Indiana Palladium, Volume 3, Number 17, Lawrenceburg, Dearborn County, 5 May 1827 — Page 1

-'so EQUALITY OF RJCxHTS IS NATURE'S PLAN AND FOLLOWING NATURE IS THE MARCH OF MAN. Barlow. Volume III. LAWRENCEBURGTI, INDIANA; SATURDAY, MAY 5f 1827. Number 17.

PRLVTED AJVD PUBLISHED BY M. Gregg & D. V. Culley, 0. V EVERY SA TURD A Y. From the Saturday Evening Chronicle. THEODORE HARLAND. A PREMIUM TALE. By Mrs. Dumont, of Vevay, Indiana. Thcodore loved! and the vapid temperament of his mind, produced by long hahifs of dissipation, suddenly gave way to the deepest intensity of excitement. Satiated with the gilded cup of pleasure, he was chained to her unhallowedhaunts, and unable to break the spell which bound his mortal faculties. From this moral incubus this disturbed lethargy of the soul, he was raised by a vision, bright and lovely as the bow of promise on a stormy sky. Elizabeth, but who shall describe her? The ethereal lightness of her form, baffled the gaze ofscrutiny, and the beauty of her features was of it cast, beyond even the magic of the pencil. It was the underinable expres sion of intellect, the radiance of youth, the impress of innocence, the seal of virtue. A halo ot light dwelt around her; folly checked his unwholy sallies, and vice receded at her approach. Such was the being whocrossed the path of Theodore, 3t a time when his bosom was scorched and withered with the heat of uncontrolled and corrupted passions: She passed over his soul like a clear and healthful breeze, amidst pestilential vapors. Her voi' e breathing in mellifluous tones the sentiments of a pure and exalted mind, came like seraphic music on an ear sickened with the syren stains ofdissipation. Man is a bring of inconsistency ! -The odore loved Elizabeth for the purity of her character, hut heeded not the stains that marked his own. He approached her with hope; ho addressed her without embarrassment. The graces of his person met the dark eye of the maiden, and she listened to his conversation with complacency. The 1 inguage of Theodore assumed a new tone. Chaste and elevated, it was fit even for the ear of Elizabeth. Yet the soul of Theodore was above deception, and hypocrisy had never deepened the shades of his character. Who has not felt the sublimating influence of that hour, when the curtains of night are drawn on the silent world, and the moon flings her silver light o'er the quiet scene? such was the presence of Elizabeth; such was the mystic spell, so pure, so holy, that hushed every pas sion to rest in the bosom of Theodore, and called forth sentiments, exalted as the Bcinp that inspired them. Eliz ibeth heard him with delight and believed his firml congenial with her own. Succeedwwv. ing interviews confirmed the fatal illu sion: Visions of bliss float around them, and the pure heart of Elizabeth, beats high at the approach of the profligate! Tis past, the vale of deception is rent for ever! The hand of a friend has torn it rudely away, and the character of Theo " a, l dore, wild, dissolute, and irreligious, is delineated to her astonished view. The odore again beholds her but the glow f her cheek is tied, and her eye is lifted coldly at his approach. What means! this fearful calm, this chilling composure Theodore is not formed1 to endure sus pense: he demands his destiny, and the answer of Elizabeth, gentle, but decisive, Mights at once the blossoms of promised happiness. Abounded at the stroke, as if a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, he scarcely believed it real, and even yet hope is not extinct in his heart. Accus tomed from infancy to all the elegancies of affluent life, Eliz ibeth was the child of nenury. inc casualties 01 iraue naa rr-M 1 1 l L Stripped her father of wealth, and she i .i i f -i -i now shared with her family the homely bread of industry. "I will restore her to that sphere in which she was wont to move, said the impetuous Theodore , and he mentally determined never to resign her. Day after day found him at the cottage of her father, but Elizabeth invariably retired from his presence, or met him with a cold politeness, which congealed the warm current of his heart. Stung at length to madness, and scorning himself for thus brooking the contumely of others: Theodore again plunged into the vortex of dissipation, and strove to lose, in the haunts of tolly, the pure im age of Elizabeth. But Theodore had long been descending the steeps of ruin, and an arrest for debt suddenly checked , bis mad and reckless career. He heard its amount, with a start of convulsive horror: "No," he exclaimed, "I cannot again apply to my father," refusing to give bail, he followed the officers of jus tice immediately to prison

A week had passed away, and among)

the wide circle of gay associates, whom found to visit him. All around was des xneouore cai ea lrienas. no one was olate not a gleam of light crossed his dark and tempestuous spirit! His liber ation is at length announced, and a note in the well known hand of hh father, placed in his eager hands: his bloodshot eye glanced over it with an expression of despair. "Where is he," he exclaimed, and rushing from the house, he beheld his father at a distance walking with hasty and irregular strides. 'My father!" exclaimed Theodore, springing wildly forward, "you give me liberty, but forbid me your presence! Pardon me that I cannot obey you: Will you not hear me? once more, oh my father, say that you will hear me!" "Aod what would you say ?" said Captain Harland, coldly, while he yet evidently struggled with emotion. "I would say that my future life" "Stay, rash y oung man, add not another promise, the many already broken: the season of confidence is past you have exhausted every plea of youth you have mocked every hope of amendment my forgiveness shall no longer sanction your vices, and you have at length drained the fountain that ministered to vour extravagance. Go wretched boy I can no longer shield thee from want, and thy presence, lost and degraded as thou art, will render yet more bitter the bread of poverty." "Stay oh my father! for the sake of her who bore me, stay and tell mcyour dreadful meaning." "Claim y ou yet an interest in the heart you have broken? Presumptuous Theodore! The mother who cherished you is now without. a home the scenes of Vour childhood are already trodden by the foot of strangers. But for this, you had still been a prisoner. Capt. Harland now tore himself from the grasp of his son, and disappeared. Theodore stood appalled as if the earth had yielded up her skeleton dead. His vices rose before him in terrible array fearful as the corruption of the tomb his whole frame was wrought as with a tern pest, suddenly nis ieatures assumed a settled though dark expression, and a lurid gleam of troubled joy passed over them. He walked to the lodgings he had formerly occupied, and locked himself in his apartment. After spending half an hour in writing, he arose and look ed cautiously round as if fearful of being observed. He then took a pistol from his desk, and loaded it with desperate calmness. At this terrible moment, a book which heaccidentally threw from his table, fell heavily on the floor: he stooped mechanically to raise it, and a small but highly finished drawing dropt from its leaves. Had the portals of Heaven opened on his view, the countenance of Theodore could not have changed more suddenly. The pistol fell from his trembling hands; a universal tremor passed over his frame ; a sweat as of death broke out on his forhead, and the blood which had curdled round his heart, rushed back to his ashy cheek: a tear suffused his fix ed eye, and falling on his knees, he lifted his clasped hands in deep and convulsive prayer. . Impetuous as the mountain cataract, ?' Theodore had been precipitated fronr sJ folly to folly, and vice to vice, by the ar dent temperament ot his nature, rather than the perversion of his principles: he had once been the child of promise, but an early introduction to dissolute com panions, blighted the opening blossoms of his mind, and planted in their stead the gloomy weeds of corruption. At a time when his irregularities first withered the hopes of paternal love. lTl I i 1 . J I .. J ineouore reiumeu unt-v cieui y unu late at night, to the house of his father. n ? i jI i - t. Passing his mother's apartment with a noiseless step, he heard the low deep tones of prayer, and through her half oDen door, beheld his mother, kneeling at the throne of Grace. He listened in breathless silence: she was supplicating pardon for her erring son she implored the protection of the Most High, for the weakness of youth, i lie prayer ceased; the sobs of the mother only were heard. Theodore retired, but not to sleep. "I will perpetuate this scene,' exclaimed he, "it shall strengthen me in the hour of trial." Theodore drew with a master hand, and he now sketched a strong and touching representation of the recent scene. The kneeling attitude of his mother her interesting form, now scarcely past the zenith of her beauty her pale countenance, deeply touched with sorrow but marked with the ferver of devotion her clasped hands and up turned eye, all were drawn with a cor redness and strength of expression,

which g..ve to the lifeless paper an in

terest,as deep and affecting as the ori ginal. This drawing had been carefully pre served, but time had effaced the impres sion, and it was now forgotten. Such was the picture that met the darkened eye of Theodore, at the mo merit when his impious hand had raised the instrument of self-destruction; and the words of his mother which he had written on its margin again sounded on hir ear. "Subdue, Oh Heavenly Father! the stormy passions of his soul, and guide his wayward feet in the paths of piety and virtue, " "Hear, oh God of Mercy !" exclaimed the kneeling Theodore "hear her prayer, and for her sake pardon the guilt of this dreadful hour." And that prayer was indeed heard, for a peace such as he had never before known now dawned on his throbbing bosom; he rose with confidence and meditated what course he should pursue. "I will not again intrude myself on my father, till I am worthy of his forgiveness. I will direct all the energies of my mind to the profession I have so long virtually abandoned, and look forward to the time when 1 can restore that wealth which my vices have so wantonly scattered." Such was the determination of Theodore, but in his professional career heat once foresaw obstacles of the most fearful weight; he had forfeited the confidence ot the public and must necessarily remove beyond the reach of distrust. Having written to his mother and obtained her pardon and her blessing, without daiing again to address his father, he left the scenes of his misguided youth and buried himself in a distant metropolis. Unable, to contend with poverty where he had long known better days, Capt. Harland formed the determination of removing to the wilds of the West, whither ii . i" j a r i a hmaii pany 01 auveniurous lamuies from his native State, was now preparing to emigrate. On a lovely stream, which rolled its clear waters through limitless forests ofluxuiient fertilit), the weary travellers at length formed a permanent residence. All around them was gay as the garden of Eden. The blossoming earth teemed with plenty, but it was the wild prodigality of nature, and the pampered child of affluence looked vainly for the luxuries of a cultivated soil. But Capt. Harland had been a soldier of the Revolution, and scorned the gratifications of the sensualist, while Mrs. Harland, with a constitution delicate, even to sickness, possessed an elevation of soul that lifted her above the common wants of mortality. Co-icentrati, g every wish within the domestic circle, she felt not the loss of general society, and the friendship of one loYely being, whose character resembled her own, threw its gentle charm over the shades of solitude. Elizabeth had been the companion of her toilsome journey; for among the emigrants thai accompanied Capt. Harland, the family of Elizabeth had furmed a part. Struck at once with the mild virtues of her character, Mrs. Harland soon regarded her with maternal atfection, and received in return all the nameless cilices of filial love. Regarding the surrounding scenery with an eye ot enthusiasm, and beholding in perspective days, of returning pros-; perity, Mrs. Harland, but for one absorb-i ing sentiment, might have been happy. Theodore, to whom she had repeatedly written since their arrival, still continued silent; Capt. Harland at length addressed his Eastern friends, soliciting information of his son: none could be obtained. Theodore could be no where traced and the wretched parents foreboded, some fearful catastrophe. Meanwhile their new abode had already become one of terror. The Red Man beheld with dis may thxi rapid encroachments upon his native soil, and the tomahawk was raised to repel the invaders. Death was every where around them, and the white blos som of the forest was daily crimsoned li i T .,-.-a ..:.!.: 1 wiin uiouu. iiiikiuilu Vfiiiuo a ruae and crow ded fortress, yet still exposed to the wide besom of desolation which th proud savage wielded over the settle ments of the white man, the parents of Theodore passed two years, ignorant of his fate, and losing, unoer trie absorbing influence of parental anxiety, the sense of individual suffering. Increasing num bers at length gave them strength to contend with the savage foe; and Capt. Harland, at the head of a few volunteers, joined a detachment sent out by the Ex ecutive to destroy ttie Indian villages. The wary savage still fled before them, and as vet nothing intercepted their march. Iear one Ci the deserted villa.

ges, Capt. Harland saw a grave freshly

made; a wild rose was planted over it, and an Indian name was cut on a rude stone that marked the spot. The soldiers pasied op, and the red glare of battle suddenly gleamed around them. From the long grass of the Prairie, the painted savage, desperate in revenge, and laughing wildly with demoniac fury , rose on the unsuspecting party in the terrible array of countlcts numbers. The conflict was short and decisive: many of the soldiers were as yet unused to the arts of savage warare, and the troops gave way in every direction. Maddened at beholding his flying sol diery, Capt. Harland, with some, others remained on the field of slaughter a few daring moments; but resistance had be came desperation, and even they were at length driven to the alternative of flight, a flight marked with blood and inter cepted by the mangled and convulsed torms ot the dying. Wounded and faint Capt. Harland soon fell behind his com panions. A party of savages rushed past him at a little distance. Two of them stopped and the one uttering a loud w arwhoop sprung towards him with an upraised tomahawk. Harland was exhausted and silently commending his spirit to the author of his being bowed his head to receive the expected stroke. At this moment the younger of the savages darted forward like an infuriate panther, and buried his tomahawk in the head of his tawny companion. The fallen warrior rolled in the dust and expired. The surviving savage now turned to the astonished Harland, and beckoning him to follow, plunged into the thickei. Harland instinctively obeyed, and the Indian led the way through the thickest part ofi the forest. At length suddenly pausing, he plucked a green plant, and approaching Harland with respect, applied it to his wounds. He then pointed to a fallen tree with a look not to be misunderstood. Its hollow trunk afforded the exhausted soldier a place of concealment, and the Indian disappeared. Nature was spent, and Harland slept long and quietly. He woke to a perception of re newed strength. Through a cleft in the tree, he saw the stars glittering above him, and leaving its narrow environs, the first object he saw, was the Indian 1 1 I T 1 standing pensively neiore mm. ne approached Capt. Harland, and, present ing him some wild meat which he had just dressed, inquired, in broken English. at what distance were the white settle merits." Capt. Harland informed him, and, pointing out their course, added, "you will accompany me to my people.'' "Yes" said the Indian. "Hethlamico will live with the white man." Thev travelled with the utmost caution, hiding themselves by day, and shunning even the wild paths of the hunter. Hethlamico seemed insensible to fatigue and anxious only for the preservation of his companion. He still dressed his wounds with the medicinal plants of the forest, procured him food while he slept and supported his fainting steps when exhausted with suffering. They emerge from the wilderness; the forts of the white man rise before them, and Capt. Harland points out to his preserver the place of his abode. A! scene of unutterable emotion succeeds, Hethlamico is presented as his deliverer.! Mrs. Harland struggled in vain to speak; language was lost in the excess of power-, lul feeling, while the Indian, dropping for! a moment on his knee, rose, and precipi-i tately retired. "'Tis mysterious!" said Capt. Har land, and he almost believed himself in a dream. Mrs. Harland was not alone. during the absence of her husband; the

presence ofEHzabeth had been her sup- eamea peace, w men passettt port, and Elizabeth now participated inshoxv- Theodore, shuddering at the her joys. An hour of calmness arrived,! Past continued rejoicing in the course of and again the Indian youth stood before! virtue an,d Elizabeth, like the star of

them, dressed in the wild habiliments the savage: an air of elegance still marked his form; and his fine features, though disfigured by the deep stains of war, y et beamed with a strong expression of unaltered meaning. To the various questions of Captain H i i ! i i i arland, he replied only in monosyla - bles, and even then with hesitation. His j eye at length rested on a flute lying near him and he raised it mechanically to his lips: no one spoke, for his first breath had called forth a strain of seraphic melody: he played the Soldier, and the deep rich tones seemed to bear on their mellow wing, the words to which they had been appropriated: Hia fded features, have lost their li?ht, And suffering has marked his foim, His brow is marked with the scars of the fisht And his spirit is weary, and dark a th night, Tbat fellow ths wreck of the stna.

J He at length paused,, and began a sa

cred air of which Mrs. Harland was particularly fond. It was the return oi the Prodigal, and a slight tiemour in his tones was now distinguishable. The pallid cheek of Mrs. Harland grew yet paler while Hethlamico proceeded, and dwelt with a lengthened and unearthly pathos on the notes accompanying the words. ''Behold the lost receive the wanderer hosae. An audible cry escaped the cony ulsed bosom of Mrs. Harland; the instrument fell from the hands of the tawny musician, and the lost Theodore, now clearly revealed, knelt at the feet of his deeply injured parents. Who shall describe the scene that followed: as well might the painter attempt the holy but dissolving colours of the Rainbow. Apprised of the dangers that burg over the infant settlements of the West Theodore learned the removal of his family with horror. kiI will follow them " said he unhesitatingly; "I will exert every energy of my soul in their defence." But it was otherwise ordained. Descending the Ohio, Theodore became a prisoner; deigned for sacrifice, he was conducted to the scene of intended slaughter, but female pity interposed, and he is consigned to the care of an aged squaw whom war had rendered childless. The name oi mother w as sacred to his soul, and the tenderness of her who adopted it excited his gratitude. Regarding- his sufferings as the just reward of his vices, he bowed subrms?ively to his fate and tho he looked forward to the season of escape, evinced not the slightest symptom of regret. He studied the character of the avage and acquired his confidence He learned their rude arts and stroe to supply to his Indian mother, the cfrices of her departed children. Hi efWts were successful; she regarded him with maternal approbation, and smiled benignly on the son of her adoptior, at the moment when her wearv nirit flrfl through the valley of death. . The only tie was now broken, that bound him to his captors, and the moment of desperate resolv e had arrived. He visited, for the last time, the spot where his Indian mother slept, and pluc ked the weeds from the rose bush, planted on her grave. He then went forth to the battle field, perpared to join his countrymen or perish in the attempt. Such was the simple tale of Theodore, and in his speaking countenAnce the dignity of settled virtue, now mingled with the humility of conscious error. But there is still a restlessness ih his searching eye; a look of deep and anxious enquiry. Where is the bright being that met his astonished gaze on his first arrival? Has his presence banished it or was it only a vision of his morbid fancy ? Elizabeth had indeed fled, for the high throbbings of her heart, alarmed the purity of her principles. Time passed on, and the acknowledged virtues of Theodore, sanctified the emotions he had long since excited. Peace again i eared her lovely temples on the Western waters the war-whoop no longer echoed through the w ilderness the green earth was gladdened with plenty, and round the habitation of the Harland?, the hand of cultivation called forth the fruits ofluxury and the flowers of paradise. The pnde of Capt. Harland, gloried in the deeds of his son, for Theodore had enrolled himself among the defenders of the soil, and became a pillar of strength in the fabric of their national prosperity lhe lacerated bosom of Mrs. Harlar.u, now nealeu Dv ine nana , )u ai Piet 0fievt:iul'Bi 5Ut u a umu fUlu aatiea radiance on his path of existence. Singular Coincidences Died at Tranen?, Eog on 15th October, 1826, Helen Manner' and on the '6th do. Andrew Edmond, her husband, each of thm at the advanced ag of j " . . w i. tic uutu iu me Bd lite year jand in tfae iAJ nib. and wore baptised on cU veara. I hev were horn in th nam vpi the same day. When married they were each of them 22 years of age; they lived together for 52 years, died within -4 hours of each oth er and were interred in Traneot cburch-yarii on the same day, aud in the same grave. To know a man, observe how he zvins his object, rather than how he loses it; for, when we fail, our pride supports us, when we succeed, it betray s us. Lacoiu True happiness resides alons in the mind, and whoever hunts after it elsehere w HI never fiud it.