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About News & planters' gazette. (Washington, Wilkes County [sic], Ga.) 1840-1844 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 19, 1841)
NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE. D. Cl. COTTING, Editor. No. 51.— NEW SERIES.] NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE. terms: Published weekly at Three Dollars per annum, if paid at the time of subscribing; or Three Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid till the expi ration of six months. No paper to be discontinued, unless at the option of the E ditor, without the settlement of all arrearages. ’ O’ Letters, on business, must he post paid, to insure attention. No communication shall be published, unless wc are made acquainted with the name of the author. TO ADVERTISERS. Advertisements, not exceeding one square, first insertion, Seventy-five Cents; and for each sub sequent insertion, Fifty Cents. A reduction will be made of twenty-five per cent, to those who advertise by the year. Advertisements not limited when handed in, will be inserted till for bid, and charged accordingly. Sales of Land and Negroes by Executors, Ad ministrators, and Guardians, are required by law, to be advertised, in a public Gazette, sixty days previous to the day of sale. The sales of Personal Property must be adver tised in like manner, forty days. Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must be published forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary, for leave to sell Land or Ne groes, must be published weekly for four months; notice that application will be made for Letters of Administration, must be published thirty days; and Letters of Dismission, six months. AGENTS. TIIE FOLLOWING GENTLEMEN WILL FORWARD THE NAMES OF ANY WHO MAY WISH TO SUBSCRIBE : J. T. G. 11. Wooten, A. 1). Statham, Danburg, Mallorysville, B. F. Tatom, Lincoln- Felix G. Edwards, Pe- ton, tersburg, Elbert, O. A. Luckett, Grawford- Gen. Grier, Raytown, ville, Taliaferro, ‘ W. Davenport, Lcxing- James Bell, Powelton, ton, Hancock, S. .1. Bash, Irwington, W/n. B. Nelms, Elber-| Wilkinson, ton, \Dr. Cain, Cambridge, John A. Simmons, Go- Abbeville District, shen, Lincoln, I South Carolina. Mail Arrangements. POST OFFICE, ) Washington, Ga., January, 1841. $ AUGUSTA MAIL. ARRIVES. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 5, A. M. CLOSES. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at 2J, P. M. MILLEDGEVILLE MAIL. ARRIVES. Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 8, A. M. CLOSES. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 11, A. M. CAROLINA MAIL. ARRIVES. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 11, A. M. CLOSES. Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 8, A. M. ATHENS MAIL. ARRIVES. Sunday and Wednesday, at 9, A. M. CLOSES. Sunday and Wednesday, at 9, A. M. ELBERTON MAIL. ARRIVES. CLOSES. Thursday, at 8, P. M. j Thursday, at 8, 1. M. LINCOLNTON MAIL. ARRIVES. CLOSES. Friday, at 12, M. | Friday, at 12, M. ” COTTING & BUTLER, attornies, Have taken an OFFICE over Cozart & Woods Store. March 11,1841. iDlssolutlon THE Copartnership heretofore existing be tween Drs. WINGFIELD & PALMER, is this day dissolved by mutual consent. JAMES N. WINGFIELD. GEORGE W. PALMER. July 13,1841. 49 DOCTOR PALMER, has taken the Office formerly occupied by him at his residence. July 15,1841. 40 For Sale • a a The Subscriber offers for sale, the . premises on the Northeastern corner • ot the Square, at present occupied by Mr. R- H- Vickers, as a Tavern.— From .us convenient locality, it is well suited for either a Tavern, private Boarding-house, or a private Residence. Any one disposed to pur chase, can do so upon reasonable terms. JAMES N. WINGFIELD. July 8,1841. 45 BLANKS SHERIFFS, CLERKS, &c..,canbe supplied with the following BLANKS, at the Office of the News and Gazette : Sheriff’s Deeds, Sheriff’s Executions, Tax Collector’s do. Ca. Sa’s. Letters of Administration, Do. do. with will annexed, Do. Dismission, Do. Guardianship, Administrator’s Bonds, Guardian’s do. Delivery do. Subpoenas, Bench Warrants, r Recognizances, Writs of Assumpsit, Do. Dobt, Commissions for Interrogatories, Warrants of Appraisement, Marriage Licences, &c. &c. O’ Any kind of Blanks can be furnished at short notice. April, 18-n. a NEW ENGLAND’S DEAD. “ I shall enter on no encomium upon Massa chusetts—she needs none. There she is—be hold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her history. The world knows it by heart. The past, is at least secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker-Hill—and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, falling in the great, struggle for inde pendence, now lie mingled with the soil of every State, from New England to Georgia—and there wiil remain forever.”— Webster's Speech. New England’s dead ! New England’s dead ! On every hill they lie ; On every field of strife made red By bloody victory. Each valley, where the battle poured Its red and awful tide, Beheld the brave New England sword With slaughter deeply dyed. Their hones are on the Northern hill, And on the Southern plain, By brook and river, lake and rill, And by the roaring main. The land is holy where they fought, And holy where they fell; For by their blood tiie land was bought, Tire land they loved so well. Then glory to that valiant band, The honored saviours of the land ! O, few and weak their numbers were— A handful of brave men ; But to their God they gave their prayer, And rushed to battio then ; ‘File God of battles heard their cry, And sent to them the victory. They left tiie plough-share in the mould, Their docks and herds without a fold, The sickle in tiie unshorn grain, The corn, half garnered, on the plain, And mustered, m their simple dress, For wrongs to seek a stern redress To right those wrongs, come weal, come wo, To perisii or o’ercome their foe. And where are ye, O fearless men ! And where are ye to-day ! I call: —the hilts reply again That ye have passed away ; That on old Bunker’s lonely height, In Trenton and in Monmouth ground, The glass grows green, the harvest bright, Above each sold.er’s mound. The bugle’s wild and warlike blast Shall muster them no more ; An army now might thunder past, And they heed not its roar; Tiie starry iiag ’neatli which they fought, In many a bloody fray, From their old gra\es shall rouse thorn not, For they have passed away. MISCELLANEOUS, From the U. S. Magazine, for August. DEATH IN THE SCHOOL ROOM. A FACT. Ting-a-ling-ling !—went the little bell on the teacher’s desk of a village-school one morning, when the studies ofthe earli er part of the clay were about half comple ted. It was well understood that this was a command for silence and attention ; and when these had been obtained, the master spoke, lie was a low thick-set man, and his name was Lugare. “ Boys,”said lie, “I have a complaint entered that last night some of you were stealing fruit from Mr. Nichol’s garden. I ; rather think l know the thief. Tint Dar ker, step up here, sir.” The one to whom he spoke came for ward. He was a slight, fair-looking boy about fourteen ; and his face had a laugh ing, good-humored expression, which even the charge now preferred against him, and the stern tone and threatening look of the teacher, had not entirely dissipated. The countenance ofthe boy, however, was too unearthly fair for health ; it had, notwith standing its fleshy’, cheerful look, a singu lar cast as if some inward disease, and that a fearful one, was seated within. As the strippling stood before that place of judge ment, that place, so often made the scene ofheartless and coarse brutality, of timid innocence confused, helpless childhood out raged, and gentle feelings crushed—Lu gare looked on him with a frown which plainly told that lie felt in no very pleasant mood. Happily a worthier and more phi losophical system is proving to men that schools can be better governed, than by lashes and tears and sighs. We arc wax ing toward that consummation when one of the old fashioned school masters, with his cowhide, his heavy birch-rod, and his many ingenious methods of child-torture, will be gazed upon as a scorned memento of an ig norant, cruel, and exploded doctrine. May propitious gales speed that day ! “ Were you in Mr. Nichol’s garden fence last night ?” said Lugare. “ Yes, sir,” answered the boy : “ I was.” “ Well, sir, I’m glad to find you so ready with your confession. And so y r ou thought you could do a little robbing, and enjoy yourselfin a manner you ought to be a shamed to own, without being punished, did you ?” “ I Lave not been robbing,” replied the hoy quickly. His face was suffused, whether with resentment or fright, it was difficult to tell. “And 1 didn’t do anything last night that I’m ashamed to own.” “ No impudence !” exclaimed the teach er passionately', as he grasped a long and rfccavy rafftn : “give me none of your sharp WASHINGTON, (WILKES COUNTY, GA.,) AUGUST SO, IS 11, speeches,or I’ll thrash vou till you beg like a dog.” The youngster’s face paled a little : his lip quivered, but lie did not speak. “ And pray, sir,” continued Lugare, as the outward signs of wrath disappeared from his features ; “ what were you about the garden idl’? Perhaps you only re ceived the plunder, and had an accomplice to do the more dangerous part of the job ?” “ I went that way because it is on my road home. I was there again afterward to meet an acquaintance ; and—and—Rut I did not go into the garden, nor take any’ tiling away from it. I would not steal, — hardly to save myself from starving.” “ You had better have stuck to that last evening. Your were seen, Tim Baker, to come from under Mr. Nichols’ garden fence a little after nine o’clock, with a hag full of something or other, over your shoulders. The hag had every appearance of being filled with fruit, and this morning the mel on-beds are found to have been completely cleared. Now sir, what was there in that bag ?” Like fire itself glowed the face of the de tected lad. He spoke not a word. All the school had their eyes directed at him. The perspiration ran down his white forehead like rain-drops. “Speak, sir !” exclaimed Lugare, with a loud strike of his ratan on thedesk. The boy looked as though he would faint. But the unmerciful teacher, confident of having brought to light a criminal, and ex ulting in the idea ofthe severe chastisement he should now he justified in inflicting, kept working himself up to a still greater de gree of passion. In the mean time the child seemed hardly to know what to do with himself. Ilis tongue clave to the roof of his mouth. Either he was very much frightened, or he was actually un well. “ Speak, I say !” again thundered Lu gare ; and his hand grasping iiis ratan, towered above his head in a very significant manner. “ I hardly can, sir,” said the poor fellow faintly. His voice was husky and thick. 1 “ I will tell you some—some other time.— j Please to let me go to my seat —I ain’t well. | “Oh yes ; that’s very likely,” and Mr. j Lugare bulged out his nose and cheeks | with contempt. “Do y'ou think to make ;me believe your lies ‘? I’ve found you out i sir, plainly enough : and I am satisfied that | you arc as precious a little villain as there is in the -State. But l will postpone set tling with you for an hour yet. 1 shall then call you up again ; and if you don’t ] tell me the whole truth then, I will give you something that’ll make you remember Mr. Nichols’melons for many a month to come :—go to your seat.” Glad enougli of the ungracious permis sion, and answering not a sound, the child crept tremblingly to his bench. He felt very strangely, dizzily—more than if he was in a dream than in real life ; and laying his arms on his desk, bowed down his face be tween them. The pupils turned to their accustomed studies, for during the reign of Lugare in the village school, they had been so used to scenes of violence and severe chastisement, that such things made hut lit tle interruption in the tenor of their way. Now, while the intervening hour is pas sing, we will clear up the mystery of the bag, and of young Barker being under the garden-fence on the preceding night. The hoy’s mother was a widow, and they both had to live in the very narrowest limits.— His father had died when ho was six years old, and little Tim was left a sickly ema ciated infant whom no one expected to live many months. To the surprise of all, however, the poor child kept alive, and seemed to recover his health, as lie certain ly did his size and good looks. This was owing to the kind offices of an eminent physician who had a country-seat in the neighborhood, and who had been interested in the widow’s little family. Tim,the phy sician said, might possibly outgrow his dis ease ; hut every thing was uncertain. It was a mysterious and baffling malady ; and it would not be wonderful if he should I in some moment of apparent health be sud- j denly taken away. The poor widow was at first in a continual state of uneasiness ; ; but several years had now elapsed, and: none of the impending evils had fallen upon this boy’s head. His mother seemed to feel confident that lie would live, and be a help and an honor to her old age : and the two struggled on together, mutually happy in each other, and enduring much of poverty and discomfort without repining, eacli for the other’s sake. Tim’s pleasant disposition had made him many friends in the village, and among the rest a young farmer named Jones, who with his elder brother, worked a large farm in the neighborhood on shares. Jones very frequently made Tim a present of a bag of potatoes or corn,or some garden vegetables, which he took from his own stock ; but as his partner was a parsimonious, high-tem pered man, and had often said that Tim was an idle fellow, and ought not to be helped because he did not work, Jones gen erally made his in such a manner that no one know any thing about them, except himself and the grateful objects of his kind ness. It might he, too, that the widow was loath to have it understood by the neighbors that she received food from any one ; for there is often an excusable pride in people of her condition which makes them shrink from being considered as objects of “chari ty” as they would from the severest pains. On the night in question Tim had been told tlmt .Tones would send them a bag of pofa PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING. j toes, and the place at which they were to I be waiting for him was fixed at Mr. Nich ols’ garden-fence. It was this hag that Tim had been seen staggering under, and which caused the unlucky boy to be ac cused and convicted by his teacher as a thief. That teacher was one little fitted for ! Ins important and responsible office. I lusty to decide, an inflexibly severe, ho was the terror ofthe little world lie ruled so despot ically. Punishment lie seemed to delight in. Knowing little of those sweet foun tains which in children’s breasts ever open ] quickly at the call of gentleness and kind j words, ho was feared by all for his stern ness. and loved by none. I would that, he were an isolated instance in his profession. The hour of grace had drawn to its close and the time approached at which it was i usual for Lugare to give his school a joy | fully-received dismission. Now and then i one of the scholars would direct a futive I glance at Tim, sometimes in pity, some ! times in indifference or inquiry. They I knew that he would have no mercy shown ; him, and though most of them loved him, | whipping was too common there to exact ! much sympathy. Every inquiring glance however, remained unsatisfied, for at the lend ofthe hour, Tim remained with liis face completely hidden, and his head bowed in his arms, precisely as he had leaned himself when he first went to his seat.—- Lugare looked at the boy occasionally with a scowl which seemd to bode vengeance for his sullenness. At length the last class had been heard, and the last lesson recited, and Lugare seated himself behind his desk on the platform, with li is longest and stout est ratan before him. “ Now, Barker,” he said, “we’ll settle that little business of yours. Just step up here.” Tim did not move. The school-room was as still as the grave. Not a sound was to be heard, except occasionally a long drawn breath. “ Mind me, sir, or it will he the worse for you. Step up hero, and take off vour jack et !” The hoy did not stir any more than if he had been of wood. Lugare shook with pas sion. He sat still a minute, as if consider ing the best way to wreak his vengeance. That minute, passed in death-like silence, was a fearful one to some of the children, for their faces whitened with fright. It seemed, as it slowly dropped away, like the minute which precedes the climax of an exquisitely-performed tragedy, when some inightv master of the histrionic art is trea ding the stage, and you, and the multitude around you are waiting, with stretched nerves and suspended breath, in expecta tion ofthe terrible catastrophe. “ Tim’s asleep, sir,” at length said otic ofthe boys who sat near him. Lugare, at this intelligence, allowed his features to relax from their expression of savage anger into a smile, but that smile looked more malignant, if possible, than bis former scowls. It might be that he felt a mused at the horror depicted on the faces of those about him ; or it might be that he was gloating in pleasure on the way in which he intended to wake the poor little slurnberer. | “ Asleep ! arc you my young gentle man !” said he ; “let us see if we can’t find something to tickle your cybs open.— There’s nothin'; like making the best of a bad case, boys. Tim, here, is determined not to he worried in his mind about a little flogging, for the thought of it can’t even keep the little scoundrel awake.” Lugare smiled again as he made the last observation. He grasped bis ratan firmly, and descended from his seat. With light and stealthy steps he crossed the room, and stood by the unlucky sleeper. The boy was still as unconscious of his impend ing punishment as ever. He might bo dreaming some golden dream of youth and pleasure ; perhaps he was far away in the world of fancy, seeing scenes, and feeling delights, which cold reality never can bc i stow. Lugare lifted his ratan high over his head, and with the true and expert aim which he had acquired by long practice, t brought it down on Tim’s hack with a force and whacking sound which seemed suffi cient to awake a freezing man in his last lethargy. Quick and fast, blow followed blow. Without waiting to sec the effect of | the first cut, the brutal wretch plied his in- I strument of torture first to one side of the boy’s back, and then on the other, and only stopped at the end of two or three minutes from very weariness. Butstill Tim showed no sign of motion ; and as Lugare, provoked at his torpidity, jerked away one of the child’s arms, on which he had been leaning over on thedesk, his head dropped down on the board with a dull sound, and his face lay turned up and exposed to view. When Lugare saw it, he stood like one transfixed by a basilisk. His countenance turned to a leaden whiteness ; the ratan dropped from his grasp ; and his eyes, stretched wide open, glared as at some monstrous specta cle of horror and death. The sw’eat star ted in sreat globules seemingly from everv pore in his face; his skinny lips contracted, and showed his teeth ; and when lie at length stretched forth his arm, and with tiie end of one of his fingers touched the child’s cheek, eacli limb quivered like the longue of a snake ; and his strength seemed as though it would momentarily fail him.— The boy was dead. He had probably been so for some time, for his eyes was turned up, and his body was quite cold. The widow w’as now childless too. Death was in the school-room, and Lugare had been flogging a corpse W • W. v- C -T> TIIE LEGAL PROFESSION. We made some selections in yesterday’s | Gazette, from the addresses of two respec- | table and able judges who had lately with- j drawn Irom the bench, in which they speak in becoming terms ofthe Legal Profession ; and these selections were published because first, they pay a high but deserved compli ment to the lawyers of this country, as a class ; and secondly, because we wish at least to set our face against an attempt which has been made for years past, and insidiously cherished by party demagogues of a certain kidney, to get up a mad dog cry against every man who practices in a court of law or hangs out his tin sign, lettered “ Attorney.” There arc in the legal, as in every other profession, or occupation, good and bad—and, as the flour dealers say, from superfine to middling ; but so far from there being any thing either in the study or the practice of law, to render those engaged in it obnoxious in their principles or pursuits. S directly the reverse is true. That other senseless notion, 100, that lawyers are sep arate, apart and distinct from the mass ofthe people, ought, also, to be exploded. We contend that a good lawyer devoted to his profession and actively engaged in it. is a working man to all intents and purposes. And indeed there is no class of men, more hound by interest to the people, whose busi ness in all its ramifications, they are called upon sometimes to lake hold of in the way of adjustment or settlement. Besides, uT would appeal to history, to the records of the past, and to the experience of all, to show that Lawyers have always been the; friends of liberty, and the championsof pop- | ular rights—of liberty regulated so as to confer the greatest happiness upon the great est number, and ofthose rights which secure the enjoyment of life, liberty, and the pur suit of happiness. And this too, not as fol lowers in the train of adventurous spirits, hut as leaders themselves in the great work of melioration and improvement. In what we have here said, of course, we are far from including the men of principle in pro- i portion to their interest, and the pettifog- j gers who hang on the skirts of the profes sion and disgrace it, as far as they can do so, by their connexion.— Alexandria Ga zette.’ We iiave seen it stated in one of the Western papers, that Joe Smith, the Mor mon, once paid a visit to Keokuek, the In- I dian Chief, and attempted to persuade him ;to embrace the Mormon creed, lie told the | Indian that Mormonism would prevent the bullets from injuring him, and that he had ! himself been shot three times, and not hurt. | Keokuek then requested Joe to stand sixty j paces off, at which distance he would shoot | at him three times with his riile, and if he | remained unharmed, the Indian promised Ito embrace Mormonism. This was rather j too much for Joe, and he accordingly back ed out, refusing to take him on “ those con- J ditions.” Hartford Times. Burglary, and Burglar Browned. —The Cuhawba (Ala.) Democrat, relates a sin gular incident, in which the following are the particulars : On the night of the 20 th of June, the store of Messrs. I. Colo & Cos, of Cahawba, was entered, with a design to rob \ the same. The burglar was frustrated by j the unexpected arrival of one of the clerks at the store. On finding himself detected,! he passed through a window, got on the top ; of the shed, from which he jumped to the ground, a heigtli of about 12 feet. The a larm was soon given, and he was pursued by several persons, when to prevent being taken, he ran into the river, and being un able to swim, was drowned. Ilis body was found a day or two afterwards, about half a mile below the spot, and evidences found on his person to identify him as the individual who had committed the burglary. lie was recognized as a negro belonging to the plan tation of Mr. Hobsor., in the vicinity, lie bad obtained possession of a large sum of money,(besides valuable goods, all of which j were left behind in his flight. A Fat Joke. —Dixon 11. Lewis, a mem ber of Congress from Alabama,weighs some thing less than halfa ton. A wag in Wash ington said liis epitaph has already been; written by Byron. The proper inscription i for his tombstone would be— “ Tis grease but livinggrea.se no more !"’ PRIVATE SCENE. “ Mrs. Squiggins, what is that thing?” ! “ Thing ! Mr. Squiggings?— do you call my bustle a thing ?” “ Bustle ! Good Heavens ! (with horror in every feature,) yet; wear a bustle Mrs. Squiggings ?” “ /— wear — a — hustle ?—to be sure I do —Mr. Squiggings—to be sure I do, wear a bustle.” “ Well, well—the next thing I suppose will be false teeth.” “Yes Sir—yes, Air. Squiggings, (pulling out, as it seemed to the shocked Squiggings her entire jaw,) yes—there sir, there !” “ Gracious Heavens !” groaned Squig gins—“two days married, and my fashion able wife a mere patch and batch.—Here Tom ” “ Sir !” “ Order up my horse !” Extract from the “ Texas Gazelle. Arrived this day, the distinguished Jon athan Squiggings, Esq., from the U. States. P. S. We are pained to state that Mr. Jonathan Squiggins blew out his brains shortly after his arrival. Cause, domestic 1 rntih* . IS. .. li APPEL, Printer. From the Knickerbocker. FUNERAL CEREMONIES OF MOD ERN GREECE. A sick man has just breathed his last; his wife, mother, daughters, sisters, in a word, sucli of liis nearest female relatives as are at hand, close his eyes am mouth, each giving free course to the grief inflict ed by the calamity, according to her dispo sition and the strength of her attachment. The first duty discharged, they all with draw to the house of some relation or friend in the vicinity, where they change their garments and array themselves in white, and as for the nuptial ceremony, except that their heads are uncovered and their hair unbound and pendant. While they are thus occupied, other women are attend ing to the corpse ; they clothe it from head to foot in the best apparel, and in this state lay it upon a very low bed, with the face uncovered and turned towards the east, and the arms crossed upon the breast. These preparations being over, tiie rela tives return in their mourning-dress to the ; house, leaving the doors open, so that all the women of the place, friends, neighbors, or strangers, may enter after them. A cir cle is formed around the corpse, and their grief breaks out anew, and, as before, with out measure or restraint, in tears, shrieks or words. These irrepressible and simul taneous plaints are soon followed by lamen tations of a different .nature, that is to sa\ . by myriologous. Ordinarily that of the nearest relative comes first ; after her, the remaining relatives, friends, or mere neigh | hors ; in a word, all the women on the spot. | who possess the ability, bestow this last tri j bute of affection, one after another, and I sometimes numbers together. Not unfre -1 quently there art; found in the circle of a. ! sistants, women who have recently lost one ; of their own kindred, whose hearts are yet | overflowing with sorrow, and who have j some communication to make him. In the j dead before them, they behold a messenger who will convey to the dead for whom they j mourn, fresh testimony of their recollection i and regret, and in consequence a inyrio logue destined for the latter, is delivered to the former. Others content themselves with throwing on the deceased bouquets of flowers, or various little articles, which 1 they implore him to be so good as to trans | mit to their friends in the other world. : The delivery ofthe myriologues is not in ! terrupted until the arrival ofthe priests to accompany the corpse to the place of inter j ment, and is still prolonged until the funeral procession has reached the church. They ccasc while the priests are engaged in prayer and singing, but recommence as the body is about to be lowered into the grave. Nor do they end with the rites of sepulture, but are renewed on fixed occasions for an indefinite space of time. First, for a whole year from the day on which the death has taken place, the females ofthe family are permitted to sing myriologues only ; every j other song, however melancholy, however 1 befitting the most serious impressions w hich j the idea of death, the grave, and last fare ■ well can produce, would he reputed a di ! version incompatible with the reverence { due to the dead. Nor is this all ; whenev j er they go to church, the women seldom o- I mit, either before or after diviue.serviee, to | meet at tiie temb and reiterate the adieu of | the burial-day. When one of their relatives dies in a for i eign land, an image of the person is laid j upon the funeral bed, partially clad in the | garments ofthe individual whom it repre | sonts, and is then addressed with the samo i lamentations as if it were a real body.— These myriologues arc still more full of sadness than others, as the inability to de posit and preserve in consecrated ground the remains of the beloved object is regard ed as adding to the weight ofthe affliction. Mothers also compose for their deceased infants myriologues which are often exqui sitely pathetic. The child is bewailed un der the emblem of.*, flower, a bird, or any thing in nature sufficiently beautiful for a mother’s fancy to experience pleasure ill conceiving a resemblance between it and her lost darling. MATRIMONY. Thomas Bestad, Esq., fellow of tiie New College, 1588, wrote the following Epi gram on three wives : Though marriage by some is reckoned a curse. Three wives did I marry, for better or for worse ; ‘l’lie first for her person—the next for her purse, The third for a warming-pan, doctress and nurse. The above reminds us of a clergyman whose first wife was immensely rich, his second exquisitely beautiful, and his third, whom lie married in liis old age to nurse and comfort him in the decline of life, prov ed to have a most ungovernable temper.— Ho observed to one of liis friends, that he had three wives—the world, the flesh, and the devil. N. Y. Atlas. A Sailor's notion of a Funeral on shore 1 “ Why, what d'ye think they does with the dead ashore ?” said an old tar who had spent nearly all his days on board of her Majesty’s ships, and happened to see for the first time a funeral on shore. “ How should 1 know,” said his shipmate. “ Why then, Bill, may I never stir,” replied Jack, “ but they puts ’em in boxes and directs ’em. ’ All men are masked ; the world is one universal disguise, each individual endea voring to fathom liis neighbor’s intentions, at the same time wishing to hide his own, and. above all, striving to secure a reputft |,ln character rather bv words than deed® [VOLUME XXVI.
