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at once.

CHILD'S PLAY.-George Child is the author Mount ARARAT.-Nothing can be more of a new play,“ A Daughter's Revenge." beautiful than the shape of Ararat ; nothing MISERY.--To be placed at the head of a

more awful than its height. All the surrounddinner table before a delicious piece of roast

ing mountains sink into insignificance when

compared to it. It is perfect in all its parts. beef; company large, including some half a dozen ravenous children, who will eat noth-| Everything is harmony ; and all combines to

No rugged features; no unnatural prominences. ing but beef; every one vociferous in praise | render it one of the most interesting objects in of the viand, while you are kept constantly gawing at it with a carving-knife as dull as

nature. Spreading originally from an immense Parson Drowsy's sermon.--,

-Mem. Thermom

base, the slope towards its summit is easy and

gradual, until it reaches the regions of snow eier at 90.

where it becomes more abrupt. As a foil to

this stupendous object, a small hill arises GUESS.—This word is often quoted as pecu- from the same base,similar in shape, and in any liar to the Yankee dialect, and attempts are

other situation entitled the rank among high constantly made to stamp it with derision by mountains. No one since the flood seems to those who seize every opportunity to ridicule bave been on the summit of Ararat. For the the manners and customs of the New England rugged ascent to its snowy top appears to renpeople. That it is more frequently spoken by der the attempt impossible. No man certainly, The Yankees than any other people I would has ascended it in modern times. When the not pretend to deny, because I think it an ev adventures of Tournefort failed, it is not probidence of their good taste to give preference able that any one else had succeeded. to such an admirable word. It is almost the only word in our language that has always ARABIAN DELICACI.-The extreme delica. the same meaning, and awakens different as

cy of Arab manners could not be better illussociations ; a kind of self-illustrating property || trated than by the following lively anecdote : that makes its fitness and application known “ Among the numerous instances which we GUESS! What child ever mistook

observed during our stay at Bengazi, illustrait? What sage would ever disregard it? It tive of Arab character and prejudices, we may rouses curiosity and thus stimulates the mind

votice one which occurred in the skeefs (or to exertion. It invites free inquiry, and thus entrance hall) of our house, where a select is favorable to liberty and literature. It checks | party of the inhabitants of the town usually arrogance of assertion, and thus represses the assembled themselves when the weather perviolence of party and of controversy. As a mitted. On this occasion, the women of Eng. peace-maker it is more potent than an “IF” laod formed the principal subject of conversa. --indeed it now occurs to me that doubtless | tion, and the reports of their beauty, which the prevalence of this word, and the feeling | had reached some of our visitors, appeared to of respect for the doubts and deliberations it

have made a great impression in their favor. must occasion, have greatly contributed to

One of our party then produced a miniature keep the Yankee temperament cool, and pre- || from his pocket, which chanced to be the revent the necessity among us of having re semblance of a very pretty girl, and he roundcourse to the pistol, to teach good breeding or ly asserted that every woman in England was command civilities. No word which could be as handsome. The first Arab of our party substituted would supply the loss of GUESS.

who was favored with the sight of the lady in " I reckon,”--the phrase of a creditor, and question, started back in dismay and confuI always feel inclined to ask the person who sion; and all his worthy countrymen who cast uses it, how much I owe him, not a very || their eyes upon the picture withdrew them, pleasant question for a person destitute of

on the instant, in the greatest alarm, exhibitcash.

ing the strongest symptoms of astonishment " I think,”-false, and half of the persons and shame. The fact was, that the young lawho use the phrase never think.

dy who had caused so much confusion, was " I believe, "'-What business has a man to || painted in a low evening dress; and her face intrude his belief on me, when I merely ask was only shaded by the luxuriant auburn him the distance to the next towa?

curls, which fell in ringlets over her forehead But " I guess,"'-ay, that's the word. It

and temples. Every Arab who saw the pichas melody in its sound, modesty in its asser ture actually blushed and hid his face with tions, and magnificence in its promises. It is his hands, exclaiming-W'Allah haram-by simple, sentimental or sublime, according to heaven 'tis a sin to look upon such an expose the object on whicn it is employed. It must

ure of charms!" also be considered poetical as it contains the essence of imagination, namely, uncertainty.It is philosophical because it invites to reflec. ll weighing 110 pounds was roasted whole, at a

Hot WEATHER.-Last week, a neather tion. In short its beauty and utility are so

party in Canajoharie. apparent, that the Yankee who discards it from his vocabulary, deprives himself of a DUNNING REPORT.-John Dunning was treasure, which “Greek and Roman lore can publicly reprimanded at Salem last week, for De’er supply."-Boston Lit. Gas.

a disturbance in the street.



reputation which Mr. Fessenden the author of WORCESTER, SATURDAY, SEPT. 6, 1828.

this book (and also of the New England FarSUMMARY OF NEWS,

mer,) has acquired as a writer and compiler An unfortunate difficulty has arisen between of matter appertaining to both theoretical and the Common Council and Firemen of New | practical agriculture, is a sufficient warrantee York; and we learn that a few days since the l of the value and usefulness of this work to latter actually stood by and saw two build- || those who have a taste for gardening. The artiings consumed, without a single effort to ex cle on fruit trees is particularly valuable to our tinguish the flames. It is quite the fashion at farmers. Those persons who wish to profit by present for every brother quill who can leave the experience of others in the management of his desk for a few days journey, to entertain fruit trees or a garden will derive more practic ! bis patrons with an account of his travels.- || cal information from this book, than from any We too have travelled, but start not good | other on the same subjects that we know of. reader, we have no intention of boring you with a long account of the wonders we have Hard Question.-The Editor of “ The Morseen and the “ bair breadth scapes" we have | alist,” (Southbridge,) very gravely asks, what passed, but shall, in as few words as possible | shall we write ?" and says, “ The compositor is state the result-we enjoyed the journey high- || waiting for to put the editorial scribblings into ly, met fair weather and foul,passed over rough his stick.” Surely the Editor never was known roads and smooth, saw hills, vallies, plains, ll to use a more appropriate term for bis own rivers, swamps and last not least, sailed o’er | writings than the foregoing. - Bot, Masters “the vasty deep,” and finally came home con

I am to discourse wonders : but ask me not tented. Russia and Turkey-Brahilow has

what; for, if I tell you, I am no true atheni

an. I will tell you every thing right as it fell surrendered to the Russians after a sharp con


Shaks. fict, they were repulsed in their assault upon the place, and after an armistice, the Turks

POETRY. gave up the town on the 18th June, three days after the assault. Gen. Lafayette was pres. | BALBOA'S FIRST SIGHT OF THE SEA. ent at the last celebration of American Inde.

“ After twenty-five days of excessive fatigue pendence in Paris. The plague is said to have they came to the last mountain. Up this he made its appearance among the crews of the went alone, being determined that none should Russian fleet in the Mediterranean. A young

rob him of the first sight. He attained the man has been fined $10 and costs at Spring- summit, from whence he saw the vast Pacific,

rolling beneath his fcet." field, for taking three sweet apples from a farmer's orchard. The crops in some parts of

He stood on Andes' rock-ribbed mount,

The first who there had been, England have been seriously injured by heavy || And looking down upon the fount rains. « Notions of Americans picked up by a Of billowy waters green, travelling bachelor,” is the title of Cooper's He felt his bounding bosom swell new work; it is spoken well of by American

With warm emotions, but the spell writers and ridiculed and criticised by Eng Of strange, extatic pleasure broke, lish writers, who know nothing of the people

And warm with heart-felt joy he spoke. about whom they are ranting save only through "I am the first, I am the first, the medium of their own public prints. How Who e'er upon this summit stood, is it possible for an Englishman who has never

And saw upon his vision burst perhaps, been without the smoky precincts of

The high waves of this boundless do od. London, to say with the least shadow of truth Yon sun is o'er me, I have seen " that the good sense of America will reject

His golden streams in other climes;

Earth smiles around me, I have been th is gasconading gallimafraw with more de

Where 'twas as bright in by-gone times ; rision and dislike than, it can excite in any other quarter of the globe.” This is of a piece

But ocean, man's enraptured eyes

Ne'er rested on thy wave before, with other of John Bull's impudent assertions

And heart ne'er felt that glad surprise calculated to supply the want of truth.

Of him who now is on thy shore.




Yes, I behold thee in the pride

FROM THE TOILET. Of nature's first untrodden state,

THE INTEMPERATE HUSBAND, As, heaving high, thy briny tide In mountains rolls, sublimely great.

How often have the beautiful lines of PER

CIVAL expressed the agonies of a wounded and Man has not known thee, that deep wave still affectionate heart.

Ne'er heard the shouting seaman's call ; And thy dark abyss, it ne'er gave

He comes not-I have watch'd the moon go

down, A covering to the sailor's pall.

And yet he comes pot-once it was not so. Then hurry on in pomp and power,

He thinks not how these bitter tears do flow, In conscious innocence and glee,

The while he holds his riot in that town. Till time shall usher in the hour,

Yet he will come and chide, and I shall weep, When man shall prove him worthy thet.

And he will wake my infant from its sleep,

To blend its feeble wailing with my tears. For time shall come, O hail the day!

0! how I love a mother's watch to keep When thou shall bear, at man's command, || Over those sleeping eyes, that smile which The stately vessel on its way,

cheers lo mighty pride from land to land. My heart, though suak in sorrow, fixed and

deep. Then fare thee well; when time has rolled-

I had a husband once, who lov'd me-now When many a future age is o'er

He ever wears a frown upon his brow, When man's bold prowess long hath told

And feeds his passion on a wapton's lip, That thou art known to.human lore, As bees from laurel flowers poison sip :

But I cannot hate-0! there were hours, Shall countless millions gladly say

When I could hang forever on his eye, Balboa trod a lonely way

And time, who stole with silent sweetness by,
Upon this steep, this rugged mount,
To view,-the first,--thy rolling fount. P. | Strewed, as he hurried on, his path with flow?

I lov'd him then-he lov'd me too-my heart
Still finds its fondness kindle if he smile!

The memory of our loves will ue'er depart;

And though he often sting me with a dart, ALLEINE CONYGNHAME. Venom'd and barb’d, and waste upon the

vile. Why dost thou talk of death laddie,

Caresses which his babe and mine should Why dost thou long to go?

share ; The master who has plac'd thee here

Though he should spurn me, I will calmly Has work for thee to do.

bear What wouldst thou do in Heaven laddie,

His maduess—and should sickness come, and What wouldst thou say in Heaven, When the master ask'd "what hast thou done

Its paralizing hand upon him, then • With the talents I have given?

I would, with kindness, all my wrongs repay,

Until the penitent should weep, and say, “ Thou hast had all of earthly good

How injured and how faithful I have been. " The sons of earth desire, “I gave thee much, and justly now

Married, "1 much of thee require.

In Shrewsbury, on Sunday evening last, by

Rev. Mr. Allen, Mr. William Legate, of this "I gave thee wealth and power, « And the poor around thee spread,

town, to Miss Nancy D. Phelps, daughter of " Where are the sheep and lambs of mine

Capt. Azor Phelps. " Whom thou hast rear'd and fed?

Died, “I gave thee mind and eloquence

In this town, Sept. 2, Southworth A. son "Thy fellows to persuade,

of Mr. South worth A. Howland, aged 2 years 66 Where are the thousands, by thy powers and 2 months. " More wise and holy made?

WORCESTER TALISMAN. “I plac'd thee in a land of light

Published every other Saturday morning, by " Where the Gospel round thee shone,

DORR & HOWLAND, Worcester, (Mass.) at $1 " Where is the heavenly mindedness "I find in all my own ?

a year, payable in advance.

Q Agents paying five dollars will be enti66 And last I sent thee chastisement

led to receive six copies. " That thou might'st be my son,

Letters, intended for THE TALISMAN, 6. Where is the humbled heart which says

must be post paid to insure attention. “ O Lord ! thy will be done ?"




Zuortester Talisman.

NO. 13.

SEPTEMBER 20, 1828.



site in their natures; William carried even in

his countenance, that expression which evin. FOR THE TALISMAN.

ces firmness and decision ; and in his heart, ALFRED ANSON.

the power to resist the temptations of the Among those superior qualities which are world. Alfred, on the contrary, although he either naturally inherent in man, or nursed up knew the distinction between right and wrong, beneath the genial influence of his own sound and would fain choose the better way, had not mind and well directed judgment-perhaps the manly decision to resist a temptation which there is no one which is more essential to the came under a garb of pretended friendship, unsecurity of character, or our own happiness | less immediately under the eye of his friend, through life, than self-denial. It is one of and fortunate indeed it was for him that he those requisites, without which, though pos had made choice of so valuable a person for sessed of most others, man seems to be unqual- || his friend. Time passed on, the friends grew ified for passing safely through the numberless up to the cheerful dawn of manhood, but at temptations, allurements and vices, which so length a circumstance, unfortunate indeed to strongly characterize this“ sublunary world.” || Alfred, compelled his friend to remove far inStill, notwithstanding it is necessary to con to the interior of the state, to reside many stitute a perfect man. How unfrequently do | months. Their parting was truly severe; yet we meet with it, to that degree with which not so much so to William as to his friend, as he we might desire that every one should be pos was going upon a journey, his attention, while sessed of it. Yet, self-denial is a passion, if it on the road, would naturally be more turnmay so be termed, which is almost wholly at ed towards the ever-changing scenery of the the disposal of man. Its geed is planted by country through which he travelled, than Nature in his heart, and the power given him | reflecting upon his home and friends, with all to water and to nourish it, or to leave it un their endearing associations which he had left molested in its primitive state. Therefore, as behind. Alfred was left upon the scene of we may daily witness, if guided by reason, he his youth, to pursue the same routine of occhooses to cultivate this seed, it flourishes cupation, with nothing new to divert himself, and increases, but otherwise, if he permits it and deprived of the society of him, who shar

lie unheeded and neglected, in a few short ed a portion of his heart. Yet, he felt that years it withers, decays, dies and is forgotten. || absence could not “ break the tie that binds There are individuals, however, who fain the hearts of friends,” and though William would cherish this inward principle, and be was absent, he felt that they were not entire. shielded by its influence, but, owiug to a ly separated. They had still one resource left, weakness in their natures, their efforts are par. || by which they might exchange their feelings alyzed and their endeavors fruitless. Of such a and their sentiments,-through that most usecast was he whose history shall now be given. || ful art, the art of writing, by which those who

Alfred Anson was a young man of warm and are in distant and far separated lands can generous feelings. In his friendship he was “hold sweet converse," and hearts separated ardent even unto enthusiasm, and he had the by the rugged hills of many countries, can power, although young, of selecting those for

commune together. In this Alfred found a his companions, whose natural inclinations led || partial antidote for his sorrows: but, accusthem to virtue rather than vice. But, situ- | tomed as he had been, to have a friend conated as he was in the world, his acquaintance stantly with him, unto whom he might reveal was extremely limited, and his firmest and the whole workings of his bosom, he soon remost regarded friend was one for whom his at solved to mingle in new company, and choose tachment had commenced in early life. Wil. || another, a present confidential companion.liam Ainsworth was nearly the age of Alfred ; But, alas, he went forth into the crowd, and iheir introduction to tach other was while en finally was allured, unsuspectingly, to mingle joying the youthful merriments of the street, with those unprincipled gangs which surround and the friendship which was then plighted the gaming table, and throng the shops of libetween them, grew firm with increasing age. quor. He went, not that his inclination diBut yet, there was something entirely oppo rected him there, but by falling into the ac

quaintance of one, who flattered and pre- l, that it were but the fanciful vision of a midtended friendship. He followed this enemy | night dream! but no, I am too well assured of to his future happiness to the den of mid the reality, for intemperance will never acnight revelry. The destroying bowl, the in- | knowledge itself, unti! upon the brink of disebriating draught, the poisonous cup of in- | truction. Return then I conjure thee, oy all temperance came to his lips, -he sipped our friendship, by everything which thou his absent friend and his admonitions, togeth- || holdest dear upon earth, return to that mode er with an inborn sense of doing wrong, rush of life in which I left thee, Shrink with hored like a torrent upon his heart, and he dash ror from the gulf that is yawning before thee. ed the bowl away, with a brief determination Farewell ; I shall return to the home of my of leaving it forever. But he had been led in- || fathers as soon as possible, and shail still in. to an inextricable maze, into the labrinth of dulge the hope of finding thee as thou wert vice, the wild of intemperance. His good formerly.

WILLIAM." resolutions weighed but an atom in the But alas, in vain did he cherish so fond a balance, when opposed by the flattery and hope. Alfred's conduct, together with the enticements of his false friend, and he was,

anguish of his mind, threw him into a quick imperceptibly to himself, hastening forward consumption, which hastened him to the grave, with an accellerated step towards the vor and William returned, only to pluck the first tex of destruction. At length, the gaming || blossom of spring which grew near the little table, and the expense of the revelling to mound that covered the ashes of his unfortuwhich he had been accustomed, began to nate friend.

CLARENCE. bring around his walls the ghastly heralds of poverty. Wretchedness, ruin and despair grinned horribly before his eyes. In his more sober

THE HUMOROUS MAN. and serious intervals, he would answer the e

You shall know the man I speak of by the pistle of his friend in such a manner, that

vivacity of his eye, the morn-elastic tread nothing could be suspected, and William would have remained in total ignorance of his cir

of his foot, the lightness of his brow, and the cumstances, had he not been apprised of them, | The muscles of his mouth, unlike those of

dawaing smile of pleasantry in his countenance. from his own paternal mansion. But he was not

Monsieur Melancholy, (whose mouth has a aware of the real situation of his friend, until Alfred, finding his case desperate, and his des.

downward drag austere,') curl upward like

a Spaniard's mustachios. He is a man who truction inevitable, sat down in an overwhelming paroxysm of mingled emotions and pour

cares for nothing so much as a 'mirth-moving trayed to William, in glowing colors the sad jest ;' give him that, and he has " food and

raiment. He will not see what men have to reality. His letter concluded thus.-" Hasten then, O hasten my beloved, thou to whose

care for, beyond to-day; and is for Tomorrow's breast I'have forever clung, as the feeble ivy || providing for himself. He is also for a new clings to the giant oak. Hasten, lor the ver

reading of Johnson's old play of 'Every Man in

his humor ;' he would have it. Every Man in dure of the ivy has withered, the chill blasts of penury, of wretchedness, and must I say of Humor... He leaves money and misery,to misintemperance have rushed along, and swept

ers; ambition and blood to warriors and highits garlands far away. Then hasten, for the

waymen; fame, to courtlaureate and lord-mayvine itself is decaying; no longer shielded by

honors, to court-panders and city the support of the towering oak, it is fast hasi- || knights; the dread of death, to such as are ening down to mingle with its native dust.

not worthy of life ; the dread of heaven, to Come ere the last spark of life is totally ex

those who are not good enough even for earth; tinguished, come and soothe the sorrows that

the grave, to parish-clerks and undertakers; weigh heavily upon this bosom, come quiet tombs, to proud-worms ; and palaces to pauthis haggard brow, and smooth the dying pil.

pers. low of thy unfortunate, ungrateful, but loving

It is enough for him if he may laugh the friend,- Alfred."

hours away ;' and break a jest, where tempers This was a thunderstroke to William ; as more humorous break a head. He would not has been said before, he had been informed of barter with you one wakeful jest for a hundred the deviation of Alfred from the paths of vir sleepy sermons; or one laugh for a thousand tue, but was not acquainted with his real sit sighs. He says, that if he could allow himself uation, and such a change, coming so sudden to sigh about any thing, it would be that he ly as it did, could not but awaken strong and

had been serious when he might have laughpowerful emotions. After the first intensity ed ; if he could weep for any thing, it would of the shock had subsided, he hastened to re be for mankind, because they will not laugh turn an answer, which, though brief, spoke more and lament less.-Yet he hath tears for the whole language of his heart; an extract is the orphan and the unhappy; but his tears given.

die even where they are born,-in his 'heart "O, Alfred, thou hast fallen upon the rock

of hearts ;' he makes no show of them; like upon which I always seared thy gallant bark April showers, they refresh where they fall, would wreck; my fearful anticipations have and turn to smiles, as all tears will that are been too truly, too sadiy realized. Would not selfish. His grief bas a humanity in it,

ors ;

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