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THE

Worcester Talisman.

NO. 14.

OCTOBER 4, 1828.

POPULAR TALES.

FOR THE TALISMAN.
CHIVALRY OF THE EIGH.

TEENTH CENTURY. Cervantes, in his inimitable history of the redoubtable Don Quixote and his faithful servant and fellow traveller Sancho Panzy, has painted, in glowing and everlasting colors, the deeds of valor and temerity which characterized the bold knights, in the days when chivalry and knight-errantry were in the meridian of their glory. The libraries of every country teem with this history, which proves not only that the authors name is handed in glory down to posterity, but also, that the history of those remarkable days will live while time shall last. And why, if the chivalry of those days is worthy of so conspicuous a place in the field of history, shall not that of a later day, at least be recorded? Under a conviction that it might be interesting, if not useful, I shall give the following sketch as I heard it from another.

I was sitting one glorious evening before the door of a neighboring cottage, inhabited by a patriarch, not much less venerable than its own age-stricken walls. The patriarch came forth followed by the offspring of two generations, to enjoy the balmy tranquillity of the moonlight night. He sat himself down beneath an aged vine that clung to the decaying timbers of the portico, and while those who surrounded him were all attention, he related the succeeding morceau of history, the heroes of which had been the companions of his better days.

"About three score summers ago," said he "while yet the country around us was barely settled sufficiently to be denominated any thing but a wilderness, there dwelt in yonder cottage, whose walls have now fallen a prey to the great destroyer, an honest, plain-bred farmer, whose pecuniary circumstances were such as to place him fairly beyond the reach of poverty and whose taste for literary acquirements was such, that it was said he had transplanted the contents of the "complete jocky," and various other treatises upon "chyrurgerie," fairly into his heart. He had an only child, and upon her were all his hopes and doatings placed. Nothing which lay in his power was left undone, to render her an

VOL. I.

ornament to her sex, and far from her native habitation was the name, the acquirements, and the accomplishments of Anna Ellicott heard. Yes, she was beautiful, and would cast many of the belles of the present day far into the shade. Her curling locks of auburn needed not the tortoise shell, or the artificial wreath to deck them,-and her graceful form would be apparent in the mantua of linsey woolsey. It is almost needless to add, as it follows of course, that this lady attracted many of the chivalrous knights of this New England forest, and "among the rest young Henry bowed" and often "talked of love." Henry Wilkins was the son of a sturdy mountaineer, who, by industry, and assiduity had accumulated an independence for himself and family. Thus elevated above want, Henry, whose natural disposition was averse to employment, passed away his time in a manner the most suited to his wishes. He was notoriously addicted to amusement and diversion, which propensity often was the cause of proving that

"Satan finds some mischief still,

For idle hands to do,"

He often displayed scintillations of curious ingenuity, which in those days was productive of serious injury to his character, and of a dozen aged matrons who knew him, most of them believed him to be an accessory with,an agent to witches, hobgoblins and midnight fiends. But it was far different with Anna; industry and application were her characteristics.With a cultivated mind, she had a true balance of judgment to weigh the character and conduct of others. True it was that she loved Henry, but her heart was not so infatuated that she could not discover his faults. There is a mystery in human nature which will forever baffle the most profound philosophers to unravel. It is in the ungovernable nature of the heart. The affections cannot entirely centre where reason might wish, but will find a resting place, independent of the other passion. But to return: at that time, the native forest reared its sturdy oaks where now the denser parts of the village are situated, and most of these fields which now surround us in cultivated luxuriance, were a rugged wilderness. Many a time upon a blithsome summer day, did we see this couple straying through this forest, now over hedge-swamps and deep

welcomed with cheerfulness, and treated with that generous hospitality for which the people of those days were characterized. It was dur

storm arose, and when morning came over the world the earth was wrapped in "winter's snowy mantle," and the loud tempest blew through the tall oaks by which the cottage was surrounded. After partaking of the morning refreshments,and equipping his steed, he boldly sallied forth for the last time, to perform his journey. He had long been accustomed to face the roughest tempests, and at this his manly spirit was not daunted. And poor Jenny too, so far from being daunted seemed rather to be enlivened by it. It seemed as if the whirlwind and tempest were her favorites,and, in a word,it blew up her courage to such a de

quagmires, now up steep and stony cliffs, pluck- || ing the honey-suckle, the blue-bell, the wild-wood-brake, and all the other flowers; for, added to her various other accomplishing the night of Henry's arrival here that the ments, Anna had become possessed of, and studied a mutilated treatise upon botany, which from its antiquated appearance, one might judge was published in the days of Richard Cœur de Lion. And partly to please her, but still more themselves, even the little biped urchins of the ville, in their long skirted coats and small clothes, would search every corner and crevice to find some new-born flower, and after gathering them, would sit down, with eyes situated, a la mode de la lobster, to hear her detail a long string of staminas, petals, doubles,tripples, &c. about which they understood as much, as does the Indian of the rocky mountains of the scientific table of Dr. Mitch-gree that, occasionally, coming to a declivity, ell. Thus month after month rolled away, and nothing definite was understood between them, until an opportunity occurred of testing the ardor of Anna's regard for Henry. In the winter of 17" he was called upon special business, to a settlement at the distance of 25 miles, which journey it was supposed would Occupy the space of a fortnight in performing. He commenced his journey upon his father's horse,a broken-winded, spring-halted,superanuated beast, which had long been known by the title of Jenny. With this "vehicle" he travelled at the rate of eight miles per diem, through a solitary path in the wilderness which hardly merited the title of road although the most practicable within twenty leagues. During his absence, a furious Northeaster, so common in New England arose, and alas! where were the thoughts of Anna? the situation and the fate of Heary were their

constant theme.

It was on the evening of the sixth day, after his departure, that she sat musing alone by a few embers of a solitary fire. There, as she sat with no noise to disturb her wandering imagination; there, as she heard the howling tempest blow with impetuous fury around the corners of her dwelling, and then dying away in hollow and mournful melody, she would see, in her imagination her lover wandering through the wilderness lonely and companionless, while the tempest threatened around his devoted head, until, overcome by the cold, and the increasing storm he sunk exhausted from his seat, and spent his dying breath in the drifting snow, with no one near to cheer his last moments, or tell his fate to wretched survivors. But these were only the visions of a fanciful brain. For a moment the light of hope would gleam upon her mind, and tell her the falsity of her musings, but that light would flutter, fade, and at length sink in despair.

As for Henry, an unexpected occurrence hasted his progress insomuch, that on the night of the fifth day he arrived, on his return, to a lonely cot in the wilderness, situated within a few miles of his home. At this place, although inhabited by a private family, he was

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she would start off, after some pommelling, upon a good round dutch trot for several rods.But alas! it was only a feeble struggle against the weakness of age, for again she resolved back into the same broken-winded animal. In the mean time the storm continued to increase until it became too tedious for even Henry himself; and, as Jenny was trusty he yielded up the reins to her, drew his hat down low over his forehead, folded up his arms, and closed his eyes against the wind. Night was drawing on, the tempest still increased, and when the earth was sunk in darkness, he wrapped his coat tightly around him, and fearing the icy fingers of the hoary god, he bowed down his body to shield his face, grasped the mane with both his hands, and released his feet from the stirups. He made a curious appearance, sans doute; but custom and elegance must sometimes give way to comfort and convenience. Thus accoutred, he was able to withstand the most violent storm; and thus he traveled until he came to the house of his beloved Anna, which he was passing, even at the moment that she was sitting as before described, absorbed in profound meditation.It chanced that Roger, a goodly old weatherbeaten sailor who lived with Ellicott, was passing with a lanthorn, between the strawthatched barn and house, at the moment that Henry was coming in the opposite direction.— Poor Jenny, although bereft of one eye, had still enough of the blessed boon left to discover the light, glimmering through the darkness, and flickering in the wind. But she saw no more, until arriving directly opposite him, she discovered the moving body of Roger. The appearance was so sudden, that it awakened her fears, she sprang forward with all the vigor of frightened youth; but her memory was poor, and ere she had bounced thirty feet relaxed again into her lethargy. But she had roused Henry; he hastily rose, looked around to discover what had caused the perturbation, but finding nothing, he renewed his former position, little dreaming of the trouble he was causing.

Now let us turn again to the house of Elli

to say, that Henry was found enjoying the fat of the land, with a huge bowl of walnuts by his side and a mug of whiskey upon the table. In short, the whole matter was fairly" cleared up," the opinions of Ellicott confirmed, the fears of Anna dispersed and the laugh turned upon poor Roger.

TO BE CONTINUED.

FROM THE PHILADELPHIA ALBUM.
REPUTATION.

cott. Roger, who was wallowing and puffing towards the house, discovered nothing of Henry or his steed, until the moment that it started, affrightened. Roger for the moment believed that his final hour had come. He bounded like a feather through the deep drifts, scarcely heeding his antique boots which he confidently asserted had many a time outweighed a bushell of bunkers! One moment of breathless fear found him sitting, pale, and trembling like a withered leaf before the fire. His consternation, which he fain would have concealed could not but be discovered by those who were seated with him. "Well, Perhaps there never was a truer maxwhat may be the matter Roger?" said the old im uttered, than that which would estigentleman, as he raised his spectacles from his nose and let them rest upon his forehead. mate the character of the man, by the "Have you been visited by some of the pale- company he keeps. It is the genuine faced gentry, to guard against which you were index of character. He that is ever wont to nail a horse shoe to your mast?" Rog- found in the society of the virtuous and er did not openly avow, at first, the cause of his fear, but merely hinted it."--Ah," said he, good-the intelligent and the great, de"many a time have I seen the white-winged rives from such associates, a portion of fiends playing at the mast-head, when nothing their good qualities, as well as a portion saved us from their freaks but the trusty shoe of their reputation. Man is almost enwhich you have forever ridiculed; but your tirely an imitative being, and will as daughter shall cast anchor in the bay of single readily habituate himself, to take for life, and you come over to my belief before you can boast a Wilkins for your son." "Ah ha! it his prototypes, eminence and virtue, as seems then that I hit upon the right subject." || obscurity and vice. It is therefore that "Well," rejoined Roger, right or not right, the young should be especially anxious have been under the lee of a host of them, in the formation of friendship, and in but never come to so close a contest before." the selection of associates. Never aim After a little altercation Roger explained himself, stating that he had seen the ghost of to be the most intellectual among your Henry and poor Jenny, flying upon the wind, || companions, that is, never make the seand concluded with saying that "twas a gone lection in such wise, that you shall at case with them, as sure as there is religion in the first be uppermost-at the head of Deacon Giles," and "twas no more than he inferiors, imparting information and dehad been expecting all day, for the cows refused to eat the bean pods, and the geese riving nothing of equivalent value in rewould'nt touch the turnip tops." Half now turn. If on the contrary you enter into he made Ellicott believe, for Henry had gone an elevated state of society, however upon a fortnight's journey, the approach of the insignificant your station at the onset, a storm could not have fore-warned him suffivirtuous emulation would point out the ciently to return,and it could not be that Roger should forge all the story in his own imagina-highest seat of honor as an ultimate obtion. But Anna had overheard their conver-ject, attainable only through enterprise, sation, and had found fuel in it to renew the flame of her former fears Her only hope had fled, the only dim light faded, the only link upon which she rested her fondest expectations severed. After there had many words passed between Ellicott and Roger, the one half convinced that it was nothing more than real life, and the other, nothing less than visionary, it was agreed that they both should go forth and wend their way, bleak as it was, to the dwelling of Wilkins. With this determination, they sallied out greatly to the

relief of Anna's mind. It would be dif

ficult to describe the fluctuating sensations of the two travellers as they wandered through the deep snow, towards the goal where was to be settled the subject in dispute

or the more acute feelings which tortured another bosom during their absence. Suffice it

exertion and virtue. We are perfectly aware, that pleasure throws out many seductive lures to the young aspirant of reputation, to win him from the path of honor, and from the ways of preferment. It requires either a disposition. of much stoicism, one of much philosophic temperament, or mental energies, more than ordinarily adapted to the ways of the world, to shut out all the fascinations of early life, from the young and consequently unexperienced. Few men can throw aside the sensualities of a

city like this, for the laborious pursuits of study, or the still more difficult attainment of an eminent and impeachable

reputation. yet early and exalted reputation, is a treasure to the young, far more preferable than affluence. It is a legacy to their children richer than gold, and far more conducive to happiness. Few men are conscious of their own capacities. They have never been in situations of imminent peril-it has never been necessary for them to develope the utmost strength of their intellectual energies,and because their faculties have gone untasked they are unknown and unappreciated.

acquaintance with history furnished him. It is therefore that we reiterate, nothing has a greater influence upon the reputation of an individual, than his associates. If a man's mind is well versed in history, he will be better capable of selecting such society, as will advance his own standard of capacity-he will see the motives of actions, and their results, and these will be as quicksands on the shores of destiny to be guarded against. Another criterion by which the reputation of a young man is often regulated, is the filial relation which exists between himself and his parents. We were especially pleased with some observations of Richard Dana upon this subject. He says, in other and more diffuse language, there is a beautiful integrity of heart in the character of an affectionate son, particularly in his relation to his mother. Every little attention he pays her, is not only an expression of filial attachment, and grateful acknowledgement of past cares, but an evidence of a tenderness of disposition, which moves us the more, because not looked upon so much as an essential property in a man's character; as an added grace, which is bestowed upon a few. The simple utterance of such a sentiment, does its writer credit in our estimation, and perhaps no better ordeal could be found for the trial of a man's integrity, and for the establishment of his reputation, than the affinities which exist between himself, and his mother,his hoary headed father, and his fond sisters. It is to us a most delightful contemplation to behold the manifestations of a lofty spirit's tenderness, exhibited towards a mother, or a sister, and from that moment, the man's character would be in no trifling degree exalted in our estimation. The guerdon of reputation cannot but be enhancWhen the memory becomes stored ed by such conduct, whereas, he on the with virtuous traits of character, the contrary, who apparently forgets that judgment naturally reverts to the effects he ever had a progenitor, or that the produced upon the history of the indi- mild voice of a sister would hail his vidual in a former age, and its dictations kindness with gratitude, loses much of are made up accordingly. Channing the esteem which would be devoted to whilst speaking of the intellectual qual-him as a man, and much of the good oities of Milton, traces much of their vig-pinion of the virtuous, which is the onour, to the immeasurable examples of ly true criterion of a pure and uncontamvice and virtue, with which his intimate inated reputation.

How little of Washington's glorious character would have been known, but for the momentous era in our history, which brought his energies into proper exhibition. Of this illustrious patriot, Fisher Ames observes "his great modesty and reserve, would have concealed his talents, if great occasions had not called them forth: and then, as he never spoke from the affection to shine, nor acted from any sinister motives, it is from their effects only, that we are to judge of their greatness and extent.”— Yet the fame of Washington is of the unmixed, purest, and lasting character.— It was not the breath of momentary popularity, nor the insane ranting of notoriety, that enkindled it, but it is founded upon the purest motives, resulting in the most glorious consequences. Ames in his character of Washington, likens him to Epaminondas, the brightest name of all antiquity, as being kindred in the purity and ardor of their patriotism. It is such examples as these we would hold up to youth as admirable prototypes, to imitate in struggling for the laurels of reputation. An intimacy with the habits and manners of men, eminent for their virtues as delineated by the pen of a faithful historian, will not be less servicable, than intercourse with reputable living individuals.

FLOWERS,

True they may be called summer friendsthat they vanish beneath the first rough blast of winter, I do not deny. Yet, when their sweet faces again peep forth, and their fragrant breath salutes me, I feel no disposition to repel the claim, no reproach rises to my lips, and rarely does even a sage reflection on the vanity of their short lives intervene, to check the joyousness of long expectant welcome. When betrayed by its rich perfume, the violet courts my search, the spot is as eagerly explored, the prize as triumphantly seized, as in the buoyant days of childhood, when the peril of rent frock, soiled shoes and mamma's reproving glance, enhanced by somewhat of chivalrous daring, the glory of such an exploit. And still I love to be beforehand with the bee, visiting the garden at earliest dawn, to quaff from the rose cup its collected dew, ere the deeper recesses of the honey be explored by my brother florist. Time was, when that bee buzzed not more free from care over the smooth grass-plat than I did; years, without divesting of their wonted enjoyment these hours of sweet recreation, have flung a tinge I will not say melancholy, but, of more tender interest over the contemplation. With some particular flower, or shrub, or herb, is associated, perhaps, the recollection of a face as blooming, smile as sweet, as the parterre itself can boast; and if that blooming face be now pale with life's 'experienced turmoil-if that sweet smile be shrouded in the dust of death, or turned in forgetfulness of me upon other and newer claimants-the leaf become a book of remembrance-a page for memory to ponder on; until I wonder to find, after the lapse of years, its very little delicate streak penciled as of yore, changed in root, and branch,and station, yet the same. They may be summer friends; yet I wish all friends could annually re-appear, if but for a summer's day, to smile upon me with a glow as undiminished as does the faithful rose.

TURKISH CEREMONIES.

The Turks pray for their dead, and invoke their Saints to intercede for them. Every Mussulman has his own guardian angel. They believe that the soul returns to the body when it is entombed. If the man has led an evil life, the angels of the grave, Monkia and Gunneruir, torment him until the day of judgment. If his life has been virtuous, his abode in the grave is one of pleasure and contentment.The Turks recognize the ten commandments of Moses, and enforce them with five others added by Mahomet. These are, 1st, to believe in, and worship only one God; 2d, to fast during the Rhamadan; 3d, to pray at certain hours; 4th, to give the fortieth part of their income to the poor; 5th, to go on a pilgrimage to Mecca once in their life. In the observance of the first they were very scrupulous and reverential; they never undertake

any thing of importance without invoking the blessing of Heaven.

The second commandment is kept during the Rhamadan, the month in which the Koran came down from Heaven. This fast begins as soon as the crescent of the new moon can be seen from the highest hills. When the

"Rhamadan's last sun hath set," the festival of the Bairam begins, during which they do their utmost to reconcile estranged friends, and to banish enmities and ill feelings

The Turkish mosques are flanked by minarets, which are surrounded by balconies. When the hour of prayer arrives, the Muezin cries from the minaret, "Albar, &c. God is great; hear witness there is but one God, and Mahomet is his prophet; come and present yourselves to the mercy of God, and ask forgive-, is addressed successively to the South, East, ness for your sins-God is great." This cry North and West. They pray five times a day -at day break, noon, mid afternoon, sunset and night. During the time of prayer they are grave, attentive and reverential, on their knees and repeating the words of the Iman (Priest) in a low tone. After prayers an anthem is chaunted. Three days in the week, the Iman delivers a sermon, explanatory of some points in the Koran. The Iman always concludes with a prayer for the Sultan, and the success of his armies, to which all the people say Amen.-N. Y. Courier.

THE WOMEN OF ENGLAND. In good society, the men and women always meet together as comparative strangers, howthey may be with each other. So much cereever long and however intimately acquainted

mony, so much etiquette, so many idle notions are forever in the way, that a plain sensible man gets wearied to death, or discouraged in the every outset of his acquaintance with fashionable life. One half appear to be at college, and the other at a boarding school for the greater part of their lives. Things of no moment in his view, are matters of deliberate, grave inquity with them. They have a settled way of doing every thing and saying every thing. If they bow, it is the bow of a la somebody or other; if they smile, it is the smile of my lord or my lady so-and-so, (borrowed from the stage, perhaps :) and so, too, if they shrug their shoulders, or lounge about, or toss their pretty heads, or give you a finger to shake, it is all done after the fashion of the week-a month earlier or a month later, and that very fashion would be laughed at as vulgar, in good society. If they visit, they visit by proxy-sending their card by a carriage or a footman, who, instead of leaving it at the door, as the fashion used to be, when a show of propriety prevailed, meets his fellow-footman at a general receiving house, and interchanges cards with them all round. If they inquire after a dear friend's health, who has had a narrow escape, or returned from a long

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