davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
The ladies' garland. [volume] (Harpers-Ferry, Va. [W. Va.]) 1824-1828, 1825-02-26
From the Humane Hea14.
\ MURDERER'S DEATH BED.

y AORDERER'S DEATH BED.
1t was beautiful summer evening, when Susan
Lee left her fathers vicarage to visit sick girl who
resided at some distance from the wood behind the
church at ilnthorn The sun was low in the skv.
and its red and slanting rays streamed brightly
through the rich foliage, lighting up many a wind
ing glade of the now dark and silent wood the
shadows of twilight were deepening over the scene.
out the gentle Susan was fearless girl the still
ness and the gloom of night were not dreaded by
her For the last week, her walk had been through
Lnthorn wood, and although she had left home at a
later hour than usual this evening, James Allen ac-
comPanled her, and James Allen was her fathers
Old and trusty servant, whom she had seen dat
y since her childhood. Susan had passed the wood
and the waving corn-felds beyond she was walk
ing quietly down long and narrow lane, shadow
ed by the interacng branches ofth tall ems which
extended along its sides, and gazing upon the dis
tant horizon, where the rich hues of sunset had fad
ed into one pale hue of clear cold amber. while
every green tree and hedgerow had acquired
prevailing and blackened color Susan Lee loos-
ened the strings of her large straw hat, for the dav
had been sultry, and the tanning air felt delight
full it met her face and stirred the soft rings of
hair that hung round her neck. She walked on,
musinS as she walked, in a mood of pensve and
dreamy pleasure. Suddenly man eaped down
from the hedge, and stood still few yards before
her. Susan stopped too, she could not help doing
so; she turned her head half terrified, but James
Alien appeared very near, Susan walked on, but
trembed little she passed the man, and vet she
stole glance at his countenance the light which
still remained showed nothing peculiar in that coun
tenance. When Susan was leaving the cottage of
the sick girl, she recollected another cottage where
her presence was hoped for by an afflicted family.
eve will return home,' said she to her servant.
"by the road The distance is but little farther:
and wish to visit the widow Martini Although
it was as dark summer nights generally are,
when she reached home, Susan did not regret her
long dark walk, for she had made the widows
heart to sing for Joy"
Susan's father had been vicar Of Iinthorn but
few months when she took the walk I have lust
mentioned. The character which their conduct
has since established among the Pensioners was
then scarcely known. Susan Lee had resided 81
The ladies' garland. [volume] (Harpers-Ferry, Va. [W. Va.]) 1824-1828, 1825-02-26

favor with God. No no nothing can save me
now y " While life remains" replied Susan
There is hope through our Saviour, for the worst
sinner; and as for me, you are mistaken, you never
injured me-" The man. with an exertion of strength
that astonlshed Susan raised himself up in the bed.
and Wiplng away the cold sweat that hung on his
forehead, stared again at her, and said 81 cant be
mIstaken your name is" Susan Lee" she
replied The man tried to speak, but his mouth
opened widely, and for some moments he continu-
ed speeches. At length he said with difficulty,
you are IN the same room with the man who once
tried to murder you p the terrified Susan felt una
bic to stir, and sat in GREATNESS horror at was
summers night" he said ssabout five wears ago. /
jumped down from the hedge in the Elms Lane"
81 remember now,o she said feeby "Ah - re-
pied the man, 81 have not told you yet had
watched you pass that way for many evenings it
was too early then, but | waited till midnight for
your return; Thank God, thank God, you did not
come back that way [ and another stood in that
hedge, cursInG you, and raising our guns whenever
we thought footstep sounded near. MANY time
did lift that guns and when the clock of the vii
lage struck twelve, we turned away, cursing YOU
''iiN '"N"ii'i5 i0NoliSe y revenge ~ inquired
Susan, timidly but eagerly, "what had done
How had offended you ?" "There was house.
where they sold spirits secretly" answered the
man C the people who kept it were devils there
1t was that first became one woman of the
village, broken-hearted wife, told you Of that
house; you spoke to your father, and the trade
was put downs my companion heard this from
your servants. | was always like mailman when
enraged. l swore to be reyenged-Thank Cod
thank God, did not do it - he added, claspne
his hands closely together, while his whole BODY
shook. He stopped speaking, and Susan could
not withdraw her eyes from gazing on him. Again
his mouth opened, and his eyes glared vacantly-
There was something more horrible about his coun
tenance, infinitely more horrible, than the most ex
presslve villainy. Wickedness seemed to have
worn away, to have blotted out every expression
but that Of dull blank vacancy and, though his
words were SO expressive of his feelings his face
appeared to have the powers ofexpression. There
was dead silence. The man slowly recovered
himself, and said to her. "Can you forgive me now?''
Susan could hardly articuate the word, "Yes,' in
low voice ooh !" said he wildly, snow YOU
adevll You cannot forgive, you cannot even speak
to me - 81 do forgive you, said Susan instantly.
may God forgive you freely as forgive YOU
with my whole heart; may God bless you.'' "Bless
me} can yoU say SO Yes, know YOU can for
1t was but the next day after that cursed evening,
{l-LV
The ladies' garland. [volume] (Harpers-Ferry, Va. [W. Va.]) 1824-1828, 1825-02-26

'NOiii,
10 entreat that she would come to him. Her father
was IN London; Susan went down herself to speak
to the person who had brought the message:-he
was an old white headed man, his only son was
dying and while he spoke of his child's danger
he Wept. There were years in that chds life''
he sad, which might have been, he feared years of
Wlckedness. He had left home a strone, hearty
man, he had come back changed indeed and he
cannot die, madam said the old man, he can
not die until he has seen you'' Susan hestated
and looked at James Allen the old servant was
taxing down the lantern. 81 will so instantly"
said Susan. She went forth in the dark cold night
to visit the hut of the dying man. One deep, dull
mass of clouds s1rted the horizon, and shrouded
the whole sky their path lay through the wood;
and, although the trees were nearly Ieafess, the
gloom OF the wood seemed quite impenetrable-
The narrow path was scarcely visible by the partial
CLEAN of the lantern, and the cutting wind swept
through the forest while the very stems of the trees
seemed to bend beneath its force all around her
was dreary and dismal, yet Susan walked calmly
but not cheerfuy; for she was visiting DIVING man.
The path soon turned away by the banks of rush
ing stream; they passed over narrow foot bridge
and then walked about quarter of mile, over an
open heath, and arrived at a lone howell A light
twlnkled family at the upper easement and as Su-
san entered, she heard faultering step descending
the shattered stairs. very infrm old woman aD-
peared, and the light which she carried threw a fit
tul CLEAN on her thin and Wrinkled face, wet with
tears.
Susan waited few minutes, and then, at the old
mans request, she followed him to the chamber of
his son she approached the low bed on which the
dying man lay Cliff me up, father - said he
The old man placed the candle on a table near the
bed and with difficulty raised his son, proppng up
his head with the tattered clothes which lay beside
hum. Now, father" said the man. "wiE YOU
leave me alone with the lady ," A slight feeling
OF horror crept through the gentle girls heart, as
she saw the old man quit the room. and listened 70
his feet, till they sounded on the last stair The
dying man looked round the room. and in a low
voice requested Susan to close the door. She
rembled as she did So and half unwilling returned
to his bed side. The man fixed his ey.s earnestly
on her face Susan drew back, but looked uDon
the countenance before her. There was no narti
cular expression on the features they were thick
and heavy, and their expression was dull blank.
" you wished to see me-" said Susan. and knew
not what more to say. "I did, l did, said he
Promise me- lady, not to leave me till have told
you what lies SO heavy my heart Promise-do
promise me ~ s. do promise - eaid Sueop op1
The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register., 1825-10-27
THE BURIAL OF TIE YOUNG.

There was an open gravc--;ind many AN eye
Looll'd down upon it. Slow the sable hcarse
Mov'd oil, as if reluctantly it bore
The Young, unwearied form to that cold couch
Which age and sorrow render sweet to man.
There secmd sadness in the humid air.
Lifting the long grassf frcm those vcrdant mounds
Where slumbcr mutitudcs-
There WAS . tram
Ofyo,,ng, fair females with their brows Of bloom
And shining tresscs. Arm anil arm they came,
And stood upon the brink ofthat dark PIT,
In pensye beauty, waiting the approach,
Of their companion. shriNas wont to ny
And meet them, US the gay bird meets the
spring
brushing the dew-drop from Tie morning fow'rs;
And breathing mirth and gladncss. -folc sue
came
With movements fashion'd to the deeP-toncd
bell
She came with mourning sire, and so,rowing
friend
And tears ofthosc who at her side were nurs'd
BY the same mother
All! and one was there
Who ere the falling of the snnlncrrosc
Had hop'd to greet her as his bride. Bat Death
Arose between them. The pale lover watci'd
So close, her journey through the shatlowy vale
That almost TO his heart, the ice Of death
Enter'd from hers. There was brilliant flush
Of youth about hcr-and her Einiiing eye
pour'd such uncarthly light, that hope would
hang
Ev'n on the archcr's arrow, while it !lropp'd
Deep poison Many restless night she TOLD
For that slight breath which held her from the
tomb,
Still wasting like snow-wreath, which the sun
Marks for his own, on some cool mountains
breast,
Yet spares, and tingcs long with rosy light.
Oft DER the musings of her silent couch,
Came visions of that mitron from which hcnt
With n;irsing tenderness TO sooth and bless
Her cradle dream and her cmaciatcd hand
In trembling pray'r she ais'd-that he who sav'd
The 3lnted mother, would redeem the child.
Was the oriion lost t'-Whence then that peace
So dove-likc, setting DER soul that lov'd
Earth and its Observation-Disclosures that angelic
smile
With which the allurcments Of Il work. so deal
Were counted and rcsign'df that cloquencc
So fondly urging those whose hearts We're ful
! OF sublunarY happiness, to seek
A better portion, Whence that voice of JOY,
| Which from the marble lip Of lifc's last strife
Burst forth, to hail her everlasting homcP
Cold reas'ners! be CONVINCED. And when ys
stand
Where that fair brow and those unflpstcd lock-
Return to dust-where the young sleeper wait
The resurrection mon-Oh! lift the heart
Irpraise Of Him, who gave the victory.
The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register., 1825-10-27
OCTOBER ~, 1925.
THE CONDUCT OF LIFE.


Shakespear, combined, perhaps, more
than any man that ever lived. thorough
knowledge of the world, with great poet
ical genius Many passages from his works
may be cited to verify this opinion-but the
extract which follows is sufficient poot of
the assertion. This quotation from Hamlet,
might be written in the pocket-book of ey-
cry young man, just entering the world, and
be occasionally referred to, with advantage.
There is no condition of life to which the
counsel will not apply, and almost every
person may be confidently appealed to, III
some one instance or another, for its just
ness and truth. 1t is the advice of father
to a son setting OUT on his travels:
"Givc thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportioncd thought his act
Be thoa familiar, but by no means vulgar
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks Of steel,
But do Mt duh Thy palm with entertainment
OF each new -atchd, untlcdgcd conlradc.
Beware Of entrance to q quarrel being i'll,
Bear it. that the oppose may beware OF thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:
Take each mans ccnstire, but reserve thy judg-
nent.
Neither borrower nor lendcrbe,
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of hsbantliy.
This, above ALTO thine own self be true,
And il must follow, as the night the day,
Thou carst not then be false to any other man. =
The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register., 1825-10-27
tpI1.hH1.EGssYo .
From Me albany Microscope.
THE LAST ROSE.

I saw a rosc--!t was the last,
That bloom'd upon the parent stem;
The time OF how'rs, all! now had past,
And none was left but this sweet gem;
It's lovely sisters all had died
The tender fpwrcts all had gone
But it was young, and in its pride;
To Time, the wth'rcr, quite unknown.
NJ storm had touch'd it-and away
Did Zephyr, with his slken wing,
Drive the too warm depressing ray
That plirbus, else, would OH it fling.
hill evenings bright and bamy tear,
That dropt upon its blushing breast,
secm'd loath to quit its lovely bier,
Aud close, and closer 10 it prest.
I saw that rose wther and fade;
Again pass'l-the tree WAS bare;
Obvion's dark, and silent shatle,
ycil'd the sweet rose that flourisl'd there.
I've seen, like this forgotten how'r,
The form Of beauty fade and fly;
in all IT'S dazzling, bo,ndless, pow'r,
Alas! I've seen the phantom die.
we see Life, like this lovely rose,
Bloom for il while, then pass away;
Anon it comcs--anon t goes,
Like bubbles of the foan,ng spray.
AMI Youth is like the roses bloom,
Swift passing AS the whirlwihd's breath:
A thing to fill the loathsome tomb,
And show the mighty pow'r of Death.
The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register., 1825-10-27
SERIOUS REFLUCTIoNS.
a SCEPTIC IN RELIGION,

Is one that hangs in the balance with di-
vers opinions, whereof no one has sufficient
influence to determine him. He is a man,
guiltier of credulity than he pretends to be;
for it is ont of the fulness of his belief that
he believes nothing. Each religion frightens
him from its contrary; but none persuades
him to itself. He would be wholly Chris
tan, but that he is partly deist; and Who'll
" deist but that he is partly Christians:
and perfect atheist, but that he cannot ac
count for series of infinities. He finds
reason in all opinions, but truth i'll none; in
deed, the least reason pcrp!eXes him, and
the best will not satisfy him. lie finds
doubts and scruples better than resolves
them; and is always too hard for himself.
His learning is too much for his brain, and
his Judgment too little for his learning, and
his over weaning opinion of both spois all.
lie Uses occasionally the religion Of his coun-
try, because il is next him, yet he sees no
reason why he may net take another; but he
chooses this, not as a better, but because
there is not a pin to choose. twas his mis-
chance to be scholar, for it only contounds
and perplexes him. He argues much in
general upon the uncertainty of our opinions
and the possibility of erring deters him from
searching for the truth. He is troubled
with the opinion that particular religions
are naturalized in different countries; that
protestanism should be born i'll England 4
Holland, and popery in Spain and Portus.l,
and the worship of Mahomet i'll Asia. His
principles and opinions are as unsteady as q
weathcrcock, and are invariably governed,
not by the strongest, but the last arguments
Goodwin, Paine, and De Volney, by turns,
lead, or rather mislead him; and as these
redoubtcd champions OF immutanle truth
not sniy individually, but collectively, differ
i'll opinion from each other; he 's' by turns,
a disciple of the three. He has small por-
tion Of all religions. and you may sooner
pick out of him part of many varieties,
than one whole In fine, his whole life is
question, and his salvation greater
which death only concludes, and then he is
| resolved.
The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register., 1825-10-27
THE SLAVE TAKER.
AN EXTRACT.

at would be useless, if it were in my
power, to detail in what manner became
a professcd negro taker. To that infamous
character | sunk at last, and for six wears
gained a disgraceful subsistence by traffic in
human flesh. Among other transactions OF
that period, the apprehension and taking
away of James, a negro man, belonging 10
the estate of Mr.. RI, of Albemarle, .ex-
hibits degree of tlepravity of which was
once incapable, and at the recollection OF
which my soul is narrowed up by torments
At the death of Mr.. e.,
James passed into the possession OF those
who ill-trea.ed him, and he ran away.
When | fell in with him, he resided on
small lot in New-Jersey, with ms wHe, a
free woman, whom he had married whilc
in Virginia, and contrlved 10 oriis away
with him. and three children 1t was late
at night, that after losing some nours on
fnot nv III fortune and his, led me. like
,,rn'yl;ny fend TO his hut. He ministered to
NV NV necessities' gave me food and his own
,a, - lie IN while he and his wife occupi-
.cd chairs by the fire (; and in the morning
ht walked some miles to put he on my right
way.
man a small reward he wsuld take no.
thing.
There was remarkable scar on the chin
of my guide whieh dwelt upon my memory
after had left him. Months had passeA
away when my eye lit upon an advertise
ment in an old paper. of James master, of
fering a large reward for his apprehension.
| knew at once. from the description, it was
nv hospitablc entertainer of New-Jersey.
Callous as had become, shuddered at
the, idea Of betcayinE him, which shot a
The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register., 1825-10-27
VOL. III.

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c-jrNo Subscription will be discontinuedunless
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~;
The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register., 1825-10-27
A TALE.

Among the wicked crew,
Where lawless capcrs blight
The face of Nature,
There are few
Who make it still their pleasure and delight,
TO worry and torment a fellow creature.
Now such an one
Was M*** Ma,
A favored votary off fun,
Call'd by his comrades witty Jacky.'
He us'd to say, 'the love of evil
Was for our happiness implanted in US;
And that in truth he grudg'd the d.
The privileges of plaguing sinners
Now beasts of prey,
$50 learn'd people say)
Avoid the light:
Just so our wight
Kept Matching mischief all the day
To perpctratc at night.
And once, when winter did its very best
To give mankind shiver,
And sent that coolest of fcold wind, northwest,
To make all quver:
The mercury might stand below
(Somc nine or ten degrees or SOY
The zero.
Mufflcl with cap and fcar-nonght warm,
That LAUGHED the angry blast to scorn,
Forth rush'd our hero,
An;i careful sought, (thc night, was pitchy dark
The hoasc of one John Mutt,
The butt,
On whom this son of mischief set his mark.
With laundering racket,
He wak'd the man, who hurried on his jacket
And Cpd the easement,
And stared (twas very naturaD with great
amazement;
'Sw,' quoth the fellow, scan you tell
In which house Mr.. John Mutt does dwcllD
MY name is Mutt the man replied
'Indced,' the other cried
sJohn Nuts the man meant
sWcll my names John:
So if you've any thing to say
1 beg you would without delay,
Go on
Sir said therogue, with tone and phiz demure
Y would mt keep you waiting, but
''ris of Importance that should be sure
That you are certainly John Mutt
'Zounds, quoth the man, 'what do you mean
tell you once again,
My names are Mutt and John,
And both together make John Mutt,
Which man
am;
But if this window isn't quickly shut,
sha'n't be long'
We'll then, n,'-return'l the other, very slow
'Since it is So
I'll tell you what's the matter.
You may conclude 'ts nothing light
That sends me here on such night,
With such a clatter,
So rudely to attack you:
So, ifyour name is certainly John Mutt,
Why then the ID crack you!'
The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register., 1825-10-27

The following Tale is versi6cation of an an
ectlotc which had been Thousand times related
|sfone of the most facetious wags that ever took
helght in IIoaxing Nj M-was a native
pf Roston, and many Of his mischcvous frolics
IRE still fresh in the memory Of his cotempora-
fies. This metricai story Of one of his midnight
eapers, we are assured from good authority, was
written few days ago at Harvard College, and
Irccited by the author at one of the public cxhi-
Ibitvns Of the senior class.
New England Gaigry.
The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register., 1825-10-27
THE SETTLER.
"Merrily, merrily peals the horn,
sNAhlc sweet the birds are singing,
"..nd gaily blooms the waving corn,
sAnd tht woodsman'sayt, is ringing,


ssAnd gay blooms the waving corn,
aAnd the woodsman'sa is ringing"
There are two words in our language
which serve as finger points to point out
unerrinely the road to fortune. Guided by
them no one can ever fail with magic pow
er they battle the storms of fortune, and
turn back the food of ill upon its source;
their results are sure, though every thing
Else in the world is measurably uncertain;
their reward may be calculated on, while all
otsar calculations depend upon vague and
variable circumstances. Shall name Them?
they should be taught to lisping children.
Shall comment Oh them! they should be
practsed from youth to age. Hear it--In-
dustry and Perseverance combined, IS the
far famed Philosophers stone which turns
Whatever it touches into gold. 1t is the ba-
sis of fortune-thc pillar OF usefulness, and
the KEY stone of wisdom round which all the
virtues move.
The family and relatives of an ancient IN
habitaut of II. had assembled IT his late res
idence. a week after dccease, to hear iii what
manner he wiletl the disposal OF his proper
ty. He had large and lucrative farm and
three children grown up to be young men.
The eldest was dccrecd the estate, and as
was the custom in those days, the two young,
brothers were left small legacy each, IA
sum sufficient" said the words OF the tesla
ment, with industry and perseverance to
found a fortune on.'' "Our father" said
Charles, unmoved when he heard the sum
of his fortune, .sleayes US a valuable portion:
The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register., 1825-10-27
A WORD For THE LADIES

NEW SERMONS TO OLD TEXTS.
Whoso finding Uve.fndeth good thing"
would not be unconrteous, but this text
sPpears tpll Of truth-full of Wit, and full OF
The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register., 1825-10-27

In Capt. Halls Journal of cruise to
Mey;c-, and South America, we have tle