On Wednesday evening the 1st inst. by the Rev. Dr. Linn, Mr. WILLIAM W.
GALATIAN, to the amiable Miss CATHARINE BROWER, daughter of Mr. John
Brower, all of this city.
Same evening, by the Rev. Dr. Linn, Mr. PETER VORHISS to the amiable
Mrs. NANCY SMITH, widow of Joseph Smith, deceased, both of this city.
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_METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS._
_From the 26th ult. to the 4th inst._
_Thermometor observed at 6, A.M. 3, P.M._
_Prevailing winds._
_OBSERVATIONS on the WEATHER._
deg. deg. 6. 3. 6. 3.
100 100
Feb. 26 16 23 nw. w. clr. h. w. Aurora Boralis*.
27 38 47 s. sw. cloudy lt. wd. do. do.
28 34 35 nw. w. cloudy lt. wd. do. do.
March 1 22 35 nw. do. clear lt. wind. do. h. wd.
2 24 37 ne. se. clear lt. wind. cloudy do.
3 33 42 ne. sw. sn at ni. clou. lt. wd. do.
4 38 49 50 s. sw. cloudy lt. wd. clear do.
* * * * *
RESULTS OF METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.
FOR FEBRUARY 1797.
deg. 100
Mean temperature of the thermometer at sun-rise 32 9
Do. do. of the do. at 3 P.M. 41 2
Do. do. for the whole month 36 55
Greatest monthly range between the 24th and 26th 41 0
Do. do. in 24 hours, the 26th & 27th 22
Warmest day the 24th 57 0
Coldest do. the 26th 16
14 days the Mercury was at or below frost, at sunrise.
4 do. it was at or below frost at sunrise and at 3 P.M.
7 do. it rained, and a large quantity has fallen this month.
1 day it snowed, and 2 inches and a-half has fallen.
17 do. the wind was at the westward of north and south.
11 do. the do. was at the eastward of do. and do.
16 do. the do. was light at sunrise and 3 P.M.
4 do. the do. was high at do. and do.
13 do. it was clear at do. and do.
12 do. it was cloudy at do. and do.
[* On the 26th a remarkable appearance of the Aurora Boralis in the
evening at the north point: its appearance changed several times,
and at length collected to a Piremidical form and disappeared.]
* * * * *
* * * *
_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._
* * *
_THE DEBTOR._
“Ah! little know’st thou who ne’er has tri’d,
“What pain it is in prison long to ’bide;
“To lose whole days, that might be better spent,
“To pine whole nights in anxious discontent;
“To speed to day, to be put back to-morrow;
“To flush with Hope, to pine with care and sorrow.”
Transposed from COWLEY.
Two long, long years are gone and past,
Since from the pitch of affluence cast;
With Friends, Fame, Fortune out of date,
Eugenio moans his hapless fate:
Like the poor Starling in his cage,
He fluttering spends his idle rage;
And all his cry, and all his rout,
Is, Well-a-day! I can’t get out.
Friend to the Muse, alas! no more
His fancy roves in classic lore;
His senses flag, his eyes grow blind,
And a chill torpor cramps his mind.
Like the poor Starling in his cage,
He fluttering spends his idle rage;
And all his cry, &c.
What, though when war and tumult rag’d,
His country all his soul engag’d;
No trace is left, no record sav’d,
Of what, to save a state, he brav’d:
Like the poor Starling in his cage,
He’s doom’d to pine, to fret, to rage;
And all his cry, &c.
Did want, or merit claim a friend,
He knew to serve, to give, or lend;
But out of cash and out of place,
His former friends forget his face!
Like the poor Starling in his cage,
Lonesome he sits and vents his rage;
And all his cry, &c.
No more the sun’s all chearing ray,
Ope’s to his view the blush of day;
The day is dreary as the night,
And a sad darkness clouds the sight:
Like the poor Starling in his cage,
In doleful plaints he spends his rage;
And all his cry, &c.
At eve with gnawing care opprest,
His weary eye-lids ache for rest;
Then clanking chains above him roll,
And sobs, and wailings pierce his soul.
Like the poor Starling in his cage,
He counts each tedious hour an age;
And all his cry, &c.
When in his arms his infant train,
Their little woes and wants explain,
The trickling tear, and sigh supprest,
Betray the anguish of his breast:
’Till like the Starling in his cage,
His throbbing bosom bursts with rage;
And all his cry, &c.
Sometimes in dreams he wings his flight,
And roves in regions of delight;
When (sad reverse!) the Watchman’s noise,
Dispels his Visionary Joys:
Then like the Starling in his cage,
He starts, and flutters round in rage:
And all his cry, &c.
And is there then no Hope in Laws?
No generous Friends to urge his cause?
Ah! no:--his Friends have not the time,
And DEBT, you know’s the GREATEST CRIME.
Thus like the Starling in his cage,
He moulders on to life’s last stage;
And all his cry, and all his rout
Is, Well-a-day! I can’t get out.
* * * * *