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NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE.
D.. COTTING, Editor.
No. 49.—NEW SERIES.]
NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE.
terms:
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ministrators, and Guardians, are required bylaw,
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tised in like manner, forty days.
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groes, must bo published weekly for four months ;
notice that application will be made for Letters of
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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.
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, CLOSES.
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ARRIVES.
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. CLOSES.
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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.
