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i" rikToROROlA JOURNAL.
°t5uiTTANCR» BY MAIL—“A po.tmaator niny ...clna. mon.y
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POETICA^
[from THU LOUISVILLR JOURNAL.]
Camnbell'a lines upon the Rainbow linvenlwava been con
i' Ion. of ih. moat beautiful production.,yat if the lot-
line, upon the en.ne aubjecl are not more bennUfui.we
■ re no indgea of poetry .—
' THE KAINBOW.
I eomelimea have thought in mv loneliest hours,
'rbatlio on my heart like the dew on the (lowers
6 a ramble 1 took one bright afternoon,
When my heart was as light asa blossom in Juno i
The .rceri earlh was moist with the late fallen showers,
The breeze fluttered down and blew open the flowers,
Whiles single white cloud to ita lionven of rest,
On the white wing of peace floated off in the west.
I i .i.rew back mv tresses to catcli the cool breeze,
That scattered tlierain-drops and dimpled the seas,
K, up die Mne nky a fair rainbow unrolled
lia Boft-tinted pinion# of purple and gold /
*T»ns born in the moment, yet, quiclt n, r ,t ."*'' rl V
tiwas stretched to the uttermost ends of the earth,
Y„J fair as so angel, it floated nil free,
Witiia wing ou the earth and a wing on the sea.
How calm was tlie ocean I how gentle ItSMrell I
t ike a woman’s soft bosom, it rose and it fell,
While hilLltt sparkling waves, sice hog laughingly o er,
men ’ey -«w tho fair rainbow knelt down to tl.a shore;
No sweet hymn ascended, no murmur of prayer,
Vet 1 felt that the spirit of worship was mere,
And bent mv young head in devotion and love,
'Neath the farm of the angel that floated above.
How wide was the sweep of its beautiful wings 1
How boundless its circle! how radiant »»nngs.
If I looked on the nky ’twas suspended in air.
If I looked on the ocean the rainbow was thore,
Thus forming a girdle ao brilliant and whole
As ths thoughts of the rainbow that circled my soul—
Like the whig of the Deity, calmly unfurl’d.
It bcutfrom me cloud and oncireleJ the world.
There are moments.I think, when the spirit receives.
Whole volumes nf thought nn its unwritten leaves,
When the folde of the heart in a moment unclose,
Like the innermost leaves from the heart of a rose ;
And thus, when the rainbow hod passed from the sky,
And thoughts it awoke were too deep to pass by;
It left my soul like the wing of a dove,
All fluttering with pleasure,and fluttm-lng with love.
1 know that each moment of rapture or pain,
Bui shortens the links in life’s mystical chain ;
l know that mv form like that bow from the wave
May pass from the eurth and lie cold m the grave;
Yer.oh! wh«n death’s shadows my bosom uncloud.
When I shrink from the thought of the coffin and shroud,
May Hope, like the rainbow, my spirit unfold
In her beautiful pinions of purple and gold.
[FOR THE OHIO 6TATE JOURNAL j
polk Jnice.
Bv J. Granger. Tune——'Old Dan Tucker.
A “shy Old Fo*” whose head was bald,
Lay in his den at Lindenwnld ; t
He spied a “ Poke” upon th* wiog,
And this is the song he did sing:
Chorut Get out of the way you’r too unlucky,
To fool the Coon of Old Kentucky.
This Old Fox knows the Coon can climb
The Pokeberry weed in Pokebcrry time,
To pick the berries the bush h’ll flatten,
Then how that same old Coon will fatten.
Get out of the way,&c.
Now trembling,waiting in suspense,
These Pokitea sit upon the fence,
They know that Jimmy Polk's a poner,
For the Polk weed wilts and dies in the corner.
Getoutof the way,&c.
These Polkites at straws they catch,
They count their chickens before they hatch,
Instead of feasting upon mana,
They got “Polk juice” from Louisana.
Get outof the way,&c.
But “Creole Coons” cuu’l he kept under,
They bite and scratch, and fight like thunder,
They’ll hang as high a^Human's gallows,
This Texas Polk, and Bank man Dallas.
Get out of the way, &c.
Although so near the Texas nation,
They could’nt be fooled with annexation,
And Texas Polk, and Texas Tyler,
Collapsed their flues and burst their boiler.
Getoutof the way, dec.
Our “Pole” with banners proudly decked,
Like Harry Clay will stand erect,
Tlio* howls thn wind and roars the thunder,
It won’t bend like Sam’s Polk stalk yonder.
Get out of the way, dec.
But Sam’s Polk stalk will never vex us,
It hangs ita head and leuns towards Texas,
It leans like Polk to suit the weather,
Sometimes this way, sometimes the other.
Get out of the way, fce.
Now boys look out—to batter Sum,
We soon w ill liuve a “Buttering Rnin,”
And then for fear he'll spoil with rage,
We’ll season him witli”otruight Out Sage.”
Get out oft ho way, die.
Then good old Franklin, go it loud
r or Kelley, Kidgwiay ana McCloud,
And you must clear at least a thousand
For Henry Clay and Frelinghuysen.
*7? , Get out of the way, fee.
I in l.ocos have erected a tall and t/ender pole near the
Btotftsninn office, which swnys hack and forward every "wind
mTscELL AN EOUS.
the diamond**,
Dr a Ilhtory ol Two French Peasant*.
n FROM THE FRENCH.
Unllie border of the Loire there lived a worthy
peasant, who possessed a cottage with a small
piece of land, which he had beon enabled to pro.
cure only through perseverance. He spent his life
th.'. 1 ’**' 1 '® a,, *J.omeIioraling il, so much so, that
*'* -,la ' not » better domain in the country.
little
I hi, peasant died, leaving two sons to divide his
property. The eldest, who was called Am.
ro,e, desired Jerome his brelher not to divide, but
lva,s together their paternal lierilugo ( butJu-
me Mid it neither coincided with hia taalo nor
-V 0 * few miserable ridges of land j that he
i ' ,oi ** 0,8 N hi* portion , thus treating with con.
,l v 110 evocation of a farmer, and observing,
»h \ 'i” n ° l t * es ' roU3 uf imitating their father,
0 mu worn himself out without being able to
K'l wealthy. 6
I Ambrose told him, thut without being rich they
( | e ,,l!vur "ceded any thing, und as limy had a lit.
,l 1 a' Q " l ’8 n 'hey might hope to bo daily improving
Jcr' r “ lulu ' un ' But it was neodlass to speak to
itihe"* C ' W ^° olmina,B, y wished to dispose of his
thi« erlla '*| e "■ ^ ,n hf°»o was still moro grieved at
diuL J Uli ° n ' hecauso be bad no money to pur-
the •* share. He went, however, to see
him l l ' le on( ^ falatud bis littlo story to
brutli n § him, at tbo samo time, to speuk to bis
idea ° r 'l 111 dissuade Itim from hia extravagant
onvL,. e|,0 , mo did not receive the judge’s advice
t ” 'h &n ‘hat of his brother; but tills cir.
»nco to much awakened the esteem of the
judge in fuvor of Ambrose, thut lie oflerod to lend
him the necessary amount. He hesitated to nc.
cept it, being fearful thut it would nut be in his potv.
er to return it for a long time, hut his patron said,
“Do not be anxious. Prosperity never fuils to
visit the industrious and laborious man who prefers
the estate of his forefathers to the delusive pro
mises of fortune. Your brother only dream* of
giAl and silver, hut I would not lend him a farth.
ing ; while, on the contrary, my purse is ut your
service ; for I have read in a wise author, 'that
poverty will look at the door of tlie laborious man,
hut he dares not enter.’ ”
Ambrose thanked him for his confidence, bought
tho remaining part of the farm, and remained sole
possessor of the cottage, redoubling his activity
and courage, and living with so much economy that
he returned the money much sooner than he ex.
pected.
Jerome purchased a mule and some goods at
lours, and began to do business for himself; hut
he was soon weury of o tedious occupation, where
fortune did not make him rich all at once, for he
disliked work.
He met two merchants at the fair of Bordeaux
one day, who were intending to embark for Surut
with merchandise. They lulkcd to him so odvan.
tagcously of their design, and repeated the names
of so many persons who became rich in the Indies
in a very short time, that Jeronto at once sold his
mule and its load, and resolved to embark wilh
litem.
He bought some goods nnd sailed from his native
land, his heart filled with magnificent hopes.
In tho same vessel which was taking them to Su
rat there was an old jew, but of so wretched an ap
pearance tltut he was disliked by every ono save
Jerome.
This pnor Israelite was also going to Surut, to
endeavor to get wealthy p which did not much
please the merchants, us they disliked to seo their
number increase
They told him that he was too old to think of
making a fortune in so advanced an age, when he
ought to be preparing himselffor death.
“The Almighty will dispose of my days as il
pleusellt him,” tho Jew would reply. “Do 1 not
know that a thousand years are beforo Him as the
day of yesterday, which hath passed away, o-r as a
watch of the night, according to the words of Mos
es 1 But the wise king inviteth us to take exam,
pie by the ant, which is the most laborious of in.
sects ; and, until mine eyes are closed, it behovelh
me to think of the means to sustain my life.”
He suffered very much from sea-sickness, hut
Jerome did his utmost to comfort him. When they
landed at Surat, the Israelite was so much worse
that he was unable to sustain himself. He would
have been abandoned had not Jerome taken him on
his shoulders, and carried him to an inn where he
also lodged.
The two merchants told Jeromo that he was a
fool to burthen himself with that enemy of the
Christians, who did not own a single penny, and
who was of Buch an age that he could not use his
industry, and would only be likely to intorforo with
Jerome’s concerns.
But Jerome felt himself attached lo the unfortun
ate old man, although he knew that what the mer
chants said was true, so he continued to attend him
The jew received nil his kindness in silence,
without exhibiting either fear or gratitude ; until,
feeling sure that his disease increased, and heliev-
ing himself to he at the end of his days, he spoke
to Jerome with a feeble voice, and 6nid,
“My child, I am going to meet my forefathers
Thou hast taken care of mo, without knowing who
I was. I do not know who thou art, hut as thou
hast used me with charity, I cannot doubt but that
thou art a young man who feareth God, and desorv
eth to be rewarded. However wretched I may
seem to thee, I shall nevertheless make thy fortune
and thou will not be under the necessity of labor
ing for it. Be my heir. There is in that small
box diamonds to the value of sixty thousand francs.
It belongs lo ihee from lhis moment."
Jerome could hardly credit his ears on hearing
these words, nnd when he saw that it was indeed
true, his surprise gave way to the most lively joy
and to a gratitude he was unable to express. So
aftor the old Jew died, Jerome hastened to return
to France, to enjoy his great treasure ; and ho was
impatient to show it to his countrymen, nnd to
prove to his brother that ho had been the wisest
“He will sec,”said he, while musing on his hril
liant prospects, “that it is not by romaining at the
plough that one can get sixty thousnnd francs."
He sold his goods, without caring what he got
for them : hut thore is an old ndago, which says
“water always runs lo the river,” lo make us un
derstnnd that fortune prefers showering her fa
vors on the happy, it proved truo in this case
for Jerome obtained enough money by the sale of
his wares to livo while wailing for an opportunity
to re-embark, and even to pity for his passage, so
that the casket of diamonds remained untouched
Ho was returning to his country, his mind filled
with the most fiattering thoughts, when the vesse'
in which lie sailed, which had been for several dayi
struggling against a terrible gale, foundered in tho
midst of tho waves.
Jerome was precipitated into the sea with the
crew, nnd ho seized a floating must, and allowed
himself to ho carried by tho wind and the strong ed
dying current, which carried him nearly exhausted
oh a desert beach. The heal of the suri revived birr;
again he opened his eyes, and seeing that tho temp,
est appeared to he ovor, he felt anxiously for his
diamonds, nnd having found them ho thanked God;
hut soon afterwards a more serious trouble occu
pied his mind, for when he went to reconnoitre thn
place where ho saw nothing to induce him to think
that it was inhabited.
The keen demands of hunger soon began to
mako themselvos felt, and ho tried to oat some of
the plants which ho noticed among the rocks but
their bitterness was intolerable.
“O God I” said lie, turning his eyes to heaven,
“is it possible, that with sixty thousand francs 1
shall he reduced to die of hunger. O I abundance
of my father’s house, how I regrot thee now !—
How gladly 1 would give all the gold and diamonds
of the earth for n single crust of bread I"
•■It would ho uselessly given,’’ screamed a hoarse
voice, which he heard near him, “broad is unknown
in this dosert isle, and these rocks produce no-
ll ' Jerome saw with affright a man of horrible op.
pearanco, wilh a how and arrows : Ho look him
to be u savage ready to devour him; but ho was
soon encouraged, when he learnt from the man that
he had beon shipwrecked (here fen years before,
nnd that he lived only on fishes and birds. IIo led
Jeromo to a kind of hut, which ho had bull will, great
industry, nnd gnve Itim some dried fish ; lie then
related to him that ho was a merchant at Nantes,
where he was rich enough to own two ships which
he sent to tho Indies to trRile for him. ‘Aius
continued ho, “l-ought to have contented myself
with this prosperity, but tho love of gain lost me.
imauined that 1 could double my fortune If I wi
in'person.‘"T ir7 myself away/from my beloved
wife and children, notwithstanding their tear, and
representations of my friends. was siipwiec
ed, and saved ntysoll with groat difficulty here,
whore I have pined for ten yeors. attd where I shall
no doubt, end my unhappy days.
He added to these words the recital of all he had
suffered since his separation from his fello'-’-men,
und of (ho many contrivances by which he had
sustained existence.
All theso details made Jerome despair. He
could not console himself in his misfortunes, and
lie horrible prospect ho had bofore his eyes only
served to increase his woes. Without mentioning
all lie hud to undergo in this island, where the des.
pised little cottage came continually in his memo,
ry os an additional torment, it suffices to say that
the remained there hve years ; at the end of this
time they discovered something floating on the sea,
andtlio wind providentially wafting the object to
wards them, they perceive it to be a long-boat. Af.
ter some exertions they were able to haul it upon
the bench.
With the help of a few resinous trees, they re
paired it, nnd resolved to abandon themselves to
Providence on the ocean, preferring dangers min.
gled with soma hopo to the certainty of passing their
lives in this dreadful banishment.
They embarked with them as much provisions
as was possible,'and cast themselves at the mercy
of the waves, alter having besought the fuvor of
heaven. A rapid current bore them a great dis.
tance from the land, and they fortunately met with
an Fnglish ship, which received them wilh great
humanity.
Joronte still retained his precious casket safe,
which he had several times been tempted lo throw
into the sea while lie stayed on the island. He
then despised its uselessness, but now he begun u-
new to look upon it us an inestimable treasure.—
Jerome and his companion hastened to Dover, to
take tho packet and return lo France. They then
thought tlmt their misfur'.unes were terminated,
hut just as they came in view of their native land,
a second shipwreck assailed them; the packet
struck against a rock. As land was near every
one swam immediately to save his life.
Jeromo took his diamonds, and sprang into the
midst of the foaming waves, with which he cour.
ngeously disputed his life. He gained the shore at
last, but while struggling with the billows he had
lost the casket, and the diamonds had gone to in.
creaso the riches of the deep.
“O Fortune 1” said he, “how thou has sported
with me ! thou hast tossed me about like the grain
which is winnowed in the Imrn. After preserving
for me in my first shipwreck that which was then
unserviceable, now that it is so necessary thou de-
privest me of it I”
While saying these words, he perceived the life
less body of tho companion of his misfortunes.—
This sad spectacle had the effect of making him
resigned to his fate. He reflected that he was
still young, and might gain a livelihood by work
ing as did his brother, and as all his ancestors had
done.
He arose, and returned thanks to the Almighty
for his preservation, and came to some fishermen’s
cabins, whore they gave him victuals and clothing.
Thence lie went towards his country, begging.
—lie was for somo time unable to recognise
the paternal cottage, as it had undergone so
many advantageous alterations. Not only were
the walls neatly whitewashed, but a spacious barn
had been added, besides other buildings of minor
importance.
Largo flocks of cattle reposed around, tho fields
were loaded with a rich harvest, there were fine
Iruit trees in abundance, and every thing announ
ced rural plenty.
Jerome could not imagine that liis brother had
improved so much an estate encumbered wilh debts,
and he supposed that Ambrose had sold it to dis-
charge them, and that he wus probably as wretched
as himself. Nevertheless, he entered the house,
to inquire what had become of him. Two servants,
in a neat garb, were preparing an entertainment,
for which a long table was in readiness.
Pitying poor Joromo’s distress, they hastily gave
him some bread and meat, and told him they wore
too much hurried lo speak to him ; but he begged
of them to inform him where Ambrose Bernard
lived.
“And where should ho live, pray,” said they, “if
he lives not in his own house/”
“What returned the surprised Jerome, “has my
brother become so rich ?”
“Your brother replied the servants, “you must
then be Jerome Bernard, who left here several
years since to make a fortune ? It does not ap
pear that you succeeded, if we are to judge from
your equipage ; and we can toll you thut you come
at a very unseasonable lime. Your brother mar
ries tu.duy a daughter of the rich Mr. Avertain’s
All the company are at church, from whence they
will return lo dinner. Will you, then, be such a
disgrace to our master as to present yoursclt at his
wedding in such tattered clothes ?”
“By no means,” answered Jeromo, "I will with-
draw into the barn, where no one will perceive mo ;
but 1 long to embrace my tloar brother. I entreat
of you to send him to me, if it be possible for him to
leave for an instant.”
The servants promised to do so, and the music
which accompanied the new murried couple was
now heard. Jerome wont lo conceal himself in the
barn, whence lie saw the uedding party enter.—
His brother did not appear changed in the least, un
less it might be that the joy which beamed in his
countenunco gave him u more pleased look than or
dinary. He was walking with a young womun
who seemed to be equally satisfied. Their patents
and friends surrounded them singing und rejoicing.
Pence and Itnppiness unimaled the old ns well us
the young ; ana Jeromo, who remarked it, could
not refrain from shedding teurs, while comparing
their felicity with his own wretchedness, and in the
recollection, that il wus his own fault that he did
not enjoy the same satisfaction. When they had
all entered, ha threw himself sorrowfully on u heap
ofstruw, lo ubandon himself lo his regrets.
The guests were already sealed ut the table,
when Ambrose learnt his brother’s arrival. He
immediately became very thoughtful at this intel-
ligencc, nut tltut ho hesitated to reeeivo him, but
that lie feared to displeuse his wife and his father-
in-law. He called them aside, and apprised them
of Jerome's coming, telling them thut he could
never resolve to cast Jeromo away in his misfor
tunes ; and that he had come so late, as they might
presume tltut he had concealed this circumstance
rum them,so as not to miss a wealthy marriage.
Tho futlier-iti-Iu'.v told him that ho had nothing
of that kind to lear from thorn, that they knew him
lo bo an honost man ; and that his brother, being
blu to work, would rather ho useful to them than
otherwise. His wife kindly added, that since
Jerome had become Iter brother, it would be a duty
to show him friendship. Ambrose, delighted with
their goodness, embraced them both very tender
ly, and desired logo alone lo Jerome. He found
him in great grief, embraced him, and begged itim
to take courage.
Jerome related his adventures.
“Well, my brother," suid Ambrose, “as God did
not wish you lo become rich, you must submit to
His will. You would, certainly, have done better
if you had followed my advice : you would now he
as prosperous as 1 am. For the Lord hath protect-
ed me much, aid my father-in-law has so much
confidenco in mo that he had my house repaired
liimsolf, in order to have his daughter better re
ceived. Be it as it will, for the remainder of your
days you shall not need any thing, ns I am your
ibrother,”
“If you hnd preserved your sixty thousand franc*
um (lersunded you would have shared them wilh
mo, why then should I be less generous I”
Somo person calling Ambrose, interrupted the
conversation. It was his wife, who wns very de-
sirous of seeing Jerome. She came towards him
ith a pleasing countenance, and begged him to
forget his sorrows' She then desired Iter husbnnd
get him neat clothing, and when the two bro.
titers were advancing towards the room in which
tho feast was held, they were met by the bride, who
good-naturedly took Jerome by (he hand,and inlro.
duced him lo the guests, asking them to rejoice at
her brother’s return. Every one seeing him so
well received by the masters of the house, eagerly
hastened lo imitate their example, by treating him
with the greatest politeness. Jerome wept, wilh
gratitude, declaring that he only found happiness
that thatched cottage, tho object of his unjust
contempt. Tlie detail of his adventures astonish-
od the good peasants extremely. The wisest of
them concluded from it, that there are the greatest
crosses and disappointments for those whom the
love ofgain carries far from their peaceful fields j
und on the contrary, that the benediction of the
Lord is diffused on those who remain and cultivate
them.
State, lay a mortgage for eleven hundred dollars,
which was in a few days of being duo. One morn,
ing the man on whose place the mortgage was held,
called und inquired if the payment could not he
put off a short time. He was a man somewhat
advanced in life, nnd very intemperate. The law-
yer in reply to his inquiries, said that the man who
held the mortgage wanted his money—that ho was
sorry, but it could not be extended. The tears
came to the old man’s eyes ; and after standing n
few moments n perfect imago of despair, turned
and left tlie office. He returned home, believing
that in a few short days his aged and infirm wife
ami invalid daughter, would have to quit that roof
which had so long sheltered litem, and seek fora
home ho knew not where.
Missouri Iron Mountain.—The following is an
extiact from a report of Frof. Biiliman’s Lecture
nl New Ilaven, He recently made a mineralogi*
cal tour in Missouri, at the instance we believe of
a Boston Company. There are two of these iron
mountains, he said, situated not far distant from
each other, and forty or filly miles west of the
Mississippi. One of them was about 790, and the
other something morethun 300 feet in height, i. e.
above the level of the surrounding plain. The iron
with which they abound is a peroxyde. consisting
of twenty parts iron, and fourteen parts oxygen—
thus constituting a very rich ore of iron. As you
approach either of these mountains, and before you
get lo them, you find lumps and masses of this form
of Iron, scattered much like the stories of New
England- Advancing you find tho rnttssos in lar-
ger numbers and greater size, and so on up the
mountains till you approach their summits, where
you find one vast capping to tho mountain of these
iron rocks and stones, whose depths have never
been explored. Of course how far they go down
wo do not know, nor what proportion of tho sub.
stances of these mountains is iron, hut we perceive
the quai lity there to be immense, almost hovond
caiculution. Enough to supply the whole human
race, even under the present vast consumption of
iron, with the metal for ages to come. The base
and sides of the mountain, Dr. Silliman, said, ure
thickly and beautifully wooded; even after you
An affectionate Scene.
The New Haven Courier relates tho following
, sviivn’.ifi . j — *~,.j ..uwMQu, even min vuu
in a lawyers office in a remote part of this come to the immense cappings with which the
mountains are rounded oil you find the trees every
where shoot up umong those iron rocks although
you can discover scarce a trace of soil.
1'raudsin Gambling.—Among a number of o.
titers we were present, by invitation, at the room
of Mr. J. II. Green, the reformed Gambler, on
Monday afternoon, when Mr. G. made an exposi
tion lo the frauds commonly practised by regularly
initiated gamblers, not only mere novices, but even
upon practised players, when the latter play “upon
tho square,” as it is termed, that is a fair game,
Six packs of cards, tiro back of each varying in
pattern, one being pure white, were successively
exhibited nnd the private marks so clearly explain,
ed that, in a very few minutes, every ono present
Ho could say nothing to them about it; it would i ' vas enabled to loll each suit or number ot lite card
cause them so much grief. The mortgage be
came due, and in the morning, early, the farmer
ugain repaired to the lawyer’s office. Ho pleaded
for lime, but to no purpose. Overcome with cmo.
lion, the old man sunk in a chair, and there sat for
about two hours, apparently unconscious of any
thing that was passing around him, when a carriage
drove up to the door, und a ludy stepped from it.
She entered the office. After standing a few ma-
ments, eyeing tlie old man with interest and emo
by the hack. In the packs with colored backs
these marks consisted of somo peculiar formation
of the llowers, stripes or stars, while, in the white,
in which the fraud was much more difficult ol do-
lection, the mark was known by the direction in
which the grain of tho paper ran. Enough wus
proven to satisfy all present that, in the munufac.
luring of curds generally, advantages are given lo
the professional gambler which render gaming,
instead uf a science involving judgment and sk
lion, she spoke. The old man looked up, “Fullier, j where the chances are equal,—a perfect swindling
how you do !” j transaction. Of this any one must feel assured
“Oh ! Surah, I am well, but sad. I am glad to , who will cull and witness such nn exposition of tho
soe you, but sorrow for your aged mother; and in- f acts hy Mr. Green as wus givon, before tlie per.
valid sister, i cannot return to them, for il will be | so,,a assembled on Monday ; and wo ore nuthoriz-
to tell them tltut tlioy have no home, and this l can- j to say that Mr. G. will take pleasure in receiving
not hear, it will kill your poor mother,” j the visits of all who may desito to see and be con-
“Falhor! Father!” said the daughter, “could ! vinccd.
iu live a temperate rrnn if this wore paid?” I There is, perhaps,
“Yes! oh, yes, I would, but it cannot be, for I gambling, ever
you
have nothing lo pay it with.”
The father was n lucofoco and violently oppos
ed to tho Tariff. In ilia village was a factory do-
ing a good business. The daughter worked in it.
“Father” said the daughter, “hero is the eleven
hundred dollars,” (taking from her pocket) “of my
own hard earnings, which I have laid up while
no more ruinous vice than
even when the operators are men
possessed ol too much honesty to take any undue
ndvantago ; but when to this known fact is added
evidence, most conclusive, of the perfect system
of swindling it becomes in the Itunds of professed
gamblers, the whole community are interested in
tlie exposition of its glaring deformity and in its
speedy extermination.—And we trust that the etlbrt
working at the factory. Go homo—be—bunny— ! making by Mr. G, in the first will so awaken tho
- I • • • . * iiannlu In I hn ni'noril nnnncniln nf tk.. 1 * . I .
people to the urgent necessity of the last, that mea
sures will immediately bo taken to bring about that
issue.—Ball. Ainer.
GrkenCorn Pudding.—The Louisville Journal
says ono of the finest things over brought to the
table, in tho pudding line, is green corn pudding,
prepared according to tho following rccoipe : Let
every wife, who would like to surprise hut husband
by a ruro delicacy, try it. Take of green corn
twelve cars, nnd grate it. To this add a quart ol
sweet milk, a quarter of a pound of fresh butter,
four eggs, well beaten, pepper and salt, as much
as sufficient ; stir all well together, nnd buke four
hours in n buttered dish. Somo add to the other
ingredients, a quarter of a pound of sugar and cat
tlie pudding with sauce. It is good cold or warm,
with meat or sauce,; but epicures ol the most ex.
quisite taste declare fur it, wo believe, hot, and
with the first service.
A Useful Plant.—The Hon. Mr. Ellsworth
I says, the sun.flower is perhups destined to
! become one of our most vuluable agricultural
I products. One hundred pounds of the seed ufford
ises above them, lo enjoy the sunshine. No uiut* i forty pounds of oil, The refuse of the seed, after
ter how prosperous nn indvidual may be in his pe- I expression, furnishes an excellent food for cattle ;
cuntary, domestic, and social relations—if he suffer 1 from the leaves of the plant, cigars are manulac-
his spirit to be discomposed by trifling annoyances, ' mred of singular pectoral qualities ; the stalk uf.
lie is u stranger lo enjoyment, and every day of fits fords a superior alkali, and the comb of the scuds
life is embittered by some petty cause of vexation, j j s a choice dainty for swine,
which his own morbid disposition magnifies into a | The Olivo, il is also staled by Mr. Ellsworth,
serious calamity. On the other hand, over- j Commissioner of Putenls, may be cultivated in the
whelming misfortune, which can prostrate a man I Southern States, as fur north as tho Uurolinas, Il
that has been disciplined lo palientenduranco, and : w jJ| yield in this country a fair crop for oil at four
habituated himself to a unform cheerfulness of | years old, and at t ight as much as it does in Europe
mind. I at twenty. The tree is of great longevity—living
to he 1000 to 1200 years old.
and never, no never again raiso your voico against
that which has raised you from ruin, nnd is the
greatest blesssiugyour country can enjoy.”
Cheerfulness.—The highest achievement of
moral philosophy is lo riso above the cares, vexa
tions and disappointments of life ; and the tendency
of religion, resting upon a divine basis, buoys tlie
true Christian above the evils that surround him,
and inspires him with moral fortitude and vigor to
buttle with every calamity, and to maintain an un
ruffled spirit amid the billows and conflicting cur
rents which agitate the ocean of human existence.
If the hurricane rages, instead of yielding to its
fury, nnd giving way to Jospondonoy, he exerts ev.
ery energy lo ward off danger, and strives to look
forward, indulging a soothing hope that the future
will he less disastrous than the present. This
method of encountering the evils to which every
body in a greater or a lass degree is exposed, de.
prives disappointment of its sling, is an outilode lo
die poison of slander, and begets a spirit of cheer
fulness which is essential lo huppiness. lie is like the
eigle which, when the clouds overspread the earth,
Wolimm CIOCE.—Th* Rev. Mr. Turnbull
paalor of tha Harvard si. Orarvh, Boston, struts a
loiter daring bto rectal (Avar to Europe, to the
members ofibe Sabbath Soheoi oonnuoled with hia
congregation, in which bo givo ao interesting ac
count of e wonderful work of art. After introduc
ing the letter be proceed* as follows:
There is no subject that I can think of which will
be so likely to interest you es the great astronomi
cal clock, which I saw the other day in thccathe.
dral at Slrntburg. The Cathedral, by the way, is
one of the finest and oldest in Europe, ft is very,
large and its tower or steeple is the highest in the
world. It is 24 feet higher than the great pyra
mid in Egypt, 140 feet higher then St. Paul’s in
London, and three or four times higher than the old
South Church ia Boston.
The astronomical clock stands In the inside, ia
one corner of it, and is a most imposing and beau
tiful edifice. Five or six hundred people visit it
every day at 12 o’clock, when it performs some
extraordinary feats, which I'shall mention present,
ly and several millions in the course of the year.—
There have been two or three elooke ia the earns
place, upon the model of which the present it form
ed ; but it is almost a new one, nod 1 was construct
ed by a mechanic whose name was Schwilgue, In
1838, to whom a nocturnal fete or festival was
given by his fellow citizeos on the occasian of its
completion.
To give you some ides of-the size of this oloc.k, I
will compare it with some other things wilh-wluch-
you are familiar, instead of saying, it was-so many
feet high und so many wide, &c. Well, then you-
remember the size of the post office in Wathington-
street it is as high as that, and about as wide, or at
least nearly so. Its top would reach to the very
summit of our meeting house. On the top of it la
the figure of the prophet Isaiah about as large aslife,
on its two sides are a couple of stairs to go up Into-
Its front is beautifully, painted, and has places
upon which the hours of the day, the days of the
week, the revolution of tho stars, the motion of sun
in the eclyptic, the days of the month,.the season of-
the year, the phases of the sun and moon, and a
great may things, are indicated. Here also-in
niches prepared for them, are moving images of
the Saviour and his twelve nposlles ; Death, and
Time with hi. scythe ; the four ages of human life,
and several other- forms-which I. cannot men
tion.
To give you a littlo farther idea-ol its magnitude,
let me say that there are means of going inside of
nnd thut some ten or fifteen people might stand
together in its very heart and examine its maehin.
ery. Mr. Neale, two other gentlmen-and myself,
with the conductor, went into it and spont about ait
hour there. We went first into-a lower, then into
higher, und then still higher apartment of il and
saw, we think more than a.thousand pieces splon-
lidly polished und alldependent for harmonious ac
tion upon the short thick brass pendulum which-
swings in the center.
But 1 must tell you w.lmt thiaclock-does. Until-'
only points out the hours and the days, ihe-times-
and the seasons, hut the revolutions of the stars, tho
solar, und luner equations, the conjunctions and tho-
eclipses of the heavenly bodies, their positions ni
nny given time, and various changes through which-
tltey puss for thousands of years.. It points out,
apparent time, mean, or real time, and ecclesiasti.
cul time. On its face you see the motion of the.
stars, of the sun nnd planets, of the moon and-her
satellites. Two little cherubs who ait one on uuo-
side, the other on the other strikes the quarters of-
the hour—Death strikes tho hour with a mace,—
while four figures pass and repaas before him, rep
resenting the various stages of human life.
At 12 o’clock every day, when Death strikes 12;
the apostles, who are represented each wilh tho
badge of his martyrdom, come out from the clock
and pas3 before the image of the Saviour, bowing as
they pass, and receiving his benediction, which lie-
gives with a movement of the hand - When tho
Apostle Peter makes his appearance, a gilded cock,.
which is perched on one side of the clock, flaps his-
wings, raises his head, and crows so long and loud
aslo muke the whole Cathedral ring again. This
he repeats three lime9, in memorial of the cock that
crowed three times beforo the fall of Peter, during
the crucifixion of our Saviour. Of course-the clock
makes no noise or motion till the next day at 12-
o’clock, when he repi a. s the same loud and start,
ling crow, flapping his wings and raising his head.
The Power of Memory.—Seneca]snys ho could
in his youth repeat a thousand names in the same
order us they were road to him. Thcmistccles
made himself master of the Pcrcian language iu a
yeui's time. Mithridales understood ns many
Improved Steam Engine.—We have been in.
formed of an important engine, worked by steam,
which, ns explained to us, is not only novel, but if
really what it is represented to be, will, wo think,
languages us he commanded nations, that is, no less - add much to tho already great value of the slca
Albanian,
than twenty two. Cyrus retained tho ttamo of i engino
every soldier in the army. Tully suys of Julius ! working in each cylinder, and will entirely avoid
Ccesar.in his orntion for Ligarus, that he never i the “dead centre.” 'I his engine is the result of
forgot anything but injure. A git I at u Sabbath the combined lubor of two young engineers, one of
evening sellout in the north, repeated tho 110th whom has spent seven mid tho other five years iu
psnlm in prose, without a mistake. A blind man, j order to perfect it. The names of tho inventors
who lived in Sterling, could repeat the whole Hi- I aro William H. Pulver und llonry R. Smith, for.
ble, which he lmd acquired by hearing children 1 rnerly of Albany, but now residing in Troy
read at school. He used to say that if he heard
anything read twice he never forgot it afterwards.
—Mr. Wesley, remarks Thomas Walsh, was so
thoroughly acquainted wilh the Bible, if ho was
questioned concerning any Hebrew word in the
Old, or Greek in the New Testament, he would
tell after it little pause, not only how often one or
the other occurred in the Bible, hat also what it
meant in every place.—
The Glanders.—Messrs. Editors,— While
writing, 1 will mention n fact for your Veterinary
lepurtment. More than 30 years since the glut),
ders of llto most virulent kind, wns umongst the
horses of the neighborhood in which my father liv
ed.—Great numbers died off. Hia Itorso was tuk.
en.uud under iltu belief that ho also would die, my
father commenced an experiment on him with
a strong decoction of tobacco,given internally. In
a abort time the horse broke out nil over his body
iu sores. Theso cured u - in n month or so, and
the horse was sound, booh fatted, and was, as long
as I know him afterwards, a sound and healthy uni-
null. This was tire only hor.se in ull the neighbor
hood that recovored.—Somo farmers in this vicini
ty. noted for ftno sleek horses, give occussionally
Scotch snuff lo their horses. J. B. Coax.
Albany Cull.
The Salem, N. J. Standard, heretofore a neutral
paper, has hoisted the Clay and Frelinghcysen
Flag.
A Clay Omen.—A gentleman, but just returned
from a tiip into the interior of our own und adjoin
ing Stutcs, relates to us llto following little inci
dent, which may reasonably be set down as an
“omen."
An intimation was given at Bedford Springs on
Moiiuuy lust,that two balloons would he rent up,
one labelled “Clay and the ollter“Polk,“and in con*
eqttence a large crowd wus gathered to witness
the race, it the ascension might be so termed. At
the appointed hour both balloons were eliurgi-d, and
having been duly balanced, wero let go ut the samo
moment, Tho hearts of the Locofocos beat with
triumph us the Polk balloon rose uoovc its competi-
; but their joy was of short durulion. for a sud.
den gust of wind luid the “Polk” upon its side, and
at tlie same moment thn Clay balloon soared ma
jestically fur upward and onward toward the west
until lost to the eye, still maintaining its advanced
and elevated position.
This may or may not be taken for un omen, but
it is cerluiiily as good ns any one that Mr- Kendall
bus fuvored tho world with,— U. S. Gazelle.
Introduction of Printing.— 1 The Rev. Jesse-
Glover, u worthy and wealthy dissenting cletgy.
man of England, says the Boston Traveller, .may,
be considered a* the father of the American press.
This benefactor uf the infant colony of Massachu
setts was early engaged in pursuing such measures
as lie judged would be for its interest and prosperi
ty. Among other things; he was desirous of estab
lishing a press for the accommodation of the busi
ness of the church and State. To raise a sum.
sufficient to purchase printing materials, he con
tributed liberally himself, and solicited aid front-
others, in England and Holland, In 1638, Ml*.
Glover having obtained the means, procured a good-
printing apparatus, and ongaged a printer to - no-
company it to New England. Mr. Glover, will)
his family einburkcd into tho same vessel, he, how
ever, died on the pnssago, and his widow and chil.
dren, after their arrival, settled at Cambridge.
.Stephen Dayo, (the printer engaged by Mr. Glov-
er,) by the direction of tho magistrates and elders,
having erected (lie press and prepared the oilier
parts of tlio apparatus, began business iu the Itr9t
month of 1639. The first thingjssued from the
press was the Freeman’s Oath ; the second at:
Almanac ; and tho third, the Psalms in metre.
Sameet Green the successor of Daye in the
printing business, wns in Cambridge eight years
beforo the arrivulof Daye from England. Green,
probably obtained a knowledge of the art from
Daye, us he was not known as a printer until
about the year 1649. Mr. Green died at Cam.
bridge, in 1702, aged eighty-seven years. He was
esteemed for his virtues, and was the fatherofuine.
teen children. For n long period, many of tho de.
sceiidunts of his name have been engaged in the
printing business.—Native American.
An Olu Jersey Blue Gone,—Cornelius Wells
died on Sunday evening ut his residence in Wusl>.
ington, near Princeton, aged 94. He was in the
battles ol'Trenton and Princeton, in the last of
which he received a bayonet wound which the
W big says, affected him to tlie end of! his life' He
was in tho frigule Confederacy when it was taken,
and u as sent to a British prison ship in New York,
from which he was released in the Autumn of 17-
8t. He continued in service to tho end of the
war, and received an honorable discharge.
Connubial.—If your sister, whilo tenderly en
gaged in a tender conversation, with her tender
sweetheart, asks you to bring n glass of water from
an adjoing room, you can start on the errand, hut
you need not return' You'll nut be missed that’s
certain ; we’ve seen il tried.
M ,jor Noah, hia paper says—“We saw r rich
man vi ho stole a hundred thousand dollars, acting
as counsel for a poor fellow locked up in the
Tombs on a charge of pilfering an old pair of
breeches from a gentleman’s busement. The
great villain, who was clad in purple and fine linen,
rubbed from principle ; the small rascal, in tatters,
forfeited his liberty from brute instinct for seif-pre.
snrvation, because ho was hungry. Tho former
is honored and caressed by thn world, the latter
spurned from all society. And yet u Providence
and vigilant public functionaries watch over all.
A Powerful Ally.—Thomas Lnring, Esq., for
many years tho Editor of the North Carolina Stan*
dard, then ami now tha mouth-piece of tho iocofo-
co parly of tlx* Stale, disgusted witli the double
dealing und hypocriticni professions of his party,
gives notice iu tlio lust pnpor, the “Independent,"
of his intention lo run up the Clay and Frelinghuy.
son flag. So wc go. We consider his change of
tenets us u must rctnarkuble illustration of the
soundness of the aphorism tlmt “Truth is mighty
and will prevail,”
