The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 157

ANECDOTE.

Some time ago, a gentleman was robbed of some _loose_ silver and an _empty_ purse. The highwayman discovering the inutility of the latter, very politely returned, and gave him his purse back, with the following observations:--'Sir, I shan't put you to the trouble of advertising it; for indeed it is of _no use but to the owner_.'

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

Thinking the following Fragment, found among the writings of the late much lamented Doctor _Joseph Youle_, will be an acquisition to the Editors of the _Weekly Magazine_, I have endeavoured to obtain a copy of it, and present it to them, with a wish that it may be received by the public with as much pleasure as it was by

M.

_A FRAGMENT, after the manner of J. Y._

The sun was retiring behind a lofty ridge of mountains to gladden other regions; the towering spires of the village churches were tipt with gold; while the resplendent rays reflected from the windows dazzled the eye. Above was the azure vault, variegated with fleecy clouds; beneath was Nature's verdant carpet. The little songsters of the grove were paying their tributes of praise in melodious strains; the bleatings of the lambs, and the lowings of the milky mothers re-echoed from the vallies. The waters of a gently murmuring stream, which ran by the foot of a mountain, were silvered o'er by the mild rays of the queen of night. The soothing sound of a distant cataract gently saluted the ear.

The fragrant odors of flowers, watered by gentle zephyrs, breath'd a delightful perfume.

Surely, says AMELIA, all nature conspires to calm the mind, to restore tranquility, to soften every care. But what can ease the torture of a love-sick soul; like the angry sea after agitation by bl.u.s.tering winds, 'tis still tumultuous. My PHILANDER sleeps in the silent dust; to the king of terrors he has fallen an untimely prey: cold are the clods that cover his once faithful breast. That heart which was once the seat of sensibility, and endowed with every virtue, ceases to vibrate to the sound of woe. The widow and the orphan shall point to thy tomb, PHILANDER, and cry, There lies our friend and patron! She walked pensively towards the place where his last remains were interred: Is this white stone, emblem of his innocence, the only _memento_ of the lovely youth?--No--thou ever livest in the soul of AMELIA; there, in indelible characters, thy image is impress'd. I will strew thy grave with flowers; I will raise upon it the green sod; I will encircle it with willows. Let not unhallowed feet tread here; this place to love is sacred. Nightly will I visit thy grave, nor shall the wealth of worlds induce me to forego the mournful pleasure. If the spirits of the just watch round their surviving friends, then surely thou art my guardian angel. Dear shade, thou knowest the anguish of my soul: to me thou can'st not be visible--where thou art, I soon shall be, never to part again: in that state, where eternal love, and joy, and peace prevail.

While she stood entranced in pleasing antic.i.p.ation, she reflected on his last request:--"AMELIA, live to reward my virtues, friend, and bless the world with a race of angels like thyself." Suddenly she started at the voice of complaining and of woe;--'twas t.i.tIUS, breathing the anguish of his soul to the silent night.--"Oh, AMELIA, thou lovely fair one, how long must I mourn an unreturned affection? thou knowest I waste my midnight hours in thoughts on thee; the conscious moon, the woods, the groves, are witnesses of my love: I grieve unpitied--I sigh unheard." As he advanced towards her, she exclaimed:--"t.i.tIUS, I know, I feel thy sorrow;--if thou can'st in return for love accept of friendship, I am thine. Thou knowest the object of my soul, the once adorable, amiable PHILANDER." In an extacy of amazement and delight, he cries--"Angels, catch the sounds; 'tis my AMELIA's voice: thy friendship is more valuable than the love of t.i.tIUS. Let us be happy. We will visit the grave of PHILANDER together, and pay to his memory the tribute of love and friendship. Each returning season we will decorate his grave with flowers, till we go to join him in the world of spirits; where there is an ever blooming spring, an eternal day."

NEW-YORK.

_MARRIED,_

On Thursday the 30th ult. at Flatbush, (L.I.) by the Rev. Mr. Faitoute, Mr. Charles d.i.c.kenson, of Saybrook, (Connecticut) to Miss Nancy Smith, of this city.

Same evening, by the Rev. Dr. Pilmore, Mr. Hugh Dougherty, to Miss Elizabeth Forbes, both of this city.

On Sat.u.r.day evening the 1st inst. by the Rev. Dr. M'Knight, Mr. John Kendrickson, of Albany, to Miss Maria Griffin, of this city.

On Sunday evening the 2d inst. by the Rev. Mr. Nicols, Mr. Stephen Lyons, late of Stamford, (Connecticut) to Miss Ann Warner, of this city.

On Monday evening the 3d inst. by the Rev. Dr. Beach, Mr. Samuel Milner, of the Island of St. Thomas's, to Miss Mary Gardner, daughter of Mr.

Charles Gardner, of this city.

On Wednesday last, at East-Chester, by the Rev. Mr. Ireland, John Smith, Esq. of Baltimore, to Miss Eliza Smith, of this city.

_METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS._ _From the 2d to the 8th inst._

THERMOMETOR observed at 6, _A.M._ 3, _P.M._ Prevailing winds.

OBSERVATIONS on the WEATHER.

deg. deg. 6. 3. 6. 3.

100 100 April 2 40 48 sw. se. clear l. wd. do. h. w.

3 46 70 s. do. clear calm. do. lt. w.

4 46 60 e. s. clr. l. w. do. do. th. lg. r.

5 54 82 sw. do. clr. l. w. do. cal. th. lg. r.

6 56 56 n. e. cloudy lt. wd. do. do.

7 44 42 ne. e. cly. l. w. P. rai. h. w.

8 39 40 e. do. cly. l. w. P. rain.

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

[The following, by mere accident, has fallen into my hands; the author of which I have not the honour of being acquainted with.

--As I cannot conceive it will in any degree offend him by its insertion in your Repository, and as its merits int.i.tles it to your attention, I beg you will give it a place.

L. B.]

STANZAS, Addressed to a Young Lady.

The hour full fraught with woes is now arriv'd, In which I bid thy lovely form farewell; Sever'd from thee can I the task survive, O cruel Fate! who I have lov'd so well!

Endless and sharp will be my woes, No ray of comfort shall I see; And yet who knows, alas! who knows If thou wilt ever think of me!

Still will my fond affection hold thee dear, And sensibility will draw th' empa.s.sion'd tear.

Pensive along the hollow murmuring sh.o.r.e, Or woods, and wilds, and solitary glades, Or night's dull form, or ev'ning's grateful shades, Or rocks romantic height, I'll thee implore.

From the grey twilight's dawn till ev'ning's close, In woods sequester'd I will call on thee; And yet who knows, alas! alas! who knows If thou wilt e'er bestow one thought on me.

With cadence soft, the circ.u.mambient breeze, Responsive, bursting through the waving trees; And echo, repercussive from her cell, Does sweetly vibrate through the neighb'ring dell, To bid the mind's tumultuous pa.s.sion's tide, In Reason's law, and call recess subside.

To lull the heart-rent pang of Nature's sigh, And dry the tear of sensibility, In these lone solitary wilds I'll call on thee, Whilst thou, perhaps, wilt ne'er remember me.

There Nature, G.o.ddess of the heart, Shall ev'ry tender wish reclaim; Her healing balm she will impart, And ease my bosom of its pain.

There, wrapt in meditation's calm repose, My heart shall only weep for others woes.