OCR Interpretation

The western star. (Westfield, N.Y.) 1826-1828, June 08, 1827, Image 4

Image and text provided by Western New York Library Resources Council

Persistent link: http://nyshistoricnewspapers.org/lccn/sn85025341/1827-06-08/ed-1/seq-4/

Thumbnail for 4
*. #octrp. THE WIFE— A Sketch. She stood beside the dying corse of him To whom Ler heart ia trusting youth was link'd, And lightly, on his forehead, cold and damp. Whose low faint throb had nearly ceased, one hand Was resting, and the other still held fast His own within its fond and trembling clasp. Death's icy grasp was laid upon him now, And fitfully beneath the tyrauts touch, Life's current was congealing in his veins. He was too weak to utter all his thoughts; that God would grant hcri Eliza. Surely, we have no cause otherwise than cheerful and happy- me A silcrit pray' strength In this dark hour of desolating thought; And none but He can tell the inwa The burst of thought, that agoniz heart: And then she rose with calm and holy look, But here is this Ellen, who can turn the Yet linger'd still besjde his couch, & press'd g avC st scene into melancholy and sadness. Once more the lips still dear to her, though |)M1 yQU ^^ ^ ^ becn giving me a And cold and still,they answer'd not her kiss. I sorrowful lecture on the morning and even- But there was one, who stood unmaiVd the I ing ! while— [down, | Ellen. You mistake me, Eliza, I am not > to be I debt, for which his landlords agent, n I lUc younger children entered hast*- -ted man, had become very .; running to cniiciie the alterations that ., .„ il)rfSS1 ncr. James was too uprMit in U,ad been made, and to form plans o f SViTTfr '•• not sec a11 nature say arou,id US 7\ nrincmle to promise payment Within a improvement in their garden. But the ,iz'd her fu » moon ' now ri.ing in the east, rem, . uds p .\\ £ ei : od / f or he knew that many mother paused for a moment, and, wiih that the convivial throng is assembling. j; rous U10n t„s alone could enable a icBVot pleasure in her eye, looked him to recover the ground he had lost A distress was therefore levied on his Her sportive boy, whose glee was chasten'd He knew not why, till from his eye a tear Spi ung forth, and, coming to the bed, he took His mother's hand, and said unconsciously, Mother, how long till father will awake ?\ But some faint niurmuring from his lips es- And then burst forth from the seald springs cap'd, [eyes, Wbioh none but she might hear: yet still his UndimmM spake forth the fondness of his heart; [siou And yet sometimes would a strange exprcs- Elash out beneath his drooping heavy lid, And he would turn his eye away from her, And press convulsively her hand in his, As tho' somp maddening thought shot thro' his brarm, Then turn to her again a troubled look, And send forth all his rising soul in one Uncalm yet fond and half imploring glance. —W hat secret feeling closed his bosom then ? of grief, The tears that she tho't she would restrain; For she had ncrv'd herself to bear her wo, And watch'd until her heart grew strong I and firm,— But, ah ! she could not brook, unmov'd, that voice And look of her fair boy, betwixt a tear And sfnilc, that came so sudden on her heart: It spoke to her of joys departed long, And hopes deceiv'd,and sorrows yet to come, And all the utter darkness of her fate; And tcar> flow'd fast aud long, and chok'd the pray'r That would have risen fur her orphan boy. sad. These feelings, though they subdue and dispel the natural levity of my disposi- tion, never make me gloomy. It is true, they would render me unhappy in the midst of jollity and mirth ; but could we read the over the hedge, and contemplated the familiar objects around her with a feel. house'and land ; and James Moriand | ing that none could understand, bat „„.i i.;« familv were driven lrom the those who knew the circumstances enn and his family were driven uo»\ ««•; UWK W»U «.«.«=« tm. circumstances con- ancient dwelling of their forefather?,! netted with her history. After gaair,, with no other possession than honest for a short time, she turned her look*. ward heaven, clasped her hands, and wept in grav'ide and joy. She had hearts, and a humble dependence on Him whom they knew clothed the lair flowers of the beautiful garden, and pro- vided homes for the little chirping spar- rows that nestled in the thatch of the hearts of those who make merry on such [cottage from which they were exiled The whole family had passed tin- I saw them once.when in their youthful prime When their first dreams of love and life were bright [ing up With hope, and fragrant flowers were spring- Alongthcir pathway through asmihng world; No blighting fell upon their sunny hopes, To bar the pledging of their heart's fond thoughts ; [seal'd— And soon their mutual faith and vows were She gave her heart, her all in Lustingness, To him who vow'd to love thro' weal or vvoe; And wheu she fondly laid her head upon His manly breast, she deem'd that o'er tUcir love [come:— And bliss, no dark'ning cloud of fate would But tho iri youth within his heart no thought, Save of her angel loveliness then dwelt, And lie had bow'd his soul before her shrine, In all the fond idolatry of love. There came at last a change across their fate: For when the open guilelcssness of youth Had passed to manhood's darker brow of care. And he had mingled in the selfish crowd, And thus it is with woman—her fond heart Must still be plac'd in perfect trust on some False dream of joy, some cloudlet of the sky Which fancy throws high o'er our heads in youth And then must see it molt away, and leave A dark'ning thunder cloud, that bursts its folds, And in its fiery storm shatters her hopes. She hath no second chance, for all i-s ri^k'd At once; and if she fails, she fails for aye. Yet still so fond, so weak, so slight a thing, Shrinking from e'en the summer wind, and one [guard Who seems as made tor man to watch and Will brave the blasts of adverse fate un- mov'd ; And by the strong endurance of her love. Will ri«c, with mind ehstick* from the storm Which lays the pride of manhood's daring low;— [turn And though the lov'd, the chosen one should occasions, we might possibly discern that the air of gaiety they assume, is but a cov- ering for sadness. Indeed, Eliza, when you awake to-morrow, and walk in your arbours, not to hear the lark, nor to inhale the fra- grance of the morning, but to meet the dry- ing rays of the bun, at half midday hour, when the fresh breeze is dispelled, and the dew lingers not upon the herbage—then, as you reflect on the dream of hilarity you arc now anticipating—perhaps then a transient gloom may steal over your languid spirits. Eliza. Come, Hiram, it is time for us to be going—the party is already assembling. Edwin. Ellen, I have just becn visiting the cottage of poor Sarah—she is ill and needs our assistance—will you accompany me thither ? Ellen. I will, with all mv heart. [Exeunt.] threshold, and had lingeied for some minutes in the garden. The wife had wept when she quitted the spot, and ta e now wept on retaining to it—she bad been then resigned, and slfe was now had been then resigned, and she **, now thankful; Uut from how 'different ,i source did those tears proceed !—?;,. had then faith in the promise, that m &r!cction$. Chang'd their first freshness to a pois'uing to\ The stainless streams of earlj noble feeling ; J\£*« ^orn away, yet will she oding Where lust she twin d; and if at last she nice* [repaid, , . , .1,1 Bot one kind word will deem her wrongs \nd row the home tnat he was wont to call . , ... - .. » 1 ' ,. , r . ,- , .„ „ , „,:,,i,. ! And, still confiding, prove the faithiul one. IIH paradise, was left lor haunts and mirth;j And bo Would hold his midnight revelling*, j Startling the silence of the night by wild i And heartless joyaace, till his heart had lost; All trace of purity—then hie him home. And chide hi* onceador'd till she would weep, And he would wake her infant then, to blend JAMES MORLAND— The Cvltagrr. '• Never saw I the righteous forsaken.''— Ps. Tlie cottage of James Moriand was given her infant to the care of her eldestj would net be forsaken, and she now saw boy, and was gazing through the half j that promise fulfilled, open lattice, into the late cheerful and Her husband had been busy onload, happy parlour. The tears had gath-jing his car ; but she hud frequemly i». ered in her eyes, as she tiained up and tempted bim by asking if the hones. fastened a branch of the honeysuckle; suckle was yet in bloom—If his favour- that had given way, and then plucked j ite rose tree still lived—if tlie lilies had one of its many blossoms, on which she j their blossoms—or some question of e looked earnestly, as if bidding farewell j qual interest to him who asked, as to to the beautiful tree she bad so long her who was questioned. watched and cherished. The mourn-! Their dog must not be forgotten ful group of children gathered round , their old dog, who had shared their ad- her, and endeavoured to attract her at- J v« rsity, and who now participated in tention by questions as to which of their their happiness. He marched with a flowers they should carry with them.! slow and stately pace, through each The poor, afflicted mother turned round ; walk of the remembered garden, as i; —she could contain heiself no longer: • lie recognized an acquaintance in even but clasping each by turn to her bosom, shtnb and llower ; then went and ca- she wept bitterly as she bade '• Clod . prred round his master, and then went bless them.\ The husband, full of bus-; and lay panting at the cottage door, tie and apparent carelessness, had en-1 In a few minutes, the whole family tered his cottage, to see that nothing | were seated in their little parlour, to had becn left behind ; but when he re-; which an air of comfort bad ahead} turned, it was evident that its bare walls been given. A prayer was said, and a and its desolate appearance, had weigh- hymn was sung, and they took posse: - ed heavily upon him. He looked on | sion of tin ir dwelling. the prettiest, and in one of the most ro- mantiek villages of the # county of Devon. Its site had been well chosen, for it \ bis wife, suppressed a heart-sob, and Original. commanded an extensive prospect of 1 exclaimed, \ Come, my Mary, take up the surrounding country, and yet had !> our child, and God will guide us to j the shelter of the neighboring hills to ,some other resting place.''\ The lam- noted it from the inclemency of the Hj passed through the little gate of ffAS opened an office,™ the brick bade less gentle winds. It stood sufficiently '• ihefc garden—again turned to gaze on \ »ng one doer south of Henry Abell't- distant fiom the v ill ace to lose all its ibeii once happy home, and went their M \ - } - lt) -'- _ 48tf Attorney av Law (wrsrnr.i.n.) l on Its wailing with her tears of bitterness. And she—the injured one—her heait had swelled In silence with its load of cank'ring griefs. Until she might no lunger keep it down— And then 'twas broken.—Yet she murmur'd not, Nor told her plaint to any save to heaven, Hut cdmk drank her bitter cup of wo; And when her daily lot was stilt to bear Wnkindness and abuse, she answer'd not, Save by her tears, and meekly bore it all, And strove to still her agony Of heart. Till: WESTEK3 STAR. SCENE— 1 C rove. Er.r.FN AND Ei.rzA. Eihn. Well, Eil/.a, this is a charminjr evening—the sun, jest disappearing in the bustle, but was near enough to partici- pate iti all its conveniences. A little bye-path led past its door to tlie parish church ; and on the sabbath the villa- gers would pause on their w.-.y to ad- way. Their dog had been a spectator of the scene, and he seemed perfectly con- scious of tbe sorrow that had (alien on his master's house, as he run from one mire the neatness of the dwelling, or to i member of it to another, vhtned and j inhale the fragrance of the sweet flow- wagged his tail to each, and then lay I ers that blossomed with every season,' down in a farther part of the garden, J •rest, gives a crimson tint to the blue ex-j in the well cultivated and well weeded gazing wistfully on the group. lie had | pause—the plaintive notes of the wkippoor- T. A. OSSORPIE, Attorwe} al \A\\V, (r.TAYvn.i.E.) UJ business entrusted to his care shall re• e prompt attention. ALLn •*• *• cciv j will already fill the air, and the fresh breeze 1 from the lake, as it glides gently oser the i landscape below, imparts a renewing vigour i to exhausted nature, languishing on the eve of a long summci's day. But, sublime as it I cannot gaze upon flic scene before us, MORTGAGE SALES. •ViY\ virtue of a power contained in a ecr <*? tain mortgage, bearing date tbe set- , ond day of April, l!il4, executed by Philip «arden, or to greut their neighbour asjmaiked the last of the children pass! L. Stephens and Elizabeth Stephens his wile, he went forth to worship, with his wife 1 through the gate, and then he walked to Joseph Ellicott, nee* deceased, for sccu. and his five children—so manv models ' leisurely out; but when he had gone a ! nog the payment oi a certain sum of .noncy. of what an English yeoman and his j few steps, he returned, ^^^^g^ZS^SSi^^Si (amity should be. the hedge, howled a piteous adieu, and U^ county, on tbe hrenty\ eighlh day of The cottage had been in the posses- 'scampered after his old lriends. j j,.i v n(X t, at one o'clock in the afterr.roia ci sion of James Moriand and his ances- i James Borland was known through- j that day, :dl that certain tract of land, sitr.- few fleeting days upon the heart of affection, his par , ni . r early in life, and he had then pass away and forgotten. EJixa. Yes, Ellen, this is titdv a beaoti m ight have slept unaw;;kcned. The a rci tain other map or survey of said town- oerlected his opportunities of providing I worth of the vessel » not known ia «*!•• •*• lot * made for the laaHoUand against a « rau.v season.- When lie calms-its value and strength ure onlv | F^f°' B ^V b ^^^J?^ And without one rcpr Fondly she tended him, as two' he ne*cr Had dasli'd her cap of earthly happiness.— And now his heart was soften'd and sobdu'd : He felt that be had wronged her—and the ; ful evening—I am charmed with thc-ublim- Of scif'upbraiding «»te •*•. • he thought! '^ of _ thc sccne ' an ' 1 **&** to inhale the Upon her patient sufferance of his hate, j And how she was rcpaving ail her wrings With fond devotedness, when all the rest | the setting sun, nor can Idiscovcrany thing! Ja«MS had married well— veil in the | hour and are Inavy Jaden, and who call | «« mortgage above mentioned, thence died— And bequeathed to his son a good narac is distinguished by part of lot number two, I ia said township, beginning at a stone, en James was not deserted by h;s neigh-; ttl( , shor0 0 f ] a | ie Erie, being the north ca- proved by buiTeting the tempest. fresh fragrance of the evening breeze ; but I ; ie l e fi hj m scarcely anv other inheri- hours, nor was h e forsaken by that triend j comer of land, conveyed to Daniel L. An- really, I never thought of moralizing upon! lance. * 'j who hath promised rest to nil who la-j drews, by deed, bearing even date with the Forsook him in hi* hour of deepest need— , . , , . And be would oftentimes have cravd of her S ° cnchant '»S ' D ** ^rsh discordant notes Forgiveness for his ills—but she would stop of thc whippoorwill His words, and with a smile would say to him The pa-t was buried in oblivion, And that he must not weary out his strength. Hut now be felt that life was ebbing fast. And that he could not leave this world in peace, Without he I13 eas'd his bosom of its load Of guilt—and therojore had his eyes such wild [hand And troubled looks; and when sfie took her Ellen. I love thc evening fur pensive hours ; but in the morninsr, all nature is jrav and cheerful. the night breeze has dispelled the sultry vapours of thc atmosphere, and the air assumes its wonted freshness; the sound ot toe a.\.o .t,K.iin.,ui, (UM I U _ forest; the smith is heard from yonder village at his anvil; flie lambs skip playfully over the green mounds upon thc hills ; thc birds only sense in which the word can bej^himfor auk lie was in poverty, applied to marriage. His wife was one but stdl Ins dependence on Ood con ; forty ; cvcn chains w a s{on ^^ buvn bounding on said conveyed land, SOUUi, twentv seven degrees fortv five minutes cast. Ev- close [Heav'n Her face, while from her heart went up to with renewed brightness and splendour, I am forcibly reminded that thc desolate and dreary abode of dcclh—thc dark and silent tomb shall not always be the boasted recep- tacle of\ man's faded glory\—tlrat \ Oa thc cold cheek of death smiles and roses arc blending, \ And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb. Eliza. What! turned philosopher? I never think on such dull subjects ; and if I did, what have thc morning and evening to do with them ? True, I like to walk of a charming evening; but I seldom indulgo in morning excursions. Come, come—cheer up—away with your melancholy, and let us hie away to the party. [Enter EDWIN and HIRAM, in different di- rections.] Hiram. Good eveniug, ladies, fgrncc- fully lowing.] Shall wc have the exquisite happiness of participating with you in tlie festivities of ths evening ? Eliza. [Eagerly.] With the greatest pleasure. Eduyin. Well, my friends, you seem all cheerful and happy. That smile on your countenance, Hiram, indicates a joyous heart. The scene before our eyes, is charming, and calculated to enliven our feelings, and impart to our bosoms a placed tranquillity. Lord. Religion always brings content- ment, and without contentment there is no happiness. Its effects were mani- lest not only In tbt.ii own characttis and conduct, and in the dispositions and habits of their young familv. but From off! brow, and laid it on her brea.t, *mg sweetly and blitheh in thc grove; and I j? ^cir domestick nrrangements, Vnd in To still thc beatings of her bursting heart; 'all animated nature seems just awakened heir a \^ l,on to tW con ^\* »nd Gath'riagh.swcaken'dpowers.soastothrow from rcfrcshinff s l umbcr . But , v ,, cn thc hUmbl Into his last attempt some strength of mind, . , With tone so changU from that of by-past SUD affain a PP ears from ***** thc h,IIs > time, < That she half started at its ltollow sound, lie said, M I know that soou my heart must stop , [touch— Its boatings, and be still at death's cold Nay-hear me now-for I must speak this once And tell thee, ere my lips are scald for aye, How I have wrong'd thec, and to pray that this My last departing hour may hear thee bless— No, no-noVtliat-I dare not ask thy blessing- May hear thee pardon him whose troubl'd . heart Hath well aton'd for all its crimes, if pain And suffering can atonement make for siu. I cannot HI thee all that fills my breast, For voice and sighfarc failing fast awav. Stoop down,and look once more as thou wcrt wont, If thou wilt pardon mc.\ She knelt beside J lis bed, and laid her pallid check on his, And kindly said, \ Oh, speak not thus, my love ; Tlie past is all forgotten :—nay, look up— Thou must not leave me now.\ A groan burst forth— [one kiss— \ This is too kind—my heart will burst— Heav'n bless thee pardon love my own \ • |- tne .. Blest Mary, would his lips have spoken, but ; ^\ ere still in death, and his dark eye fell glaz'd • And coldly set 'neath its unstirring lid. And she, the fond one knelt beside him still, Gazing with burning eye, yet shed no tear; And then she bow'd her head, and buried vho fell and enjoyed the blessings of j tinued firm, as in h:s better uays r.v-1 ,,, ng . on r , art of lot number live, north religion, and his Children were brought J ery morning and evening his tanuly met j sixty two degrees fifteen minutes cast, up in the nurture and admonition of the at Payers, as they had always done ; \ twenty chains, ninety three links, to a stone. everv Sunday saw them at church, as u>cnce ou a line parallel with the north cn-- ueatlT, thouali not as well dressed as on ! lcrn houndeof the and land, conveyed totto & c ii„ti>c. ft,,... i.„.„ saul Andrews, north, twentv seven degrees more prosperous Sabbaths, their bom , for(v ^ J££ ^ ^ c ^ ble dwelling was as cheerlul and n seventy two links to a stone, on the shore ef happy as it had formerly been, and, said take, thence up .-aid lake, and btxrod- within it they had soon smiling faces! ing thereon, to the pl-.'.ce of beginning, eon e elegancies which made their home as attractive as it was substan- tially valuable. James had never any temptation to leave it, because he could no where have found so much enjoy ment as in Ids own house; where his cheerful Mary and his smiling little ones recompensed his labour when done, or lightened by (heir influence bis daily toil. The ways of Providence are often most mysterious; but to tbe eye of faith there is always some convincing evi- dence, that when the virtuous are af- flicted, their trials are sent to prove and not to crush ; that their strength may be seen in trouble, and that their excel- lence in adversity may be like the per- fume of bruised flowers—more power- ful in its effects, and more extensively useful. Mary Moriand had given birth to a sixth child ; but her severe and dangerous illness Irad for several weeks prevented her husband from attending to his work. She had scarcely recov- ered, when their cow died, and two of their sheep were stolen. These mis- fortunes obliged Janfcs, for the first time in his life, to be in arrears with bis rent. He hoped, however, to be ready with it after harvest; but in consequence of his wife's confinement, bis crop was very late, and the wet season had com- menced before it was gathered in.— Other difficulties came upon him, and he saw no possibility of discharging the and contented hearts. James had now to begin the world again ; and his course was one of such prosperity, as to make his success a sort of proverb among his neighbours; while it reminded them, that virtue \hath the promise of this life, as well as of that to come.\ Mis- fortune and sorrow are with the good, but transient visitors; it is only with the J unrighteous that they take up their a- bode. The blessings of one year were followed by tbe blessings of another ; ami, by industry and economy, James Moriand was in the course of compar- atively a short period, a wealthier man than be had been in the revered habit- ation of his foie-fathers, and the home of his happiest associations. About seven years after he was driven forth in poverty, and (as far as its worldly interpretation goesj in despair, a varie- ty of circumstances had occurred, to which we need allude no father than to observe, that they led to the sale of tlie small estate where this very cot- tage stood; James Moriand was its purchaser, and his family continue to inhabit it to this day—their situation higher in life, but their humilily and their virtuous character the same. The scene of the return of this goi square . less; together with all and singular the w- raditsments and •ppvrtenances thereunto belonging, will be sold at pobhek vendue r^^m the eighteenth day of duly next, at ten and happy family to the home of TheTBF c,ock iu lhc forenorn. at the beusfj\^ * i*Tkcpt by Asa Pierce, inn keener in the to« n taming one hundred ;.cres, be the same more or less. Dated January 23, Ui7. DAVID E. EVANS, Acting\ Executor. T. A. OttMKXE, Att'y. jl-tim l^Y virtue of a power contained in a ccr- •*•* tain mortgage, bearing date the twenty sixth day of December, iu the year eighteen hundred and twenty one, executed by Royal Tetft, jr. and C'elirida Tefft his wile, to Ab- ncr II olmes, for securing the payment of a certain sum of money, in thc said mortgage mentioned, which said mortgage Las been duly assigned to John E. Marshall; Now, therefore, default having been made in the payment of thc said ium of money, notice B hereby given, that all that certain piece or parcel of laud, situate in the county ofChltP taiiquc and state of New-York, known and distinguished by a part of lot number sixty, in the sixth township and eleventh range 0 * thc Holland Land Company's land, so call- ed, beginning at a stake, at the northeast corner of. Ashcr Holmes' orchard, thence •onth, thirty degrees east, one thain a Du sixty two links, thence east, forty degree? Berth, two chains seventy live lints, ti.cnce north, thirty seven degrees west, to the En© road, thence bounding < n said roud to tM place of beginning : containingseveDty leu square roea of land, he the same more ' r childhood, was one that will never U£ foigotten by the individual who was fortunate enough to witness both that and their expulsion. It was the evening of a calm day in spring, when they stopped ot the gate. of Hanover, in the county of chautaiiqiu Dated January 10, 1B2T. ^SU* JOHN E. MARSHALL, Assignee^ Apoc\\r«ph*\ Testament For sale at this oflics.

xml | txt