Written for the Casket. LINES Written upon reading a description of the burning of the, Richmond Theatre. Oh! why when beauty's smile is sweetest, Is sorrow's footstep often flcetest? Oh! why when beauty's smile is lending A magic charm to all around her, Ah me! it was a fearful sight. For there was youth and beauty there, A shout, a scream, a fearful scream, Wo to the lover whose faithful heart Will burst, if forced from his love to part! There stands a form like angel bright,* Her snow-white robe is wildly flowing, Ah, see! the way through which they came And there they stand, and with mute despair * Miss Conyers, the pride of Richmond, and upon the eve of her marriage with Lieut. Gibbon, who also perished in a vain endeavor to rescue her from the flames. The lady knelt, but her prayer to heaven And her lover too, in his manly pride, From the Saturday Evening Post. THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON. In the summer of 1829 I visited Boston, in company with a few of my friends; one of them a native of Massachusetts, whose acquaintance with Boston and its vicinity was highly useful to us who were strangers, as were his company and conversation pleasing and instructive. We spent about three weeks there; and during that time we made several very pleasant excursions to the neighboring towns and villages. Among others we visited Lexington and Concord. Lexington is about eleven miles distant from Boston, in a north-west direction. The village itself, containing about 1500 inhabitants, is pleasantly situated; but the chief attraction which it presents to visiters is, its being the spot upon which was spilt the first blood in that great struggle of freedom with tyranny, which resulted in the independence of these United States. We stopped here a considerable space of time, to see and take a sketch of the monument erected to the memory of the men who lost their lives in the battle with the British troops, which here took place on the 19th of April, 1775. The monument is plain and simple; but the view of it, leading to reflection on the event it commemorates, is calculated to excite, in the breast of an American, feelings of glory, gratitude, and joy. He calls to mind the many insults and injuries, the oppressive taxes and grievous burdens, imposed upon his ancestors by their mother country. He sees them despising and refusing the luxuries which render life agreeable and pleasant-preferring to live on simple fare, and dress in mean attire, rather than submit to the unjust demands of their oppressors. He sees the army marching towards them, to wrench from them those means of defence which they had with care laid up for a time of need. He sees the small but noble band of patriotic spirits-aged sires and sprightly youths. Here stood they firm; and here they resolved to meet their enemies and drive them back, or perish in the attempt. And now the hostile legion approaches. Its haughty leader thinking-mistaken man!--that they, like coward slaves, his mandates will obey, rides forward, and with an imperious voice tells them that they are rebels; and commands them to throw down their arms and to disperse. They heed him not; and he, enraged, orders his mercenary troops to begin the attack-to hew them down. On they rush; but our little band firmly maintains its ground, and is ready to receive them. Now they join in deadly conflict. Heaven protect the right!-Much blood is spilt, and many a death-blow is dealt. But see, they yield! Oh, heaven! our party yields. Overpowered by numbers they fall back, step by step contending. And now they have reached the bridge. The object for which they have contended is in view. THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON-SIR JOHN MASON, Here they stop. See! they turn upon their pursuers, and tell them they shall go no further: and see, too, there come their brethren to assist them. Now again they join in conflict: and look! the hostile army turns and flees. Our countrymen pursue, and drive them back to whence they came. One long, loud shout-the victory is ours! 209 the advantage of the British was most dearly purchased. A spirit of patriotism was enkindled through all the land. The people saw and felt that they were able to resist; and they resolved that they would not live slaves. The result of their resistance is well known; the wisdom of their resolution needs no better proof than the present prosperous state of that country for which they fought and bled. Now comes the sad and mournful task of consigning to their graves those who have lost their Who that considers the circumstances conlives in this severe and glorious struggle. They nected with our revolution and our country, can dug one grave-they made it deep and wide-fail to perceive the hand of an Almighty and and placed them in it, and over it raised this Omniscient God, overruling and directing the mound. Their sons have raised this simple affairs of the world, and raising, as it were, a monument to commemorate their names. mighty empire in the midst of the wilderness? The battle of Lexington, though the numbers He suffered our forefathers to be oppressed in engaged in it, was not large; though rivers of their native land, that they might flee to this for blood were not spilt, though hundreds of souls safety and repose. Here they imbibed or chewere not hurried by it unprepared into eternity, rished those principles of republicanism and inand hundreds of widows and orphans left to dependence, for which they long contended, and mourn their loss-and though, on this account, which their posterity enjoy. Again Almighty it may not be worthy to be recorded in military God suffered them to be oppressed and borne annals, as a brilliant and remarkable achieve- down by grievous burdens, imposed by Great ment, was productive of important consequences. Britain, whose heart he suffered to become harThe immediate cause which led to the engage- dened as he did that of Pharaoh of old; and as ment was, as has been already hinted, an attempt he led the children of Israel out from Pharaoh's on the part of the British troops to take posses- bondage, so was he with our forefathers, and desion of some military stores, which the colonists livered them from their oppressors. When their had laid up at Concord. The oppressive acts of burdens became too grievous longer to be enthe mother country had already entirely alien- dured, he inspired them with a spirit of resistated their affections; and now, when it appeared ance. And when at length force was used to to be the design of the British to deprive them of compel them to obedience, then was he with the means of defence, which they had with care them. He presided over their councils. He and difficulty provided, they resolved that they assisted them in their first battle, that they might would no longer submit in silence, and deter- by their success be inspired with courage to remined to resist. Accordingly, when the British sist all future attacks. Through every stage of troops arrived at Lexington, they found a small the revolution, and in all our transactions subseparty of men, about seventy in number, drawn quent to that great event, the wisdom and goodup across the road, and prepared to resist their ness of Almighty God have been our chief aid and passage. Thinking that the sight of overwhelm- support. He has made our country what it now ing numbers, or his mere command, would be is, a great and wide spreading empire, prospersufficient to frighten them from their position, the ous at home and respected abroad. To him are British leader ordered them to disperse. They we indebted for all our blessings, and to him is maintained their ground; and the soldiers fired our praise and gratitude due. May he continue upon them. Eight were killed and several to proper our country; to preserve it from diswounded. After a considerable resistance, the cord, anarchy, and confusion; and may the peocolonists were obliged to yield to superior num-ple strive to become worthy of his blessing.. bers, and fled in disorder. The British army pursued their march to Concord. But when they reached the bridge thrown across a small stream at the entrance of that town, they found that the colonists had rallied and gained possession of the bridge. All attempts to dislodge them and pass the bridge, proved unsuccessful, and they were obliged to retreat. The little band of patriots who had so bravely withstood their attack, hung on their rear and severely harassed them. Nor was this ali. From behind every barn and every fence along the road, the people fired upon them as they passed, and thinned their ranks. When they reached Boston, they found their number considerably diminished. They who survived were brow-beaten and ashamed. Such was the first battle fought in the American Revolution. The success with which it was attended, aroused the energies of the people, made them feel their strength, and to resolve no longer to submit to oppression. The battle of Bunker Hill soon followed; in which the Americans, though repulsed, were not defeated, and In his last moments, Sir John Mason thus addressed the family: "Lo, I have lived to see five Princes, and have been privy councellor to four of them. I have seen the most remarkable things in foreign parts; and I have been present in most State transactions for thirty years at home. After so much experience, I have learned that seriousness is the greatest wisdom; temperance the best physician; and a good conscience the best estate; and were I to live again, I would change the court for a cloister, my privy councellor's bustle for the retirement of a hermit; and my whole life in the palace, for an hour's enjoyment of God in my closet. All things now forsake me, except my God, my duty, and my prayers. The malicious censures of our enemies if we make a right use of them, may prove of greater advantage to us than the civilities and flatteries of our friends. 210 PARENTAL REGARD-PARTIES-FIRST AND LAST TICKET. From the Religious Souvenir, 1833. PARENTAL REGARD. Lament not thus-'tis selfish to repine That God recalls the treasure he hath given, Rather rejoice that one sweet babe of thine Now triumphs with the glorious hosts of heaven. Gently, most gently, the afflictive rod Is laid upon thee-thou wilt shortly see, And humbly own, He is a gracious God Who hath in loving kindness chastened thec. For what he doth, although thou knowest not now, And own His dealings merciful as just. He hath called thy happy infant's soul From a bleak world, where sin and sorrow reign, Where strong temptation's stormy billows roll, Seldom, alas, assailing us in vain. Beyond the trials of this wintry clime, Ere yet life's thorny paths his .eet hath trod, His joyous spirit, yet unstained by crime, Is borne in triumph to the throne of God. And wouldst thou the sweet seraph's flight restrain Of Him who cannot err, and kiss the rod- Written for the Casket. First and Last Ticket. From the manuscript of a Condemned Criminal. "Curse the ticket," was my first exclamation on leaving a lottery office, into which I had entered to learn the fate of my first ticket. Would that it had been the last! would that in cursing I had forsaken them entirely! Had I done so, now, perhaps, I should not have been here; my loving and lovely wife, my angelic Amanda, and my prattling David, would not have been mouldering in the charnal house. I might have enjoyed perfect bliss, have been unstained by the blood of my fellow creatures. Oh! well may I curse the ticket-even a death curse. My first ticket was a blank. I was persuaded by a friend to buy it, who tempted me by holding up to view the glittering prize, and exciting my hopes of obtaining it. was not disappointed at the result of my purchase, although a curse involuntarily burst from my lips when I first learnt it. I hardly thought of drawing a higher prize, yet the possibility of being so fortunate, kept my mind in a constant, burning excitement. I was a young man then, and could ill afford to lose the cost of a ticket. However, I comforted myself with the reflection, that experience must be paid for. I also made a solemn resolve, never to be guilty of such a foolish act again. I kept this resolution unbroken for the space of six months; yet "try again, you may be more fortunate. It was the whisperings of my evil genius. I obeyed it. I bought-drew-and was unsuccessful. Previous to this time, I was in good circumstances; and having every prospect of doing well in this sublunary world, I solicited the hand of a Miss Amanda Berton, a young lady who long had possessed the tender affections of my heart. She was one-no, I will not, cannot speak of her as she was. Enough will be said, when I say, she granted my petition, and soon we had our vows made obligatory at the hymenial altar. I was much elated with my success, and my happiness seemed consummated. It was in this felicitous state that I spurned with contempt the repeated and almost extorting solicitations, to try once more my fate in the haphazard of a lottery ticket. But the sweet smiles of my lovely Amanda-the delightful pleasures of my domestic, fireside-nor the warning voice of my past experience, could finally deter me from again trying my fortune. One evening I left my home, with the intention of visiting a friend, and of returning in about an hour. My path to my friend s house was past a lottery office. It was brilliantly lighted up, and in the window were temptingly displayed schemes of "Through life, I have observed that there is chance and invitations to purchasers. As I no superfluous civility that brings more dissatis- passed by the office window, my eye caught the faction to its donor than parties; those that are following, in illuminated letters and figures:not invited become his enemies, while those that" $10,000 prize will be heard from to-nightare, receive the intended compliment only as Tickets $5." I hesitated a moment, then walktheir due, and depart ridiculing the inadequacy ed on. "Who knows but I might get it," internof his efforts. ally said 1. I stopped, turned about, still hesi Hadst thou such cause for thankfulness as now. Now sown in weakness, shall be raised in power. In this, the Christian's blessed hope, resign To God the treasure by his mercy given, S. S. C. PARTIES.-The following is in the life and times of Frederick Reynolds: "It is even worse with those who are concern-tating. "Try again," I heard; and retracing ed in a political party. They make substantial my steps, and with trembling limbs entered the enemies, who never forget them, and acquire office. There I found many of my old associates, friends-who will always forget-to remember swiftly passing around the full bowls. It was not them." long before I was presented with a ticket, to pay the sum demanded, and try my luck. I did so, and was for one time out of many, fortunate. I left the office that evening one thousand dollars better off than when I entered. But wherefore? For home? No-for a tavern! All went for a treat. At midnight I returned home to my anxious and sleepless wife, in a state of intoxication. This was her first experience. 211 day her presence was a curse to me; not that I loved her less, nor that she had changed-but how could I stand before her, perjured as I was, and she not doubting my innocence; how could I, without feeling the keenest pangs of remorse? A thousand times that forenoon did I resolve to seek my friend and return him the ticket, and as *often break them. Conɛcience smote heavily. But the prize, thought I, will check it. Fool that I was, to think that paltry gold would reconcile an offended God-would buy off punishment! The lottery was drawn that afternoon. That evening I sat alone with my wife in her room. She talked of the folly of men, in not being contented with what they possessed, and for being ever in search of more. "How many hearts have been agitated. wound up to the highest pitch, this evening, in hopes of drawing a prize," said she. What could I do? I was there, and had to listen, although each word seemed like a burning coal at my heart. She continued," and how many have spent that which should have gone for bread and clothing for their families-and for what? A piece of colored paper! And think you, my husband, there has been no vows violated-no oaths broken this afternoon?" Heavens, how this tortured me! I made no answer, and she proceeded, "if there are any such, and if they have been unfortunate, how keen must be their disappointment, and how doubly keen their remorse! Are you not, David, better pleased with not buying tickets-allowing you had not pledged your oath to touch not, handle not, the forbidden thing-than you would have been, had you purchased money by it?" Thus did Amanda talk to me, as though I was as pure and guiltless as herself. Innocent one! She knew not, that that very moment, her words were like daggers to my heart-that at every motion of her lips my soul withered in agony; she knew not that my pocketbook was crammed with the tickets-blank tickets! And when she poured out her soul in prayer that night, she knew not that he for whom she so devoutly prayed, dared not to listen to her words, but shut his ears. So it was. * A week passed, and Amanda began to smile again. The excitement I was in that night, she admitted as an excuse for my conduct. But she tenderly advised me-nay, in her prayers, in the stillness of our chamber, she implored God to have me in his keeping, to preserve me from temptation. A guilty conscience goaded me, and once more I resolved to shun the lottery office. My wife was herself again. Months passed away; a charge was introduced to my keeping a holy charge. I was presented with a son. He took his father's name. Thank God! he will not bear his sorrows-his shame! It was then that I was happy as man could needs be. Business prospered; I enjoyed good health, and was blessed with a home where all was peace. I said I was happy; 1 was at times. But there was a secret thirst within me for riches-for the filthy lucre of the world; and yet I was not avaricious, nor was I parsimonious. But the desire had been awakened; the hope-deluded hopehad been encouraged, that by venturing little, much might be had; and throughout my lottery gambling, a burning thought of gain-of gain by lotteries-agitated my mind by day and by night. In the day time, when pursuing my occupation, the thought that by venturing a few dollars I might render myself independent of labor-to allow me to live at ease was first in my mind. I strove to banish such unholy desires, but they haunted me like an evil spirit. About eighteen months after taking my oath, a grand scheme was advertised to be drawn in my own village, at a day not far distant. I felt a strong propensity to try my luck again. I was importuned by friends to buy tickets, the scheme was so grand, the chance of success so great; but I thought of the oath I had taken, and was firm and resolute in my denial. The day of drawing drew nigh. The vender who sold me the prize urged me to take a few tickets; I was also importuned by others to buy, even in the presence of my wife. But I resisted. She was silent, she said not a word; she knew my oath was pledged; she knew that I remembered it, and she had confidence in my keeping it sacred. She only gave a glance of pleasure, it may be triumph, as she heard me refuse my friends' invitations. That night I dreamed that a certain number would be a fortunate one; I purchased it, and it came out to be the high prize. When I arose in the morning, my firmness was a little shaken. It was the day of drawing. A friend came into my store in the forenoon, and showed me a number of tickets; and among these, the number of my dream! He offered them to me; I forgot myself; I mocked my God-I broke my oath! I did not stay in the house at noon any longer than to hurry through with dinner. My wife's presence was a burden to me; her happy smiles discomfitted me, and her cheerful tones went to my heart like a reproach. From that 66 * * * * * Do, my dear husband, stay at home one evening this week! you shall read to me, or I will read to you; come, keep me company this evening. Thus spoke my wife as she took me affectionately by the arm one evening, a tear at the same time filling her eye. Brute that I was! I shook her off repulsively, scarcely deigning her a reply as I went out. I was an altered man; my innocence had departed from me; I had perjured myself. Having once broken my oath, 1 still continued to break it. Not a lottery was drawn but I had some chance in it. Ill luck attended me-blanks, blanks were my portion. Still I kept on. Most of my hours were spent in lottery houses; I neglected my business; debts accumulated; want came upon me; and I had nothing to satisfy them with but a hope-a hope that at the next drawing I should be lucky. As cares increased, I went to the tavern for relief. Remorse gnawed at my heart like a worm. It had drank up all my happiness. When I broke my oath, I thought gold would still my conscience. Gold I had none, so I attempted to ease it by strong drink. Rum burnt my tender feelings, my better nature; but it only added to the quenchless fire that was raging at my heart. It was not uncommon for me at this stage, to get intoxicated every night. Oft have I staggered home to my patient, dying Amanda-for my conduct was making sad inroads upon a constitution naturally delicate, and without a shadow of cause began abusing her. Merciful God, forgive me. Even while she was on her knees at prayerpraying for me! What insult and misery has that woman not endured! and all brought on by me, her husband, her protector! About this time our child died. I dare not think of his death, how it was brought on! The poor child might have lived longer-perhaps he might but he complained of being cold, for want of clothes; and sometimes his cry for bread was vain. It was a great shock to my wife; and her gradual failing, day by day, sobered me and made me thoughtful. But what had I to do with reflection? The past was made up of sharp points, and when I turned to it 1 was pierced; and the future-ha! ha! what, what could I anticipate? What was then in store for me? So I closed my ears, shut my heart to the starving condition of Amanda, and became a brute again! * * It was in the evening of a midsummer cloudy day, that I sallied forth from my boarding hovel to shame and sin, to learn the fate of my last ticket. The woman with whom I boarded was clamorous for payment. That night I told her I expected to realize something. This was my last ticket. To obtain which, I had to dispose of a Bible, which belonged to my late wife, my Amanda, and which was the dying gift of her mother. It was the last thing I held which was once hers. One by one had I disposed of what few things were left at her decease, to gratify my passion for drinking and gambling. I had lost all compunctions of shame. My wife had been dead for two years. During her life, for her sake 1 was not entirely shunned; for her sake, some respect was shown me. But when she was taken away, and when her friends-for friends I had none-saw that I did not reform, they abandoned me to my fate, and I truly became an outcast-an outcast from the society of the virtuous. I blame none, the fault alone was mine. I was advised, admonished, and urged by all that was dear in life, by the prayer of my dying Amanda, by the hopes and fears of an unending eternity of bliss or wo, to restrain my vicious propensities, and to walk in the path of upright virtue. But I turned a deaf ear; I would not hear; I laughed them to scorn. So they left me to my stubbornness. strong purpose. "There is money," I said, be. tween my teeth, as I sauntered along, meditating some desperate deed. I knew not the time of night; it was late, however, for the faintest glimmerings of a candle could not be seen, when a man brushed by me. As he passed I saw it was the vender of the tickets-the man who sold me the first and last ticket!-the man to whom I had paid dollar after dollar until all was gone. As he had a trunk in his hand, the thought presented itself, that as he had received from me, even to the last farthing, I should be justifiable in compelling him to return at least part-I should, by all means, make him give me enough to relieve my misery, to keep me from starving. Such were my inconsistent cogitations, as I slowly followed after him. Before reaching his home, he had to pass over a lonely space where there were no houses, and at that time as silent as eternity. He had gone over about half this space, when I stepped quickly and warily behind him; and grasping with one hand his collar, and with the other the trunk, in a gruff tone demanded his money. The words were scarcely uttered, when I was grappled by the throat. He was a strong man, and had a dangerous hold! It put forth all my strength to shake off his grasp, at the same time striking him in the face and breast; but without avail, his hold was firm. Finding that something must be done, for it was with the greatest difficulty that I could breathe, I clasped him around the waist, and giving a sudden jerk, we both fell; I fell underneath, and he had me in his power. I struggled in vain to extricate myself. He still held me by the throat, and began to call aloud for assistance. What was to be done? I had a jack-knife in my pocket, my left hand was free, it was the work of a moment, the hot blood spirted full in my face. His hold relaxed, and giving a terrible groan, he rolled on the ground in the agony of death. I sprang upon my feet, and snatched the trunk; as I moved away in the deep gloom of night, the death rattle in the throat of my victim came fearfully to my ears. What followed, until I found myself chained in this dungeon, I knew not; I have a faint recollection of flying from the spot where lay the dying man, of being aroused in the morning by the officers of justice, of a court room, where were displayed the trunk found in my possession, and a knife taken from the breast of the person who was killed, with my name on the handle. I have a more distinct recollection of an after trial, and of a condemnation; and soon, the jailer tells me, I am to die--to be publicly executed. I acknowledge the justness of my punishment; I deserve death; may God show mercy to one who showed no mercy-to one whose cardinal virtue was duplicity. * * * * The ticket I now had was to seal my fate. I had fasted more than a day, to obtain the means to purchase it; nay, I had even stinted my propensity to drink, that the stronger and more fiendish passion of gambling night be gratified. By tracing back the life of this condemned Well, I went to the lottery office, and called for man, we find his present condition is the effect the prize list. At a glance I saw my hopes were of this simple cause-a lottery ticket. From this frustrated; and crushing the list convulsively in foolish act, he was led to perjury, from perjury my hand, I muttered a deep oath, and walked to intemperance, from intemperance to beggary, out of the office. That ticket indeed sealed my and lastly, from beggary to murder. Reader, fate. "The world owes me a living, and a liv-shall such be your fate? ing I will have;" I said to myself, as 1 turned away with despairing heart, and walked up the Seneca has very elegantly said that "malice street. My mind was suddenly made up to a drinks one half of its own poison." |