Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser (NSW : 1803 - 1842), Thursday 2 July 1835, page 4


?sise? POBT*lT.

THE EXILE.

Ttnthttdfrom " Let Vernietet Puroles," by i'Abbe

de la Uanna».

He wander» o'er the earth', that exiled ono t

God he his guide, who other yuide hatli none I wandered through the nations, and I guzed On them, and they on me, alike unknown ; No friendly head was willi a' welcome raised,

For ovcry where the exile is alone.

AVhen o'er Eome chimney, at the closing day,

I saw the smoke unwind its shadowy zone, I said, " Thrice happy he who hy hi» he>rth

Sits down in quiet, with his loved, his own : But every where the exile is alone.

The soft brook wanders singing through the plain ; My childhood knew ono with a skeeter tone ; This wakes my spirit with no momories,

As every where the exile is alone.

These songs are s weet-they breasie of grief and joy j

But not in language which henri has known : They tell not of my griefs, nor of my joys

Still every where the exile is alone.

liey nik mo why I weep ; and when I teH,

They weep not o'er my secret sorrow shvwn ; They do not understand, and cannot weep

For every where the exile ¡9 alone.

Old men I've seen amid their children «tanti,

Like olives «nid the shoots their trunks have thruwn

"None called me brother, and none caltud me child

Ah, every where the exile is alone.

I've seen the maiden on her lover smile

Smiles pure as galts in early morning blown ; But no one had for me a rosy smile

Still every where the exile '.s alone.

I've seen tho young man take the yoting man's hand

In strong embrace, as each to each had grown ; No kindly hand extended to meet mine

Ah ! every where the exile is alone 1

There is no friend, no wife, no sire, no son,

Save on the long-loved land which is our own ; 'J he wide world has one country, and one home ;

For every where the exile is alone !

Poor exile ! cease thy plaint-e'en as thyjelf,

All are as banished ones in thi. sad life ;

All see those pass and vanish, whom they ¡eve

Kindred and brethren, parent, friend, and wife. Our country is not here ; in vain man seeks ' fit but a dream of night that he has won ; It fades-he wanders weary over earth

God, only God, can guide the exiled one.

The following pathetic account of one of those lameutablo catastrophes which occurred during tho tremendous floods tiiat desolated a groat pirt of the North of Scotlaud during the month of August 1829, is extracted from Hie work of Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, who visited the scene of extended desolation, and re-counted those dreadful visitations which accompanied the rage of that memorable irruption of the ocean :

'* On the 3d of August Charles Cruick-shank!?, the innkeeper' had a party of

friends in his house. There was no in-ebriety, but there was a fiddle ; and

what Scotsman is ho who does not know

that the well jerked strains of a lively strathspey have a potent spell in them that goes beyond even the witchery of the bowl ? On one who daily inhales the breezes from the musical stream that gives name to the measure, the influence is powerful, and it was that dny felt by Cruickshanks with a more than ordinary degree of excitement, ile was joyous to a witch that made his wife gravo. I have already noticed the predestinarían principles prevalent in thèse parts. Mrs. Cruickshank» was deeply affected by her husband's unusual jollity. " Surely my goodman is daft the day," said she gravely, " 1 ne'er saw him dance at sio a rate. Lord grant thal he binna fey I"*

" When the river began to rise ra-pidly in tho evening, Cruickshanks, who lind a quantity of wood lying uear the mouth of the burn, asked two of his neighbours, James Stewart and James Alack enan, to go and assist him in ii ragging it out of the water. They rea-dily complied, and Cruickshanks, get-ting on the loose raft of wood, they fol-lowed him, and did what they could in pushing and hauling the pieces of timber a-hore, till the stream increased so much tliat, with one voice, they declared they would stay no longer, and making a des-perate effort, they plunged over head, and reached the land with the greatest difficulty. They then tried all their elo-quence to persuade Cruickshanks to come away, but he was a hold and experienced floater, and laughed at their fears ; nay, s > utterly reckless was he, that, having now diminished the crazy, ill-put-toge iher raft he Blood on, till it consisted of a few spars only, he employed himself in trying to catch at and save some hay-cocks belonging to the clergyman, which were floating past him. But, while hi» ¿lltenlion was' so engaged, the flood was rapidly increasing, till, atlast, even his dauntless heart became appalled at its magnitude and fury, " A horse ! A horse 1" he loudly and anxiously cried, " Run for one of the minister's horses, and ride in with a rope, else I must go with the stream." Ho was quickly ?obeycdjjbut ere a horse arrived, the flood had rendered it impossible to approach

him.

Seeing that he must abandon all hope of help that way, Cruickshanks wa» now seen, as if summoning up all his resolu-tion and preseuce of mind, to make the perilous attompt of dashing through the raging current, with his frail and imper-fect raft. Grasping more firmly the iron shod polo he held in his hand, called in iloater's language a sting, he pushed re-solutely into it ; but he had hardly done so, when the violence of the water wrenched from his hold that which was

all he ho had to depend on. A shriek burst fromhÍ8 friends, asthoy hoheld the

wretched raft dart off with him down tho

stream, likean arrow freed from the bow-1 string. But the mind of Cruickshank« was no common one to quail before the approach of danger. He poised himself, and stood balancod, with determination and self-command in his eye, and no sound of fear, or of complaint was heard to come from him. At the point where tho burn mut the river, in the ordinary state of both, there grew some trees, now surrounded hy deep and strong currents and far from the land. The raft took a direction towards one of these, and see-ing tho wide and tumultous waters of the ¡Spey before him, in which there was no hope that his loosely connected logs could stick one moment together, he coolly prepared himself, and, collecting all his . force into one well timed and well directed

effort, he spraug, caught a tree, and clung amongst its houghs, whilst the fra 1

raft Lurried away from under his foot, | was dashed into fragments, and scattered

on the bosom of the waves, A shout of J joy arose from his anxious friends, for ihey now deemed him safe ; but /ieuttered no shout in return. Every nerve wus strained to procure help. "AboutI" was tho general cry, and some ran this way and some that, to endeavour lo pro-cure one. Ii was now between 7 and 8 o'clock in the evening. A boat was speedily obtained from Mr. Gordon of Aberlour, and, though no one there was | very expert in its use, it was quickly manned by people, eager to save Cruick-shanks from his perilous situation. The current was too terrible about the tree to admit of their ncaring it, so as to take him directly into the boat ; bul their ob-

ject was to row through the smoother water |

to such a distance as might enable thom to throw a rope to him, hy which means they hopodto drag lum to the boat. Fre-

quently did they attempt this, and as I Irequently were they foiled, oven hy that which was considered as the gentler part of the stream, for it hurried them past the point whence they wished to make the cast of their rope, and compelled them to exert all their strength to pull themselves away from him they would have saved,

that they might avoid the vortex tint I would have caught and swept them to tie-1 struction. And often was poor Cruick-shanks tantalized with the approach of help, which caine but to add, to the other miseiios of his situation, that of tho bit-terest disappointment. Yet he hore all calmly. In the transient glimpses they

had of him as they were driven past him they saw no blenching on his dauntless countenance,-they heard no reproach, no complaint, no sound, but lo persevere in their friendly endeavours, lint the

evening wore on, and still they were j unsuccessful. It seemed to them that j something more than natural causes was

operating against them. " His hour is | come !" said they, as they regarded one another with looks of awe ; '. our efforts are vain." The courage and the hopo which had hitherto supported them began

to fail, and the descending shades of night. extinguished the last feeble sparks of j both, and put an end to their endeavours.

Fancy alone can picturo the horrors that must have crept on the unfortunate man, as, amidst the impenetrable dark-ness whieh now prevailed, ho became

aware of the continued increase of the Hood that roared around him, by its gra-

dual advance towards his feet, whilst the i rain and tempest continued to beat more and | moie dreadfully upon him. That these were long mollee ual in shaking his collected mind, we know from the fact, afterwards ascertained, that he actually wound up his watch while in this dretdful situation. Hut, heating no more the occasional passing ex-clamations of those who hud been hitherto

trying to succour him, he began to shout for | help in a voice that became every moment j mo-.e long drawn and piteous, as, between

the gusts of the tempesi, and borne over the |

thunder of the waters, it fell from time to time on the ears ot" bia clustered friends, and

rent the heart of his distracted wife. Ever I

and nnon it came, and hoarser than before, |

and their was an occasional wildness in its note, and now and then a strange and cla-

mourous repetition for a time, as if despair 1 had inspired him with an unnatural energy. Hut the ihouti becam» gradually shorter, less audible, and less frequent,-till at last their eagerly listening earl could catch them no longer *' Is he gone ?"-was the half

wispered question they put to one another, j and the smothered responses that were mut-tered around but too plainly told how much

the fears ot all were in unison.

" What was that ?" cried his wife in deli- | rious scream,-" That was his whistle 1 J heard !"-She said truly. A shrill whiitle, ' such as that which is given with the fingers in the mouth, rose again over the loud din of the deludge, and the yelling of the storm. He was not yet gone. His voice wai but cracked by his frequent exertinus to make it heard, and he had now resorted to an easier mode of transmitting to his friends the certainty of his safety. For some time his unhappy wife drew hope from such con liderations, hut his whistles, as they came more loud and prolonged, pierced the ears of hit foreboding friends like the ill-omened cry of some warning spirit ; and, it mpy be matter of question whether all believed that the sounds they heard were really mortal. Still they came louder and clearer for a brief space ; but at last they were heard no more, save in hil frantic wife's fancy, who continued to start as if she still heard them, and to wander about, and to listen, when all but herself were satisfied that she could never hear them again.

Wet aad weary, and shivering with cold, when the tardy dawn of morning beheld her, strainig her eye-balls through the imperfect light, towards the trees where Cruickshanks had been last seen. There was something thtre that looked like the figure of a man, and on that her eyes were fixed. But those around her «aw, alas ! to well, that what «he fondly hoped to be her husband was but a hunch of wreck gathered by the floed into one of the trees, for the one to which he had , clung had been swept away.

Ihe body of poor Cruickshank* wag I found the next day on the Haugh of Danda leath, «¡orne 1 or S miles below. As it hid ever been Ins uniform practice to wind up Ins witch at night, and it was discovered to be ne irly full wound winn it was taken from his pocket, the fact was proven of his having had selfpocsession enough to obey Ins usual cus-

tom under circumst mees so terrible. It hid

stoped at aq nrter past IL o'clock, which

would seem to fix that as the fatal moment when the trees were rent away, for when that happened, his struggles must have been few anti short, When the men, who had nnsuccebsfully attempted to save him were talking over the matter, and agreeing thit no human help could have availed him, .' I'm dunkin' I could ha' ta'en him oot," said a vcice in the circle. All eyes wer« tinned towards the speaker, and a general expression of contempt followed, for it was a boy of the name of Hamey, a reputed idiot, from the ford of Belnnnes, who spoke. " You '" cried a dozen voices it once, what " would you have done, \o\\ wise min ?" -" I wud ha'e tied an empty anker cask to a long long tow, an' I would ha'e floated it äff frae near aboot whar the raft was ta'en Grst a wa', an syne, ye see, as the stream teuk the rait till the tree, maybe she wud ha'e tane the cask there too,-ad' if Charle) HCrutckshanks hádame gotten a hand o' the

rope,"--He would hnve finished» but his ; auditors were gone. They had silently j slunk away in different directions, one man ¡alone having muttered, as he went, some-

thing about " wisdom coming out of the

mouth oi fools."

Cause of the change of Ministry.-On Widnesday Samuel White and Benjamin Franklin, a couple of jobbing chimney sweeps, were summoned before Mr. Dyer and Mr. Saunders, for having hawked their vocation in the public streets, contrary to a

recent enactment.

Mr. Dyer-" Why do you force us, Franklin, to put the penalty of the law in force, you must know you are doing wrr-ng ?"

Franklin-" Cant live without eating and drinking, and that's all about ii."

Mr. Dyer-" The fine for the offence is 40s., and voii give us no encouragement to

be lenient."

Franklin- -" It's wtrry much agin, n y principles to give your worship any-en couragempnt-and I'll pound it, if you only lets me oil thti here vonce, you'll never catch me singing out ayin."

Mr. Dytr-" Well Smith what have you to say 1''

Smith"-" I" nose werry well vot I've to say-its this here. That I stoped at home according to law, until I vos starving, and

oner I'd sowld every universal hartiele of J property, down to the hidentical bed under my \ife, whose the mother of lotirteen blessed babbici, and then I vos hohligated to go

¡mo the strcots and yarn summut at my

i » . trade.

Mr. Dyer-" But why don't j ou try to get into «orne oiher employment, if you cannot support yourself at one trade without breaking the law."

Smith-" Vy, I vont pitch no gammon, but this here's the pint : I'm a worry old man, und it's more 'n filty years .ince I vos a prentice, and nil that here time I never had no prowocation to larn nothing else, but the chimhly line. Vy ! a young man

can't get work now, so vere'« the chalice of j an old'un like me getting a job?"

Mr. Dyer it« ni pleasure to me, I ansure you, to put the act in force, but I must do so where an offence has been proved. '

Smith-" Velll duiner say as your caie

is werry right, but I must get a mouthful of ' grub', somehow."

Mr. Dyer put the moderate fine of one sl.i'liug and costs on both defendents.

"Ah!" said Smith, as he left the office, "this here hact vos the vork of the 'Vigs,' and now the Duke of Vellington as put the "Kibosh' on 'm, vich they never would have got, if they hadn't pass'd it: that's

vot's floor'd them."