“Hope, sweetest child of fancy born,
Tho’ transient as the dew of morn;--
Thou who canst charm with sound and light,
The deaf’n’d ear, and dark’n’d sight;
And in dry deserts glad the swains,
With bubbling rills and cultur’d plains.
No more invent thy airy schemes,
Nor mock me with fantastic dreams---
No more thy idle stories tell,
Deceitful prattler--Hope farewell!”
“The evening was uncommonly serene when I wandered from my cottage to
enjoy its balmy sweetness, the distant hum of the busy villagers
retiring from their various occupations, just stole upon my ear, and
made me reflect on the happiness of our English peasants, and that a
life of industry was a life of peace, since it kept the mind employed,
and prevented the thoughts from wandering beyond the boundaries of
virtue.
“I raised my eyes to the bright firmament where joys eternal are
treasured for the righteous--I considered that millions of celestial
beings might at that moment be hovering over my head, and joining in
responsive hallelujahs before the throne of the Almighty, Milton’s
beautiful lines occurred to me--
“Then crown’d again their golden harps they took,
Harps ever tun’d that glitt’ring by their side
Like quivers hung, and with preamble sweet,
Of charming symphony, they introduce
The sacred song, and waken raptures high,
No one exempt, no voice but well could join,
Melodious part, such concord in heaven.”
“I was roused from my meditations by a piteous voice, demanding the aid
of charity, I looked at the object, he was a worn out veteran, the
remnant of a shabby scarlet coat hung over his feeble limbs, he carried
a wallet, no great load indeed, a mouldy crust of bread, too hard for
decaying jaws of age. I felt for his misery, I pitied the misfortunes of
that man, whose arm had assisted in defending my country from the
rapacity of its enemies. He told me a tale of woe, and his cheek was
moistened in relating it. Alas! poor old man, cried I, you have not been
exempt from the common lot; but cheer up my soldier, the manly heart,
while it trusts in heaven, should never be deprest, but the anguish of
poverty has weakened courage. Come, cried I, taking him by the arm, we
have both been veterans, though in different ways, labour should now
cease, age requires a relaxation from toil, we are both swiftly gliding
down the vale of years, let us endeavour to make the passage easy, we
will retire to my little cottage, its doors have never yet refused
admittance to the stranger, seated by the humble fire-side, we will
recount our tales of old, and cheer our hearts with a draught of are,
administered by the cherub hands of my Patty. We ascended the hill
together which led to my lowly mansion, nature had sweetly decked it
with the choicest verdure. As I ascended the hill, I wondered at not
beholding my Patty; it was her custom, when prevented to attend my
rambles, to watch my return, seated on the little green turf beside the
door. As I entered I called her, but received no answer, my surprise
increased---I seated my humble guest, and went in search of her, I tapt
at her chamber door, still all was silent---melancholy presages rushed
upon me, I attempted to open the door, weak and trembling my hand fell
by my side, and my heart smote against my breast, I recollected myself,
and wondered what had excited such fears in me---they now died away like
the shadows of the night, I entered the chamber, but my child was not
there, a folded paper lay on her little dressing table, I hastily
snatched it up and perused it, a deep groan was wrung from me by
agonizing pangs, and I fell senseless on the floor, my fall reached the
veteran’s ears, he hurried to my assistance, gratitude inspired his poor
unfortunate bosom, and he endeavoured to aid me, he recalled me to life,
ah! mistaken kindness, the gloomy recesses of the grave were alone fit
for me. I started from his arms, I raved aloud upon the name of Patty.
Whither art thou gone, my child? I cried. The paper lay before me,
I imagined it all a dream, I strained my glimmering sight to read the
words of horror it contained:
“Oh my father, I fly from you, incapable of witnessing the shame and
sorrow I have drawn upon you, I fly from you, a stranger to peace and
bereft of innocence, the wiles of Mordaunt have undone me, I leave you
forever!”
“Perfidious villain, to blast my only comfort! With some degree of
resignation I could have consigned my child to death, the idea she was
gone spotless to the bosom of her creator, would have calmed the sorrows
of my soul, but to have her seduced by a monster, her fair form, her
virtue for ever blasted, oh! ’twas agony insupportable, she was
consigned to me by the wife on whom I doated; my Emily was an angel
before she left this world, prepared for the mandate which called her
hence, adorned with every charm of beauty and goodness, with her last
sigh, she grieved forth the united names of child and husband, the
cypress which shaded her grave was oftener watered by my tears, than by
the dews of heaven; Patty was the darling of my eye, the blooming
resemblance of her departed mother, she was sincere, artless, and
unsuspecting as credulity itself, she became acquainted with her
seducer, in our neighborhood he was affluent, young and elegant, beneath
the mask of friendship and generosity, he concealed a mind deceitful and
vicious, he admired the beauty of my child, he gained her affections,
and rendered her forgetful of my early precepts, she fled, afraid to see
the person whose hopes she had blasted, fled from the arms which would
have sheltered her against the contumely of the world.
“I turned to the soldier, I beheld his tears of sympathy; he had seen
troops destroyed, individuals fall beneath the ruthless sword of an
enemy, but he had never beheld a lovely daughter, tempted from the arms
of an idolizing parent. I will go in search of my child, I exclaimed, he
offered his withered arm to support me, we descended the hill together.
At the bottom I stopt, my emotions were to be compared to those which
our first parents felt when driven from the garden of Eden. The cottage
on the hill was once the scene of all my bliss with Emily, it was sacred
because she resided in it; I have felt an enthusiasm of pleasure in
walking through those paths in which she had trod, I wept, oh earth!
I cried, where are thy joys, thy comfort? Alas! How fallible, how
fleeting all thy blessings! I hurried on, the soldier followed me. We
wandered to various cottages, still the answer was repeated, they had
not seen such passengers as we described, travelling shortly exhausted
our little stock of money, in a few days shelter was refused us, we
crept under a hedge, and the rain wet our grey locks. The soldier
murmured his regret, it was hard, he said, he had served his country
faithfully, yet its ungrateful inhabitants barred their doors against
him. Be comforted, my companion, I cried, consider what the Saviour of
mankind has said, “the sparrows have their nests and the beasts their
dens, but the son of man has not wherewithal to lay his head.” And shall
we after so glorious an example, repine at not receiving shelter from a
few miserable wretches.”
(_To be concluded in our next._)
* * * * *
ESSAY on the Conduct of Men toward the FAIR SEX.
Every generous man should view the sentiments and actions of the fair
sex in the most favourable light. I can ascribe the contrary practice to
nothing but an unmanly spirit, since, in many cases, those guilty of it
cannot vindicate themselves confidently with the laws of delicacy.
Nature has made man the protector; and the fair sex require his
protection: he who should refuse this, when necessary, would be
reproached with cowardice; and much more if he should take advantage of
their weakness. But is not he who injures a woman’s character, to be
esteemed as great a coward as he who assaults her person? Certainly he
is: the former is an insult on the modesty, and the latter upon the
natural weakness of the sex.
There is but one way in which we can suppose a lady may vindicate
herself from a false imputation, and that is by the tenor of her
actions. But then, how liable are actions to be misconstrued! When once
a slanderous tongue has given the clue, the world will be too apt to
ascribe every thing to a wrong principle; even the candid are sometimes
misled, and form suspicions which their honour would otherwise have
prevented.
The practice of viewing the female conduct in an unfavourable light,
subjects the sex to many disadvantages, which I have observed in the
course of my acquaintance.
Flattery is a fashionable snare to entangle female vanity; and I know of
no method more successful, when a man is disposed to put an unfavourable
construction upon every thing he sees. If it is received with applause,
with what satisfaction does the base deceiver congratulate himself upon
his success! Hence some ladies, to avoid all such appearances, shew
themselves displeased when they are attacked in this way; but alas! they
succeed no better than the former; for it is easy enough for the
confident fellow to console himself with this reflection, that the vain
creature takes the compliment almost before it was intended.
* * * * *
* * * *
For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+.
* * *
To Mr. MICHAEL DE MARIBUS,
In answer to his Grammatical Epistle addressed
to _Miss_ SALLY SYNTAX.