"You behold yon Russian army, three times as strong as mine, and which has been encamped three months in sight of us: its General, tranquil at present within his entrenchments, impatiently waits until, forced by famine, I shall surrender myself at discretion.
"Behind my camp are marshes which he thinks impracticable: the moment that it is night, we shall traverse them. I have disposed of every thing in such a manner that the enemy will be deceived, and not perceive my retreat until it is too late. I hope therefore to be able to steal more than an hour"s march upon them, and, if fortune seconds me, perhaps a whole day. I shall advance straight forward to Warsaw by the great road that leads to the capital, notwithstanding the efforts of the little Russian bands who hover continually in its neighbourhood. I shall either encounter and conquer these separately, or, if, they form a junction on purpose to stop my progress, I shall at least be able to occupy their attention in such a manner that they will not be able to impede your operations.
"In the mean time, Lovzinski, you will have preceded me. Your forty followers disguised, and armed only with sabres, poniards and pistols concealed under their clothes, shall have arrived at Warsaw by different roads. You must wait there until the King has left his palace; you are then to carry him off, and to bring him to my camp. The enterprise is bold---rash, if you please so to term it: the march to Warsaw is difficult; the stay in it dangerous; the return from it extremely perilous. If you are vanquished, if you are taken prisoner, you will perish, Lovzinski, but you will perish a martyr to liberty! and Pulaski, jealous of so glorious an end, sighing at being obliged to survive you, shall send Russians, thousands of Russians, to accompany you to the tomb!
"But on the contrary, if an all-powerful Deity; if a G.o.d, the protector of Poland, has inspired me with this hardy project, to terminate her evils; if thy good fortune shall procure a success equal to thy courage, what a glorious prosperity will be achieved by means of this n.o.ble daring!
"M. de P*** will not see in my camp, other than citizen-soldiers, the foes of foreigners, but still faithful to their king: under my patriotic tents, he will respire, as it were, the air of liberty, and the love of his country: the enemies of the state shall become his; our brave n.o.bility, ashamed of their indolence, will readily combat under the royal banners, for the common cause; the Russians shall either be cut in pieces, or be obliged to pa.s.s the frontiers---my friend, in thee thy country shall behold her saviour!" * * * *
Pulaski kept his word. That very night he accomplished his retreat, with equal skill and success, by traversing the marshes in profound silence.
"My friend," said my father-in-law to me, as soon as we were out of the reach of the enemy, "it is now time that you should leave us. I know well that my daughter has more courage than another woman; but she is a tender wife, and an unfortunate mother. Her tears will affect you, and you will lose in her embraces that strength of mind, that dignity of soul, which now becomes more necessary to you than ever: I advise you, therefore, to be gone, without bidding her farewell."
(_To be continued._)
HUMANITY.
As pain is what we are all naturally averse to, our own sensibility of it should teach us to commiserate it in others, not wantonly or unmeritedly to inflict it. But the absurd barbarity of our prejudices and customs often leads us to transgress this rule.--When we are under apprehension that we ourselves shall be the sufferers of pain, we naturally shrink back at the very idea of it: we can then abominate it, we detest it with horror; we plead hard for mercy; and we feel that _we can feel_. But when man is out of the question, humanity sleeps, and the heart grows callous.
INSTANCE OF BENEVOLENCE.
A gentleman, being at Ma.r.s.eilles, hired a boat with an intention of sailing for pleasure; he entered into conversation with the two young men who owned the vessel, and learned, that they were not watermen by trade, but silversmiths; and that when they could be spared from their usual business, they employed themselves in that way to increase their earnings. On expressing his surprise at their conduct, and imputing it to an avaricious disposition; "Oh! sir," said the young men, "if you knew our reasons, you would ascribe it to a better motive. Our father, anxious to a.s.sist his family, sc.r.a.ped together all he was worth; purchased a vessel for the purpose of trading to the coast of Barbary, but was unfortunately taken by a pirate, carried to Tripoli, and sold for a slave. He writes word, that he is luckily fallen into the hands of a master who treats him with great humanity; but that the sum which is demanded for his ransom is so exorbitant, that it will be impossible for him ever to raise it; he adds, that we must therefore relinquish all hope of ever seeing him, and be contented, that he has as many comforts as his situation will admit. With the hopes of restoring to his family a beloved father, we are striving by every honest means in our power, to collect the sum necessary for his ransom, and we are not ashamed to employ ourselves in the occupation of watermen." The gentleman was struck with this account, and on his departure, made them a handsome present.
Some months afterwards the young men being at work in their shop, were greatly surprised at the sudden arrival of their father, who threw himself into their arms; exclaiming, at the same time that he was fearful they had taken some unjust method to raise the money for his ransom, for it was too great a sum for them to have gained by their ordinary occupation. They professed their ignorance of the whole affair, and could only suspect they owed their father"s release to that stranger, to whose generosity they had been before so much obliged.
After Montesquieu"s death, an account of this affair was found among his papers, and the sum actually remitted to Tripoli for the old man"s ransom. It is a pleasure to hear of such an act of benevolence performed even by a person totally unknown to us; but the pleasure is infinitely increased, when it proves the union of virtue and talents in an author so renowned as Montesquieu.
RETROSPECTION.
Happy is it for those who have committed material errors, if they have the inclination and opportunity of seriously reflecting and repenting; but still more happy are those who can (as far as human frailty will permit) look back with satisfaction on their past life, and thus avoid the misery of bitter reflections, which is an almost insupportable addition to the natural calamities of this world. A lady once said to a pious friend, "I should like to die your death, but I should not like to live your life;" meaning, that it was too dull and insipid for her.
_NEW-YORK._
MARRIED,
On Wednesday evening the 2d inst. by the. Rev. Dr. Foster, Mr. CEPHAS ROSS, to Miss MARY BOWMAN, both of this city.
On Sat.u.r.day se"nnight, at Greenwich, by the Rev. Mr. Woodhull, Mr.
NEHEMIAH DENTON, of Brooklyn, (L.I.) to Miss ELIZA BERTIS, daughter of Mr. Peter Bertis of that place.
Same evening, by the Rev. Mr. Strebeck, Mr. MICHAEL SHATZEL, of this city, to Miss BARBARA WOOD, of Harvestraw.
On Tuesday evening last, by the Rev. Mr. Coles, Mr. JAMES MITCh.e.l.l, of Dosoris, to Miss RHODA HALL, daughter of Darius Hall, Esq. of Oak-Neck, Oyster Bay, (L.I.)
On Wednesday evening last, by the Rev. Mr. Phbus, Mr. THOMAS SEAMAN, to Miss ELIZABETH LOWREY, both of this city.
Same evening, by the Rev. Dr. Moore, JACOB HOCHSTRa.s.sER, Esq. of Albany, to Miss ELIZA T. MILLER, of this city.
On Thursday evening, by the Rev. Dr. Foster, GEORGE SIMPSON, Esq. to Miss MARY PENN, both late of England, now of this City.
_METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS._ _From the 13th to the 19th inst._
_Thermometor observed at 6, A.M. 3, P.M._ _Prevailing winds._ _OBSERVATIONS on the WEATHER._
deg. deg. 6. 3. 6. 3.
100 100 Nov. 13 36 50 50 ne sw. clear cloudy, lt. wind calm.
14 47 50 nw. s. cloudy do. light wind do.
15 48 52 75 s. sw. foggy do. lt wd. do. sm. rn.
16 43 43 nw. n. clear do. high wind ditto.
17 26 50 40 ne. e. clear cloudy, light wind do.
18 46 50 50 50 sw s. cloudy cr. do. lt wd. sm. rn.
19 40 56 75 s. do. foggy clear, light wind do.
SONNET TO MARIA.
How oft, dear maid, enamour"d bards have sung, The blooming beauties of their fav"rite fair; Petrarch to Laura"s charms his lyre has strung, And Prior"s muse oft braided Cloe"s hair.
Let others sing the cheek, whose roseate hue Transcends the blushing beauties of the rose, The lip, like cherries dipt in balmy dew, From whence a breath more sweet than violets flows.
Whilst I, a youthful bard, to fleeting fame, And flattery"s menial arts alike unknown; All common-place a.n.a.logy disclaim, Comparing you---unto yourself alone: For who but folly"s sons would needless toil, To place the sterling gem beneath the foil?
_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._