Democratic Telegraph and Texas Register (Houston, Tex.), Vol. 15, No. 4, Ed. 1, Thursday, January 17, 1850 Page: 2 of 4
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,w- ROUGET DE -LISLE. -
A LEAF FE02I FRENCH HISTORY.
From 'Chamber's Edinburg Journal.'
It .was during the early days ot the great
revolution of 1789, m the year 1792, when
a young officer in delicate health, took up his
quarters in the city of Marseilles for the six
months of his leave of absence. It seemed
strange retirement for the young man, for in
the town he knew no one, and Tn the depth of
winter Marseilles was no tempting residence.
The officer lived in a garret looking out on
the street, which had for its furniture, a harp
sichord, a bed, a table, and a chair. Little
but paper ever entered that apartment where
food and fuel were both scarce; and yet the
young man generally remained in doors all
day, assiduously writing, or rather dotting
something upon paper, an occupation he al-
tered with music.
Thus passed many months. The young
man grew thinner and paler, and his leave
of absence appealed likely to bring no conva-
lescence. But he was handsome and interes-
ting despite his sallow hue. Long hair, full
beaming eyes that spoke of intelligence, and
even genius," frankness of manner all prepos-
sessed in his favor, and many a smile and
look of favor came to him from beautiful eyes
that he noticed not, npr cared to notice. In
fact, he rarely went out but at night, and then
to walk down by the booming sea, which
made a kind of music he seemed to love.
Sometimes, it is true, he would hang about
the theatre door when ope -as were about to
be played, and look with longing eyes within;
but" he never entered, either his purse of his
inclination failed him. But he always ex-
amined with care the name or the piece and
itsaiithor, and then walked to the sea shore
to muse and meditate. Shortly after his ar-
rival in Marseilles he visited one after anoth-
er, all the mu jic sellers and publishers in the
town, with a bundle of manuscripts in his hand;
but his reception was apparently not very fa
vorable, for he left them ail with a ft owning
air, and still with hi bundle of monuscript.
Some had detained him a long time, as if es-
tim.ilin;j "he value of the goods he ottered for
sale ; but these were no more tempted than
the others to try the saleable character of the
commodity. The house he lodged in had at-
tached to it a large garden.
By permission of the landlord, the young
man often selected it for his evening walks
and despite the cold, would sometimes sit and
muse in a rude and faded bovver under a wall
at one of the gables. Here he would occa-
sionally even sing in a low tone some of his
own compositions. It happened once or
twice when he did so a female had protruded
from a window above him. seeming lo listen.
The young man at length noticed this.
" Pardon, lady," said he one evening, "per-
haps I disturb you V
'Not at all," she replied, "I am fond of
music, very lond, and the airs you hum aie
new to me. Pray, if not a rude question,
whose are they?"
"Citeyenne," he answered, diffidently, "they
are my own."
"Indeed I" cried-the lady with animation,
"and you have never published them?"
"I shall never try again,1'' he murmured,
. uttering the last word in a low and despair-
ing tone, which, however reached the ears of
the young woman.
"Good night, citoyenne." she said, and sire
closed her window. T4he composer sighed,
rose and wen't out to take his usual walk by
the sea beach, there, before the grandeur and
sublimity of the ocean, and amid the murmur
of its bellowing waves, to forget the cares of
the world, his poverty, and his crushed vision
of glory and renown the day dream of all
superior minds a dream far ofiener a pun-
ishment than a reward ; for of those who sigh
. for fame, few, indeed, are successful.
Scarcely had he left the house, than a lady,
habited in cloak and hood, entered it ; and af-
ter a somewhat lengthened conference with
his convierge, ascended to his room, and re-
mained there about an hour. At the end of I
that time she vanished. It was midnight
when the composer returned. He entered
with difficulty, the Cerberus of the lodge being
asleep, and ascended to his wrdched room.
He had left it littered and dirty, without light,
fire, or food. To his surprise a cheerful
blaze sent its rays beneath the door. He
opened.it not without alarm, and found his a-
parinient neatly ordered, a lire burning, a
lamp, and on the table a supper. The ynuug
, man frowned, and looked sternly at the scene.
"Who dares thus insult my poverty 1 Is it
not r enough that I am starving with cold and
hunger, that I am rejected by the world as a
useless and wretched thing, incapable, of
wielding either sword r pen, but 1 must be
insulted by charity? Fire, light, and food,
mil sent to me by one who knows my necessi-
ty ! And yet who knows ? Perheps my mother-may
have discoverd my retreat. Who else
could have acted thus ? My m-tl;er, I h??s j
thee 'both for your action and ;r respecting J
.myrCMUcealmeul! And tho invalid oiiicer
sat down lo the first hearty tnt-at lie tiad eaten
for weeks. He had left home because his
friends- wholly disapproved of his making mu-
- sic a profession, and wished him to employ his
leave of abscence in learning another occu-
pation. His mother so pressed him, that he
saw no resource but a soldier's last chance
a retreat. For two months no trace of the
fugitive had been seen two months spent in
vain efforts to make his chosen career support
him; and now, doubtless his mother had Imind
him out, and had taken this delicate way of
respecting his secrecy and punishing his I
pride.
Next morning the young man awoke with
an appetite unknown to him of late. The !
generous fbod of the previous night had res-
tored his system, and brought him to a natu-'
ral state. Luckily, sufficient wine andbreao
remained to satify his craving, and then he i
sat down to think. All his efforts to got his J
music sung or played, or published, had been
jvain. Singers knew him nor, publishers de--clared
him unknown, and the public seemed
doomed never to hear him, because they nev-
er had heard him ; a logical consequence
Tery injurious to young beginners in literature,
poets, music, and all the liberal arts. But
he was determined to have one more trial.
Having eaten he dressed and wpnt out in the
direction of the shop of the Citoyen Dupent,
a worthy and excellent man, who in his day
had published more music, had and good, than
a musician could have played in a lifetime. '
"You have something new, then, citoyen V i
said Dupont, after the usual preliminaries, and
after apologising to a lady within his office
for leaving her a while. "As my time is pre-
cious, pray play it at once, and sing it if you
will." The young man sot himself at the
harpsichord which adorned the shop, and be-
gan at once the 'Song of the Army of the
Rhine.' The music publishers liBtenod with
the knowing air of once who is not to be de- j
ceived, and shook his head ai the composer'
ended.
"Rough crude but clever. Ytfung man
you will, I doubt not, do something good ona
of these days; but at present, I am sorry lo
say, your efforts want finish, polish" .The
singer rose, and bowing, left the shop, despair
at his heart. He had not a soul in the world;
his rent was in arrears : he knew not how to
dine that evening, unless, indeed, his mother
came again to his aid an aid he was very
unwilling to receive. His soul repugned
from it, for he parted from her in anger. His
mother was a royalist, he was a republican,
and she had said bitter things to him at part-
ing. But most of all the composer felt one
thing: the world would never be able to
judge him, never be able to decide if he had
or had not merit, and this was the bitterest
grief of all.
Tho day wa3 spent hi moody thought. The eve-
ning cams, nnd no sign of his 6ccrct friend, whether
mother or unknown sympathiser. Towards night the
pangs of hunger became intolerable, anil after numer-
ous parley with himself, tho young man ascended to
his room with a heavy parcel. His eya was wild, his
cheek pale, his whole mien unearthly. As he passed
the door of his lodge, the concierge gave him a ticket
for the Opera, signed Dupout, who was co-manager
of the theatre.
"Go thyself," said tho composer, in a lo-.v husky
voice, aud he went up stairs.
Having gained the room, the unhappy and
misguided young man sat silent and motion-
" less some hours, until, at length, hunger, de-
spair, and his dreamy visions had driven ev-
ery calm and go:id thought from his head,
and then he dared quietly proceed to cany
out his dreadful and desperate intent. He
closed carefully the vjudow, slutted his mat-
rass up the chimney, and with paper stopped
every aperture where air could enter. Then
he drew foith from his parcel of charcoal an J a
burner, and lit it. Thus had this wretched
man determined lo end his sufferings. He
had made one last effoit, and now in that soli-
tary, dismal guret, he laid him down to die ;
and poverty and misery, genius and death,
were huddled close together.
Meanwhile, amid a blaze of light, the eve-
ning's amusement had begun at the theatre.
A new opera, from Paris, was to be played,
and the prima donna was the young, lovely,
and worshipped Claudine, the Jenny Lin'd of
that time and place. The house was crowd-
ed, aud the first act succeeded beyond all ex-
pectation the audience were in ecstacy.
"She is a jewel," said M. Dupont, who,
from a private box, admired the great support-
er of his theatre. A roar of applause from
the pit, delighted at this instant the good man's
ears. Claudine, called befoie the curtain,
was bowing to the audience. But what is
this ? Instead of going off, she hadjust signed
to the orchestra to play. She is about to
show her gratitude to the audience in verse.
M. Dupont rubs his hands, and repeats twice
between his teeth, "She is a jewel!" But,
with ease and rapidity the band commenced
playing an unknown air, and the ne.t instant
M. Dupont is standing up with a strange and
wild look. Hushed and stiil is every breath ;
the audience looked at each other; not a
word of communication takes place ; men
shudder, or rather tiemble with emotion.
But the first stanza is ended; and then a
frantic shout, a startling of all their feet, a
wild shriek of delight, a cry of a thousand
voices thundering the chorus, show how the
song haselecrilied them.
M. Dupont frowned, fir ihe air and the
song were not new to him ; it was the "Song
of the Army of the Rhine" he had refused
that morning! But Claudine proceeds; a-
gaiu the audience is hushed in death-like si-
lence, while I he musicians, roused to an un-u-itial
degree of enthusiasm, played admira-
bly; and Claudine, stiil singing with all the
purity, feeling, and energy of her admirable
voice, plunged her eyes into every corner of
tht: house in vain. At each couplet the en-
thusiasm of the people became greater, and
the anxiety of the singer more intense. At
ItMigth she concluded, and never did applause
mre hearty, more tiemendous, more uproar-
ious, greet the voice of a public songstress.
The excitable population ol Marseilles seem-
ed mad.
When silence was restore 1, Claudine
spoke -'Citovens and Citoyennes !" she ex-
claimed, "this song is both written and com-
posed by a young and uuknown man, who
has in vain sought to put his compositions be-
fore the public. Everybody has refused
them. For myself, I thought this the great-
est musical effort of modern times ; and as
such I practised it to-day, and, unknown to
manager or author, I and the band prepared
his surprise. But the author is not here.
Poor and despairing, he is at home, lament-
ing his unappreciated efforts ! Let us awake
him; let him know that the generous people
of Marseilles can understand and feel great
music. Come, lei ail who have hearts follow
me. and chant the mighty song as we go."
And Claudine, stepping across the orchestra,
landed in the pit, and, bare-headed, light-
dressed as .-die was. lushed towards the door,
followed by every spoclator, and by the musi-
cian?, who, however, put on their hats, and
even throw acloakandcap on the excited and
generous young songstress.
Meanwhile the composer's dreadful resolve
was being carried out. The horrid fumes of
the charcoal filled the room ; soon they be-
gan to consume and exhaust the pure air, and
the wretched youth felt all the pangs of com-
ing death. Hunger, exhaustion and despair
kindled a sort of madness in his brain; wild
shapes danced around him ; his many songs
seemed sung altogether by hoarse, husky voi-
ces, that made their sound a punishment ; and
then the blasted atmosphere oppressing his
chest, darkening his vision, his room seemed
tenated by myriads of infernal and deformed
beings. Then again he closed his eyes, and
soft memory stealing in upon him, showd him
happy visions of his youth, of his mother, of
love, of hope, and joy; of green fields, and
the murmuring brooks which had first reveal-
ed melody into his soul ; and the young man
thought that death must be come, and that he
was on the threshold ofa better world.
But an awful shout, a tremendous clamor,
a thousand voices roar beneath his window.
The young man starts from his dream ; what
is il he hears?
"Aux armes ! citoyens,
Formez vos battaillous," etc.
"What is this ?" he crie?. "My son" on
the Rhine !"
He listens. A beautiful and clear voice is
singing; it is still his song, and then the ter-
rible chorus is taken up by the people ; and
the poor composer's first wish is gained, he
feels thai he is famous.
Hut he is dying, choked, stifled, with char-
coal, lie lies senseless, fainting on his bed ;
but hope and joy give him strength. He
rises, rather falls, then dart-! across the room,
his sword in hand. One blow shivers tho
panes of his window to atoms ; the broken
glass let in th'Tooisen breeze aud th" splen-
did song. Both give life to the young man,
and when Claudine entered the room, the
composer s as able to stand. In ten minules
lie had supped in the porter's lodge, dressed
and come out, to be borne in triumph back to
the theatre, where that night he heard, amid
renewed applause, his glorious song sung be-
tween every act, and each time gaining re-
newed laurels.
Ten days later. Rougct de L'Isle was mar-
ried to Claudine, the Prima donna of Marseil-
les ; and the young composer, in gratitude to
her and her countrymen, changed the name
of his sung, and called it by Ihe name it is still
known "The Marseillaise 1"
AKentuckiaris views of En-
glishmen. The interesting letters of Mr. Ward to the
Louisville Journal are exciting general attention,
by the boldness and originaiity of their views.
The following scorching analysis of the charac-
ter and habits of Englishmen may be deemed,
by some persons, too denunciatory and extrav-
agant, but the language is hardly more severe
than that which is applied to our country, its
people and institutions, by the vulgar and lying
tourists that have travelled through the Union,
to collect materials to administer to the morbid
taste of the Englishmen for slander of republi-
can institutions. Mr. Ward reciprocates the
compliments of the Trolloppcs and Dickenses
with a vengeance ; and though, perhaps his
ardent feelings and patriotic devotion to his
country and her institutions may color his des-
criptions too deeply, yet, in the main, we be-
lieve his views are correct. They are certainly
expressed with great felicity of styl6, and arc
marked by good sense and sagacity. It is not
Often that our young men, travelling in Europe,
are so well guarded against the show and par-
ade, the seductions and pleasures of the Old
World, as to be able to take so philosophic and
sensible a view of society, as the following let-
ter exhibits :
London, Julv, 1849.
Gcnthmcn Although the name of England
is associated with all that is great in war, in
science, and literature; though we have been
taught from our youth to admire her heroes, to
respect her men of science, and to love her po-
ets, yet it only requires a little social inter-
course with her beer-drinking inhabitants to
dispel all that veneration in which school asso-
ciations have clothed her. The moment our
feet touch British soil we stand '-redeemed,
regenerated, and disenthralled' from all those
prejudices which history has produced in her
favor. And we do not so much wonder that a
nation, which has produced men of such emi-
nence in every field of distinction, should be so
destitute of attractive qualities, as we are ama-
zed that genus should ever have taken up it
dwelling place in suck dense masses of human
flesh, or that magnanimity should have been
coupled with such meanness.
It is most difficult for Americans, who do not
visit England, to obtain a proper appreciation
of the English character. For we, as a nation,
have too long regarded her with that sort of
awful respect which a grown-up-school-boy en-
tertains for the pedagogue of his youth. We
do not realize the change in our positions ; we
forget that from being the dependant colony wc
have grown into tho successful rival of Great
Britain : and we still n tain for her that sort of.
awe with which the fine young man quakes'at
the recollection of the tyrannies he endured at
school.
If a scientific analysis could be made of an
Englishman, (I mean the English gentry and
nobility,) I think he would be found to consist
of three p.trts: roast beef, two parts arrogant
selfishness, one part cloth and stiff cambric
three parts hatred of Americans, with just beer
enough to make the latter ingredient particular-
ly active, illiberality is the distinguishing
characteristic of his mind. Shrouded in fogs
that eternally hang over his little island, he
seem3 ignorant of the existence the world be-
yond, and imagines Great Britain to be the uni-vci-se.
His views are as contracted as the lim-
its of his country arc narrow. He knows not
hospitality even by name. He has no kindly
warmings of the heart towards strangers : but 1
suppose consoles himself with the thought of
pr.ictising upon scriptural precepts, for he al-
ways '-takes them in."' How'different from the
kind hearted Scotchman and noble hearted Irish-
man. But. although he is encased in selfishness, as
impenetrable a the hide of an alligator, yet,
like that animal he is vulnerable about the ab-
dominal regions. Through his belly you can
reach his heart. His dinner is not only the
event of the day. but Ihegreatobjcct ot his' life.
He thinks, he talks, he dre tins about his dinner.
He loves to descant upon favorite dishes, and es-
timates the agreeability of every city, tavern
and man, by the style of dinners they give.
Before the curling vapors of oxtail soup, his
coldness melts, all -the milk of human kindness"'
in his nature begins to flow, and undar the hea-
venly influence of roast beef and potatoes, his
heart expands like a wet sponge. He soon eats
and drinks himself into a state of stupiditj', and
like a huge boa constrictor, remains torpid du-
ring digestion. I have heard it suggested by
physicians, that the description ofa man's food
exerted a wonderful influence over his charac-
ter. And I account for the innate stolidity and
sluggishness of an Englishman by the quanti-
ties of .ilali-fr.l beef he devours : and the only
vivifying effect produced by his huge potations
of porter, is to make him snore with wonderful
animation when he falls asleep over his
beef.
An Englishman is notoriously the mos impo-
lite man in the world. If his rudjuess nrocoo-
! ded from jioodnatured ignorance if his rough
manner covered a good heart I could forgive
it. but he never fails to cringe '-where thrift
follows fawning.' He retails his politeness as
he does his beer, at so much a penny, and al-
ways takes god care that you do not receive
more than you pay for. Yet, if you condescend
to toss him a few extra shillings, you are as
much flooded by his obsequious attentions as
you would be if the bung had burst from the
beer-barrel. But really I think great allowan-
ces should be made for an Englishman's not be-
ing a gentleman, for no man can be perfectly
the gentleman, even when he tries to be, with-
out some refinem-jnt and an innate regard for
the feelings of others, but of these an English-
man is as innocent of any other high toned gen-
erous quality.
Decidedly the features of an Englishman's costume
are his hat and his shirt collar. One is as smooth and
polished as his manner toward a man who can do him
a favor: hut the other is as turgid and unbending jib
his address to a stranger from whom he expects no-
thing. And a fallow will often use gnmarabic water
in his efiorts loshk up the first when lime has com-
menced his ravages upon its nap, and will hidalgo in
a superfluous temuli and stiffness of the last to conceal
tho absence of a less ostentatious garment, called a
shirt.
In a slick hat and stiff hhirt-collar, an Englishman
always feels dressed. I lis short coat, his Mjnaro but
snort waistcd vest, rough gray pants, and thick shoes,
are regarded as minor considerations in his toilette.
Anr" tobco a bluffy Englishman, with his little short-
tailed coat his vest reaching liltlo below his arm-pits
his neck buried in tho ample folds a whito cravat,
and his ears resting uneasily upon Ins shirt-collar
one is irresistibly reminded of tho Frenchman's cari-
cature of a dandy frog, ex-opt that we wjuld suppoe
tho Englishman had cast the tail of his tadpole btate
in a beer-barrel instead of a quagmire, ho looks so
especially rosy abo it the gil.'e.
Gout it. the natural propeiis ty of the English, and
no oue co ild vvond-r ill it a --o w 10 has eo i iliPin eat.
Out so far from their avoiding this terrible d.seasc,
they cheroh it like their pedigree, as being the next
mot valuable evidence of their high di scent, and
those whose pedigrees, unfortunately, cannot be traced
very far back, without running into a green grocer's
or chandler's shop, court the gout as tho ostensible in-
d'cation of aristocracy. It is highly amuMtig to wit-
ness tho cxu'ttitioiiof alow-horn Englishman chuck-
I uu ovr tho iii'- p:cui symptoms of this disease, as it
i- usually regarded aj V.w result uf '-h.gh living" nnd
to hear him boasting of "coining" from a "gouty fami
ly" is au irresistible proof of noble blood.
Every nation basjsome grand master passion some
groat moviug principle. America is ruled by patriot-
ism. Tho French will do anything for enjoyment.
But the omnipotent shilling is tho great moviug
principle of the Euglish. Under its magic influence,
insolent arrogance binks into servility, maroso silenco
melts into loquacity, haughty reserve becomes com-
municative, and the snarling bull-dog is changed into
the fawning spaniel. England is a stupaudous hhow-
house. Here you may see anything '-for a compau-
sation" from the palace of the nobleman lo the five-
legged pig. The idea of a man whoso income is a
half a million dollars a year pormiting visitors lo pay
to visit his grounds, as if he kept a menagerie! It is
like charging a benighted traveller a "quarter" for his
horse-feed when he stops at your house in the coun-
try. Tho apology for this is that it rs a remuneration
lo iho servants tor their extra service. But, if an
American gentleman had grouuds worthy of being
thus visited, ho would remunerate the servants from
his own pnrse, although ho might not have a half a
million. The English are a nation of waiter. The
manners of all are thoso ofa waiter, from the Lards
in waiting on the Queen dowu to "John," who has
his position m the coffee-room all being insolent to
those beneath, aud servile to tho-e above thoin. Nouo
of thoin are loo proud to be bribed. The Lord takes
"a place," ami "John" takes a shilling. They mako
money tho valuation of every thing, whether it bo
fame or a box of herrings. If a man fights well, they
pay him. If ho speaks well, they pay him. But,
indeed, men in England both speak and tight more for
money than for fame, and are always anxious to ex-
change either or blood for gold. What have they
given to Wellington? What did they give to Mar-
lborough" Or what did both Marlborough and Well-
ington most desire but gold? Gold is the English-
man's idol. With it, you can do anything ; without it,
you can do nothing! I was amazed to witness the
abject servility with which Englishmen would re-
ceivo a shilling, when men in tiio same position, in
America, would htve been insulted at its beiug offer-
ed. If yoafee them they can't do loo much; if you
fail to do so, they can't do too little. At first I felt a
delicacy in off-ring money to gouleel-Iooking men for
answering a question or doing soma other sorvice as
trifling; but, I soon discovered that, if I wished a civil
auswer, it was always safest lo accompany my ques-
tion with that insinuating piece ol money called a
shilling
Therj is no nation so entirely the blavcs of public
opinion as the English. Individuals have no opinions
of their own. Thoy are afraid to dress, to speak, or
even to think differently from other people. And tho
apprehension of doing .-ouictlinig which the world
would call "pulgar" is a spectral fear which haunts
an Eugli-hm.ui like h:s shadow. He affects a redi-
culous castumo, for foar he m glit be mistaken for "a
swell," and in his bob-tailoJ coat, tight pauts and
thick-soled shoes ho prefers resamolm g in figure a
certain well-known bird in Amonca, called "ily-iip-iho-creek,"
to being taken for a "parvenue." He
assumes the bullying manners of a prize-fighter, ap-
prehending a littlo politenoss wo-ild appear litco the
obsequiousness of a shopman. No man feels so littlo
secure of his position in society, or takes so much
trouble to maintain it. He is afraid to engage in active
employment, for occupation smacks of "the shop."
Though he makes pleasure the business of his life, he
is afraid to enjoy himself, because gaiety might be
construed into boisterous vulgarity; all exertion of
mind or body i prolub.ted as uiifiiU!'n-iti!y, and the
oaly thing which he can engage in. which is entirely
in accordance Willi every body's notions of what a
gentleman ought to do, is to cat. Aud in his efforts
lo be excessively geuleel, he has reduced his existence
to that of an oyster. The oyster sucks salt water, aud
his shell is the world." An Eng!iIinian eats beef
and drinks porter, u.iJ nnijiuos England is the uni-
verse. Tho prominent peculiarity of an Englishman's
m iniiors is insolence. He is surly by nature but
is always insolent with the vain hope ol imposing upou
others tho beliol that he whs "born to command,"
and flatters himself that strangers will m'takc tho ar-
rogance of an upstart for the bearing of real nubility,
he delights lo give himself consequence by finding
fault, and makes it a general rule never to be satisfied
with anything out of England and with little in it.
He has humor aud his roast beef into every capital of
Europe, and one isasualur-'lly as-ociuted with an
Engiislimau as the other and in Eiiglund he has so
accustomed those to his complaints, who arc compel-
led to submit to his caprices, that a stranger is neglect-
ed as a nobody, who is not eternally expressing his
dissatisfaction with every tiling done far him: A man
must "blow up,' the waiters daily, and the whole
concern once a week, to command anything lido res-
pect in au English hotel. Even in the largest trans-
actions, the Englishman counts pennies as carefully
as if the golden treasures of California wcr represent-
ed in this paltry coin. And though his whole existence
is a protracted lounge, ho refuses to g.ve ha'penny to
a begger for fear of cncouragi.ig i.lliuess. Although
"the gent'emaii" mako ii tlie srugle of his life to
exclude Iho mob from what ho considers his peculiar
enjoymeuts though every species of amn-eineiit is
avoided as if pestilential, in which "the people" can
indulge although the opinions of the ma-ises ure pro-
scribed as radical and vulgar yet the Duke cordial-
ly unites with the shopman in bating beggers and
Americans. This is a luxury in which the high and
low indulge in common. They all consider it a crime,
worthy of the house of correction to be poor. And
they all hate Americans with that intensity which
people only experience for thoso whom th;y would
faiu injure but dare not.
HESQRECTIOX Oc THE FAMISHED.
BY AX IRISHWOMAN.
A WAKING VISION.
And there was a voice in Heaven, and a sound
as of angles spreading their wings, for their er-
rands of mercy. And rising, thoy left their
places from before the throne of God and of the
Lamb. And the Angel of inquiry went forth
first, and his feet were clothed with wings-aud
two wings spread from his shoulders; and
now he goes on his way, and, passing through
the gates of bliss, he makes a descent toward the
dark shades of our misty atmosphere. There
arrived, he is met by that angel whose care it
is to wait by the bod of the dying saint, and
bear on high the imprisoned soul: but not to
him is given to clothe it with immortal gar-
ments. What bcareth he now? "Tis a burden light
and frail. He pauses he lays it at the feet of
tho Angel of Inquiry. Then the Angel of In-
quiry spake and said:
"Whence comest thou? from tho shades of
affliction and of anguish art thou come? Thy
cheek is hollow, and thy feet are bare thy gar-
ments are torn and soiled. There is no joy in
thine eye. and the babe at thy breast hath thy
life-blood on his lip. Frail wreck of expired
mortality, from what bad region art thou
come? "'
And a voice, as the wind when it passeth
through the hollow reed, answered and said:
'From the depths of want and despair from
that land where the breezes arc fresh as the
dews of heaven where tho sun dances light
on the heath-clad hill, and where the pleasant
vales arc as the gardens of Paradise. From
thence is thine handmaid eome."
Then answered the Angel:
"Child of mortality, was thy lot a favored one,
thus planted in the garden of the Lord.' Why
didst thou not sing prai.sc? Wherefore didst
thou not rejoice? Why didst thou not satisfy
thy soul on its glorious mountain tops? Why
grew the yellow corn and thou didst not cat?
Why wanderedst thou by the merry brook, and
didst not drink thereof?"'
Then the woman spoko and said.
'Sir, thou knowest. In the land from whence
I come, the eye is satisfied, but tho heart is faint.
The sun is on the hill but famine is on tho
hearth. The rich man's corn is in the vale, but
the poor man's foot lies dead within the
ground."
Then the Angel of Inquiry, with soothing ac-
cents, replied:
"Child of mortality, thou hadst in thy life-
time evil thing.-. Behold, who comcth!"'
And she looked, and lo! a shining cloud, and
opening as it drew near, a form stood before
her. And the Angel of Welcome was the Son
of God. His hair was as the morning dew. His
sandals and his robes were of Cherub's wings,
and on his brow was a coronet of freedom and
truth. Holy gladness kindled in his eye; aud
on his lip was the law of love.
Welcome! precious ransomed one!" he said;
"welcome! Thou hadst tn thy life-time evil
things."
Then did echo cive back the words:
"Welcome! Tnuit horttt in thy life-time evil
things!'" Then silence reigned No voice stir-
red the air. whilst the Angel of Wcliomc continued:
'Come with me. I will lead theo. to - tho
Rock that is higher than thou.
And as the Angel of Inquiry pursued with
his piercing eye the soaring spirits, her torn
robes turned to garments of immortality. On
the famine stricken cheek sat the beauty of
youth. Her sunken eye shone as the sapphire,
and the babe that had lain upon her withered
arm. as a new born angel, spread its light
wings byhersfde.
A path is open; it grows before their foot-
steps: and as the exiled cherub flies back to the
regions of eternal day, soared on their way the
new inhabitants of heaven. As they entered on
the path of glory, lo! the gates of "heaven are
opened wide; and a -voice surpassing in its deep
melody the-music even of the angel's welcome,
uttered these words:
'Come, thou, blessed' of my Father! The tear
is wiped from thine eye!"'
And as he raised his hand to bless, the en-
franchised spirit looked, and lo! the print ofa
nail! And kneeling in reverent awe. she be-
held another; but raising her eye, the glory was
on his head! And her lips cauglvt the strain,
aud, joining the company kof angels, she tookup-
the song:
'Glory! glory! glory!' and glory sounded
through the vaults above.
Hut the Angel of Inquiry went on his way.
nor paused until he met again the Angel-of
Waiting, and lo! with him was a great multi-
tude. And the Inquiry Angel spake and
said:
'Reveal to me, my brotbar, whence are
these?-'
Then replied the angel of Waiting:
""Tis from that terrestrial isle that men have-
called the "Oceans Gent." From the shoresof
Sk bb u have they come-. The cold' sea-
weed lias been their meat, and the cold sea-
weeds has been their drink: and the firo- has
gone out upon the hearth, and scarcely have
they room to die. The straw is too precious to
make them a bed, and hardly have they strength
to howl forth their anguish. The pious son,
who would have buried his father hath died by
the way: and the tender daughter may not be
laid alone in the chamber of death; there is none
to wrap the winding sheet around her; and as
for the minstrels, their voices are still; the-funeral
dirge is the moan of the dying! The grave-
digger has sunk at his unremitting toil, and the
pit he has dug is filled with the unhonored
heap."'
He paused. The Angel of Inquiry dropped a
tear, and covered his eyes with his glorious
wings. And now he speaks.
'Shall it bo asked Is tlse Lord's hand short-
ened that he cannot save? or his ear heavy that
it cannot hearV
Soft music swells upon the breeze. "Tis the
Angel of Welcome returning; sorrow flies as he
descends, and these are the words which he
spake:
'Shall the mother forget her child, that she
should not have compassion on the son of her
womb? Yes. she may forget, yet will not I,
saith the Lord.'' Then turning, he addressed
tho multitude:
'I know you. my brethern; ye are come out of
great tribulation!'
Voices from a thousand harp3. borne by echo
from the regions above, now swell the gladden-
ed air. and guiding angels from the east, and
from the west, from the north, and from the
south, appaar to minister to the enfranchised
spirits, and bear them upward to the path of
glory?
AnJ there w?re lingered.
The Angel of Inquiry having gazed for a time
after the glorious procession, turned at langth
and said:
'And who art thou that lingerest? and who
is she who will not leave thy side even for the
abodes of eternal joy?"
This he said to prove them, for he knew why
these delayed.
Then did .he who lingered make this re-
ply: 'I am a sinful man, oh! my lord. Long did
I repose my liinb3 on a bed of down; joy and
cladness echoed thro" rav halls, but pride was
in mv heart: the voices of my children were as
the lark s early son-;: And 1 looked in the face
of my partner, and her eve answered joyful to
.. -. " i - .
mine: iue Mower bloomed on its stalk, anU the
uit rip3ned on the tree. The corn bowed its
fol len ear the catle rauged the hill, and the
shcp dropped her lambs and lo' ttero were
all r me! The poor man worked, aid I paid
him. The poor man drank, and I rebuked him.
The poor man Avas sick, and I forgot him!
'But the hour of remembrance came. The
grass grew, b.it wh n were thj mowers? Agtinthe
com was full in the oir. but it-bowed for wai t ofthe
reapers! And I looked from my lofty hill don n up-
ou the vale below, bat lo! the hut of the luborngmau
sent forth no curling smoke aud the youths and the
maidens sang not at the door and the little child sat
lonely on the ground! A. honor ran through my brain
my limbs trembled I though" of the rich man in
the gospel, for a voice whispered in my ear: The
rich man also died and was buried!'
"I called the partner of my life, aud said: 'oh! sin-
ful, lost beings thai wo are! Wo had thought we
were as gods, but we slrtll die like men! We were
stewadsof the Lord, cud we considered it no:!'
"Then the women took rne by the hand and we
kuelt in prayer; and rising up she said unto me: 'We
havo sinned, but il ma)' be the Lord will pardon us.
Behold, now z the accepted timet'
" Then went we forth and sought the camp of dis-
ease aud death. For a long season we suffered af-
fliction with the people of God; and lo! we are here,
for wo died with them. We gave our life with theirs.
Hath our God mercy for us? Will our Saviour admit
us even at this last hour?'
Scarcely were these words concluded, when all
arouud celestial glory beamed, tho clouds rolled back,
and the Angel of Welcome was seeii waiting in the
rauiited path tnat Icaus on Ingn; and the doors was
open in the Heaven, and unnumbered angels struck
their harps and said:
"Glory! glory! there is joy in heaven over the sniuer
that repenteth. Behold, now is the accepted time!
Behold, now is tiie accepted time!"
This, tho words of faith they had faiutly whispered
on theesjlh, raugin loud chorus through the high
arche3 of heaven ''New is the accepted time! Now
is the accepted time!"
An Aerial Bridge. Another of
the Wonderful Discoveries of age.
TIib New Orleans Courier, of the 12th
in.st., is responsible for the following de-
scription of a bridge, a model of which
is now on exhibition in that city :
"It may be remembered that about
six months since, Mr. Remington and
his self-supporting bridge were the sub-
jects of extended and commendatory
notice in the English papers, extracts
of which were published about that
time in the United Slates. This gen-
tlemen has recently arrived in this city,
and has erected in the bar-room of
Bank's Arcade, for public inspection, a
model of his wondeorful bridge. It is
undoubtedly an extraordinary result of
mechanical genius.
"The first impression on seeing it is,
that it is constructed on principals hith-
erto unknown to the student of natural
philosophy. It certainly appears to set
the laws of gravitation at defiance. It
extends across the bar-room, a space of
0f feet, and is elevated some ten feet.
Irom the floor. Its appearance is so
fragile, thtit lew men, judging from this
alone, would willingly trust themselves
upon it. Yet while there, yesterday af-
ternoon, amonga number ofo her spec-
tators, we saw len gentlemen all to-
gether on the centre of this bridge. It
will be noticed that it has no j-upport
lroin the ground, its resistance as wi-11
to gravitnion as to the pressure ot o j
many persons being secured by the
principles on" which it is constructed.
Yet notvithstandingthis great weight,
its defiextnre was very inconsiderable.
"From a memorandum handed to us
by Remington, it appears that this
bridge has a span- of 90 feet. The""
space is ciossed by four longitudinal
supporters, each less than one inch
square at the centre, but increasing
gradually; ia size, until at ihe ends' or
points ot" fastening, they are 2 1-2 inches
square. The bridge has one catenary:
and two paiabolic curves, by which"
stregth and beauty are both secured.
The flooring is attached diagonally, and
is made to sustain a portion of the
strain. The deflexion of the supporters
is 22 1-2 inches. It is capable-of bear-
ing the pressure of seven tons ; while
each of the su.pporters,)ccuppying their
place in the bridge, will sustain a
weight greater than the absolute
strength of the timber and the direct
cohesion of its fibres
'Mr. Remington slates that if one of
his bridges were- cut through transvers-
ely at the centre, the parts served
would neither sink nor seperate so
much as to render it impassible. He
informs us, beside, that a bridge on this
principle could be'made taspana space
of mile and abalL"
The New Annexation Journal at Toronto, (Conajj
da). The Independent, a large semi-weekly news
paper, ably edited by H. B- Wilson, whose lather,
a native of New Jersey, was formerly speaker of the
Canadian Assembly, has been established at Toronto,
to support the cause of peaceful separation of Canada
from England, aud its immediate annexation to this
Republic. Mr. Wilson talks with calmness aud temper-
ance, and is tuiqucstiouably sincere in- his design to
remove British power from the North American continent-
lie reasons after this manner :
"The advocates of independence propose to do noth-
ing toward the attainment of their objsct, except by
strictly lawful and constitutional means. They pro-
pose to elect men to the Legislative Assembly, favo:
rable lo their views, and when they have secured a ma-
jority in the only indepondant braneh of tho Leg'sla-
turo, lo open aegoiiatioas with the Imperiaf Govern-
ment for treaty ol independence.
"This point ooce attained, Canada, and the Lower
Provinces, (whtcb will unquestionably join us in the
movement,) will be in a position, after settling" tho
Boundaries of the now States, to open negotiations with
the Federal Government at Washington for admission
into the Union, as sovereign and independent States.
We have already shown in a series of letters, published
in several Upper Canada papers, and translated into
the French papers of Lower Cauada, that while vast
advantages, both political and commercial, would re-
.sa!t to Canada by the proposed union,, the change m
our form of government and iuslitntious would not of
necessity be such as to shock the feelings or prejudi-
ces of any cue. We showed that each State possess-
ed the power to frame its own constitution, and that
the Canadian States might, if they chose, continue
under their present form.of government, with the sim-
ple exception, that they would, have to elect their own
Governors, as well as pay them. As the letters re-
ferred to contain muck of the ground work of the ar-
guments in-favor of annexation, we. shall make free
use of the materials ibey coulaiu, and perhaps publish
some of them entire.
"We do not for a moment doubt that we shall meet
with a cordial welcome from a great majority of tho
thirty sovereign States, which at prescut compose the
confederacy. But, before we can consent to enter,
or be received into the Union, there will be numerous
preliminaries and det ids to bo submitted and agreed
to by both parties. The British provinces have many
and great advantages to confer upon the Union, for
which they are jiibtly entitled to a fair equivalent, aud
which must not be thrown away. "Among these,
we may brief enumerate the following, namely:
Tho acquisition of our custom-house revenue, which
may be estimated at least at S2,UUU,000 per annum ;
the saving of GOUO,uO a year, for the revenue and
j custom house service from Chicago to Maine; the
' closing up of more than a thousand miles of frontier on
I l"e nrl!l the free navigatiou or the great Lakes aud
I flirt Sr T.inroi.o friorofitr rrimrr frt flnu Ainorirvn
! "-, . "-- ,"-'-, "7
Union tho entire control of the most magniflccut sys
tem of internal navigation extending through the heart
of tho torth Amenc3n Continent, from the Gulf of
Mexico on the south, to the Gulf of St Lawrence on
the north and au extended market for their surplus
manufactures. Wc have, beside, the-valuable fisheries
of the Lower Provinces, and an almost iuexhanslibla
supply of pine, oak, and waluut lumber to offer tho
ship builders aud manufacturers ofthe Union. To all
these maybe added our wild lands, many of them val-
uable for their minerals if properly developed. To
such a confederation hs the United States, we con-
ceive thut these advantages are invaluable worth far
more than the cost of the Mexican war, estimaied at
a hundred millions of dollars. As regards 'Canada,
her debt of $25,(J0O,OQ9, for which we are at present
unable to provide the interes t, must, like that of Tex-
as, be assumed, and at least 25,000,000 or $30,000-
000 thrown into the hargaiu, to enable us to build an
extended system of railways from Quebec to Wind-
sor." Salary ofthe Emperor of Hayli. An er-
roneous opinion prevails with many persons
in (his country, iu regard to the salary of the
new Emperor of Hayli. The salary ol $150,-
000 more for pin-money, sounds rather ex-
travagant, to he sure, as does the talk of pay-
ing three dollars a dozen for washing, four
dollars for making a pair of pants, and thir-
ty dollars for caif-boots. But, (says a late
letter from Port au Prince,) "when you have
obtained your biggest pocket full of these
Haytien dollars, tbr less than eight cents
each 208 for a doubloon being the present
rate you fiud you have no reason to com-
plain of your washerwoman, tailor or hoot-
lmaker, hut rather wonder how they get bre; d
to eat." It will, therefore, be seen that tbo
above apparently large allowance, dwindles
to a sum but little more than half as large as
the moderate salary of our own Chief Mag-
istrate. EFFECT OF CLIMATE.
In Guinea, men. dogs, and fowls, all
become, negroes. The French settlers
on that coast, or their descendents, can
hardly be distinguished from the na-
tives, except by a slight Caucasian de-
velopment in the head and features.
In Corsica, horses and dogs are spot-
ted in a manner peculiar to that Island.
Naturalists have observed that these
peculiarities are of climate, not of spe-
cies or variety. A race of dogs, brown
and black, was introduced into Corsi-
ca during Paoli's time ; and without
intermixing with the Inland variety, a
few generations fonnd them very spot-
ted, aud essentially changed in physi-
cal outline. ScolVs Weekly Paper.
Curing Hams for Private Use. I beg
leave to present to the public, says a
correspondent ofthe Maine Falmer, my
manner of preserving hams. 1 turn my
barrel over a pan or kettle, in which I
burn bard wood for seven or eight days;
keeping a little warm water on the
head of the barrel and prepare a pickle
by putting six gallons of water in a
boiler, with twelve pounds ol salt, lwelv
ounces of saltpetre, and two quarts of
molasses. This I stir sufficiently to dis-
solve the salt, fcc, and let it boil and
skim it. 1 then let it cool and pour it
on my bams, and m one week I have
smoked hams, very tender, and di' an
i
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Moore, Francis, Jr. Democratic Telegraph and Texas Register (Houston, Tex.), Vol. 15, No. 4, Ed. 1, Thursday, January 17, 1850, newspaper, January 17, 1850; Houston, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth48573/m1/2/: accessed May 5, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting The Dolph Briscoe Center for American History.