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SINGULARITIES.

vour of the immortality of the soul, when formed for two purposes, to be virtuous Frederick suddenly interrupted him by and to be happy. He did not confine exclaiming :- What sir, you wish to be the latter term within the limits of any. immortal ? Pray, what have you done to philosophical theory,--he understood deserve it?"

happiness as the world, and not as the philosophers understood it. Being of

a gay disposition he gave it free vent;, Cardinal Brundusius caused this and the levities of his youth were as epitaph in Rome to be inscribed much the subject of conversation as the upon his tomb, both to show his

heroism of his maturer.years has become,

the theme of history, willingness to‘die, and to tas triose

He used to relate with much pleasure who were loth to depart.

a kind of adventure which had occurred Excessi e vitæ ærumnis facilsique lubens- to him upon his first introduction into

the great world.--the court of Louis Ne pegora ipsa morte dehinc videam. . XIV. We here translate it freely as it With ease and freedom I resign’d this is given in a French work of literary breath,

reputation, which has just appeared in Lest I should longer see what's worse Paris, and attracted much attention. than death.

The Father of Turrene was persuaded that his son would make his fortune at

Paris, but with that kind of blindness) The proverb says · Boston folks not uncominon to patents, he expected are full of notions,” but we meet suited to the character and mind.of thet

this dosived event by means, very little with themi no where more than in young Chevalier. Will it be credited that England. In a late Magazine we Turrene was sent to the court of Louis find the following notices.

XIV. for the purpose of making his A rich citizen, lately deceased, left

fortune by entering into the Sorbonne ? each of his two daughters, as their for

Accordingly with-ten louis d'ars in his tune, their weight in 11. Bank-notes ; Lucted by his father to the town nearest

pocket, the young Turenne was conand, on being put into the scale, the his paternal chateau, whence

the good eldest weighed 7 stone 2lb. the

second old gentleman saw his son safely into a 8 stoneThe eldest, in consequence, became possessed of a fortune amount provincial stage, and with many bless. ing to 51,2001. and the youngest, being ings left him on his road to Paris. the heaviest, to 57,3441. and it was' as.

Turrene,when a few miles on his road, certained on the following scale : -32 got into conversation with a fellow pas-, Bank-notes, of 11. each, weigh an ounce senger : and there being in the vehicle avoirdupois : 512 notes will therefore but this gentleman and himself, they weigh a pound-51,200 notes will weigh

soon became as much acquainted as if 7-stones 2 pounds, or 100 pounds and they had passed their whole lives to 57,344 notes weigh 112 pounds, or 8 noted for his candour and pleasantry,

gether. Turrene himself was always Mr. Curran, cross-examining a Tai

and the young Chevalier, luis fellow-paslor. Upon your oath, Sir, where did senger, seemed much of the same char. this conversation liappen?“ In the back acter. . There were no limits, therefore parlour of my shop, my cutting roon.", to their mutual confidence. Turrene “What were you then about your: tions; and his companion, equally com

entered into a narrative of his expectaself?”,“ Walking about.”-“ Ave, just municative, informed Turrene of all taking a stroll in your cabbage garden.” | the circumstances of his situation.

Turrene learned by this detail that the name of bis companion was the Chevalier Dupaty ;, that he was the son

of an old citizen of Blois, and was The celebrated Viscount Turrene, in going to Paris on a visit to a merchant, his earlier youtli, was a man of pleasure the old friend of his father, with the in the innocent sense of that word; it purpose of marrying the old gentleman's was his constant maxim, that man was daughter. Old Monsieur Dupaty and

stone.

MARSHAL TURRENE.

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ho the Parisian merchant had, it seems, | crowns, sallies forth for the horse di been educated together, and though so Monsieur St. George, having giza separated by the events of their future previous orders for the burial of life, that they had scarcely seen each friend. It may be here necessary to other for twenty years, they had mutu- mention that, by the regulations ally retained that affectionate remem- Paris, every one was required to : brance not uncommon in like situations. buried within twelve hours after bi The old merchant, whose name is given disease.

TI as Monsieur St. George, had therefore On coming to the house of Monsiee sent an invitation to Monsieur Dupaty, St. George, Turrene ordered the purta to endeavour to unite their families ; to announce his arrival to his master. expressing in the same letter what he “Who am Ito announce, Sir," said would give with his daughter, and what the porter.

ed . he should except the young Dupaty “The Chevalier Dupaty." would bring with him. The letter con. The porter had not lived in the fact cluded, that if old Dupaty agreed to ly for mothing ; he knew the family the proposal, the young Chevalier secrets as well as Monsieur St. George should be sent with a bag of five han- himself. He eagerly, therefore, kas. dred crowns, and the nuptials be forth. tened to announce what he knew to be with concluded.

most agreeable intelligence. “ Have you never seen your intended,

In the meantime Turrere, left by Chevalier ?" said Turrene.

himself in a large parlour, had leisure “Never;" replied the young Dupaty: to look around him, he found himxet

a Nor the old gentleman ; " rejoined in one of those houses, or rather palaces Turene. “ Never my friend;" re-added the merchants. Every thing bespoke the

which belong to the higher order of Chevalier.

wealth of its owner. His rererie was " It will he a singular union then," interrupted by the entrance of the old said Turrene; "but perhaps these things gentleman, who approaching in baste, are not so much the worse for being precipitated himself into the arms of done blind-folded ; fortune may choose Turrene. Turrene returned his en perhaps as well as ourselves." In this conversation between the gentleman-was enraptured at the figure

braces with equal warmth. The old young friends passed the whole inter- of his intended son in-law. He opera val of the journey till their arrival at whelmed him with family questions, to Paris. It was then agreed between the all of which the candid communicato two companions, that they should stop at of his deceased friend had enabled the same Inn. But scarcely had they Turrene to return most satisfacter reached this Inn, and were left alone

answers. He delivered his letters in the chamber, when a very unexpec- The old gentleman read them, ted incident occurred. Dupaty was seized with a violent com «the five hundred crowns which feature

“You have brought then," said be

, plaint in his bowels. Whether arising father bas mentioned in bis letter?". from the journey, or from any other

Turrene replied to this interrogator cause, the disease was so violent,

and by putting the bug into the hands of the instantaneous in its effect, that Turrene old gentleman. had scarcely time to call for help before his companion had expired.

• Good, my young friend," septi

the worthy Monsieur St. Geort permis There is a help for every thing but “Your father, I perceive, is as mees death-Turrene retired to his bed, and man of business as myself. Your revolved the incidents of the day, and soon learn that my fortune, and what his journey Turrene was at an age shall give my daughter, did not requinta when the spirit of mischief is supposed the addition of five hundred crore to predominate. Tarrene rose in the but I was willing that your father should morning, and going to the trunk of the have some share in the happiness of setdeceased Chevalier, the keys of which ting you going. I am a plain white Dupaty had given him previous to young gentleman, your father has die his unhappy catastrophe, he examined his part, and I shall now do mine." the contents; and taking the letters With these words he rang a belli and and the bag containing the five hundred lupon the entrance of a servant, combi

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cled him to summon a priest by a certain not be concluded from the circumstance hour in the same evening. “In the of my death, the money might return

mean tinie you shall go and see my wife safe into the hands of my father. I in and daughter. It is fit that a young must not declare further the secrets of

man should become acquainted with the grave,--suffice it that the last wish his wife.”

of my life was the first of my death. Turrere was accordingly conducted The permission was granted me.-The to the drawing-room, and introduced thing is done, and the money safe.-I : to matronly woman, and a young girl of must now return to be buried. This ve

great beauty, the wife and daughter ry hour is the time appointed for me to of the worthy merchant; who after the enter the grave. Farewell.” ceremony of introduction, left the young With these words, whilst the merChevalier to recommend himself.

chant was fixed in motionless astonishIn this Turrene so effectually succeed- ment, Turrene disappeared, availing ed, that, by the hour of dinner, the la- himself of the darkness of the night, dies had become more than commonly and an obscure turn in the cloisters. satisfied with their new acquaintance. After some moments of mute sur. The good matron looked with pride up. prise the merchant, rubbing his eyes, on the elegant figure and manly accom- looked about him. Turrene, as we plishments of ber intended son, and the bave said, had disappeared. --The mer.

young lady blushed with more mean. chant called, -no one answered. In a E ing, but with equal satisfaction. word the merchant became horror.

Turrene equally recommended him. struck, and recovered himself only to self during the dinner and dessert. hurry home and relate the terrible ad. The merchant almost crossed himself venture to his wife and daughter. with surprise, how his old friend, the Terror has quick steps ; he soon recitizen of Blois, who was a proverb of gained his own door and knocked for niggardly economy, could have given entrance with unusual violence. his son so brilliant an education.

Before the door was opened, a cart It was now becoming late ; the priest with truuks came up to it. The merwas expected.' Turrene, upon a sud. chant demanded from whence it came ? den, rose ; assumed a look of solemni.

“ From the Hotel de Pont Matre." ty, and beckoned the merchant to fol. “From whom there ?" demanded the 1 low him. The merchant, in some sur merchant eagerly. I prize, obeyed.

“ They are the trunks of the young Turrerté descended the stairs, and Chevalier Dupaty," replied the carter. entered the street. The merchant in.

" And where is the young Chevalier quired wbither he was going? Turrene Dupaty ? rejoined the merchant. waved his hand. The merchant, inore

“In his grave by this time," re. astonished, coritinued to follow him.

plied the carter. "The bell of Notre It was the month of December, and Dieu was announcing the burial as I therefore, though the hour was eight left the Inn." in the evening, it was foggy and dark as “What, the Cheralier is really dead midnight. Turrene, holding the mer-then said the merchant, his hair erecchant by the arm, insensibly led him ting itself with increased horror. into the cloisters of the Monastry of the “Yes,” replied the carter, "dead as Benedictines, when, suddenly stopping, Adam. He arrived in the city yester4. My friend,” said he," it is enough, I day afternoon, and died within half an have discharged that for which it was bour afterwards." permitted me to be absent, and must The merchant's door now opened ; now return. Behold in me the Spirit he stayed not to ask another question“. of the young Chevalier Dupaty. I ar- but rushed up to relate to his wife the rived in Paris at the Hotel de Pont Ma circumstances of the apparition. tre, at six o'clock yesterday evening, and died of the cholic about half an Turrene was silent, it was almost gen

The story got about Paris, and as hour after my arrival. I need not tell you that

erally believed that the young Chera. father had entrusted to my lier Dapaty had appeared to the mer

my care a bag of five hundred crowns. My chant St. George, as he has been relata : senses survived my speech, and made

ed. I.e anxious that at the match could

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POETRY.

THE ORPHANS.

A Song.

Thus the callow brood wait for accus

tom'd relief, And the parent birds gladly retur

to their nest, The trees droop and wither, their ver. Till the aim of the fowler has doom'd dure is gone,

them to bleed, The swallow to regions of mildness Then Fate speaks in thunder-the flatis flown ;

terers are torn! The storms of the winter will quickly Thrice blessed are they, who, be. come on,

holding the deed, And the lone orphan's cot o'er the

Leave not misery's offspring to perish village be strewn ;

forlorn ! Its time-moulder'd shelter then who

will restore ? Who fence them from cold, and sup

THE EVE OF HYMEN. ply them with food ? The poor man will turn them in griefTis night, and my Delia now hastens to from bis door,

rest ; Heart-wounded himself-he can do Rapt into sweet visions, I wander alone : them no good.

Love soothes the fond wishes that glor

in my breast, As lately I mark'd where the grey With transports to Wealth, and to Granpointed stone

deur unknown. Gives a simple memoir of the tenant Soft, soft be thy slumbers, dear innocer: below,

Fair ! Some sorrow-breath'd sighs seem'd to Decend smilling Peace on my bosom's prelude this moan,

delight, Which discoverd the plaints of the Hope sheds her pure beams on each children of woe ;

long-nourish'd care, “Oh father, dear father, tho’stretch'd As day brightly dawns on the shadows in that bed,

of night. O'er which the green turf we're so

Reclin'd on her pillow, now mute is that newly remov'd,

voice,

stole: To the Pow'r we submit that has pil. Whese sounds my affection insensibly low'd thy head,

And clos'd are those eyes, in whose * By the hallow'd remains of a mother

beams I rejoice ; belov'd."

And veil'd are those lips, which enrap''To thy axe would the oak of the for ture my soul : est oft yield,

Conceal'd are those cheeks, wliere lurWe have follow'd thy steps, and the

uriantly glow loppings have bound:

The tenderest graces of beauty and We have eagerly ran to the haryest youth afield, And hidden from me is that bosom

Truth And pick'd the scant gleanings that offer'd around ;

The mansion of Purity, Virtue, a But again to thy bidding we cannot she's absent :--yet lovely and gracefi.! comply,

to view, Thy voice can no longer the labour- Kind Fancy restores the fair pride s ers cheer ;

Spring calls forth the verdure of patra The streamlet our cottage runs mourn.

anew,

imper fully by,

Her smiles to the seasons new gle And the tears of sad Autumn discol. No longer soft sorrow my verse ste our the year.”

inspire

long The sadness' of Autumn arcords to their Despondence has clouded my spirits grief,

In extacy sweeping the soul-breathi: It in sympathy soothis, but can bring. lyre, them no resti

| Love, Hymen, and Delia awakea

snow,

my heart

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ORIGINAL PAPERS.

FOR THE EMERALD.

As I have addressed to you as my correspondent from the market of

literature, and am willing to allow THE WANDERER,

you a generous commission of 3 per

cent on the net amount of all artiNo. 79,

cles purchased, I have a right to in

sist on your obeying my orders imWe shall devote this number plicitly, and I now give you directo the letters of our friends.

tions to send by the next convey• Mr. Wanderer,

ance none of your bulky, heavy mat

ters, but a complete assortment of I address you in behalf of a socie- light and fashionable ware suited to ty of young ladies, who have been the seasons. in the habit of taking your paper Yours per favour, ever since the Emerald was estab

GEORGE TRADEALL. lished. We meet, Sir, for conversation and literature, but are not of

P.S. I send for your better infora disposition to be puzzled with long current, to which hope you will

mation an extract from our Prices arguments or dry dissertations; we prefer light reading to historical de

attend. tail, and delight more in sharp re Prices Current in the Literary Market, marks thạn critical accuracy ;...We

Boston. pray you to pay attention in future Moral Essays....... dull and plenty, to our wishes or I shall have orders Levity in great demand; first quali.

ty very scarce, refuse in abundance. to drop the subscription.

Theatrical criticisms....out of season Yours, with esteem,

none at market. CLARA LIGHTHEART, Sec'y. Biography Sir,

History ... ... very dull—no purchasers. I have received your first volume Accidents ... much wanted, none arriv. as per invoice. Light articles are

ed lately. best suited to our market, and I wish

Novels .... very plenty-bear great ad. you to send in future a consignment Marriages .... fashionable-some rare of fashionable small ware rather

sales lately. than heavy bales of argument or Deaths ...... very dull--never tho't of. learning I have carried to the Wit ... a great scarcity-a little of the

choice kind would bear a large price. credit of your account the several articles of humor and pleasantry

To Mr. Wanderer, Bostong. which have occasionally been shipped, but have to debit you with a To Mr. 'Squire Wanderer. heavy loss on those which you You must know, Sir, that I am thought of more sterling value. one of the members of the honour

about par.

vance.

G. T.

VOL. II.

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