The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 74

"He who can brave death," replies the haughty Pulaski, "can support slavery. My daughter shall never be the wife of a traitor."

"Do you love better that she should be a Tartar's mistress?---If you do not promise to give her, within the s.p.a.ce of eight days, to this brave man, I myself shall espouse her this very night! When I am weary of you and of her, I will sell you to the Turks. Your daughter is handsome enough to find admittance into the _haram_ of a bashaw: and you yourself may perhaps superintend the kitchen of some janissary."

"My life is in your hands; do with it whatsoever you please. If Pulaski falls beneath the sword of a Tartar, he will be lamented, and even his enemies will agree that he merits a more glorious destiny: but if he were to consent: No! no! I rather choose---I prefer death!"

"I do not desire your death! I wish only that Lovzinski should espouse Lodoiska. What!---Shall my prisoner give the law to me? By my sabre!---this dog of a Christian---but I am in the wrong---he is furious, and is a.s.suredly deprived of his reason."

I now beheld the Tartar's eyes sparkle with fury, and therefore recalled to his memory the promise he had made me, that he would not give way to his pa.s.sion.

"Undoubtedly! but this man wearies out the patience of a favourite of our prophet! I am but a robber!---Yet Pulaski, I repeat it to you again, that it is my command that Lovzinski espouse your daughter. By my sabre, he has fairly gained her; but for him she had been burnt last night."

"But for him!"

"Yes! Behold those ruins; there stood a tower in that place; it was on fire, and no person dared to ascend it: he, however, mounted the stair-case, attended by Boleslas---and they saved your daughter!"

"Was my daughter in that tower?"

"Yes! that h.o.a.ry villain had confined her there; that h.o.a.ry villain, who attempted to violate her!---Some of you must relate the whole to him; but make haste, as it is necessary that he should decide instantly; I have business elsewhere, for I do not intend that your militia* shall surprise me here: it is otherwise in the plains; there I should laugh at them."

[* The troops stationed on purpose to watch over the safety of the frontiers of Podolia and Volhnia, and preserve them from the incursions of the Tartars, are called Quartuaires.]

While t.i.tsikan ordered the rich booty which he had taken, to be stowed in little covered waggons, Lodoiska informed her father of the crimes of Dourlinski, and mingled the recital of our affection so artfully with the history of her misfortunes, that nature and grat.i.tude at one and the same time began to besiege the heart of Pulaski.

Affected in the most lively manner with the misfortunes of his daughter, and sensible of the important services which I had rendered her, he embraces Lodoiska, and at length beholding me without resentment, he seemed to wait impatiently for an opportunity to be reconciled to me.

"O Pulaski!" I exclaim, "you whom Heaven hath left me, on purpose to console me for the loss of the best of fathers; you for whom I have an equal friendship and veneration; why hast thou condemned thy children unheard? Why hast thou supposed a man who adores thy daughter, guilty of the most horrible treason?

"When my vows were offered up in favour of that prince who now fills the throne, I swear to you, Pulaski, by her whom I love so tenderly, that I looked upon his elevation to be an event highly auspicious to the happiness, the safety, and the prosperity of my country.

"The misfortunes which my youth did not foresee, thy experience had antic.i.p.ated: but because I have been wanting in prudence, ought you to accuse me of perfidy? Ought you to have reproached me for loving my friend? Can you now look upon it as a crime, that I still give him my esteem? For the three last months, I have beheld the misfortunes of my country in the same point of view as yourself: like you, I have mourned over them; but I am sure that the king is still ignorant of their extent, and I shall go to Warsaw on purpose to inform him of all that I have seen."

Pulaski here interrupts me:---"It is not there that you ought to repair: you tell me that M. de P*** is not informed of the wrongs done to his native country, and I believe you: but whether he is acquainted with, or whether he is entirely ignorant of them, is now but of little consequence. Insolent foreigners, cantoned throughout our provinces, strive to maintain themselves in the republic, even against the king, whom they have caused to be elected. It is no longer in the power of an impotent or a mal-content king, to chase the Russians from my country!

"Let us trust only to ourselves, Lovzinski; and let us either avenge our country, or die in her defence. I have a.s.sembled 4000 n.o.ble Poles in the palatinate of Lublin, who wait but for the return of their general, to march against the Russians: follow me to my camp----on this condition I am your friend, and my daughter shall be your wife!"

(_To be continued._)

CONJUGAL AFFECTION.

Lady Fanshaw, whose husband was Clerk of the Council to Charles the First and Second, and translator of the Pastor Fido, relates the following extraordinary circ.u.mstance in some MSS memoirs of herself, addressed to her son. The transaction took place during a voyage that Lady Fanshaw made from Galway to Malaga, in the spring of the year 1649.

"We pursued our voyage with prosperous winds.--When we had just pa.s.sed the Straits, we saw coming towards us, with full sails, a Turkish galley well manned, and we believed we should be carried away slaves; for the captain had so laden his ship with goods for Spain, that his guns were useless, though the ship carried 60 guns. He called for brandy, and after he had well drunken and all his men, which were near 200, he called for arms, and cleared the deck as well as he could, resolving to fight rather than lose his ship, which was worth 30,000l. This was sad for us pa.s.sengers, but my husband bid us be sure to keep in the cabin, and not appear, which would make the Turks think we were a man of war, but if they saw women, they would take us for merchants and detain us.

He went upon deck, and took a gun, a bandelier, and sword, expecting the arrival of the Turkish man of war. The beast of a Captain had locked me up in the cabin---I knocked and called to no purpose, until the cabin-boy came and opened the door. I, all in tears, desired him to be so good as to give me his thrum cap and his tarred coat, which he did, and I gave him half a crown, and putting them on, and flinging away my night-clothes, I crept up softly, and stood upon the deck by my husband's side, as free from sickness and fear as, I confess, of discretion, but it was the effect of that pa.s.sion which I could never master. By this time the two vessels were engaged in parley, and so well satisfied with speech and sight of each other's force, that the Turks men tacked about, and we continued our course. But when your father saw it convenient to retreat, looking upon me, he blessed himself, and s.n.a.t.c.hed me up in his arms, saying, "Good G.o.d, that love can make this change!" and though he seemingly chid me, he would laugh at it as often as he remembered that voyage."

_ANECDOTE_ OF MRS. D'ARBLAY (LATE MISS BURNEY),

The much admired Auth.o.r.ess of EVELINA, CECILIA, and a work of still greater merit, ent.i.tled CAMILLA; OR, A PICTURE OF YOUTH: the latter has but just appeared in London, is now in the press, and will shortly be published by the EDITOR.

Miss Burney, who has lately married M. D'Arblay, a French Emigrant, is daughter to the late Dr. Burney, so well known in the annals of music.

At an early age she was pa.s.sionately fond of reading novels, which drew on her the censure of her father, who looked on those then extant, as but ill calculated to afford any solid improvement or rational amus.e.m.e.nt. Soon after, Miss Burney, without the knowledge of her parent, wrote the much admired history of Evelina---, which was immediately published in London, without disclosing the name of the author, as she dreaded incurring her father's displeasure.

Dr. Burney, soon after the publication of Evelina, having accidentally entered a bookseller's shop, was presented with this work, and strongly recommended to purchase it; his general dislike to novels, prevented his compliance, till strongly urged by the bookseller to give it even a cursory review: but no sooner had he perused a few pages, than he made his bargain, and having gone through the whole performance, he called his daughter, and recommended it to her as the only production of the kind that merited her attention; observing, that "the other books she so much read, were entirely beneath her notice, but that he was now happy in being able to present her with a novel, possessed of such intrinsic merit, as to render it well worthy her most attentive perusal."

How great was Miss Burney's surprize, on being presented with the work of her own pen, produced during many a stolen hour s.n.a.t.c.hed from pleasures or from sleep! yet how flattering and how grateful to her sensible mind must the eulogium of so excellent a judge have proved!

Encouraged by his approbation, she disclosed the secret to the joy of a doating parent, who felt proud at having a daughter possessed of a genius capable of producing a piece which he deemed inimitable. Evelina went through four editions in the course of the first year, and Cecilia met with the most unbounded applause. The Queen, hearing so much in favour of our heroine, gave her the appointment of reader to her Majesty, with a large salary annexed, but interdicted her from publishing any thing, as derogatory to the dignity of her station.

Her marriage with Mr. D'Arblay, a gentleman suited to so amiable a partner, occasioned the loss of her place at court. This circ.u.mstance may be considered as a very considerable advantage to the republic of letters.

As the sun after a long concealment behind the darkening cloud, breaks forth with redoubled l.u.s.tre, to the joy and exhilaration of mankind---so does this amiable writer appear to the votaries of taste and literature, holding in her hand the interesting history of Camilla---depicting in the most striking and variegated colours the feelings and propensities of the youthful mind, whether actuated by the celestial principles inspired by heaven, or stimulated by the bias of evil examples or vicious inclinations. Nor does she here omit the opportunity of displaying virtue in the most fascinating garb, while vice is depicted in the most forbidding and hateful dress. The sentiments she here inculcates, are of the most n.o.ble, refined and exalted nature---such as if generally diffused, would contribute to instil in the heart of man, the divine attributes of his maker, and render him as happy as would be consistent with the frailty of his probationary state. In fine, we may p.r.o.nounce Camilla a _chef d'uvre_, worthy the perusal of all who are desirous of rational entertainment, or anxious to have the feelings of the heart awakened to impressions of the most delightful and charming nature.

_NEW-YORK._

MARRIED,

On Wednesday last, by the Right Rev. Bishop Provost, Capt. ALEXANDER DON, to the amiable Miss MARIA BERRIMEN, both of this city.

That union sure, completely blest must prove, Founded on Virtue just esteem and love.

Happy, thrice happy, may you be thro' life, He the best husband, you the kindest wife.

On Sat.u.r.day evening last, by the Rev. Mr. Pilmore, Mr. WILLIAM SHATZEL, to Miss ELSIE HALL, both of this city.

LINES FROM THE REV. MR. BISHOP TO HIS WIFE, WITH A PRESENT OF A PENKNIFE

A knife, dear girl, cuts love they say, Mere modish love perhaps it may: For any tool of any kind Can sep'rate what was never join'd-- The knife that cuts our love in two Will have much tougher work to do; Must cut our softness, worth and spirit, Down to the vulgar size and merit; To level yours with modern taste, Must cut a world of sense to waste, And from your single beauty's store Chip what would dizen out a score.

The self same blade from me must sever Sensation, judgment, sight forever!

All mem'ry of endearments past, All hope of comfort long to last, All that makes fourteen years with you A summer--and a short one too; All that affection feels and fears, When hours without you, seem like years; Till that be done, (and I'd as soon Believe this knife will chip the moon) Accept my present undeterr'd, And leave their proverbs to the herd.

If in a kiss (delicious treat) Your lips acknowledge the receipt, Love, fond of such substantial fare, And proud to play the glutton there, All thoughts of cutting will disdain, Save only--_cut and come again_.