Part 1

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THE RURAL MAGAZINE, AND LITERARY EVENING FIRE-SIDE.

VOL. I. PHILADELPHIA, _Twelfth Month, 1820_. _No. 12._

FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.

THE DESULTORY REMARKER.

No. XI.

Man is a being, holding large discourse, Looking before and after.

In my last number I availed myself of the occasion, to dwell with some emphasis, on the necessity and advantage of retrospection. The past is rife with lessons of experience, fitted to serve as waymarks and beacons, for the government of human conduct in the subsequent course. Obvious as this may appear, it is nevertheless lamentably true, as the venerable JOHN ADAMS has somewhere observed, that our attention is too frequently monopolized in the pursuit of present enjoyment, and that each succeeding generation is not satisfied, until it "_has made experience for itself_." It is, however, gratifying to believe, that many are not so unmindful of their real interests, and so destitute of true wisdom; but are on proper occasions employed, in "looking before and after." To these no apology will be necessary, for recommending a preparation for those duties, which appertain to the severe and dreary season, upon which we are now entering. A season, above all others calculated, to illustrate the generous and benevolent principles of our nature; and which calls most loudly and authoritatively for their exercise. When indigence is gifted with peculiar eloquence, which the powers of a BURKE or an AMES, could scarcely _heighten_. We are fortunately so constituted, that the sight of distress is amply sufficient to awaken our sympathy, without requiring by a conclusive moral deduction, the establishment of the fact, that it is our duty to sympathize with the objects of it. Ere long a wide field will present itself for mitigating the sufferings and relieving the wants of

THE POOR.

The most efficacious _preventive_, of the evils attendant on poverty, is the general and extensive application of mental and moral discipline to the rising generation. This is the only radical remedy for the disease; a truth, which should never be lost sight of, by forecasting statesmen and enlightened philanthropists. But the urgency and immediate pressure of want, requires prompt relief, not to be derived from this source. The array of indigence will be unusually great during the approaching winter, for even honest industry is frequently disappointed in its search after employment. Among the objects of public beneficence there will generally be found a considerable number of this description, whose condition is the result of misfortune alone; while the calamities of others, are the consequences of vice and improvidence. But it should always be remembered, that wretchedness and misery from whatever cause they may proceed, are entitled to commiseration; and that genuine charity imitates though at infinite distance, the example of our beneficent Creator, who "maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust."

The most salutary mode of extending relief, is unquestionably that of employment. Idleness is uniformly prejudicial to sound morals, and intrinsically mischievous in its character. When alms are distributed it is moreover, far preferable to furnish the necessaries of life, rather than money, which is too often misapplied. As this is to many, the season of plenty and good cheer, particularly in the country, the situation of the necessitous is from this circumstance, entitled to primary consideration. I well remember, when a boy and residing in a neighbouring county, being despatched to some of the poor in the vicinity, with a part of the superabundance of the season; and their grateful and affectionate benedictions on the head of their revered benefactor, will never be forgotten. I may perhaps be indulged in adding, that I rejoice in believing, that he is now in that city "which hath foundations;" not one of whose inhabitants can say "I am sick." The example of such men is cheering and of signal advantage to society. "The memory of the just is blessed."

I am well aware, that to dwell at length on the subject here recommended, would, as it respects some of the patrons of the Rural Magazine be an act of supererogation. To such as these, all that is necessary to stimulate to a performance of their duties to their unfortunate fellow creatures, is to be made acquainted with their situation. The extension of the necessary assistance, is however, in many instances, a task of peculiar delicacy. Reference is here made to those who have seen happier days, and whose feelings, will not permit them publicly to solicit relief. In this class will generally be found, the least obtrusive but most deserving individuals; those who have undoubted claims on the generous and humane.

As this is probably the last opportunity, I shall have of holding communion, with my readers, it would be a source of real satisfaction, should ever a solitary hint of a profitable tendency, be derived from this valedictory paper. If the pressure of grief and privation, in a single instance be obviated, the reward would indeed be ample. Duties of the most imperative and important character, are constantly claiming our serious and assiduous attention. I cannot therefore, with more propriety, terminate my humble, desultory labours, than by sincerely and fervently desiring, that when the winter of old age and the evening of life shall arrive, we may enjoy the delightful consciousness of having faithfully performed our respective obligations, and particularly those which we owe to THE POOR. ☞

FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.

THE VILLAGE TEACHER.

The winter season of desolation as it is, has charms and attractions of its own. There is something exquisitely mournful in the whistling of its winds through the leafless branches of the forest, and around the lonely walls of a country dwelling. The absence of all gaudy decoration and its mute and desert loneliness give to the landscape a sublimity which is in perfect keeping with these deeper and harsher tones of the lyre of Æolus. The mind that has been at all trained in the school of nature, and has drank of true philosophy at its source amid fields and groves and mountains, can catch the glow of inspiration even from these stern and rugged features. It can discern in every aspect of external nature a feeling and an attribute, touching and peculiar, and can trace out in them those moral truths, of which it would seem that the forms of the physical creation, are but the types and the shadows. It is not merely that the remembrance of the enjoyments and hopes which have faded, and of the friends that are no more, subdue and chasten the soul; but the naked majesty, and austere colouring of the landscape find an answer in the mind. We view life divested of its gaudy trappings, and feel the cold reality of what had mocked us at a distance with the semblance of felicity. At the same time the hopes which endure, and the happiness which we know by experience to be solid, gain value in our estimation, as we are thus lifted above a dependence upon transitory and perishing enjoyments.

I had by this train of thought, wrought up my mind to a comfortably good opinion of my own fortitude, during a long ramble to-day, and was seated by my solitary fire this evening, meditating on the subject I had chosen for my next essay, and heaping Pelion upon Ossa in my dreams of future eminence; when a letter from the Editors was brought in, announcing that the next number of the Magazine was to be the last.

The angels in Milton's Pandemonium did not more suddenly contract into pigmies than did my fancied self-importance at this sad intelligence. From the port and aspect of one of the enlighteners of mankind, I shrunk at once into an obscure village schoolmaster unknown beyond the next township, and unnoticed save by a few of my humble patrons,

"Husbanding that which I possess within And going to the grave unthought of."

I looked round in my despair upon the naked walls, and they seemed to stare at me, as even they had never heard of me. An impertinent cricket in the wainscot was the only audible being near me and he kept on with his idle song, as if in derision. The feeling of disappointment for a time overpowered my philosophy, and I did not see my gorgeous hopes vanish into air without a bitter feeling of regret. To be thus cut off in the very bud of expectancy of authorship--to have that genial current of thought and feeling which was but beginning to flow turned back to its source, are misfortunes which none but an author can estimate, and which send us back to the dull routine of life with altered feelings.

Why should I not please myself with the imagination of what I might have achieved? It is true that of the many into whose hands these numbers have fallen, the greater part may have passed over my essays unnoticed.

An inharmonious period--an uninteresting sentiment may have caught their attention, and they have turned away with indifference. Of those who have perused them, many have done it in a spirit of captious criticism, some with forced and struggling attention, and a few perhaps with real kindness and interest. Yet all this ill will and kindness and indifference has been lost upon me, and disturb not the dreams of vanity. The stillness of my retreat has not been broken by a sound of murmur or approbation, nor do I know that I have lightened for a moment the brow of sorrow, or attracted for a still shorter period, the attention of the busy, or the idle:--happy if from this failure also, I shall learn another lesson of humility and shrink without repining into my own proper dimensions.

I have not entered my first and fortieth year without being armed against such disappointments, nor will I part from them with whom I have thus sojourned in ill will or moroseness. What, though I may have overrated my own powers of entertainment, I have only proclaimed that which is the open or secret vanity of all. What though my readers have gone unsatisfied away from the table which I had spread for them?--the fruits of wisdom though harsh and austere in their taste, have not lost their savour with _me_; they still hang upon the tree of nature, and I can yet gather them for my own sustenance, though it be in solitude and obscurity. Minds, to whose gigantic proportions I feel myself a pigmy have exhausted their skill in portraying the beauty of virtue, and the world still lingers in corruption and defilement. My own efforts would have been more important, and I begin to think that I should have wasted my strength in idle display; if indeed I had not met with rueful discomfiture.

Reader! if in thy journeyings through the heart of Pennsylvania thou shouldst pass the quiet hamlet of Plainfield--if the recollection of these essays still linger in thy heart and thou shouldst seek a further acquaintance with their author--stop, and inquire at my landlord's for

THE VILLAGE TEACHER.

EXCURSION FROM EDINBURGH TO DUBLIN.

BY AN AMERICAN.

_Glasgow, Friday, April 11, 1817._

At the hour of dinner we went to 'North wood-side,' a delightful country residence about two miles from Glasgow, the property of an opulent merchant. It is situated upon the Kelvin, a tributary stream of the Clyde, and together with its grounds, exhibits striking evidences of the elegant but costly taste of its proprietor. The gentleman has been in America, and was not a little attached to its form of government,--a partiality which naturally extended itself to the individuals concerned in its administration; and, accordingly we were gratified with beholding the portraits of several of our most distinguished countrymen adorning the walls of his apartments. The afternoon passed highly to our satisfaction; and we would gladly have accepted an invitation, which was given with a sincerity which could not be mistaken, to protract our visit beyond the day, but for engagements which required our return to Glasgow. After coffee we left North Wood-side, and reached the city in season to sup at the Rev. Dr. Chalmers'.

It had been my good fortune to meet and become partially acquainted with this extraordinary man in Edinburgh. He has politely invited me to visit him in Glasgow, and this morning I called at his house, and passed half an hour with him. I found him then much engaged in completing some preparations for a journey to London which he is to commence on Monday. He desired my company at supper in the evening, and extended the invitation to my companion. We found a few friends at his house, among whom were several ladies. Mrs. C. possesses a pleasing person, and engaging manners, and performed the honours of the table with great propriety. Dr. C. had finished the necessary arrangements for his journey, and entered freely into an animated and instructive conversation. His colloquial powers are of a high order. Even in familiar conversation, he is impressive and striking;--although he seems not to be ambitious of display or the distinction of taking a lead.--He is at home on most of the popular topics of the day. In discussing any of interest, he engages '_totus in illis_.' His thoughts in that case are rapid, and his remarks,--assuming the complexion of his fervid mind,--abound in glowing but easy illustrations. He spoke very feelingly upon the subject of the English poor laws, and the alarming increase of mendicity in Scotland. As in instance of the unnatural state of things in Glasgow itself, he referred to the sum of 14,000_l._ sterling, which in less than a month had been raised by subscription in this single city, for the relief of the poorer classes. To the honour, however, of the wealthy population of Glasgow, it should be added, that the moneys thus contributed, have been more than enough, with other private benefactions, to supply the present need; and the surplus has been funded to meet some future, and I hope, very distant exigency.

Conversation at table turned upon that dark and malignant spirit of infidelity, which under various forms, seems insidiously stealing like a pestilence throughout society. Dr. C's. remarks upon this subject were very eloquent, both in commenting upon the different masks which it assumes, and the coverts wherein it lurks, and in suggesting some seemingly effectual checks to the prevalence of this tremendous evil. The inquiries of Dr. C. relative to America, as well now as during a former interview, indicated no small degree of attention which he has paid to its civil and religious institutions. He spoke in terms of great commendation of the writings of the late Jonathan Edwards, and pronounced them to be among the ablest in English theology. In metaphysics he considers Edwards to have equalled the deepest thinkers of his age.

The supper at Dr. C's. was liberally and tastfully provided. Immediately after its removal, and before the wine was placed upon the table, the service of evening devotion was introduced. It was simple but engaging; consisting of a portion of scripture, which was read with great solemnity, and a prayer, during which all the company kneeled, as is usual to family devotions throughout this country. The servants were present. It was nearly twelve o'clock when we took leave of Dr. C. A very friendly request which he made that I would visit him hereafter in Glasgow, I fear that I shall never have it in my power to comply with.

_Glasgow, 14th April._--Yesterday I had the satisfaction to hear Dr. Chalmers preach once more. It was generally understood that it would be the last time that he would officiate in Glasgow for two or three months, and the crowds which assembled to hear him were very great. He was absent from his own pulpit, by exchange, in the morning, which did not prevent, however many from following him to the church where he preached. The Tron, in the afternoon, was overflowing some time before the hour of service, and the rush of people to the doors was as great as I have seen at Covent Garden, when John Kemble was to play. I repaired early to the church with some ladies, and we were fortunate in procuring excellent seats. Dr. C. fully equalled my expectations, although I have heard him in Edinburgh produce a superior effect. The eloquence of this great man is very vehement and impassioned. The effect which he produces in preaching, does not consist in approaching his point by any artful and covert process of reasoning and illustration, but by openly marching up and confronting it with unhesitating and manly intrepidity. Whatever faults may be detected in Dr. C's. style by the cool eye of fastidious criticism,--from the profusion of his ornaments, the overstraining of his metaphors, the redundancy of his expression,--perhaps there is no person living who, when once seen and heard, would be pronounced more free from the petty or laboured artifices which are generally employed to recommend and enforce instruction. So regardless is he of the factitious aids of composition, that his style may often be considered negligent, and sometimes even coarse. This again may be regarded by hyper-critics as a species of affectation; a contrary, and, I believe, a juster inference may be drawn from the fact. Dr. C. unconsciously overlooks, while he is thought studiously to disdain, the more common trappings and gilding of composition. In preaching, he seems wholly absorbed in his sublime occupation, and to be irresistibly borne along by the grandeur of his theme. As a man, he appears to sink under a prostrating sense of his own personal nothingness, but as a herald of the Christian faith, he rises to the majesty of more than mortal elevation. In discussing the great truths of Revelation, his imagination kindles; and strange it would be if it did not. The fire which is elicited is the natural effect of the rapid motion of his thoughts, combined with the fervour of his ardent piety. His single services yesterday were enough to prove him the first preacher of his age. In each of his discourses there are some parts which are particularly impassioned, and at such moments he hurries onward as with the excitement of inspiration, and produces an effect which Whitefield could not have surpassed. At these times, too, the listening audience may be seen bending forward, as if with breathless interest, to catch each word as it falls from his lips; and, on his arriving at the conclusion of the particular train of sentiment, again arousing as from the spell of a dream to the reality of conscious existence. This is not fancy, or if it be, it is one which I am not singular in possessing. Dr. C. at least produces the effect of awakening susceptibilities in the most obdurate bosoms. I was present one evening when he was preaching in lady Glenorchy's chapel, in Edinburgh, and occupied a seat next to Spurzheim, the celebrated craniologist. I noticed that he was deeply engaged by the preacher. On his finishing, I inquired what he thought of him? "It is too much, too much," said he, passing his hand across his forehead, "my brain is on a fever by what I have been hearing," a striking declaration from a cold and phlegmatic German.

Dr. C. seems to act and feel as one, who, possessed of great intellectual endowments, is conscious that he owes them all to the service of religion. His aim apparently is, to "bring every thought into captivity to the truth of Christ," and to "cast down each lofty imagination," at the foot of the cross. To add to the weight of his discourses, he is accustomed to call into requisition the abounding stores of his various knowledge. In delivering his sermons he usually commences in a low, but always a distinct tone of voice; and proceeds for some time with a calm and uniform utterance. As his subject is developed, his mind and feelings gradually expand, and his voice is insensibly raised. His manner at first is not prepossessing; nor indeed is his voice to an English ear, as it has much of the Fifeshire accent. The hearer, however, soon loses whatever is disagreeable in each; and even forgets the man while listening to the message of the preacher. Dr. C. appears turned of thirty-eight, in his person he is tall, and rather slender; his hair and complexion incline to dark; his eye is a blue tending to gray, and is distinguished at first only by a certain heaviness in its expression. It beams however in conversation, and flashes in public discourse.

Some facts in the history of this extraordinary man are peculiar. For the first few years of his ministry he was settled in Kilmany, an inconsiderable parish in the county of Fife. While there, he was generally accounted a man of talents, but rather indifferent to the duties of his profession, fond of social and gay company, proud of his intellectual powers no less so of his acquirements, and careless of the construction which the more serious part of the community might put upon his principles and sentiments. If I am correctly informed, he occasionly gave lectures in natural philosophy at the university of St. Andrews, and was considered as belonging to the moderate party in the kirk. Dr. Brewster applied to him to write the article _Christianity_, in his Encyclopedia; and it is said, that the train of thought into which his investigation led him, terminated in convictions which had the effect of changing his whole course of life and sentiments; and from that moment, entering into the ranks of orthodoxy, he became an eminent and powerful champion of the faith. His essay has since been published in a separate form, and entitled the "Evidences of Christianity." Shortly after this remarkable change, his reputation rose with astonishing rapidity; his zeal in the service of religion became inextinguishable; and if the excellence of a preacher is to be estimated by his popularity, Dr. C. is decidedly the first in Great Britain. He was transferred to Glasgow two or three years ago. His parish is very large, consisting, as he told me, of nearly ten thousand souls. So great a number imposes duties upon him peculiarly heavy: nor does his constitution seem capable of sustaining his fatigues. In delivering his discourses from the pulpit, which generally occupy an hour, it is usual with him to stop about midway, and read a hymn of six or eight verses, to be sung by the audience, while an opportunity is given him to recover from the partial exhaustion occasioned by this vehement oratory. The people in Edinburgh are desirous of erecting a church for him, and requesting him to settle among them; but an obstacle is found in the jealousy of the inhabitants of Glasgow, who look with no small uneasiness upon every thing which tends to aggrandize the reputation of Edinburgh.

THE NATURAL HISTORY OF ANTS.[1]

[1] The Natural History of Ants; by M. P. Huber, &c. Translated from the French, with Additional Notes, by J. R. Johnson, M.D. F.R.S. &c. London, 1820.