Delaware Gazette And Peninsula Advertiser

From the London Traveller Sept. 22.

Fifty seven years have now elapsed since the coronation of their present Majesties--While glancing at the origin of this commemorative day, and contrasting its past splendor with its present gloom, it is impossible not to feel impressed with the uncertainty of human bliss, and the frailty of earthly state.--England has not, indeed, been engulfed in the vortex of revolutionary storms, her throne remains still firm, nor has her constitution been laid low: but, morally contemplated it may, perhaps, be asserted that by no people have the deepest of sorrows been felt either more sincerely. When affliction had bowed down and shrouded the Sacred head of the monarch who honored it, death was commissioned to pluck the fairest of jewels from England's triumphant crown --Darkness how inhabits her palaces. Hard must be that heart, infatuated that understanding, which can contemplate such a scene, and refuse to sympathise with them that weep. Convinced are we, therefore, that the anniversary of to day will excite in all well constituted minds nothing but commiseration for the situation of the royal house of Brunswick.--What a fate is theirs! Stretched on the agonizing bed of approaching death, separated from the partner of her existence, lest the mother of our princes and the consort of our monarch. Her sons and daughters stand weeping round her while their beloved and venerable Sire, unconscious of their sorrowing, is himself wrapt in impervious shade, alike lost to his relatives as to his people, and dead even while he lives.--Surely this picture requires no heightening.