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VOLUME X. V DAVIS & SHORT. The Brunswick ritivocatc, U published every Thursday Morning, in the city of Brunswick, Glynn County, Georgia, at $:? per annum, in advance, or §4 at the end of the year. No subscriptions received for a less term than six months and no paper discontinued until all arrearages are paid except at the option of the üblisherrf. O’All letters and communications to the Cditor or Publishers in relation to the paper, must be POST PAID to ensure attention. O’ ADVERTISEMENTS conspicuously in serted at One Dollar per one hundred words, foj the first insertion, and Fifty Cents for ev ery subsequent continuance—Rule and figure work always double price. Twenty-five per cent, added, if not paid in advance, or during the continuance of the advertisement. Those sent without a specification of the number of insertions will be published until ordered out, and charged accordingly. Legal Advertisements published at the usual rates. O’N- B Sales of Land, by Administrators, Executors or Guardians, are required, by law, to be held on the first Tuesday in the month,, between the hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the afternoon, at the Court-house in the county in which the property is situate.— Notice of these sales must-be given in a public gazette, Sixty Days previous to the day ol sale. Sales of Negroes must be at public auction, Oil the first Tuesday of the month, between the usual hours of sale, at the place of public sales in the county where the letters testamentary, of Administration or Guardianship, may nave been granted, first giving sixty davs notice thereof, in one of the public gazettes of this State, and at the door of the Court-house, where •ueh sales are to be held. Notice for the sale of Personal Property, must be given in like manner, Forty days previous to the day of sale. Notice to the Debtors and Creditors of ail Es tate must be published for Forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land, must be published for Four Months. Notice for leave to sell Negroes, must be published for Four Months, before any order absolute shall be made thereon by the Court. (xi'iicral -Yewspapor aisel I'of lectitm Agency. rpHE undersigned, late editor and proprietor JL of the Chronicle, having the ex tensive business of that establishment to close, and conscious from long experience, how- much such a facility is needed, at least by the Press, is disposed to connect with it a General .Igcn cij for the collection of A'ctcsj/ajtcr and other Debts, in this and the neighboring Southern States, and will travel almost continually to present them himself. Should the business of l'ered be sufficient, the agency will be made a permanent one—and while his long connexion with the Press and consequent knowledge ol its peculiar requisitions and- benefits from such an Agency, and Ins extensive personal acquain tance with the localities and people of the coun try, aiibrd peculiar facilities for the perforin ance of its duties, he trusts that suitable on quiries will leave no doubt of prompt and faith ful attention to them. A. 11. PEMBERTON. Mr. Pemberton will commence a trip through Barnwell and Beaufort Districts, to Savannah, thence through Bryan, Liberty, Mclntosh, Glynn and Camden counties, and hack through Wayne, &c. to Savannah ; and thence through Effingham, Seriven, Burke, Jeff'erscii, Wash ington and Warren, to Augusta. After which, he will travel through most of the nei<rhl>orind districts of South Carolina, and the middle ung upper counties of Georgia; ami through the States of Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, N. Carolina, Virginia, Ac. lie xvill receive, sos collection, claims of any kind. Terms as follows: A’ctrspapcr accounts, b, c. (including those ot Periodicals,) when to be made cut by him, from general lists, forwarded by mail, &c. 15 per ct. A'ew subscribers, with payment in advance, 2o per cent; without payment in advance, 12 1-2 percent. He has been ottered more in some instances, but cannot consent to take more from one than another, or than he himself would willingly pay ; and now fixes on these rates as those he has paid, and as being as low as can be afforded, or as he lias ever known paid— trusting for remuneration, more to the probable extent of business he may receive, than to the rates themselves, together with the considera tion of travelling for his health, and to collect for himself. Mercantile accounts, 5 per cent, more of le-s according to amount, <Ac. Remittances will be made according to instruc tion, and at the risk of those to whom they are addressed—he furnishing the Postmaster's cer tificate of the amount deposited, and description of money, whenever a miscarriage occurs.— When left to his discretion, as often as circum stances, amount collected, safety, economy. &c. may seem to justify, and checks, drafts, or suitable notes in size, currency where sent, can be obtained—and at the risk of those ad .dressed to him in this city, will be immediately forwarded to him, when absent. Reference to any one who knows him; and there are few who do not in this city or section. lie is now Agent for the following Neswpa pers and Periodicals, and authorized to receive subscriptions or payments therefor: Chronicle and Sentinel, Augusta, Constitutionalist, _ do. Southern Medical and Surgical Journal do. Georgian, Savannah, Advocate, Brunswick, Ga. Mercury, Charleston. Southern Patriot, do. Southern Literary Journal do. Southern Agriculturalist, do. Western Carolinian, Salisbury, N. C. Farmers’ Register, Petersburg, Va. Southern Literary Messenger, Richmond,Va Merchant, Baltimore. Reformer. Wbshington City. Augusta, June 2U. Publishers of Newspapers, Ac., who may think proper to engage his services, will please give the above two or three conspicuous inscr tions weekly or monthly, and forward the No’s containing it ERUKSW2CE, CUBORG-Xii, TEUIISDAY BSOMTSNG, 5,18 CC. POE TRI. BOAT SONG Hark ! brothers, hark ! —the evening gun (Pull away steadily—all pull cheerily,) Booms from the land at set of sun : (Pull away readily—all pull merrily.) Bend to your oars, for the night breeze will soon Ripple the wave to the silvery moon ; So happy are we, And fearless and free, Pulling our boat o’er the moonlit sea. ; I Pull away, boys, with main and might, ! (All pull readily—pull mates, cheerily,) ■ Looks that we love, are here to night; | (Pull,brothers, steadily—all pull merrily.) i Our boat, like a sea-bird, skims swiftly along jTo the and p of our oars and the chime of our song; So hearty we be, Arid jovial and free, j Pulling away o'er the dark blue sea. i Ladies at best hold landsmen cheap, I (Pull, lads, readily—all pull merrily,) Beauty ’s smiles are for sons of the deep, | (Pull, boys, steadily—pull away cheerily,) ; And beautiful eyes, let them say what they will, j Beam ever brightest on blue jackets still ; So happy and free, And glccsomc are we Pulling our boats o’er the tranquil sea. 1 Merrily, when we reach the shore, (Pull away, readily—all pull cheerily.) A can we'll drain to the lads of the oar ; j (Pull, boys, steadily—pull away merrily,) And fro I '. • and fun shall be ours, till v,e Arc." bcuiidinir again o'er the dark blue sea; So happy are we, And fearless and free, Pulling our beat o’er the moonlit sea. iii .73 IS CE E Is A Y Sl . Extract prom “Ether Churchill.” It was a very bit of Arcadia, the scene that the lawn presented. A few late (low ers lingered among the shrubs, and the rich colouring on the autumnal foliage supplied the place of bloom. The gar den was laid out with exquisite taste, and ' the groups scattered around, seemed ani mated with the spirit of the place ; for {they placed themselves into little knots, just where they were calculated to pro ! dace the best effect. There was ay elc | gaut collation ready ; and while Pope ; talked of ‘flis humble roof, and poet’s fare,’ i he had neglected nothing that could please Ids assembled guests. To Lndv IMuroh mont he was the most interesting object jof all, although It is j/etifs suing were ad dressed to Lady \V order Montague, who received them with that encouraging c >- Iqnetrv born of flattered vanity. ' “I’latterv is like champagne, it soon ! gets into the head ; but in Pope’s flattery : there was too much of the heart, hong after hours of neglect and mortification dearly atoned for that morning’s pleasant delusion. There is something in genius ! for which fate demands severe atonement, hi some things Pope’s was an exception jto the general lot. lie dwelt in that ‘let ! tercil ease’ to which his own taste gave ; refinement; his talents pined in no obsci ritv, but earlv readied their just apprecia tion : his friends were those whose i'rii ud j ship is honor, and he lived in a very j court of personal homage and flattery. But fortune only neglected to do what na ture had already done. Dwarfed from his birth, that slender lrame was tenanted by acute physical ills ; which acting upon a mind even more sensitive than his body, made life one long scene of irritation and suffering. The lingers were contracted by pain that yet gave the sweetest music to their page : satire was at once his power ! and (the sense ol power is sweet to us all) l Ins refuge. I “The passion and melancholy of one !or two poems, just suffice to show what a 'world of affection and sentiment was jchecked and subdued, because their in dulgence had been only too painful ; hut j to-day was to be as flowing as his ow n j verses :he was at her side on whom he {lavished so much passionate and graceful ! flattery; and Lady Mary paid him back, | not in kiud, for his heart went with hi.; i words, but hers was only sweet lip-ser vice.’’ “There is a cruelty in feminine coquetry, ! which is one of nature’s contradictions. • Formed of the softest materials—of the gentle smile and the soothing word, yet . nothing can exceed its utter hard-heart- I edness. Its element is vanity, of the cobles", harshest, and most seltish order; it sacrifices ail sense of right, all kind of feelings, all pity, for the sake of a tran sient triumph. —Lady Mary knew—for when Iras woman not known !—her pow er. She knew that she was wholly be j loved by a heart proud, sensitive and de j spending. She herself had warmed fear into hope—had made passion seem possi iWe to one who felt, keenly felt, how (much nature had set him apart. If' gc- ’ nius for one moment believed that it i could create love, as it could all else, hers j was the fault; she nursed the delusion : it was a worthy tribute to her self-love. “‘Truly her ladyship,’said the duke of Wharton, -‘parades Parnassus a little too much. Does she suppose nobody is to be flattered but herself? Come, Iler vey, let us try a little wholtfeome neglect.’ Forthwith they devoted themselves to La dy Murchmont: Lady Mary’s smiles were unmarked, and her witticisms fell dead weights so fir as they were concern ed. 'Phis was too much for a wit and a ; beauty to endure. Os What avail was flattery that she only heard herself ! She {grew impatient till the collation was over, | aqd was the first to step out upon the lawn. “Pope did the honors of his garden, which was a poem in itself. He showed them his favorite willow—fittest tree for ! such a soil—s-so pale and tender in its green, so delicate a lining within the leaves, so fragile and so drooping, witli so ■ mournful a murmur when the wind stirs its slender brandies. The whole scene was marked by that air of refined and tranquil beauty which is the charm of an English landscape. The fields had that glossy green, both refreshing and cheer | lul; the slight ascents were clothed with .trees —some retaining their verdure, oth -1 era wearing those w arm and passionate ■colors that, like all things colored by pas j sion, so soon exhaust themselves. Yet, what a gorgeous 'splendor is on an att itumnal landscape! The horse chestnut, with its rich mixture of orange and | brown, the sycamore, with its warrior {scarlet —the coral red of the small loaves, of the hawthorn, mixed tog: flier with an oriental pomp, as if tire year died, like the Assyrian monarch, on a pyre of all precious things.—Winding its way in "bro ken silver, the sunshine (lancing on every i ripple, the Thames lay at the edge of the ! grassy sweep. The blue sky, with the . light clouds floating emits surface, was mirrored iu the depths of the river; but, -as it is lost somewhat of its high tranquil- I ity under the influence of our sphere, the reflection was agitated and tremulous, while the reality uriis calm and .-till. It is but the type of err restless world, an and the serene one to which we aspire : we look up, and the heavens are above, Holy | and tranquil': we look down on the mir ror below, and tliev are varying and itroubled. — But fe.v flowers, and those pale and faint, lingered in the garden : these Pope gathered and" offered to hi i fair guests. Lndv M arcliuiont placed hers carefully iu lmr girdle. “1 shall keep even the withered leaves as a relick,’ said idle with a smile even more flattering than her words. It was well that slje en grossed the attention of her host from th«• ' dialogue going on between Lord iiervcv and Lady Mary. “You learned the language of flowers in the En~f,’ said he ; Mint 1 thought dwarfs were only the messengers.'. “ ‘And such they are now,’ replied he listener : ‘here is one flower for yen.’ “ ‘The rest the gods dispersed on emp ty air,’ and she flung the hloj's ims care i lessly from her. , “ Pope did not see tho action, lbr he ■was pointing out a beautiful break in the view. ‘1 have,’ said lie, dong bail a fa vorite project—shot of planting an old Gothic catherdal iu trees. —Tall poplars, 'with their white stems, the lower bran dies cut aw iv, would serve for the pillars : while different heights would form the aisles.—The thick, green boughs would shed ‘a dim religious light,’ and some i stately old tree would have a fine effect as the tower. “ ‘A charming idea,’ cried Wharton : ‘and we all know. ■•That sweet saint whose name the shr tie would bear.’ But while we are w aiting for the tem ple, can vou not show us the altar ? We want to see your grotto.’ “Pope desired nothing better than to show us his new toy, and led the wav to the pretty and fanciful cave, which was 1 but just finished. It was duly admired ; hut while looking around,Wharton observ ed some verses lying on the seat.” “A treasure for the public good/ ex claimed he ; ‘I volunteer reading them a louil..’, 4 j “ ‘Nay, any, iifat "is.very unfair/ cried Pope, w ho, nevertheless, did not secretly 1 dislike the proposal. “Oh I” replied the duke, ‘we will allow for your modesty’sNsiveet, reluctant amor ous delay,’ but read them I'.must and shall. Then, turning towards Lady Ma ry, he read the following lines : “All, friend, ti.» true—this truth you lovers know, In vain my structures rise, my gardens grow : 111 vain fair Thames reflects the double’ scene Os hamring woodlands, and of sipping green : Joy lives not here ; to happier seats ittHes. And only lives where Worthy casts iicr eyes.’ “ ‘Pray, ‘fair inspirer of the tender strain, let inelaythe offering at your feet.’ “ ‘Under them, if you please,’said she, her fine features expressing the most ut itor contempt ; and trampling the luckless coniplnnent in the dust, she tpok Lord i Herscy’s hand, and, exclaiming—‘The at j mospliero of this place is too oppressive for.me,’ left the gfotto ': but past of her j whisper to her companion was meant to be audible— , “‘A sign-post likeness of the human 'race, | I hat is at once resemblance and sfisgrace.” “Lady MarcluuOnt was left atone in the ■ grotto with its ill-1 a*‘d master, and every kindly feeling in her nature was in arms. Affecting not to have noticed what passed she approached where Pope, stood speech , le*, pale with auger, and a yet deeper | emotion: the said, in a voice whose usii jul sweetness was sweeter than ever, with its soothing and conciliating tone—‘There ,is one part ot your garden, Mr. Pope, which I must entreat you to'show me. I l have a dear, kind unde at home, who owes you many a delightful evening. lie I will never forgive me unless I write him j word that 1 have seen i"• • 1 lie grapes long lingering on the sunriv wall.’ , “Pop" took her hand mechanically and {led her forth : but the effort at sell’-con j trol was too much for his weak frame, i'he drops stood on that pale, high brow, which was the poetry of his face, and he leaned against the' railing.—‘No !’ ex claimed he, passionately, after .1 few min ute’s silence, ‘your conrtspy, ladv, cannot disguise from me that you, too, heard the insult m that heartless woman. Let me speak—l know I may trust your kindness; and, even if you turned into after ridi ; cub' tilt: bitter outpouring of this mo ment’.; umary, you would but do as oth i<*rs, in whom l trusted, have done. Hea vens ! how imdly I have loved her—mad ly, indeed, since it made me forget (lie j gulf that nature has set between us—she so l>c;mt;iul, and, 1, as she has just said, who only resemble my kind to disgrace |it 1 \et she sought me first—she led me j on—she taught me .to think that the utter prostration ot the heart was something in I her eyes —that a mind like hers coul l ap preciate mind. Fool, fool, that 1 have ! been ! .What have I done, that I should . be thus set apart from- my kind —disfigur- ed, disgraced, immeasurably wretched? Oh ! that I might lav any weary h'vul op toy motile; earth r.r.d die I” “ ‘We e.u’ild not spare vou,’ exclaim ( 1 Lalv M archill out, taking his hand, nlleeinonately, dm tears starting in her ey s; ‘bur not for this moment's morlifi i cation must you forget your other friends ! —how much even strangers love and ad , mire you. Think of \ our own glorious \ irentns, ami tlie happiness which it be stow a 1 have but one relative iu the world ; !:■ is an MJ, ;olit ;ry man! and I , think of li.iu with cheerfulness, wltcuevi r l send liuu anew page of yours, t speak hut as one of iii my who m cr name v >u hut with admiration and with gratitude.’ “Pope pressed the ham! that vet re mained in lus own. *(od bless vou, nv dear, kind child ! Ith mk v>u for c-:i --ling inv jH>wer to my mind, him shall .lean; ! I.at the worm on Uiiudi she trod i has a sting.’ ' and b' v bd; red awhile, fill the irrit n and host was equal to joining ins guests. Tho boat was re.adv ; and the whole party joined in laughing at Ladv Marchmont for her long 7 ift-n-ttfr with Pope. •• -I siii not jealous,’ iTw i Lad y M irv : ‘Go triumph in a lu-art.that: <«n>-e was .ninel" “ ‘i think, said Ladv a! rchmout, poin tedly, there has been as little heart in the matter as possible: but you shall none of vou laugh me out of my cordial admira tion of a man of first-rate genius; and whose personal infirmities call upon us for the kindest sympathy.’ “By Jove ! you are right,’ cried the Duke of Wharton : how much vanity may he pardoned in one who lias .such cause fur just pride ! Tie is building up a noble monument in bis language, which will last when we, with our small hopes mil influences, are as 'much forgotten as if we had never been.’ “ ‘I s«e no great good in being remem bered,’ retorted Lady Mary: ‘1 would fain concentrate existence in the present. 1 would lorget in order to enjoy. .As to memory, it only reminds me that l am growing older every day ; and as to hope, it only [itits one out of conceit with pos session.’ “ ‘All tills is very true of our cqtfmion \ yp/jee t'vijptejM'i J?' replim? huh March-; mmit : ‘but the gifted mind has a diviner: i l"inmt.’ 4 ••(low charming is dirine philosophy— • -Notharsii and ruggi ■!, a- dull ton's L.• i. ve,’ ; 'exclaimed Lord Ilervey, with armor. “ ‘W it'u the single exception of Ladv Marchmont,’ ‘we all behaved shamefully to-day. How 1 will admire the next 1 tint Pope writes ! and, what is more, l will ride to Twickenham to tell him so :’ \ and, having made this compromise with! his conscience, the conversation drop-! i 1 1 ped. “From that day, however, all friendship' was at an end between Lady Mary and Pope. Hoiv he revenged himself is well known, nis lines yet remain, stamped ■with all the bitterness of wounded vanity; and mortified affection. Strange the pro cess by wjjich love turns into hate ! I ' pity itjeveu more than I blame it. What unutterable wretchedness must the heart t have undergone ! what scorn and what sqw-o'.v must have been endured before rtwenge eould become refuge and a re source !” *» * Thomas Juh rson. While this dis tinguished statesman and patriot was Vice President oP the United States, it was cuiffomary for the individual holding that Irigff office, to attend to business more in person, titan the refinement of more mod ern limes w ill allow. It happened on one occasion that some important matter re quired his attention in Philadelphia and some -other places distant from the Capi tol. In those days a journey to Piiiladeb. phiunvas not to he performed in a few hours—it was two or three days travel, and not of the most pleasant sort either. On his return he stopped in Baltimore; it was about -four or five iu the afternoon, when they ice President rode up, suiteless andunattemlpil, to the tavern. A Scotch man by the name of Bovdcn, kept the Ho tel, of late so much improved and now so! hand Namely sustained by our worthy townsman Beligiioover. The bucks of tne loan were assembled in the large hull, smoking, strutiing, cracking jokes, and oluvrw.ise indulging in that et cetera of tho and ry. Hoyden was at the bar examin ing liis hooks, and doubtless making cal culations in reference to his .future pros pects. .fefferson had delivered his horse to the hostler, and walked into the tavern to make arrangements in regard to his l ire. Someone touched Hoyden upon the elbow and directed his attention to the stranger, who was standing witli his whip in his hand, striking it occasional!) upon his muddy legging Hoyden turned j round and surveyed him from head to' loot, and concluding him to bo an old banner from the country whose compa ny would add no credit to the house, lie said abruptly, “Wo have rib room for you, sir.” Jefferson did not hear the remark, and a>ked il he. could he accommodated with a room. 1J is voice, which was command ing and attractive, occasioned another survey of his person, by the honest pro prietor of the house, whose only care was for its reputation. lie could not find, however, in his plain dress, pretty well coveted with mud, any thing indicating either wealth or distinction, and in his us ual rough style he said— “A room?” Jefferson replied, “Yes, sir, I should like to have a room to myself, if 1 can get it. ’ “A room, ail to yourself? no—no, we] bale no room—there's not a spare room in the house,—all full—all occupied,— can’t accommodate you.” The Vice President turned upon Ins In i!, called for iiis horse, which by this rime iv. is sing in the stable, —mounted and rode off. In a lew minutes one of the most wealthy and distinguished men of the town came iu and asked for the gentleman who rode up to the door a few moments before— “ Gentleman!” said Bovden. “Yds, tim gentleman who came up this instant on horseback.” j There has been no gentleman Imre on, horseback this afternoon, and no stranger at all, but one common country looking! fellow who came in and asked if he could | have ;i whole room ; but I asked him out] of that, mighty quick, I tell yon, — 1 told him I had no room for such chaps.” “No room lbr such chan.-!” “No hv tho pipersp no room for any body that don't look respectable." Why, wint are vou talking about man! He's the .Vice President of the United States.” “Vice President of the United States!” exclaimed Boyden, almost breathless in astonishment. “Why, yes, sir, Thomas Jefterson, the Vice President of the United States, and the greatest man alive.” “Murder ! what have I done ? Here Tom, Jim, Jerry, J ike : where are you all ?—Here fly you villains and HI that we’ve forty rooms .at his ser vice.—By George ! Vice President— Thomas Jefferson ! -tell linn to come back and he shall havo-my wife's parlor—my own room—Jupiter ! whal have I none ' 'Here Harriot, Mary clear out the family ; he shall have the best room and all the rooms if he wants them. Off you hussies, put clean sheets on the bed. BiO take up this mirror. George, hurry up w’ith tin: boot jack—by George ! what a mistake.” • For fifteen minutes Boyden rayed like , a madman, and went fifty times to the door to see if his wished for guest was retiiro ' tng. ’i’he Vice President rode up to Market •street, where he was recognized by many !of bis acquaintances’: ntwl by them di rected to the Globe tavern, which stood 'somewhere near the corner of marketami 'Charles street—bore Bvmleh’a servants NUMBER 3X. ' came up, and told him their master had provided rooms for him. . i “Tell him, I have engaged rooms,” said I Jefferson. 1 Poor Boyden’s mortification can be better imagined than told ; the chaps who { were loitering about Mhe bar-roora' and hall, and had laughed heartily at the dis appointment-of the muddy farmer, had recovered from their astonishment) and w ere preparing to laugh at their "down cast landlord. After sometithe be vailed upon someffriend to wait upon Mr. Jefferson with his apology, and request that he should return and take lodgings at his house promising the best room, and all the attention should be given him, Mr. Jefferson returned t the following answer: “l'ell Mr. Boydeti j appreciate his kind intentions, but if he had no room for the muddy farmer, he shall have no room fir the Vice President.—[Balt. Ath enaeum. ' A Maxaoinu Wife. Some * women are never happy Unless'when they are scrubbing, brushing, sweeping, or ether wise toiling in household affairs, although they have to do all that they re quire. The Honorable Henry Erskine's first w ife was one of this class, and her extreme nervous irratibility and eccentric ways, it may be supposed, did not contri bute greatly to Henry’s domestic happi ness. One of her peculiarities consisted in not retiring to rest at this usual time; She would frequently employ half the night in examining the wardrobes of the family, to see that nothing was missing, and tint every thing was in its proper place. The following is told as a proof of her oddities. One morning, about two or three o’clock, having been iiflk successful in a search, site awoke MrEhi kine fi om a sound sleep, by putting to him this important interrogatory, “Henry, lovie, where’s your white vvaiscoat ?” A Heavv Fortune. The late Duke of St. Albans has left Miss A. Burdett i‘ I ,‘‘00,(100. TJie w eight of the enor mous sum, in gold, reckoning sixty sov ereigns to the pound, is 13 tons, 7 cwt. 3 qrs, I*2 jbs, and would require 107 men to carry it, supposing that each of them carried 239 lbs. (equivalent to the weight of a sack of flour.) Couuting at the rate of sixty sovereigns in a minute for eight hours a day, and six daya a week, it would take ten weeks, two days, and four hours to accomplish the task! In sovereigns, by the most exact computa tion, each measuring in diameter 17-20ths of an inch, and placed to touch each oth er, it would extend to the length of twen ty-four miles and 2(JO yards, and in crown pieces 112 1-2 mrios and 240 yards.. , ' An English Frolic. The devices by which wealthy Englishmen labor to get l id of their incomes, are sometimes amu sing enough. Our last English papers bring us an account of one which had something new in it. An Englishman re cently obtained permission to occupy one of the houses exhumed at Pompeii a fort night. Before going into his new, prem ises, lie caused the building to be com pletely restored as nearly in its original style as could he done, and then dressing his family, and his servants in the ancient Roman dress, imitated their mode of lir- and made the Latin classic his sole reading, for the fortnight. [New York Suit. IfP Three Great Physicians. The bed side of the celebrated Dumoulin, a few hours before lie breathed his last, wa* surrounded by the most eminent Physi cians of Paris, who affected to believe that his death would be an irreparable loss to the profession. “Gentlemen,” said Dunoulin, “you are in an error— l shall leave behind me three distinguished Phys icians.” Being pressed to name them, is each expected to be included in the trio, he answered, Water, Exersisr, and Di et. [Mer. Jour. Diplomatic Brevity.-*— Talleyrand ad dressed a letter of condolence to a lady who had lost her husband, in the wortb “Oh Madame ?” In less than a year We lady married again—his billet of eoo ■ oratulation ran—-“Ah ! Madame !” r I <>D.v. :>:t!ON' co- a Gf.vtlemai».— * Gentility is ndi'her hi birth, manner, DOT fashion, but in the mind. A high sense of honor, a determination never to lake a mean .advantage ot another, an adherence to truth v delicacy, and politeness towards those wit’u whom you may have dealings, are the essential and distinguishing char acteristics of a gentleman a Fair Trade. I have a Jittle advertise ment in your paper this morning, Mr. Printer, you can let me have five_Qr.sixof your papers, I suppose, and not -charge |me any tiling ? “Certainly, Sir, when a . man goes into your store and buys a rest pattern, 1 presume he gets a hand saw 1 gratis.”