she was always much worse after his visits than before. He was not
o( a disposition to conciliate by his kindness, but of the contrary.
V he first thing that interested my attention upon entering the hospital
over the mantlepiece of a highly furnished library, arranged with
the best authors, was a portrait representing a beautiful female,
half clothed, whose large black eyes, which once emitted love
and intelligence, ready to start from their sockets, and whose fea-
tures were once beautiful now distorted.
I inquired if it represented
any wretched inmate of the hospital ; I was informed it was a fancy
piece. I thought it quite unnecessary to have recourse to fancy when
there were so many realities to excite the strongest sympathy. The
great humanity with which the invalids that have recourse to the sick
department, reflect great credit on the hospital — care is taken to re-
store them — they are permitted to leave the hospital when they think
proper. If the friends of the unfortunate inmates would, with the
consent of the faculty, remove their friends on a return of reason,
however short the intervals, to some cheerful place, and engage them
in a lively manner, so as to detach them from a retrospective view,
there would be many miserable beings which now live and die deprived
of one of the greatest of blessings, a sound mind and a brilliant un-
derstanding. My sympathy was much excited for those practitioners
at the bar, who, before their minds had become prostrated, or during
the painful process in passing through such a fiery ordeal to unhinge
the links of a once well regulated mind, the conflict must be more
painful than one of a more ordinary cast. I felt more for those law-
yers. My attention was directed to a beautiful girl of eighteen, that
had been immured within its gloomy walls for two years, whose name
was Caroline Little ; she was the daughter of a widow lady of that
city, her father had been a capital merchant. She had, before
that fatal passion, love, which, without the aid of reason and expe-
rience, which has caused thousands of the credulous to recipro-
cate with the deceitful and treacherous part of the other sex, who,
after sporting with the feelings of a fond female has abandoned them
to despair — -such had been the case of this beautiful and unfortunate
girl. Previous to her derangement she was a valuable member of
the Methodist church ; a serpent, similar to the one which beguiled
Eve, under the sacred name of their pastor, insinuated himself into
her credulous heart, deserted it as if it were a worthless thing. He
did not, like his Divine master whose disciple he professed to be, who
would not break the bruised reed or quench the smoaking flax — but
after engaging her affections left her a wreck of her former self, and
a fit subject for a lunatic hospital. The punishment inflicted upon
him was suspension and a denial of preaching the sacred gospel which
he had polluted with his hypocritical lips, and disgraced the cloth he
wore. I found her rational, and, no doubt, had been intelligent. I
recommended to her to banish, if possible, every painful retrospective,
and to obtain some strength of mind, and, if her physicians would
permit her, to return to her friends, and, above all, to select some
other object to supply and fill the chasm in her heart as the best
means of obliterating all painful retrospections. If I had the man-
agement of her care she would be restored to reason in a short time.
I next went to see West's painting, which he describes with great
accuracy, which Christ performed in the temple in healing all manner
of diseases. They are portrayed as large as life. 1 will endeavor
to give a discription of some of the most interesting. The first ob-
ject on which I fixed my attention was the Saviour as far as the hu-
man imagination can conceive. West had arrayed all those acts of
mercy which the scripture describes he performed while on earth.
On one hand stands the Saviour, his countenance beaming with benev-
olence who looked to him for relief; his loved disciple John on the
right separating him from the high priests, as if the touch of their
garments would pollute those in which the Saviour were arrayed, a
countenance representing the blackness of their hearts gnashing
him with their teeth. On the left were his disciples, as large as life,
executed in such inimitable accuracy they appeared to move as if
they had life and being; one scene represented an aged mother labor-
ing under long affliction with the palsy, borne along in the crowd by
her affectionate sons, whose sorrowful hearts were evinced by then-
tears. A little above was a lunatic, whose bald head and distorted
countenance, eyes ready to start from their sockets, with him his af-
fectionate and sympathising sisters endeavoring, as far as their feeble
strength would permit, to support his body, pointing out to him the
Saviour. A sufferer carried on a bed. A blind daughter carried to
him by her father, the daughter more beautiful, though blind, than
any one I ever saw. A mother with her sick and suffering child in
her arms. A woman bowed down to the earth with her infirmity,
endeavoring to make her way through the dense crowd, the extraor-
dinary power of delineating that which faith alone could have repre-
sented to him, for he had no model but the scriptures. There have
been many small representations taken from the original.
I conclude these remarks by giving a discription of Harper's Ferry
and the White Sulphur Springs. Mr. Jefferson in his remarks on
Virginia, observed it was worth a voyage across the Atlantic to visit
Sweet sc?nns of beauty, bold and fair,
So pleasing to the sight,
Where lofty hills their ramparts rear
On nature's loftiost height.
There the fair stream of Potomac glides,
With Shenandoah unites ;
They both combine with equal force
The stubborn hills to fight.
What grand concussion there took place, .
Remains impressed around,
The awful conflict there is seen,
In daring marks 'tis found.
Till victory did the cause decide,
Bold Potomac claimed the d*Vy ;
Majestic on the stream doth glide,
And empties in the bay. ,
Having visited the White Sulphur Springs last summer, which may
be truly called the fountain of health, I offered to the public this tri-
bute of respect to its owner.
Come all you who thirst for the water of life,
Whether father, son, fair daughter or wife,
Come drink at this fountain, you will certainly find,
R-lief to the body as well as the mind.
For the man who to day does but totter along,
By drinking it freely will soon become strong.
The wife that is losing her beauty and charms,
Will return with new life to her husband's fond arms.
The cheek of the lass that was blooming and red,
Will receive here again the bright roses that fled.
The sweet little child, his father's dear boy,
Who no health from his earliest birth could enjoy,
Begins like the lambkin to sport and to play,
And chase from his mother dull sorrow away.
And thousands its power have had,
Whom the doctors have since consigned to the grave.
It bestows its blessings alike upon all,
Fits the old for their chat, and the young for the ball,
Where the lover may dance with the lover of his heart,
And hymen shall whisper they never shall part.
It was once observed by a poet, that women were only qualified to
nurse fools, and retail slander ; but he never dreamed that the
matchless talents of a De Stael, lady Morgan, and Miss Edgeworth,
would deck the diadem of literature with its most brilliant gems ;
make the temple of the muses fit for the reception of the graces, and
cloth the barren field of female authorship with the flowery and pictu-
resque foliage of sublime sentiment and exalted feeling, flourished in
graphic elegance of diction ; as refined as ever love conceived the
names of these unrivalled ladies, the glory of their own sex, and the
admiration of ours, will be embalmed in immortality, and retain to
the latest time, their mystical influence, that will conjure up the pleas-
ing and endearing recollections in every mind, the countless ex-
pansion and versatility of intellect, illuminated the writings of
Madam De Stael and Miss Porter, have filled America with ad-
miration. The splendid productions of Miss Edgeworth have enriched
English literature with as pure and sparkling ore, as philosophy
could raise out of an inexhaustable mind. There is all the various
sympathies and feelings that govern and direct the passions of hu-
manity in the work of Lady Morgan. We find every subject array-
ed in the seducive charms of sentimental sorcery, and rendered still
more attractive, by the graceful drapery of flowery diction in the ro-
mantic enthusiasm of patriotism, in the passion and energy that dis-
tinguished her vindication of her country, in the magnificence of style;
and for the vivid portraiture of Irish character. She is eminently supe-
rior to Miss Edgeworth. On reading her Itala, we were astonished by
the bright effulgence of her views, the power of her descriptions.,
and the philosophic musings, and wrapt conceptions which pervade
the pages of that celebrated work, a work which, while it fills
the sceptred despot of the Valley Alliance with terror, drew forth from
Lord Byron the memorable and laudable compliment, which our fair
countrywomen prises more highly than all the imperial commenda-
tions Caesar could bestow upon their everlasting favorites. I com-
passionate the tasteless critic, who is not delighted with the beauty of
her style, and the glowing of her sentiments, where she touches,
the affections and passions of flie human heart. Her pages are
fraught with that impassioned eloquence which impresses upon her
compositions the seal of rapturous enchantment, and enlarges our
ideas and sensibilities over minds, while it strengthens those bonds of
philanthrophy that bind us to our fellow-creatures. The power of
woman in this literary age is become as potent from intellectual in-
fluence, as she was formally from personal attraction ; still we grant,
that even in ancient times those women who governed the hearts and
understanding of men, with the most unbound sway, owed then-
powers less to beauty, and the charms of youth, than to the strength
of mind and cultivation of talent. A woman without elegance, perso-
nal exterior, without the polish of accomplishments, is like a flower
without fragrance. Aspacia possessed neither youth or beauty. When
Socrates became her admirer, and imbibed the principles of philoso-
phy of love, and her charms were faded ; when Athens was gov-
erned by her decrees, through the medium of Princes Corinna, of
whose talents we read so much, and of whose beauty we know
so little, preside over the heart of Pindar, the splendid abilities
of Catharine, of Russia, raised her from a cottage to a throne,
by the magnetism of her conversation, and the brilliancy of her
accomplishments; and if we can credit the assertions of Dio,
the only gallantry the voice of slander could say to the charge
of Cicero, was his devoted attachment and literary correspon-
dence with Casellia, a female philosopher of seventy. It has
been acknowledged by the Emperor Napoleon, that the brilliant
and gay vivacity of Josephine could chase away the gloomy
spirit ^of care from his perturbed mind sooner than the conjugal
endearments of the lovely daughter of Caesar. A woman merely
beautiful may attract; a woman polished with a mediocrity of
education may please; and both united may have a transcient triumph
over the hearts of men, but it is sense and virtue embellished by the
graces of accomplishment that fastens on the mind, and enchains the
affections. If to those qualities are added animation of temper,^
cheerfulness of disposition, and softness of manners, the power of
their possessers becomes irresistible; it is fondly acknowledged by the
heart, it is ratified by the understanding, and exalts every delight the
senses can bestow.
The zeal with which the cause of liberty was embraced by ladies
in America during the war of the revolution, has often been mention-
ed with adoration and praise. One alone will forcibly illustrate the
strength of their patriotic feelings. The spirited reply made by Mrs.
Daniel Hall to an insolent British officer, on demanding the keys ol
her trunk : on inquiring what he expected to find there, his reply was,
treason ; to which her spirited and heroic reply was,- he might save
himself the trouble, for he might find a sufficient quantity of that at
her tongue's end, to confound him if he was engaged in a far more
honorable cause. Had I the misfortune to have been born and
lived in those days, which were calculated to try the hearts of the
sons and daughters of men, and possessed the same independent
spirit, which is as strong as death, I might have left on record similar
America's a delightful country sure',
May thy freedom thro' all time endure,
May independence thro' thy wide domain,
Free the control of all invaders reign,
May nature's bloom demanding trivial toil,
Round thy rich landscape? of prolific soil.
Freedom, sweet birthright from the skies,
May thy sons thee as their lives still prize.
May no revolts with their infernal string*,
Be able to oontrol thy golden wings.
On every side our naval forces guard
Our happy shores, invaders to retard.
How terrible by casting dread aifair,
Our thundering cannon in the din of war,
Should England hope once more to try our strength,
They will hear our thunder before they reach our length.
England with war once convulsed our land,
Would have wrenched our dear bought purchase from our hands,
Hoped that beneath her galding fetters yell,
Yes when lines meet by running parallell.
To cherish hope of this as well she may,
Try to arrest the lightning on it sway ;
As well attempt to stop the ebbing tide,
To still the thunder and the planets guide.
Long Island, Brandywine, and Bunk ef's Hill,
Guildford and Eutaw are on record still.
To show what freedom's sons have undergone,
What freedom's sons have for their country done.
England, England, many a bloody scene,
Is charged to you on time's long annals been ;
By fire and sword our once distressed land,
Has sorely felt thy oppressing hand.
And sons of freedom, does your hearts give room
To the thought that she is more kind become ?
A wolf and bear, though quiet in their chains,
A wolf and bear in nature still remains :
But lot them loose no longer they'll suppress,
That baneful nature which they still possess ;
By all the horrors of vindictive rags,
"They'll quickly in destructions work engage !
Wo England yields submission; tho' with pain,
Because sho's bound by freedom's mighty chain—
The infant child she struggled with before,
That infant has forced her to give o'er ;
Hath to a great and mighty giant grown,
Who would not dread the terror of his frown !
England, England, iron pons would fail,
Of all thy guilt to give a full detail.
Sons of freedom choose the soul appalling doom,
Ere you again to England's chains give room :
Like Sampson rend her galding bands,
And hail sweet liberty in far distant, lands.
If i extol England, then my heart
Would, with Delilah, act a treacherous part ;
Who many pleasing things to Sampson said,
And on her lap to slumber laid his head ;
But while he slept, by hell-bred tutors taught,
She his sad murderers from the chamber brought-
As when in camp, to rest great armies go,
A sentinel is placed to watch the foe.
Great Washington, the bravest of the brave,
Braced on his armor and redeemed tho slave :
His character exempt from every shade,
That not one vice did tarnish or degrade ;
From blame exempt, from every stigma free,
Courteous, humane, and circumspect was he :
Not prose nor rhyme can higher praise his name,
'Tis stationed on the loftiest mount of fame.
Exhaustless fond of art and virtue joined
The noblest, bravest, wisest of mankind.
Now near the fount of life's exhaustless springs,
For other worlds he strikes the trembling strings :
His harp attuned with the blood ransomed throng,
Strikes sweet the numbers of immortal songs.
When shall we meet him on that blissful shore,
Where sorrow, grief, and mourning are no more.
But ere we close, we caution France to pause,
Nor marshal troops in an unlawful cause ;
Let her behold her portrait in the glass,
Examine well the two sides of her face ;
She shall behold a shakened constitution,
Brought by the shock of many a revolution.
Unhealthy picture all is fell disease,
In wild commotion like the troubled soas ;
Each limb distorted, every sinew strained,
And all her body exquisitely pained :
To war, by land, or sea France may not roan;,
She has her wars and massacres at home.
Our vessels proudly on the billows ride,
Impelled by steam they thunder through the tide.
Our cars by steam along the rail-road scour,
The rapid speed of forty miles an hour :
And tho' from steam we often here a doleful story,
Yet from all other arts it bears away the glory :
As war trained armies against the hostile foe,
From pondrous cannon chain-bound bullets throw-
Then to the charge rush with impetuous force,
Nor fire nor sword can stay their rapid course !
So on our rail-roads with resistless sway,
Thro' rocks and hills they force their rugged way :
In each deep crevice of the rocky vain,
They pour the nimble fire attractive bane :
The flash appears, the thunder claps resound,
The dread concussion rocks the solid ground ;
While showers of stones fly, casting dread afar,
Like loud artillery in the din of war — ■
Trees and fences torn by rapid shocks,
Of weighty fragments from stupendous rocks ;
Clouds of sulphurous smoke on high ascends,
And loud explosions massy rocks distends.
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