The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 138

THE FLOWER-GIRL.

----"Pray, buy a nosegay of a poor orphan!" said a female voice, in a plaintive and melodious tone, as I was pa.s.sing the corner of the Hay-market. I turned hastily, and beheld a girl of about fourteen; whose drapery, tho' ragged, was clean, and whose form was such as a painter might have chosen for a youthful Venus. Her neck, without covering, was white as snow; and her features, though not regularly beautiful, were interesting, and set off by a transparent complexion: her eyes, dark and intelligent, were shaded by loose ringlets of a raven black, and poured their sweetly supplicating beams through the silken shade of very long lashes. On one arm hung a basket full of roses, and the other was stretched out towards me with one of the rose-buds. I put my hand into my pocket, and drew out some silver---"Take this, my pretty girl," said I, putting it into her's; "and may that G.o.d, who is the Father of the fatherless, be the preserver of your existence and your virtue!---Virtuous poverty is no crime."

I was turning from her, when she suddenly caught my withdrawn hand; and, putting it to her lips, burst into a flood of tears. The action, and the look which accompanied it, touched my soul; it melted to the artless grat.i.tude of this poor Flower-girl, and a drop of sympathy fell from my cheek. "Forgive me, Sir," said she, recovering from her transport, while a sweet blush diffused itself over her lovely face: "my heart was full of what it could not express---nature impelled me to so free an action.

You will pardon the effect it had on me, when I tell you, they were the first kind words I have heard since I lost all that was dear to me on earth----" A sob interrupted her discourse: she stopped, and wept silently; then, raising up her face from the hand on which she had laid it---"O Sir! I have no father! no mother! no relation! Alas! I have no friend in the world!" Choked with her emotions, she was silent for a moment before she could proceed---"My only friend is G.o.d! on him I rely; I submit to his will. I only pray that I may support with fort.i.tude, the miseries I am born to experience! To him, kind Sir, this heart shall always pray for you. May that G.o.d for ever protect you!" added she, dropping a curtsey full of humility and native grace, as she retired.

I returned her benediction, and went on----

"And can I thus leave this poor creature?" said I, as I walked pensively on. "Can I leave her forever, without emotion? What have I done for her, that can ent.i.tle me to her prayers? Preserved her a few days from death, but that is all! And shall I quit thee, fair flower, to see thee no more? to be blown down by the rude blast of adversity! to be cropped by some cruel spoiler! to droop thy lovely head beneath the blight of early sorrow!--No! thou hast been reared on some happier bank; thou hast been nurtured by the sweet tears of maternal affection; thou hast once blushed beneath the chearing sun of domestick content, and under it thou shalt bloom again!" I turned, as I spoke: my heart beat with its sweet purpose. I saw the beautiful Flower-girl before me.

I approached---caught her hand---the words of triumphant virtue burst from my lips---

"Come, thou lovely, deserted girl! come, and add one more to the happy groupe who call me father! Their home shall be thine: thou shalt share their comforts: thou shalt be taught with them that virtue their father tries to practise!" She stopped me; her eyes flashed with a frantic joy: she flung herself on her knees before me, and burst into a flood of rapturous tears. I raised her in my arms---I hushed her eloquent grat.i.tude, and led her to a home of happiness and piety. She loves my children; she loves their father; and the poor orphan of the Hay-market is now the wife of my son!

DE BURGHE.

NEW-YORK.

MARRIED,

On Wednesday evening the 1st inst. by the Rev. Dr. Linn, Mr. WILLIAM W.

GALATIAN, to the amiable Miss CATHARINE BROWER, daughter of Mr. John Brower, all of this city.

Same evening, by the Rev. Dr. Linn, Mr. PETER VORHISS to the amiable Mrs. NANCY SMITH, widow of Joseph Smith, deceased, both of this city.

_METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS._ _From the 26th ult. to the 4th inst._

_Thermometor observed at 6, A.M. 3, P.M._ _Prevailing winds._ _OBSERVATIONS on the WEATHER._

deg. deg. 6. 3. 6. 3.

100 100 Feb. 26 16 23 nw. w. clr. h. w. Aurora Boralis*.

27 38 47 s. sw. cloudy lt. wd. do. do.

28 34 35 nw. w. cloudy lt. wd. do. do.

March 1 22 35 nw. do. clear lt. wind. do. h. wd.

2 24 37 ne. se. clear lt. wind. cloudy do.

3 33 42 ne. sw. sn at ni. clou. lt. wd. do.

4 38 49 50 s. sw. cloudy lt. wd. clear do.

RESULTS OF METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

FOR FEBRUARY 1797.

deg. 100

Mean temperature of the thermometer at sun-rise 32 9 Do. do. of the do. at 3 P.M. 41 2 Do. do. for the whole month 36 55 Greatest monthly range between the 24th and 26th 41 0 Do. do. in 24 hours, the 26th & 27th 22 Warmest day the 24th 57 0 Coldest do. the 26th 16

14 days the Mercury was at or below frost, at sunrise.

4 do. it was at or below frost at sunrise and at 3 P.M.

7 do. it rained, and a large quant.i.ty has fallen this month.

1 day it snowed, and 2 inches and a-half has fallen.

17 do. the wind was at the westward of north and south.

11 do. the do. was at the eastward of do. and do.

16 do. the do. was light at sunrise and 3 P.M.

4 do. the do. was high at do. and do.

13 do. it was clear at do. and do.

12 do. it was cloudy at do. and do.

[* On the 26th a remarkable appearance of the Aurora Boralis in the evening at the north point: its appearance changed several times, and at length collected to a Piremidical form and disappeared.]

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

_THE DEBTOR._

"Ah! little know'st thou who ne'er has tri'd, "What pain it is in prison long to 'bide; "To lose whole days, that might be better spent, "To pine whole nights in anxious discontent; "To speed to day, to be put back to-morrow; "To flush with Hope, to pine with care and sorrow."

Transposed from COWLEY.

Two long, long years are gone and past, Since from the pitch of affluence cast; With Friends, Fame, Fortune out of date, Eugenio moans his hapless fate: Like the poor Starling in his cage, He fluttering spends his idle rage; And all his cry, and all his rout, Is, Well-a-day! I can't get out.

Friend to the Muse, alas! no more His fancy roves in cla.s.sic lore; His senses flag, his eyes grow blind, And a chill torpor cramps his mind.

Like the poor Starling in his cage, He fluttering spends his idle rage; And all his cry, &c.

What, though when war and tumult rag'd, His country all his soul engag'd; No trace is left, no record sav'd, Of what, to save a state, he brav'd: Like the poor Starling in his cage, He's doom'd to pine, to fret, to rage; And all his cry, &c.

Did want, or merit claim a friend, He knew to serve, to give, or lend; But out of cash and out of place, His former friends forget his face!

Like the poor Starling in his cage, Lonesome he sits and vents his rage; And all his cry, &c.

No more the sun's all chearing ray, Ope's to his view the blush of day; The day is dreary as the night, And a sad darkness clouds the sight: Like the poor Starling in his cage, In doleful plaints he spends his rage; And all his cry, &c.

At eve with gnawing care opprest, His weary eye-lids ache for rest; Then clanking chains above him roll, And sobs, and wailings pierce his soul.

Like the poor Starling in his cage, He counts each tedious hour an age; And all his cry, &c.

When in his arms his infant train, Their little woes and wants explain, The trickling tear, and sigh supprest, Betray the anguish of his breast: 'Till like the Starling in his cage, His throbbing bosom bursts with rage; And all his cry, &c.

Sometimes in dreams he wings his flight, And roves in regions of delight; When (sad reverse!) the Watchman's noise, Dispels his Visionary Joys: Then like the Starling in his cage, He starts, and flutters round in rage: And all his cry, &c.