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A subscription paper is put in circulation by the fire department for the purpose of obtaining money to be applied for the benefit of the widow and child of the deceased.

For the Magnolia.

The Effect of Knowledge upon Society.
Knowledge is power.-Lord Bacon.

The diffusion of Knowledge is the means by which the human race can arrive at the state for which our maker destined it. It is the only medium through which those shades can be dissipated which have so long enveloped mankind. This almost impenetrable barrier that has for ages presented its broad front to the world, can in no other way be razed from its foundations and demolished.

Ignorance from time immemorial has had its followers, and perhaps more loyal subjects were never seen. The iron sceptre has never yet been wrenched from its hand; but with the grasp of a lion it has clung to its prey till its yoke is borne with pleasure, and preferred to the tiara of the erudite, and the diadems of sages and philosophers. An extended sway is still in its possession-it continues to trample upon the necks of countless numbers; and how few there are that have extricated themselves, compared with the innumerable host over whom its relentless tyranny is exercised. Century after century has passed off the stage of action, enshrouded in the thick mists of superstition and idolatry plunged in all the vices and profligacy immaginable-rolling in luxury and affluence unrestrained by the laws of morality or religion.

With what a thrill of horror do we contemplate the scenes transacted under regal government in the time of an Alexander, a Hanibal, a Scipio, and others whose names have been transmitted to us. Cruelties and inhumanities that we shonld be inclined to disbelieve, were it not for the strict regard historians had for the truth, are depicted upon every page of history. The murdering of infants-the immolating of men upon altars dedicated to their gods-the torturing of prisoners, all tend to show us the almost extricable abyss of ignorance into which those who lived at that time were sunk. A culti vated mind would have raised them from their degraded condition, and restrained them in their ierocious acts; it would have taught them, instead of appeasing their gods by the slaughter of human beings, to appease their own consciences by acting justly and generously. Instead of paying adoration to images

which their own hands created, they would spurn polytheism as a debusing, grovelling religion, calculated only to rivet the chains of illiteracy stronger and stronger. It is true such visions greet not our eyes in this agewe do not behold the triumphal entry of the conqueror, with captive kings to grace his chariot-we do not witness the beastly feats of the palaestra and circus; but it is through the influence of learning that we have been led to consider them as belonging rather to irrational beings than man, and as ill comporting with the high dignity an intellectual being ought to assume,

By reverting to past ages, we are led more fully to appreciate our own advantages, and to realize the high and important station which we occupy. With what interest do we

look back to the days when the pilgrim fathers, animated by the love of liberty crossed the trackless ocean, and moored their barks upon the wild New England shore, where they might enjoy the freedom of thought, unmo lested by the petty jealousies which distracted the land they left. Then it was that the sun of liberty began to dawn upon this benighted continent, and spread its enlivening beams far and wide, and with it, knowledge arose, as if by the power of magic, from the long slumber of ages, to shed its benign influence over the community, and illume the earth.

No proof can be advanced more conclusive, and that will serve to illustrate the principle laid down, that Improvement in Society is only through knowledge, than that which our own country affords. Compare the present state of society in America with all its refinement and elegance to that which prevailed in the infancy of this great republic, and an astonishing difference will be perceived. Old things have indeed passed away, and all things have become new ;" and how shall we account for this wonderful change except we admit the fact, that cultivated minds are the grand and sole authors of these mighty changes. If some fifty years ago, our fathers had intimated that this country would one day stand upon the lofty eminence which she now occupies, it would have been considered as the idle whim of a distempered mind. So rapid, and so effectual has this revolution been brought about, that the man of three score years ean hardly credit it. The mind, instead of being confined within the narrow circle which pristine ignorance discribed, has gone out into the boundless ocean of truth to search for new discoveries, and to return and publish them to the world-to raise the standard of

lated to raise the humam species to a state of superior excellence: that is, the religion of him who formed us rational and immortal

revelation to man be disseminated, and its requisitions be understood, and the church of Rome must totter from its base. The infernal inquisition and rack must be swept from the face of the earth; the hellish designs, deceptions, and practices of the officers must be exposed to the public eye, invested in their true form, which perhaps would be more appalling to the sight than we are aware of; for where ignorance is, there only can its doctrines flourish. Infidelity would be rooted out from its strong holds, and exterpated from the land as a capricious whim. Every unscriptural theory would vanish before the blazing light of truth, and all nations under the whole heavens bow down before the One F. M. Immutable and Eternal God,

But there is another object not inferior to science and diffuse a lively interest through society. any that have been mentioned, that would be But when we look upon the other side of promoted to a great extent, and in fine, the this fair picture, we find not a little to dis-only object, (comparatively speaking) that is courage, and incline us to believe it is an im-worthy to be sought for, and which is calcupossible task, and more than in vain to attempt to bring the whole human race under instruction. How many there are that congratulate themselves upon the general diffusion of know-beings. Let the knowledge of that blessed ledge, while there are so many barren spots -so many fields that are yet uncultivated, and have not received any benefit from the light of science. How many are apt to flatter themselves that the work is done, and lie down inactive, when this noble enterprize is but just began-when a few straggling rays of light have shot through the gloom that hange over us, only to show us more clearly the situation we are in, and to lead us to labor with increased exertion and untiring zeal till every corner of the globe is enlightened, and supplied with the means of information. Should this ever be the case, what a change would there be in the aspect of things-what a renovation would ensue. Political jargon and strife would be abolished; amity and friendship substituted in its place. No longer would political demagogues spread their infectious principles to corrupt the minds of a people unenslaved by ignorance, but genuine patriotism would urge them forward in a career of usefulness-the goal would be their country's welfare and prosperity; would no more devastate the land, and destroy its thousands of human beings; weapons of war would be converted into agricultural implements, and the minds of the whole human race turned to some higher, nobler object; the rancorous enmities now existing between nations would be done away, and the banner of peace hung out in every island in the ocean; every port would be thrown open to the ingress and egress of vessels; commercial ships would be unlading in all countries, and supplying them with the produce of their climes.

wars

Government

For the Magnolia.

The Brother's Return.
Oh, thou art chang'd! in vain 1 seek to trace,
One lingering look, that thy sweet boyhood wore;
One playful smile that time will not efface,
From my fond memory's, treasur'd, sadden'd store.

And this-even this, hath din'd with strange regret,
My present joy, but oh! forgive my tears;
Thy sunny youth, my heart cannot forget,
And memory shrinks from the sad change of years.
And yet, full well I knew thou couldst not be,
The same bright being of thy childhood's day,
Whose laughing eye and merry bursts of glee,
Whir'd the long hours of wintry eve away.,

Thy cheek hath lost its youthful ruddy glow,
And o'er thy brow is written marks of thought;
And yet I would not weep could I but know,
That absence in thy heart no change hath wrought.

Convince me by thine eyes full tenderness,
Thy soul can feel no change, but loves me yet;
Then will my heart rise in sweet thankfulness,

Married,

C. D.

When that day shall be ushered in, then - can it be truly said that we are an enlightened, And with it joy shall mingle no regret. intelligent people, and you might as well attempt to turn the earth from its course as to expect to effect by any other means than the diffusion of knowledge. expences would also decrease, as there would be no need of a standing army-no navy to protect us against the incursions of enemies, And to draw upon the public revenue for their support; and by that means our public coffer would always be fuil for internal improvement and social enjoyment.

At the Friends Meeting House, in Chatham, on the 7th iust. Mr. Wesley Finch, to Miss Maria Coffin, daughter of the late Capt. Uriah Coffin, all of the above place.

Died,

At Athens, on Saturday last, Mason Benjamin, aged 53.

In Ghent, on the 24th inst. Wait Demming in the 534 year of his age.

For the Magnolia.

The Consumptive.

Why do I linger? hath not the autumnal flowers,
Which spread their fragrance through my lonely room,
All sunk beneath stern winter's chilling powers,
Nipt in their bright and blossoming perfume.

The vine clad hills, the late green sunny fields,
Hath changed their hue, their freshness now hath past;
No more the trees their ripened treasures yield,
While through their branches roars the wintry blast.

I feel no more the joyous hopes of youth,
No kindred hearts, no early friends are near,
They too, have pass'd away or lost their truth,
All! all, are changed, why do I linger here?

Sweet flowers of Autumn, why like you,
Did I not perish at the first rude breath,

Of a cold world? and thus while life was new,
Unconscious of its winter, sink to death'

For the Magnolia.

A TALE.

By Gustavus Adolphus Lovelace, Gent.

C. D.

Without our hopes, without our fears, Without the home that plighted love endears, Without the smile from partial beauty won, Oh! what were man? A world without a sun. Campbell.

Sir

On the northern shore of the Thames, about seven miles from the metropolis, are to be seen the remains of a castle, once the property of one of England's haughtiest Lords. Christopher Oswald happening to be of noble extraction, stood aloof from all the peers in the neighborhood, maintaining a demi-court at the magnificent castle above mentioned. His only confidant and greatest friend was Arthur Dunlap, Esq. an elderly gentlemen, but wealthy withal, residing in a beautiful chateau on the other side of the river; in fine, so strong was the friendship of these two old cronies, that each entered into a voluntary compact, by which Mr. Dunlap consented to bestow his infant and only daughter Rose, upon his (Sir Christopher's) infant and only son Henry, when each should become of proper age.

The young ones grew up, and received the first rudiments of education together; and such was their mutual affection, that there seemed to be no danger of their thwarting the wishes of the old ones.

Indeed nature seemed tired of having her own way, and yielded for once to the management of a couple of wise ones.

Rose Dunlap at sixteen, was the acknowledged belle of every party which she gladdened with her presence. Her father had taken great care of her education; and apart from her natural beauty, such was the happy

expression of her countenance, that she was truly one of those who draw forth admiration without effort, and never move but to please. To Henry, who had made a formal acknowledgement of his passion, her love was ardent and unceasing. But he was soon to leave her having finished his studies at home, he went to the University.

From this place she had frequent letters from him, though, by the by, expressly against the orders of the Reverend President, who held, that any communication with the sweeter part of the creation during term time, was a dereliction of duty, ill befitting a student of Cambridge.

For four years affairs went on swimmingly, at the end of which, Oswald miraculously came off with the first honors, nothing less than which would have satisfied the ambitious mind of the father. On his arrival at the castle the old man embraced him with true paternal affection, gave a holiday to all his servants, and a rich feast in the evening. Henry Oswald was accompanied on his return by a young Spaniard of a powerful family, who received the same welcome as the son, having been his chum at the University. Don Ricardo was a young man of superior eduestion and accomplishments, but when thwarted, of a fiery and irritable temper which rarely failed of accomplishing its object. From the moment he saw Rose, he began to form schemes to possess her; but being informed of her destination for Oswald, his brow darkened, for he had sworn to be his friend ; yet, thinking that "all was fair in love," he determined to accomplish his object. An occurrence which took place a few days after, gave him an opportunity better to prosecute his plans. Sir Christopher was called to France on business of importance, which, on account of his advanced age, he confided to Oswald as his representive, besides this, he thought a short journey would improve the boy's health after having been for four years immured within the walls of a college. He set sail therefore, and the field seemed to Ricardo to be left perfectly clear. He was received at Dunlap's with great cordiality, and determined to profit by this advantage to obtain the consent, if nof the daughter of the father, which is the same thing to a Spaniard; but he soon despaired of success from this quarter, for the old man told him plainly that had disposed of his daughter irretrievably. Foiled in this part of the undertaking, he had recourse to every act of which he was master, to gain the affections of the fair one; but all

n vain. Neither did the nightly serenade, nor the open avowal of "how much he endured," furnish aught but amusement to Rose, who detested alike his arts and pretensions. Burning with rage, he departed to make use of means which should prove more effective. A few evenings afterwards, Rose was walking with a female friend in a little open park bordering on the Thames. The moon shone just as usual in clear nights, while nothing could be more refreshing than the hardly perceptible breeze which just rippled the calm surface of the river. All at once they heard the sound of a carriage which was approaching them at its utmost speed. It stopped when just against them, and a man leaping out, with the assistance of the footman, had forced Rose into it, and was out of sight before her companion had recovered from the first shock of terror. When she did so, she hastened to the house with all possible expedition. The family were very much alarmed at her narration, though of the man she could give no description, but was sure he was an outlaw, a kidnapper, a sccond Robin Hood, or somebody else; and could she have described him, the description springing from her distorted imagination, would doubtless have been like Fenelon's caricature of the Cyclps.

"Geans monstreux qui devorent les hommes.” Be that as it may, mounted grooms were despatched in every direction to recover their young mistress, while the young lady was bled and put to bed, and prescribed a profound dose

of camomile. But where was Rose all this time

On finding herself in the carriage with Ricardo, (for you all suspect it was he,) the first thing of course was to scream most violently, and the next to swoon away, which she did so effectually, that at the end of three leagues, she lay still senselesss in the arms of the Don.

They now entered upon a mountainous tract and ascended a very high hill. The retarded motion of the carriage aroused our heroine from her swoon who began scream

ing murder on so high a key that the heart of the honest Welch postillion misgave him, and at the top of the hill he determined to proceed no further under such suspicious circumstan

ces.

the integrity of the postillion, who resolutely declared “hur widna do hur honor's bidding." He ordered his footman to pull him from his situation and supply his place himself, but the application of the leathern thong, from the brawny arm of the Welchman whenever he attempted to approach, set the valet to dancing minuets so effectually, that he had no time for anything else. The Don writhed on beholding these movements. "Coward," said he, "seize the reins and hold them fast, I will dislodge the varlet," at the same time leaping from the carriage, with cocked pistol in hand, he frightened the poor fellow from his seat, who at the sight of fire arms, jumped from his position and ran into the woods. Ricardo mounted the box and took possession of the lines, while our heroine lay motionless in the bottom of the coach, having by her screams frightened herself into another swoon. But now the valet confessing that he never drove a coach, the Don was forced to drive himself, and ordered the valet to close the coach docr which he had forgotten to do in his hurry. But our heroine coming to berself about this time, and seeing the only door of hope about to be closed, sprang out in spite of the valet, at the same time screaming so violently, that the horses took fright, and ran down the mountain with all convenient haste, leaving the valet in a most pitiable condition, the coach wheel having passed over him and broken his thigh. But the ear of our heroine was not now open to the cry of distress for she left the poor fellow in the gutter, and ran towards home with so much speed, that she was soon exhausted, and was just ready to

To the Don, who dreaded pursuit, every instant this was adding fuel to the fire. He first promised great rewards it he would proceed, then threatened; but finding that he was losing time, and that nothing would move

sink, when two of her father's grooms in pursuit, came up and conveyed her immediately home, where it was three days before she recovered so far as to give an account of her forced elopement. But to return to Ricardo. The horses became entirely unmanageable,and rushed down the steep, leaving fragments of the coach in their path, while the Don was thrown out and left senseless near the foot of the mountain.

When he recovered his senses, he found

himself in a magnificent apartment, a beautiful girl was bathing his temples. He very

soon recovered, and it was evident that his affection was transferred from Rose to his lovely Physician. He asked her name, and paint his surprise when she avowed herself the only sister of Oswald, then residing with her aunt. He wrote immediately to Oswald, informing him of all that had happened, and asked his consent to marry his sister, also wishing him

to return to England as soon as possible. He
concluded thus," I have not yet informed her
of my elopement with your intended cara
sposa, as I wish you to tell it with your usual
eclat, on the nuptial night," Oswald soon re-
turned, embraced his blushing bride and for-
gave his friend. The double marriage was
celebrated with tokens of happiness, and the
old castle resounded with festivity.
Pine Orchard, Dec. 1833.

Curing the Hysterics.

as usual in pacifying her fears, and left her en -
Joying a sound and refreshing sleep. He had
hardly arrived at home, drenched through
with the rain which was falling in torrents,
and got into a warm and comfortable bed, when
he was awakened by a loud rap at the door,
and a voice without, begging him to get up in
a moment, as one of his neighbors was dying
and needed his assistance. Half asleep and
half awake, he sprung from the bed, and ran
to the door to enquire which of his neighbors
was in so dangerous a situation. On opening
the door he was surprised and chagrined to
learn that the dying neighbor was Miss Sally
Strickland-that after he had left her, an hour
or two before, she was suddenly taken down
again and had sent him to hasten his return,
and to tell him that unless he came quick he
The messenger
would not see her alive.
urged him to get ready as soon as possible, and
in the meantime he would get his horse and
sulkey up and have them ready at the door.
The doctor, worn out by repeated calls, and
fatigued with his previous visit, hesitated-he
finally decided on going, determined to make
an end of the job by either killing or curing.

Most of us have witnessed more or less of the effects of that strange and inveterate disease, the hysterics, and many of us who are not physicians, have been called to see the odd freaks of those laboring under the influence of this unpleasant, though often laughable malady. Perhaps no disease in the whole catalogue is more stubborr, and less willing to yield to a proper and judicious course of medication than this; and probably nothing in the whole routine of a physician's practice calls for the exercise of more patience than the oddities and eccentricities of a woman, particularly an old maid, afflicted with the hysterics. Perhaps also, a greater requisition was never made upon the patience of a physician, than was in a case which sometime since happened in a neighboring town. A maiden lady by the name of Sally Strickland, who some ten or fifteen years ago doubled cape thirty, without being hailed, and much less ordered to heave to, was attacked with the hysterics, and occasionally supposed herself dying. These fits almost invariably seized her in the night, and frequently at a late hour, or during a severe storm. But notwithstanding the hour of the night, or the inclemency of the weath-lution was approaching it might terrify her er, some one must immediately post off for the family physician, a humorous and facetious gentleman wholived some two or three miles from the residence of Miss Sally, as she was called by the juniors of her sex.

On his arrival he put on a gloomy and ghastly countenance, said but little, and that very solemnly, and in all respects appeared more like a stranger from another world, than the humorous and agreeable family physician, On entering the room of Sally she noticed the countenance of the doctor, and discovered that something was preying upon his spirits, as he did not appear with his wonted cheerfulness. She inquired of him the cause of his gloom and depression, and begged him to unbosom his mind fully and freely, as it would probably be the last opportunity he would have. He told her it would be improper under existing circumstances; that as the time of her disso

and hasten the time of her departure. She entreated him to keep nothing from her, though it might relate to herself, for she was desirous of knowing the worst of her case, and was prepared to meet it, be it what it might. He still declined disclosing the cause of his melancholy, and insisted that her remaining strength was insufficient to sustain the shock which it must necessarily produce; and beg

The physician, ever ready to obey the calls and to administer to the wants of suffering humanity, was, for several nights in succession, called out of his bed to visit Sally, who supposed herself to be dying. The kind heart-ged her to turn her thoughts to another and ed Doctor prescribed for the body, and endeavored to quiet and sooth the mind of his patient. He assured her there was nothing alarming in her case; that he had attended numerous cases precisely like hers, and never failed of a cure, and that if she would give herself rest, by banishing the fear of death, and give him an opportunity to make some trifling repairs on her shattered constitution he would ensure her a complete and speedy recovery.

Though this mode of treatment would operate as an anodyne during his presence, yet the moment his back was turned, she would relapse into her former state, and before he had time to get home, another messenger would be after him, with the old story that Miss Sally Strickland was dying.

One cold stormy night the doctor had been called to see Miss Sally, and had succeeded'

more appropriate subject. Though Sally
supposed herself dying, yet she was unwilling
to die without having her curiosity gratified,
and she therefore the more strongly importun-
ed the doctor to keep her no longer in sus-
After getting her curiosity and imag-
pense,
ination on tip toe, he consented. He said,
when the messenger came last for him he was
in a sound sleep, and was dreaming that he
was in the world of woe-that Beelzabub him-
self was conducting him to the various rooms
of the prison of despair for the purpose of
showing him their arrangement-that in pas-
sing the door of a room in which several young
satans lodged, he saw them jumping and skip-
ping about, making a great noise and appa-
rently in high glee-that Beelzabub noticing
it, told them to go to bed and be quiet; that
on not obeying his orders cheerfully and read
ily, he stamped tremendously on the floor and

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