Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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1> (TF> I R V. FOR 1HE. GAZC'ri'E. THE LYRE OF FAME. Owe estive eve, when ev'ry scene Was chat ming to henold; When proves were drest in cheerful green, And mountains tip'd with gold ; I wander'd from ihe busv town, To seek ionic lonely nook.; And in a vailey, sat me down Beside a shaded brook. t The setting Sun, shone from the west, With taint and feeble ray, While evening's shady mantle, drest The fading form of day. The lark his plaintive ditty sung, The vale was all serene, The brook with mournful murmurs rung ; A sadly pleasing scene. Where sweet Cantcnthnent smiles around, And Fancy loves to dwell, To hear ihe streamlet's soothing sound Some facination tell. Where all conspires to soothe the soul And wipe away its stains, Where no rude passion has controul, But contemplation reigns. Where sweetly sounds the vocal string, To sad reflection given, While on the Muse's pliant wing, The soul ascends to Heaven. Thore while my busy thoughts, survey'd The pond'rous roll of Time, I saw a nymph in light array'd, And mournfully sublime. A lyre of golden strings she bore, With wreaths of rftses bound . It was the lyre of lyric lore, Of sweet enchanting sound. She scatter'd flowerets round her scat And wav'd me to remain, Then touch*d the string of music sweet, And bid me tell the strain. Oh ! sing bright gocUjpss of the skies I thankfully replied The sons of Fame, fair Virtue's prize, And final fate of pride. And show, though oft, the trump of T*ame Proclaims the world around, The Knave or impious Tyrants name, Yet Virtue scorns the sound. She tun'd her lyre the theme to sing, But wak'd the lay in vain, For ne'er from Thalia's feeble string, Had trombi'd such a strain. With fault'ring voice she wildly sung, And wild thoHpunbers came, >r<fl&en l The air with broken pulses rung, Unlike the song of Fame. While thus she toil'd, a splendid throng All burst upon my sight;? 'Twas Fame, with all the powers of song F rom worlds of ether bright. And mid the choir a nymph was seen That did my soul inspire ; Divinely beauteous was her mien, Ahd heavenly her attire. Her right a flaming wand display *d Of silvery shining hue, To part oblivion's gloomy sha<je, And hidden things renew. And in her left was seen a scroll. Snatch'd from devouring Time ; The deeds of ages as they roll, Of ev'ry shore and clime. A roodest smile adorns her face, And radiant is her eye, She looks with bright celestial grace Her name is Memory. They crouded round the tuneful fnaid, Who ceased ihe frantic strain; * rtll l\\rne her golden lyre displayed And waked thee theme again. Oh ! matchless is the lyre of Fame, | And many are the strings, One for each noted hero's name, Of whom the goddess sing*. I And first upon the glorious list With blazing wreath intwined, i "Was *?en the sacred name, of Christ The Saviour of mankind. I'ure was the string of spot loss sheen, That spoke the heavenly name ; The fairest, brightest, to be seen Upon the lyre of Fame. There too the chapipions of his word, The Ma?tyrshad a wreath, "Who sufVer'dfoi ti.eir Christ, their Lord, And smii*d in pangs of death Fach prophet's ar.d apostle's name, \iuI ail be pious throng, ?V ere sacred to immortal tame And everlasting song. And ail the Champions, #.?ers, and Kiu^s at shine in Clio's page, .lad man? wreath* and many strings, To biaze from age to age. rhtre was the Macedonian chief, I 1 he pcttv lord of nuiu, I 1 : i ? r I \1 no wept m execrable uriet, ilia race oi carnage ran. There too the savage Nero's name, f ie butcher oi his times; A string was sacred to his fame, But canker'd with nis crimes. And there in spotless splendor shone, Immortal Alkhed's string; The pride and boast of Britain's throne, The sample of a king. There blazing; on the lyre of Fame, In glittering wreaths unfurl'd, Was seen Napollon's noted name, The terror ot the world. And. mid the rest away'd in light', Yet milder in its glare, Was Washington, the pride of fight And ornament ol war. Nor long I view'd each noted name, Nor long each shin ng string, For soon the glittering chords of Fame, Were tun'd a theme to sing. The goddess plac'd her golden lyre Amid the tuneful throng, _ And all the nine, celestial quire, ^ Jom'd in the sounding song. She wak'd the lay to sacred things, The theme of Heaven on earth ; She struck the lyre of thousand strings And sung her Saviour's birth. Now went the svmphony around With heavenly ecstacy, While rapture swell'd in ev'ry sounds And beam'd in ev'ry eye. O'er distant hills and distant grounds, Ten thousand echoes rung, All nature lisp'd the blessed sounds While thus the goddess sung. " Behold ! Destruction hov'ring o'er 4* A guilty su IF ring world, fl Behold 1 the wrath of heavenly pow'r, ^?llmost in lury hurld. 4t And who shall reinstate again, " Or who dev se, a plan To save from everlasting pain, 44 The niniul race of man. ?4 Can mortal arm God's anger stay : 4k ?V ill mortal strength suffice ? 14 Can universal nature, sway 44 The author of ils rise ? '?No! but the opening heavens declare 44 A Saviour smiles on earth ; 11 While strains seraphic rend the air, 44 To ctlebraic his birth. w He comes 1 "*He comes ! from mansions bright) 44 The everlasting King, u While angels hail the joyous night, u And spotless seraphs sing. * Behold in yonder joyful sky 44 A star directs ihe road, 14 Then to yon manger turn the eye __44 And see the infant God. 14 Now ?ee the blind receive their sight, * 44 The leper smiles restored, 14 The dumb can praise him with delight, 44 The deaf can hear his word ; i 14 The man possessed from Satan free> 44 The palsied man from pain, 14 The widow joys in ecstacy, 44 Her son's alive again; 44 The lame man walks to health restored ; ' 44 From utmost shore to shore, 44 His sacred everlasting word, 44 1? preach'd tN^rihe poor. 44 All nature trembles at his sway 4* And owns the son of God, 14 The boistrious elements obey, 44 And shrink beneath his noil. 14 Behold him on the stormy deep; 44 Reposing in its rage, 44 While overwhelming tempests sweep 44 W ith terrible presage. 44 Now foam the waves, all furious driven 41 They lash the sounding shore, Now gleam the fiery bolts of Heaven, u While awful thunders roar. 44 Tlut mark he wa^*, and sees the wave 44 All dashing o'er the deep ; 44 He bids the tempest cease, to rave 44 The howling surges sleep. 44 The towering oillows where so late 44 Distress and terror rode, k4 Now ? ease to roar ; hush'd by the great 44 c ommanding >oice of God." And now, to low and doleful sound She tun'd ihe joyful string ; And ?vept, (whi ? mourntul notes resound) Her dying Lord t<5 sing. OS proud misguided ciucl man," The weeping s^oduess sung, )h pr jud misguided cruel man, I he rocks and mountains 'ung. 4 ? Why blind to all the precious light u Uy C?r?<l and nature given, ?? W hy crucify thy Loid, and slight 4t The iii-st born child of ireu\en. 4 Behold expos'd to impious scorn, 4> lie whom the spheres oUey ; ?4 He fold upon the cross !orlorn, The sun of gospel day. ?? Ah ! see he dies, receives the doom " With mild submissive nod, 44 While darkness vieis in solemn gloom u Th' glittering throne of God. 44 Now his last cry to heaven ascends u Oh murderous -nan for you ; 44 Futher f^rgivr ! nor take amend* ? 44 They know not wha: they do. 4* Thus was the awful covenant scalM 44 The earth in sunder riven M While God's tremendious thunder peal'd 44 With dolelul roar in 1 leaven.'* End of /iar( Jirst. misceli::o u,s. FROM THE 1)A HI EN GAZETTE. Pathetic Loiter.?'I lie letter writ ten by Ann.Holey n, whilst confined in the Tower of London, A. 1). 1886 to her husband, Henry VIII. of England, though it breathes the most simple pathos and sensitive ten derness, as well as dutiful resigna tion to the will of her iuexorible con sort, who finally destroyed her that he uiight indulge his criminal pas sion for Jane Heymour, has received more commendation than it actually deserves. Trained up and educated at a Court the most dissolute as well as brilliant in Europe, it seems hard-' Jjy possible that she should have en tertained sentiments which were con sidered not only unfashionable but ridiculous by her associates and in structors. When maid of honor to! Queen Catherine, she is accordingly found exercising all her ingenuity, to supplant her mistress in the affec tions of Henry, and after having ac complished a separation between them, ascending the bed from which a woman examplary virtuous had just been banished. It is in vain that her conduct is examined to dis cover any analogy between her heart and the letter, which can only be viewed as the last effort of a power7 iful mind to evade the axe of the I executioner; by feigning virtues at variance with the whole tenor of her life. Under circumstances very differ ent, the subjoined letter was written. The husband, a mechanic, with more talents and vices than usually fall to the lot of men, abandoned his wife and little daughter without leaving with them a cent or other means by which to obtain the com mon necessaries of life, other than the benevolence of the neighbors, who had great reason to be offended with him. His career, though short and disastrous, would furnish mat ter for a volume, but the virtues of the wile shall shield his blemishes from investigation and detail by us. U is sufficient to say, that while he was following very reprehensible measures in Camden, (8. C.) and at a moment when his child nas soli citing charily to support herself and lief mother at the doors in iialeigh, that hi* \yife enclosed him one third of her ? little all," in the accompa nying letter, desiring to know his pleasure in regard to her following him on foot, or remain where she was, in l?oth of which cases she must subsist by begging. It is the U iiguage of Nature, expressed on an occasion entirely separate from ev*?ry thing like personal interest oi fear, ami contains more genuine patktoe and dutiful submission, than we mnemher to have seen from the pen c?f a female, it is an honor to the A vnerican Nation and to human nature; and we cannot but hope it may ti nd a depositary in archives less perish able than the columns of news paper* >. u Raleigh, October 51. "JH'tf dear Husband.*-Nothin* could I iave gratified me so much a your le Iter, except seeing you, thougl I feel very uneasy on account oi your illness. O, mv dear, wliv did' \ou nut send for me, nml In me he villi Mm, and wait ou vim? (), il. ? , ? 7 \ you hav e not recovered, uiup too as; soon as possible* so 1 may come on and see von. li* yon have, whe.hrr you will return from, ihat place, or ?o on. Fray", don't venture too soon, 1 wish 1 were with you: hut; 1 will trv and content m\>elf, hv do ? ? 7 % ing whatever you may hid iue. You cannot conceive how 1 felt, when 1; lieanl you was gone districted in Fayetteville. 1 heard it; from the lower class of people. Mr. amt told me it was no suctr thing?they have been very kind to me. You will let me know in vour * next, whether 1 must write again.? Vou will please accept of ten dol lars? you may want it; 1 have twen-! ty left. " \V e are all well. May Heaven bless you, and briirs; you safe home to your family, 19 the prayer of your affectionate wife, *** ****-* ? SC.1KC1TY OF CASH. | One cause (saysthe Boston kaleidoscope) of the many complaints o.< this subject, may be touud out, perhaps, by pet using the lolloping anecdote. OLD TIMES. | He fore Banks were known in New-Lng iand, ot ere paper money of any kind was in vogue, there was in Connecticut, aery of 14 hard times 44 no money to be got;" 11 let's petition the Governor and Legisla ture to make paper money." One of the greatest advocates for this scheme, called 011 the Governor, when the following dia logue ensued: Governor. Well, friend, what is your business with me ? Jonathan. Why, may it please your honor'* excellency^ the times aie bard, and money scarce, and lomeon us talk o' peti tioning to have paper money made, ho that every body may have enough on't. Governor. But, friend, the re is consid erable money in the piovince now, gold, silver and copper, which you know, is of more solid value than any paper whatever. Among others, 1 have a small sum on hand, and if you ure in want, and have any thing valuable to sell, 1 will be a purchaser, at a fair price, and relieve you from your em. barrasament. Jonathan. O dear, your honor, .I've nothing to tell and scare any thing to keefi. Governor. 'Well, you look strong and healthy.and I presume, are willing to work Tor a living, 1 will give you employment and pay you in solid coin. Jonathan. Why, 1 work sometimes, but really 1 can't say I like it, Govertior. Very well. Then suppo sing government should make never so much money, and you have neither proper ty nor labor to give in exchange for it, you would have no way of procuring it, but by borrowing or stealing. Jonathan. Jhj Jingo, Mr. Governor, come to think on't, I guess you're above hoaj' right. ?? ??? i Ihe Sententious or a Serious World. Early rising will add many years to your life / Dine late ; it makes the day longer, and saves a supper. Take your tradesman's receipt, though you pay ready money. Never pa) a tradesman's bill till you have cast it up. If you mean to buy a house, which you intend to alter and improve, be snre to double the tradesman's estimate. A liitle spittle takes out grease spopts from woollen cloth. Idleness travels very leisurely, and Pov erty soon overtakes her. Allow a man to have wit, and lie will al low you to have judgment. W hen Religion is made a science there is nothing more intricate; when made a duty there is nothing more easy. Do not brave the opinion of the world. You may as well say, that you care not for the light of the sun, because you can find a candle. In the morning, think o#what you are to do in the day, and at night think on what you hue done. If you incline to corpulency, keep your eyes cpen and your mouth shut* I To brood over a misfortune is the way , to make it longer. A reserved temper checks conviviality, and il you cannot laugh, you bad better stay at home. A real gentleman or lady is known at first sight. Envy is like a sore eye that cannot bear a blight object. He who accustoms himself to buy super fluities, may ere long be obliged to sell his necessaries. A successful insurrection ia called a re volution ; a d atn unsuccessful one is named rebellion. If a young woman is worth having for a wife, rme man that is wotth having lor a iiusband Will find her out. It is a proof of good breeding to be able to converse well. The anatomical examination of the eye is a certain cure for atheism. A man w i* 0 . . v ? r r yOI, first sight, should be regarded With cat* Try to Se re*\)lar, and it nviII won be conic a becotid nature. Ke p company ^ ith learned men and you w -n Uvc occasion fur xnucU read* ,ng. Alartying a in?n you dislike, in hopes of lu\ ?n^ him alterwaids, is iikc moinvj t^ sea in a storm, in hones oL fair leather. Avery valuable Recipefirr the Ennui, and Consumption Of the Purse. Take so ranch of each day for in dustry, whether of body or mind, as may he necessary: mix this with temperenec three times a day, at the most convenient regular periods?the remaning part, ?fter deducting six or seven hours for sleep, to be de voted to useful reading and innocent recreation. Bo careful to manage, all your concerns by the principles of virtue and Christianity, noting every evening the errors of each day, to bti refir.ned the next. J. MOUAL, M. 1), A NEWSPAPER Is a bill (ffare, containing a va riety of dishes*, suited to the different tastes aud appetites of those who sit down at the enter tail) went. Politics are beef steaks, palatable to almost every one. Those \\ ho prefer them rare done, choose those from France?Electioneering is ten son?Congress news, is stuffed meats?Essays, humours, specula tive, moral and divine, are a tine bail ed dish9 where, by a happy commix ture in the use of breHd, meat and vegetables, a diet is obtained, nutri tive, pleasant and healthy?- Ship news is a glass of grogg at ?leven? Poetry is custard?Marriages are sweat meat*?lia Hards and love-dit ties, plumb pudding?Anecdotes, conundrums and epigrams are sea soning spice and mustard?home times there comes along a Printer's Dun:?that is sour crout or cramber ry tart. Several weighty reasons why I in particular, ought to be excused from taking the Newspapers. There'* no occasion tor my taking the papers; I am in neighbor 's store every day and see it as soon as it comes. There's no use in my taking the jmpers, for we crn't have it a minute after it cotnes into (he stole; one or another catchers it up so qt.ick. 1 can have no need to take the pa pers, 1 can always read it at the ba'bers. I need not take the papers; for I am so much amoug people, that 1 can hear all the news at the post-office, and see the arrivals in Hoton papers, and that's all I want to know. It is no matter about our taking (he papers ; (a man once told the printer) father generally goes to meeting every Sunday, and comes back by Mr. M 's as it is no more than three miles and a half out of the way through the woods, aud borrows his paper every week. I don't want the paper; there's a parcel left at the school house every week* and the boys bring one home for us to read. We don't want the paper, there's one or two left at the house for back neighbors, that we read* I don't want the paper but a few minutes, just run over the .foreign News, to see what Congress or the Legislature are about, or to look at the Advertisements, and one will lend one long enough for that, with out taking it myself And I, who live so near the print ing office, c?;i go there and see the papers from all parts of the Union? it is, therefore unnecessary for me to subscribe for any paper. A Post-Rider at the bottom of a dun, has the following singular JV'ota Bene:? " N. B. If the o" ner of this paper should not see this Advertisement, I wish his children (if he has any) would *how it to him. If he h ih no children, I wish his good neighl>or, w ho lias been in the habit of b(/rrow )ng the paper, w ould ask him how much he owes the Tost!"