Vincennes Gazette, Volume 11, Number 46, Vincennes, Knox County, 23 April 1842 — Page 1

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W III kM TRUTH WITHOUT FEAR. OLU3IE XL VLNCENXES, INDIANA, SATURDAY MORNING, APRIL 23, 1812. NO. 10.

THE ROSE OF MAY. From the "Exiles of Palestin," by Mr. Carne, author uf "Letters from the East." I saiJ the flower woulJ bloom no more, That withered yesteiJay ; That morning dews would ne'er restore My lovely rose of May. The future was too cold a thing In my sweet dream to be ; The present rose, the present pprinsr. Are all of life to rue. I do remember well my erief, hen died my flower ami th?n My joys when time brought, leaf by leaf, A rwet a flower again. And then, I said, "Farwcll, despair, Thou art not guest for me ; What e'er I lose of bright or fdir, I hope again to see."' Ala ! I've often wept since then, And death has robbed my bowers ; II ;t even amidst the criefs of men, I've co:nf.rt found in flower. For, if the bloom of love be brief, And if Fame's crown be riven, I would no mourn life's fading leaf, 15 nt look for spring in heaven. iUiscclUrtrous. ' From the Philadelphia World of Fashion for March. The Drunkard's Wifa. AN OYVRE T K i " K T.U.E. The ''rev morning was already dawn i t it wueti a miserable wretch turnerl into ;. d.rtv a Wov. and entering a low. ruinous 'Mr. ro;v 1 throng!) a narrow entry, aiv paused at ih- entrance of a room within That degraded being had once been a wealthy man. resected by his neighbors surrounded bv friends. Hut alas! the so rial ;.!a- ha. I first lured liini to indul---?nco, an 1 then to inebritv, until he waa n. w a co.nnm.i drunkard. The nxi.se of his footstep1? had been hrar d wtiuu, for the croaking door was tiinidiy opened, and a jale emaciated boy, f.b.i:;; n'm vear 'd, stepped out on the landi!!'-, at:i asked in mingled anxictv and ', wot to the skin, curse it." said an 'why aint you abed and sleep. 0 1 T little fellow shrunk back at this o?.r5 salutation, but stid though shaking it'.i tVar, he did nut quit his station before 'What are vou standing there, gaping '.r?" said the w retcii, 'It s bad enough o hear a sick wife grumbling all dav wi' t 'naving vou kept up at night to Hi. in the morning, get to bed you 1;))0.do you hear? T!i little fellow did not answer fear '-em - 1 to have deprived him of speech but itili. holding on to the door-latch, wit! .an imploring look, he stood right in the v. av bv which his parent would have to " .; r the room. ' V.n't you g)ing to mind?' said the man ;. ; an oath, breaking into a furv, 'give t:u: lamp and goto bed, or I'll break rv ' one in vour body.'' father don't talk so loud,' said the !ow bursting into tears 'you'd - ,.i .'ier. she's been worse all day, isV.'t had any sleep till now,' and ::! man ma I-7' an eii'ort to snatch the 'andle. the boy, losing all personal fears ;n anxiety for his sick mother, stood firmly i: tiw the drunkard's path and said 'you mustn't, you mustn't go in.' 'What does the brat mean?' broke out th' inebriato angrily; 'this comes of leaving vou to wait on your mother till vou learn to be as obstinate as a mule will yon disobey me .? taks that, and that, you imp,' and raiding his hand he struck the little slcklv being to the tloor, kicked aside his body, and strode into the dilapidated room. It was truly a fitting place for the home of such a vagabond as he. The walls were low, covered with smoke, and seamed with a hundred crack?. The chimneypiece had once been white, but was now of a greasy ieuu luuh .n ,v- -v-,""b had lost most of the plaster, and the rain soaking through, dripped with a monotonous tick upon the floor. A few broken chairs, a cracked looking glass, and a three-legged table, on. which was a rimless cup. were in different parts of the room. Hut the m ?st striking spectacle was directly before the gambler. On a rickety bed lav the wife of his bosom, the once rich and beautiful Emily Langurre, who, through poverty, shame, and sickness, had still clung to the lover of her youth. Oh! woman, thy constancy the world cannot shake, nor shame nor misery subdue. Friend after friend had deserted that ruined man indignity after indignity had been heaped ujon him, and deservedly vcar bv year he had fallen lower and lower in thesink of infamy and yet still through every mishap, that sainted woman had clung to him, for he was the father ef her boy. and the husband of her youth. It was "a hard task for her to perform; but it was her duty, and when all tho world deserted him should she too leave him Sue had Lame much, but :dnV nature ceuM

endure no more. Health had lied from her cheeks, and her eyes were dim and sunken. She was in the last stage of consumption, but it was not that which w as killing her, she was dying of a broken heart. The noise made by her husband awoke her from her troubled sleep, and she half started up in bed, the hectic lire streaming along her cheek, and a wild, fitful light shooting iuto her sunken eves. There was a faint, shadowy smile lighting up her face, but it was as cold as moonlight upon snow. The sight might have moved a

felon's bosom, but what can penetrate the seared and hardened heart of drunken ness? The man besides was in a passion Hlast it, woman,' said tho wretch, as he reeled into the room 'is this the way you receive me after being out all dav in the rain to get something for your brat anc you? Come, don't go to w hining, 1 say;' but as his wife uttered a faint cry at his brutalitv, and fell back senseless on the bed, he seemed to awaken to a partia sense ot his condition, lie reeled a step or two forward, put his hand up to his fore head, stared wduly around, and then ga zing almost vacantly upon her, continued, 'but why what s the matter His poor wife lay like a corpse before him, but a low voice from the other side of the bed answered, and its tones nuivered as they spoke. Oh! mother's dead!' It was the voice of his son who had stolen in, and was now sobbing violently as he tried to raise her head in his little arms. He had been for weeks her onlv nurse, and had long since learned to act for himself. He bathed her temples, he chafed her limbs, he invo ked her wildly to awake. 'Dead!' said the man, and he was sober ed at once 'dead, dead,' he continued, in a tone of horror that chilled the blood, and advancing to the bedside, with eyes star ting from their sockets, he laid his hand upon her marble brow, then, oh, my God! I have murdered her! Emi'.y, Emily, you are not dead, say so, oh! speak and iorgive your repentant husband. v. kneel ing by the bedside, he chafed her white, thin hand, watering it with his hot tears as he sobbed her name. Their ctTbrts, at length, partially resto red her, and the first thing she saw upon reviving was her husband weeping bv her side, and calling her "Emily !" It was the first time he had clone so for years. It stirred old memories in her heart, and called ba"k tho ?hadowv visions of vtnrs ! past. She was back in their vouthful days, before ruin had blasted her once noble husband, and when all was joycus and bright as her own happy bosom. Woe, shame, poverty, desertion, even his brutal language was forgotten, and she only lought of him as the lover of her youth. ( h! that moment of delight! She faintly threw her arms around his neck, and sobbed there for very j v. 'Can you forgive me, Emily? I have been a brute, a villain oh! can you for give me: 1 nave sinned as never man sinned before, and against such an angel annihilate me for my a3 you Oh! God, gum. Charles!' said the dying woman in a tone so sweet oc low that it floated through the chamber like the whisper of a disemouied spirit I forgive vou, and mav God forgive you too but old do not emjitter this last moment by such an impious wish. The man only sobbed in reply, but his frame shook with the tempest of agony within him. 'Charles,' at last continued the dying woman, ! nave long wished lor tins mo ment, that I might say something to you about our little Henry.' God forgive me for my wrongs to him too! murmured the repentant man. 'I have much to say, and have but little time to say it in, I ieel that 1 shall never see another sun.' A violent fit of cough ing interrupted her. Oh! no, vou must not, will not die, sobbed her husband, ns he supported her sinking frame, you'll live to save vour repentant husband. Oh! you will!' The tears gushed into her eves, but she only shook her head. She laid her wan land on his and continued feebly. Night and day, for many a long year, lave 1 prayed for this hour, and never, even in the darkest moment, have I doubted it would come for I have felt that within me w hich whispered that as all had leserted you and I nad not, so in the end you would at last come back to your early feelings. Oh! would it had come sooner; t i i t some happiness men nngnt nave neon mine again in this world, but God's will lone b I am weak I feel I am failing last ttenrv. give me vour nana. The little boy silently placed it in hers, she kissed it, and then laving it within ler husband's continued, Here is our child our only born when I am gone he will have none to take care of him but you, and as God is above, as you love your own blood, and as you alue a promise to a dying wife, keep, love, cherish him. Oh! remember that he is young and tender it is the only thing for which I would care to live' die " paused and struggled to subdue her feelings, 'will you promise me, Charles?' 'I will, as there is n Maker over rue, 1 will,' sobbed the man and the frail bed r.gainst which he leaned shook with his emotion.

And you, Harry, will you obey your father, and be a good boy; as you "love your mother you will V 'Oh! yes!' sobbed the little fellow.flinging himself wildly on his mother's neck, 'but mother, dear mother, what shall I do without you ? oh! don't die! This is too hard, murmured the dying woman, drawing iier child feebly to her. 'Father give me strength toendure it!' For a few minutes all was still, and nothing broke the silence but the sobs of the father and the boy, and the low, deathlike tick of tho rain dripping through upon the floor. The child was the first to

move. He seemed instinctively to feel that giving way to his grief pained his mother, and gently disengaging himself from her, he hushed his sobs, and leaning on the bed, gazed anxiously into her face. Her eyes were closed, but her lips moved as if in prayer. 'Henry, where are you?' faintly asked the dying mother. Tho boy answered in his low, mournful voice. 'Henrv, Henry, 'she said in a louder tone and then after a second added, 'poor babe, he doesn't hear me,' The little ftdlnw looked up amazed. He knew not yet how the senses gradually fail the dying; he was perplexed; the tears coursed down his cheeks; and his throat choaked so that he could not speak Hut he placed his hand in his mother's and pressed it. Lcme nearer, my son nearer me candle wants snuffing there, lay your face down by mine Henry love, I can't see has the wind blown out the light?' Tho bewildered hov gazed wildly into his mother's face, but knew not what to say. He only pressed her hand again. 'Oh! God,' murmured the dying woman, her voice growing fainter and fainter 'this is death! Charles Henrv Jesus re ' The child felt a quick, electric shiver m the hand he clasped, and looking up, saw that his mother had fallen back dead upon the pillow. He knew it all at once. He gave one shriek and fell senseless across her body. That shriek aroused the drunkard. Starting up from his knees, he gazed wildly on the corpse. He could not endure the look of that still sainted face. He covered his face with his hands and burst into an agonv of tears. Long years have passed since then, and that man is once more a useful member "f society. Hut oh! tho tearful price at which his reformation was purchased. From the Religious Herald. SACRED MUSIC. It is, undoubtedly, the dutv of every Christian parent to have his children taught to sing. This should be commenced a soon as the child is six or eight years old. l oung children learn easily; but let them approach adult age, and ten to one if they ever learn. Parents, even Christian par ents, do not look upon this as a duty, or, if they do, it is such a duty as may be laid aside at any time, when it conflicts with their interests or inclination. Music yields to every thing else. Every study has its place before this. As we are in duty bound to praise our Maker, so are we bound to learn to praise; and the capacity is withheld from none. As God has made it our duty to praise him, so he has given us the ability. io one tias been lonored with the capacity to enjov alone, while others must administer to his pleasure. God has given to all the necessa ry organs and capacity, and made for all this element, the air, capable of being formed into the sweetest sounds, and into the sweetest combinations of sound at the same time, that all might have the power at all times to praise him. The proof that it is a moral duty to cultivate it, is found in the fact that it produ ces its legitimate eflects only where it is cultivated; and that where it is not, the singing of praise not unfrequently disturbs and even destroys devotional feeling. And the proof that it is thj duty of all to cultivate it, is found in the duty of all to praise him and to increase his praise by inspiring others with the same feeling. To produce this, God has given us music as tlie instrument; and, undoubtedly, it is equally our duty to use it. Many Christians urge the want of imc as an excuso for not learning to sing. We will not try to do away with an objection so gross. If to sing praises be a Christian duty, that excuse is never admissible. Every church and congregation should have a school in which their children and youth may be taught, and every parent should send in his children. It would cost only thiee or four dollars a year each, for the instruction; and by that small appropriation, a vastcapital of innocent and improving pleasure would be provided for every child, that would go with him thro' lile. Parents should remember that it is as much their duty to provide for the pleasures of their children, as for any other demand of their nature. Hut to understand music will not only be a blessing to them, but also to tho church. They will be less likely to wander from it, and also be a more efficient aid in it. Vho docs not see the need of improving both our social and sacred music? There is no other way to do it efficiently and permanently but to educate your children. It will be a blessing to the world. Mu

sic is one of the most efficient agents we can use to scatter good sentiment. The

reformation would have lingered vear? had it not been for the enthusiasm kindled by music. The music of the church demands it.Shall the music of the church still languish for the want of attention? for the smal stipend each one should pay, wdien every dollar expended for this, is better repaid than for any other science? and when you are not only repaid for the small stipend but convey a lasting benefit on your child, on the church, and on the world? (dins tinn! if you love the church of Christ, show it by doing for sacred music, the highest devotional act of tho church, as you do for the music of the world. Do not think that if you learn secular music that alone will do. The music of the church never flourished bv such means. She demands attention to herself, and de mands it of you, as a high and imperative duty. Search the Schriptures, and act by the light that shines from them. THE FIRST GLASS OF WINE. Young Gentlemen and La lies read it Mr. Hiram J. Thomas, in giving some account of his history and experience, re lated the following thrilling occurrence: "When I was about 18 years old, and a resident of W ayne county, Indiana, I became very intimate with twoyoungmen Thev were moral and respectable. We often met in the social circle. At 3 party one evening 1 saw a young lady and a lovely voung lady she was offer my young friend K a glass of wine. I saw him falter and hesitatate. for he was a total abstinence man, though he had never signed the pledge Upon her insisting upon his drinking, 1 saw him shrink back from her importunity; vet, as she contin- - ued to insist, he could not refuse, for she was his affianced bride. Two years after, she was the mother of an infant child, and the wife of a drunken husband. In the autumn of '38, he sought a refuge from those who had witnessed his degradation in tho wilds of Iowa. Only last March, my other friend was travelling in the territory, and he thought that he would inquire about our mutual friend Iv. What do you imagine were his feelings on being to'd the sad tale of the end ot Iv About a year and a half ago, a neighbor of K. called in une morning to see how the family were, and there within his death cold baud was the fatal knife, with which l.s had murdered his wife, his child, and himself. J here they lay prostrate upon the floor, weltering in their blood together All this was the result of drinking that first glass of wine, ot which he knew the danger, and to which he was invited by her whom he loved better than any being on earth. Hut that glass of wine cost the poor thoughtless, but then gay girl, her life, the life of her child, the life of her husband! From that single glass of wine, he went down to a drunkard's grave Living and Ornamental Fences. Mr. D. Cooper gave an account of a new living fence, formed by planting young trees in a slanting position, every tree leaning the opposite way, so that they will cross each other, and then at the parts which come in contact, take off from each a piece of bark and tie close together, covering the part with clay. This grafts each tree inlo his neighbor, and forms in a few years a living fence, with diamon l-shaped openings. i he plan is an excellent one for ornamental fences. Quite a Family. A hollow tree was lately felled in Hucks county, Pa., which measured seven feet in diameter, and con tained, as inhabitants, a swarm of bees, three grey squirrels, two large hooting owls, a nest of flying squirrels, and a large number of mice. Connubial Felicity. A stout, hearty vender of small wares, of genuine 'Jerry Sneak' aspect, made his way into the office, and after peeping cautiously about, as if to be sure some object of dread was not present, walked up to the magistrate, and in an alarmed whisper, said, I want to swear my life, your worship.' Magistrate A ga i n s t w h o m ? 7pj)licant (looking about carefully) Against against my (softly) wife. JMaaistrate What has she been doing? Applicant She's always a hiding me. There was only this morning she smacked my face because I put another lump of sugar in my tea when I thought she wasn't looking. Magistrate Well, you know you took her for better or for worse. Applicant Yes, but she's all worse." I'm so miserable that I'm sure I shall do something shocking. 1 think I could manage her if I could separate her from the gin bottle. Magistrate Lock it away from her. Applicant She's got all tho keys. Magistrate Don't let her have any money. Applicant She keeps all the cash. Magistrate Part from her. Applicant She won't let me. Then,' said tho magistrate, in a lone of perplexity, 'I don't know what to advise. There's only one course; run off to America, for that is the land of promise for every rogue, fool, and discontented person here. From London Jiff.

From the IS". Y. Herald. Highly Important from Mexico.

A gentleman just arrived at Washington, froinMexico, has furnishe following) tic!e. It may be tshed us the depended In these times of great excitement in favor of the American citizens, held in seryiir bondage by the Government of Mexico, and also for the Texian prisoners, I think a short and simple statement of the country and its condition, its revenue, and its wealth, will be of interest to the people of the United States; and as your paper is more extensively circulated and read, than any other, I give you the facts as they are. In the city of Mexico, and around it, are at this time confined as criminals (not as prisoners of war.) nearly 300 men, comprising the Texian expedition. Amongst them. -re some S or 10 who claim the protection of the United States Gov - element, anu that on the ground that they accompanied the expedition only as traders, they were not enrolled, nor did thev know or think that the expedition was any thing but a peaceful one. I hese Amerr can citizens are heavily chained with ; chain the size of an ox chain, or as is call ed in the United States a log chain. fliey are made daily to work in the city, cleaning out the dirty sewers and if they do not work well the lash is freely applied to their bare backs for they are nearly naked, as they only depend on the charity of a few Americans who are in Mexico for their clothing. In that condition are thev dailv led out not so much for the work they do as to degrade them in the eyes of the people. The I exians and Americans are all treated alike, amongst these is Mr. Ken dall, of New Orleans. They have given to them 25 cts. per dav to subsist on and it is about half enough to purchase them the necessaries of life and fear is entertained that they will evidently starve to death, as the ty rant Santa Anna dares not kill them. Phe papers of the day have given you a full statement of their treatment, from the moment thev were taken prisoners until their arrival at Mexico; that statement was written by Mr. Thomas Falkner, a subject of Great Pritam, a gentleman of the high est character and respectibility, who was liberated immediately bv Santa Anna, on his arrival at Mexico. The revenue of Mexico is only from four to six millions of dollars, although the duty on all and every thing is very high but the Collector of the Customs charge for the trouble of collecting. 1 ou will see running about the streets of Mexico, boys of from YZ to 18 years of age, who are officers high in command in the army, they get their commissions by the force and eloquence of gold. Ev ery thing is purchased with it here, and this is the patriot who shrinks with horror at the thought of being bribed. If there ever lived a tyrant, that man is Santa Anna: if there ever lived a man who nev er had one principle of honor, virtue, or any principle that could be considered a redeeming one, as a man or gentleman, that man is tha reptile who is supreme dictator, and virtually a king Santa Anna. He acknowledges no power by his armv no law but his will. lie makes or breaks all laws at his pleasure: and under this tyjantare fhe American arid Tex ian prisoners. Doomed to drag out, God only knows how long, a miserable existence. The soil and climate of Mexico are- of every variety; the low tropical valleys which produce everv fruit and flower that ever grew under the Heavens; the sugarcane spontaneously grows from year to year, producing almost June syrup from its juice. 1 he table lands are superior in soil and productions to the lands in the United Stales when cultivated; the plain? are covered with immense herds of cattle and sheep; the mountains arecovered with goats and fine timber; Mid their bowels are filled with silver, gold, quicksilver, cop per, iron and all sorts of minerals. Coal , r 1 . . . i. is also IOUliU in some pans uiern are thousands of streams of water running from the mountains, surrounding the people with healthy water for drink and wa ters their rich plains of wheat and grain during the dry season. The largest and fairest estates all over the country is said to belong to the church, as does in fact a very large portion of all the fine improved property in the whole republic It is estimated by the most sensible peasons in the country, that the value of the property belonging to the church, is between eight hundred and a thousand millions of dollars. If the country was peopled by any other race than those now occupying it, it would be the most productive and richest of the world. It has greater natural re sources, and more of them than any other spot of earth. The immense quantities of silver and gold in the churches are sufficient to impoverish the balance of the earth, and to make the Henwn drops scarce. Oh, that we had some of it here in these hard limes, for the loan bill to be founded on ! How easy it would be to barrow money then ! The silver mines, or at least the. largest ones are worked mostly on English account. Real Del Monte, the celcbrat. d mine of Mexico, and waa once Cue rishest nin" in the world, pnd the ininn thev sav

Sir Francis Daring wa3 once engaged in, is now being worked to profitable advantage. The amount of silver made thence is from eighty to one hundred thousand

U dollars per month. They have gone to an iiiiiikenso expense in putting up live or six immense large engines, and I am informed the compiny are four or five million in debt. They have not made anything for some years, until very lately, they have opened a new shaft and find the vein very rich indeed. The mine belongs to the estate of an old Spanish Don, called the Conde Pegla. As foreigners are not allowed to hold real estate, it is leased at a very small sum for a great number of years. The mine is 500 feel deep. Tho smelting establishment or farm, or as the Spaniards call it, the facienda, is one of the verv lichest and finest in Mexico. There are. a great number of small ! -ine-- a!l around, i.i the vicinity of Rio del Monte, which are worked bv the old Mexicans and Indians, and the silver is melted out in the old Indian fashion, it is a very simple operation, and it is enormous the quantity of silver that is made by these small mines. These mines a;e worked by horse power, and as soon as they get too deep to be r-orked to advantage, they are abandoned, and a new shaft sunk. The veins gen"ra!ly run north and south, but there are sometimes veins running east and west, and whr-n a vein is once struck, they can take the direction, and go olT some miles and open a new shaft with the rno-t parfect certainty of finding the same vein. The miners are paid much better than any other laborers of the country. Thev are paid 50 cents per day. and one tenth of the mineral they raise, which they sell. They arc a poor set of miserable beings, (ihe miners,) arid go down in the mines and remain ihere live or six days without ever coming up, they then como up and do not go down again until all their money and material is gone, they then are ready to go under ground again. TIih country is so rie.h in every thing that it would take a year to enumerate its vast resources, and did the Anglo Saxon race only have sufficient hold upon it to make an impression on its works, it would cause the whole world to wondjr at its wealth. j. ou ought to go d 'wii there and look at it the wonn-n of the country are much. vitv much superior t the men i:i every resp -ct they are as fir.-" forme'' women as arc in the world, an 1 have a particular fondness f--r having foreign hus bands, but to marry l!iem you m.itt adopt their religion and uisionis. I can't write you an more for the pre sent, for if I should tell you of all its rich es and superior rid vantages I fesr time would be too many want to go there and see for themselves and th'-se h-ud times even to mention gold and makes tears come to our eyes. siivi r Back of IllinoisSeveral of the 1 lirrctors of this Insti tution are now in this ntv, and will bo (we are informed) prepared, in a dav or t'.vo to satisfy ihr. community to the course which will he adopted by the Pauk. One thing mav be set down as certain. Tho Uatik of Illinois will resume sn-'cio payments simu'taneously with the Panic of Kentucky (say loth June.) if ?tot be fore. Whenever the dav is fixed, at that time public opinion will settle down into confidence, and there must follow a gradual reduction in Exchange and Specie. Kentucky, Indiana and Cincinnati fund will also, of course, flow in upon us, as thev will be no better than Shawneetown Bill's. We are authorised to say hat the rntire eirculalionoC the Siiawnc,-town Pank is less than one million of d !' rs and of this amount, we may safely inf r, that at least $300,000 a're held in this city, and must be held to meet the many business purposes of our merchants; thus reducing the actual amount to which the Pank will, in all likelihood, be liable to 700,000 all of which is distributed throughout a vast extent of country, and cannot be collected without a degree of exertion not likely to be used. -S7. Louis Xew Era. "9f" Grand Temperance Festival. A great Temperance Festival was held in this city on Tuesday last. A cold water army, about two miles in extent, marched thro' the principal streets on Tuesday last, and listened to some excellent discourses in the Washington Parado Grocnd. The cause of Temperance is progressing throughout the whole Anglo Saxon world. Between five and six millions of individuals have signed to Father Mathew alone, in Ireland. Father Mathew is the great apostle of Temperance; he has all tho zeal of a Peter, the Hermit, in the cause. X. V. Atlas. Snakes. The editor ef the Concordia Intolligencer states, thr-t he had lately destroyed '.uorcrds of t-nakes before bre-'di-foM, and it was net a very snaky morning ehher. lie shook half a dozen grrter snakes fiom his bo Ms. H' picked up a long low black sch or. nor of a fellow, who was taking a quiet rncoze inside of bin cravat, ami founu r cpj iu h;i L-.-t, hca l curled :m