----

For the New-York Weekly Magazine.

ELEGY,

ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY ON TRANSCRIBING FOR HER
A POEM ON THE DEATH OF TWO UNFORTUNATE LOVERS.

NEW-YORK: Printed by JOHN BULL, No. 115, Cherry-Street, where every Kind of Printing work is executed with the utmost Accuracy and Dispatch.—Subscriptions for this Magazine (at 2s. per month) are taken in at the Printing-Office, and by E. MITCHELL, Bookseller, No. 9, Maiden-Lane.

View of the STARRY HEAVENS.

The sky at night presents us a sight of wonders, which must raise the astonishment of every attentive observer of nature. But from whence comes it, that so few consider the firmament with attention? I am willing to believe, that in general it proceeds from ignorance; for it is impossible to be convinced of the greatness of the works of God, without feeling a rapture almost heavenly. O how I wish to make you share this divine pleasure! Raise your thoughts for this purpose towards the sky: It will be enough to name to you the immense bodies which are strewed in that space, to fill you with astonishment at the greatness of the artificer. It is in the center of our system that the throne of the sun is established. The body is more than a million of times larger than the earth. It is one hundred millions of miles distant from it, and notwithstanding this prodigious distance, it has a most sensible effect upon our sphere. Round the sun move twenty-one globular bodies, seven of which are called planets, the other fourteen, moons or satellites; they are opake, and receive from the sun light, heat, and perhaps also their interior motion. Georgium Sidus, Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, the Earth, Venus, and Mercury, are the names of the seven principal planets. Of these seven, Mercury is nearest the sun, and for that reason is mostly invisible to the astronomer. As he is near nineteen times smaller than our earth, he contributes but little to adorn the sky. Venus follows him, and is sometimes called the morning, and sometimes the evening star. It is one of the brightest of the heavenly bodies, whether it precedes the sun-rise, or succeeds the setting sun. It is near as large again as our earth, and is about sixty-eight millions of miles distant from the sun. After Venus comes our earth, round which the moon moves, as a secondary planet. Mars, which is the fourth planet, is seven times smaller than our globe; and its distance from the sun is one hundred and forty-four millions of miles. Jupiter, with his belt, is always distinguished by his splendor in the starry sky: it seems in size to surpass all the fixed stars; it is almost as bright as Venus in all her glory, except that the light of it is less brilliant than the morning star. How small our earth is in comparison with Jupiter! There would not be less than eight thousand globes like ours, necessary to form one equal in size to that of Jupiter. Saturn, whose distance from the sun is upwards of nine hundred millions of miles, was thought the remotest planet until the late discovery of the Georgium Sidus, whose distance is eighteen thousand millions of miles, and its magnitude eighty-nine times greater than our earth. In the mean time, the sun, with all the planets which accompany it, is a very small part of the immense fabric of the universe. Each star, which from hence appears to us no larger than a brilliant set in a ring, is in reality an immense body which equals the sun both in size and splendor.

(To be concluded in our next.)

For sources, see the end of this file.

For the New-York Weekly Magazine.

KNOWLEDGE.

The life of man is lengthened by his pursuits of knowledge, as that of a fool by his passions. The time of the one is long, because he does not know how to spend it; but the other distinguishes every moment of it with useful and amusing thoughts; the one wishes it always elapsed, and the other enjoys it always.

How the view of past life, appears different to the man who is grown old in knowledge, from that who is grown old in ignorance; the latter is like the owner of a barren country, that sees nothing, but some hills and plains naked; the other beholds an agreeable landscape, and can scarce cast his eyes on a single spot of his land that is not covered with some beautiful plants.

CURIOUS ETYMOLOGY.

When the French first settled on the banks of St. Lawrence, they were stinted by the intendant, Monsieur Picard, to a can of spruce beer a day. The people thought this measure very scant, and every moment articulated, “Can-a-day!” It would be ungenerous in any reader to desire a more rational derivation of the word Canada.

THE FATAL EFFECTS OF INDULGING THE PASSIONS,
EXEMPLIFIED IN THE HISTORY OF M. DE LA PALINIERE.

Translated from the French.

(Concluded from page 18.)

In the midst of these thoughts, there was one more afflicting than all the rest; I was arrived at that height of misery, that my greatest misfortune was not that of being for ever separated from Julia; no, I had another more insupportable. The most virtuous and innocent of women, the ornament and glory of her sex, groaned beneath the opprobrious burthen of the world’s contempt, and I alone was the cause of this cruel injustice; the remembrance of this distracted me, and made me almost insensible to the consolations of friendship. Yes, said I to Sinclair, I could suffer singly for my errors, and support my punishment perhaps with fortitude. Time I know destroys passion and regret, but it never can enfeeble the remorse of a feeling heart born to the practice of virtue. The day may come, when Julia will no longer live in my imagination with all those seductive charms I now continually behold; but she will ever remain there the innocent sacrifice of folly and distraction, and the remembrance of that will be the torment of my life.

In effect, neither the tender cares of Sinclair, nor the dissipation of a long voyage, could weaken my chagrin. When we returned to Paris, Sinclair was obliged to leave me and rejoin his regiment, and I departed, almost immediately, for Holland; where, six months after, Sinclair came to me. He suggested an idea of my undertaking some kind of commerce, and lent me money necessary to make a beginning.

Fortune seconded this next project, and I foresaw the possibility of regaining the happiness I had lost: the desire of laying the fruits of my travels at the feet of my Julia, gave me as much industry as perseverance; I vanquished my natural indolence, and the tiresome disgust with which this new species of employment at first inspired me, and read and reflected during the time that business did not call my attention.

Study soon ceased to appear painful: I acquired a passionate love for reading; my mind was insensibly enlightened, my ideas enlarged, and my heart became calm. Industry, reading, and thinking, recovered me, by degrees, from the soporiferous draught of indolence; religion likewise gave fortitude to reason, elevated my soul, and released me from the tyrannical empire of passion.

This revolution in my temper and sentiments did not at all change my projects. ’Tis true, I had no longer that excessive and silly passion for Julia which had made us both so unhappy. I loved with less violence, with less self-interest, but with more certainty. Passion is always blind, selfish, and seeking its own satisfaction: friendship is founded upon esteem, owes all its power to virtue, is more affectionate, and the more affectionate it is, the more it is equitable and generous.

I passed five years in Holland, during which time I was constantly fortunate in the business in which I was engaged; and at length, by extreme œconomy and unwearied assiduity, entirely re-established my fortune. I  then thought of nothing but of once more visiting my own country. I imagined, with the most tender delight, the happiness I was going to regain, when falling at the feet of Julia, I might say to her, “I return worthy of you; I return to consecrate my life to your happiness.”

Thus occupied by the most delightful of ideas, I departed from Holland, far, alas! from suspecting the blow I was about to receive.

I had written to Sinclair, desiring him to inform Julia of my journey, and received an answer at Brussels; by which I learned Julia had had a fever, but at the same time the letter assured she had not been dangerously ill, and was almost recovered. The explanations which accompanied that letter prevented all uneasiness, and I continued my route with no other fear than that of seeing Julia more surprized than affected at my resolutions and return.

I drew nearer and nearer to Paris, and at last, when within twenty leagues, I met Sinclair, who stopped my carriage, and descended from his own: I opened my door, and flew to embrace him; but as soon as my eyes met his, I shuddered: astonishment and terror rendered me speechless! Sinclair opened his arms to me, but his face was bathed in tears! I durst not ask the reason, and he had not the power to tell me. I expected the worst, and from that moment faithless fleeting joys forever forsook my heart!

Sinclair dragged me towards my carriage without speaking a single word, and the postillions instantly quitted the road to Paris. “Whither are you taking me?” cried I distractedly; “tell me: I will know.”

Ah, unhappy man!

Go on! continue! strike me to the heart!

Sinclair answered not, but wept and embraced me. Tell me, continued I, what is my fate? Is it her hatred, or her loss, thou wouldst announce?

Sinclair’s lips opened to answer, and my heart sunk within me; I wanted the courage to hear him pronounce my sentence; “Oh, my friend!” added I, “my life this moment is in thy hands.”

The supplicating tone with which I spoke these words, sufficiently expressed my feelings. Sinclair looked at me with compassion in his eyes. “I can be silent,” said he, “but dare not deceive:” he stopt; I asked no more; and the rest of the road we both kept a profound silence, which was only interrupted by my sobs and sighs.

Sinclair conducted me to a country-house, where I at length received a confirmation of my misery: alas! all was lost: Julia existed no more; her death not only deprived me of all felicity, but took from me the means of repairing my faults, of expiating my past errors, except by regret, repentance, and by daily pouring out my silent griefs before an elegant Mausoleum, which the generous friendship of Sinclair had kindly caused to be erected to her memory in the neighbourhood of his country-house.

The remainder of my history has nothing interesting; consoled by time and religion, I consecrated the rest of my career to friendship, study, and the offices of humanity; I obtained my uncle’s pardon, and the care of making him happy became my greatest delight; and I fulfilled, without effort, and in their whole extent, those sacred duties which nature and gratitude required.

Though my uncle was far advanced in years, heaven still permitted him to remain with me ten years, after which I had the misfortune to lose him: I purchased his estate, and retired thither for the rest of my days.

Sinclair promised to come and see me once a-year, and though fifteen are now past since that event, we have never been eighteen months without seeing each other.

Sinclair, at present in his fifty-eighth year, has run a career the most brilliant and the most fortunate: a happy husband, a happy father, a successful warrior, covered with glory, loaded with fortune’s favours, he enjoys a felicity and fate the more transcendant, in that they only could be procured by virtue united to genius.

As for me, I, in my obscure mediocrity, might yet find happiness, were it not for the mournful, the bitter remembrance of the evils which others have suffered through the errors of my youth.

----

EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURE OF A SPANISH NOBLEMAN.

From the Chevalier De Rabilier’s remarkable Events of the present Century.

Francis Anthony De Sandoval, duke of Medina Celi, and of St. Lucar, in the province of Andalusia, was not only a grandee of the first class, but exceedingly beloved in the country where he usually resided, on account of his great benevolence and affability to all ranks of people who approached him. Having a prodigious estate in lands, besides the duties and customs of the port of St. Lucar, near Seville, which were conferred on his family by Roderick the last monarch of the Gothic race, he kept a sort of vice royal court, to which the nobility, gentry, and merchants, around his wide domain, were always welcomed with the grandeur of a prince, the hospitality of a burgher, and the smiles of a friend. Young, rich, powerful, and revered by thousands, who considered him as the pride of their country, and an honour to the whole nation, nothing seemed wanting to complete the felicity of this worthy nobleman, but an alliance suitable to his elevated rank and more distinguished virtues. Many were the overtures on that head, from the most illustrious families in every part of Spain; but his grace, who was of a domestic turn, and averse from the vanities of high life, declined entering into any engagement which might subject him to the impertinence, folly, and etiquette, to which the major part of the fashionable world seem to abound, either as servile imitators, or involuntary slaves. He loved magnificence, but abhorred ceremony as much as the amusements wherein persons of fortune usually lose the best part of their time. Hunting he considered as a manly exercise, calculated to brace the nerves, and give circulation to the blood, therefore to be taken occasionally as physic, not followed as a trade. It may be asked by some fantastic man of pleasure of the court, or jolly squire of the country, how then could a person of his quality spend his leisure hours? Why, in reading, walking, entertaining his numerous friends at home, and returning the necessary visits abroad, in various innocent parties on land and water, in keeping up his gardens and improvements, in examining his vast houshold accounts, inspecting the state of his vassals and farmers, hearing and redressing their grievances, portioning the marriageable daughters of his poor tenantry, and presiding at those nuptials, where he is considered in the threefold light of father, benefactor, and guardian; as the ministering angel of comfort, and deputed commissioner of a bountiful Providence, to dispense his gracious mercies amongst the sons and daughters of affliction. If to these healthful avocations and duties, so worthy elevated rank and rich possessions, we add the public and private attendance on religious worship, frequent self-examination, and the distribution of super-abundant wealth, to modest indigence and clamorous distress, as a small tribute for the distinguished blessings, which rightly enjoyed, will confer the purest happiness here, and a crown of glory in the regions of everlasting day hereafter, little or no time can be spared for frivolous amusements or sinful pursuits. Think of this, ye extravagant and debauched men of quality without peace, morals, or good faith, whose hours are sacrificed to folly, whose minds are the sport of delusion, whose bodies are the sinks of disease, and whose fortunes are hastening to the hands of the extortioner who sooner or later, will consume all you possess! Let the example of the duke of Medina point out the true man of sense, honour and distinction; act like him and be happy!

Whilst this model of real nobility was thus blessed, and blessing all around, chance led him to the house of a tradesman in Seville, whose only son was that very day to be married to an amiable girl of that city. The condescension with which his grace always accepted an offer of contributing to the pleasure of his friends and neighbours, rendered much solicitation needless, and he determined to stand bridesman on the occasion. The guests were a company of genteel citizens, who with their wives and daughters, made a very tolerable appearance, and the duke seemed delighted with manners not viciously refined, where elegance, unsullied by pride or affectation, and beauty, unassisted by art, shone out in native meridian lustre. But, with what joy did he behold a plain, modest maiden, daughter to a linen-draper, named Anthony de Valdez, who came with her mother to the wedding! He gazed, he admired, he loved, this picture of rural innocence, with as much elegance and sensibility as suited his ideas of a perfect form, joined to an amiable and virtuous mind. After some acquaintance and private enquiries, which terminated to the advantage of the young lady and her family, the duke demanded the fair Elvira de Valdez in marriage, and was received with equal joy and astonishment by the honest couple, who shed tears of gratitude for the happiness offered their beloved child by the richest and most illustrious lord in the whole monarchy of Spain. Miss Elvira expressed no reluctance, but what proceeded from her own demerit and total inequality; but this was soon got over, and the happy day fixed for the Sunday following.

(To be concluded in our next.)

AN ACCOUNT
OF A MURDER COMMITTED BY MR. J—— Y——,
UPON HIS FAMILY, IN DECEMBER, A.D. 1781.

(Concluded from page 20.)

At the noise of my feet upon the dry corn stalks---she turned hastily round and seeing me exclaimed, “O father, my dear father, spare me, let me live--let me live,--I will be a comfort to you and my mother--spare me to take care of my little sister Diana--do--do let me live.”--She was my darling child, and her fearful cries pierced me to the soul---the tears of natural pity fell as plentifully down my cheeks, as those of terror did down her’s, and methought that to destroy all my idols, was a hard task---I again relapsed at the voice of complaining; and taking her by the hand, led her to where her mother lay; then thinking that if I intended to retain her, I must make some other severe sacrifice, I bade her sing and dance---She complied, terribly situated as she was,---but I was not asking in the line of my duty—I was convinced of my error, and catching up a hatchet that stuck in a log, with one well aimed stroke cleft her forehead in twain---she fell---and no sign of retaining life appeared.

I then sat down on the threshold, to consider what I had best do---“I shall be called a murderer (said I) I shall be seized—imprisoned—executed, and for what?—for destroying my idols---for obeying the mandate of my father---no, I will put all the dead in the house together, and after setting fire to it, run to my sister’s and say the Indians have done it---“I was preparing to drag my wife in, when the idea struck me that I was going to tell a horrible lie;” and how will that accord with my profession? (asked I.) No, let me speak the truth, and declare the good motive for my actions, be the consequences what they may.”

His sister, who was the principal evidence against him, stated---that she had scarce got home, when a message came to Mr. J——n, her husband, informing him that his mother was ill and wished to see him; he accordingly set off immediately, and she not expecting him home again till the next day, went to bed---there being no other person in the house. About four in the morning she heard her brother Y——— call her, she started up and bade him come in. “I will not (returned he) for I have committed the unpardonable sin---I have burnt the Bible.” She knew not what to think, but rising hastily opened the door which was only latched, and caught hold of his hand: let me go, Nelly (said he) my hands are wet with blood---the blood of my Elizabeth and her children.---She saw the blood dripping from his fingers, and her’s chilled in the veins, yet with a fortitude unparalleled she begged him to enter, which—as he did, he attempted to sieze a case knife, that by the light of a bright pine-knot fire, he perceived lying on the dresser---she prevented him, however, and tearing a trammel from the chimney, bound him with it to the bed post---fastening his hands behind him---She then quitted the house in order to go to his, which as she approached she heard the voice of loud lamentation, the hope that it was some one of the family who had escaped the effects of her brother’s frenzy, subdued the fears natural to such a situation and time, she quickened her steps, and when she came to the place where Mrs. Y—— lay, she perceived that the moans came from Mrs. Y----’s aged father, who expecting that his daughter would set out upon her journey by day break, had come at that early hour to bid her farewel.

They alarmed their nearest neighbours immediately, who proceeded to Mrs. J——n’s, and there found Mr. Y---- in the situation she had left him; they took him from hence to Tomhanick, where he remained near two days---during which time Mr. W--tz--l (a pious old Lutheran, who occasionally acted as preacher) attended upon him, exhorting him to pray and repent; but he received the admonitions with contempt, and several times with ridicule, refusing to confess his error or join in prayer---I say join in prayer, for he would not kneel when the rest did, but when they arose he would prostrate himself and address his “father,” frequently saying “my father, thou knowest that it was in obedience to thy commands, and for thy glory that I have done this deed.” Mrs. Bl————r, at whose house he then was, bade some one ask him who his father was?—he made no reply---but pushing away the person who stood between her and himself, darted at her a look of such indignation as thrilled horror to her heart---his speech was connected, and he told his tale without variation; he expressed much sorrow for the loss of his dear family, but consoled himself with the idea of having performed his duty—he was taken to Albany and there confined as a lunatic in the goal, from which he escaped twice, once by the assistance of Aqua Fortis, with which he opened the front door.

I went in 1782 with a little girl, by whom Mr. Bl-----r had sent him some fruit; he was then confined in dungeon, and had several chains on---he appeared to be much affected at her remembrance of him, and put up a pious ejaculation for her and her family---since then I have received no accounts respecting him.

The cause for his wonderfully cruel proceedings is beyond the conception of human beings---the deed so unpremeditated, so unprovoked, that we do not hesitate to pronounce it the effect of insanity---yet upon the other hand, when we reflect on the equanimity of his temper, and the comfortable situation in which he was, and no visible circumstance operating to render him frantic, we are apt to conclude, that he was under a strong delusion of Satan. But what avail our conjectures, perhaps it is best that some things are concealed from us, and the only use we can now make of our knowledge of this affair, is to be humble under a scene of human frailty to renew our petition, “Lead us not into temptation.”

May 27, 1796.

BEAUTIFUL ALLEGORY.

Happiness and virtue are twins, which can never be divided; they are born and flourish, or sicken and die together.---They are joint offsprings of good-sense and innocence, and while they continue under the guidance of such parents, they are invulnerable to injury, and incapable of decay.

THE VICTIM OF MAGICAL DELUSION.
OR, INTERESTING MEMOIRS OF MIGUEL, DUKE DE CA*I*A.

UNFOLDING MANY CURIOUS UNKNOWN HISTORICAL FACTS.

Translated from the German of Tschink.

(Continued from page 22.)

I Found indeed a number of letters, however, they were written in cyphers. Now I comprehended why the Count had asked repeatedly whether I could read cyphers? Having made it a rule, in regard to this point, always to deny the question, he had probably left these writings on the supposition that I should not be able to read them, and saved only those which were written in common characters. However, the Count had deceived himself this time, for I am pretty well skilled in the art of decyphering. I took one of the papers which were marked 1. 2. 3. &c. &c. however, I perceived on the first attempt, that my art would encounter a hard trial. Yet this did not deter, but rather animated me to exert all my skill to find the key to these papers, while my servant was occupied with taking an exact copy of the rest.

I had already been working above twenty-four hours without seeing my labour crowned with success, when my servant, whom I had sent to the post, returned with a letter. Conceive my astonishment, when I found it was from the Count.

“Whatever Paleski may have discovered to your Grace with respect to me, yet I am assured that he cannot have said any thing for which my conscience condemns me, though I should not be able to defend it before an ecclesiastical, or a civil court of justice. I have deceived you; however, I have done it for a great and noble purpose, and by order of a powerful being, whose authority I and you acknowledge. I should despise myself, if mean, or self-interested views, could have prompted me to do what I have done. To stimulate you to take an active part in the delivery of your country, was the sole reason for which you have been imposed upon. Although Paleski should not have disclosed the secret to you, yet you would not have remained in the dark much longer, because it was the plan of the Unknown to remove the veil from your eyes, and to introduce you into a new world, for which you was to be prepared by the delusions which you have experienced. Man is led to truth by error, according to an eternal law of nature. It was necessary that you should be made acquainted with delusions, that your look might be sharpened for future knowledge; it was necessary you should experience the highest degree of delusion, that you might acquire the prerogative of discerning fraud from reality, and of never suffering yourself to be imposed upon again. Then, and not sooner, the time would have arrived, when the Unknown would have shown himself to you in his real shape, and embraced you not only as a preserver of your country, but also as a member of that sacred society of wise men, who are admitted behind the curtain of nature, whither no eye of common short-sighted men can penetrate. A power and a happiness of which you can form no adequate notion, would have been your reward. Your tutor already enjoys that reward, and if you had been keen-sighted enough to penetrate, without assistance, the mist of delusions with which you have been encompassed, you would have been admitted some time since to the sanctuary where that reward awaits you. More I dare not say at present; however, I would advise you not to postpone your journey, and neither to betray me or the Unknown. If you slight my advice, then you must ascribe to yourself all the bad consequences which may arise from it, and you never will meet again in this world your tutor or Amelia. I conjure you not to mistake this for a new delusion. If you, on the other side, are inclined to profit by this advice, you will continue your journey with all possible expedition, and not think it finished before you shall be arrived at Ma***d, the capital of Sp***n, you will meet the Unknown, Amelia and your tutor, on the road. At *ubea you will stop at the inn which bears the sign of the golden mirror, where you are to receive an important visit. You will have the goodness to send my trunk to the post-house, where one of my people will call for it. I remain, with that respect and love with which I always have been,

“Your Grace’s, &c. &c.”

I must confess, I never should have expected such a letter. I fancied it would be couched in terms of repentance and submission, and when I opened it, found it to be a letter of a man of good conscience, who took it upon himself to advise and to warn me. What he told me of a hidden sanctuary to which the Unknown had designed to introduce me after I should have completed my time of probation, was an utter riddle to me, but what he told me about my tutor was still more so. At first I fancied this to be nothing but a varnish, by which he would conceal his deceptions, and an artifice to ensnare me a second time; however the idea that the matter might be as he had stated it, made me uneasy, and his menaces with respect to the bad consequences of my discontinuing my journey, frightened me. The bare possibility of the execution of his threats, was sufficient to determine me to continue my journey.---Pietro, my faithful servant, endeavoured indeed to persuade me to drop my design assailing me with tears and prayers; however, nothing could change my resolution. I would have encountered any danger and difficulty in order to meet Amelia and my tutor again, and departed with the first dawn of day. I left the Count’s trunk at the post-house at **zin. At ***jelo, I was, at length, so fortunate as to find a key to the cyphers which I had despaired to unfold. I had already tried all languages which I was master of, and succeeded at length with the Latin. How amply did I think my trouble rewarded, when I found the papers to be copies of letters which the Unknown had wrote on my account to Pinto Ribeiro, privy counsellor of the Duke of Br**za. Here follows the translation:

“Your Excellency knows how carefully we endeavoured to conceal the place of our secret meetings from the intrusion of prying strangers, by spreading the report that it was haunted. However, this did not deter a young nobleman who is on his travels, from entering last night the castle, in company of his tutor, with the intention of forming an acquaintance with the ghosts. No sooner had we been informed of their being arrived at the castle, when Georgio de M**** offered to chastise them for their inquisitiveness, fixing twelve o’clock at night for the execution of his design. He disguised himself as the most dreadful spectre which ever has appeared at midnight. Concluding from the undertaking of the two strangers that they were men of spirit and resolution, he put on a coat of mail, and covered his face with a mask made of bull-skins, in order to be proof against swords and pistols; a precaution which, as the event proved, was not superfluous. Thus accoutred, he approached at twelve o’clock the apartment of the strangers with a tremendous noise. Their door was bolted from within as he had apprehended; however, all the locks and bolts in the castle being constructed in such a manner that they can be opened from without, Georgio found it not difficult to push their door open. I remained at the threshold in order to wait the event. Georgio no sooner had entered the room with a design to chastise the young man who was sitting near the window, at a table on which two candles were burning, than his tutor started up, aiming a blow at him from behind which would have done his business at once, if Georgio had not been protected by his coat of mail. The pretended spectre threw the old gentleman so violently on the ground that he was unable to move a limb. This sight entirely disconcerted the young man, who was on the point of firing a pistol at his frightful visitor, rushed on him with a thundering voice, extinguished the candles, and beating him in such a manner as if he was going to beat him to atoms. Georgio’s dress being anointed with a salve composed of phosphorus, he appeared in the dark, to be all on fire. The dreadful impression which this sight produced on the mind of the young man was increased by the howling, groaning, and the tremendous noise which some of our company raised in the apartment over his head; he seemed to be senseless. As soon as Georgio perceived his helpless state, he lighted the candles with phosphorus, and left the apartment which he carefully bolted and locked.

“An hour after this scene had been acted, Georgio returned to the apartment, partly with the intention of seeing what effect the incident had produced on the strangers, and partly with a view to deter them from paying a second visit to the castle, and renewed the former scene. Both of them were again stretched senseless on their beds. As soon as Georgio had done with the young nobleman, he left the room without kindling the taper, for fear of being watched by the young spark, if he should recover his recollection a little too soon. He was not mistaken. But who would have thought that the young man would be so daring to pursue the spectre on his return through the dark passage? Georgio, who did not entertain the most distant idea of such an attempt, neither looked back, nor shut the trap-door thro’ which he had jumped down into the subterraneous vault, upon a heap of hay and straw. He had not advanced four steps, when the report of a pistol re-echoed through the subterraneous fabric. Some of our company who were at hand, hastened to the spot from whence the report of the pistol had proceeded, wrapt in black cloaks, and provided with torches and swords. They found the young man lying upon the straw upon which he had fallen in the dark through the trap-door. He was instantly seized and conducted to the assembly-room, where the conspirators, who had previously masked their faces, were sitting around a long table. Hearing that he was to pay with his life for his rashness, he drew his sword, but was soon disarmed and confined in an adjoining chamber.

(To be continued.)

----

CURSORY THOUGHTS ON THE FICKLE GODDESS, SHEWING WITH WHAT INJUSTICE SHE GENERALLY DISPENSES HER FAVOURS.

It has long been the complaint of the experienced, that no human foresight, no prudence, can at all times ensure prosperity, and avert ill fortune. Something still arises to baffle the counsels of the wise, and to counteract the intentions of the good. The Roman satirist has indeed asserted, that fortune is a deity of our own creation, and that he, who submits to the guidance of prudence, needs not the interposition of any supernatural power; but experience proves the assertion to be rather the effusion of rigid and affected philosophy, than the cool suggestion of well-informed reason.

The observation of a sacred moralist, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, is more agreeable to truth, and has been confirmed by the repeated testimony of some thousand years. Wisdom is often found guilty of folly, and ingenuity of error.

As merit cannot always ensure success, even in the exertion of its peculiar excellence, so it is by no means certain of obtaining a good reception in the world: for history and experience furnish many examples to prove, that wealth and power are not the necessary consequences of wisdom and virtue. To be wise and virtuous, may be learned from an Epictetus, to be fortunate from others.

It might indeed be supposed, that strength of intellects, accuracy of judgment, and extensive erudition, would either secure to themselves good fortune, or would, at least, be rewarded by the world; but it is an incontestable truth, that poets and philosophers, of every age and every nation, have been as much distinguished by their indigence, as their ingenuity. Poverty and poetry are almost synonymous, while the unerring experience of mankind has reduced it to a proverb, that fools have fortune.

The insufficiency of merit, and of honest endeavours, to the acquisition of fame and fortune, has given occasion to the discontented to repine, and censure the economy of human affairs: but they who are conversant in the investigation of final causes, easily perceive, that such a dispensation tends to perfect virtue, by the exercise of patience.

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MORAL AXIOM.

Those who reprove with passion for every trifle, in a little time will not be regarded when they reprove with reason.

For the New-York Weekly Magazine.

ACTIVITY CONDUCIVE TO HAPPINESS.

The final cause of the many obstacles which we meet with, and the numerous difficulties in which this journey of life involves us, will readily appear to a confederate mind, as an excellent contrivance of Providence to stimulate us to exertion. Without this order of things, many faculties would lay dormant, the ends of our being would be frustrated, and this world be no longer a scene of trial. Man is naturally inclined to indulge himself in ease and inactivity, and were it not for certain motives, would always remain in a state of rest: But the fluctuating nature of all human affairs constantly counteracts this propensity to accommodate ourselves to every situation, and urges forward on the road in pursuit of something we call happiness, or hastens our flight from some evil. The long-expected hour of happiness is perhaps at length arrived, and deluded man sits down to enjoy life, and hopes at last to find innocent and tranquil pleasures. The storms of adversity arise and obscure the delightful prospect; his attention is excited, and some unforeseen emergency demands the exertion of his talents, and proves that man is made for action.

Account of a WONDERFUL DELIVERANCE at SEA near fifty years ago.

A Dutch seaman being condemned to death, his punishment was changed, and he was ordered to be left at St. Helen’s Island. This unhappy person representing to himself the horror of that solitude, fell upon a resolution to attempt the strangest action that ever was heard of. There had that day been interred in the same island an officer of the ship: the seaman took up the body out of the coffin; and having made a rudder of the upper board, ventured himself to sea in the coffin. It happened fortunately for him to be so great a calm that the ship lay immoveable within a league and a half of the island; when his companions seeing so strange a boat float upon the waters, imagined they saw a spectre, and at last were not a little startled at the resolution of the man, who durst hazard himself upon that element in three boards slightly nailed together, though he had no confidence to find or to be received by those who lately sentenced him to death. Accordingly it was put to the question, whether he should be received or not; some would have the sentence put into execution, but at last mercy prevailed, and he was taken aboard, and came afterwards to Holland; where he lived in the town of Horn, and related to many how miraculously God had delivered him.

OBSERVATION.

A youth is generally laughed at by his youthful companions where they see him pursue the paths of virtue and piety with alacrity and zeal; but let him not be discouraged; if God be on his side, who can be against him?