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From the Ladies’ World of Fashion.
THE MINISTER’S DINNER.
BY MISS LYDIA JANE I‘IERSON.
The Reverend Mr. N was a man of
excellent temper, generous feelings, and
well cultivated mind, but lie was eccentric
even to oddity. lie was a powerful prea
cher, and his ministration was blest to the |
reformation of many in his parish. At the i
age of thirty-four he became enamored of a j
beautiful light-hearted girl of seventeen, 1
daughter to one of his richest parishioners,
and who imagined that to refuse the hand
of the minister would be a sin bordering
hard upon the unpardonable. Well, the
marriage was consummated, the bride’s fat
portion paid ; and tfie husband, as hus
bands in their first love are apt to do, gave
in to the humor of his wife, and accompa
nied her to several festive parties given by
his wealthy neighbors, in honor of his mar
riage.
The happy couple were sitting together
in their comfortable parlor, one evening to
ward spring, the reverend gentleman study
ing the Venerable Rede, and bis wife equal
ly intent upon a plate of the latest fashions,
when she suddenly looked up with an ex
pression between hope and fear, and thus
addressed her companion :
“ My dear husband, I have a request to
make.”
“ Well, Nancy, any thing consistent.”
“ You do not imagine that I would make
an inconsistent request, surely V’
“ No—not a request you considered in
consistent. But come, what is it ?”
“ Why, my dear sir,” and her voice
trembled a little, “ we have been to several
parties among the neighboring gentry, and
now I think that to maintain our position in
society, we should make a party too.” The
minister looked blank.
“ What sort of a party, Nancy ?” he
said at length.
“ Why,” she replied, “ such a party as
those we have attended. We must make
an elegant dinner, and have dancing after
it
“ Dancing ! in a minister’s house !” e
jaculated Mr. N .
“ Why, yes, certainly,” replied his wife,
coaxingly. “ You will not dance, the par
ty will be mine ; and then we have been to
similar parties all winter.”
“ True, true,” he muttered with a per
plexed air, and sat silent for some time as
if considering. At length he spoke. ‘‘Yes,
Nancy, you may make a party, give a din
ner, and if the guests desire it, you may
dance.”
“ Thank you, love,” she cried, putting
her arms around his neck.
“But 1 have some stipulations to make
about it,” he said ; “I must select and in
vite the guests, and you must allow me to
place some of my favorite dishes upon the
table.”
“ As you please, love,” she answered de
lightedly, “ but when shall it be ?”
“ Next Wednesday, if you please.”
“ But our furniture and window-drape
ries are very old-fashioned. It is now time
we had new.”
“ I should think it hardly necessary to
refurnish our rooms, Nancy. All our fur
niture is excellent of its kind.”
“ But our smooth carpets, white drape
ries, and cane chairs have such a cold
look, do consent to have the rooms new fit
ted, we can move these things to the unfur
nished chambers.”
“And of what use will they be in those
rooms which we never occupy ? Besides, it
is near spring, and to fit up now for winter
is superfluous.”
“ Well, I would not care,” she persisted,
“only people will call us parsimonious and
ungenteel.”
“ Oh, if that is all,” he said gayly, “ I
will promise to expend a thousand dollars
on the evening ofthe party, not in furniture,
but in a manner which will be far more
grateful to our guests, and profitable to our
selves, and which shall exonerate us from
all imputation of parsimony ; and you may
expend in dress, eatables and desert, just
what sum you please, and do not forget the
wines.’ And so the colloquy ended. He
resumed his studies, and she gave her mind
to the consideration of the dress which
would be most becoming ; and the viands
that were most expensive. The next day
she went busily about her preparations,
wondering all the time how her husband
would expend his thousand dollars, but as
sho had discovered something of the eccen
tricity of his character, she doubted not that
he meant to give an agreeable surprise ;
and her curiosity grew so great, that she
could hardly sleep during the interval.
length the momentous day arrived.
The arrangements were all complete, and
Mrs. N retired to perform the all-im
portant business of arraying her fine person
in sne attire. She lingered long at the toi
let, pelying on the fashionable unpunctual
ityof fashionable people, and when the hour
Bt . ru \ ‘ e *' t her chamber, arrayed, like Ju
dith cAold, gloriously, to allure the eyes of
all look upon her, and full of
sweet srrtiles and graces, notwithstanding
the uncomfortable pinching of her shoes
and corsets. Her husband met her in the
hall.
“ Our guests have all arrived,” he said,
and opened the loor of the re viewing-room.
Wonderful! wonderful! What a strange
assembly. The-e were congregated the
cripple, the maimed and the Mind ; the pal
sied, the extreme aged, and a group of chil
dren from the alms-house, who regarded the
fine lady, some with wide-open mouths, oth
ers with both hands in thoirhair, while some
peeped l v om behind furniture, to the covert
of which they had retreated from her daz
zling presence. She was petrified with as
tonishment, thenja displeasure crossed her
face, till having ran her eyes over the gro
tesque assembly, she met the comically
grave expression of her husband’s counte
nance, when she burst into a violent fit of
laughter, during the paroxysms of which
the bursting of her corset-laees could bo !
distinctly heard by the company.
“ Nancy !” at length said her husband, j
sternly. She suppressed her mirth, stam- j
mered an excuse, and added,
“ You will forgive me, and believe your- I
selves quite welcome.” <
“That is well done,” whispered Mr.
N ; ‘then, my friends,’ he said, ‘as my <
wife is not acquainted with you, I will make i
a few presentations.’ Then leading her to
ward an emaciated creature, whose distor
ted limbs were unable to support his body
he said, ‘This gentleman, Nancy, is the
Reverend Mr. Niles, who in his youth tra
velled and endured much in the cause of
our common Master. A violent rheuma
tism, induced by colds, contracted among
the new settlements of the west, where he
was employed in preaching the Gospel to
the poor, had reduced him to his present
condition. This lady, his wife, has pious
ly sustained him, and by her own labor pro
cured a maintenance for herself and him.—
But she is old and feeble now, as you see.’ j
Then turning to a group with silver locks j
and threadbare coats, he continued, “These |
are soldiers of the revolution. They were j
all sons of rich men. They went out in i
their young strength to defend their oppres- |
sed country. They endured hardships,
toils and sufferings, and such as we hardly
deem it possible for men to endure and live;
they returned home at the close of the war,
maimed in their limbs, and with broken
constitutions, to find their patrimonies des
troved by fire or the chances of war, or their
property otherwise filched and wrested
from them. And these worthy men live in
poverty and neglect in the land for the pros
perity of which they sacrificed their all.—
These venerable ladies are wives of these
patriots, and widows of others who have
gone to their reward. They could tell
tales that would thrill your heart, and make
it better. This is the celebrated and learn
ed Dr. B ■, who saved hundreds of
j lives during the spotted epidemic. But
his great success roused the animosity of
■ his medical brethren, who succeeded in
: ruining his practice, and when blindness
came upon him, he was forgotten by those
! whom lie had delived from death. This
lovely creature is his only child, and she is
motherless. She leads him daily by the
hand, and earns the food she sets before
him Y'et her learning and accomplish
ments are wonderful, and she is the author
of those exquisite poems which appear oc
-1 casionally in the Magazine. These
children were orphaned in infancy by the
Asiatic cholera, and their sad hearts have
seldom been cheered by a smile, or their
palates regaled by delicious food. Now
dry your eyes, love, and lead on to the di
ning-room.’
She obeyed, and notwithstanding her
emotions, the thumping of coarse shoes, and
rattling of sticks, crutches, and wooden
legs behind her, well nigh threw her into
another indecorous laugh.
To divert her attention she glanced over
the table. There stood the dishes for which
her husband had stipulated, in the shape of
two monstrous, homely-looking meatpies,
and two enormous platters of baked meats
and Vegetables, looking like mighty moun
tains among the delicate viands that she
had prepared for the refined company \t hich
she expected. She took her place, and
prepared to do the table honors, but her hus
band, after a short thanksgiving to the
bountiful God, addressed theeompany with
“Now, my brethren, help yourselves and
one another, to whatever you deem prefer
able. I will wait upon the children.”
A hearty and joval meal was made, the
minister setting the example, and as the
hearts of the old soldiers wore warmed with
wine, they became garrulous, and each re
counted some wonderful or thrilling adven
ture ofthe revolutionary war ; and the old
ladies told their tales of privation and suf
fering, and interwove with them the histo
ries of fathers, brothers, or lovers, who died
for libertv.
Mrs. N— —was sobbing convulsively,
when her husband came round, and touch
ed her shoulder, whispered,
‘My love, shall we have dancing?’ That
word, with its ludicrus associations, fairly
threw her into hysterics, and she laughed
and wept at once.
When she became quiescent, Mr. N
thus addressed the company:
‘I fear my friends, that you will think my
wife a frivolous, inconsistent creature, and
I must therefore apologize for her. We
were married only last fall, and have at
tended several gay parties, which our rich
neighborsgave in honor of our nuptials,
and my wife thought it would be genteel to
give a dinner in return. 1 consented on
conditions, one of which was that 1 should
invite the guests. So being a professed
minister of him who was made so lowly in
1 heart I followed to the word of command,
‘But when thou makest a feast fiv the poor,
the maimed, the lame, the bb'nd’ —you all
recollect the passage. Mrs. N , not
knowing who her guests Were, was highly
delighted with the rase I have provided ;
and Ido not believe there has been so no
ble and honorable a company assembled
this winter. My wife desired new furni
ture ; lest we should be deemed parsimoni
ous, 1 pledged myself to expend one thou
sand dollars in a manner more pleasing to
(?urguests, and which should obviate any
such imputation.’
Then addressing the children, he said,
‘Aou will each he removed to-morrow to
excellent places ; and if you continue to be
industrious, and perfectly honest in word
and deed, you will become respectable
members of society. To you, Dr. B ,
under God, I owe my life. I did not know
your locality,neither had I heard of your
misfortunes until a few days since. I can
never repay the debt I owe you, but if you
and your daughters will accept the neat- I
furnished house adjoining mine, I will see
that you never want again. To you, pa
traiot fathers, and these nursing mothers of
our country, I present the one thousand
dollars. It is just one hundred dollars to
each soldier, and soldier’s widow. It is a
mere trifle. No thanks, my friend. You
Mr. Niles, are my father in the Lord. Un
der your preaching I first became convinced i
of sin, and it was your voice that brought i
me the words of salvation. You will re- j
main in my house. I have a room prepared t
for you. and a pious servant to attend you. I
It is time you were at peace, and your ex
cellent lady relieved oi lier heavy burden.”
The crippled preacher fell prostrate on the
carpet, and poured out such thanksgiving
and prayer as found way to the heart ot
Mrs. N , who ultimately became a
meek and pious woman, a fit helpmate for a
devoted gospel minister ; and seemed never j
so hapny as when presiding at Ruch parties, ]
whicli were frequently given by her spe
cial request.
PROGRESS TO LUXURY & RUIN.
The following story so well illustrates
the progress our country is making from the
simplicity of republican times to the extra
vagance which leads to a forfeiture and
loss of national freedom, that we arc dispo
| sod to give it a place. We could write
S nothinj; that would bo more likely to arrest
I . . J
i serious thought on this subject, than this.
A Story for our own Times.
A venerable old Dutchman, after having
occupied all the offices of one of the princi
pal cities of the republic, with great honor,
and having amassed a great fortune in the
most unexceptionable manner, finally form
ed the resolution of going to terminate his
days in tranquility at his country seat. —
But before retiring, he wished to take leave
of his friends and connections, and accord
ingly invited them all to a feast at his
house.
The guests, who expected a most sump
tuous repast,were much surprised on going
into the room to see there a long oaken ta
ble, barely covered with a coarse blue
cloth. On being seated, they were served
on a wooden plate, with salted herring, rye
bread and butter, with some cheese and
curdled milk. Wooden vases, with small
beer, were passod for each of the guests to
serve themselves. This extreme oddity of
the old gentleman caused secret murmur
ings among the company ; but out of res
pect to his age and wealth, instead of shew
ing discontent, they pretended to relish their
frugal fare ; and some of them even com
plimented him for the cordiality of these
good old times which he had thus brought
to rememberanee. The old man—who v.as
not to be duped by this feigned satisfaction;
did not wish to carry the joke further—but
at a signal which he gave, some servants
habituated as country women, entered,
bringing the second service. A white cloth
succeeded the coarse blue one, and pewter
plates replaced the wooden ones. In
stead of rye bread, dried herring & cheese,
they were served with good brown bread,
fresh beef, boiled fish and strong beer. At
this unexpected change, the secret murmur
ceased ; the polite invitation on the part of
the old man became more pressing, and the
guests ate with better appetite. Hardly
had they tasted the second service, when
they saw the butler enter, followed by a
dozen servants in brilliant livery, bringing
the third.
A superb table of mahogany, covered
with a beautiful flowered cloth, replaced
the oaken one. A side board was immedi
ately covered with the richest plate aud
most curious china ; and the guests charm
ed at the profusion of rare and exquisite
meats. The most delicate wines were
freely passed round, while a melodious
concert was heard in an adjoining room.
Toasts were drank, and all were merry.
But the good old man, perceiving that his
presence hindered the guests from giving
themselves up to their full joy rose and ad
dressed them thus:
“ I give you thanks, ladies and gentle
men, for the favor you have granted me.
It is best that I should retire myself, and
leave you to your liberty ; but before the
ball commences, which I have ordered to be
prepared for those who love the dance, per
mit me to acquaint you with the design that
1 proposed to tnyself in inviting you to a re
past that has appeared so odd. I have wish
ed thereby to give you an idea of our re
public. Our ancestors rose to their high
estate, and acquired liberty, riches and
power, by living in the frugal manner
which you saw in the first service. Our
fathers preserved those great blessings only
by living in the simple manner of which the
services have retraced an image. If it is
permitted to an old man who is about to
leave you, to speak freely what he thinks,
I must say, that I fear that the extravagant
profusion which you have remarked in the
last service, and which is the present style
oGiving—will deprive us of more than our
ancestors have acquired by the sweat ofthe
brow, and our fathers have transmitted to us
by their industry and wise calculation.”
INDUSTRY AND PERSEVERANCE.
The following extract from Burnap’s
lectures, is worthy the attention of all young
men:
“When you have sufficient intelligence
to perceive what you ought to be, and
judgement enough to discern what you may
be, the next indespensible qualities to suc
cess are industry and perseverance. La
bor is the universal law, a law in which all
who have their fortunes to make, that is,
all the young enterprisiug ought especially
to rejoice. Labor is the grand magician
which is secretly conveying the good things
of this world from hand to hand, while man
kind look on and wonder now it is done.—
Who now possesses the wealth and high
places of the land? Mainly those who la
bored for them hard and long. From those
who arc too indolent to keep them. It is
incredible what mere industry M ill accom
plish in this world of toil, I had almost said
; it is the prime requisite.
“It is wonderful what deception lurks
under a few common words and phrases in
our language. ‘What a fortunate man!’
we hear the world exclaim, when they see
a man flourishing in his business. In nine
cases out often, the very term is a flatter
ing unction, which the indolent or unenter
prising man is laying to his soul, that the
only difference between him and his suc
cessful neighbor, is that of luck. In a ma
jority of instances he may at venture sub
stitute in the place of fortune, industry.—
He may venture to soy before he examines
the case, that the cause of success was the
same as was observed by Julius Caesar, ‘He
always succeeded, because he left nothing
undone which could secure success.’
“Let not the young mind repine at the
law of labor, and the inevitable and inex
orable necessity of personal exertion, which
it imposes upon him. It is the most favor-
I able thing to those who have their own way
to make in this world, and is among the
favorable circustances by which, they are
surrounded. It is the great agrarian law
which in a manner levels ull distinctions,
and gives the poor man an inheritance in
this world more certain, though not so ex
tensive as the rich, in his own talents, facul
ties, and capacities. By making all wel
fare and acquisition depend on labor, all
mankind are provided for, and all monopo
lies in effect done away.”
INDUSTRY AND ENERGY.
“There arc few difficulties that hold out
| against real attacks ; they fly like the visi
| ble horizon before those who advance.—
l A passionate desire and unwearied will can
perform impossibilities, or what seem to be
such to the cold and the feeble. If we do
but go on, some unseen path will open a
mong the hills. We must not allow our
selves to be discouraged by the apparent
disproportion between the result of single
eflbrts and the magnitude of the obstacle to
be encountered. Nothing good nor great
is to be gained without courage and indus
try ; but courage and industry must have
sunk in despair, and the world must have
remained unornamented and unimproved,
if men had not nicely compared the effect
ofa single stroke with the pyramid to be
raised, or of a single impression of the spade
with the mountain to be levelled. All ex
ertion, too, is in itselfdelightful, and active
i amusements seldom tire us. Helvetius
owns that he could play on an instrument
all day long. The chase, we know has al-
ways been the favorite amusement of kings
and noble. Not only fame and fortune,
but pleasure is to be earned, efforts, it must
not be forgotten, are as indispensable as
desire.—The globe is not circumnavigated
by one wind.—We should never do noth
ing. “It is better to wear out than to rust
■=>ut,’ says Bishop Cumberland.—‘There
wilt be time enough for repose in the grave
said Nicc-le to Pascal. ‘As a young man
you should be mindful of the importance
of early industry, since in your habits are
easily formed, and there is time to recover
from defeats. An Italian sonnet justly, as
well as elegantly, compares procrastina
tion to the folly of a traveller who pursues
a brook till it widens into a river, and is lost
in the sea.—The toils as well as risks of
an active life are commonly overrated, so
much may be done by diligent use of ordi
nary opportunities, but they must not al
ways be waited for. We must not only
strike the iron while it is hot, but strike it
till it is made hot. Ilershel, the great as
tronomer, declares that 90 or 100 hours,
elearenough for observation, cannot be cal
led an unproductive year. The lazy the
dissipated, and the fearful, should patient
ly see the active and the bold pass them in
the course. They must bring down their
pretensions to the level of their talents.—
Those who have not energy to work must
learn to be humble, and should not vainly
hope to unite the incompatible enjoyments
of indulggpce and enterprise, of ambition
and self indulgence.—l trust (fiat my young
friend will never attempt to reconcile
them.”— Sharp’s Letter.
THE WAY TO RISE IN LIFE.
No young man can hope to rise in socie
ty, or act worthily his part in life, without a
fair moral character. The basis of such
character is a virtuous fixed principle ; or
a deep fixed sense of moral obligation, sus
tained and invigorated by the fear and love
of God. ‘l’lte youth who possesses such a
character can he trusted. Integrity, truth,
benevolence, justice, are not with him words
without meaning ; he knows and feels their
sacred import, and aims in the tenor of his
life, to exemplify the virtues they express.
Such a man has a decision of character ;
he thinks and acts for himself, and is not to
be made a tool of to serve the purposes of
party : Such a man has a true worth of
character; and his life is a blessing to him
self, to his family, to society, to the world.
Aim, then, my friends, to attain this cha
racter, and at virtue and moral excellence.
This is the first, the indispensable qualifi
cation of a good citizen. It imparts life,
strength and beauty, not only to individual
character, but to all the institutions and in
terests in society. It is indeed the dew and
rain that nourishes the vine and fig-tree, by
which we are shaded and refreshed.
THE EARLY DEAD.
The aged die and are gathered to their
resting places, like the sheaves of ripened
wheat into the store-houses of the husband
man. They have finished their day.—
The young die, aud they too are buried.
They fall as fallcth the blossom nipped by
the untimely frost. Their day is also en
ded. If in another and a better world there
be distinctions of age as well as the grada
tions of intellectual or moral excellence—
if there one star may differ from another
star in magnitude as much as in glory—it
may be among the means of a wise Provi
dence, that the young are culled in the
midst of their beauty, to form a part of that
perfect whole, where there is no more death
where the light of life goetli not out for
ever.
Boring square auger holes has generally
been considered rather a bad job. Accor
ding to the New York Mechanic, one of our
most readable and useful exchanges, the
job is not quite so difficult as many have
imagined. That papersays a machine has
been invented, the boring part of which con
sists simply of a screw-auger, inclosed in a
hollow square chisel, which being forced
down by a draught of the screw, or worm,
chipped down the four corners very smooth
ly, while the chips were cleared out by the
tivist of the revolving auger. Two or more
of these square holes in contact constitute
a mortise
That ingenious person, the editor of the
Madisonian, gives, in his last but one, with
indescribable seriousness, the following,
evidently without a dream, a gleam, a stray
notion (for idea, wc dare not say, such a j
thing never having made itself conscioc- 1
in his sensorium) of what is really meant.
EXPERIM ENTA L FARMING.
‘Pile follow ing letter, from an overseer to
his employer, a member ofCongress, gives
an amusing picture of “experimental farm
ing,” and will, no doubt, be recognised as
any tiling but fancy’s sketch.
‘Geor., Cos., March 23rd, 1842.
Sir: 1 have the honor to inform you that
things here have gone on pretty much in
the old way since my last. There is noth
ing new, but I regret to say that the sow
you sent from Philadelphia is dead. Twen
ty five oftlie lambs, out of forty, are dead.
One oftlie colts is dead. The two D. calves
which you sent to me are dead. I have
been waiting for tiie rye to come up, that
I might sow the clover seed you sent from
Baltimore, but after all it would’nt grow,
so I ploughed it up and set the ground in
oats, and hope to get a crop if the seasons
turns out fine. We had a freshet two weeks
ago, that carried away one hundred and fif
ty pannels fence, and the hands are all en
gaged in doing up the fence Ben injured
bis knee, in mauling rails, and lias been un
able to work since the 23d February. As
Emilina was tending on the cart, she fell
from the top of it, and in jured her shoulder
so much that she can’t stir. As for the
wheat, there is scarcely any appearance of
it, and the best thing we can do will be to
plough up the land and put it into corn,
but I shall wait your orders. All oilier
matters are going on equally well. Now,
sir, I have given you a fair account of what
we are doing, and must say that I have
done every thing in my power to please
you ; and ifyou don’t like the way I’ve
gone on, you will send me my walking pa
pers as soon as possible, as I don’t like to
be blamed when I conduct right, to the best
of my knowledge.
Yours, respectfully.
Nota Bene.—The fodder is all gone, and
there wont be half enough corn to last us till
the grass grows.—Please not to forget to
send on some money in time.”
“It is unnecessary ta say that the above
account of bis farming operations was high
ly satisfactory to our friend, who \ery good
naturedly, in answering the letter, expres
sed his belief that the overseer had attended
to his business, and, as he seemed to have
obeyed orders in every thing, ho requested
him to remain where he was until fault
should be found with him for neglect of du
ty-
Some of our readers may think that the
above is a fiction, but we assure them that,
as the writers of stories say, the letter is
“founded on fact; ’ and we doubt not, the
experience of many of our friends, who farm
at a distance, will bear witness to the proba
bility of the tale.”— Madisonian.
Now, who will not have seen at a glance
that this is really an Allegory, an apo
logue in the Eastern taste. This admira
ble overseer, managing a plantation with
such rare success and diligence, is clearly
no less a person than ourown “heaven sent”
John Tyler. Every fact fits, every sen
tence squares with this solution.
“Things going on pretty much in the old
way”—just as under Van, only “sorter
worse.” “Nothing new”—except the old
depravities: the old Locofooo concern pret
ty much, only that age hasn't much mended
it. The “sow from Philadelphia,” now
found out to be a bore, is clearly Mr. Bar
ker. The “twenty-five lambs” whom he
expected to have wooled at his ease, are
evidently the Whig Senate whose fleeceing
has proved something like that which the
crow made when he tried to emulate the
eagle. As for the “dead colt,” which piece
of stock is meant Mr. Bradford or Mr. Stew
art, we cannot be positive: but the calves
are Bob and John, beyound all dispute.—
On the whole we’ve never seen a prettier
description of live stock, all dead, like the
President’s. It reminds one, irresistibly,
ofthe pathetic account which, in Peter Pin
dar, the King receives of his sheep:
“Dead!” replied Robertson, “dead! dead! dead”
Then like a drooping lily, hung his head!
As for the “rye, that won’t come up,”
that’s plainly the Loco Foco seed sown last
fall, which didn’t sprout: if it had, the Pre
sident would have been “in clover.” But,
alas! all flesh is grass. The seed from Bal
timore can mean nothing but the unmean
ing John Jones, who “won’t grow,” with
all the Post office dung that’s put upon him;
so that he’ll have to be “ploughed up,” and
a certain Scotch grain, called Davidge, put
in, as a spring crop, if another drought
shouldn’t cut that short too. “The freshet”
is probably one of Mr. Mangum’s or Mr.
Archer’s speeches, which certainly swept
away a pretty long line of the President’s
fences, and has kepi the Guard, the Cabinet
and the “Independent Press” building
brush fences ever since. Who the “Ben”
is, that mauled his own leg instead of a
fence-rail, we can’t say, for want of know
ing Mr. Bradford’s christened name. The
mishap, however, is frequent enough among
the Guard, and is contemporaneous with
the Philadelphia Tyler Washingtonian fes
tival, in escaping from which, sundries
were run over. As for Emilina, that’s
some accident about the Secretary of State’s
office, and will probably bo set right by a
few “certificates.” The wheat that “won’t
come” is, presumably, Fiseality the fi'-st:
and the corn that the birds have almost pul
led up, the latter Exchequer. On the
whole, the great “Experimental farm” is
in what’s called “a blue way,” and we
have every reason to concur with the over
seer and the President, in the very favora
ble view they take of their own doings.—
As for the “walking papers,” oh that the
“heaven-sent” would only make us that
part of the overseer’s olFer! He’d scarcely
have to ask twice.
P. S. to the N. B. “Fodder” is palpably
Treasury notes ; “Corn,” the Revenue ;
“Money,” the Loan bill, which Mr. Wise
is helping along so rapidlv Tndene.ndent.
A tra.. I'.iUure of the Distress now pre
. Bissi nt i l . l -': Minister of
tie. , , n j.,, y;:a } scoral visit last
v/, i hi ‘ •ug everal of his
hem that thay
werekvdeep distress; in consequrmoo of
. , . . ~v ! a letter from
„ .. TV I minster, stating
. . no sos actual
gi‘. v at kiddmminster 1
co|j . tin parents and J
five i !.:ld ■ 1 steady, indus
trious, mot u i c and the mother a
member of a Ch: i: >n enurch. Ihe fol
lowing is a copy oi tb • letter penned by her
and sent to her husband’s b rot hi ’, & which
will show, better than anything that we can
say, the dreadful situation ol themselves
and multitudes of others at thts terrible
crisis:
February 12,1842.
Dear Brother and Sister, —We write
these few lines to you, hoping to find you
in good health, as thank God, we areas well
as can be expected under present circum
stances. We have no disease among us
but the gnawings of hunger, of which none
can give any idea what it is but those who
are the fatal objects of experience. Wo
have no work, nor have had but 10s. worth
since the 11th December. James lias had
but six weeks’work since he was at your
house, and Ann has been at home all the
winter out of work. Mary has some at
present, and that is the only one we have to
bring in anything. She brings in 3s. a
week when she works all the week, but that
is not always the case ; last week she got
but 25., and that is all we have, for we have
no one to give us a bit of anything, nor have
we anything left to make money of, as we
have parted wtth everything we possibly
can, being so short of work so long before
we were out entirely. Our chief diet’ is
potatoes, for bread or other necessaries ws,
cannot get,’nor yet half enough of potatoes,
and I have been the day through without a
crumb of anything within my lips; inshevt
it is impossible for a family to be i” greater
distress than w<> are, and live four broth
er often says, if it were f°i f° r an eternity
he certainly should make away with him
self; and, to add to our trouble, we look
every day to have another added to our fam
ily, without die least preparation whatever,
not even a sufficiency to dress it in. So
dark does the dispensation of Providence
appear towards us at present, that there ap.
pears no way of escape ; but, mind you, wo
do not send to you for relief, as we expect
you have enough to do to provide for your
own family, but we write just to let you
know how we are situated, that, should wo
perish with hunger, or anything else hap
pen to us, someone belonging to us might
know something about us. So no more
from your affectionate brother and sister,
JAMES and ANN .
This is one case out of many, for others
could be cited, did not delicacy of feeling
forbid.- Worcestershire Chronicle.
Compare the above distressing picture of
the state of a people who profess to have so
much sympathy with the American slave
and are annually sending abolition mission
aries among us, with the following descrip
tion oftlie treatment and condition of the
people whose misfortunes they pity so much.
“Better,” as a poor English weaver once
said ‘{better be a slave than a poor weaver,
lie may possibly get whipped on his great
fat back, while we are certain of being tor
tured in heart and stomach.”
From the Christian Advocate.
SLAVERY IN ALABAMA.
The following paragraph is taken from a
communication to the Editor of the Wes
tern Christian Advocate, from the Rev. FI.
W. Shehon, distinguished minister of the
Ohio Conference, now travelling in Alaba
ma as Agent for the Bible Society. It pre
sents the honest impression made on an in
telligent mind, in reference to the social
condition of a clsss of people in Southern
communities, about whom the most extra
vagant falsehoods are repeated from day
to day, by those who ought to know better.
After describing the palmy state of the
church where he has been, Mr. Shehon
says:—“Thus you see, this once persecu
ted and trodden down Methodism is every
where flourishing and looking up. In ad
dition to these, they have also a large
church for the colored people, under the
care of brother Capers, numbering up
wards of seven hundred members, with a
flourishing Sabbath school attached to the
church. To these good people, our breth
ren regularly and faithfully preach. The
large galleries in the white churches are
also expressly for the accommodation of
this portion ofthe community. They can
thus, when they choose, attend either the
white or colored church. Permit me here
in all kindness to say, that some of our good
brethren at the north and west, greatly err
in their representations of the treatment of
the slaves of the South. Now, brother El
liot, I am and have been for weeks in the
south, and I do declare, notto defend slave
ry, but to speak the truth, the slaves in Mo
bile are among the happiest looking beings
I have seen in my whole journey. They
are well fed and well clothed ; and do not
positively labor half as hard, taken as a
body, as many of the laboring people at the
north. I have sail, that they look happy
—yea they art happy ; and could you, or
you: read’ : in sing, shout, and
pray, such ti.’i bo your opinion.—
The true soil'. G generous, kind,
and gralrfn; ; ■ .• 1 ‘ongest possible
attaehwx a mil}’ in which
he has 1. 1. - are benevolent:
frequent • \ has some good
color'd ‘it'd me with
adoiih •h’Y, to send
the Dll Last Sab
bath ■: ■ immense
cong'* . .it-, r • • ; church
the cole. . “i the galle
ries, a 1 S’• • ii.ir the Bible
cause, amoui •;* <h- us and some
ern's. Noble sou is ! Noble collect. on
