The Litchfield County post., 1827-08-02

LIS Idces anu tEcmOieS dL th6 sOuuu OA uiS voice! The hearth is indeed dark, that he has made desOlate. There, in the dull mid night hour her griefs are whispered to herself, her bruised heart bIeeds in secret.-There, while the cruel author of her distress is drown ed in distant revelry, she holds her solitary vigil, waiting, yet dreading his return, that will only wiring her by hisunkindnes, tears ev- en more scalding than those she shed over his transgression. To fling a deeper gloom a, cross the present, memory turns back. and 5rOOds upon the past. Like the reccOllection to the sun-stricken pilgrim, of the cool spring that he drank in the morning, the joys of other days come over her as if only to mock her parched and weary spirit. She recalls the ardent lover, whose graces won her from the home of her infancy--the enraptured father, who bent with such delight over his newborn children-and she asks if this can really be him; this sunken being, who has now nothing for her but the sot's disgusting brutaIity--nothing for those abashed and trembling children, but the sot's disgusting example! Can we wonder that amidst these agonizing moments, the tended cords of vio- lated affection should burst asunder that the scorned and deserted wife should confess, ''there is no killing like that which kills the heart ?'' that though it would have been hard for her to kiss for the last time the cold lips of her dead husband, and lay his body forev- CT in the dust, it is harder to behold him SO debasing life, that even his death would he greeted in mercy! Had he died in the light of his goodness, bequeathing to his family the inheritance of an untarnished name, the ex- ample of virtues that should blossom for his sons and daughters from the tomb--though she would have wept bitterly indeed, the tears ofgrief would not have been also the tears of shame. But to behold him fallen a. way from the station he once adorned, de. graded from eminence to ignominy-at home turning his dwelling to darkness, and its holy endearments to mockery--abroad,th thrust from the companionship of the worthy "a self brand ed outlaw-this is the woe that the wife feels is more dreadful than death--that she mourns over, as worse than widowhood!
 THE 1NTEMPERATE FEMALE.
 There is yet another picture behind, from the exhibition of which would willingly be spared. have ventured to point to those who daily force themselves before the world, hut there is one whom the world does not know of--who hides herself from prying eyes even in the innermost sanctuary of the do- mestic temple. Shall dare to rend the veil that hangs between and draw her forth !-- the priestess dying amid her unhOly rites the sacrifcer and the sacrifice O, we com pass sea and land, we brave danger and death to snatch the poor victim of heather supersti-s ton from the burning pile---And it is well--- hut shall we not also save the lovely ones of our household, from immolating on this foul altar, not only the perishing body, bnt all the wOrshipped graces of her sex---the glorious attributes Ofhallowed womanhood!
 Imagination's glOOmiest revere never con ceiyed ofa more revolting object, than that of wife and mother, ,defling in her own person the fairest work of her God, and set ting at bought the holy engagements for which he created her. Her husband ---who shall heighten his joys, and dissirate his cares and alleviate his sorrows She who has robbed him of all joy. who is the source of his deepest care, who lives his sharpest sor- row ?---These are indeed the wife's delights but they are not his. Her children---who shall watch over their budding virtues, and pluck up the weeds ofpasslon and vice She in whose bosom every thing beautiful has withered, every thing grows rank Who shall teach them to bend their little knees in devotion, and repeat their SaviOur's prayer against " temptation 2" She, who is herself temptations fettered slave These are truly the mothers labOurs---but they are not hers. Connubial love and maternal tenderness bloom no longer for her. A worm has gnawed into her heart, that dies only with its prey---the worm, Lntemperance.
 Extract of letter from lady in Old Ply mouth, Mass. dated July. 2, to her friend in Albany. which will show the reverence in which the consecrated Rock is held.
 "You doubtless recollect in the early part of the revolutionary war,before Independence was declared, in the ardour of the patriotism which predominated on that day, and when mems minds were highly excited. and deter mined to be free, the inhabitants of this place, removed the rock where our ancestors land ed, at high water mark, from its native bed, to the public square. up the hill, whereon tO plant the liberty pole, the rallyi'S point of freemCn.
 "In raising it, it split in twain. which was then considered ominOus of the separation of the empire. Strangers and travellers who came here in a sort of pilgrimage. visited both parts equally. The other day, as the sun was setting, several gentlemen noticed a carriage drive up to the rock. A gentleman and lady descended and approached the rock. holding wicker basket, which they uncov cred and took from it a lovely babe, which they placed on its back on the top of the rock. The gentleman was then observed in the attitude of devotion, addressing the throne