256 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



THE MANSION OF PEACE. 

 As I stood on the hill that o'crlooks the dear cot 

 Where my Kate and my little ones dwell, 

 I said, if the splendor of kings were my lot, 

 I'd prefer my own daisy grown dell. 

 Though humble my wicket, and shatter'd my latch, 

 And the winds my rude lattice have rent, 

 Tliough my mansion is low and all covered with thatch, 

 'Twas the mansion of peace and the home of content. 



Though twelve weary months have now wasted away. 



Since my Kate and my cottage I left. 



Though the hardships of fate I've encountered by day. 



And of sleep I've at night been bereft ; 



Yes oh ! if my Kate and my little ones live, 



Should they smile with the blessing of health. 



The hardships of life I'll forever forgive, 



For in them I've a world full of wealth. 



As I spoke I beheld my love Kate at the door, 



And my little ones played by her side, 



Let the tempest come on, let the wind loudly roar. 



In the moment of madness T cried ; 



No longer I paused in a transport so true, 



For never seem'd mortals so blest, 



To her dear open arms I instantly flew. 



And let those who have hearts speak the rest. 



At eve my dear little ones clang round my knees, 



As I kissed them a thousand times o'er. 



What rapture I cried can be equ.al to these ! 



'Tis heaven alone can give more — 



Though humble my wicket and shattered my latch, 



And the winds my rude lattice have rent, 



I find in my mansion that's covered with thatch, 



Still the mansion of peai • and the home of content. 



MISCELLANY. 



Look not thou upon the liquor when it sparkles, when 

 it " glveth its color in the cup, when it moveth itself 

 aright : at the last it bitcth like a serpent, and stingeth 

 like an adder." t>oLOMON. 



Would you lenrn how like a serpent drunken- 

 ness bitelii and how like an adder itstingelh, — 

 then contemplate the disgusting figure and the 

 (leploralde circumstances ot' Silcnus. — Beliold 

 this miserable wreck ol'a man ! — He is not yet 

 turned of forty, yet iolters in his steps, like one 

 of four score — Sec hiin weakened in inlellcct, 

 morose in temper, lost lo all sense either ol 

 honour or shame, lost lo all afiection towards the 

 wife of his bosom and the children of his own 

 hody. — Mark the stupidity of his countenance, 

 the morose aspect of his blood shotten eyes, his 

 palsied hand, and the leprous tetter that covers 

 his skin. — Turn now and behold his wife — there 

 she sits in that corner, covered with a thin tat- 

 tered robe and shivering over a han<lful of coals. 

 — See her pale and emaciated — her eyes dim 

 with weeping and her cheeks furrowed with 

 tears — Hapless woman ! who can but pity thee? 

 who can but mingle his tears with thine? — Look 

 next on those suffering children. — They re- 

 ceive nought but iVowns and curses and blows 

 from the man whom they had been taught lo 

 call by the endearing name of father; yet they 

 have n I'riend whose bosom throbs with tender- 

 ness towards them ; but her hand is too feeble 

 to supply their needs. — They ask their mother 

 for bread, but she has none to break for them. 

 — The storm howls through the broken ivindows 

 and they say, '' we are cold ?" she answers them 

 only with sighs. Alas! she has none to bind up 



her own bleeding heart. — And is this the once 

 sensible and sprightly Silenus, fortune's child, 

 who inherited a large patrimonial estate, whose 

 pockets were lined with gold ? — Is that too the 

 once gay and beautiful Fhilenia, the delight of 

 her parents, the joy and the life of the social cir- 

 cle ? — Is this the pair that commenced the connu- 

 bial state with prospects the met flattering? — 

 The same. — "How fallen, how lost !"' And what 

 has wrought this terrible reverse in their circum- 

 stances ? What has turned this man into a 

 brute ? What has plunged this woman into the 

 deepest distress, insomuch that her tears are 

 her meat? What has rendered these children 

 miserable ? What fend has poisoned and des- 

 troyed the happiness of thi.s whole family! — 

 That cursed fend is drunkenness — Time was 

 when Silenns was a kind husband and an affec- 

 tionate father, when his company gladdened 

 the heart of his wife, when his little prattlers 

 used to meet him at tlie door and received his 

 fond caresses. — Time was when every room in 

 this mansion was gilded with domestic happiness, 

 when he ranked in society as a useful member and 

 an ornament, and when the eye that saw him, 

 blessed him, and the ear that heard him was 

 respectfully attentive. — But Silenus looked on 

 the sparkling liquor, while giving its colour and 

 temptitigly moving itself in the cup. — he tasted, 

 he at length tippled daily ; the habit became 

 riveted — he plunged occasionally into intoxica- 

 tion, and i'rom occasional intoxication, he at 

 last became a downright sot — His estate is 

 consumed, and of all poor people, his family 

 are among the most wretched. — " Dig they can- 

 not," having never been taught to labor — >' to 

 beg they are ashamed" — This is not a romance : 

 — there are many families in our country, whose 

 deplorable situation corresponds with this de- 

 scription. — Con. Courant. 



A WOMAN CAN KEEP A SECRET. 

 Tilt following nnecdole uill prove the fallacy of the 

 remark, that " a Woman, cannot keep a secret." 

 Some years since, a lady called at a glover's 

 shoj) in the outskirts of the town, and purchased 

 a [lair of gloves for her immediate wear ; observ- 

 ing, at the same time, .<he was on her road (o 

 Burnet — that she had left her gloves at her 

 friend's house, where she had called, and that 

 she was apprehensive of being benighted if 

 she went back fi.r them. The glover titled on 

 Ihe gloves ; and the lady, after paying lor them 

 from a purse well stocked with bank notes, 

 stepped into her post chaise, and proceeded on 

 her journey. She had scarcely reached Finch- 

 ley Common, when a highivayman slop])ed the 

 chaise, and demanded her money. He intreat- 

 ed her not lo be alarmed, as he had no intention 

 upon her person — if she surrendered her pro- 

 perly, it was all he wanted, declaring, that dis- 

 tress, and not his will urged him to this desper- 

 ate act, and he was determined to remove his 

 penury, or perish. The lady gave her purse, 

 and the desperado rode olV. 



After he was gone, and the fright had subsid- 

 ed, the lady imagined, that, in the address of 

 the highwayman, she recognized the voice of 

 the glover she had just before dealt with. This 

 conceit struck her so I'orcibly, that she orilered 

 ibe post-boy to drive back to town— not choosing, 

 <bc said, to venture further over the heath. — 

 On her arrival at the glover's she knocked and 

 gained admittance, the glover himself opening 



li- 



the door. The lady desired to speak with 1 

 in private. The glover shewed her to a b; 

 parlour; when she exclaimed, " I am come 

 my purse, of which you robbed me this even 

 on Finchly Common !" — The glover was c 

 tounded ; and the lady proceeded — " It is ol 

 use for you to deny it : lam convinced, 

 your life is at my mercy. Return me my ] 

 perty, and trust to my humanity." — The glo' 

 overcome with guilt, shame and confusion, 

 turned the purse, confessed the crime, 

 pleaded his distress. The lady, after suit; 

 admonition, gave him a ten pound note, b 

 him mend his way of life, and keep his ( 

 counsel: adding that she would never divi 

 his name or place of abode. She kept 

 word : and, though the robbery was statet 

 the public papers, the discovery was omitt 

 and it was not until very recently, that a r 

 ute of this singular transaction was found am 

 the papers of the lady alluded to: Even 

 this private memorandum, the name and i 

 dence of the glover was omitted ; and the se< 

 in that particular, rests with the lady in 

 grave. 



Alter this tale, the truth of which may b( 

 lied on, who will say that a woman cannot 1 

 a secret? 



ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN. 



There is no one thing that is so irnporta> 



a young man that is just entering on the sta) 



life, as the choice of company ; every ihii 



a great measure depends upon that. The < 



ing rakes and dissipated fops may have the, 



lurenjents, but above all things, young mei 



ware of them. They entice but to ruin, as 



who is weak enough to be led into their m 



may he sure of meeting with nothing but d4 



poinlment, chagrin and the loss of health 



an empty purse. — Therefore, it is of the g 



est consequence, to choose suitable compa< " 



to associate with. / 



Many imagine that they shall not be conM 



i ed gentlemen without they swear roundly, <il 



down their boUie of wine, and smoak Iheirdi 



ofsegars at a silting ; but mislaken young 



beware how you indulge yourselves in snclw 



nicious practices; for depend upon it, ifyoi 



led on thus by degrees into vice, your fame- 



i tune and health, will pay dear for your I 



I In drwthen revels, and nuisij curciisals, youi| 



I make the moments of time apjiear lo paslj^i 



j swiftness, but recollect that every fleetiB(§| 



ment brings you nearer to that bourneS 



I whence no traveller returns. M." 



! Idleness. — Epaminoudas, Prince of Tipi 

 j had such hatred for idleness, that finding if 

 ! his captains asleep in the day time, he sle^ 

 I For which act, being reproved by his nobB 



replied, " 1 left him as I i"ound him ;" tht 



paring idle men to dead men. 



TER.MS OF THE FAKMLK 

 0:^ Published every Saturday, at Thbek Di 

 per annum, payable at the end of the year — 

 who pay within sixlj/ days from the time of siibi 

 will be entitled to a deduction of P'lfTV C'EBTfc 

 (J:5= No paper will oe discontiiiuid (unless i 

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JOB PRINTING '' 



At short notice and fair prices, at the Farraei»C' 



