until that moment she had been ignorant of the fact communicated by her fair friend. Upon the noti- fication given her, she arose, threw down her book, sprung to the window, and putting aside the tapestry by which it was surrounded — " la, me !" said she, " so it does." The door had fallen back against the wall, leaving the entrance wide open. The young ladies had taken a position at the casement, very near and partly before a large mirror placed between the two front windows of the apartment — and there they stood, two as lovely and beautiful creatures as any of the daughters of Eve. " Now, Fanny," said the one, as she gazed from the window upon the street, '* this snow will be most de- lightful for the cotillon party at , on Thursday next ;" and then she turned to examine her complexion by the glass. " Oh ! yes," replied the other ; '*but you are not going to wait until that time, my dear Martha, to enjoy this snow, I hope ? Joseph, you recollect, promised to take us out as soon as the roads should be white ; and look ye, the street is more than whitened already. Why ! my dear, this moment the snow is quite plentiful, and still increasing. We must go out sleighing this very afternoon." C 1 . '1 I ■■ t . I-' ■tiii i ': k i^m^ Wl< 26 A SKETCH. f^ " Is it not too blustering, my dear Fanny ?" asked the other. " It may be, it blows a cold breath or so, but that is nothing bad." Then casting her eyes on her own figure in the glass, " Oh ! Martha !" exclaimed she, " how do these jewels become me ? I have just put them on for the first time" — calling the attention of her companion to a pair of brilliant ear jewels she wore, and a rich gold necklace gracefully thrown round a neck still richer with nature's gifts. " Oh, splendid !" was the reply ; and this was all I saw or heard of the fair creatures. I could stay no longer to gaze at " woman's lovely form," or to listen to the soft sounds which fell from " beauty's coral lips.'' I saw my sleigh ready in the street. A moment took me to my room, and in another I was prepared to leave it — my baggage put in charge of a porter, and I down at the door. A bustle and confusion had there commenced. Porters loaded with baggage, and travellers muffled to the eyes, were pouring out from the principal entrance of the hotel. There was already a jam of sleighs at the door — and the cry of " whoa ! Charley,'' every now and then, gave notice of an addition ; while the quick succession in which came the ''good bye^' and the crack of the m # )» \ \ li A SKETCH. 27 whip, told that the number was fast diminishing. Af- ter a brief delay, the crowd became so reduced as to allow my baggage being stowed in my sleigh ; and I was ready to say the " good %c," and be off. But just as I was about to step into my vehicle, a circumstance occurred to detain me for a little while ; and the person with whom I was to proceed having suggested that he was desirous to stop for a short time at a house in another street, I proposed to meet him at the place named, as soon as I was again ready to proceed. In less than a half hour, all my business was dis- posed of, and I once more ready to go. I then immedi- ately proceeded to the street where I expected to find my man with his sleigh and my baggage — but there he was not to be found. I called at the house where he engaged I should meet him ; and there I was informed he had gone to see an individual at another house, to which I was directed. To this I proceeded. On opening the front door, a principal entrance to the build- ing, I found myself in a broad and dreary hall, from which there were several doors opening into different apartments ; and a flight of stairs leading to a second story. The house was one of those kind of structures intended for the use of the poorer class of city tenants, and calculated to accommodate [contain] a number of distinct families. As I entered the hall, I encountered a small boy passing through it, bearing upon his shoiU- 5' . It !'■ 1 •! i l^ i.'fl " fr I'i if' *!ii 28 A SKETCH. ..■'i r: der a light stick of fire-wood. Him I accosted, and asked if , the person I was informed my man had called to see, was within ? " He lives up stairs, sir," was the boy's reply. At the same moment, the indivi- dual inquired after appeared at the head of the stair- case, and gave me the information that my man had been there, but was then gone. As I was about to return to the street, I observed the boy I had encountered on first entering, near a door which he was demanding to be opr^ned to him. The demand was complied with by a person from within, a woman of a careworn aspect, though scarce of middle age. *' Mother," cried the boy, as she undid the door, "oh, how it snows ! and this is the last stick of wood." " Oh ! God !" ejaculated the woman — " is this the last stick of wood ?" and as she took it from the boy's hand, the door was re-closed ; and I saw no more of her, whom I learned was a poor widow with a depen- dant offspring. Then, a few strides brought me to the street again. But there finding nothing of the man I was seeking, his sleigh, or my baggage, it became evident he had (rone and left me. Under these circumstances I could do no more than return to the hotel, and seek for another conveyance with which to proceed ; and as I footed my wai CUE wh boy SW( ed wic sou Iti! pail hap wit] so J If IP \ A SKETCH. 29 my way back along the streets, everything around me was passed unnoticed, and I even forgot the vexing cir- cumstance of my own, in a contemplation of the scenes which had just passed before my eyes. The school- boy's shout of glee — the groans of the invalid — the sweet accents of the love inspiring maids — the express- ed elation of the travellers — and the sighs of the poor widow, commingled in my imagination and filled my soul with amazement. But why should I be amazed ? It is evident that nature has ordained that misery and pain shall have a residence next door to pleasure and happiness — and that sorrow and despair shall travel within shaking-hands distance of joy and ecstacy : and so it must ever remain in this world. Irt ! ■i! :l-^ \\\- ."f ''I »^ C2 ilH' I'M; I " )■■' SONNET ON QUEBEC. Written while imprisoned in the Citadel. Bright in the sun — high, frowning o'er the wave, Thy bold promontory's unshaken rock Defies the storm — and dares the earthquake's shock ! Thou hast the gallant dead — and crouching slave, And dire oppression — since bold Cartier bore The Donnacona captive from thy shore. The French, in wrong, thy savages expelled ; Then they were vanquished, as the Brittons came, And gave new masters — tyrants all the same — Who have the march of freedom now repelled ! Yet, thrice armed tow'rs shall fail, here, long to stand The despot's prop — where freemen should command : And in triumph shall plant, " the sons of liberty," On thy dismantled walls — the standard of the free ! DONNACONA. When Jaques Cartier visited Quebec, in 1534, it was then the seat of an Indian village called Stadacona. Here, on the 17th of September, he opened a friendly communication with the natives ; and on the following day, says the historian, " the Lord of Cana- da, whose proper name was Donnacona," came with twelve ca- noes full of people, eight being in each, to visit the strangers as they lay at anchor between the island and the north shore, and tendered them his amity and confidence. In 1536, Cartier having resolved to return to France, seized Donnacona, with a number of other Indians of note, and carried them off to France for the purpose of presenting them to the king. — Hakluyt. ADDRESS TO THE SUN, On beholding a morning beam on my prison wall. I' ■ 1 I L Why thus obtrude thy glitt'ring ray, Within my barred and dreary cell ? But, to the free, proclaim the day, My darkness thou cannot dispel : I, here, no day nor night would know ! So, dazzling sun beam, quickly go I IL Go, shed thy light o'er half the earth, And gild the lofty mountain's top ; Awake the grove to music's mirth, And let the herd the herbage crop ; Call forth the ploughman to the field, And bid the soil its plenty yield. IIL Go, shed thy light on oceatfs wave, Where loud terrific waters roar. There thou some shattered bark may save, By showing forth the wished for shore — And let the shipwrecked seaman gain The port long strove for — ^but in vain ! '• ■»: m mf I!! I -' ||| h ^ k III ! 1 I I ill I!" 111 32 ADDRESS TO THE SUN. il Go, bid awaken to the drum, The soldier armed for fields of strife ; Arouse the city's busy hum, And call the living mass to life — Where gilded crime is meed of praise, And want is hid by wealth's proud blaze. V. Go, wake the slumbers of the maid ; And break the lover's dream of bliss ; Merchants recall to schemes of trade ; And let industry sleep dismiss : Go, bring the miser to behold And count again his mass of gold. YI. But, shed for me no beam so fair. Nor pierce Avith light my casement's grate ; From every ray my dungeon spare ; Nor make me conscious of my fate : While bolts and bars prescribe my lot, Let night and darkness shroud my cot. i 1 On the 4th of March, A. D. 1838, 1 became a pri- soner in Canada — and was immediately sent to Toron- to, the seat of government of the Upper Province. On -f *l) NOTE. 33 I I ) I On my arrival at that place, I was directly taken to the Go- vernment House, where I had an interview with Sir Francis Bond Head, then lieutenant Governor of the Province, who informed me it was the intention of *' the Government" to subject me to a speedy trial — and lie advised me to prepare my mind for an execution — as he assured me, nothing could save me from such a fate ! From the Government House I was conveyed to the garrison — and on the next day, at 10 o'clock, I was ar- raigned before a Court Martial — and it was during the progress of my trial before this court, that the pre- ceding *' Address to the Sun" was composed. It was at a time when my execution was believed to be inevitable by almost every inhabitant of Toronto — and much expected by myself. I was confined in a room of a magazine whose walls were four or five feet thick, with treble-locked doors and massive grates at the windows. This, of itself, would have forbidden all idea of getting out, if I had been left there alone ; but the security against my escape was made doubly so by a chain of five sentinels posted on the outsid-e of the building, with another who walked by the side of my bed. Then, to these there were added three Irish Orangemen, sworn in as special constables, who re- mained in the room near my person, to ensure the fidelity of the soldiers, who are always distrusted by f : i li r ' m ■ ¥\ I .1 ! I \ *t^ 34 NOTE. their officers. I had risen with the first strcakings of the morning light — the sky was clear, and not a cloud floated over the liorizon. The month of April had come in, and the goddess of spring was beginning to unbosom herself to nature. My window was upon the east ; and as the sun rose from behind the broad ex- panse of the lake, it gave brilliancy to the waters of the bay, and threw a deep ray within my apartment, paint- ing the wall with the most glowing colours. At the moment, all nature seemed to be rejoicing in the reful- gence of day — and then the thought that I should, per- haps, no more enjoy its sweets — but that I must go from my cell to the grave — that the sun would shine no more for me — but to mock me, gave rise to the feelings ex- pressed in these stanzas. SACRED SONG. 1 h.' i| r I. Eternal God ! thy grace impart, To guide my feet aright ; Awake my slumb'ring, sinning heart From nature's rayless night. Let not these eyes be dimmed with age, Nor clouds come o'er the sun, Till 1 have read, on wisdom's page, How vain my thoughts have run. II. While health is blushing on my cheek, And youth's firm step I tread ; E'er time's cold hand, its blossoms bleak, Hath scattered o'er my head ; Bring back my heart, from earthly joys. And pleasure's bright career : Why have I sought for glitt'ring toys, Or grasped for gold or gear ? 36 SACRED SC/NCV. III. As down the road of youth I glide, With folly in my train, A fragile hope of human pride, Is all of worldly gain : But with diviner reason blest, RememVring God I'll live— And know my soul's eternal rest, 'Tis He, alone,. can give^ ! ^ i THE COTILLON PARTY. On the evening of a cold day in the winter of 18 — , 1 arrived at M , a small village located in one of the interior counties of the State of Michigan. The situation was in the heart of a wilderness, and the place had had its existence, in name, only for about a year and a half ; although it then contained some extensive mills, a number of stores and shops, about twenty dwell- ings, with a very tolerable public house, at which, on the evening of my arrival, there was to be a Cotillon Party, and this I was invited to attend. x\t an early hour the company had collected and the dancing commenced, and as soon as I had changed my travelling dress for one suited to the occasion, and subjected my person to the necessary polish at the toilet, I was introduced to the company, in the assembly room, by one of the managers of the party, with whom I had had a previous partial acquaintance. The apart- ment in which 1 joined the company had nothing in its construction, fixtures, or furniture, deserving remark. It occupied the whole extent of the second story of the ■'d' m ■. i ■. : ,, H fn i ']: S'M m m m ■ m ^i- 38 THE COTILLON PARTV. building, and will be sufficiently described by saying — ' it was in all respects like the assembly rooms common to the taverns of the country villages in the middle and western states. But the splendour of the company — it was far beyond anything 1 had ever thought of seeing in the interior of a yet wilderness country. The dis- play of fashion and richness of dress there exhibited, one would hardly find equalled with the hon ton of the first Atlantic cities of America. The dark shade of the fine glossy coats of the gentlemen was most agreeably relieved by the bright colours of the dresses worn by the ladies : and the show of gold chains and neck- laces, with the diamon J a and emeralds which blazed from brooches and rings, and glittered in the ear jewels of the ladies, presented an almost indescribable bril- liancy. On my first introduction, the individuals who formed the company, all appeared to me as fully polish- ed as their finery indicated — ^but the consequent fami- liarity of a few hours' acquaintance, served so far to re- move the gilding as to allow me to discover that they were not exactly of the same material, nor of an equal degree of refinement. To make the distinguishment was but an easy matter. The awkward manner of one — the vulgar expression of another — and the uncourteous deportment and swaggering gait of others of the men told their sort — as readily as was seen the true polish of MS 1 THE COTILLON PARTY. 39 tKe gentlemen : and in moving through the figure of a contra dance, in which I engaged in the passing of the evening, I was no little amused in discovering the great variety that existed among the females of the company ; all of whom claimed to be ladies, and of an equality. It is Lord Byron, I think, who said, he looked to the hand as a test of nobility. But having seen some of the British nobility with hands which might grace a labourer or mechanic, I doubt this being the lordling's true sign. Nevertheless, the hands are, perhaps, a good test for gentility ; for in joining hands with the ladies on this occasion, as it came my turn in the dance, I did not find the operation like " a fingering of the ivory keys," a touching of unvaried smoothness. The first hand I held in mine was soft and velvet like ; the next was coarse and harsh as a blacksmith's. Again, I held a hand that was lovely and pretty^ — but only through a light kid glove was I allowed to feel its texture ; then I grasped one, or rather mine was grasped by a hand that held it like a vice, and as I groaned with the pain I received from the squeeze, I thought it had been the hand of Hercules ; the next I met was more relaxing ; another's was thick, clumsy, and sweaty ; but then, anon, I touch- ed a hand ..lat ** thrilled mine to the bone" with an ecstasy of pleasure. The owner was a lovely girl of sixteen, and exceedingly beautiful. This fair creature ■.»! ( -i! am m m 40 THE COTILLON PARTY. 1 solicited and obtained as a partner for the next Cotil- lon. The individuals composing the party with which I had met on the occasion I have noticed, were, without any exceptions, recent settlers of the State of Michigan ; and as to the countries they had emigrated from, they were not less diversified, than in the respect I have mentione I. While there were but a few of them from any one state ; there was hardly a single state in the Union that had not at least one representative ; and the throng was well peppered and spiced with Europeans : and then, as to distinctions and titles, one could hardly have heard more of such matters had he been at Al- mack's, in London, than did I hear bandied about at this party, by our plain republicans. With the gentlemen, there were generals, colonels, majors, captains, and es- quires in abundance ; but very few who claimed only the simple title of Mister : and the ladies, too, were not less ambitious in claiming connexion with the men of great names of this earth. I was there introduced to a lady, who told me she was the wife of a general some- body, (not present,) who had served as such in the army of one of the South American states. I knew nothing of her or her gallant consort, and so, of course, I be- lieved her story. One of the young ladies informed me she was the daughter of the collector of customs of the bu] leftl gai wil wit tin 'HI ■tl) .J' THE COTILLON PARTY. 41 port of New Orleans, and was then staying with the family of a judge somebody in the neighbourhood, who was her relation. Another young lady said she was the daughter of another judge somebody of Richmond, Virginia. To one I was introduced who was said to be a daughter of a certain member of congress — to an- other, the daughter of a senator of one of the states — and another, the sister of a state legislator ; and so on was it among the ladies, with whom the idea of con- sideration seemed to be everything. One of them, by whom i had a seat while at the party, even gave herself the trouble to name and describe to me her uncles, grandfathers, and great uncles, to the number of half a dozen or more individuals, all of whom were still, or had been men of great consequence in one of the in- terior towns of a New England state, where they re- sided ; and she seemed greatly surprised at my ignorance of their fame — as she assured me their names had been frequently printed in the village gazette. Having gone forward and back, (ultro citroque am- bulare,) cross over — dos a dos — chassee, and right and left through a Cotillon with the young lady I had en- gaged as a partner, and being exceedingly interested with her loveliness and vivacity of manner, I retired with her to a side of the room for the purpose of con- tinuing a conversation which h^di been commenced D3 I ■ i it. ni i ■•'• 1 ; .\4 t S '■ \ ■'A' . ! ■1 ^ ■? 1 1* 1. •' 'Ir \- ■■ .') \o i ki : :||»i 1' \, ni' 1 '■ WB '^ ' mm i'l ' 4' fiU 'il i% ujl in IWm'h 1 ■ji V, i ' nt i '- 1 li w '1 Ik'' m , 1 'it 42 THE COTILLON PARTT. during the commands and evolutions of the dance. In this conversation, the young lady having several times mentioned her father, I inquired, if he was not a lawyer ? as I had been led to suppose, by some of her observa- tions, he was of that profession. " Oh, no," said she, " my father is not a lawyer — he is a president." ^' A president," said I to myself, " what can the girl mean ?" I had never heard of the individual she had named as her father, as being the president or vice president of these United States — and I thought of Bible Societies, Temperance Societies, and many other societies of the like kind, all of which I had understood had their presidents — but I could not conceive that any individual would assume, as a business appellation, the titles he might acquire by presiding over any such in- stitutions — and so I ventured to ask the young lady, ** what was the business her father was engaged in ?" " He is a president, sir," again answered she. " He used to be a lawyer, but now he is a president ; and he says he has madti more money by that business than he ever did as a lawyer," I was then, after hearing this statement, more puzzled than ever. I knew that our president receives a salary of twenty-live thousand dollars per annum, (which may make the office a profitable one, and it may not,) but, ■) U I ) I f THE COTILLON PARTY. 43 then, I knew as well that the individual the young lady had claimed as her father was not at the time president of these United States, and never had been — unless I had been sleeping, like Rip Van Winkle, for fifteen or twenty years past. That there was any other presi- dency, which could be made a profitable concern, did not strike me at the time. Thus confounded I dropped the subject and all farther inquiries in the matter. Being shortly after separated from this young lady, and joined with a gentleman in another part of the room, I inquired of him, who and what her father was ? " He is a lawyer," answered the gentleman. " But," said I, " the young lady has told me her father is not a lawyer now — that he is a president. Pray, what does she mean by that ?" " Why," replied he, " her father is a president of a Wild-Cat Bank." ' iiiiiid Um |.:: i i I 1*1 '^1 ,. ''1 11^ M Ml i 5- ' ii t i m THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. Written while imprisoned in the Citadel of Quebec, L. C, I. The night has flung o'er tree and glade, Its curtain of a murky shade ; The distant mount, whose cap is blue, Wears garments of a darker hue ; The beasts retire — the serf is blest, His toil has ceased — and he has rest ; But I my pallet seek in vain, While doom'd to wear the captive's chain, IT. Another day's pervading light. Now bursts the dusky shroud of nighty And tow'r, and spire, and cliff and lawn„ Are painted with the blushing dawn ; While man his round of luil renews, And youth the pleasure path pursues ; But, night or morn, no joy I gain, While here I weaj the captive's chain. i THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 43 V > ^ ' III. Here, grates my darkened windows spread, And fill my drooping soul with dread ; Damp dreary walls my footsteps bound ; My peace the clanging bolts confound ; I breathe the dungeon's noxious air ; My cheek grows pallid with despair : But, why should I, of ills complain ? For Liberty — I wear the chain ! IV. For Liberty ! far more than I, In gloomy prisons droop and sigh ; For thee — lamented Riego fell ; In might, arose the suffering Tell ; And Chillon's pavements, cold and hard. Were marked with tracks by Bonnivard ; And Lafayette — first of thy train, Long wore the galling captive's chain. V. Then, there were the glorious dead, Who for my struggling country bled ; A Warren's blood was freedom's price ; De Kalb was made a sacrifice ; Pulaski fell in gallant strife ; Brave Morgan nobly barter'd life ; And martyr died the patriot Hayne — While Allen wore the captive's chain. . ■ I ■'I m m M «; ! • i '*• i 1 r f ■j ■ '^ t'i ■1 i i 46 APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. VI. And many a Greek has proved as true — When Greece had wrongs of ruddy hue ; Oppression gave to Trenck a fame ; A Barneveldt as much might claim ; And oft in bonds like these we see, Him who hath armed for Liberty I Then, I the thought of grief disdain, Though, now, 1 wear the captive's chain. i » '■ APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. QUEBEC, L.C. A Translation from Bouchett^s " Description Topo- graphe de la Province du Bas Canada^ The summer scenery of the environs of Quebec may vie in exquisite beauty, variety, magnificence, sub- limity, and the naturally harmonized combination of all these prominent features, with the most splendid that has yet been portrayed in Europe or any other part of the world. Toward Beauport, Charlebourg, and Lorette, the view is diversified with every trait that can render a landscape rich, full, and complete ; the fore- ground shows the river St. Charles meandering for many miles through a rich and fertile valley, embellish^ APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 47 1 " ed by a succession of objects that diffuses an unrivalled animation over the whole scene. The three villages with their respective churches, and many handsome detached houses in the vicinity, seated on gently rising eminences, form so many distinct points of view ; the intervals between them display many of the most strongly marked specimens of forest scenery, and the surrounding country everywhere an appearance of fer* tility and good cultivation, upon which the eye of the spectator wanders with careless delight. As the pros- pect recedes it is still interesting, the land rising in gradation, height over height, having the interval be* tween succeeding elevations filled up with primeval forests, until the whole is terminated by a stupendous ridge of mountains, where lofty forms are dimly seen through the aerial expanse. The sense of vision is gratified to the utmost, and the spectator never fails to turn with regret from the contemplation of what is al* lowed to be one of the most superb views in nature. Nor is it on this side only that the attention is arrest* ed ; for, turning toward the basin, which is about two miles across, a scene presents itself that is not the less gratifying for being made a secondary one ; it is en* livened by the ever-changing variety of ships coming up to, and leaving the port ; on the right hand, Point Levi, with its church and group of white houses :.' I li" 1' i' y'I ■ 1 tt iifj }"'[,■: ' ?*■ ''-i V *i ' f • 1 " ' '>'i 1 L A.' pi 1 ': II h:} 1 "i ' in m ( « ^KT'i 1 1 K.: 48 AJTENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. -—several other promontories on the same shore, cloth- ed with lofty trees, and the very animation attendant on the constant arrival and departure of ferryboats ; in front the western end of the beautiful and picturesque Island of Orleans, displaying charming and well-culti- vated slopes down almost to the w^ater's edge, backed by lofty and thick woods, and everywhere decorated with neat farm-houses, present altogether an interest- ing and agreeable subject to the observer. In fine still weather the mirage, or reflection, of the diflJerent objects around the margin, in all their variety of colour- ing, are thrown across the unruflied surface of the Avater with an almost incredible brilliance. On the plains of Abraham, from the precipice that overlooks the timber grounds, where an incessant sound of ac- tivity prevails, the St. Lawrence is seen rolling its majestic wave, studded with many a sail from the stately ship down to the humble fishing boat ; the opposite bank, extending up the river, is highly cultivated, and the houses thickly strewed by the main road, from this height and distance have the appearance of an almost uninterrupted village, as far as the eye can reach in that direction. The country to the southward rises by a very gentle ascent, and the whole view, which is richly embellished by alternations of Avater, woodland, and cultivation, is bounded by remote and lofty moun- { >i ) ' ^ APl'BNDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 49 A-. lains, softening shade by shade, until they melt into air. SERF. The present political and domestic condition of the hahitans of Lower Canada, give full license for the ap- plication to them of the term serf. RIEGO. In 1820, RiEGO was among the most influential and active of the Spanish Patriots ; and upon the restora- tion of despotism, in 1824, he suffered execution. At an anniversary of the Spanish Benevolent Society of the city of New York, in 1838, when immediately after one of the toasts the band played Riego's March, the Rev. Dr. Varela, the companion of the Patriot, and who, together with Dr. Thomas Gener, came to this country, became visibly agitated, and arising from his seat, expressed himself in the following language : Gentlemen — I had resolved to keep silence on this occasion, but a military band, striking up the hymn of Spanish Liberty, has awakened in my bosom the most terrible emotions, which I cannot repress, and I can with difficulty utter. Words cannot flow in proper order when ideas present themselves without any ; and I expect from your goodness that you will excuse the faults of my language, on account of the vehement i^igitation of my spirits. I had the honour of being the E -r ! ,1 ii m ii m m k i i ft' do APPENDIX TO trtE CAPTlVE PATKtOV. companion of Riego ; in the Spanish Cortes we strug-* gled together ; together we met danger, he perished : I have found an asylum on this soil of liberty. What a ftiiiltitude of ideas crowd upon my memory? What contending feelings of sadness and of joy move my soul upon recalling those memorable scenes, upon hearing that hymn of glory, which fourteen years ago caused my boi^om to heave, and moi'e especially now, when thai hymn of freemen is sung in a foreign land by a Spanish Society, accompanied by the beating of hands ! Yes, my friends, you have aroused in my bosom a fire smouldering there, but never extinguished. M5'' wishes are your wishes, and may it please Heaven that Spaiil may never again have a Ferdinand, and that it may produ(ie many Riegos. I am not animated by a spirit of revenge ; I do not speak from resentment ; this is not elicited by my present emotions, nor by an over- wrought imagination ; it is, my friends, the fruit of many years of study and profound meditation, all of which confirm me more in my belief of the principles of religion and liberty. Vnfortunately, many of my brother clergymen beUet)e these two incompatible, and they give themselves up to a strange delusion ; buf, gentlemen, you are just, and you will grant that Spairt has a large number of virtuous ecclesiastics, in whosd bosoms are engraved the principle of freedom, because I a a i I) 1 I ^> I ) i APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 51 0) i I there is engraved there the principle of all that is good ; and on them I trust, and from them I expect the triumph and glory of the church. Gentlemen, allow me to offer, in conclusion, this sentiment : The diffusion of hnow^ ledge and of charity for the destruction of fanaticism and the glory of religion- TELL. Nor Tell disclose, through peril and alarm, The might that slumbers in a peasant^s arm. Campbell's Pleasures or Hope. William Tell — one of the celebrated heroes of Switzerland, who restored liberty to their oppressed country in 1307. The conspiracy which he had form- ed with others was suspected, when the Austrian gover- nor, Herman Gesler, more clearly to ascertain the spirit of the people, ordered a hat to be raised on a pole, and homage to be paid tp it as to himself Tell refused, and when seized for disobedience, was directed to shoot an arrow at an apple placed on the head of his own 8on, or else to be dragged with his child to immediate death. He cleft the apple in two without injuring his son, and declared that the other arrow, which he had in his girdle, was intended for the heart of the governor if he had hurt his child. This boldness occasioned his confinement, and the governor, afraid of a rescue, ca^-» ■j'i| ■'.! 'iu ; •■»■ '^ I'' ft -I w f 52 APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. ried him across the lake to Liicem ; but a violent storm obliged Gesler, who knew the nautical skill of his pri- soner, to intrust to him the helm of his own preserva- tion. Tell, freed from his fetters, steered the boat to a rock still called by his name, leaped ashore, and es- caped into the mountains. The governor afterward was shot by the hand of Tell, and the Swiss, roused to arms by the conduct of their hero, drove away their Austrian masters, and established the independence of their country. ^—Lempier. BONNIVARD. The Prison or Chillon — situated between Clarens and Villeneuve, which last is at one extremity of the Lake of Geneva. On its left are the entrances of the Rhone, and opposite are the heights of Meillerie and the range of Alps above Boveret and St. Gingo. Near it, on a hill behind it, is a torrent ; below it, washing its walls, the lake has been fathomed to the depth of 800 feet, (French measure ;) within it are a range of dungeons, in which the early reformers, and subsequently state prisoners, were confined. Across one of the vaults is a beam black with age, on which we were informed that the condemned were formerly executed. In the cells are seven pillars, or rather eight, one being half emerged in the wall ; in some of ') .k I I [ ^ ) li ' APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 53 them there are rings for the fetters and the fettered ; in the pavement the steps of Bonnivard have left their traces ; he was confined here several years. Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace, Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod. By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface, For they appeal from tyranny to God. Lord Byron. LAFAYETTE. Gilbert Mottier, Marquis de Lafayette. He was born at Chj^ -nnc, near Brion de Auvergne, Septem- ber 6, 1757. li; was educated at Paris, appointed an officer in the guards of Honour, and at the age of six- teen married the granddaughter of the Duke of Noiles, In 1777 he left France secretly, and hastened to Ame- rica ; arriving at Charleston, S. C, at the age of nine- teen, he received a command in the continential army, and raised and equipped a body of men at his own ex- pense. Congress passed various resolutions, honour- able to him, and after displaying- a chivalric gallantry at Yorktown, the young Marquis once more set sail for his native country. In 1784, he complied with the va- rious urgent entreaties to visit this country, and was everywhere received with the most touching marks of gratitude and esteem. During the French revolution be appeared the warm and consistent friend of liberty^ E2 \4 t\ • i- ii ■ M i -si 54 APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. but the enemy of licenciousness, and as commander-in- chief of the National Guards of Paris, saved the lives of the royal family at Versailles. He organized the club of Fuillans, in opposition to the infamous Jacobin club, the members of which he openly denounced. He was appointed, in 1792, one of the Major Generals of the French Armies, and vainly endeavoured to save the king. His exertions in the cause of humanity pro- cured his denunciation before the bar of the assembly, A price was set upon his head, and he was compelled to fly from France. But he was taken by the Aus- trians, and confined in the castle of Olmutz, until Au- gust 25, 1797, when he was released. Lafayette op- posed the usurpation of Napoleon, whose conciliatory offers he refused without a single exception. In Au* gust, 1824, Lafayette landed at New York, and passed triumphantly through each of the states, and was re- ceived everywhere with every demonstration of delight. The war-worn veterans of the revolution hailed his re- turn to the scenes of his earliest exploits, and there was not one dissentient voice in the acclamations which welcomed him. September 7, 1825, the frigate Brandywine restored him to his country. In the De- cember following, congress granted him two hundred thousand dollars, and a township of land. During the late French revorution, Lafayette was appointed gene-* H'l 9 fl APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 55 ral-in-cbief of the National Guards, an office which he resigned in September. The death of this great man, which took place at Paris on the 21st May, 1834, was duly noticed in France and this country. A political opponent once out of the arena, was to Lafayette no longer anything but a friend ; the circle of those ad- mitted to share his private hospitality was so ample, that it comprised the partisans of nearly every doctrine, and almost the natives of every clime ; but no feeling was ever wounded, nor even a prejudice assailed with- in its sacred limits. It was, doubtless, to this admi- rable feature in his private character that he owed much of the affectionate esteem with which every party re- garded him, and which turned Paris, frivolous, volatile Paris, into a city of mourning at his death. — Cyclopc dia of History. AV A R R E N . Joseph Warren — a Major General in the American army of the Revolution. He was born in Roxbury, Mass., in 1740, and was a graduate of Harvard college. Directing his attention to medical studies, he in a few years became one of the most eminent physicians in Boston. But he lived at a period when greater acts claimed his attention than those which related particu- larly to his profession. His country needed his efforts, and his zeal and courage would not permit him to shrink \l ' \ m ■m ■I h^i I f 56 APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 'I. I .ill'; from any labours or dangers. His eloquence and his ta- lents as a writer were displayed on many occasions from the year in which the stamp act was passed to the com- mencement of the war. He was a bold politician. While many were wavering w ith regard to the measures which should be adopted, he contended that every kind of taxation, whether external or internal, was tyranny, and ought immediately to be resisted ; and he believed that America was able to withstand any force that could be sent against her. From the year 1768, he was a principal member of a secret meeting or caucus in Bos* ton, which had great influence on the concerns of the country. With all his boldness, and decision, and zeal, he was circumspect and wise. In this assembly the plans of defence were matured. After the destruction of the tea, it was no longer kept secret. He was twice chosen the public orator of the town, on the anniver- sary of the massacre, and his orations breathe the ener- gy of a great and daring mind. It was he, who, on th© evening before the battle df Lexington, obtained infor- mation of the intended expedition against Concord, and at ten o'clock at night despatched an express to Messrs. Hancock and Adams, who were at Lexington, to warn them of their danger. He, himself, on the next day, the memorable 19th of April, was very active. It is said in General Heath's memoirs, that a ball took off h ) :) I. v\ APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 57 ^ part of his earlock. In the confused state of the army, which soon assembled at Cambridge, he had vast in* fluence in preserving order among the troops. After the departure of Hancock to congress, he was chosen president of the provincial congress, in his place. Four days previously to the battle of Bunker's, or Breed's Hill, he received his commission of major general. When the intrenchments were made upon the fated spot, to encourage the men within the lines, he went down from Cambridge and joined them as a volunteer on the eventful day of the battle, June 17. Just as the retreat commenced, a ball struck him in the head, *^ ' ^ and he died in the trenches. It is said that while en- gaged in an attempt to sustain the men in the lines, a British officer recognised hini and shot him. He was the first victim of rank that fell in the struggle with Great Britain for American Liberty. — American Biogra^ phy, DE KALB. Baron de Kalb — a Major General in the American army of the Revolution. He was a German by birth, and had long been in the French service. In the bat- tle near Camden, August 16, 1780, he fell after recei- ving eleven wounds in his vigorous exertions to pre- vent the defeat of the Americans. It is stated by some historians, that De Kalb was opposed to the encounter m I I, 58 APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. i^ ^ ■ ! - in which he fell being entered upon at the time, upon the ground of a probability of defeat, for which he was taunted with the intimation of a want of courage by General Gates, who was chief in command, and who was then desirous to engage the enemy. Indignant at this, dismounting from his horse, he said to General Gates — '* Well, Sir, we shall see who^has courage," and marched at the head of his division on foot. He died on the 19th of August, in the forty-eighth year of his age, having served three years with high reputation. His life is generally considered as having been sacrificed. His last moments were spent in dictating a letter, which expressed his warm affection for the men and officers of his division, and his admiration of their firmness and courage in withstanding' a superior force. An orna- mental tree was planted at the head of his grave in the neighbourhood of Camden, and congress resolved that a monument should be erected to his memory at Annapo? lis, with a very honourable inscription. — American Bio-^ graphy. PULASKI. Count Pulaski — a Brigadier General in the Ame-« rican army of the Revolution. He was a Polander of high birth, who, with a few men, in 1771, carried off King Stanislaus from the middle of his capital, though gurrounded by a numerous body of guards and a Prus^ API»END1X TO tHE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 59 I sian army. The king soon escaped, and declared Pulaski an outlaw. After his arrival in this country, he offered his services to congress, and was honoured with the rank of Brigadier General. He discovered the greatest intrepidity in an engagement with a party of the British near Charleston, in May, 1779. In the assault upon Savannah, October 9, by General Lincoln and Count D*Estaing> Pulaski was wounded at the head of two hundred horsemen, as he was galloping into the town with the intention of charging on the rear. He died on the 11th, and congress resolved that a monu- ment should be erected to his memory. — American Biography. MORGAN. Daniel Morgan — a Brigadier General in the Ame*- rican army of the Revolution. He was born in New Jersey, and removed to Virginia in 1775. He enlisted in Braddock's expedition as a private soldier, and, on the defeat of that general, returned to his occupation as a farmer. At the commencement of the revolution he Was appointed to the command of a troop of horse, and joined the army under Washington, then in the neigh- bourhood of Boston. He distinguished himself very much in the expedition against Quebec, where he fell into the hands of the enemy. On the exchange of pri- ioners, he rejoined the American army, was appointed •I Wli " >; pr If ftv. m m 60 APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT- II ' H 1, ■-I- i to the command of a select rifle corps, and detached to assist General Gates on the northern frontier, where he contributed materially to the capture of General Bur* goyne. After a short retirement from service, on ac- count of ill health, he was appointed Brigadier General by brevet, and commanded the force by which Tarlton was routed at the battle of Cowpens. He soon after resigned his commission. In 1794, he commanded the militia of Virginia, called out to suppress the insurrec- tion of Pennsylvania, and continued in the service till 1795. He afterward was elected to a seat in congress* He died in 1 799. — American Biography. A writer of American history says — " The year on which we now enter (1781 ,) decided the important con* test which engaged the attention of Europe, and of all the civilized world, in favour of liberty, and we must add of justice. The boon of independence was not, however, gained without adding to the long list of widows and orphans, nor without augmenting the cata- logue of cruelties more horrible than those of the Indian tribes, because perpetrated by those who had no accu- mulated antipathy of ages to palliate their hostility, but who only yesterday were friends and brothers. The inhabitants of the Carolinas endured calamity and dis- tress from which humanity revolts. About equally divided in political sentiments, village was opposed to L \ y i APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 61 -1 ' ' 'I '4 3d to re he Bur- Q ac- neral .rlton after jdthe irrec* ;e till gress> jar on con* of all must s not, list of e cata- Indian ) accu- Lty, but The ,nd dis- equally osed to f. \ village, and neighbour to neighbour, and then hostility became embittered by attack and reprisal, until pillage, burning, and murder became familiar to all. Each party aimed at the extirpation of the other, and the whole country presented a scene of slaughter and blood. The American generals seized every occasion to dis- countenance such vindictive and barbarous conduct, while, with few exceptions, the British permitted, and even accelerated their perpetration. The reduction of Savannah and Charleston had en- couraged the British to a viororous invasion of North Carolina. The whole army of General Greene, which had, at the close of the last year, advanced from Hills- borough to Charlottetown, consisted of about two thou- sand men, more than half of whom were militia. With this inconsiderable force, miserably provided. Gene- ral Greene took the field against a superior regular force, which had already marched in triumph two hun- dred miles from the point of its embarkation. Soon after General Greene took the command, he divided his force, and sent General Morgan with a respectable de- tachment to the western extremity of South Carolina, where the tories were destroying the whigs without mercy and without restraint, and marched with the main body to Hick's Creek, on the north side of the Pedee. On the entrance of General Morgan into the district of J I'l .ti %. li'r f W' I •h ill 11 i n^j % I : . u It ' • ; 62 AITKNDIX TO THK TAPTIVE PATRIOT* j^f Ninety-six, Lord Comwallis, who was preparing (ot tho invasion of North Carolina, that he might not leave an enemy in his rear, ordered Colonel Tarlton to pro- ceed with about eleven hundred men, and drive him from his position. Tarlton had two field pieces, and a superiority both of infantry and cavalry. With these advantages ho engaged Morgan at the Cowpens, near Pacolet River, on the 1 7th of January. The British, led to the attack by Tarlton himself, advanced with a shout, and poured in an incessant fire of musketry. The American militia, though they received the charge with firmness, were soon compelled to fall back in rear of their second line ; and this line, in its turn, after an obstinate conflict, was compelled to retreat to the caval* ry. At this juncture, Lieutenant Colonel Washington made a successful charge on Captain Oglevie, who, with about forty dragoons, was cutting down the re* treating malitia ; Lieutenant Colonel Howard almost at the same moment rallied the continental troops, and charged with fixed bayonet, and the militia instantly followed the example. By these sudden and unexpect- ed charges, the British, who had considered the fate of the day decided, were thrown into confusion, and driven from the ground with great slaughter. Upward of three hundred of the British were killed or wounded, and above five hundred taken prisoners, eight hundred I ig for leave pro- e him and a these , near British, with a sketry. charge in rear ifter an 3 caval* hington B, who, the re* Imost at )ps, and nstantly lexpect- e fate of d driven of three led, and hundred I APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 63 muskets, two field pieces, two standards, thirty-fivo baggage wagons, and one hundred dragoon horses fell into the hands of the conquerors. Of the Americans, twelve men only were killed, and sixty wounded. Congress, in honour of the good conduct of General Morgan, presented him a gold medal." H A Y N E . Isaac Hayne — a native of South Carolini. He distinguished himself by his services during ^he F^evolu- tion. After the capture of Charleston, he took an o i.h of allegiance to Great Britain, with the express stirila- tion that he should not bear arms against hi » . ountry. When, in violation of British promises, he was sum- moned to join the British standard, he refused, and was in consequence condemned by a court of inquiry, and hanged on the 4th of August, 1781. — Cyclopedia of History. ALLEN. Ethan Allen — a Brigadier Ge^ oral in the Ameri- can army of the Revolution. He was born at Salisbury, Connecticut, and while he was young, he emigrated with his parents to Vermont. At the commencement of the disturbances in this territory, about the year 1 770, he took a most active part in favour of the Green Mountain Boys, as the settlers were then called, in opposition to the government of New York. An act of ii-l I iR I I' ^. I A. ''^i fO-A V I 64 APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. i\ Mi H I )- I: outlawry was passed against him by this state, (then province,) and 500 guineas were offered for his appre- hension ; but his party was too numerous and faithful to permit him to be disturbed by an apprehension for his safety ; in all the struggles of the day he was suc- cessful ; and he not only proved a valuable friend of those whose cause he had espoused, but he was humane and generous toward those with whom he had to con- tend. When called to take the field, he showed him- self an able leader and an intrepid soldier. The news of the battle of Lexington determined Colonel Allen to engage on the side of his country, and inspired him with the desire of demonstrating his attach- ment to liberty by some bold exploit. While his mind was in this state, a plan for taking Ticonderoga and Crown Point by surprise, which was formed by several gentlemen in Connecticut, was communicated to him, and he readily engaged in the project. Receiving di- rections from the general assembly of Connecticut to raise the Green Mountain Boys, and conduct the enter- prise, he collected two hundred and thirty of the hardy settlers, and proceeded to Castleton. Here he was un- expectedly joined by Colonel Arnold, who had been commissioned by the Massachusetts committee to raise four hundred men, and effect the same object, which was now about to be accomplished. As he had not I ■'^'i Ir APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 65 (then ippre- aithful on for s suc- 3nd of umane o con* d him- rmined ry, and attach- s mind m and several o him, ing di- icut to enter- hardy ^as un- d been o raise which lad not iVxi ir % raised the men he was admitted to act as an assistant to Colonel Allen. They reached the lake opposite Ti- conderoga on the evening of the 9th of May, 1775. With the utmost difficulty boats were procured, and eighty-three men were landed near the garrison. The approach of day rendering it dangerous to wait for the rear, it was determined immediately to proceed. Colo- nel Allen then addressed his men, representing that they had been for a number of years a scourge to arbi- trary power, and famed for their valour, and concluded with saying, " I propose to advance before you, and in person conduct you through the wicket gate, and you that will go with me voluntarily in this desperate at- tempt, poise your firelocks." At the head of the centre file he marched instantly to the gate, where a sentry snapped his gun at him and retreated through the co- vered way ; he pressed forward into the fort, and form- ed his men on the parade in such a manner as to face two opposite barracks. Three huzzas awaked the gar- rison. A sentry who asked quarters pointed out the apartments of the commanding officer ; and Allen with a drawn sword over the head of Captain De la Place, who was undressed, demanded the surrender of the fort. " By what authority do you demand it ?" inquired the astonished commander. " I demand it," said Allen, ♦* in the name of the Great Jehovah and of the Conti- FJ3 ii' in a '\ ,':! \l !< ; • ■ 1 t! v- !''! ij .1 m 6e APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. i A :k r-'f nental Congress." The summons could not be diso- beyed, and the fort with its very valuable stores and forty-nine prisoners was immediately surrendered. Crown Point was taken the same day, and the capture of a sloop of war, soon afterward, made Allen and his brave party complete masters of Lake Champlain. In the fall of 1775, he was sent twice into Canada to observe the dispositions of the people, and attach them, if possible, to the American cause. During his last tour Colonel Brown met him, and proposed an attack upon Montreal in concert. The proposal was eagerly embraced, and Colonel Allen, with one hundred and ten men, near eighty of whom were Canadians, cross- ed the river in the night of September 24. In the morning he waited with impatience for the signal from Colonel Brown, wha agreed to co-operate with him ; but he waited in vain. He made a resolute defence against an attack of five hundred men, and it was not till his own party was reduced by desertions to the num- ber of thirty-one, and he had retreated near a mile, that he surrendered. He was now kept for some time in irons, and treated with great cruelty. He was sent to England as a pri- soner, being assured that the halter would be the re- ward of his rebellion when he arrived there. After hi& arrival, about the middle of December, he was lodged « I .1 APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 67 h diso- js and dered. japture nd his 1. ad a to them, is last aiiaci^ agerly id and cross- [n the il from L him ; efence ^as not 3 num- ie, that reated a pri- he re- ter his- lodged *J for a short time in Pendennis castle, near Falmouth. On the 8th of January, 1776, he was put on board a frigate, and by a circuitous route carried to Halifax* Here he remained confined in the jail from June to Oc- tober, when he was removed to New York. During the passage to this place, Captain Burke, a daring pri- soner, proposed to kill the British captain and seize the frigate ; but Colonel Allen refused to engage in the plot, ard was probably the means of preserving the life of Captain Smith, who had treated him very politely. He was kept at New York about a year and a half, some- times imprisoned, and sometimes permitted to be on parole. While here he had an opportunity to observe the inhuman manner in which the American prisoners were treated. In one of the churches, in which they were crowded, he saw seven lying dead at one time, and others biting pieces of chips from hunger. He cal- culated, that of the prisoners taken at Long Island and Fort Washington, near 2000 perished by hunger and cold, or inconvenience of diseases occasioned by the impurity of their prisons. Colonel Allen was exchanged for Colonel Campbell, May 6th, 1778, and after having repaired to head- quarters, and offered his services to General Washing- ton, in case his health should be restored, he returned to Vermont. His arrival on the evening of the last of ! , . ■ I )(' ; m Fr 11 .1 , ;' I' Ml: • lift ■-*! ^■,^ m 'a I , I' I /' 68 APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. May gave his friends great joy — and it was announced by the discharge of cannon. As an expression of con- fidence in his patriotism and military talents, he was very soon appointed to the command of the state militia. He died suddenly at his estate in Colchester, February 13, 1789, — American Biography. GREEKS AND GREECE. The hardy struggle of the Greeks for political exist- ence — and the sufferings of Greece while under the despotism of Turkey, are too well known to require any detailed account in order to be understood. TRENCK. Francis, Baron De Trenck — a Prusian noble- man, who by some of his acts drew upon him the dis- pleasure of his government, and was imprisoned. After a long captivity he escaped, and published his memoirs, which contain a curious account of his adventures and sufferings. He came to France during the revolution, was arrested as a suspected person, and by the revo- lutionary tribunal sentenced to the guillotine. He suf- fered in the summer of 1794, aged 75. — Lempicr. BARNEVELDT. John d'Olden Barneveldt — A statesman of great abilities — Ambassador from Holland to Elizabeth in En^nd, and to Henry IV. of France. His attempts to limit the authority of Maurice, the second Stadtholder o V s I M i APPENDIX TO THE CAPTIVE PATRIOT. 69 mnced )f con- le was nilitia. bruary exist- er the re any of Holland, raised him enemies, by whose virulence he was accused of designs to deliver the country to the Spaniards, and in consequence of this false charge, he was tried and beheaded in 1619. His sons, William and Rene, resented the cruelty exercised against their father, and though the elder escaped, Rene felt the punishment due to a conspirator. The mother stepped in defence of her son, and when Maurice expressed surprise to see her eager to save him, when she had seen his father fall imlamented, she indignantly replied, " I would not solicit a pardon for my husband, for he was innocent, I ask it for my son, for he is guilty." — Lempier, •w : ^1 m (1 noble- le dis- Afler moirs, 3s and ution, revo- e suf- m r-ii m : 'i • i •! great th in empts tolder m * !.l I 'i 11 WOMAN. But a woman among all these have I not found. ECCL. CHAP. YII. V. 2B. I. Woman ! whatever thy rank ar station^ Thou art the mystery of life ; The pride and jest of ev'ry nation — ► Whether the widow, maid, or wife ; Loving and loved — ^thy heart is won ; Peceiving and deceived — luidone. Thy mind we'd know : a vane we see ! Who scans the abyss of ocean ? There 's nought a more uncertainty — 'Tis but a dubious notion. The wise man told his thousand through. And never found one woman true. III. Sister of pride — companion of our woes ? How false thy vows of love to all ? They're melted sooner than the autumn snows. Like a bright flake they move and fall : Yet, all pursue the glittering prize — could we win, and not despig;e I ¥ WOMAN. VI IV. Awake revenge in woman's hearty What power can then deliver ? So sure tKe blow — with poisonous dart, The offending wretch must shiver ! Nor stays her hand the shaft to fling, Though it came back herself to stingy V. When her brightest hopes with joy are crown' J» From a soft, melting eye we see. Sweet smiles of peace, shed on all around— A very saint she se^ms to be ; But be her state of bliss deranged, At once into a fiend she's changed ! To share his toil, to man was given ; A being — fair as from above : When breathes her roice the tones of Heavetti Woman's the pledge of hope and love ; But with her spirit tum'd to evil, Then-^she's nature's very devil ! i II it I- i- ft •}l iS" Vl'. m 1-.. j| !.'"■ • r I yp. i| K 'I I , .'fl it WOMAN'S SMILE. I. To shade or cliff to tune the lyre, The bards may from the world retire, And hail the rosy dawn ; Behold the sunbeam's glitt'ring rays From eastern sky — with eager gaze — On dewdrops o'er the lawn. II. Let minstrels chant in hours of night, To lucent moonbeams, soft and bright. Their loves — their hopes and fears Let pampered fools the snow path tread. With dappled steed, and gilded sled — And bid for smiles — and tears. IIL No morning sunbeam's russet glow, Nor silver moonlit paths of snow, Shall e'er my heart beguile : My ever source of joy and love. The richest gift from heaven above — 'TiS LOVELY woman's SMILE. i ^4«L'>' THE PATRON OF BUBBLE PORT; OR, THE PEDLER AND THE FLAX. i ;■ Once travelling by stage coach, on the evening of a cold winter's day, I was put down at an inn in the vil- lage of Bubble Port ; where, by one of my fellow-travel- lers, I was introduced to General Jobson, the patron of the village, as he was called, whose manner was that of a pompous, swaggering and bustling fellow. " But, where is Bubble Port ?" A Gernian Prince, (Muskau,) in his Letters on Eng- land and Ireland, says, " that at B— ^, in the west of Ire- land, in a company of twenty persons, nobody knew that any such place as Carlsbad and Prague existed ; and the information that they were situated in Bo- hemia did not niuch mend the matter — -Bohemia being not less unknown." Now, then, gentle reader, if you be not of the class of these twenty Irishmen ; or, as ig- norant of geography as a country squire, of which Prince Muskau tells, " as having searched long and patiently in a map of Europe for the United States,'* and will be (■' ;¥: m 74 THE PATRON OF BUBBLE PORT ,' \mgii Wi- ll 11 It.! h I pleased to spread before you a modern map of the Pe- ninsula of Michigan, you may, without difficulty, find the location of this identical Bubble Port. Like Brussels, in Belgium, Bubble Port stands upon a gentle eminence, with gentle waters, (and raging ones too,) flowing round it ; but in its origin, it is most un- like the European city I have named. Of Brussels, it is related, the beginning was in this wise : St. Gery, a bishop of Cambray, erected a small chapel on the banks of the Senne, which flows into the Scheldt, and there preached the gospel to the surrounding peasantry. The beauty of the situation, and the piety and eloquence of the preacher, attracted many to the spot j and their united numbers soon formed a large village, which in time be- came a grand city, that has been called " the ornament of the Netherlands." Not so with Bubble Port — ^but as my story tells. The patron of Bubble Port was believed to be a stranger to me. However, after a few moments' inter- view with him, I became satisfied I had known the in- dividual before. There once lived in the village of C , situated m one of the interior counties of the state of New York, one Moses Miller, who was extensively engaged in the manufacture of tin ware ; and by his dealings in that article, and Yankee notions, he had raised himself S4^\_^}i cm, THE PEDLER AND THE FLAX. 75 iie Pe- find the Is upon ig ones lost un- jsels, it Grcry, a ; banks d there . The gnce of united me be- lament -but as ) be a inter- he in- ted in York, in the n that imself from little to considerable wealth, and some considera- tion. This Miller disposed of the commodities of his manu- facture principally to pedlers, by the wholesale — from whom he generally received in return, as part payment for his wares, such articles as they, the pedlers, picked up in their trafficking excursions through the country, which usually consisted of coarse furs , tallow, beeswax, feathers, l M 78 THE PATRON OF BUBBLE PORT ; '.f r. the article he had first proposed to deliver, or that he had stated to have had in his possession, or within his attainment, Miller's suspicions fell upon honest Job Jobson, though reluctantly so. In ruminating the mat- ter in his mind, the thought struck him that it might be possible Jobson was intending to sell him a parcel of his own flax ; and therefore, in order to ascertain the justness of his suspicions, and to detect, if possible, the author of the vjllany. Miller resolved to keep a look-out on his property for a few nights. The door, which constituted the only entrance to tne apartment in the loft in which Miller had stored his flax, (and which was kept fastened only by a common padlock, that might be loosed with almost any key be- longing to that description of locks,) opened from a corner upon the side of the room toward the interior of the shed, and was ascended to by a flight of roughly constructed stairs, standing in a kind of tumble-down manner at the corner, and fastened to the wall of the shed. Under this staircase, at an early hour on the next evening. Miller took his station. The first part of the night was dark and stormy, and the rain fell fast, and in heavy drops ; but twelve o'clock came and passed, and no one had made an ap- pearance to disturb Miller's property. He, however, continued on his post until near two o'clock in the i i -i lat he within 3st Job le mat- ight be reel of ill the )le, the Dok-oiit I to trie ed his Dmmon tey be- from a erior of oughly 3 -down of the on the ry, and twelve an ap^ )wever, in the i OR, THE PEDLER AND THE FLAX. 79 and morning, like a soldier tenanted in his sentry box, was then on the point of relieving himself, and to retire, when some one was heard cautiously approaching, and Miller drew himself close and quiet within his hiding place. It was still hazy, although it had ceased to rain, and the clouds had so thinned and lighted up that a person might readily be discovered at a short distance, out of doors ; and even within the shed, which was open to the weather on one side, the form of an individual could be perceived. A few moments after the sound of footsteps had been heard by Miller, a person entered the shed, ascended the stairs to the door of the room in the loft containing the flax, unlocked the door and entered ; and in a few minutes returned, relocked the door, and descended the stairs with a bundle of flax upon his shoulder, which he had taken from Miller's store-room. As the fellow arrived at the foot of the staircase with his bundle of flax, he stumbled ; then, as he recovered himself. Miller stepped from behind the stairs, where he had stood secreted, and igniting a loco foco match, which he had prepared for the purpose, thrust it into the flax, and then instantly sprang back to his hiding place. The fellow replaced the bundle of flax upon his shoulder, and hurriedly passed out of the shed. After he had gained a little distance from the shed, :!?•■ ■('■ ? ' I L pi ■ ■ , . 11 ! Ii k \l if 1! I. I !f} 80 THE PATRON OF BUBBLE PORT ; Miller came out and followed, in order to witness the result of the matter, as well as for the purpose of per- fectly satisfying himself of the identity of the individual who had been thus feloniously interfering with his property. At first the match did but little, and there were some doubts in Miller's mind of its accomplishing the object ; but before the flax had been carried any considerable distance from the shed, it burned out brightly ! At the first glitter of the light, being ignorant of the cause, and supposing it to proceed from a lantern borne by some person approaching, it only occasioned the fellow with the flax to quicken his pace, which he con- tinued to do as the light increased, until he was moving upon a run. But, as the increased velocity, with which the flax was borne, only occasioned it to burn the more, so, while he supposed he was running from the light, the more it blazed around him. At length he became aware his bundle was on fire, threw it down, and re- coiled from it with aflright. He stood for a moment, and looked upon the blazing flax with a countenance de- picting as much horror and dismay as may be supposed to have been felt by the Sodomites when they beheld their city m flames, and then fled and left his bundle burning on the ground ; but not until Miller, who had kept himself undiscovered, had had an opportunity dis* ti fl c< 01 fd X 1 1 I OR, THE PEDLF.R AND THE FLAX. 81 ^ 1% ■I tinctly to see that the fellow who had been taking his flax, was no other than honest Job Jobson. Having so far effected his object, as to ascertain, to a certainty, who it was that had been stealing his property, Miller retired to his room and his bed, and did not rise on that day until a late hour. On going into his shop, he found Jobson there, where he, (Jobson,) had been waiting since an early hour in the morning, with a countenance exhibiting great de* jection and sorrow. " Oh !" said Miller, on entering his shop, " how are you, Mr. Jobson ? or honest Job Jobson, as I believe you are now called." ** I wish to speak with you alone, sir," said Jobson. " You have been very successful in collecting flax this spring," said Miller. " I wish to see yeu i'i your counting-room ?" said Jobson. *' Have you brought me the remaining quantity of flax you promised to deliver this spring ?" asked Miller. *' Can I see you alone, sir ?" asked Jobson. *' T desire to have delivered all the flax you intend to let me have this spring, before I start for the east, which I shall do m a few days," said Miller. ^' Can I see you alone, sir, in your counting-room for ii^ i\ 4 82 THE PATRON OF BUBBLE PORT ', P -ti' J!' I i\ t a few minutes ?" asked Jobson, with increased and ap- parent earnestness. '' Oh ! ah ! yes," said Miller, " walk in, sir," and Jobson followed him into the counting-room of his tin shop — when the door being closed, Jobson in a very dejected and sorrowful manner, informed Miller *' he wished to make to him a confidential communica- tion." " Well," said Miller, " go on." " Then, I — I— to tell you the truth, Mr. Miller," said Jobson, " I have no more flax to let you have this spring." " Why, how does it so happen ?" inquired Miller. u i__i — Mr. Miller — I must tell you the truth. The last parcel of flax I let you have was some of your own property !" *' Ah ! how was that ?" inquired Miller, appearing to be greatly astonished. *' Why !" said Jobson, " when you removed your flax to the loft in the shed, it suggested itself to me that I could take enough of it, (having a key in my possession which would readily unlock the padlock upon the door,) to pay the balance of your account against me, without its being known or suspected by you," '< But, what did you do ?" f ( I I ..ti:' V, !l I and ap- r," and of his on in a I Miller munica- er," said ave this [iller. 1. The our own >aring to ^oiir flax e that I session e door,) without I • I OKi THE TEDLER AND THE FLAX. 83f " What did I do !" said Jobson ; " on thenext dark night that occurred, I went to your store-room in th<3 loft of the shed and took away a large parcel of flax, which on the day following I brought here and sold to you ; and at the same lime gave you a promise to bring you a farther quantity, which I then stated to have in my possession. That, however, was not the fact, as it was my intention to get it from your store" room. ?j " Then you have been taking more of my flax," said Miller. '* Hear me," replied Jobson. " I did go again to your store-room, and I brought away another parcel of your' flax, but on taking it home, ?,nd weighing it, I found the quantity I had got would not amount to suflicient to satisfy your demand against me." " What then ?" interrupted Miller. " I — I — went to your store-room again last night," continued Jobson, trembling and faltering in speech^ *'and attempted to bring away another parceL" " Well ! and you succeeded," said Miller. ** I did not," replied Jobson, appearing extremely hor- ror stricken, '' as it was against the laws of God that I should do so." " And against the laws of man too," said Miller. But how was the matter?" t\ ! r ■ " i' I ill 1,1 V p}''\ R'l 1 ^ i-iii. '. !i; ; 'i S4 THE PATHOJN Ul- BUiJ15L£ I'UK't ; !|i .;l ■it »f v/:< .1 ;'i I ' *' I shall tell you all," replied Jobson. " Last night, after I had taken a bundle of flax from your store-room, I started with it upon my bacj: for home, bttt the ven' geance of the Lord overtook me hy the way, andjire came down from heaven and burned it up /" " This is a very extraordinary affair," replied Miller. That thp transaction was a very extraordinary affair, honest Job Jobson then believed ; and his proposition yy-'^ to -jiake immediate restitution to Miller for the dtmrtge ho had done him, upon condition that the mat- tei shcu/J not be made public. iviilie. agreed to keep the affair, which Jobson sup- posed he had been the first to communicate, a secret, in tonsidtration of being restituted according to the Mo- saic law ; and Jobson paid Miller double for the flax he had stolen. Nevertheless, after Miller had got his pay — the story came out. Some sp.id it was Jobson, himself, who had occasioned its disclosure, by attempting to fathom the trick which had been played upon him ; and others as- serted that Miller had tolJ it as a story too good to keep. How it was, I know not. But the result of the matter then was, that Miller declined having any far- ther dealings with Jobson — and Jobson found himself out of business, without the means of getting in again ; and the report of the transaction having made the at- VT it night, e-rooni, he ven' re came Miller. J affair, position for the the mat- ion sup- iscret, in the Mo- the flax le storv ^ho had lom the Ihers as- good to lit of the |any far- himself again ; the at- t OR, THE PEDLER AND THE FLAX. 85 hiosphere of C — , too affected for his longer residence there, honest Job Jobson settled up his affairs in that place, and with about six hundred dollars in his pocket, emigrated to the west, where he chanced to be dropped down on the site of Bubble Port. The spot was then covered with a primeval forest ; but the discernment of the ex-pedler pointed it out to him as a place for a speculation ; he purchased as much of the land as his six hundred dollars would pay for — a portion of which he immediately converted into a city, (a paper city,) by causing it to be surveyed and staked off into building lots and streets. The streets Were designated Main, Pearl, Washington, &c. and the whole was then exemplified and shown off upon a large sheet of lithographic printing, and the lots of- fered for sale : and there being a great many men in th ^ountry who were not ex-pedlers, the lots met with a ready sale, and the village grew apace ; while ho- nest Job Jobson, that was, grew in riches — and then to be captain, major, colonel, and general — and General Jobson is now the acknowledged patron of Bubble Port, H Hi, i IJ 'I f ':^ m > u. •• uy 1; ;'i i^*' 'X-M-Jf. I ( i II li- I I' ADDRESS TO A LINNET, PERCHED AT MY CASEMENT. Written while imprisoned at Toronto, U. 0. Come, gentle warbler, with me stay, And here thy notes prolong — There's Freedom's spirit in thy lay, And rapture in thy song. Give to my ear those strains of thine-— Then let oppression rage ! No trembling heart shall e'er be mine, Though I've Bajazet's cage ! Thou may'st have sung on Chillon's walls, And perched on Olmutz's towers, Or hailed the morn near Ham's dark halls, Where fate as sternly lowers. But scorn not here to swell thy throat- Wake the " imprisoned free,'* And be thy theme — thy chosen note, UNCONQUtRBD LiBIRTY ? I ! Y bajazet's cage. Though bars may now prescribe my lot, And bolts confine me here — Here is a consecrated spot : IVe bathed it with a tear. And though the tyrant's iron hands, (For such I deem they be,) Now bind me with the slave's base bands, In spirit still Fm free. Fear not to rest thee near my grate ; Believe me not unkind ; But call thee, now, thy downy mate, And here a dwelling find. Then, as each morning's early glow, Shall bid thy music wake- — With thee, to God, my heart shall bow, An orison to make. 87 BAJAZET'S CAGE. The manner in which I was shown off through the Canadas, while held a prisoner by the British govern- ment, makes the expression more than a mere allusion. Bajazet I. Emperor of Turkey, succeeded his father, Amurat L 1389. He conquered, with unusual I :4 ]i f M t 1 I'l; ."it 88 BAJAZETS CAGB. rapidity, the provinces of Bulgaria, Macedonia, and Thessaly ; and after he had made the Emperor of Con- stantinople tributary to his power, and defeated the army of Sigismund, King of Hungary, 1396, he marched to at- tack Tamerlane, in the east, whom he treated with such contempt, that he caused his ambassadors to be shaved in derision. He was, however, totally defeated near Angoury, 1402, and taken prisoner ; and when the proud conqueror asked him what he would have done with him if he had obtained the victory, Bajazet answered, " I would have confined you in an iron cage." " Such then shall be thy fate," rejoined Tamerlane. In hjs cage, Bajazet behaved with his native fierceness, ex- pecting that his sons would rescue him ; but when he was disappointed, he dashed his head against the bars of his cage, and died, 1403, at Antioch in Pisidia.-^ Lempier. Chillon. — The prison of Bonnivard. Olmutz. — A prison of Austria, in which the Marquis de la Fayette was for several years confined. Ham. — A prison of France, in which the ex-ministers of Charles X. were confined. ^ ,, I .'..^ ill' CHRISTMAS HYMN. I. Father of light, who reigiis above, Eternal monarch of the skic , This day — for thy unbounded love, From every heart let incense rise : For thou hast given the means of grace, To all of our attainted race. II. We, from the justice of thy wrath, Were driven forth in sin to toil. And tread transgression's rugged path, Till mingled with the kindred soil : When lo, we've had a Saviour given, On whom we build a hope of Heaven, III. Death's darkest wing, swept o'er the land, And man was sunk in guilt and shame, When Jesus with a bleeding hand A mediating spirit came : His life a sacrifice he gave, A vile OiTending world to save. H2 »■* Tir I 1. 1 f*.«r. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // />^.^^5^ % I 1.0 1^128 |2.5 |50 ^^~ ■■■ K* 1^ 12.2 1.1 l.-^ia L25 in 1.4 1.6 Hiotographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 873-4503 #^ iV iV \\ EV ^y% «■ ^'^ V o^ A ^ \ ^ f i i ii i; i> > i 90 CHRISTMAS HYMN. IV. Then let us turn our hearts to God- Be willing every knee to bend ; And thus escape the aven^ng rod- No more stern justice to offend ; And with united voices raise To God the glory and the praise. > r ■' I THE MANIAC GIRL. I jl ' ' I. November's breath was cold and chill, And ice o'er every pond and rill Fast bound the bubbling tide ; Drear fell the rain from gathering clouds, And chilled, each one now shiv'ring crowds Around the fireside. II. Unmindful of the patt'ring storm, A stranger maid, of slender form, Approach'd with hasty pace ; Bare was her neck — wild flew each tress ; A haggard eye and wild distress Is seen — where all was grace. III. Wan was her cheek ! It once was flush, And crimsoned o'er with beauty's blush — But now each charm had fled ; Wo was the maid ! no friend was near, A torn distracted heart to cheer. And calm the maniac's head. NVt.-, 92 THE MANIAC GIRL. 1. IV. On all a ghastly stare she threw, As if each stranger face she knew ; But no one knew the maid ! From her wild tongue no tidings fell, From whence — from whore, no one could tell, The maniac had strayed. i ■ i\ ODE FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY. Written for, and sung at a celebration in 1831. I ' ► ' I. Freemen, arise ! j^nd ]et each heart rejoice ; Sing the glad song aloud with every voice, To glory's bright halo on high. Let evVy breath wake freedom's holy lay — Swell the joyful strain — 'tis liberty's day, Our country's loved " fourth of July." IT. Hail to our nation's birth ! that moment blest — We stand alone, the experimental test, Of order, liberty, and law : All equal here, with peace and plenty crowned ; Our monarch, God — our throne, the fields around, From which no regal power can draw. III. Praise be to Him ! whose outstretch'd arm and hand, Drove tyrants far from freedom's chosen land — The new asylum of the world ; Bade Washington stand forth in armour bright, To guard the emblem of the realms of light — • The flag our fathers had unfurl'd, ; 1 V i: m .'It: iim i, 1, ' 1 V.I, •I 'I, \h'. 11 I I ^ 94 ODB FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY. IV. H^il, Lafayette ! the good, the great, and wise ; For thee, let pealing anthems shake the skies, And long the changing echoes ring. Give praise once more — strike loud the heav'nly lyre, Awake each breast with patriotic fire, And God's eternal praises sing. I yre, TO MY ACHING TOOTH. Written while imprisoned in the Citadel of Quebcfc. I. Oh ! bane of sleep — my aching tooth- Hast thou no mitigating ruth ? Peccavi — (I have sinn'd) — in sooth— But why decry it ? Our good M.D. did me engage, Bolus camphorce should assuage, And nitric acid tame thy rage — » And make ye quiet. II. But thy tormenting throbs again, Almost distract by burning brain, And now with the acutest pain— My thoughts bewilder. Of opiates, to keep ye still, Non ahstante — yeVe had a fill ; Yet thou defy'st the very skill Of Doctor Guilder. i lip <( ^ 98 to MY ACHING TOOTH. III. Abracadabra ! — Oh thou charm ! I pray this dental curse disarm ; No aconite could bring more harm — When unabated. If ill like this, (though just and pure,) Had'st Satan caused him to endure, That man of Uz, had then most sure- God abnegated. IV. Sine jaco — I have said it, In submission there's no credit, And howe'er thy loss I dread it — ' Peace Fll bring about. If soporifics will not do, I've steel, (not tincture of,) for you— « Obitur dictum — I'll have it true — "Thou art pluck' J right out." DOCTOR GUILDER. This gentleman is surgeon of the Coldstream Guards, (a regf» ment of Her Britannic Majesty's household troops,) stationed in the' Citadel of Quebec, in 1838 and ]839. The doctor is a Waterloo hero, and says *' he can cut off an arm or a leg, and mend a broken head — but cannot pull a tooth." He is nevertheless, a very good fellow, though a little vain, as most men of learning and science arc. A recent traveller in England, in commenting upon the men and manners of the country, says — '* Englishmen are like their flints — cold, angular, and furnished with cutting edges ; but the steel suc- ceeds in striking live sparks out of them, thus producing light by a friendly antagonism." This may be triM. * I H t • rood are. and Its— suc- Iby a A FRAGMENT. I WAS wending my way through a newly settled di»-f trict of one of the western states. My conveyance was a horse and sulky. It was at a season of the year when the roads were much broken up, and I was told that a by-road, (which 1 consented to take as it brought me more direct to the end of my route,) was more toler- able than the main one I had been travelling, and so I found it as to the absence of deep channels of mud and sloughs almost interminable. But, then, the way was hardly entitled to the name of road ; being in some of its parts little more than ' trail or path running zigzag through a primeval forest, much obstructed by fallen limbs and roots of trees and other irregularities ; so that although my horse was in a good condition, high spirit- ed, and would have of his own will wheeled me over the ground at no tardy gait, I found it most for my safety and comfort to keep him reined up to a very moderate pare ; and it was past nine o'clock, (although I had started nt a very earlv hour in the morning on r ' ^i . » : « ! ; •N '111; 98 A FRAGMENT. this road,) before I had brought up at the first public house on the route, which was within a distance of less than six miles. As I came near this stopping place I discovered a small boy, an almost infant, for lie was scarce of five years, trudging along by the way-side toward the village schoolhousc. On my first noticing him I observed that the little fellow had a very spruce appearance. His dress was neat and elegant, and from under a cloth cap, abundant light and shining ringlets flowed upon his neck ; while over his shoulder was slung his satchel, in which he was carrying his books and his luncheon. It was evident he had recognised my approach some time before his presence had been discovered by me, as when my eye first fell upon his form I was very near to him, and he was then in the act of turning toward me to make his salutation, which he did by a very graceful inclination of the head. He stood for a moment on the road side with his face turned full upon me, and beaming with loveliness. I was then much struck with the natural beauty of the child, which was heightened by the eflfect of the exertions he had been making to get along, and the cold breath of the morning. He had an almost seraphic appearance as I thought. As T returned his bow, *' Good morning to you, my little man," said I. )[»*» I' \^ \ A FRAGMKN'T. 99 *' Good morning, sir," was liis reply, and he turned to proceed on his way. I again accosted him, and inquired if he did not find it tiresome walking, and cold. ** Pretty cold, sir," said he, as he puffed against the wind which was blowing, (though not heavily,) in his face. " But my mother says I must go to school, or I can never be a president nor a governor, so I don't care for the cold, nor for being a little tired, if I can go to school." With this answer I felt no little amused, and pro- posed to the boy that he should ride with me to his schoolhouse, the door of which I was to pass : and upon his accepting my offer, I took him in and placed him before me in the sulky. We were then a hundred roods or more from the schoolhouse, but so pleased was I with my young companion, I almost wished it had been thrice the distance, and felt no hurry in getting over it ; and I let my horse make it with the slowest movements. I found my pretty wayfarer had been the subject of much care and drill ; and so intelligent and communicative was he, that although babe like, before I put him down at his schoolhouse, I had learned from him much of the people of the neighbourhood through which I was passing ; and in the few moments* ac- quaintance I had had with him, he so won my affee- :J! • '1 IM .ir 1! ^h i \ ■"• I' •■/ Ji j 1 r ;;; . ■; ■ f '$:• 1 1 r • ■ I'. k I y :iH 100 A FRAOiMENT. tions, I (lid not let him go from me until I had covered his face with repeated kisses. Two days after I was on my return, but wishing to push my way through by an early hour, I made no stop at the village where I had parted with the cherub- faced boy, whose acquaintance I had before made upon the road. Passing the schoolhouse, and gaining the farther distance of a half mile or more, I found that the single way I had been pursuing became divided into two, diverging at so acute an angle, that with my pre- vious carelessness in omitting, as I had done, to notice any object by which I might distinguish the road I had come, I found myself at a loss to determine which was the proper direction for me to pursue. With such an un- certainty of the matter, I could do no more than take the road which seemed most likely to me to be the correct one — which I did, and proceeding on something near another half mile, I found an inhabitant by the way side, of whom I inquired my route, and in answer re- ceived the information that I had taken the wrong branch of the road, and was advised to return to the angle of the way I had passed as the most ready man- ner of getting again upon my proper path, With the information I had thus acquired, I put about my horse in order to retrace the steps I had taken in error of my way ; but before I had return- If A FRAGMENT. 101 ed to the branch of tho, road, which was my proper routo, I discovered a conjTrotration of persons issuing from a new and very handsome wooden dwelling, situated on the road a short distance before me. As 1 drove up the people were forming in the street ; and I discovered it to be a funeral procession — and refraining from any attempt to pass it, I reined up my horse and followed in the rear. The withered corse, be it whose it will, and the ob- sequies of the dead, never fail to awake in my heart an acknowledgment of awe and respectful regard ; and every person of an enlightened and polished mind, or whose understanding has been reduced to any kind of system of thinking, will own that — '* It is a dread and awful thing to die ;" and it is this sentiment which is generally found to create in the bosom of civilized man a feeling of re- spect for the last remains of his fellow-being. AVhen all the acts of the creature are done — when the body has ceased its functions — and when the dust is about to return to the dust as it was, and the spirit unto God who gave it — though the person may have been our worst enemy, the last vestige of his being, and those yites which civilization accords to it, command our re- spect and attention : as when the human form has 12 *! t 1 , , ' 1 f I. i i :\» I * 17 .1 ; 102 A FRAGMENT. 'I «', ceased to be a thing to be loved, there is, or should be, an end of our dislikes. I was called by some pressing business I had to transact, at a distance of some twenty miles or more ahead of me, where it had been my desire to arrive be- fore the day closed, but from having mistaken my road, and the consequent delay to which I had been subject- ed, I became satisfied I should fail to accomplish my object in that matter ; and so I resolved to witness the concluding part of the ceremony of respect, which was then being bestowed upon the last remains of some one of my fellow-creatures. Accordingly, when I came to the dividing of the roads, I dismounted from my sulky, and disposing of my horse by the road side, I joined myself, on foot, with the procession as it was about to enter a recently opened cemetery, in a field at a hundred and fifty rods, or so, distant from the village. It was then, I discovered for the first, that the body about to be interred was that of a child or infant. The weather, though cold, was remarkably pleasant for the season of the year, which was autumn. The sun, which had been obscured during the early part of the day, and which was then sinking in the west, shone out with a pale soft lustre ; while the wind, which had been blustering, though not furiously, for many hours, had then assumed such a determined .1 I' f i j> ; A FRAGMENT. body 103 quietness that a tread or a whisper did not escape the ear, though made among a crowd. The very things of the earth seemed to have prepared a propitious moment for a happy spirit to ascend to the regions of bliss. As the procession arrived at the burying place, the coffin containing the corpse was placed upon a bier, near the grave opened to receive it, and uncovered that the body might be viewed. Among those who had formed the procession, there were but two individuals clothed with the garments of mourning. The one was a man of middle age, and gentlemanlike appearance. The other, a lady, both young and handsome. The two were the parents of the deceased child; and it was their only one. In that land they were recent settlers, and almost, as yet, strangers. They stood beside each other near the box containing all that remained of the sole offspring of their affections, and the object of their united hopes and their cares. The father exhibited a feeling of deep anguish, but no tears. The eyes of the mother were running over. They each kissed the cold lips of the remains of their child. The one did it in silent sorrow, the other melting with grief ; but there was no mad- ness in her actions ; she was calm and perfectly self- possessed ; and while her eyes poured forth a torrent, which she made no effort to suppress, her face was suf- ! : t I ■ • ■ I, I, t m 104 A FRAGMENT. I fused with a refinement of loveliness. It was a pix;tiisre of beauty chastened with grief, and modified with a happy resignation to the will of Providence. As the immediate view and contemplation of a ves- tige of the human kind,^ emaci9.ted by a long sickness, (as I had presumed was the case with the one then be- fore me,) and resting in the arms of death, create no pleasurable feelings in my bosom, I had made no effort^ to near the coffin, and had not beheld the corpse it contained, until 1 was forced on by the press of peo- ple I was among, and in a manner obliged to look upon it. And then — oh ! God — what were my sensations, when I beheld the lifeless form of the little fellow whose acquaintaince I had made on that road a few days before, while he was on his way to his school. There was no withered corse in that coffin. It ap- peared as a being under the influence of sweet and na- tural repose, rather than the sleep of death, h seem- ed as a fallen rosebud cut oft' by an unlucky stroke. The same day 1 had left him at his schoolhouse, on his return he had been taken into a cart, that was dri- ving toward his home, with some others of his mates, from which he fell out — a wheel passed over him, breaking several of his limbs, and a blood vessel^ from which he bled to death in a few minutes — and his pa- rents had never seen him afterward living. i THE COURSE OF EVIL. Ere nature's bloom from chaos woke, And the first ray — soft, beaming, bright. From ether skies, benignant broke, And decked the earth with blushing light. In heaven, the realm of bliss and love. The home of the eternal God, Sin raised its head — then from above Was driven by the avenging rod. In Eden's happy bow'r and shade The serpent stole with wily lies ; Our parent won, and then betrayed : For this, in sin, poor man, he dies. When Nero first the sceptre held. His deeds were mark'd by complaisance ; But, ah ! how soon Rome was compelled To see the tyrant's work advance^ So, Cromwell sought his country's praise. And gained her love by courtly grace ; But, when to power himself would raise, His breast to virtue gave no place^ And as the rose and thorn both grow, By nature twined, on the same tree ; Virtue and vice together flow, Aud in their source ne'er sep'rate be. . '■* III I 1 1 4|i A \i' i. ■< SI I 1 1 • 'i|! m i A SONG OF LOVE. RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO MISS CLARA H '* Dear Clara ! dear Clara ! — 'Tis thy blooming cheek, Where a shade rests enchanting — rosy and meek, That bids me in language my passion to speak, For thee, dearest Clara, with thy blooming cheek. Dear Clara ! dear Clara ! — Tis thy ruby lip. Whose kiss is far sweeter than nectar to sip. That gives me a fondness — ^no tempting shall nip— For thee, dearest Clara, with thy ruby lip. Dear Clara ! dear Clara \ — ^'Tis thy melting eye. More bright and resplendent than heaven's blue sky. That my heart fills with love, and makes me now sigh, For thee, dearest Clara, with thy melting eye. Dear Clara ! dear Clara ! — 'Tis thy heaving breast, Where pillow'd, lie charms more than man ever guessed, Which moves me to barter a hope to be blessed. For thee, dearest Clara, with thy heaving breast. Dear Clara ! dear Clara ! — *Tis thy mellow tone, A voice like the harp's, when the hand's o'er it thrown, My soul has enwrapp'd, and compels me to own. Thy power, dear Clara, with thy mellow tone. 'i iieek, k, k. sky, V sigh, ElSt, uessed, t, thrown, AN INSCRIPTION; Written upon the blank leaf of a Bible presented to me while im- prisoned in the Citadel of Quebec, by Lieut. Colonel Wigram» of the Coldstream Guards. I. Let reason now this book unfold, To me its myst'ries ope ; That I — the words of truth behold Whereon to build a hope : My every doubt, remove, oh Lord ! And make me certain of thy word. II. When Israel's wand'ring tribes were thirst, And all Rephidim dry ; From Horeb's smitten rock tuere burst, A fount for their supply : Then came the murm'ring hosts and drank Of limpid waters from the tank. III. So, while my thoughts by sophists led, O'er fields of science rove ; My way, with fickle steps, I tread — A famished soul I move ; But, give me, Lord, this source to know, From whence Ufe-giving waters flow. '■\\ y: . 1,-, W' m \i..\t. i^k m i^'-^ii M J! I 108 AN INSCRIPTION. IV. Here, let me read these latt^s aright — These statutes understand, And be my heart a tablet bright, Iniscribed with Heaven's command ; And, Lord, confirm my hope, to be A SPIRIT bless'd immortally. -> ,. «. • ", INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH. It is undoubtedly known to the reader, that the Yan- kees of the northern states of America guess at every- thing, while at the south everybody reckons — just as with the English all things are splendid ; and that on account of our guessings and reckonings the foreigners who visit the country are terribly shocked at the peo- ple's vulgarity, and deal out their ridicule in no stinted measure. We have, however, another word in general use among us, the Anglo-Americans, having an univer- sal application and ubiquity of meaning, which puts guessing and reckoning entirely in the back ground ; and it is believed that if all which is splendid should be transferred from England to the United States, it would be lost in the halo of this one word, which has, as yet, entirely escaped the notice of the whole family of foreign fault-finders, up to the present day. It is in the language of the north and in the language of the south. Travel from Georgia to Maine, and from Maine to Michigan, and you shall hear it alike in all places made to stand as adjective to almost every noun, common o^ K n ■■V ■ j ti ■ 1% ill UP'-' ■■'il no INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH, t 4 proper. You will hear it lisped from the sweetest lips that ever carolled " Home, sweet home " — as well as drawled from the tobacco-stained bivalves of the clod- pole, whose whole vocabulary of language does not consist of more than twenty-five words. Still I have not in any instance seen it subjected to the strictures of any of the commentators, who have so severely casti- gated the guessings of the Yankees, and the reckonings of the Southerners. Perhaps it is so, because it is toa pretty a word to be made to wither by the caustic breath of cynical animadversion. I refer to the word pretty — and the manner in which this word is used, (or mis- used,) I will endeavour to illustrate in the relation of an incident. Some five or six years now past, (before the rail-road was made,) I was travelling along the banks of the Mohawk, stowed in the inside of a stage-coach with eight other passengers, just as you will find the seeds in a pomegranate. It was two hours in advance of the sun when the coach sat out on the road ; and having been called from my bed before " tired nature's sweet restorer " had fully performed its office to me, taking little notice of whom or what was around me, I hastened to get into ray seat, and there slept away as if I had been still hugging my pillow. The road was intolera- bly bad,, and our progress had been at a rate of scarcely INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH. Ill 3St lips veil as e clod- es not I have ;ures of Y casti- konings it is toa ; breath PRETTY or mis- ation of ail-road of the eh with e seeds ance of i havinor s sweet , taking lastened if I had intolera- scarcely *> more than two miles to the hour, when the morning spread its broad light around us ; and although this did not much mend our speed, it put us all in a condition for conversation. Up to this time the stage-coach had been as quiet as a box of herring. But, as old Gofithe says, " it is a strange puddle that will not look bright when the sun shines f so we, the occupants of our travelling vehicle, not being mortals of the most strange kind, as soon as the sun began to scatter its gold leaf about, were aroused from our sleep and drowsiness, and brightened into something like evidences of life. The first word that struck my ears was from o, pretty little lady crowded up in a corner of the coach, where she had assumed a shape much like that of a pod of honey locust. " Dear me," said she, " I've a pretty hard seat." " A pretty crowded one," said a gentleman who sat next her. " This is a pretty muddy road," said a gentleman who was before me. ^^ Pretty slow travelling," said another gentleman, with a kind of graveyard voice, {and of whom it had been said he was a deacon,) as he withdrew his head from a survey of the road through one of the windows of the coach. " Yes, and a pretty wearisome time for the horses," it ■IV;' -M 112 INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH. i • 'Vt ■I .'^i t J li • said another of the passengers, who was evidently a horse-dealer. " And, a pretty sweat it has given them," said his companion. Pretty, I thought, was then used up ; but I was mis- taken. There were placed on the forward seat two young ladies direct from the city of New-York ; and who, for the first time in their lives, were then travel- ling in the country. We were at the moment approach- ing the foot of the Big Nose, and on beholding its dark brow frowning over our path, one of the young ladies exclaimed to her companion — " Look, Bell ! isn't that a pretty high mountain ?" " 'Tis, indeed," replied the other j " and what a pretty place for a lover's leap ?" " Really," said I, " we are a pretty set of fellows." " Why, what do you mean by that, sir ?" demanded the individual who had given pretty to the mud. " Oh, nothing," replied I ; " only as everything else is so, I think we too ought to be pretty ^ At this moment our coach wheeled up to the door of the inn at which we were to breakfast, and farther remark was put an end to by our leaving it for the comforts of the snug warm parlour of the public house. It was then proposed by the deacon, who now began to assume something of a dictatorial manner, that tei 1y a his mis- two and avel- aach- dark adies 1" lat a rs." anded else oor of farther or the public LO now er, that INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH. 113 we should all join in a kind of family worship and prayer before breakfasting. To this there was an objection raised by one of the passengers, who seemed to have nothing in his mind's eye, either of this world or tho next, save his breakfast ; and by the two who had noticed our drudging horses, and who were avowed infidels, the measure was openly opposed. But there was no opportunity given for discussion, as the tinlding of a bell announced that breakfast was ready, and the land- lord of the house appeared, to order us to the table ; and his mandate was instantly obeyed by all, and without objection even by the praying gentleman, the deacon. Having taken our breakfast, we were again stowed in the stage-coach, and on the road. It is pretended by some that as the Christian religion is admitted to be essential to the future well-being of our souls, and as its exercises are a part and parcel of its enjoyments and belief, every place is an altar for prayer, and every occasion proper for urging its pre- cepts ; and such was the opinion of the individual who had endeavoured to urge us to prayer on this occasion ; and when we were again seated in the coach, he, (the deacon,) not only made such an avowal, but took it upon himself to declare, " that 'prayer was the only essential exercise of piety." This brought up religion as a mat- ter of discussion. The little lady I have mentioned K2 !.; it it'"" If '•■ V ^ if. /«i 114 INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH. f h was on the side of religion ; but she seemed to think that prayer was neither its only nor material exercise. Then, the infidels were out against the whole system. They avowed opinions of the human kind in accordance with something like the principles of materialism as entertained in the writings of the late Thomas Jeffer- son ; and so powerfully argumentative were these free- thinkers, that on the first onset the man of prayer was driven from the field, leaving them to descant upon the *' chimera of religion," the "fallacy of the Bible," and the " tricks of the clergy," without opposition from him. The Utile lady was a conscientious religionist, and though by no means a bigot in principle, she was a firm believer in the revelations and the doctrines of the Bible ; and such were her feelings of regard for her prin- ciples, that she could not content herself to hear religion and the things she had been taught to revere and re- gard as holy, reviled ; or see the foundations of all her hopes attacked, pulled down and wantonly picked to pieces and scattered to the winds, without oflTering some resistance, which she ventured to make by way of argument. Upon this lady's having entered the lists as a disputant with such mighty opponents, my interest was much excited, and I was awakened to observe the course and result of the arguments, which on the part of the materialists were assumed by one of the gentle- TNCIDEP^TS OF A STAGE-COACH. ll(j ,i ! think ercise. ystem. •rdance ism as Jeffer- e free- zer was pon the e," and jm him. ist, and ,s a firm of the ler prin- religion and re- f all her icked to offering ) by way the lists '■ interest erve the the part e gentle- men, the other having withdrawn from the dispute, not being willing to appear so ungallant as to remain an as- so(i;ited oppon<'nt of a lady, who was to contend single handed. On the one side, the reading and general in- formation of the gentleman had made him a perfect master of his subject. The little lady, too, evidently understood her subject. But, then, she contended upon ground so diverse and distant from her adversary, that there was no concussion of argument or real encounter. While the gentleman talked philosophy, and reasoned upon what he termed the premises of naturj, the Utile lady founded all her reasoning upon the Bible, and brought her proofs and arguments from that book — the very authenticity of which was denied, in toto, by the materialist. In a disputation on a point of creed with a religion- ist, there was no doubt the little lady would have been more than ordinarily clever in argument ; but as it was, it seemed her opponent had taken a position upon an eminence, from which he opened his batteries, and threw his missiles in every direction upon point blank marks ; while she could reach him with no one single reply, nor had she the ability to maintain herself in a change of position. In this condition the little lady soon became sensible of her weakness, and saw the difficulties by which she was surrounded ; but, having iu\ m m 116 INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH. once entered upon the field of argument, her pride for- bade her to give it up, without an effort at contest, to the possession of her antagonist. Then, as I saw the little lady in a dilemma, like a good and true knight, I felt a desire to go to her as- sistance, and begged her permission to suggest a few things, which I thought might prove in aid of her argu- ment. To this she readily consented, saying "she should feel herself greatly relieved by surrendering the argument into my hands, as she thought I would be much better able to advocate the side of the question she had essayed to maintain." While the discussion, (in the first instance,) of the subject of religion had been going on, I had remained a silent listener to what was said, and I had afforded no ground for a conclusion how I stood in opinion. But, upon my offering to assume the disputation in behalf of religion, the advocate of materialism inferred from it that I was a professor of religious principles ; and as he assured me it would give him great pleasure to hear and answer my arguments, (if I had any such to offer in opposition to his opinions,) he remarked, " he was glad to find he had got an adversary to contend with who could not shield himself from any roughness of handling by the courtesy due to sex." The principles of materialism advocated by my ad- s^ I de for- to the like a ber as- ; a few argu- "she ng the uld be lestion of the nained dedno But, half of from it ind as o hear offer e was 1 with less of ly ad- »♦ r INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH. 117 versary denying the idea of any such thing as a future state of existence to man, his principal effort had been to show the inutility of religion, and its evil tendency, as it regarded the condition of this life, and the affairs of human society ; and it was on this ground alone, that an issue could be made up of the question between us. While I was ready to assert that so far as religion concerned the man, individually considered, or his hope of a spiritual existence, it was a matter entirely be- tween the creature and his God ; I contended that as it related to human society we were bound to consider it as we did every other institution embraced by man. That while we counted upon one hand the evils that result from religion, as it is alleged, we should estimate upon the other the benefits it confers upon our species, and if, in a moral and social point of view, those benefits are found to be greater than the evils which are supposed to flow from it, it is evidently an institution proper for man, and ought to be received and cherished. In answer, my opponent said, " he thought there could be no difficulty in satisfactorily establishing it ns a fact, that the evils of religion, regarding it as an in- stitution of this life, have a great preponderance over any advantages to human society, which could possibly be accorded to it ;" and cited from pages of history many and various accounts of oppressions, broils, civil I; -I 1 .. H' ■ ^ I i :ir 1 ' f^'l i. t fl :|| ■mm . 118 INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH. commotions, and wars, which are said to have originated from religion, or on religious grounds. " But," said I, "do we not, sir, find all these evils you describe to have existed in every age and among every denomination of people, among those who have never known, and those who have rejected our system of religion, as well as among those who have professed to adopt its doctrines ? If, then, such be the fact, and I believe the historical authorities you have quoted will assure me it is, may we not more reasonably conclude that the evils complained of result from the viciousness of our own natural propensities, and the imperfections of our hearts, than from the principles and precepts of religion, by which they are neither authorized nor ap- proved of. Certainly no one could have authority for acts of violence from Him whose whole teaching was that of mildness and forbearance, and whose command was, "whosoever smiteth thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also." I continued, " that there have been perpetrated the most unholy deeds, with the colour of serving the cause of religion, and that very bad men have and still do claim a sanctity from its principles, and enact the deepest wrongs under the pretence of doing God service, is, as I conceive, but an evidence of the iniquity of man, and in no manner militates against religion. For if re- s filiated 3 evils among o have system ofessed ct, and ed vvrill •nclude ousness fections cepts of nor ap- )rity for ng was immand cheek, ated the le cause still do lact the service, of man, 'or if re- 4 ^1 INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH. 119 ligion be put aside, these matters complained of, might, and no doubt would, all be enacted and take place under some other colour or pretence. That men are bad without religion, cannot be denied, and that there are many bad professors of religion, is equally true. Nevertheless, if religion carried neither virtue nor utility Witt it, why should it be assumed, I would ask, by those who have not regenerated hearts to entitle them to its badges 1 None counterfeit that which is intrinsically bad, or imitate that which is only evil in its tendency ; and then we find that all wrong and mis- deeds are contrary to the spirit and letter of the doc- trines of the Christian religion. That the mind of man naturally turns to evil, must be evident to all observers of men and their affairs ; hence, a very important quality of religion, in its bearings on human society, is that it places a restraint upon the acts of the individual by whom it is embraced, and clothes him with a character which it becomes his pride as well as his object to sus- tain by a course of rectitude in life ; and there are but few persons, comparatively speaking, who will not make an effort to be in reality something like what they profess to be. That the world contains many good men who are not professedly religious, there can be no doubt ; and it may be said, truly, that a man may possess^ virtue and charity without religion, but to such there ia n If f.'* I 1:1. ' It 120 INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COAGH. no compulsion, while virtue, charity, and benevolence are the commands of religion." At the moment I was thus speaking, we had arrived at the top of a declivity over which the road passed ; and as we began to descend, instead of the horses being reined in by the coachman, as was to have been ex- pected, he commenced lashing them, and we soon found ourselves moving down the hill at a velocity which it seemed wovdd have left the best locomotive in the rear. Jehu's driving, in comparison to ours, would have been a tardy gait. Among the passengers, it was all con- sternation, and none could divine the cause of the strange proceedings on the part of the coachman. That our lives were being jeopardized was apparent — but to remonstrate was out of the question. From one side of the road rose a steep acclivity, and on the other an almost perpendicular bank descended, at the foot of Avhich rolled the deep waters of the Mohawk, whose velocity we were then fast outstripping. Still, crack, crack, went the coachman's whip, and on we went, ex- pecting every moment to be thrown over the bank, horses, coach and all, into the river ; and as we got to the bottom of the descent in the road, over the rivers brink we were thrown, and would have been plunged into the water, had it not been for the interference of a tree, standing out from the side of the bank, between i n jvolence I arrived passed ; es being )een ex- on found which it the rear, ave been all con- e of the }achman. parent — 'rem one the other le foot of k, whose 11, crack, went, ex- ^ le bank, s we got le rivers plunged ence of a between INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH. 121 the level of the road and the water's edge, against which the coach fell and lodged. The little lady, being placed in the coach on the side which had become the lower one, found herself more crowded than ever, as myself and another were fairly piled upon her. One of the New- York ladies fainted, and the other cried murder ! while the two gentlemen who had advocated infidelity, burst open the door of the coach on one side, and sprung out and up the bank to the horses ; at the same moment, the dea- con made a leap from the door on the other side, which ended with a plunge in the river. The little lady, the moment she was let up a trifle, and on beholding the unlucky deacon in the water, forgot her own jeopardy, and began to sing out for us to save him ! The other two gentlemen who made up the company of passen- gers having got out and clambered up the bank, I put my head outside of the door, to observe the condition of the coach. The gentlemen who had first got out were engaged in releasing the horses, which the coach- man had succeeded in keeping above the bank, from the tackling that fastened them to the coach. Havincr succeeded in this, one of them threw me the end of a leading line, which I fastened around the waist of the little lady, and by this means, and the assistance rendered by the gentlemen in the road, she was ena- L % % 1 t. ^t:M\ *- *!,!. ¥'l mn it I 1^: i ijl! *! • '1 1 Ifi' ; ' i '/ ■1!' 122 INCIDENTS OP A STAGE-COACH. bled to make the ascent from the coach in safety ; and then, by the same process the two other ladies were sent up. Their safety being accomplished, I left the coach and clambered to the road, myself. During these proceedings, the deacon remained in the water, but he was not drowned. Just at the edge of the river, there was growing on the bank a clump of little bushes, which, by good luck, came within the deacon's grasp as he fell into the water ; and by holding on to them he was en??bled to keep himself from floating down the current, as well as from sinking — but it afforded him no means of getting out. Believing that while the deacon had strength to cling to his bush, he was in no danger of being drowned, it was proposed by the gentlemen that we should let him enjoy his bath, until we had got the coach up from its perilous condition, and placed it safe in the road. To this the ladies remonstrated, and demanded that the deacon should be assisted to get out immediately ; and as I could not consent that our prejudices and dislikes should allow us to suffer the individual to remain one moment in his jeopardy, after we had the ability to afford him a rescue, I joined the ladies in their de- mand to have him given iiximediate help. This was consented to, finally, by the others, and the leading lines were put once more in requisition ; and being length- i« I y; and is were Left the g these but he ir, there bushes, ^asp as them he >wn the I him no to cling rowned, Lould let up from he roadc that the jly; and dislikes nain one ability to their de- rhis was ing lines g length' **^ INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH, 123 ened out, the end was thrown down to the deacon, and by his fastening it around his waist, we succeeded in hauling him safe to dry land. The cause of our mishap, was this. At the moment we commenced the descent, the hold-back straps broke, and as the only alternative to our being precipitated into the river, and to prevent the coach from running upon the wheel-horses, the coachman had put on the lash; and as we arrived at the foot of the descent in the road, some other part of the tackling gave way, so that the coachman could no longer direct the course of the vehicle — and we were thrown off the bank. Having released ourselves from peril, by the help of a number of countrymen, residing near the place of our mishap, our stage-coach was got up into the road with- out having received any material damage ; the broken harness supplied with new ; the horses tackled in, and we all, (except the deacon,) stowed in our seats again, and proceeding on our way. The deacon, on account of his drenched and drip- ping clothes, was excluded from his inside seat, and compelled to take post with the coachman on the out- side. As he mounted the box, " Oh ! dear," said he, " IVe been pretty badly hurt," ) %.: .1 . . ^ ■jr Mi \ ■:■.-• 124 INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH. I'l !] " Oh ! the gentleman has got pretty wet," said the little lady. " Look," said one of the New- York ladies, " my bon- net is pretty nearly spoiled ;" " and I," replied the other, " was pretty nearly frightened to death." "By Jove," said one of the advocates of infideli- ty, " our horses came pretty near being thrown over the bank." "Yes," said the other, "and the nigh wheel horse came pretty near having his neck broken." " Well, I declare we Ve had a pretty fearful adven- ture," remarked another gentleman ; " and a pretty affair it would have been," replied his neighbour, who sat next to him, " if we had all been thrown into the river !" While these remarks were being made, our wheels rolled on, and in a short time after we arrived at , from whence I did not intend to proceed with the stage- coach, as the place to which my business called me, lay to the right and to some distance from the main road. On learning I was to leave the company, the little lady came to me in one of the parlours of the hotel at which we stopped, where I had taken a seat, and said, " she should be pleased if I would favour her with my name" — and I gave her my card. Having received 1^ t INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH. 125 id the y bon- ed the afideli- tt over e nigh foken." adven- preMy ir, who nto the wheels t , 5 Stage- led me, e main it and examined the address it contained, she remark- ed, " that it did not disclose my profession" — and said, " if I did not deem the request impertinent, she begged I would favour her with it." " I am a lawyer," replied I. " A lawyer !" repeated the lady. " Oh ! but I wish you were a clergyman, you could do so much good in the world." II f4Jii tbm 'I \'i fy •} < r 1 Fp part with all that I possess, Or in my kit — that's dear to me — And grieve for which, I'm sure, much less, Than when I'm forced to part with thee- My Blanket. There ne'er was quilt, nor counterpane, In which such comfort e'er could be ; For they are always thin — and vain, And not so thick and warm as thee — My Blanket, When on my guard bed, I have lain, (Though mind from sorrow never free,) At fortune I dared not complain, While comfort I received from thee — . My Blanket. When in a cold and dreary night, I've watched the foe, by forest tree ; To feel thy warmth, I've wished I might, And closely wrap myself in thee — My Blanket. % I M THE SOLDIER TO HIS BLANKET. And when the hour of midnight came, And I, from picket post, could flee ; Thy comfort ever was the same When I was closely wrapped in thee — My Blanket. And when afflicted with disease, Then, dearer still art thou to me ; From pain severe, I oft find ease. When I am snugly wrapped in thee — My Blanket. 129 A SOLDIER'S KIT. Since writing the above, I have looked into an English Dic- tionary for the word Kit — where I find it with the following defi- nitions. 1. A small tub with a cover. 2. A milk pail. 3. A pocket violin. 4. A large bottle. But neither of these definitions convey anything like what I would have understood by the word. The blanket, coat, and other articles of his wardrobe — with the things for his toilet, comprise what the soldier calls his kit. i| if 'I ' ( I 1 1 X^^\ 130 IMPROMPTU. — BPITAPH. IMPROMPTU. When it is hot, the farmer drinks Some spirits to cool his blood ; And when 'tis cold, yet still he thinks, A little will do him good. But soldiers drink in cold or heat, And when 'tis dry, to wet it ; The bowl they'll ever ready meet. And drink when they can get it. \ d^ ll ^ 1 ' I I- fl I Li EPITAPH; To be inscribed on the tomb of a soldier. He, at the must'ring bugle's sound Was ever ready on the ground, And muster there he passed ; But, tyrant death, with iron rod. Hath called him now, before his God, To muster for the last. 1: •)l A CELEBRATION, Of the Anniversary of the Declaration of American Independence, in the Citadel of Quebec, L. C. On the first of July, 1838, there were a number of American citizens, of which the writer of this was one, confined in the Citadel of Quebec, L. C, where they were held by the British government, as prisoners of state, on a charge of having levied war against Her Majesty in behalf of the independence of the Canadas ; and believing they were then most likely to be detained there over the 4th, they resolved to celebrate the day with the usual ceremonies of its recognition. In pur- suance of this resolve, preparations for a good dinner, with its concomitant — wine, were duly and efficiently made. The morning of the 4th came, and the American Prisoners caused their room, which was one of the casemates of the Citadel, to be put in the most neat and perfect order possible : (this was done by a superin- tending sergeant of the Coldstream Guards, and an orderly man appointed by the commanding officer:) and having attired themselves in the best of their wardrobes, and the arrangements for dinner being completed, at one o'clock, P. M. they came to order around their table, when the following ceremonies were gone through with in a dignified and respectful manner : I. Prayer — read by Gen. S . II. Hymn — sung by Messrs. B. F. P -, T. R. <'h ■l\ M m 'f/ii f>"i '?^il ■'if 'I % 132 C- P- A CELEBRATION OF THB S. T and N. S- c. p. H. L. H- A. W. III. Declaration of American Independence — read by Col. D . IV. Oration — by . V. Ode — written for the occasion by Gen. S— «— , and sung by Mr. B. F. P . (ODE.) I. Here, Freedom, thy spirit awake in each breast, Now the bright star of hope still beams from on high ; And though the rude chains by which we are oppressed, May clank round our forms — yet we heave not a sigh: And while these deep walls do our footsteps restrain. And heavy barred casements deny " we are free" — Our cups we will fill — and the goblet we'll drain. And drink to the goddess of sweet Liberty ! II. We scorn the harsh touch of the cold iron clasp, While with joy's lightest heart our cell is made glad, And ne'er shall our spirits be reached by the grasp Of those, for our blood, who are thirsty and mad. 'Tis true we are bound — but why should we fear 1 Our captors led captive we're sure yet to see ! So, our cups we will fill — as " we^re all freemen here^^ — And drink to the goddess of sweet Liberty ! V V. w. NCE — ihigh; ressed, a sigh: train, ree » le glad, sp lad. ir? f I nFX'LARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. III. 133 See yon scarlet clad guard, who stands at our door, The slave of the despot and scourge of the free ; His office proclaims that his own freedom's o'er — » Poor wretch — he enjoys it, now, far less than we. We are fixed to our cell — so is he to his post. For jailer, than prisoner, is never more free ; He's thirsty and sad — while we fill for our toast, And drink to the goddess of sweet Liberty ! IV. List, list, ye ! there's music that's sounding afar. The voice of the free — from our own native land ; Oh, Britons ! those notes shall your proud spirits mar^ liike words on the wall by invisible hand. Your tyrant is pretty^ but why should we care ? Once Egypt had one ^ust as pretty as she ; 80, while we fill bumpers, we toast no such fair ^ But drink to the goddess of sweet Liberty ! V. We remember the era to Britain most dread — From her hand when was 'rested, the home of the brave. And, now, though her minions a while here may tread, Here, despots of Europe shall cease to enslave. Then, hail to the day ! may its glory ne'er fade, 'Till man independent of kingcraft shall be, And the world's fertile plains for ever be made, The abode of the goddess of sweet Liberty I " [ v mm 134 A CELEBRATION OF THE t: ,;yi 'I' if. u '% :^ii« ':* VI. Prayer — read by Gen. S , concluding tlie ceremonies. After the preceding ceremonies were ended, the American Prisoners sat down to a good and substan- tial dinner, which was afforded to them exclusively at the expense of Her Majesty's government. Although it could not be said that their table was os- tentatiously furnished — or that earth and ocean had been plundered to furnish viands to them for the occasion, yet it was certain that their board was spread with a clean white table cloth, and furnished with all the usual paraphernalia of the housewife, belonging to the table ; and then their dinner consisted of one course of soups, one course of roast beef and boiled pork, and vegetables with the ordinar;^^ et ceteras — one course of puddings, of three kinds — 'vith a concluding course, consisting of cheese, cracker s, &c. The quantity of each of these dishes was abundant — and then, a row of black bottles placed on one side of the room, showed that they were supplied with the means for conviviality. After the cloth was removed — tumblers and decanters spread the board ; and Gen. S , having been called to preside, read the following toasts, which were drank with as much glee as if the convivialists had been the most free on earth. f ^^n k V' ing the ed, the ubstan- ively at was OS- ad been :^casion, with a le usual e table ; f soups, Tetables iddings, isting of )f these c bottles ey were Dcanters n called re drank >een the 'P § i DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 135 REGULAR TOASTS. 1. The day we celebrate. The most glorious era on the page of history. May it never be forgotten so long as one spark of patriotism glows in our hearts — or one drop of the blood of our forefathers runs warm in our veins. 3 times 3. 2. The Declaration of American Independence. The prologue of a great drama, the denouement of which was the acknowledgment of the British sovereign. May there be another act added to the drama, and may its epilogue be the proclamation of Liberty to all America. 3. The 4th of July, 1776. The dawn of political liberty in America. From this day let the despots of this continent date the beginning of their destruction. 4. The signers of the Declaration of American Inde- pendence. Men who dared to do or die. May future events show that their race is not extinct. 5. Washington and Marion. Men who fought for a nation's liberty. They, too, were guilty of the same glorious offence for which we suffer. 3 times 3. 6. Bonnivard and Lafayette. Our illustrious prede- cessors to the honours of a prison. May we imitate them in our future life, by serving the cause of virtue, liberty, and humanity. 3 times 3. 7. The heroes of the American Revolution, Their names are gems on the pages of our country's history. I', i I ; i-|: ! t I 136 A CELEBRATION OF THE it, "if *1 May their memories long be retained and cherished by those for whom they secured heaven's best gift to man — liberty. 8. Gen. Montgomery. On this spot he died in the cause of American Liberty. May his name have a lasting place on the rolls of fame. Drank standing. 9. The Tree of Liberty. Planted by our forefathers in '76. May it still flourish and extend its fostering shade over the entire continent of America. 10. The United States and Great Britain. The Ea- gle and the Lion. With bird and beast let there be no amalgamation. 11. The President of the United States of America. A citizen exalted by the suffrages of a free people. May he not forget that his present seat was erected by the swords of such men as Steuben, Pulaski, De Kalb, Kosciusko, Sterling, and Gates. 12. La Belle France. The land of glory and of fame. She once gave arms and a Lafayette, to a part of the British colonies in America, May she do as good a turn for the rest. 13. Our own Country. The home of the free — the asylum of the oppressed^ — and the dread of the oppress sor. May we soon tread its shores. 3 times 3. While the cup went round the following sentiments were offered and drank as— » I srished gift to in the have a iing. ifathers >stering 'he Ea- e be no imerica. e. May by the Kalb, )f fame, t of the good a ee — the oppress timents DECLARATTON OF I^JDEPENDENCE. 137 VOLUNTEER TOASTS. By Gen. S . Canada. The United States had her Washington, South America her Bolivar, and Swit- zerland her Tell. May Canada soon show her man also. By Col. D . The American Eagle. The bird of liberty. May she still soar with unexampled suc- cess until her broad wing shall flutter with its protect- ing and fostering care over the oppressed and suffering people of the Canadas. By — — . The rough Despot and the gilded Ty- rant. The monarchs of Russia and Great Britain. The British king, (or queen, or some such thing,) lately sent an agent to the court of St. Petersburgh, as a mediator in behalf of the unfortunate Poles. May the autocrat of Russia return the compliment by sending an agent to the court of St. James to mediate in behalf of the suffering people of Canada. By Mr. P . The government of our country. A well established Democracy. May it remain what it now is until crowns and royalty become extinct. By Mr. S . Free governments. The greatest good to the largest number. May the time soon come when there shall be none other on this continent. By. Col. D . Gen. Anthony Wayne. His bones now repose on the shores of Erie. May his services be remembered. Drank standing. M2 if 1;. it ir:<; r:.5' m 138 A CELEBRATION OF THE By Mr. C . The Patriots of the Canadian Revolu' tion. Martyrs in the cause of freedom. May tliey yet see tyranny and oppression put down in the country, and liberty reared upon its ruins. By Mr. P . The time, place, and company. A band of Patriot prisoners — in a British fortress — in 1838, May the memory of this day, and the individuals who here celebrate the anniversary of our nation's independ- ence never be erased. By Gen. S . The Queen of Great Britain. The feeble monarch of a mighty nation. We should admire her most as Miss Victoria Guelph. By Mr. T . The surviving Patriots of America. Our ancestors who fought in the cause for which we now suffer. May the evening of their days be as se- rene as their morn was bright and glorious. By . Canadian grievances. i2c ill *■:' •r !l I ll-^i: BITE— THE WORST. A KNAVE will bite, and scorpion like, His sting is seldom cured ; The bite of rat, or testy cat, Is hard to be endured. I t But more than these, or bite of fleas. Or rabid dog — I fear it's — A bite much worse, a greater curse — The bite of ardent spirits. ^ ) A newspaper published in one of the villages of the far west, says — " A man who had purchased a bottle of rum at a store, while on his way home, tasted so freely and frequently of the creature, that, to him, the world went round with a redoubled velocity, and he could no longer hold his perpendicular standing — but fell, broke his bottle, spilled his liquor, and cut his hands in a very severe manner. Being afterward asked what had wounded his hands — ^he said, he had been bitten by -a bottle of rum !" MY TAILOR. I •• > ! . Bs of the bottle of 50 freely le world 30uld no 11, broke n a very hat had ntten by Ye city belles who dress so neat, And dandies, too, who walk the street, With coats all buttoned up so neat — Fd have you now take notice, That in the shop 'bove Number Four, Which was but small in days of yore, But now's enlarged ten feet or more — To make it more convenient. You can be fitted — ready made. With PANTALOONS — and coats, well stayed. And waistcoats — trimmed all o'er with braid : And cheaper you'll get nowhere. If you'd be fitted with a coat. To ride in stage, or packet boat. And have no cash— he'll take your note, If on demand you'll pay it. And if a belle would have a dress, That all would readily confess, Made her appear in loveliness, Where'er she went to meeting : ^l ■Hi I. ? \<'i Mi ' f-.: J \]'\ 4 ] t 1 r 1 ^ 1 ! 1 J, 1 h ! 142 ini lAiLOR. There is no man, but he can beat, To fit with broad- cloth — all complete, And trim it off with lace so neat — And charge so little for it. If you have cloth and trimmings all, To make a suit for New-Years' Ball, He'll cut and make it neat and small — And take no cabbage from it. And if youVe holes in your elbows. Or any rent in all your clothes, (As every one now surely knows,) He's the true man to mend it. •< 9 Is w i T BLACK-EYED MARYETT. % Her oye, (I'm vrry fond of handsome eyes,) Was largo and dark. — Byron. I. While gay and lightsome stops I treacly And onward pass life's sunny course — * As joys crowd fast upon my head, And pleasures flow from every source :- While mem'ry lasts — I'll ne'er forget, My little black-eyed Maryett. 11. Let fortune pour her wealth in showers, And with bright laurels deck my brow — ^ Strew every path with glitt'ring flowers— And friends around admiring, bow : — But then — I never will forget My little black-eyed Maryett. III. Though other eyes have smiles for me, And other tongues may lisp as sweet — Though forms as fair I oft may see, And many a " melting blue eye" meet :— Yet no — ^not then, will I forget My little black-eyed Mar>'ett. f '■< #' t. 'f 'i 1: i 'It l*n| m^ m STANZAS,^ ~ Written in a Lady's Album. Ml 'I' w •if if it : i ■' '■ I ;l " Love is the only loan for love," The bard doth truly sing ; So kindred spirits from above, To each their tributes bring. Then from affection's purest fount, I would a proffer make ; And though so e'er of small account, I pray my trifle take. Yes, take my love — it will not change ; With thee — Fit trifle not ; And while you rove in pleasure's range, I would not be forgot. And let your heart the gift repay ; My name around it twine — Let me in truth, for ever say — '' I have thy love for mine." THE MISTAKEN BRIDE A NOVEL— IN THREE CHAPTERS. CHAPTER I. — THE INTRODUCTION. For aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by history or tale, The course of true love never did run smooth. Shakspeare. At a time, near the close of the last century, Coun- sellor Lashem was the District Attorney for the city of New- York. He was a man of acknowledged legal ac- quirements ; he had a high and exalted mind, and was once noted for the possession of a great degree of natural goodness of heart. But from a continued inti- macy with rogues, which his office compelled him to, his feelings had become much soured, and he seemed to have imbibed the impression that mankind was in the whole but one great family of rascals, and that he, like Lot in Sodom, was the only good person to be found among them. He then travelled no other path than that of his business ; he had become retired in his habits ; N 1/ Tf 146 THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. V' i ^'1 .: ..I i: I ■■I i ;' ^ ii t ,'^ and he shunned all intercourse, except with the unfor- tunate and the wretched, with whom he was profes- sionally required to hold communion. His manners too, at the bar, which had once been regarded as bland and courteous, had become harsh and austere, and this had procured for him the cognomen of *^ public persecutor ;" and it was charged by many that he was unjustifiably severe, and that he oftentimes laboured unnecessarily to produce the conviction of those against whom it had been his duty to appear as the public prosecutor. Such was Counsellor Lashem, who, while District Attorney of New-York, kept an office at No. in V ! street. In his office, sat the Counsellor one morning, surround- ed by a number of clerks and a great collection of rogues, and unfortunate persons, (who had been duped or robbed by rogues,) with whom he was consulting, when a man, having the dress and appearance of a countryman, ac- companied by a couple of women, entered the office, and inquired for the District Attorney. On being intro- duced to the Counsellor, these persons requcvSted an in- terview with him. As the new visiters had rather more of a respectable appearance than his city clients, the Counsellor invited them into an ante-office, or private consulting room, which was adjoining. There the in- terview was but brief, and the Counsellor returned to lii le unfor- 1 profes- aers too, [and and this had jecutor ;" istifiably cessarily m it had *. Such Attorney in >r '■■ urround- f rogues, )r robbed n a man, man, ac- e office, rig intro- 3d an in- ner more nts, the r private e the in- urned to I i THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. 147 his seat, and the countryman with his women left the office. A few days after this interview, a paragraph appear- ed in one of the newspapers published in New- York, called the Luminary, (a name given to the print for no other reason, as it was supposed, than because it never contained anything in its columns luminous, either to the eye, or the mind,) under the head of " Police Re- ports," setting forth, " that a Mr. Benjamin Johnson, the keeper of a livery stable in Greenwich-street, had been arrested and held to bail on a charge of bigamy." The editor of the Luminary then, in his paragraph, went on to say, " that although the accused was most re- spectably connected, and had been highly esteemed by the citizens to whom he was known, the testimony against him was of such a character as to leave no doubt of his guilt ; and that the offence was the more ag- gravated, as the man had an amiable and lovely wife and a number of interesting children, at the time of the commission of the offence charged, who were made to suffer on account of his conduct ; and that the person who had been made his dupe was a very accomplished young lady residing in one of the villages on the Hudson, who felt deeply the disgrace which had been brought upon her by his heartless villany ; and that it had also appeared that he was, when he perpetrated the unhallow- ■1 -!■ I It if I" ] i^ ' fj-- I. ('^ Hi i^ : !r ' ■i .1 \' ' ^^ 148 THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. J;' .;•' ed fraud upon his young and confiding victim, living with his wife in the city, on the best of terms, and con- sequently could never have entertained a thought of abiding with the other, and could have had no other pos- sible motive for the act, than the gratification of one of the basest propensities of man." The editor of another New- York paper, called the Pinkj (perhaps, because it was a dirty, smutty thing,) hung out at the door of his office, a large sheet of paper on which was marked with a brush, in huge letters, a notice of the matter, headed *' Villanous Transaction," with an assurance to those who read the notice that the next number of the Pink should contain a full and exact account of the whole matter. About this time there existed a most villanous custom among certain young men, both married and not married, inhabiting the great mercantile emporium of America, which, by those who had embraced it, was facetiously denominated " smoking the beauties J^ It was thus : whenever any of these worthy young men became op- pressed by ennui, or worn down by the fatigues of busi- ness, they would shave close, put on a rich and modest apparel, and, under some assumed name, stroll off through the country villages, until they chanced to light upon some confiding and unsuspecting country girl with whom they were pleased, and with her agree to a match, con- I •I 1, living nd con- lught of tier pos- f one of another because 3r of his ied with headed to those le Pink 3 whole custom Harried, Lmerica, etiously thus : ame op* of busi- modest through ht upon h whom ch, con^ • > THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. 149 summate a marriage, and then leave the object of their deception — to look for her husband the rest part of her life ; while they would return to the city, throw off their assumed name and dress, and there, hiding themselves behind a furious pair of whiskers, surrounding their face from ear to ear, with a pair of long and well soaped ear^ locks, remain secure from detection, until they were ready for another expedition of the kind. Now, whether this said custom of proceeding was being continued as one of the last relics of those adopted by the honest Dutch burghers of New- Amsterdam, or as having been introduced by the more modern Anglo- Americans of New- York, does not appear, from an examination of the City-Hall Record, ever to have been determined ; although we do therein find that it has often been decided by the learned Dickey Riker, that the aforesaid custom of proceeding is venal in the ex- treme, highly destructive of morals, and most unjust in its effects upon the fairtst part of the beaer half of man- kind ; and, therefore, that the practice thereof ought to be prevented by the strong arm of the law. The arrest of Johnson had no sooner been announced in New- York, than it became a general topic of conver- sation. While some doubted the truth of the charge, many thought that it was very likely to be true ; and they believed it was high time that some example should be N2 hi .1 : m ': I , if- (-^* >« t: 150 THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. |l ;!• made in order to put an end to such infamous and unjust proceedings. Johnson, though vexed at his situation, and sorely hurt by the grief, which the circumstances thrown around him, had caused his wife, feigned to care nothing about it, and attempted to laugh the matter down. But, alas, for him, " he had reckoned without his host." The laugh was decidedly against him. He called in at a porter-house one evening, where he found a number of his acquaintances sitting around a table, engaged in a game of domino. " Ha ! Johnson," said one of them, as he observed his presence, " we hear you have entered the wrong cove, and have had the smugglers' luck in attempting to * smoke a beauty.' " *' It appears," said another, " you have got your hand into the trap of old father-in-law, while grasping after a beauty." " Johnson," cried a third, as he clapped down a domino, *' if you will take my advice, my dear fellow, you will never venture a trial on that accusation. Pay the amount of your bail bond, and clear out for Smyrna or Constantinople ; there you may have half-a-dozen wives if you think you can support them." " No ! no !" says another, " divide the amount of the [ i-m THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. 151 id unjust i sorely [1 around I ng about | lut, alas, ." The y^ where around a observed le wrong npting to 3ur hand g after a down a T fellow, m. Pay Smyrna -a-dozen nt of the ' i bail bond between the priest and the girl, and you shall hear no more of the affair. They will never appear against you, if you take my advice." So it went with one class ; while 'another set, good people they were, thought there could be no doubt of Johnson's guilt ; although they acknowledged they knew nothing of the matter except what they had received from the mouth of that lying wench, public report. There was one man who " did not consider it proper to deal with a person charged with such an immoral of- fence." Another " would not trust his horses in the keeping of a man of such a character ;" and others " would not even hire a horse from such a man ;" and so one after another had withdrawn their intercourse with Johnson, until he had no horses to keep, but his own ; and those none came to hire ; and ere the day arrived for his trial, he found himself fairly out of busi- ness. Thus, what Johnson was at first disposed to put down as a mere troublesome joke, had thrown him upon a fearful crisis ; and he was not remiss in the employ- ment of able and competent counsel to conduct his de- fence. The counsel retained by Johnson, Mr. Silkland, an accomplished lawyer of the city, made a full examina- tion of all the circumstances connected with the accusa- tion, and caused to be subpoenaed a large number of ill u';i i! 152 THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. ill* witnesses to attend the trial, to testify on behalf of the accused ; and this was all of the preparation for John- son's defence which was then known to the public. At the time when occurred the transactions of which I am now writing the history, there resided in one of the small villages situated on the banks of the Hudson, some thirty or forty miles above the city of New-York, a widow woman of the name of Simons ; who was, however, more generally known by the familiar appel- lation of " Aunt Simons." She was well off in the world — having a good and valuable lot of land, of two hundred acres or more, cornering in the village, with a very comfortable dwelling, which she occupied with her only child, a daughter of eighteen or twenty years, whose name was Desdemona— or Desta, as she was called. Aunt Simons was something past the meridian of life, and as she used to express it, had been " a lone widow for many a long year." Her husband had died while she was but a trifle more than thirty, leaving her the farm — and Desta, who was then an infant ; and notwithstanding the farm had procured her now and then a suitor. Aunt Simons guessed " they ca^^is to woo the widow and marry the farm," and so she con- tinued to cultivate it herself, and under her own par- ticular directions, and to occupy the old homestead # . IH THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. 163 of the r John- )lic. f which one of ludson, NT-York, LO was, appel- in the of two , with a id with r years, he was dian of a lone ad died ing her It ; and ow and ai*:s to le con- im par- lestead with no other companion than her daughter, on whose education and comely appearance, she very much prided herself. " Though Desta had been brought up by a woman," as Aunt Simons used frequently to remark, " without the assistance of a father, she did not see but she appear- ed as well as any of the girls in the village." It was true. Aunt Simons' daughter was really a very fine looking country girl ; and that she had been sufficiently educated to make a fit companion for a farmer or me- chanic — was evidently no joke ! But with Aunt Simons, Desta had been intended for a lady ; and being an only and a favourite child, she had hence been in the way of receiving more of the care and instruction of her mo- ther, who, as she became older, fancied shQ understood the philosophy of mankind the better, and was there- fore the more capable of moulding her daughter to suit the world's fashion. Miss Desta had been sent three whole quarters to a boarding school in New- York. She had taken lessons in drawing from a good teacher who had happened to be staying in the village ; and had received instructions from a strolling music master. Dancing, however, had not been added to Miss Desta's accomplishments. For why ? Aunt Simons was a member of a religious so- II '1 I I: iv! ■i' ; it ,..,, ^1/ ' r 11 1 1 ill ^^^1 1 ' ■ '• I ! J B 1 ' ^^m ■ m ''^ u W[ '^ \ '■ ;^^B| / [1 1 1 I * ]m r.' 154 THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. ciety, which denied a participation in such amusements ; and it would not have been becoming in her to have her daughter taught to practice that which had been pronounced sinful by her religious friends ; and now that Miss Desta had arrived at the full growth of wo- manhood she certainly exhibited no indifferent appear- ance. Sho had accomplished a number of fine draw- ings of the romantic scenery on the river in their neigh- bourhood, with some other pretty pictures ; and with a good natural voice, and the instructions she had receiv- ed, she sung tolerably well — and could thumb the piano ; for she had such a music machine, a second- hand one, which had been presented her while very young by one of her mother's suitors. With all these accomplishraents, Miss Desta was, as it may be sup- posed, no very bad company ; and many a country swain had sighed for her, and begged to become her lover. But her heart was yet as free as air. It had not re- ceived one single shaft from the bow of Cupid. Aunt Simons had taught her that she was to be a lady — and Miss Desta now felt she was a lady ; and she kept herself aloof from the sons of the farmers and mechanics of the village and neighbourhood, with the idea that she was intended for something better than the rough em- braces of those who follow the profession and employ- THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. 155 sments ; to have ad been md now I of wo- t appear- 16 draw- lir neigh- id with a d receiv- umb the , second- lile very all these be sup- ry swain er lover. 1 not re- d. Aunt ,dy — and pt herself lanics of that she lugh em- employ- ment of Cain ; and looked for a husband from among those only who were raised above the curse " of eating their bread in the sweat of their faces." The exalted notions of Desta Simons, had with- drawn her much from the society of the village people, by whom she was rather regarded as a person not of them. From the young persons with whom she had grown up, she had respect — but not love ; and she preferred her condition, though somewhat lonely, to being lowered as she deemed she must be by their familiarity. Mat- ters were thus with Miss Desta, when a young stran- ger made his appearance in the village. He was gen- demanly in his manners, tall and well dressed ; and wore a broach in his bosom, with a gold safety-chain ostentatiously displayed about his neck, attached to a rich looking gold watch, which he carried in his waist- coat pocket ; and an emerald glittered in a gold ring upon the little finger of his left hand, which was as much as to say, he was in search of a wife. The name given by the stranger, as his, was Benja- min Johnson ; and it was whispered about the village that he was the son of a rich land speculator residing in one of the western states — and that he had money. It was certain he had some change, for he paid his washerwoman regularly, and the bill for his board at J ,11 i' ■I > lit'. U ■ i ! i y irf lb' ! mm t- I) 't 111 I liilp 156 THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. the village tavern, where he had taken lodgings, was punctually discharged at the end of every week. Then, it so happened, in a very short time after the stranger made his appearance in the village, that he obtained an introduction to Miss Simons. How this came about, the historian hath no particular knowledge ; but so it was, and in a few weeks thereafter, he, with Miss Desta and her mother, took an excursion in a steamboat to New-York, and Miss Desdemona Simons came back as Mrs. Johnson, and another plate was add- ed to the table of Aunt Simons. Though Johnson carried in his manners a little of thes wagger of a western beau, who felt that he was in the way of making his fortune by speculations upon the building lots of some " paper city" — or with the stocks of a " Wild-cat Bank," nevertheless, he was in the general, modest and unassuming, and easily obtained the courtesy of the village people ; and as Desta had long before the coming of Johnson to the place, turned her back upon all the country fellows, none of them had regarded him exactly as a rival ; and when he tendered them wine at the public house they all very cheerfully joined together to drink the health of the new married couple. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson then took another trip in a s ,» THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. 167 ings, was ek. after the 5, that he How this owledge ; •, he, with sion in a la Simons 5 was add- a little of was in the upon the he stocks as in the obtained esta had |ce, turned of them when he all very f the new trip in a steamboat — and their honeymoon passed with no other notable occurrence. After which, Johnson entered one of the village stores, as a kind of cadet merchant, with the avowed intention of opening a store in the village i for himself, so soon as he should become sufficiently acquainted with the business and the people, to venture upon it. The seventh week after his marriage with Miss Si- mons had expired, when Johnson received a letter from New- York, which he read to his h Ide, as well as to Aunt Simons. It purported to be from a fri« nd who had just arrived in the city from tV e vest, and barely contained a request that Johnson would come down to iNiew-York, in the next boat, as the writer wished to see him there immediately on some particular business, which the letter did not communicate — and on the next day John- son left for New-York. CHAPTER II. — THE MYSTERY. Old men, and beldames in the streets Do prophecy upon it dangerously. Shakspeare. According to appointment, Johnson was to have re- turned to his bride at the end of a week after his de- ■u I] 'I If'i "l \m lifl r 158 THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. -if i';„.1, :'i H ■' ■ ■' if »■ 1 ' t "I » 5 f parture. The week passed, and on the day he was ex- pected, two or three steamboats came up from New- York — ^but no Mr. Johnson with them. One, two, and three weeks more passed away, yet no husband came to Desta ; and when another week had gone, she ceased to watch the landings from the boats, as they daily passed up the Hudson ; and when six or eight weeks had elapsed after Johnson's departure, and brought no account from him, Desta began to fear she was de- serted. She wrote to Johnson at New- York, but got no reply. She then caused inquiries to be made for him in the city, with the like unsatisfactory result. Af- ter this, Desta and Aunt Simons settled upon the opinion that Johnson must have either been drowned or murder- ed ; how else they knew not to account for his absence. Among the people of the village, the absence of Johnson had become a matter of general remark ; but they came not to so charitable a conclusion as Desta and her mother. With them it was the accepted opi- nion " that Johnson was no western man, as he had pre- tended, but a smoke from New- York ; and that Desta was a deserted bride.'^ A knot of the country fellows were together on an evening in the bar-room of the village tavern. " Ha, ha, ha," said one, who had once aspired in his heart to become a suitor of Desta. " I thought it would turn <• I Was ex- n New- two, and id came e ceased ey daily it weeks )ught no was dc- :, but got nade for ult. Af- c opinion r murder- absence, sence of ark ; but IS Desta pted opi- had pre- at Desta er on an 1. (( Ha, 5 heart to ould turn § i THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. 159 out just SO for Miss Simons. I knew from the first that that this Johnson could be no more than a smohe come up from the city, to impose upon our girls. His story of the west is all fudge. New-York is his home." " Well, the Yorker's trick could not be played on a more deserving person," responded another. " Pride will have * its fall,' " said another, who had also been ambitious for Desta's hand ; and thus it seem- ed that the young men were rather inclined to laugh at her misfortune. She had held herself too much of the lady, to receive expressions of sympathy from any of them. Desta did not often appear out, but one day she was induced to accompany her mother on a visit to a friend, who was then sick. Returning home they became fa- tigued by their walk, and called at the house of a neigh- bour. The woman and her two daughters were in ; and Aunt Simons and Desta were no more than fairly seated when^^ the woman and her daughters began their in- quiries and remarks about Johnson. " It is true," said one of the girls, " we do not know that Miss Desta has been wronged, but if young wo- men will set themselves up for city chaps, they must not complain if they get deceived by city chaps." " I suppose we may call Desta a widow," said the other of the girls, " and I guess she would be glad to i)» •I i If li'. i nT •n.i 160 THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. have our brother George, now ; but once she thought herself too good for him." " Aunt Simons, I really pity your daughter," said the mother ; " but then there is no good ever to be expect- ed from these short courtships and quick matches." Desta had become offended at the speeches of the girls, and had risen to indicate her desire to leave ; then, as the remark was made by the woman to her mother, she tartly replied, " Well, madam, you may think so, but it would be, perhaps, as modest to amend your fa- mily record." Desta's eyes were at the moment resting upon a fa- mily record, on a scroll fixed in a large gilt frame which hung upon a wall of the room. From the dates of the events of the family, as it appeared upon the record, George had two more years for his age than the date of his mother's marriage showed her to have been a wife. So that, on the whole, the record presented a most no- vel exhibition of an irregularity. This Desta had ob- served, and she could not resist the use of a suggestion of it, as a retort to the woman for her impudent slant at her short courtship. Having replied to her own satis- faction, Desta would not consent to remain longer to continue so disagreeable a confab, as they were then en- gaged in — and she seized hold of Aunt Simons, and » •ii F' i» s ' thought ;aid the expect- » 3S. of the J ; then, mother, link 80, ^'our fa- on a fa- B which lates of record, le date i a wife, lost no- liad ob- rgestion slant at n satis- nger to hen en- ms, and THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. 161 V,i th her left the house immediately and returned to their home. A few months after Johnson had left, and when Des- ta was bearing the title of the deserted hride^ one of their neighbours had been down to New- York, and re- turned with the information that he had seen Johnson in the city, that he was keeping a livery stable in Greenwich-street ; which piece of information he lost no time in communicating to Desta and Aunt Simons. That the truth or falsehood of this story might be fully ascertained, Aunt Simons procured an agent to go down to the city, and inquire into the matter. Upon the re- turn of this agent, he not only confirmed what had been stated by the neighbour, but brought the farther account that Johnson had another wife and a number of chil- dren, with whom he was then residing. Thus havinor obtained what was deemed certain evi- dence of Johnson's perfidy. Aunt Simons regarded him as a chosen villain, and her heart gave place to no other feelings than those of indignation and revenge. She was fairly enraged at the insult and disgrace which had been brought upon them as she supposed by Johnson. Poor Desta, as yet, could feel but little bitterness toward Johnson, though she was suffering the fullest effects of wounded pride ; for when woman has once loved, she will continue to do so, even through great wrong. But 02 It , TV T ii.' I ' !( i 1 ^Kl I Ml I »■ 162 THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. she was now compelled to accept the opinion which had before been generally entertained by others, that she was a deserted bride ; and her spirits became en- tirely subdued by grief and chagrin. As soon as the necessary preparations could be made, Aunt Simons and Desta packed off to New- York, and had an interview with the District Attorney, who caused Benjamin Johnson, then keeping a livery stable in Greenwich-street, to be arrested ; and, on the deposi- tions of Desdemona Simons and her mother, he was held to bail to answer the charge of bigamy, which they prefered against him at the next court of General Ses- sions of the Peace, at which court a bill of indictment was brought in against him by the grand jury, and he was again held to bail to appear at the next succeeding term of the General Sessions for trial. The term of the Sessions commenced, and the day on which the indictment against Johnson was to be travers- ed arrived. It was the second day of the term, and by the time the Recorder and the Aldermen had taken theirplaces upon the bench, the court-room was crowded with spectators. Mr. Silkland had taken a seat within the bar, and as the court was ready to proceed with business. Counsellor Lashem entered the bar, bearing under his arm a bundle of indictments, so cumbrous that one might have supposed him proceeding to attend a ' ii THK MISTAKEN BRIDE. 163 I which 3rs, that me en- e made, ork, and ) caused table in deposi- he was ich they ral Ses- ]ictment , and he seceding e day on travers- , and by ,d taken crowded ,t within ed with bearing rous that attend a L Court of Chancery, rather than a General Sessions of the Peace. Upon entering the bar, Mr. Lashem drew out from his bundle of papers, an indictment, and was about to direct the crier to call Benjamin Johnson, when his eye fell on Mr. Silkland, to whom he said, " I am advised that you defend Mr. Johnson on this indictment. Are you ready for his trial, sir ?" " Ready, sir," replied Mr. Silkland ; and then beck- oned to Johnson, who was standing near by, without the bar, and directed him to take a seat beside him at the counsel's table. Counsellor Lashem now directed the crier to call Desdemona Simons ; and after her name had been cried several times with a voice like a stentor, exiting no small degree of interest among the spectators, who were eager to catch a glimpse of the fair one inquired for, a, person entered the bar and informed Mr. Lashem that the complainant and her witnesses were in attendance, ready to come into court when required. Counsellor Lashem then moved the court for a jury to try Benjamin Johnson on an indictment for bigamy. While the clerk was engaged in drawing a jury, Counsellor Lashem said to Mr. Silkland, " Sir, you had better advise your client to plead guilty to this indictment, and spare me the trouble of trying him ; i li fii V/A ill lir 164 THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. iV''; ,i: m} and then you may, perhaps, by so doing save him a year or two from the term of the penalty." " My client," answered Mr. Silkland, *' will want no mitigation of any penalty you can fix upon him by this trial." " His guilt, sir," replied Counsellor Lashem, " will be established beyond a doubt. The testimony against liim will be both positive and conclusive ; and, then, he ought to suffer for wronging so pretty a creature. Why, man ! the girl is quite a lady." " The girl may be a lady, for aught I know or care," responded Mr. Silkland, " but as to the testimony, you may change your mind after you have heard the de- fence." " Defence !" replied Counsellor Lashem. " Fudge ! your client can have no defence. When I shall close the proofs, my dear Silkland, you will not find ground to step the first foot of an argument upon — unless you are going to rely upon the rogue's usual defence, and attempt to prove an alibi, which signifies, as I sup- pose you know, a-lie-by." By this time, the drawing of the jury had been com- pleted, and having been accepted and sworn. Counsel- lor Lashem rose and opened the cause, by briefly stating to the court and jury the offence with which Johnson t ;t ! a a year want no him by ' will be against then, he Why, )r care » my, you the de- Fudge ! ill close ground less you ice, and I sup- m com- ounsel- '• stating Fohnson THE MISTAKEN BRIDB. 165 5tood charged, and the nature of the testimony he would I adduce to sustain the charge, which he assured the jurors would be so conclusive, as to leave in their minds no reasonable doubt of the prisoner's guilt. I Desdemona Simons, the complainant, was then called by Counsellor Lashem ; she came into court accompa- nied by Aunt Simons, and took her place upon the witnesses' stand. It will be unnecessary to give any farther description of her person and appearance on the occasion, than to say she was well dressed in the fashion of the day ; she wore a rich Leghorn hat, en cavalier^ and looked very much like a village belle. But Aunt Simons, who had taken a seat near her daughter, I must not pass so lightly. She, in spite of her age, which was something more than half a century, attracted the greater share of the attention of the spectators. Her person was somewhat under the common stature of females. She was strait as an arrow, and possessed a quick motion of the body, and moved with a rapid step. She was then shown off in a black lutestring dress, with tight sleeves and long skirt, in which there were plaited behind, as many breadths of silk as a Turk would have gathered in a pair of trousers. Her face was once comely, but the hand of time had made it as parch- ment-like in appearance as that of an Egyptian mummy. Her nose had been a little aquiline in its order, but then 'i 111 i \ ' .y% \% 166 THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. tm .'llr !3i'! ;i^ t si it seemed as hooked as a parrot's ; and above it her little dark eyes still twinkled with a moiety of that lustre with which they had glistened in an earlier day. Around her neck she wore a string of plain gold beads, which was the only ornament that adorned her person. With her, " the doors were shut in the street," as her teeth were entirely gone ; and this occasioned her lips to be very much compressed, and thereby to give her nose and chin a more than natural prominent appearance. Her hair was put back from her face — for over her brow " the almond tree had blossomed" — and her head was covered with a tight cap, over which she wore a little, stinted, quaker-fashioned, black silk bonnet, fitted snugly, and fastened close around her face and ears. Such was the figure and garb of Aunt Simons as she presented herself in court, beside her daughter. From Desta's countenance, while giving in her tes- timony, there was evidence of conflicting feelings within her bosom ; and it was difficult to determine what passions were most predominant in her mind — whether it was grief and sorrow, or pride and revenge. But Aunt Simons looked the very picture of revenge. After being sworn, Desta briefly deposed to the fact of her marriage, on the day specified in the indictment, to a Mr. Benjamin Johnson, whom she believed to be the accused, who was then at the bar. She said " she > THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. 167 ler little tre with Around J, which . With ?,r teeth ps to be ler nose earance. ler brow ead was 5 a little, I snugly, uch was resented her tes- feelings ine what whether ^e. But e. the fact ictment, ed to be lid " she was confident he was the same person ;" and at the suggestion of Mr. Silkland, Johnson stood up thit she might have a fair view of his person. She said " he was then dressed differently from any manner in which she had before seen him ; but she was sure — she could not be mistaken — she was positive he was the very same individual to whom she had been married." The marriage of Johnson to the wife with whom he then lived, some years previous to the time on which it was alleged he had been married to Desta, was duly admitted by him. Counsellor Lashem then called upon the stand the individual who had officiated at the mar- riage forming the ground of the complaint, and upon which was based the trial. This person was a minis- ter of one of the religious societies of the city of New- York, and he having been sworn, produced a book in which he testified he kept a registry of such marriages as were solemnized by him ; and in this book there appeared an entry, in the words and figures, following ; "New- York, 4th day of July, Anno Domini, 18 — . United in the holy bands of matrimony, Mr. Benjamin Johnson, gentleman, to Miss Desdemona Simons, spin- ster, both of — . Witnesses, &c." After producing his book of registry, the witness farther testified that he recollected having married par- ties on the day specified in his record, and that he V i 1 I ■ ¥ In' w- PI 1 1 -■; '- I. 168 THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. i«.v ;• :i '> i i i. t ' ', f;; believed that the complainant who sat near him, and the accused at the bar, were those parties he had so mar- ried. Upon the cross examination, " witness," said Mr. Silkland, "are you confident that this marriage you have testified to took place on the fourth day of July V " I am positive," replied the witness, " as I recollect marrying no such parties on any other day — nor have I any record in my register which allows me to believe I could be mistaken, as to the day." " Are you alike positive," asked Mr. Silkland, " that the complainant and the accused here, were the parties which you married on that day ?" " I am, if I can believe my senses," replied the wit- ness. A number of other persons who were present at the marriage, upon which was grounded the charge against Johnson, were called and sworn as witnesses on the part of the prosecution, and severally testified to the marriage, and the identity of the accused, in the most positive manner; and thereupon Counsellor Lashem rested the cause on the part of the prosecution. This state of the cause having brought a late hour in the afternoon, the court adjourned the proceedings until the next day. Upon the testimony already deposed, every juryman 1^1 ill' I and the so mar- aid Mr. age you f July f recollect lor have ) believe d, " that 3 parties the wit- It at the ) against on the 1 to the the most Lashem ) hour in ngs until juryman ' THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. 169 had made up his mind, and when they removed from their seats, they looked upon Johnson as a guilty man ; the court deemed his conviction unquestionable ; and among the spectators, who were many, there were but few who believed him innocent. The Luminary appeared the next morning, with a long article in reference to the trial, in which it was stated " that the testimony given against tho accused on the day previous had been so creditable in its cha- racter, and conclusive in its effect, that theru was left not a single doubt of his guilt — that for him to excul- pate himself of the charge was a matter of impossibility — that not even the fog which might be raised by his learned counsel could possibly so mistify the clear facts which were established against him, as to afford a hope of escape ; and if convicted," said the Luminary, " as he unquestionably will be, the court ought to inflict upon him the severest penalty of the law — as he is, no doubt, a hardened and practised offender ; for he has ap- peared, during the proceedings, an unmoved, unfeeling, heartless villain — for whom there is only one regret, and that is, that the law does not provide for him a more severe punishment ;" and the editor promised the public to issue an extra Luminary, containing a full and per- fect report of the proceedings, so soon as the trial should be closed. P ; f i\ ft ^ 1 170 THE MISTAKL IIOJEj ry\ ■\lTi: Am V. r ^:i'! i-H:^ ■*i if The Pm>fe was, also, out, and prorvounced Johnsoil " guilty ! guilty ! ! guilty ! ! !" Its editor was suffused with tears for the young lady who had been made a victim, as he alleged, of Johnson's villany ; and afford* ed the readers of his paper a long dissertation on the enormity of the offence. It seemed that the editors of the Luminary and the Pink had no idea of the impropriety of a course which was calculated to deprive the accused of an impartial determination of his case, by producing a bias of the public mind. It appeared that their only bent was to grease the wheels of the law, regardless of justice, and to make their papers sell, though they might send an innocent man to the state prison. With the public, there had become an excitement, and Johnson's case was made almost the sole topic of conversation ; and for twenty-four hours never was a poor fellow more cut and carved. The members of the Magdalen society, also, took the matter into considera- tion, and having investigated it to their own satisfaction, pronounced him one of the worst of seducers ; nor did they stop there, but got up a memorial to the legislature, praying for a law to punish adultery as a criminal of- fence. This move, however, had no other effect than to influence, for the moment, the already excited public mind. For the legislators were entirely out of the reach of the excitement and its influence, and they had seen THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. 171 the women of Greece, without laws to preserve them, shining pure and chaste as the marble from their moun- tains ; while in Spain, with laws providing the penalties of the felon for the adulterer, chastity has not even a name among the women of the country ; and therefore they could not believe the subject a proper one for le- gislation, and so, leaving the matter to be regulated by the good sense of the people, they laid the memorial on the table, where I believe it sleeps to thib day. 1, CHAPTER XII. THE DENOUEMENT, Bless me ! your beard is of amazing growth ! And how came you to keep away so long 1 Are you not sensible 'twas very wrong 1 Are you now really, truly , now a Turk 1 With any other woman did you wivel — Byron. On the second day of the trial, the court opened with a full house, if I may use the language applicable to the theatre. At in early hour, the Recorder and Aldermen were on ;he bench, the jurors took their seats in their box, and the lawyers were in their places and ready to go on with the proceedings. The list of witnesses for the prosecution being called. Aunt Simons and her daughter appeared, and assumed the station, near the bench, they had occupied the day previous, m:. i<;if ll!|tt 172 THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. i n ,K • at' •,i ,. ii As Mr. Silkland rose to state the defence, one of the jurors remarked to his fellow " that he did not conceive what the gentleman could find to say in behalf of his client." The Recorder inquired if he intended to occupy the attention of the court and jury with a long speech ? " It seems," said the Recorder, " the case hardly war- rants it." " Silkland has but an up-hill business," said a brother lawyer. " Yes, ' replied a physician, who had smuggled him- self into the bar, " his arguments must be like physic for a dead man." Mr. Silkland began his address ; but while he was commenting upon the testimony which had been ad- duced on the part of the prosecution, the Recorder was consulting with the Aldermen in relation to the amount of pimishment to be inflicted upon his client ; nor did any one appear to heed his remarks, until he said — " But, notwithstanding this apparently unmoveable mass of testimony deposed against my client, and the respec- tability of the witnesses by which it has been given, gentlemen of the jury, I shall nevertheless now be able to prove to you by witnesses equally respectable, and who possess known characters for truth and veracity, that on the day on which it has been alleged my client I I :i'-V THE MISTAKEN BRIDE. 173 was married to this woman, within this city, that he was then abseat from the city, having left the day pre- vious, and that he did not return until the day after this marriage complained of is alleged to have taken place ; I and, however strange it may appear, I shall be able to establish what I state to you, gentlemen, by such num- bers of witnesses as will satisfy you, as well as all who witness these proceedings, that my client is not guilty of the offence with which he has been charged." The attention of the court and jury having been ob- tained by Mr. Silkiand, and having completed the state- ment of tho defence, he then commenced calling wit- nesses on the part of his client. The first whom he brought on to the stand was a genteel-looking young man, who had been a clerk for the accused ; who being sworn, testified, " that, on the third day of July, Johnson had left the city in company with a party of ladies and gentlemen for an excursion in the country, the carriages for which he had furnished — that he was absent from the city the whole of the fourth of July, and did not return until late on the fifth." The witness also produced a book which he testified *' was an account- book, or book of common entry, kept by Johnson, in which there appeared charges against a number of gentlemen for the hire of carriages and horses on those r i^1 I;.. A ■If'. 'I, < 2 nv^ rv ■^ 6^ '<^ LINES, Addressed to a f^oor swain, who^ while suffering ifl the indescribable condition of an unrequited lover^ wrote a whole dozen stanzas to his lady love, whom he charged with having given him what the country girls call the mitten! In his bill of complaint he had fairly stated his case, which was truly a hard one, and era- braced good grounds for reliefs — but, then, his prayer, tvhich was that " his incontinent fair one should suffer unrequited love in return," was a matter altogether irre* levant, and could not be entertained hy the court of Cupid. Had the lady read his attempt at poesy, I think she would have said, in the words of the player, " go, poor devil, and hang thyself!'* But I believe my advice is more benignant. Oh, sorrow not if love's unkind, For maids will all capricious be : A coquette's flirting never mind. For you may ever know that she— -« Will love another. LINES ADDRESSED TO A POOR SWAIN. 185 suffering ed lover, (^hom be itry girls ad fairly ind era- ' prayer, d suffer iier irre* f Cupid. ink she ^o, poor Ivice is Though fascinating accents fell Fast from her lips of roseate hue, Grieve not, because youVe heard her tell That ^^ she could never fancy you — But loved another. ^^ Though her eyes, with radiance bright, And warm with love, did beam on thee : Scorn to lament, poor luckless wight. That she could so bewitching be — And love another. Thy love was sincere, thou hast said. And in return — asked but her hand : A fair proposal to the niaid ! But sure, that were a great demand — She loved another. Her love was all thy hope of bliss. And thou didst place thy heav'n in her : Then, let me, friend, advise you this. That if she's false, thy heav'n transfer — And love another. Why call ye on her head a curse— Of Cupid's realm, 'gainst all the laws — And from her bosom peace disperse. With unrequited love, because — She loved another ? Q3 \\ .1. *! I. !! THE FALSE MAIDEN. I A LOVERS ODE. 'Twas when the bhize, And golden rays, Of the bright orb — far in the West, Just tinged the skies, With scarlet dies, We met — and then with hope were blest. In twilight hour, The budding flower. Gave fragrance to the evening air ; We walked the grove. And talked of love, And she, I thought, as heav'n, was fair. Her charming grace- Angelic face. Beaming love with radiance bright ; Her sylph-like form— Her bosom warm, * Impressed my heart with deep delight. THE FALSE MAIDEN. Then oaths were said, And vows were made, And sealed upon her ruby lip : To snatch one kiss, 'Twere greater bliss, Than taste the nectar gods do sip. Who'd then believe, She would deceive — That she could ever heartless be ? But light as air, (The wretch— though fair,) Was ail her love professed for me. 187 } 1 1 ' IM it V 'I !■ •' I, J .^^, ■ it ,1 » m m % ' t THE LAWYER'S APOLOGY. I r 1', The investment of other persons, than such as have been bred to the profession of the law, with the office of Judge, I believe, is seldom, if ever, attended with any very good results, although such preferments are com- mon in most of the states of the Union. The appointment of farmers and mechanics to pre- side in courts of law, there to determine legal questions upon the arguments of counsel, the points of which, (as it would occur in most cases,) they had not heard or thought of, until brought to their mind by the arguments adduced at the moment they are called upon to decide I — or, to give instructions to jurors, who are themselves as capable, (and oftentimes much more so,) of arriving at correct conclusions, as the judges of such kind, it would seem, could hardly be regarded by people of observing and reflective minds otherwise than as an evil and ridiculous judiciary arrangement. It has been supposed the duty of the judges composing the bench of a court, to give a character to the bar — but 4 (• « i Y. 1 as have the office . with any are com- es to pre- questions vhich, (as heard or arguments , to decide hemselves arriving at 1, it would observing L evil and composing e bar— but The LAWYER'S APOLOGY. 189 Under the present judiciary arrangement of our country, it would seem to be expected that the members of the bar will give a character to the bench ; and this some- times happens, as my story tells. At a time still within the remembrance of the young", there were of the judges of the Court of Common Pleas of the county of N , in the state of New-York, of which B was then the county town, a Farmer, a Shoemaker J and a Tavern-keeper. These men^ though they had for many years held the high honours and sta- tions of judges of the county courts, had in no manner gained a reputation either for learning or clearness of discernment — or for the correctness of their decisions of legal questions. They were, all three of them, never- theless, " very good men," as they were called, " who always meant to do right." But he who knew the judges, and could see through them, readily perceived that though the Farmer might understand and be capable of deciding the proper sort of grain or produce to be cul- tivated in any one of his fields — the legal bearing of a question was never within his ken ; and of the relevancy or irrelevancy of a question to a matter at issue before him he had no faculty to determine : that notwithstand- ing the Shoemaker could do good work on the seat, he was of no use on the bench : and that although the Tavern- keeper was a good judge of ru9n and brandy, ho was no hm THK lawyer's .apology. 193 .838. inform of this I was f hay, I ic there y soon ; ;• to peti- tioped I [ can get support^ link you a judge, r ; for I hen, you All are man's — my how, e, (and I Ejry great 1 always It, » " P. S. If you can't get me appointed a judge, got me the office of collector on the Rail-road, or some other office which will be as good." Having pocketed this literary morceau, and arranged my travelling effects, I disposed of myself in bed, and in a brief moment was lost in sweet forgetfulness. My repose, however, had been but short, when I was awa- kened by the clatter of steps, and the sound of voices ; and in a moment three persons came into my room. Two of the individuals were somewhat uproarous, giving vent to very frequent bursts of laughter, of which the third seemed to be the provoker ; and I had had scarce time allowed me to turn in my bed, when I was quietly seized by this individual, and unceremoniously brought out upon my feet — and the " God bless you," and the " how are you, my dear — ?" with which I was greeted, assured me I was in the company of a former acquaintance and friend. By him I was compelled again to put on my dress, and join himself and party, who were the occupants of the apartment in which I had been installed, in a proposed jollification ; and before I had completed the enrobing of my person, a table in the room was loaded with choice liquors and substantial re- freshments. In this collation I was made to become a participant; and while our cups were filled and R If . « ii 194 THK lawyer's APOI.OQY. <. »!■ ' ':,> iR* emptied, hilarity prevailed, and many an anecdote and story of " former times" were related. As a matter of joke, I charged my friend with a breach of faith with his correspondents — and to substantiate the charge, I pro- duced the letter I had abstracted from the stove, which bore his address. " The blockhead" — said he — " what could move the old fool to think of filling the seat of a judge ? That letter exhibits a fair specimen of the man's intellect and capacity — and yet he has bored me almost to death to recommend him for appointment to the office of judge, a station he is no more capable of filling than one of the animals he drives in his team." " Don't be so severe," said one of the others of the company, who, as well as my friend, had been a mem- ber of the bar of the state of New- York : and then he continued, " our friend has a peculiar dislike to all unlegal judges. On one occasion his contempt for such things was very fully expressed, as I remember. By his permission I will tell the story." This was consented to ; and the gentleman began : — " Among the early settlers of the county of N , in the state of New-York, there were two individuals who had emigrated together from one of the eastern states. They had taken up lots of land adjoining each other, and resided thereon for a number of years on terms of «n and fledy and dead. ion of the rette distin- mes' River. The tyrant dead — the Bourbons gone, Freedom ! — the cry — prostrate the throne ! But anarchy assumed the sway, And deep revenge marked out her way. Blood flowed from the guillotine — France shook with terror, Fierce passions ruled there — all was madness and error : Thy voice cried for mercy — then — ^but in vain. And gained thee — at Olmutz — a cell and a chain. A century's half — now passed away, Has shown full many a battle's fray On Europe's shore — both lost, and won — By the first great Napoleon. Once more is France convulsed, the clarion sounds afar, Freemen assume their arms — and " three days wage a war : ?> Lafayette commands again — behold the tyrants' fall ! The last by thee — the best and brightest deed of all. The preceding stanzas were composed on reading an account of the " three days in July" — the success of the French Revolution in 1830 — and the appointment of the patriot Lafayette to the command of the National Guatda of Paris. S lii L ', .il! M m m \, : IIPIPI 1 tHsB ' IlKf " *. ' rl^ HI Isf ' ' . 11 W- * ■ Hh III ;. ill i ^r- j 11 1: i, t 11 I ijll 9 i ■i, p if lis t; ' MM Iffl 11'; 1 LUCK AND ILL LUCK; OR, WOMAN WON BY GALLANTRY. There is perhaps no portion of the continent of North America, so profusely bcspottcd with small lakes, as the peninsula lying between Lake Michigan, which bounds it on the west, and Lake Erie, Lake St. Clair, and Lake Huron, which, together with the rivers form- ing the chain of connecting water courses between those lakes, and the outlet of Michigan, form its bounds on the north and east, and in which is comprised the principal and only settled part of the state of Michigan. These little lakes, or ponds of fresh water, are found scattered over the whole interior of the state, spreading out in every conceivable variety of size and shape. Some of them extending to nine or ten miles in length, with a breadth of from one to two miles ; while others have a more circular or compact form, with less extent ; and many containing an area of no more than a few acres. These isolated bodies of water are, in general, limpid, and in many instances, brilliantly transparent. They aboimd with a great variety of fish, such as perch. LUCK AND ILL LUCK, &C. 207 TRY. It of North L lakes, as ;an, which St. Clair, ivers form- ween those iinds on the 'incipal and These little Lttered over It in every ne of them h. a hreadth ive a more and many res. jral, limpid, 3nt. They . as perch, pickerel, bass, and sun fish — and many other kinds of the finny tribe may be taken from them in abundance ; and although their shores are mostly low, and without rocky precipices, steep banks, or eminences affording any very romantic or imposing prospect — yet they give a gratifying diversity to the face of the country — and fur- nish many truly delightful building sites, which have much of nature's loveliness and pleasing scenery around them — and some of these sites are already occupied with splendid mansions. In the winter of 18 — , I travelled across a portion of the state of Michigan, from P to A , in a private conveyance, accompanied by a gentleman who then re- sided in that state. The road on this route passed along the shores of many of the little lakes I have described. As we approached one of them, containing an area of some two or three miles, there appeared in view a very handsome wooden mansion, delightfully situated upon its bank, with gardens, orchards, and cleared fields of some extent surrounding it. *^ A delightful situation," I remarked to my com- panion, " and a happy fellow it must be, that enjoys such a lovely portion of the earth." " He is all of that," was the reply ; " and the manner in which he came in possession of it, is among the ex» traordinary incidents of life." , I' i A r , ^os I I I 1 1 1 . I s I A I n I ^1 ' I > I LUCK AND ILL LUCK ; " Pray give us the story," said I ; and to do so my companion consented. " It is now twelve years," began he, " since I came into Michigan. This county was then an entire wilder- ness, affording only a range for the deer and a hunting ground for the Indian. The cabin I then put up on my lots was the second or third one erected in the county. A few months after I had got it up and moved my family into it, I came over on to these lots for the purpose of hunting for deer along the shores of the lakes, and while ranging here, I fell in with the man who made these improvements and built this house. He was then taking a look at the lots, as he said, with a view to enter them — and in a few months afterward he came on with liis family, which consisted of a wife and one daughter, and one or two hired men. He took up three quarter-sec- tions of land, and threw up a little cabin near where this house stands — and his clearings were made to spread out in every direction, until they became in extent as you see these improvements ; and then the log cabin was made to give place to this mansion. Of the man but little was known, except that his name was Smith, that he had been engaged in the mercantile busi- ness somewhere at the east, had failed, and with a trifle saved from the wreck of his property had emigrated to this territory, [now state]. For many years, this situa- ■.:^ OR, WOMAN WON BY GALLANTRY, 209 do so my ;e I came e wilder- a hunting up on my le county. my family purpose of and while ado these iien taking 3nter them n with liis ighter, and iiarter-sec- ear where 8 to spread extent as ) log cabin . Of the name was mtile busi- dth a trifle nigrated to this situa- tion was considered n mote, and Mr. Smith employed himself so n flustriously in making improvements, that he formed but a very limited acquaintance with the people who settled in the vicinity ; and just as he had completed his house, he was taken ill with a fever and died ; leaving his wife executrix, and she and his daugh- ter sole legatees of this property. The girl, at the time of the death of her father, had got well in her teens — and was in person of more than ordinary comely appearance — and soon after her parent's decease, she came much in notice with the young men who were wanting wives — as well as good farms. " From her numerous suitors. Miss Smith, at length, selected one, to whom she plighted her hand, and the time for the nuptials was fixed. With the proposed union of her daughter, the mother was well pleased, and made every possible preparation to give a becoming entertainment to their friends on the marriage occasion. Then, the wedding day arrived, and the guests were there. It had been arranged that the intended bride and groom, with their friends, should drive down to A , and have the nuptial ceremonies performed by a clergyinan residing at that place, and then return to partake of the wedding supper with the mother. The girl was arrayed in her bridal dress, and at the hour ap- pointed, was handed into their carriage, and seated by S3 I ! I v. i V i \\\ ' 'i I i] a^ ^10 LUCK AND ILL LUCK ; the side of her intended partner — when, as they were ready to drive off, the young man, that was to be the happy one, put his horse in motion, with a view to get into the road, but the animal became frightened, sprang off from the track and down the bank, with his head directed toward the opposite side of the lake. The young man sprung upon his feet, the better to rein in the horse, but fell out of the carriage, headlong to the ground — and the horse plunged into the water with the carriage, which, by good luck, floated like a skiff. The girl kept her place in the carriage, and cried for help, but no help was given ; while the horse was putting out from the shore. Such was the situation of the girl, with the horse and carriage. The intended bride-groom had picked himself up, and was busily occupied in brushing off the mud from his person. The remainder of the company had dismounted from their carriages, but only stood looking on, as most people do who go to a fire — for the water was cold, and none of them seem- ed inclined to risk their lives, or to hazard the de- struction of their dresses, in order to rescue the girl ; and the mother, on beholding the jeopardy of her daugh- ter, had become almost distracted with fright — ^when a foot-traveller, with a valise in his hand, made his ap- pearance in the road. The moment he beheld the girl in her dangerous condition, he dropped his valise, and > OR, WOMAN WON BY GALLANTRY. 211 ley were o be the ew to get dj sprang his head e. The rein in ng to the with the iff. The for help, IS putting f the girl, ide-groom cupied in remainder carriages, who go to lem seem- d the de- the girl ; ler daugh- — when a ie his ap- Id the girl alise, and plunged into the water for her rescue ; and by swim- ming, he got ncstr the head of the horse, and seized hold of one of the reins, which had fallen upon a piece of ice that floated along with it and kept it from sink- ing. By pulling the rein, the stranger turned the horse's head toward the shore at the place where he had plunged in, and finally succeeded in leading him out with the carriage, and placed the girl upon the ground, safe among her friends, who, with her lover, were truly rejoiced at her safe delivery from the danger in which she had been placed ; and they were then ready to ex- tend to her every attention that could be offered. " The time of the occurrence of these matters was late in November ; the weather was very cold, suid some considerable ice had been formed around the shores of the lake ; consequently, the stranger, who had rescued the girl, found himself very much chilled by the drench of cold water — and then, the piercing at- mosphere he was subjected to. The mother, who was in ecstacy at the rescue of her daughter, invited him immediately into their house, where he was furnished with dry clothing and a bed. " The carriage of the intended bride-groom had been injured in no material part, and after everything out of order had been replaced, it was proposed by him to the intended bride, then to proceed to the village for the consummation oi their marriage. But, the girl positively f h'.i 212 LUCK AND ILL LUCK ; I'-j. refused, saying — ' she should attend to no nuptial cere- monies, until she was sure that her deliverer was out of danger from any injury he might have received from the adventure' — and no urging of the young man, back- ed by his friends, could induce the girl to proceed. The mother neither entreated her daughter to go, nor did she object, but left her to decide upon her own course ; and the company were dismissed — and the intended bride- groom returned to his home. <* The stranger, who was something less than thirty years gentlemanly in manners, and of prepossess- ing appearance, was found on the morrow to have taken a fever, and to bo so ill that the attendance of a physician was required ; and it was then discovered that he had received several severe bruises from the horse, while making exertions to get him out of the water. This indisposition of the stranger continued for a number of days, although every attention and care that could be given was bestowed upon him by the mother and her daughter. '* During this time, all mention of her marriage with her former lover was forbidden by the girl ; and she never spoke of him but with contempt ; and long before the stranger had recovered from his illness, it was whis- pered about among the settlers, that there had been formed a reciprocal attachment between him and Miss iSmith } and on bis final restoration to health, to him OR, WOMAN WON BY GALLANTRY, 213 al cere- ivas out ed from n, back- i. The : did she rse ; and d bride - m thirty )possess- to have nee of a scovered from the ut of the tinned for and care n by the iage with and she mg before was whis" had been and Miss ihttQ him Miss Smith gave her hand ; and he is now the master of this establishment." As my companion concluded his story, we arrived near the door of the house where was the scene of the adventure he had been relating. The road passed very near the door, and as we were opposite, a gentleman came out and walked toward us. " That is the happy fellow," said my companion, " of whom I have been speaking." As the gentleman came up, he accosted me famil- liarly by name, and I instantly recognized in him a for- mer acquaintance. Some years past I had known him in one of the eastern cities of the United States, as a clerk in a mercantile house ; then as a merchant in business for himself, in which he failed. He then set up an office as a broker and vender of lottery tickets. But his luck was not in lotteries, and he was too honest to gain by the business of a broker, and consequently failed the second time. The gentleman had then taken his small wardrobe in a valise, and started to seek his fortune in the far west. His purse was a very light one for travelling ; and when he had arrived at Detroit it had become altogether too small for the payment of stage fare, and so with his valise ' i his hand, he had started from Detroit to foot it across the country. The rest is told. STANZAS. -I t H n ;^ ^i ^i! i J. An infant slumbered on its mother's breast ; Most lovely 'twas — and cherub-like in form ; And as the fond parent its clear face pressed With her sweet lips — and gave it kisses warm, It seemed a gem — all perfect and all blessed, Wrapped in the purest robe of earthly charm ; But death smote it — and in that very hour, He showed its beauty was a fading flower ! II. There was a woman, who did hearts beguile ; For she was all of splendour that is known ; She had eyes of azure and lips of red — while Youth lasted — and grief had no wrinkles sown ; And with the blushing cheek and playful smile, Mantled the brightest graces — all her own : But then, she, when old time began to lower, Soon found, her beauty was a fading flower ! III. And, there was placed above the common crowd, A man — most noble, and of high renown ; He was decked with medals— ^and as he bowed, They gave to him honour's glorious crown — And called him great. So spoke the trumpet loud- Till a new favourite came and put him down ! Thus proving honour, in spite of all power, Like glorious beauty — a fading flower ! i TO THE FIRST FLAKE OF SNOW Written in November. >rm; 3d warm, ed, harm : ile ; ►wn; bile 3 sown ; jmile, wn: ^er, r! crowd, n; owed, iwn — ipet loud- down I er. I. With a cloud for thy cat, Thou com'st on the wind— From lands distant and far, Where tliou wert confined. O'er thy track no command is When listing to stray ; From the peaks of the Andes, Hast thou fled away 1 Or, from Greenland's rugged shore, Amid the whirlwind's ceaseless roar— From cheerless coast of Labradore, Come thou, to climes more free, to soar 1 II. When the landscapes were green, Oh ! where wast thou then ? By no eye could'st be seen — Away from my ken : But, now, thou com'st forth With clear wings of light, On the breeze of the north, Both sparkling and bright. r 1 i 1 216 TO THE riRST FLAKE SNOW. A fairer gem, no eye shall see, With brilliant glow, to rival thee : ; And pure as maiden's kne can be^ Thy charms are blighted, soon as she. III. O^er mountains and seas, Now far from thy home — Through the frost withered trees. There gayly to roam ; Like a p^ar in the sky. Glistening in storm, is displayed to the eye, Thy beauteous form. But ah ! how soon, thy glory's o'er ; To earth but touch — thou aft seen no more,, The fate of all that came before, Is thiae- — " to fell and rise no more." THE ENI^ ,0. mm '^M^km^i 'fea;'^-V'' ii^;4i' a; "H t ^jtfffi . m i>ts- -4 - 1 «.>i r , 11- iit. -ST- *fi f 1 ' ,!■ i ■i i* t .■=fv„s*»^..>'« «-.:'^i *;m»?,1'*«***»«««»A*«''