Chapter 5

As plump as a partridge I grew, My heart being lighter than cork; My slumbers were calmer than dew, My body was fatter than pork.

Thus happy, I hop'd I should pass Slick as grease down the current of time; But pleasures are brittle as glass, Although as a fiddle they're fine.

Jemima, the pride of the vale, Like a top nimbly danc'd o'er the plains; With envy the lasses were pale, With wonder stood gazing the swains.

She smil'd like a basket of chips, As tall as a may-pole her size-- As sweet as molasses her lips-- As bright as a button her eyes.

Admiring, I gaz'd on her charm, My peace that would trouble so soon, And thought not of danger nor harm, Any more than the man in the moon.

But now to my sorrow I find Her heart is as hard as a brick, To my passion forever unkind, Though of love I am full as a tick.

I sought her affection to win, In hope of obtaining relief; Till I like a hatchet grew thin, And she, like a haddock, grew deaf.

I late was as fat as a doe, And playful and spry as a cat; But now I am as dull as a hoe, And as lean and as weak as a rat.

Unless the unpitying fates With passion as ardent will cram her, As certain as death or as rates, I soon shall be dead as a hammer.

_Salem Gazette,_ April 5, 1811.

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Gentlemen and children have sometimes been considered bugbears.

Boarders Wanted.

TWO or Three Ladies can be accommodated with Board, on reasonable terms, in a small family, 18 miles from town, where there are neither Gentlemen or Children; a Stage passes the house twice a week, and the Middlesex Canal Boat near it every other day. Inquire at the Centinel Counting Room.

_Columbian Centinel,_ July 25, 1812.

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_LIBERAL DONATIONS_

Of the Legislature of _New-York_ to the University of that State: 1,500l. for the Library; 200l. for chemical apparatus; 1,200l. for a wall round the College; 5,000l. for erecting a Hall, and additional wing to the College; 750l. for five years annually, for the salaries of additional Professors.--_Blush! Citizens of Massachusetts, for your Legislators--who have so frequently denied relief to your University!!!_

_Columbian Centinel,_ May 5, 1792.

The books children read in 1789.

A great Variety of

=Children's Books=

Neatly printed, and adorned with elegant Cuts, are sold by _T.C. CUSHING_, at the Printing-Office in Salem--viz.

LITTLE ROBIN RED-BREAST. Memoirs of a PEGTOP. The SUGAR-PLUMB; or, sweet Amusement for leisure hours. The JUVENILE BIOGRAPHER, containing the Lives of little Masters and Misses. Be MERRY and WISE; or, the Cream of the Jests, and the Marrow of Maxims, for the Conduct of Life. The HOLY BIBLE abridged. History of little KING PIPPIN. History of GILES GINGERBREAD. History of TOM JONES. History of Master JACKEY and Miss HARRIOT. History of CHARLES CAREFUL and HARRY HEEDLESS. Mother GOOSE's Melody. The Exhibition of TOM THUMB. Tom Thumb's SONG BOOK. The FATHER's Gift. The MOTHER's Gift. The BROTHER's Gift. The SISTER's Gift. Nurse Truelove's NEW-YEAR's GIFT. Death and Burial of COCK-ROBIN. The ROYAL ALPHABET. The HERMIT of the Forest, and the Wandering Infants.

_Salem Mercury._

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A new way to cure insanity.

_A CURIOUS IDEA._

KNOWLEDGE is attained with the greatest difficulty; we have it not by intuition, but acquire it by many unsuccessful trials and long experience. One gives a hint, and the other improves it; but prejudice and ignorance too often stand in the way: "_That cannot be,_" or "_I cannot believe that,_" has crushed many an useful project. How incredible did the recovery of drowned persons appear at first! When the report reached England, that many abroad had been brought again to life, after laying under water some time, who gave it credit? But experience has since convinced us of its possibility.

Now, from the great success attending the recovery of drowned persons, I would offer a hint to the public, and leave it to be improved by them, respecting the recovery of those who are mad, and given up as incurable.

When madness breaks forth, the first care of the physician is to reduce and keep his patient low, in order to check the velocity and whirl of his thoughts; and if possible to procure sleep, by quieting the internal turbulency. If all his skill and efforts fail, such a person is as much lost to society as if he were dead. Now if such an one were plunged into water, and there kept until he was apparently dead, and was then recovered by the usual methods (and of which recovery we have now a moral certainty) I am apt to believe we should behold a perfect cure. There is, I own, something shocking to nature in the experiment; but if the patient be already lost, and dead to society, why should we hesitate a moment to make the trial, when the probability of succeeding is so flattering?

_Salem Gazette,_ July 12, 1791.

It would be interesting to see the punch-bowl out of which the members of Congress drank in 1811, on the day succeeding the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Pearson.

At Washington, Hon. JOSEPH PEARSON, Esq. (Federal Representative from N. Carolina), to Miss ELEANOR BRENT, daughter of Robt. Brent, Esq., Mayor of the city.-- --> _The greater part of the members, the next day, left the business of the nation to attend the punch drinking, so that the House adj'd at an early hour_. Dec. 13, 1811.

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As the following lines have the indorsement of a Hartford paper, we venture to reproduce them:--

From the New-York Daily Advertiser, May 10.

DESCRIPTION OF CONNECTICUT.

HERE fond remembrance stampt her much lov'd names, Here boasts the soil its _London_ and its _Thames_; Throughout her shores commodious ports abound, Clear flow the waters of the varying ground; Cold nipping winds a lengthen'd winter bring, Late rise the products of the tardy spring. The broken soil a labouring race requires; Each barren hill its generous crops admires, Where nature meanly did her gifts impart, Yet, smiling, owns how much she owes to art.

But keen as winds that guide the wintry reign, All bow to lucre, all are bent on gain; As chance decreed, their various lots are thrown; Its house each acre, every mile its town; With gilded spire the frequent church is seen, Sacred to him that taught them to be keen; Eternal squabblings grease the lawyer's paw, All have their suits, and all have studied law; With tongue that art and nature taught to speak, Some rave in Latin, some dispute in Greek; Proud of their books, in ancient lore they shine, And one month's study makes a learn'd divine; Fond to converse, with deep designing views, They pump the travelling stranger of his news; Fond of his wit, but fonder to be paid, Each house a tavern, claims a tavern's trade; While he that comes, as surely hears them praise The hospitality of modern days.

Yet brave in arms, of enterprising soul, They tempt old Neptune to the farthest pole; In learning's walks explore the mazy way (For genius here has shed his golden ray); In war's bold arts thro' various contests try'd, True to themselves, they took their country's side, And, party feuds dismiss'd, join to agree That scepter only just that left them free.

_Connecticut Courant,_ July 14, 1790.

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Errors of the press.

The following paragraphs will shew how completely the sense is altered by the omission of a single letter of the word in Italics.

"The conflict was dreadful, and the enemy was repulsed with considerable _laughter_."

"Robert Jones was yesterday brought before the sitting Magistrate, on a charge of having spoken _reason_ at the Barleymow public-house."

"In consequence of the numerous accidents occasioned by skaiting on the Serpentine River, measures are taking to put a _top_ to it."

"When Miss Leserve, late of Covent Garden Theatre, visited the 'Hecla,' she was politely drawn up the ship's side by means of a _hair_."

"At the Guildhall dinner, none of the poultry was eatable except the _owls_."

"A gentleman was yesterday brought up to answer a charge of having _eaten_ a hackney-coachman for having demanded more than his fare; and another was accused of having stolen a small _ox_ out of the Bath mail; the stolen property was found in his waistcoat pocket."

_Salem Register,_ 1827.

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_A CURIOSITY._

"We have often heard of the Lord's Prayer being written in the compass of a shilling, but have lately seen a piece of paper of that dimension, which contains, in manuscript, the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, the Ten Commandments, Psalms 117, 120, 127, 131, 132, 134, and 150; 9th chapter of Proverbs, Prayer of St. Chrysostom, two Collects, Prayer for the Royal Family, Nobility, Clergy, &c., &c., the Blessing, and Junior, 1702, the name of the writer. This curiosity is in the possession of Mr. John Reeder, of Brighton, who being an auctioneer at a sale where it was lately sold, purchased it on very easy terms. It is not legible without a good glass."

_Columbian Centinel,_ June 5, 1790. _Eng. pap._

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In an old Salem paper we find the following:

--> We understand the number of deaths in this town the past year was 234, of which 15 died abroad.

This reminds us of the curious jumble made in the first edition of Morse's "American Gazetteer," published in Boston in 1797. In the description of Albany, N.Y., it says: "This city and suburbs, by enumeration in 1797, contained 1,263 buildings, of which 863 were dwelling-houses and 6,021 inhabitants. Many of them are in the Gothic style with the gable end to the street, which custom the first settlers brought from Holland."

* * * * *

The earliest American writer of whom we have any information was Peter Bulkley, who was born in England in 1583 and died in 1659 in Massachusetts, and wrote Latin Poetry and Sermons. The earliest poetic volume written in this country was by Anne Bradstreet, of Boston, born 1612, died 1672.

_Salem Observer,_ 1834.

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The author of these lines must have been one of the old school.

[_The following was paid for as an Advertisement._]

The folloing lines were Presented to A lat skull mistres in this town by 4 of her skolers the morning after her mareg

MAY all Joiy and happiness Vait To attend your nuptal stat you our instructer and the Guid of our early youth beside as you Quit the plas wich you fild with euery Gras. Our Grateful Thanks are sure your due. Except them thearfor from us fue. Whos shur to you that pras is due. Must euery sorro euery Cear be yourn Forbid it Heauin and let it turn to peas and Joiys next to diuin Rise Glorious euery futer Sun and Bless your days with Joiys as this has dun let sorrows sese and Joiys tak plas to briten euery futer day with equil Gras and wen your cald from hence above may you inioy your souors Loue wee ever shall regrat our los and yet with you wee all reioyss

_Essex Gazette,_ May 14, 1771.

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Boston school-books in 1790.

The School Committee in Boston have ordered that the following Books be used in the Reading Schools of that town, viz.

The HOLY BIBLE; WEBSTER's SPELLING-BOOK; The Young Ladies' ACCIDENCE; Webster's American SELECTION of Lessons in Reading and Speaking; The CHILDREN'S FRIEND; MORSE's GEOGRAPHY abridged; and The NEWSPAPERS, occasionally.

_Salem Gazette._

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ANECDOTE.

WHEN Oliver Cromwell first coined his money, an old cavalier looking upon one of the new pieces, read this inscription on one side, _God with us_; on the other side, _The Commonwealth of England_. I see, said he, _God and the Commonwealth are on different sides._

_Salem Mercury,_ June 26, 1787.

Two different ways of telling a story.

_Anecdote_. A CLERGYMAN, who in the Matrimonial Lottery had drawn much worse than a _blank_, and, without the patience of Socrates, had to encounter the turbulent spirit of Xantippe, was interrupted in the middle of a _Curtain Lecture_, by the arrival of a pair, requesting his assistance to introduce them to the _blessed_ state of Wedlock. The poor Priest, actuated at the moment by his own feelings and particular _experience_, rather than a sense of canonical duty, opened the book, and began: "_Man, that is born of a Woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of trouble, &c., &c.,_" repeating the _burial_ service. The astonished Bridegroom exclaimed, "Sir! Sir! you mistake, I came here to be _married_, not _buried_!" "Well (replied the Clergyman), if you insist on it, I am _obliged_ to marry you--but believe me, my friend, you had _better_ be _buried_."

_Columbian Centinel,_ March 12, 1791.

* * * * *

ANECDOTE. It is doubtless recollected that Dean Swift, though a great favorite among the ladies, was (no doubt for good and substantial reasons) nevertheless a bachelor. His opinion of the married state seemed to be not very much exalted. On one occasion, he had been called upon to marry a couple, and after getting them properly arranged, commenced as follows: "Man, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery," &c. "My dear sir," interrupted the bridegroom, "you are reading the burial service, instead of the matrimonial." "Never mind, friend," whispered the Dean, "_you had better be buried than married_."

_Salem Observer,_ 1834.

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AN OPPOSITION.

Dryden and Otway lived opposite to each other in Queen-street. Otway coming one night from the tavern, chalked upon Dryden's door, _Here lives John Dryden, he is a wit_. Dryden knew his hand writing, and next day chalked on Otway's door, _Here lives Tom Otway, he is oppo-site._

_Essex Register,_ 1802.

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Specimens of old time newspaper poetry.

To a LADY who admired dancing.

_MAY I presume in humble lays, My dancing fair, thy steps to praise? While this grand maxim I advance, That all the world is but a dance, That human-kind, both man and woman, Do_ dance _is evident and common. David himself, that God-like king, We know could_ dance, _as well as_ sing. _Folks who at court would keep their ground, Must dance the year attendance round. All nature is one_ ball, _we find: The water dances to the wind; The sea itself at night and noon Rises and capers to the moon; The moon around the earth does tread A Cheshire round in buxom red; The earth and planets round the sun_ Dance, _nor will their_ dance _be done 'Till nature in one mass is blended; Then we may say the_ ball _is ended._

_Salem Mercury,_ July 29, 1788.

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THE FOUNT.

--> THE following--from the pen of a fair correspondent--cannot be read without PLEASURE and IMPROVEMENT.

* * * * *

_LINES FOR A SCREEN._

TO BE WRITTEN BENEATH THE FIGURE OF "MINERVA HOLDING A CROWN OF OLIVE."

Ah! lovely Ladies--while with care Ye guard from harm your FACES fair; While spreads the airy PARASOL To shield you from the beams of SOL; And many a FAN and VEIL and BLIND Protect from each intrusive wind:-- And whilst ye deign to intervene Twixt you and fire, the humble SCREEN!-- Oh! strive alike to guard your _hearts_ From VICE, and all her wily arts. Your parasol let VIRTUE prove, To ward th' attacks of _lawless_ love-- Prudence will prove a _screen_ to thee, And let thy VEIL be MODESTY. Attend my words, ye Fair, for know, This _Crown_ shall grace the worthiest brow.

ORA. _Columbian Centinel,_ July 27, 1814.

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_From the_ GAZETTE _of the_ U. STATES.

IMPROMPTU.

_On seeing a young Lady darning Stockings._

ALONG the stocking's foot, with ease and grace Your fingers, lovely Mira, when you move, On them with eye admiring I will gaze, And drink deep draughts of all resistless love.

Assume thy gloves, my most enchanting fair, When next your stockings you begin to mend, For though full white the hose, they yet appear As saffron yellow, near thy lily hand.

As constant as your all obedient thread Does thy bright needle's devious path pursue, So does each thought of my poor brainless head For ever dwell, divinest nymph, on you.

Oft as thy needles pierce the yielding hose, So oft thy beauties pierce my yielding breast: Oh then compassionate my deep felt woes, And bid awhile the polish'd needle rest.

Or if one idle minute you disdain, On me be exercis'd your mending art, Yes, lovely maid, to ease of my pain, Come, darn the hole that rankles in my heart.

_Salem Gazette,_ August 26, 1800.

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THE WHITE CLOVER.

BY A LADY OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

THERE is a little perfum'd flower, It well might grace the lovliest bower, Yet poet never deign'd to sing Of such a humble, rustic thing. Nor is it strange, for it can show Scarcely one tint of Iris' bow: Nature, perchance, in careless hour, With pencil dry, might paint the flower; Yet instant blush'd, her fault to see, So gave a double fragrancy; Rich recompence for aught denied! Who would not homely garb abide, If gentlest soul were breathing there, Blessings through all its little sphere? Sweet flower! the lesson thou hast taught, Shall check each proud, ambitious thought, Teach me internal worth to prize, Though found in lowliest, rudest guise.

_Salem Gazette,_ June 27, 1815.

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_CASTALIAN FOUNT._

AMERICAN POETRY.

A FRAGMENT.

_The following beautiful lines were written on the death of a young lady in Pennsylvania, whose dissolution was occasioned by her mistaking a poisonous mineral for the flower of sulphur, and swallowing a spoonfull:_

THUS, o'er the tomb of what she held most dear, The weeping muse no common sorrow pours; No common anguish prompts the falling tear-- No common virtues those she now deplores.

Dear hapless girl, was there no saving power? Where was your guardian angel--where your friend? Could nought prevent the fatal destin'd hour? Nor pitying Heaven would hear or succour lend.

Then, if nor Heaven _would_ hear--nor friends _could_ save, Be still, my heart, nor breathe another sigh; Drop the last tear upon her early grave, And let it teach you--that _the best must die_.

--> _A few original favours from our poetick friends would be very acceptable._

_Massachusetts Centinel,_ March 28, 1789.

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_From the New York Daily Advertiser._

_The Sailor Boy._

Dark flew the scud along the wave, And echoing thunders rend the sky; All hands aloft! to meet the storm, At midnight was the boatswain's cry.

On deck flew every gallant tar, But one--bereft of ev'ry joy; Within a hammock's narrow bound, Lay stretch'd this hapless SAILOR BOY.

Once, when the Boatswain pip'd all hands, The first was he, of all the crew, On deck to spring--to trim the sail-- To steer--to reef--to furl or clue.

Now fell disease had seiz'd a form Which nature cast in finest mould; The midwatch bell now smote his heart, His last, his dying knell it toll'd.

"O God!" he cried, and gasp'd for breath, "Ere yet my soul shall cleave the skies, "Are there no parents--brethren--near, "To close, in death, my weary eyes?

"All hands aloft to brave the storm, "I hear the wintry tempest roar;" He rais'd his head to view the scene, And backward fell, to rise no more.

The morning sun in splendour rose. The gale was hush'd and still'd the wave; The Sea-boy, far from all his friends, Was plung'd into a wat'ry grave.

But He, who guards the Sea-boy's head, He, who can save or can destroy, Snatch'd up to Heav'n the purest soul That e'er adorn'd a SAILOR BOY.

_Salem Gazette,_ Oct. 29, 1805.

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EARLY RISING.

WIVES, _awake! unveil your eyes; Sluggards, no more yawning; See the Delphick god arise, Bright Apollo dawning._

_Husbands, rouse at love's alarms, Drowsy slumbers scorning; Rovers, quit your favourite charms, Up! behold, 'tis morning._

_Virgins fair, have at your hearts; Hymen's torch is flaming; Cupid whets his pointed darts, And look! the rogue is aiming._

_Fair the bud of beauty blows, Mellow sweets are palling; Crown us with the virgin rose, And so prevent its falling._

_See the charms that nature yields;_ Why _sleep away your duty? Arise! the fragrance of the fields Is friendly to your beauty._

_Lads, for shame! abed till now! Forsake them, and be wiser; There's health and pleasure, you'll allow, In being an early riser._

_Bound with ivy, bound with vines, Youth serenely passes; Bacchus round our temples twines, And sparkles in our glasses._

_No longer drown the mind in sleep; But breathe the vernal air! Our hours may thus improvement reap, And who has any t' spare_?

_Salem Mercury,_ May 17, 1788.

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_From the New Monthly Magazine._

=On seeing a Tomb adorned with Angels weeping.=

Though sculptors, with mistaken art, Place weeping Angels round the tomb; Yet, when the good and great depart, These shout to bear their conquerors home.

Glad they survey their labours o'er, And hail them to their native skies; Attend their passage to the shore, And with their mounting spirits rise.

Britain may mourn her Patriot dead, And pour her sorrows o'er his dust: But streaming eyes, and drooping head, Ill suit those guardians of the just.

Parents may shed a tender tear, And friends indulge a parting groan; If these in mimic form appear, Such pious grief becomes the stone.

But if the wounded marble bear Celestial forms to grace the urn, Let triumph in their eyes appear, Nor dare to make an angel mourn.

_Salem Register,_ 1819.

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Varieties.