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Of joyous conting years I did not know its manliness

Was but to wake in tears.

POETRY. PILGRIMS DAY, DEC. 22, 1828.

BY EMORY WAS BORN, ESQ. Fill high the cup to-days of old,

And fill with generous wine,
The heart should warm, while tales are told

Of days of culd lang syne.
Shall others, while in friendship met,

The absent bring to mind,
And we, on this glad day, forget,

Our sires of auld lang syne?
No; while the circling years shall move,

And virtue is divine,
Their sous, their memory still shall love,

And that of auld lang syne.
The Pilgrim's name shall be their boast,

His grave a holy shrine,
Till slaves on Plymouth's rock-bound coast

Forget an auld lang syne.
And there shall Freedom love to light

Anew, her torch divine,
And fancy dare her boldest flight

'Mid scenes of auld lang syne. This day recals the fearless soul,

The strong, the liberal mind, 'The holy zeal that spurned control,

of men in auld lang syne. To them we pledge the brimming cup,

Let none the pledge decline, 'Tis “ Pilgrims Day”!-drink-drink it up!

To men of auld lang syne.
Nor them alone-a pledge is due

To woman soft and kind,
or love so warm, of faith so true-

Our mothers of lang syne.
And when some antiquary's skill

Shall trace the moss dimm'd line,
To read of hearts, then cold and still,

That glow'd thus warm, lang syne,
May he a willing tribute pay

To each true heart and kind,
And pledge us on the “ Pilgrims day"

With those of auld lang syne.

A change bas on my spirit come,

I am forever sad ;
The light has all departed now

My early feelings had;
I usd to love the morning grey,

The twilight's quiet deep,
But now like shadows on the sea,

Upon my thoughts they creep.
And love was like a holy star,

When this brief year was young, And my whole worship of the sky

On one sweet ray was flung ; But worldly things have come betweep,

And shut it from my sight,
And though the star shines purely yet,

I mourn its hidden light.
And fame! I bent to it the knee,

And bow'd to ii my brow, and it is like a coal upon

My living spirit dow-
But when I pray'd for burning fire

To touch the soul I bow'd,
I did not know the lightning flash

Would come in such a cloud.
Ye give me joy ! Is it because

Another year has fled ?--
That I am farther from my youth,

And nearer to the dead?
Is it because my cares have come ?-

My happy boyhood o'er ? -
Because the visions I have lor'd

Will visit me no more?
Oh, tell me not that ye are glad?

I cannot smile it back;
I've found no flower, and seen no light

On manhood's weary track.
My love is deep-ambition deep-

And heart and mind will on-
But love is fainting by the way,

And fame consumes ere won.

TWENTY-TWO,
I'm twenty-two-I'm twenty-two-

They gaily give me joy,
As if I should be glad to hear

That I was less a boy.
They do not know how carelessly

Their words have given pain,
To one whose heart would leap to be

A happy boy again.
I had a light and careless heart

When this brief year began,
And then I pray'd that I might be

A grave and perfect man.
The world was like a blessed dream

THE BROKEN HEARTED.

BY ROBERT MORRIS.
I would that thou wert dead, devoted one,

For thou art all too pure to linger here ;
Life's joyous sands to thee have feetly run,

And sorrow's hand hath made thy being sear; Thy girlhood was a pure and artless dream, And many a sunny hope has thrill'd thy

breast, And many an air-blown bubble gilt life's

stream, Flash'd for a moment-broke, and sunk to

restEmblems of youth and loveliness were they, And like hope's fairy visions pass'd away. I would that thou wert dead, forsaken girl, That high pale brow enshrin'd within the

tomb,

er

a

For as with gentle winds still waters curl, THE LATE MATURIN.-A gentleman once So sades at sorrow's touch young beauty's called on this eccentric but talented divine, bloom

who found him in his study, perusing the let: Thou art too pure and fair for this cold earth, ters of his literary correspondents. “The pe

A thing too guiltless long to dwell b:low, rusal of letters froin our absent and deceased Tiry voice has lost its cadences of mirth, friends," said Maturin, “ often creates reflec

The glory has departed from thy brow tions that are painful to memory and friendAnd youth's pure bloom has left thy virgin ship. I seldom in my life_felt more gloomy heart,

thau at this moment.” “Engaged as you apAnd beauty like a phantom will depart. pear to be," replied his friend ; " "tis natural

that a number of recollections should revive I would that thou wert dead, for life to thee

in your mind, but I trust they are associated Is as a broken reed--a wither'd flower ;

with no bitter or painful reflections ?"-"! Dark shadows rest upon thy destiny,

have more to complain of than the degeneracy And storms of fate around thy fortunes low. ll of friendship. Do I not," continued the dra.

matist, “ look more gloomy than usual?”– Wedded to one thy bosom cannot love,

“I must copfess you do," replied the visitor, Banished from him thine every thought em sy but I hope you have no serious reason for ploys,

appearing so ?" "I have many reasons to Thou art in heart a bruised and wounded dore, appear gloomy, nay, more, to be discontented,

And earth to thee can yield no future joys, when I reflect, that, as curate of St. Peter's, I Wearily passes lise and time with thee, have only a hundred and thirty pounds a year, A dusky shadow dims thy destiny.

while the bishop's cook is allowed a hundred

and filty." I would that thou wert dead, devoted one,

And thy bright spirit disenthrall’d of clay; E'en as the dew-drop wastes beneath the sun, Burke's habits at table were temperate,preThus by disease thy being wastes away

ferring the lighter to the stronger wines, in Oh, who that knew thee when thou wert

opposition to Johnsou's gradation of liquor, child,

- Claret for boys, Port for men, and Brandy With a glad voice and heaveu unfolding for heroes." " Then,” said Burke, give me eye,

Clarel, for Iike to be a boy, and partake of A creature as the snow flake undefiled,

the honest hilarity of youth."
With a bright lip and cheek of rosy dye,
Oh, who that knew thee ther,can see thee now
Nor wonder for the beauty of thy brow.

A GOOD HEART.--A good heart feels for I would that thou wert dead, and sanc

the misfortunes of others, and commiserates tified

all those, whom inability prevents him from Thy spirit with high elements is fraught,

assisting. He, who possesses a good heart, And that which scorn and cruelty defied,

puts the best face upon little errors, and is inThe lingering stealth of pale disease has

genious in concealing the defects of mankind.

He considers the defects of his neighbor as a wrought-

letter of recommendation, and endeavors to Yes death is near thee now, sweet Genevieve, And thou shall haste to meet him with a

persuade himself, that misery is a sacred thing. smile ;

If his eyes be shut to the weaknesses of oth

ers, his ears are also deaf to the malevolent It is in vain thy gentle sisters grieve, Thy soul shall soon flee by each starry isle, only in the praises of every one, and he is

insinuations of evil minds. His toogue moves That glitters brightly through the calm blue skies,

mute when called upon to support the maleLike white lids listed from pure spirits' eyes.

dictions of others. He endeavors to promote

universal felicity, and sincerely rejoices when Thou soon shalt die, sweet martyr, and the

he has it in his power to extend it. It is with

grief he sees differences among friends, and be earth Will nurture geatle flowers above thy grave,

spares neither time nor pains to bring them to Sweet emblems of thy being and thy birth,

a right understanding of each other. With cypress leaves around thy tomb shall

WORCESTER TALISMAN.
And when the pensive stranger wanders nigh
His lips shall waft a tributary prayer,

Published every other Saturday morning, by For her who soon shalt prematurely die,

Dorr & HowLAND, Worcester, (Mass.) at $1 For her whose seraph form shall moulder a year, payable in advance. there

@ Agents paying five dollars will be entiFarewell, sweet Genevieve-'tis sad to part,

tled to receive six copies. Farewell, thy beauty shrouds a breaking

Leiters, intended for TAE TALISMAN, heart.

must be post paid to insure attention. Philad. Monthly Magarine.

GRIFFIN AND MORRILL.... PRINTERS.

wave

TIIE

twortester Calisman.

NO. 21.

JANUARY 10, 1829.

VOL. I

ORIGINAL,

rogue and the villain. How necessary is it

therefore, thai the youthful mind, while it is FOR THE TALISMAN.

yet pure and unpolluted by the contaminating Instead of the multitude of Novels which influence of vicious examples, should be proyoung persons are suffered to read, I would | perly directed ; that the principles of right recommend history, biography, books of trav and wrong should be deeply and firmly inculels and voyages.

The study of history is cated. To the want of this early attention to generally very iuteresting, and by a judicious the morals of children may be traced most, system of reading it may be rendered of great if not all those offences and crimes that fill advantage. History spreads before us the ac our prisons with the violators of the laws of tions of distinguished men, the origin, rise and God and man. The education of a child may progress of nations, the peculiar traits and be commenced at a much earlier period than circumstances of each age, as well as the || is generally supposed. Scarcely does the principal events. To those who are preparing child begin to lisp its first words ere its mind for a public life it is of essential use, because is capable of some instruction — just as the they can here trace those minute causes which | ewig is bent the tree's inclined.” As he have given the first impulse to the great un. grows older, and his strength of mind increas. dertakings, both of men and vations. The

es, the quantity and quality of instuction experience of all ages and of all nations is should also be increased. collected and spread before the inquiring eye The mind should not be suffered to lie idle, on the page of history. It is a matter of no waste and desolate for want of instructions for small curiosity, to trace the progress of the months and years, when it is capable of rehuman mind from its first faint dawning of ceiving and retaining much. I would not be reason, step by step, through the various sta

thought to convey the absurd idea that books ges of science to the finished education ; and may be used as soon as a child can utter it is a subject of as great interest to read the half-formed words ; no, far be it from me to progress of nations and countries through the advance such an idea. It is at this tender past ages, to see how slowly they have advan- | period that the mother's influence and examced to their present perfection in arts and ple,and her instructions by mouth avail more sciences. Mankind are naturally emulous and than would a host of masters and their books. ambitious, and we all, after having read the || Early instruction to a child will save to palife of any distinguished person feel a desire rents much trouble when he is older. If we of rivaliing their good deeds and avoiding || wish to train a plant to a particular shape, or their bad. Far better were it for a person to to grow in a given direction, we comnience the confine himself to the plain sober facis record. training of it at as early an age as possible, ed in history, and the lives of eminent individ- and while it is yet tender and pliant. It is so uals, than to wander through the flowery | with the human mind, a child may be trained pages of fiction. The consciousness which a to virtue and wisdom, or may be suffered to person feels that the greater part, if not all, run waste and follow every vicious example he ihat is told in biography and history is correct, pleases. It is education, not genius, that would more than balance the pleasure of read makes the man of worth. ing the highest wrought scene of fiction.

SELECTED.

FOR THE TALISMAN.

NOVEL READING. There is an untiring propensity to action in the human mind, implanted by the God of

Extract from Pelham. Nature, that continually excites us to be busy “ Ma foi,” cried Mons. de G., (who was a in some employment or other. This propensi- || little writer, and a great reader of romances) ty of the mind, properly guided, makes the 66 why you would not deprive us of the politer learned man, and the virtuous and moral; it || literature, you would not bid us shut up our forms the warrior as well as the artisan ; and, || novels and burn our theatres."

- Certainly if entrusted to the guidance of chance or ac not !" replied Vincent ; " and it is in ibis par. cident, it alike makes the pickpocket, the || ticular, that I differ from certain modern phi.

losophers of our own country, for whom, for difficult to impart ! Better for a man to posthe most part, I entertain the bighest venera. sess them, than wealth, beauly, or talent ; tion. I would not deprive life of a single they will more than supply all. No attention grace, or a single enjoyment, but I would || is too minute, no labor too exaggerated, which counteract whatever is pernicious in whatever tends to perfect them. He who enjoys their is elegant ; if among my flowers there is a advantages in the highest degree, viz., he snake, I would not root up my flowers, I would who can please, penetrate, persuade, as the kill the snake. Thus, who are they that de- || object may require, possesses the subtlest serive from fiction and literature a prejudicial cret of the diplomatist and the statesman, and effect! We have seen already-the light and wants nothing but opportunity to become superficial; but who are they that derive pro “ great."--Pelham. fit from them? They who enjoy well regulated and discerning minds: Who pleasure ? all mankind ! Would it not therefore be bet

Our neighbors of his majesty's province of ter, instead of depriving some of profit, and || New Brunswick, have viewed the newspaper all of pieasure, by banishing poetry and fic- || warfare upon the late Presidential question in tion from our Utopia, to correct the minds which find evil, where, if they were properly quite a different light from those engaged in insructed, they would find good!

the contention. It would seem that it has afWhetber we agree with Helvetius, that all | forded them some amusement, at least, we men are born with an equal capacity of imll judge so, from the tenor of the following reprovement, or merely go the length with all || marks, copied from " The Weekly Observer :" other metaphysicians, that education can improve the human mind to an extent yet incal

" When the Presidential question was set culable, it must be quite clear, that we can

at rest, we began to feel something like gym. give sound views instead of fallacious, and pathy for our contemporaries on the other side make common truths as easy to discern and of the Lines, thinking that they would be sadadopt as common errors. But if we effect !y in want of materials for their pages which this, which we all allow is so easy, with our

had been for so long a time almost wholly occhildren ; if we strengthen their minds in- || cupied with matter relating to that great nastead of weakening them, and clear their vis

tional question. We observe, however, that ion, rather than confuse it, from that moment,

in one shape or another it still makes its apwe remove the prejudicial effects of fiction, | pearance. It may soon be said of some Ediand just as we have taught them to use a

tors, that " thrice they slew the slain.” Othknife, without cutting their fingers, we teach ers are engaged in endeavoring to justify their them to make use of fiction without pervert- conduct in taking a certain side in the late ing it to their prejudice. Common sense is all ) grand controversy, and reprobating those who that is necessary to distinguish what is good

were opposed to them. A third party are full and evil, whether it be in life or in books : of speculations as to the probable character but then your education must not be that of and results of the new Administration. And public teachiog and private fooling: you must it will not surprise us to witness the subject not counteract the effects of common sense by | of the next President brought upon the tapis, instilling prejudice, or encouraging weakness ;

at no distant period, there being no way of your education may not be carried to the ut- | getting along without the aid of that paramost goal: but as far as it does go you must

mount theme of polemical disquisition. It is see that the road is clear. Now, for instance, in fact, kept, as sportsmen keep a bagged fox, with regard to fiction, you must not first, as

to let loose whenever they want a run. Much is done in all modern education, admit the good may it do them! We thank our stars disease, and then dose with warm water to

that our resources are of a more abugdant expel it ; you must not put fiction into your

and less exceptionable character. child's hands, and not give him a single principle to guide his judgment respecting it, till NARRATIVE OF A CONVICT. his mind has got wedded to the poison, and too weak, by long use, to digest the antidote.

The following Narrative was given by No ; first fortify his intellect by reason, and

Thomas Williams, of Bampton, who was apyou may then please his fancy by fiction. Do prehended for being at large in the country, not excite his imagination with love and glo- | Wales, but who produced his discharge and

after having been transported to New South ry, till you can instruct his judgdment as to what love and glory are. Teach him, in pardon.

" November, 1826. short, to reflect, before you permit him full in

" I was sentenced to transportation for life dulgence to imagine.

having been convicted of a capital felony (sheep stealing,) at the Taunton Assizes, in

1825. I sailed for New South Wales in the If we are wise, we may thank ourselves; || Medway transport, Captain Wright, and upon if we are great we must thank fortune. my arrival at Sydney, as I had been all my

What a rare gift, by the by, is that of wan life employed in the farming business, I was ners! how difficult to define--how much more sent about forty miles up the country, to take

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# charge of about fifteen hundred sheep, belong- 1) diers, and eight of them out of the ten were

ing to a gentleman, who was a magistrate, of either killed or taken prisoners. The other the name of Lawrence.

two escaped by swimming, but lost their fire“Just before I arrived, great depredalion | arms. My fellow-servant, who gave the in. had been committed by some runaway convicts, | formation, received the hundred guineas and who had formed themselves into a gang of ten | his free pardon.--About a fortnight after this, men ; they were the terror of the country- || I was one morning surprised by the appearthey were armed with muskets, pistols, and ance of a man, who came creeping cautiously swords, and made no scruple, is the least resis. out of the wood near my hut. When he saw tance was offered to their plunder to murder me, he asked me, in a most submissive man. a whole family. A proclamation had been is. per if I would give him something to eat, as sued by the Governor, offering a reward of he was very hungry, and had not had any one hundred guineas, and a free pardon, to | food for two days. I did not immediately rtany convict who assisted or was instrumental cognize him as one of the bush-rangers, as in taking either of these men, dead or alive ; || he was so much altered, but I told him I and my master had told me to keep a good would give him some meat, if he would go look out for them, because my situation was with me into my hut; this he refused to do, near their haunts.

and I went and brought him some mution “ The place to which I was sent to live was from my hut. After he had the meat, he askthe most lonely and dismal one I ever saw in ed me if I knew the names of the bushmen my life. I lived in a rude hut, almost in the who had been taken. I said I did not koow midst of a wood, and without a chance of see the names of those who had been taken, but ing a fellow creature for weeks together. Ithat the two men who had escaped were calhad my allowance of flour, tea, and other com led Richard Donne and Michael Cody. The mon necessaries sent to me once a month all man said, my name is Michael Cody-have the animal food I had was mutton, which I you seen any thing of Doone? I said I had killed as I wanted it ; I had no other instru not; but very soon afterwards, whilst Cody ment of defence than a hook. In this lonely || and I were talking, we heard a whistle ; upon state I used to think upon my wife and chil. | which Cody started and said, that is Donne's dren in England, until I was almost mad || whistle, and he returned it, when Donne death itself would have been welcome to me; came out of the wood, and met Cody. Being and I determined to risk myself in endeavour- || then two to one, their conduct was quite ing to take one of these 'bush-rangers,' whep- | changed. Donne had a pistol and a sword ; ever I could get an opportunity. In the season they ordered me to give them what mutton I

of sheep-sheering the shepherds were collect- l had killed, and I was obliged to comply. I ed together from their different stations, and || They then said they should call on me again

travelled from one dock of sheep to another to on the following day, and told me to kill a shear them. About two months after my sheep to have ready for them when they came. being upon my station, the sheep-shearing || As there were several detachments of military took place, and six other men with me went upon the look out for these men, I went in the to shear the different Aocks. As we were re. evening in search of them, but I could not turping, we met by accident with the bush- | find them. rangers, and never did I see such a set of ter “ On the following day the bush-rangers rible fellows: they were all armed with guns || did not come ccording to their appointment, and pistols, and as soon as they saw us they | but the day after Michael Cody came alone. said we must go to a neighbouring farm with || He asked me if I had seen Donne; he said them, which they forced us to do. The farm- | he expected him every minute, as he had fixer and his son and children were obliged to ed to meet him there. In the mean time Co. give up all they possessed to these devils, who dy desired me to get ready some mutton chops. kicked and drove them about in search of what I had made up my mind, as I said before, to they wanted, and threatened to shoot the far- | risk my life to get my liberty. When I first mer if he murmured at what they did. They saw Cody, I resolved to make an attempt to ate and drank and carried away whatever I take him, though he was a much stronger they liked. After we had left this farm they man than I am. I now began to think that let us go our way again, but told us is ever this, perhaps was the only opportunity I might we mentioned that we had seen them, or gave have—but still Donne might come to his asany information about them, they would sure sistance ; and then I knew that my life was ly kill us. I had an opportunity of knowing gone. However, I now thought upon my wife them well during this meeting, and could and children in England, and I made up my have indentified either of them again.

mind. When Cody there desired me to make " A few days after this, one of my compan- | up a fire to fry his mutton chops, I went out iops, who lived near a station where some for sodie wood and brought in with it a strong military were quartered,gare information of bis cord which I threw down carelessly on the having seen the men; and, in consequence of floor. Cody waited a long time for his comsuch information, the bush-rangers were sur- | panion, but be did not come--the chops were prised on the banks of a river, where they ready, and I placed them before Cody and he were resting themselves, by a party of sol- ll began his meal. He asked me to put a kettle

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