The Mirror — Concord, N.H., 1798-06-05 00:00:00, page 4

THE
SENTIMENTAL MEDLEY.
TO RAISE THE GENIUS, ANDTO MEND THE HEART. !
the Btbulrt,
FOR THE MIRROR.
[From the Cabinet.]
PLOW PEGGr.
A CONTRAST.
As Peggy, apart in a neighbouring
grove,
Cogitative and pensively ftray'd.
Her thoughts were intent on the vision of
love,,
And the terrors that haunt an old
, maid.
Tho' youth she poffefs'd in its vigor and
/bloom, Q
And fearce twenty years had fur<ey d,
She long'd to be certain—but dreaded
her doom,
Left it might be to live an old mud.
'Twas Plow had possessions, and plenty
in store, °
The female affeaions to move ;
Tho' advanced in years, betwixt two and
• three score,
" He retained a faint tin&ure of love.
He whifper'd to Peggy, both foftly and
fly,
I bate ax unjotiable life,
And wasjuft going to mention te Peggy how I,
(Ifit lulled) weald make her m, wife.
She foil'd, and look'd up at his time
robbed-pate,
Her heart seemed natto consent;
No symptom of lore had he power to
create —,
Not a symptom of genial content.
But, turning her mind on his flocks and
his herds,
The gladdening growth of the lawn ;
The purling of streams, and the singing
of birds,
While the farmer bids welcome the
dawn—
Her heart was infpir'd with a fafeinous
gleam,
For the reverend viffage of Plow ;
His big manly person feem'd worthy es
teem,
As the patronal cut of his brow.
Her consent was adorn'd with a maiden
ly fir ile, '
Which bespoke her emotion of heart ;
The possessions of Plow had such pow'r
to beguile,
Not Ovid could equal their art.
But how shall I speak it ? no pleafufe the
lawn,
Could ever to Peggy afford ;
Nor foftening eve, nor rapturous dawn,
Nor the foug of the warbling bird.
All gloomy as winter ! Plow bending
with years,
Grown sullen is wont to upbraid;
Peggy fishing exclaims, when o'er
whelm'd with her tears,
Alas ! that I'd liv'd an old maid.
MISCELL ANY.
for the MI^RROR.
" „rtb makes the Ms#— the want of it
the /e/fro."
THIS is a trite faying of
the great Pope, and I
confefs he is near the truth---
tho' Meffis. Colon & Spondee
have condemned him, and
thrown him out of their shop
as damaged goods. But what
is worth ? Tis said the worth
of any thing, is so much morif
ey as it will bring. This, to
vie a vulgar expression, is the
lawful tender of the mean
ingJ 'Tis money makes the
mare ge; and why not make
the man ? It answers all
things ; and,! believe I need
not make any exceptions.- —
We cannot choose a Gover
nor, Councillor, Senator, or
Representative, unless they
have money ; nor will they,
or the Judges and officers,
which they appoint, serve
their country, unless they
have a round salary. Men
may have good sense, im
proved by education, be en
dowed with judgment, and,
in short, with every virtue,
which can adorn the mind,
except honesty, and this, by
the way, is acquired by mon
ey only.
Without a large share of
the root of evil, a person is of
no value---he is not a man."
Without knavery, there is no
honesty; for it is confiJered
only relative. 'Tis money,
alone, can create an ability
for office ; for the law has
laid it, and who shall den, ?
The people have made it,
and who are wiser than they?
'Tis they make right, and
they destroy ; they are the
folc judges of the fitpefs, or
propriety of actions,' and it is
by them that every action is
to be tried, and to this we
must submit.
r But what have I said ?—
There is a fitnefs and a pro
priety of.action, conformable
to nature and the disposition
of things.
In relation to man, and his
condu& in society, his intrin
sic worth is to be estimated
by his conformity to this rule.
Altho' men must, and will
judge of all human actions ,;
yet, there is a standard of
perfect rectitude, to which
we must all submit. The re
lations existing between God
and man, and the duties re
fusing, the refpea due to
ourfelvcs, the offices of friend
fhip and mutual assistance we
owe to our fellow beings,
from a rule, which may be
applied as a flandard to all
our actions. But, it is said the
capacity ofonp is greater than
another ; consequently, the
greater the capacity, the
greater the worth. Relative
ly, this is true, but not abso
lutely. A vessel that can
contain only a quart, when
full, is as really so, as the ton
of Heidelburgh. But, the field
opens too wide, I must flop.
'.MAXIMA}..
HOW brilliant soever an
action may be, it ought not
to pass for great, when it is
not the effect of great design.
4 FRAGMENT.
—l'r was a cold morning—
the dry< boughs bent before
the northern blast. I wrap
ped my cloak about me,
Drugged up my fhouldcrs,
and walked to get warmth-—
A poor old woman ,hinly
clad in rags, decrepit with
age, and bowed down with
a load of woe, entered the
room, and with a supplicat
ing air, requeued a few pence
to alleviate hunger. You will
lay it out for rum, said a dea
con of a church. And I shall
have to fine you for getting
drunk, laid a justice. The
law makes provision for all
vagabonds, fays an attorney.
I can hardly take a walk
without meeting some of
these people, fa, s a rich mif_
er ; I wish our civil officers
were punished for not having
them all in goal. I wish they
would hang them all, said
the merciful landlady, then
they would be out of the
way. A tattering Irish sailor
instantly rose from his feat,
and requeued the poor old
woman to come and warm
herfelf, and presented her
wth a shilling. I rummaged
all my pockets, and could
find but fix pence ; it is my
fortune to be poor : I gave
that, but was ashamed it was
no more.
I saw the old woman fit
down to a good warm break
faft ; she cat her fill and was
happy.
1 have seen her since. She
bieffed me a thousand times;
said ffie had found employ
ment at the house of a qua
ker, and hoped she should
no more be obliged to beg.
- Not long since I lodged
one night at the deacon's. As
usual, before going to bed, he
went to prayer. He prayed
for the President of the U. S.
for men in office, for the min
isters of the gospel, for his
family and friends. lam
called a wicked man. 1 sel
dom pray, but now I could
not help it. I' prayed also ;
but it was for the poor old
woman. I believe I even
said something about the qua
ker who took her in, but
What it was, have now for-
THE ffloralttt.
“ A wit's a feather and aebief'j a red, \
" An boneft man's the noblest work of God."
— POPE.
V(/ 7 HAT is that which gives
a steady lerenity and
composure to the mind of
man? What is that which
re¥^9B^maQ3CT^^XTi.atta^MMMMMini, ■■<«■■
gives him a noble share of
true courage and real forti
tude ? Is it not HONESTY?
Is it not a cgnfcioufnefs, or at
least a belief, that what he
does is right, and confident
with equity and justice ? To
these questions I shall answer
in the affirmative. If such is
the importance and power of
honeJly—if our sublunary en
joyments refills, in a great
measure, from the practice
of it--.and if our future and
eternal felicity depends whol
ly upon it, how then can
men break over all its rules
and launch into the gloomy
and fluctuating vortex of in
famy and guilt, with teeming
indifference ? M,Qerious in
deed ! But many thero are,
(old people as well as young)
who, difrtgardijg the pious
admonitions cfthe good, give
themselves up to every vici
ous practice, and seem to take
peculiar pride in being rank
ed among the foes of vice
and depravity. Perhaps they
never perused the works of
that man who has very justly
fly led
An bene, man the noble, work of God.
And such must be the real
sentiments of every wife man.
Yes, Honesty is one of the
most valuable, refpeCtable,
and agreeable companions a
young man can have. If he
makes her his polar far, he
performs the journey of life
with pleasure and renown.---
O thou fair Parent of Con
tent ! Thou bieffed offspring
of Heaven ! Ever preside o
ver me, and direct all my
aCtions.
tra^ffl,,HrantCTo^erat RmraresraHßmmt
banquet of Camus.
A Gentleman lent for bis tai
lor, who happened to be an
Irishman, and told him h^ had
made his coat and waistcoat so lit
tle, that he could not wear them,
and ordered him to take them
home and let them out. The tay
lor promised to obey the order he
had received, which he did in a
very extraordinary manner. Some
days afterwards the gentleman
wondering the taylor did oot
bring hit clothes home altered ac
cording eg his direction#, feot for
him, and when Paddy arrived,
asked him what was come of hit
coat and waistcoat ? "By my
fhoul," fay the ninth pare of an
Irishman,,*! have obeyed your
commands, and have let them out,
and the devil burn me but I think
1 have made a very good bargain
too, for they happened to fit a
countryman of mine, and I have
let them out to him at eighteen
pence a week, and he has engaged
to wear them at that price three
^months certain, whether he lives
or dies."