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About News & planters' gazette. (Washington, Wilkes County [sic], Ga.) 1840-1844 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 4, 1842)
NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE. D.. COTTING, Editor. No. 49.—NEW SERIES.] NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE. terms: Published weekly at Three Dollars per annum if paid at the time of subscribing; or Three DMars and Fifty Cents, if not paid till the expi ration of .six months. No paper to be discontinued, unless at the option of the Editor, without the settlement oi all arrearages. O” Litters, on business, must be post paid, to insure attention. No communication shall be published, unless we arc jnadc acquainted with the name of the author. . TO ADVERTISERS. Advertisements, not exceeding one square, first insertion, Seventy-Jive 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. Advertisement s # not limited when handed in, will be inserted till for bid, and charged accordingly. Sales of Land and Negroes by Exec utors, Ad ministrators, and Guardians, are required bylaw, 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 bo 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. Mail Arrangements. POST OFFICE, > Washington, Ga., January, 1842. ) AUGUSTA MAIL. ARRIVES. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 5, A. M. CLOSES. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at 2J, P. M. MILLEDGE VILLE MAIL. ARRIVES. Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 8, A. 51. , 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. Saturday and Wednesday, at 9, A. M. CLOSES. Saturday and Wednesday, at 9, A. M. ELBERTON MAIL. ARRIVES. CLOSES. Thursday, at 8, P. M. | Thursday, at 8, P. M. LINCOLNTON MAIL. ARRIVES. CLOSES. Friday, at 12, M. j Friday, at 12, M. COTTING & BUTLER, ATTOKNIES, HAVE taken an OFFICE over G. P. Co zart’s Store. January, 1842. 28 Reduction ! TIIE Subscriber respectfully informs the public, that owing to the change in times, he will work at the following reduced prices : Putting in Main-spring, 82 00 “ Hair “ 1 00 “ Verges, 2 50 “ New Chain, 1 50 “ best Lunett Chrystals, 75 “ Flint “ 50 “ Common “ 37 J Cleaning I .ever Watch, 1 50 “ Common “ 75 And all other work in proportion. [LT Work entrusted to his care will he prompt ly and faithfully executed, and as the prices are considerably reduced, he hopes still to receive a share of public patronage. ICT All work warranted, and unless satisfac tion is given, no charge made. R. 11. VICKERS. May 5,1842. 3G i J RGSP,ECTUS OF THE REVIVED. ‘Pick your Whig flints and try your Rifles again.’ THE design of this paper is that of a Penny Weekly Journal, to be published in Augus ta, Ga., in connection with the Chronicle & Sen tinel, at One Dollar and Fifty Cents per annum, based upon the great platform of Republican Principles. PRINCIPLES : 1. One Presidential Term. 2. Restriction of Executive patronage. 3. Limitation of Executive power. 4. The Rights of the States. 5. A sound National and Local Currency. 0. Economy and Retrenchment. 7. Asa means of carrying out these great and important principles, the Reformer revived will advocate the elevation of Henry Clay, of Ken tucky, to the Chief Magistracy of the Union. The Reformer revived, will be as large as its predecessor, the Reformer, published in 1840, devoted exclusively to the great purposes for which it is established, and will be issued the first of September, or earlier if the subscription list will justify. TERMS: 1 Copy one year for 81 50 G • “ 800 12 “ “ 15 00 20 “ “ 20 00 tUT The cash must accompany all orders, or ” the paper will not be forwarded. Depreciated money taken at its value. July 21,1842. 47 For Sate • | r A HOUSE and LOT, well im proved and pleasantly situated in the i Tilly i'ewn of Washington. For further in H™ particulars, apply to ’ STEPHEN G. PETTUS. May 19,1842. 38 iittteceUimcows. A MURDER AND GHOST STORY. The following extraordinary narrative is copied from a late number of the Concord (N. II.) Statesman : One Hodgdon was working in LamiafFas a joiner, and was employed by a Mr. Noyes, with whom he made his home during the time. When his engagement with Noyes was finished, Noyes was indebted to him four hundred dollars for labor, and for mon ey lent him at various times. After this, Hodgdoli went to work for a Mr. Gross, leaving his clothes and part of his tools with Noyes. One evening he left Mr. Gross to go to Mr Noyes’, after which he was not heard of. Some little excitement prevailed at that time on account of his sud den disappearance, but it was generally thought he had absconded. Novo? soon after pretended that he had received u letter from Hodgdon, requesting him to : ell his tools and other things, and remit the pro coeds to a place in New York which he named, as Noyes said ho did. The excitement soon subsided, as Ilodg don had few or no friends in Landalf; and Noyes himselfdied a few years ago, hut on his death-bed intimated that he had a dis closure to makebeforehecoulddie in peace. Mr. Mann, however, whose dying scene we give below, went a day or two before his death, and spent a whole day with him, and after that nothing more was said about divulging anything, and Noyes expired ap parently in the greatest mental agony, and under horrible remorse of conscience, fre quently exclaiming, O God ! forgive that one sin I That one sin is supposed to be the murder of Hodgdon. At last it came Mann’s turn to die, who was supposed to he concerned with Noyes in the violent death of Hodgdon. The par ticulars of his death are given in the fol- ; lowing deposition, which hasexcited a great deal of interest in New Hampshire. We, the undersigned, depose and say, that on Sunday evening, June 19, A. D. 1842, we were called to watch with Mr. Samuel Mann, our neighbor, of North Ben ton. One of us had been with him the Fri day night before, to watch, and had stopped there at the family’s request, Saturday night, and Suislay through the day ; the other, Mr. Whitcher, came to watch about 9 o’clock in the evening, and the family soon retired to rest, and left us with the sick man, in a small room, the bed on the north side, the fire place on the south side, the door way to the kitchen on the east, and door leading into a bed-room on the west end of the room, and a set of drawers on the east side of the room near the foot of the bed, and a window by the foot on the north side. The window was raised from four to six inches—the door in the kitchen was open, and Mr. George W. Mann slept there in the southeast corner of it—the door into the kitchen was open, and Mrs. Peter Howe and Mrs. Mann slept there. It was sup posed lie was dying Friday night, his ex tremities were cold, and yet he lingered on, he seemed much distressed, but not Insane, but on Sunday remained still alive, and ap parently sensible. When all was still, oil Sunday night, and Mr. Whitcher was standing by the foot of the bed, close to the drawers by the open window, and Mr. Norris was sitting south of the bed some four or five paces from the head of the bed, on the west side of the room and the candle was shining, and standing on the mantle over the fire place, when we both distinctly heard a groan—to Mr. Whitcher it seemed on the southest side, and near him and the drawers, and to Mr. Norris it seemed north east and near the drawers. We are both positive it could not come from the sick man, nor the bed whereon he was, nor from another room.— It was a deep, lengthened groan, and start led us both. Mr. Whitcher stepped from the foot of the bed, where lie was standing by the open window, to the fireplace, to get a light, and see what the noise came from, or what caused it. As he took the light and turned round toward the bed, we both saw the room lighted up all at once, with an unearthly crimson colored light. If al most extinguished the light of the candle, so that its light was very feeble, apparent ly almost out—and immediately we both saw a strange looking man standing be tween us and the bed, looking apparently at Mr. Mann—his dress we cannot describe —his whole face wo did not see. Mis clothes were dark, but we cannot give the fashion or make, nor say whether he had on boots or shoes, or hat or not.— We were both transfixed—both stood there side by side, as Norris had risen up. AVhit cher still holding the candle in ins hand and no fire in the fire-place, at least, none that gave any light, and as'the strange man stood before us, and his face toward Mr. Mann, Mr. Mann appeared much excited and agitated, he rolled on the bed, threw his arms about and opened his eyes wide open, and appeared frightened and to gaze upon the apparition, then he tried to cover up his head, then he spoke, and his words were, according to our best recollection, as fol lows: “I am a lost man, and going to Hell, and I can see Hell ! and the Devil is waiting for me. Oh ! I have helped to make way with a man forty-four years ago this sum mer, on Jocky Hill, when I lived in Lan daft'. The man I worked for is now dead, and I assisted him up north-east of the house, where was then a second growth of wood, on a swampy, flattish piece, now cleared up, and buried him. I have thought PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING. WASHINGTON, (WILKES COUNTY, GA.,) AUGUST 4, 1842. of it much since, and was often warned a bout it, but I tried to bear it as well as I could.” He tried to say something more, and we both think that ho used the name of Edwards, but in what connection we can not say. He called no other name, we may be mistaken in this name, but think we are not. He gasped twice, and throwing his arms about, groaned and died. We know we were frightened, and could not speak, ! or did not, nor did stranger, and as soon as i Matin had finished confessing, and was dy ing away, he (the stranger) was gone. llow lie got in or out, we know not, one : door was open, but we did not,see him go I in or out, nor can we believe that he did. j When we first saw him, lie stood at the ■ head ofthe bed, or near it, his face partly turned avvay'from Whitcher toward the bed, i and liis back to Norris. We cannot de scribe his looks, nor can we his dress. We • have above given the truth as it appeared I to us, and (for the sake of the survivors,) as swoothly as wo could—and as near as we can recollect it, and although we were | shocked and some confused, yet we both ro meniber, and fear we always shall too viv idly, the scenes of that night, and when wo speak to each other of it, both agree as a bove. Neither of us had ever heard of a man being missing, as he told us, and we have been up to-day to see the ground he described, and found it as ho told. lie made no confession ol'any other crime that we understood, and we feel friendly to the family, and also to him ; and have no other view in giving this, but to save false reports, 1 and do our solemn duty. HAZEN WHITCHER, DAVID M. NORRIS. Grafton’, ss. July 9, 1842. —Then the | said llazen Whitcher, and David M. Nor ris, the signers of the above affidavit made by them, signed, and is true and is all the truth, according to our best recollection, be fore me. IRA GOODALL, Jus. Peace. Edwards to whom it is supposed he (Mann) referred, and who, many suppose, was accessary to the murder, is now living, and has been partially deranged, at times, ever since, as well as Mann. From the N. O. Crescent City. j THE KENTUCKIAN IN MALTA. A gentleman in this city attached to “Old l Ironsides” during her last cruise, lias per mitted us to dip into his journal, which is as j rich as Calhoun’s gold mine. The follow. ■ ing is peculiarly fine. “We passed three weeks in Malta, wait- j ing for despatches. Various plans were j devised to kill time, and never did it. pass j so pleasantly away. Fishing, rowing, din- j ners, wine suppers, ect., formed our princi- I pie amusement ; and as the harbor was fil- j led with vessels of all nations, an inter- j change of courtesies was kept tip until our | anchor was weighed and ‘Old Ironsides’ a gain before the breeze. “At one of the entertainments given on shore by the officers of a British frigate, the conversation turned upon rifle shooting, which led to an animated discussion, in which our officers took part. ‘I have often heard,’ said the commander of the Thunderer, ‘that you have some fel lows in your country called Kentuckians, who arc reckoned great shots with their ri fle.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Lieut. N ,‘their | fame is great in that line, which is easily accounted for. As soon as they are able to shoulder a rifle, they commence practi sing, and in course of time become excel lent marksmen.’ ‘They may be very clever, but I believe we have better shots on board our vessel.’ ‘1 do not belong to that section ofcountry’ observed Lieut. N , ‘and have had but little practice with the rifle ; but, if l mis take not, we have a Kentuckian in compa ny, who will stand up for his native State.’ ‘Yes, on all occasions,’said our purser, a tall muscular descendant of one of the first settlers of the State. What say you, then, gentlemen, toa shoo ting match to-morrow morning?’ ‘Agreed, with all our hearts,’ said the Yankees. The next morning the party met in a beautiful grove, and placed their target se venty-five yards distant. The English ri fle is different from the American, the bar rel being shorter, and the stock heavier. — Six picked rnen from the Tljunderer were on the ground, all of whom fired. No one, however, ‘cut the paper,’ (the size ofa dol- j lar,) although several of the balls were ■ close to it. The shots wefe considered excellent by | the English and French officers present, and the natives were greatly astonished at the proficiency ofthe riflemen. The comman der of the Thunderer, turning to the purser said, with a smile.’ ‘What do you think of that? I take it, you’ll find it difficult to come up to it.’ ‘You may think so—but I consider it no shooting at all!’ said the Kentuckian. ‘ Vous monter le haut chcvatj said a French officer. ‘Je vans montraif said the Kentuckian. “Fire away,’ said the Englishman. ‘l’ll bet a wine supper for all hands,’ said the Kentuckian, that I make three shots every one of which will be better than any yet made, and each succeeding one better than the first.’ ‘l’ll take it,’ said the Englishman, smil ling. The Kentuckian slowly raised a rifle he brought from home, and fired. The paper was cut! . The second fire was better than the first, and the third ‘bored the centre!’ j Nothing could depict the surprise of all pro. : j sent: the Englishman ‘acknowledged the coin,’ and said lie was satisfied. The Ken i tuckian enjoyed a hearty laugh, declaring [ it was nothing to what lie could do—that : he would bo ashamed of such firing in old Kaintuck. Rolling a quid from one quar j ter ofiiis capacious ‘receiver’ to another, ho continued: ; ‘I must have another shot to show you j what can he done with a rifle, and to con | vinco iny French friend I am not boasting.’ ; The whole party stood silent, in a row, j and the Kentuckian retreated about forty j vnrks, making the distance from the tree to J where he stood, near ono hundred and j twenty yards. Ordering a paper of the I same size as the other to bo put in the same ! place ho re-loaded—drew his broad-brim tried beaver over his eyes, and after taking I deliberate aim, blazed away. ‘That was rather too low,’ he said, ‘the! ball is about the eighth of an inch below the paper!—the next time, I’ll bring it.’ On examination, the ball was found to be precisely where lie said it was, which in creased the astonishment the remarkable shot had produced on all present, with the exception of the Yankees, who were ‘used to it.’ ‘This lick will bring the persimmon, said the Kentuckian, as he raised his piece high up, and gradually lowered it and fired.— The paper fell from the tree, the ball ‘dri ving home’ the nail which supported it ! Language cannot describe the looks of the foreigners, and particularly the natives who crowded around the Kentuckian in num bers. That night the wine flowed free at the ‘Old Admirals,’ and a more joyous par- ! ty never met at Malta.” Front the Knoxville ( Tenn .) Post. UP ON SANDY. A good anecdote is told by a Methodist j circuif rider, who not long since called at i the house of a Mr. , living somewhere j near the head waters of Sandy River, in i Virginia, to stay all night. Every body : knows the character of the citizens of this ! region of country, and that it has been fora ; number of years gone by, and in all proba bility for a number of years to come will continue to bo, on account of its mountain \ fastnesses, the home of a most ignorant and , debased population. Our Parson, a man j of great simplicity of character, on entering, j found four men seated on the floor playing cards. These, who seemed scarcely to note his arrival, he passed by to wh o re. the | wife of the proprietor of the mansion was j sitting, who very soon engaged him in con- j versation, Among other questions usually j propounded, she asked, “ What mout your business in these parts bo, stranger ?” “ I am hunting the lost sheep of the house j of Israel,” replied the Parson. “ Old man ! old man!” cried the woman j to her husband, “ Old man, I say, Pll lay I any thing that that old ram that was here j t’other day belongs to this man.” ‘Fhe Minister was forced to explain, whereupon, gazing at him with an air of j curiosity and astonishment, she rose to her . feet and exclaimed, “A Preacher! well,: you’re the fust critter of that sort, as was ever asackly in these parts aforo, as I’ve j seen—but rnaby you’do like to take a dram, stranger ?” “No, madam, I never drink.” “ Never drink ! well, raly /” The men, during this dialogue, contiim- ! cd their game at cards, but as if suddenly j struck with the impropriety of such’ con duct before a minister of the gospel, (a spe cies of animal of which she had heard, but never before seen,) the woman addressed j the card-players with the air of one accus- j tomed to command, “ Looky here, men, \ aint you ad and nice set to let a preach er come here and catch you a pla’in cards ? j Move it, ev’ry one of you, or I’ll break this pine knot over your cussed pates.” It is hardly necessary to add that the room was speedily cleared. The anecdote above related is literally true, and.affords but a fair sample of the character of the “ settlers on Sandy.” The eccentric Rowland Hill, among the numerous religious notices which.it was his i custom to read every Sabbath after service, ‘ once delivered the following : “ A humble j partaker in Christ desires to know why bro ther Hill finds it necessary to ride to church in a sumptuous carriage, when his divine Master never rode any where, except on an ass ?” Upon which pious inquiry, “ bro ther Hill, shoving up his spectacles on his forehead, and with an air of great humility, thus commented : “ I would say, in answer to my humble brother, that I have a car riage, but no beast such as our Master rode. However, if my worthy brother will pre sent himself at the door of my dwelling on next Lord’s-day, ready saddled and bridled, I will .ride him to church !” “Loafer.” —This popular word is said to have an eastern derivation. Dr. Barnwell, of Oxford College, says, “The Hebrew word Loph signifies “to wander, to idle, to hang about.” A part of the tribe of Dan who were carried away in the Babylonish cap tivity, seperated themselves front their brethren, aud commenced a wandering, gypsy life, and they were called Lophites— (wanderers, ‘vagabonds.’) From the word Loph, Lophite, the transition to our modern word Lopher, or loafer, is very plain and natural. A sensible wife looks for her enjoyment at home —a silly nne abroad. A REVERIE. “I shall not ask Jeau Jaques Rosscau, It birds confabulate or no.”— Gay. I happened one day to call at the house | J of a friend who resides in a pleasant part of! I the city. Every thing in and about the I j dwelling gave signs of wealth and taste.— j j L ‘he drawing room, which was spacious, | there were sofas, ottomans, lamps, mirrors, paintings, books, musical instruments, and ! in short, every thing which an elegant lady j could desire to adorn an elegant room. Fatigued with my walk, and learning ; that the lady was not at homo, I threw my self on one of the soft ottomans, and clos ing my eyes was soon passing in a comfort able drowsiness—the half-sleeping, half waking condition, when one enjoys the full luxury of sleep without its oblivion. In j this state the sense of hearing is most acute. , Presently a low murmuring sound reached my ears ; I listened, and it became articu late. Judge of my surprise when I discov j ered that it proceeded from the beautiful ! furniture I had just been admiring! ‘Dear me,’exclaimed the book-ease, ‘how tired lam of standing ! Let me see—it must he as much as three years since I was posted up here. Winter and summer, night and day, have I been obliged to keep my selfbolt upright; J declare I don’t think I I can stand it much longer.’ ‘You iiad better grumble, Mr. Secretary,’ said the carpet, ‘I wonder how you would like to lie fiat on the floor all your life time, as 1 do—and every body trampling you un der foot too! Here I lie at the mercy of every one, and it’s little mercy I get. 1 suppose you won’t believe it, friend Secre- ! tary, I was young and handsome once ; ; though there’s precious little of my beauty , left. 1 am trampled on from sunrise to sunset, besides getting a regular scratch every morn from Betty’s broom. Yet 1 bear it all in silence, arid no one ever heard me complain before, nor would you now, only I heard my mistress say something ; this morning about putting me intothe nur i sery, and getting another in my place. So | goes the world—old friends for new ! And : I am to go into the nursery ! well, if I get ! amongst my little masters and misses, I | shall soon be Joi nto pieces. I have borne i all sorts of weight in my days, but now for ! the first time 1 feel the weight of misfor j tune.’ ‘Well,’ returned the book-case, with a lofty air, ‘I begin to think it is desirable to I have a standing in society. I have already j been looked up to, at any rate ; and, though | 1 say it who should not say it,’ very few | ! folks have more ‘book learning.’ ; ‘ Who cares for your book-learning?’ cried the centre table. ‘l’ve got hete in i my’ lap all the books mv lady wants to read. ! The London Annual, Boz’s last, Ilulwcr’s I last, Marryat’s la%t, and a sketch book, and j scrap book, and portfolio of drawings, and somebody’s poems, all dressed out like dolls. As for tny master he reads his ledger, and the newspaper. I'll tell you what, Mr Se cretary, though you carry your head so high, you are not thought much of. But you can’t help seeing that my mistress sets 1 o good deal by me and leans upon me very much.’ ‘You had better boast of our lady's iet.d- I ship,’ cried the grate, with a face as red -s i fire; you may depend upon it, 1 . e” i warmest friend sho.has in the world, ami a : j ‘great’ coin fort I’ve been to iter and my j master these long winter evenings. Many's ; I the time, ns you know very well, when if y | have pushed you away, and turned their . backs upon you—drawing up to me in the most affectionate manner. ‘lf you never get a push,’ cried the table,’ j I believe you sometimes get a poke.’ At this home thrust the grate looked ra j ther black. The rug had been lying be j tore the fire very quietly, but hearing a j neighbor attacked, seemed to think it time Ito put in a word. ‘The grate and 1 have been warm friends,’ it said, ‘this many a day r , and I am always sorry for its hard knocks—especially as I generally get a peppering myself, and sometimes a singe- ; ing too.’ ‘La ! child,’ said the hearth brush, ‘you | needn’t fret about the peppering—don’t 1 ! always brush you ofl'as clean as a whistle?’ ‘Oyes, and leave the marks of yoursmut ! tv fingers instead.’ Now the rug was a neat little body, very’ choice of a fine plush dress, and much an noyed at living in m b a dirty neighbor hood. ‘You complain - ... i.-: do you ?’ cri ed the tongs; now just look ‘at my face! why they thrust me ••mart foremost intothe coal-hod every day ‘Never mind,’ said the astral lamp, ‘you was made for a collier !’ ‘And pray, what was you made for mal apert ?’ returned the other. ‘1 am a philosopher,’ replied the lamp, ‘I throw light on every subject that is brought before me. When my master sits down of an evening to read his papers, he never pretends to see into the writer’s mean ing without bring the matter to me. While he is reading, my lady’ is sewing for her family; she will tell you how much I light en her labors.’ ‘lt appears to nte,’ said the footstool, ‘that a little more modesty would be becoming.’ ‘ Modesty !’ cried the lamp in some heat, ‘ who dares to insinuate any thing against my modesty, when I never appear in com pany without a veil, although those who have seen me can testify that it conceals a face which would dazzle every beholder. And now, an insignificant cricket, whose j standing is so inferior to mine whom every t body4ooks down upon and treads beneath R. J. KAPPEL, Printer. their feet, presumes to accuse me ofa wan* of modesty !’ ‘ Peace !’ said a soft rich voice in a dis tant corner of.the room ; it was the harp. ‘Peace ; I pray you why disturb our har mony by these notes of discord ? 1 was dreaming over the sweet song which my la dy drew from me this morning. Its soft airs still breath through my soul. Her touch sent a thrill of delight over my frame and my heart strings still vibrate at the re membrance. Your angry Words grate up on my ear, and make harsh disc rd.’ ‘ V es, and you disturb me too,’squeaked a violin ; ‘I was thinking over Yankee Doodle!’ A large pier glass that had been quietly reflecting on all that passed, now thought proper to assert its.ciaims to distinction.— ‘ My lriends,’ it said, ‘ I perceive that vou have a very good opinion ofvourselvcs, and each seems to think itself of more conse quence than the rest. Now 1 don’t wish to presume too far : but it’s iny candid opin ion that our lady would give you all up sooner than she would me. I really think she is on more intimate terms with me than any body in the world. I am her privy councillor in every thing pertaining to the toilet. She consults me about the set of ev ery dress, the style of her hats and caps, the color of her ribbons, and the arrangement of her hair. She knows that lam always candid, 1 tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’ This rs more than she can say of any other friend. If her cap, or the color of her dress is becoming, I tell her so, and she gives up to my opin ionatonce. She never goes out of the house without consulting me. I receive a great deal of notice too, from the ladies who vis it my mistress; they ever consult me about their dress, and seem to have as much re spect for my opinion as she does. Lately’ my lady seems to like me better than ever. For. night before last, when she returned from a ball, she came to ask me if her dress was in good order. While she was stand ing before me, her husband came along be hind her, and pointing to my face he said, with a smile of tenderness, ‘that was the finest face in the ball-room.’ Delighted with this compliment, 1 exhibited a counte nance all radient with smiles and blushes. Since then my lady never passes this way without casting a look of great complacency on me.’ ‘Proud pet!’ exclaimed the racking chair throwing itself back in huge disdain, ‘was there ever such a prating fool ? But every body*knows you are flat. You have done nothing all the days of your life, but min ister to the vanity of the world ; and now 1 perceive that you are full of the same qual ity yourself. Just consider how much more useful 1 am. When my lady is fa tigued—tired of you and everyone else— site comes to me ; I take her in my arms, and rock her bv lhc hour together. But site springs out of my lap the moment her husband comes in.’ 1 know not how much longer this gascon ade would have continued, but just then the door opened, and the lady’ of the house entered which had the effect to wake me, and put ; very filing else to sleep. S. J. lAL MAGNETJSER POSED. A v, tty friend ofiours tells a capital sto ry ; the failure of a Mesmerise/ on a re nt occasion. His subject was an easy, sleepy-looking, lazy, quiet sort of a body, with a lack-lustre, drowsy looking eye, and the professor, on gaining the man’s as sent lobe operated upon, thought “ he had him sure,” to use a common expression. After pawing and manipulating about the man for some time the professor finally asked him how he felt ? “ Quite tranquil ,” slowly drawled out the individual who was being operated upon, his eyes rolling languidly, and really’ pre senting the most favorable symptoms of the success of the operator. The latter went to work again with re doubled exertions. Ilis success mainly depended upon the result of the present op eration, and this induced him to try his best. After some ten minutes the manipulate!’ again questioned his subject: “ How long do you think it will be be fore you fall asleep ?” “ About a month !” slowly and solemnly answered the man, rolling his eyes up until they were full upon the disappointed Mcs meriser. It is almost unnecessary to add that the latter immediately quit. Pickayune. Melancholhj. —When the last poor Indian shall be left to wander, unbefriended and alone, upon a wild, rocky coast, in search of a solitary being whom he might call bro ther ; when he shall go down into the val ley that contains the bones of his fathers, upheaved by the spade and the ploughshare; when he shall meditate over the new-made grave of his late and only companion, and think how soon he himself must fall to per ish in the dust, like the last leaf of autumn, j from a noble and flourishing tree—won’t he | feel kinder sorter bad about it ? We very much admire the church war den’s wife who went to church for the first time in her life, when, her husband was church-warden ; amt being somewhat late, the congregation wet e getting up from their knees at the time she entered, and she said with a sweetly condescending smile, “Pray, keep your seats, ladies and gentlemen—l think no more of nivseif now than I did be. fore.” [VOLUME XXVII.
