The Mirror — Concord, N.H., 1798-04-24 00:00:00, page 4

And animation's Echo lifts tbejkies;
While me with gratitude the impulse feel,
Which binds the private to the public weal;
Benevolence may mark the path we tread,
, And honor's laurels bloom amid the deed.
ALBERTO.
Maffachujetts, April 9,1798.
[Alberto's ' Apoflropbe to Humanity,'
necessarily omitted this week, (hall have
a place in our next Rivulet. Further
Communications from this Correspond
ent, would be gratefully received.]
FOR THE MIRROR.
A CONTRAST.
[approve,
erHE matrimonial- fl ate— All prudent men
' The wtyifacerdy bate—A cauje of chang
ing love ;
True baptinejs wefyd — In Hymen's silken
chair,
With tboft who are unjoin'd—There's nought
butfrar^pai,;
I'll therefore wifely dare—To have a corfant
'wife,
To changefromfair to fair— Is but a wretch
.'ed life.
DUPLICITY.
jHifreUanp.
for the MIRROR.
WHEN oak's Favonian frfl begin to
blow,
And icy congeries in liquid: flow ;
When zephyrsfoft their lenient influence feed,
And Tethys riftsfrom her snow-clad bed ;
When from the clfftbe head long torrent rears,
Winding its course, o'er meads impetuousfours;
When long-fairnfnows, immaculate pure,
Lib fair, weflal, yield tb' embrace demure ;
When Naiadesfrfo their silken limbs unbind,
Where pebbly rivulets with murmurs wind;
Then theyoung germs of f, reading fancy plays,
Life s future landscape decks with halcyon
knew,
Wbofe bear, is bonify, wbofe friendship true ;
Feels all & joy fa ever knew before,
Heighten'd by Nature's all- revising power.
The rustic peojant leaning on bis spade, *
Feels in the gale the raptures of the maid,:
The greenfword turf reluctantly turps o er,
ylnd burns with ecflacies unknown before ;
In rapturous mode, they lightly Jkim along,
Or join the dance, or gambol o'er the lawn :
Loss's mazy wild explore, in union sweet,
'Join band to band, while hearts iff concert
% (wains, the jarring note of coming day,
Who faf entwin'd, a bujb like ivy round,
Their lover's arms within —fart at the foun^.
Now thrush and black-bird, warbling as
gbeir love to prove by antidetea bliJs,
Coil, foe yields to th' impr^fon of a kiss.
In this fair Jenfa, happiness to blend
Witbjocialfweets, may ev'ry effort tend;
Fruits of the ripening field, or mind toJbare,
With Heav'n's best gift,tbeffo of the Fair.
While brils and woods, with bloomy verdure
tbey fly,
With twittering follow, fend the notes on
bigb.
Nature's full Orcbeftre, with dulcet founds
Os native harmony, and fang rebounds. ,
The village maid, who cure and pain ne er
days.
Now native red-breads chirp their morning
raWm^^^rMl
FOR THE MIRROR.
THE latbulet.
SPRING.
SENTIMENTAL MEDLEY.
C ' TO RAISE THE GENIUS, AND TO MEND THE HEART."
" I will, said he, since you desire
it, give you my reasons ; fitft, in
general, and then in particular :—
I have observed that card# waste a
great deal of time, which I esteem
the most valuable tteafure that
God hath bestowed on ui. They
exclude conversation in the next
place, which is the highest of all
social pleasure ; and lastly, they
too frequently excite envy, repin
ing, and ill-humor.
" To be more particular—in
young perlons the habit of playing
at cards absorbs many of thole
hours, which ihould be spent io
improving the mind, and which
thus simply loft, can never after
wards be repaired. In the prog
ress of their lives, such young per
foes, for the want of improvement,
arc utterly unfit for proper em
ployments, and fall, of course, in
to pursuits unworthy of the situa
tion they might have filled, and
become infignificant in themfelvei,
and ufelefi to society.
" In refpe& to the old, this
humor of card playing gives a ve
ry bad example, and contributes,
strongly, to ruin the rifiog genera
tion ; it removes that reverence
that naturally waits upon years,
and renders that season of life dif
graceful, which ought to be the
object of veneration : It iocreafes
avarice, the natural vice of age;
and, it corrupts the heart at a sea
son when it ought to be employed
in thole pursuits which ennoble the
mind, and which render us worthy
of our Maker,
' MORCEAU.
PENSIVE and fad, Edmund ap
proached the sacred dwelling
of the deul. The pale lamp of
the silver moon shed its rays o'er
the solitary feene, and marked the
mansion of Eliza's form^ The
silence of death reigned over the
pkce, and nature seemed asleep.
He viewed the new railed grave,
he beheld the clods which covered
the lovely maid; and busy memo-
A GENTLEMAN in public
company, inviegbiog against
the prevailing custom of card-play
ing, was requeued to give hit rea
foat for such inve&ive, which he
did in wordi to thia effed :—
On Card Playing.
ry agonized hit foul. " Anrimuft"
cried he, " that form lie%ould
ring in the dust ; must it forever
be hidden from mine eyes, be ren
dered impervious to my view.—
Shall I no more behold the noble
sentiment brighten io thine eye
and animate thy lovely frame.—
Tho' thou waft perfection's fitter,
would not death spare thee ?—
Would he not let thee bloom on
earth, the pride of beauteous na
ture ? Ah! no! Maid of the del
icate mind !—Thou fnalt bloom
in everiafting dav, and flourilh in
immortal green."
Thus spake theyouth, with ap
parent tranquility and pensive re-
Agnation. But raffing hit head to
wards the moon, while the tears
which ran down bis cheeks, re
fleded her gentle rays, the tho'ta
of past felicity rushed on his mind,
and excels of feeling flopped the
viral course, e'er he could exclaim,
"' Tit done—l come Eliza—-In
yon etherial field we meet to part
no more. He fell upon her grave,
the moon was obfeured by a pag
ing cloud, and nature seemed to
join in sympathetic woe.
THE father to the late Earl of
Pembroke, who had many
good qualities, but always persist
ed inflexibly in his own opinion,
which, as well as his condud, was
often very singular, thought of an
expedient to prevent the remon.
ftrances and expoftulationa of thole
about him .•— This expedient was
to feign himfelf taf ; and under
pretence of hearing very imper
fedly, he would always form,is
aqfwer not by what was really said
to him, but what he desired to
have hid. Among other fervaots
was one who had lived with him
from a child, and served him with
fidelity and affedion in several ca
The fortunes of thy house (hall
totter—thy charader which led
the way to them, shall bleed on
every fide of it—thy faith queft
iohed—thy works belied—thy wit
forgotten—thy learning trampled
on. To wind up the last feene of
thy Tragedy, Cruelty and Coward
ice, twin Ruffians, hired and fee
on by Malice, in the dark, shall
strike together at thy infirmities
and mistakes : The best of us do
lie open there, —and trust one—
truft one—when to gratify a pri
vate appetite, it is once resolved
upon that an innocent and a help
left creature shall be facrificed, 'tis
an easy matter to pick up flicks
enough from any thicket where
it has strayed, to make a fire to
offer it up with.
REVENGE from some baneful
corner, fail level a tale of
dishonor at thee, which no inno
cence of heart or integrity of con
duct shall let right.
^anquet of Cornua.
the ffloraliff.
REVENGE.
EXTRACTED
FOR THE MIRROR.
Sterne.
pacifies, till at length he became
his coachman.—This mm got a
habit of drinking, for which h^
lady often defined that he migh:
be difmiffcd. My lord alwfy ^,.
fwered, “ Yes indeed, John is an
excellent fervant."—" 1 Ly, re
plies the lady) that he ie continu
ally drur.k, and dt fire that be fray
be turned off." —" Aye, (hid bin
lordship) he hit lived wi:h me
from a child, and as you fiy a
trifle of wages shall not pare c"
John, however, one evening he
was driving from Kenfing n, c.
verturned his lady io Hyd Park ;
ihe was not so much bu; but
when ihe came home she 1 egan
to rattle the earl; " He (&„
she) is that beast, fol ,so uk
he can scarce fiand ; he b? : over
turned the coach, ?nd if h/ is not
difeharged may b^k our necks."
" Aye (fay# my lord) ii fo rJebn
sick ? Alas I I am forty icrtim."
" I am complaining, (fins my la
dy) that he is chunk, ar d ha, over
turned me." 66 Aye, (ted my
lord) to be sure he has behaved ve
ry well, and shall have proper ad
vice." My lady, finding it hepe
els to remonstrate, wert away in
a pet ; and my lord, having or
d-red John into his pretence, addrefftd
him very coolly in these terms :—"John,
you knew that I have a regard for you,
and as long as you behave well >ou shall
always be taken care of in my family ;
my lady tells me you are taken ill, and
indeed I can fee that you can hardly
stand : go to bed, and I will fee that you
have proper advice."—John being thus
dismissed, was carried to bed, where by
bis lordfllip's order, who attended in
person, a large blister was put upon his
head, another between his shoulders, end
sixteen ounces of blood were taken from
his arm. John found himfelf the next
morning in a wofol condition, and was
soon acquainted with the whole process,
and the reasons upon which it had, been
commenced : he had no remedy but to
submit, for he would rather have fuffered
as many more blifterings, than have loft
his place. My lord lent very formally
twice a-day to know how he cid, and fre
quently congratulated my lady upon
John's recovery, whom he dire&ed to be
fed on water gruel, and to have no com
pany but an old woman, whom be had
ordered to attend him as a nurse. In
about a week, John having constantly
sent word that he was well, my lord tho't
fit to understand the messenger, and said,
" He was extremely glad to hear that the
fever had kft him, and desired to fee him.
When John came in—" Well John, I
hope this bout is over." 66 Ah, my lord
(fays John) I humbly ask your lordship's
pardon, and I promise never to commit
the fame fault again." " Aye, aye,
(fays my lord) you lay right, nobody can
prevent sickness, and if you should be
sick again, John, I shall fee it^though
perhaps you do not complain, and I pro
mise that you shall always have the fame
advice and the fame attendance that you
have bad now." " God bless year lord
ship (fays John) I hope there will be no
need." 'So do I too, (fays my lord) but
as long as you do your duty to me, John.
I will do mine to you, never tear.' John
then withdrew, and so dreaded the difei
pline he had fu ffered, that he never was
known to be drunk afterwards.
AN apprentice to a printer be
ing left to make up the form of a
newspaper, placed the account of
Deaths at the very bottom of the
left page— When being asked by
his master hit reason for such a
singular alteration, he replied, that
he had been directed to arrange
every thing in order, and he tho'r,
“ Death must be the ad of all."