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PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING, HY JAMES VAN NkoS, In the “ Granite Building,” on the corner of Oglethorpe and Randolph Streets. TERMS: Suß'iCßiPTioH—three dollars per annum, payable in advance, three duila; sand a half at the end of six minttts. or lour dollars, (in all cases) where pay ■ u on is not inaJe oafore tne expiration of the year. Nj subscrip ion received for less than twelve months with i it pay nent in advance, and no paper discou 'in.ied, except at the option of the Editor, until ah arrearages are paid. Adveutisi MtMsconspicuously inserted a< me dol lar per o.ij o mdrei words, or less, for the first ti> sertioa an J iifiy cents for every subsequent contm u ince Those sent without a specification ofihe 1 1 ui if iiiiisoru ins will be puolished until ordered oat and charged accordingly. fruiLV Advertisements. —For over 24 and n it nfceeding ii tines, fifty dollars per annum ; fo over 12 an 1 not exceeding 24 lines, thirty-five dol lars ,ier ana in ; lor less than 1 i luies, twenty dol lars per annum. I. V i r<t e in I figure work double the above prices. I.tou Ad veh rise mew rs published at the usua rites, ini with strict attention to the requisitions of the law. Vt.t, Svi.es regulated by law, must be made before the court house dour, between the hours ot 10 in the morning and four in the evening—tho|se of land iri the couilty where it is situate ; those of tiers.inal property, where the letters testamentary, of adimnl istrau m >r of giurdiaasqip were obtained—and are; requite i to be previously advertised in some pubiic gazette, as follows: Si eat vi's’ S \les un ler regulir executions for thir- | tv days ; un ler mortgage a fas sixty days, before j the dav of sale. S tt,v:s of lan 1 and negroes, by Executors, Adminis trators or (J j Indians, for sixty days before the day ot sale. •3ai.es of personal property (except Negroes) forty days. C t r.iTms bv Clerks of the. Courts ol Ordinary, upon anolicahon for letters of administration, must be pub lished fit thirty days. Cirtriovs upon application for dismission, by Exec- j utors, A I nunstrators or Guardians monthly for six • months. Orders of Courts of Ordinary, (accompanied wi;h a copy of til3 bond or agreement) to make titlei to land, must lie published three mouths. N irices by Executors, Adminutraiors or Guardians, of a iplica'ion to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell the lan I or negroes of ari estate, four months. N itices by Executors or Administrators, to the debtors an I creditors of an estate, for six weeks. S ishifts’. Clerks ofConrt &c. will be allowed the usual leduction. (Ts Letters on business, must be jxist paid, to entitle them to attention. <; R AINA N I) CH AF V. From tlie Louisville Journal THE HOMEWARD BOUND. B Y 11. W . ELLSWORTH. I,And hoi ’lis a jovial band. Anil their shouts ring wild and free; 1’ or bursts on then sight the native land Os the homeward hound from sea! I.ike a holt on the pathway bulled, The proud ship iusilt's by Wi h ihe sweep of us snowy sails unfurled, And each streamer wavug high! Land ho! o’er each wave they rise On the distant shore to gain; Huzza 1 for the light of their native skies, And ttieir cuililiiotid’s home again! Huzza! ’ns a cheering sight, O’er its foamy track to see A jiroti.l ship beui. in the strong wind’s might, i’he homeward hound from sea. “ Furl all!” for the headland’s past, Is the joyous mandate heard ; Aud the sails lie curled to he tapering mast Like the whig of a weary bird. “ Kurt all ! ” in its haven found, .See the gallant Vessel rule, With helm untouched, at moorings hound, And its breast to the tippling it e ! Oil! -ay. shall the wanderers meet Each thing they loved of yore ] CSoall tiie forms they dreamed of greet Their eyes on the welcome shore 1 Shall the doatiiig father press The child of many a prayer 1 Shall the lips of iho trembling maiden bless Her st onu-tossed ina. inei ! Home ! no sad change is there, No tauer form hath gone : I’ uni fieiuls of old, their memories bear, Cuirte tiirdnging one by one : 11 nue! to the wanderer home! I is pure liglu round Inin plays, Hti re svv.ft Ins joyous footsteps rotim, ’Mid things of childhood's da.s ! U it oh ! what fleetness hath Each home- spent moment given, 1 o the w ut (ere s o’.-r an oc an piiifl, Beneath life’s charming heaves! Ho V oft sweet strains of old, Neiiiin lied hv memory’s lute, R it breathe of hearts that luted us, cold, Aud ups that bhssed u.-. mute! * l'is past ’. each greeting's o’er, Each fare > ell prayer is said ; And la to seek a stranger slimci You gallant hark hadi sped ! ’ l'is pas! —brignt sties above, i *o i’s ti.essiugs o’er them tie ; T ir f weal, (lire’ w.l, • ill next ill jy rote, I'.ie ho.neward bound from sea! 01) sjKKN IN ALL 111$ YVOUKS. v rat: mil r ik grrUax; In that beautiful part of Germany winch border- oil Iho Home, there is a noble cas le, wnicii, as you travel on the Western banks j Os the river you may see lifting its ancient towers on the opposite side, abov • the grove of trees about as old as itself bout forty years ago, ihere lived in the castle a noble gentleman, whom we call Baron . Tbe I baron had only one son, who was not on v a! comfort to h.s father, bu a blessing to all who lived on It's lather’s land. It Happened on a certain occasion, that this i young man nemg from home, there came a! french gentleman to see the baron. As soon as this gentleman came into the castle, he j began to taik of his Heavenly Father in terms that chilled the old mi l’s blood; on which! the baron reprove him, saying, “are you notj afraid ot oifending God who reigns above, by speaking in such a manner ! ” Tne g utle inan said he knew nothing about God, for he had never seen him. The baron did not notice at this time what the gentleman said, but the next morning took him about bis castle and grounds, and took occasion lirst to show him a very beautiful picture that huog on the wall. The gentleman admired the picture very much, and said, “ whoever drew this picture, knows very well how to use his pencil.” “ My son drew that picture,” said the b*ron. “ Then your son is a very clever man,” replied the gentleman. I’he baron went • ith his visitor into the garden, and showed him many beautiful flow ers and plantations of forest trees. “Who has the ordering of this garden!” asked the gentleman. “ My son,” replied the baron , “ he knows every plant, [ may say, from the cedar of Le banor to the hyssop on the wall.” -Indeed,” said the gentleman, “I shall think very highly of him soon.” The baron then took him into the village, and showed him a small, neat cottage, where his son had established a school, and where he caused all young children who had lost their parents to be received and nourished at his own expense. The children in the house looked so innocent and so happy, that the gen tleman was very much pleased, and when he retu ned to the castle, he said to the baron, “ what a happy man you are to have so good a son.” “ How do you know I have so good a son!” “ Because I have seen his works, and 1 know that he must be good and clever if he has done all that you have showed me.” “ But you have never seen him.” “ No, but I know him very well, because 1 judge of him by his works.” “ True,” replied the baron, and this is the wav I judge of the character of our Heavenly Father. I know from His works that He is a being of infinite wisdom, and power, and goodness.” The Frenchman felt the force of the re proof. and was careful not to offend the good baron any more by his remarks. A captain of a ship said to a sailor who fell overboard that morning, “You have had but an indifferent breakfast. “ Not so bad,” re plied the tar, “ for I have had a good duclt.” THE COLUMBUS TIMES. VOLUME I.] From the Family Companion, for November. ELEMENT Alt Y INS T R UCTI ON. BY PROF. DARBY. “ How DOES WATER EXTINGUISH FIRE?” Weie we culled on tor . ii answer, by one I acquainted with tlie laws ol heat, we should simply reply that the conversion ol a portion ol the water into steam, reduced tlie temper ature of the burning btidy below that neces sary for its corobusiion, and of necessity, the fire wa - extinguished. But this answer would be perfectly unintelligible to a child, since it is supposed to know nothing of the circum slances on which the phenomenon depends; and tlieie is scar e!y a phenomenon of so fre quent occurrence, more < ifficull to explain to the tvro, than the one under consid ration, since it involves principles not easily compre hended and of the most difficult illustration But lei us bring up our little inquirer, and engage in a tele a tete with Iter on lhe sub ject, directing her attention to the several conditions ofihe phenomenon separately, be ing prepared with some simple articles for illustration. Lucy, why does wood burn]” “I do not know, sir, unless it is because it is hoi.” You are perfectly right in your supposition, it bums because it is ho 1 . 1 need not ask you if a cold body will burn, although the e ate such,4)ul they have not fallen under your observation, for I know you would reply at once lhat they will not. But some bodies bum at a much lower temperature than oth ers. For example, iron will burn in a black smith’s fire, but not in a common fire, and (or no other reason than lhat the smith's forge is the hottest, whereas, sulphur and phospho rus bum much sooner than wood. To con vince you more certainly of the truth of this position, here is an iron rod heated very hot at one end, and it is cold at tlie other; now pass this slick of oak wood front the cold to wards ihe hot end, and you see it does not burn until it Comes to the hottest part ; now pass the sulphur in the same way, and it burns before it gets to tlie red part; the phospho rus bums sooner still. We see fiorn these il lustrations, that bodies; according to their na ture, bum at very different temperatures. Now suppose we have the lour difierent bo dies we have named; iron, wood, sulphur and phosphorus all burning. The iron conies fro n the intensely hot fire of the smith's forge, burning splendidly, giving off brilliant sparks; llte wood bums with a quiet flame, the sul phur burns slowly, tlie phosphorous more btilltanily. Now lay them all on the same cold plate of iron} the burning of the iron instantly ceases; the wood soon goes out; the sulphur bums longer, and Ihe phosphorus longer still. Now why do they become ex tinguished in this order ? *• I suppose it is because ihe iron must be so hut to burn, that the cold iron instantly cools it below its burning temperature; but the wood continues to burn longer, because ii burns wbeti it is not as hot as the iron, amt it Pikes longer to cool it to a lower tempera ture, and so ol the sulphur and phosphorus.” You see rom these illustrations, that bo dies burn bv being heated to a certain tem perature, and cease to bum when reduced below lltai temperature. You know dial a piece of wet oak Wood is made to burn with much more difficulty, than a piece of lightwood, and also that it goes out much sooner if removed from other burn ing bodies; for the reason that its burning temperature is the highest, and of course, sooner cools below it. But there is another condition of combus tion, which I presume you have never had occasion m notice, and winch I will illustrate by a lew simple experiments Here ts a ividenioutfied hotfie, and a .small piece of can dle attached to a bent wire, winch passes i through Hie cork, so lhat I can hold die can die ut an upiiglii position within the bottle, ;lnd insert the coik. I now light die taper and place it in tlie bottle, and insert the cork. You see it burns as in the open air; now it burns dimly, and the flame grows smaller and smaller; now it is extinguished. I will care fully remove the cork, ami relight the a per} von see it is instandy extinguished, as I return oto tht- bottle. Can you imagine a solution of these phenomena? *• Tne e musi be something in ltie atmo sphere which supports eonioustion, ami as lli.ai is duiiiiusned, me taper ceases (o hum.” You uie ugiit: one til in pan of lue alinn splieie consists ol llle substance which sup p h is combustion, which is called oxygen, and no sutisiaucc vvdl burn Without its agency. It is on tins piiiictple that we extinguish flame hv smothering II; thus we wrap a woollen hiaiincl around a burning hotly, ami the flame is eximguistied by excluding the oxygen. A man m England has proposed to extinguish he burning ol a house, by having iron shut ters ior me windows and doors, winch should li> air tigm, so that when the bouse was found m t*e on the, tty applying these shutters, they would p tveui tne mgiess of the oxygen, ami Wnen tne combustion had consumed all me oxygen vvitniu, the tiie would go out, for i .e same reason mat iiic taper dal m the close lintde. fins anaugeiiiciii as you will readily imagine, could only be applied to tmuses very ughtiv built, .is those from brick or strum. w e have now il ustraied to Vila Ihe condi tions ot coiubusiiou, namely, a certa n temper aluie according to the natuie of the body and the presence of oxygen Our next step will be to explain the principles oil which (tie ex tinction ol fire by water depends. I have | here, as you see, a couple of watch crystals, and m mis vial some ether. Lay on“ of the I crystals to the palm of your band, until it becomes of the same temperatuie, so that it I leels neither hot or cold. 1 mnv pour into it some ether. How tloes it lee! ? “It is quilt cold.” Does it grow any warmer? “11 does not.” You see the ether constantly diminishes, , and now after ten or fliteen minutes it has i all disappeared. How does the glass now I lee I? “ Since the ether is all gone i> grows vvarm- Le us vary the experiment. Take the glass as btlbre, and i will pour in nioieether, and Wnen it becomes as cold as it will, I will place this other crystal inverted over it. You see they |>erfectlv fit eacli other, and the small quantity of indta rubber varnish round the edge makes it air tight. Does the glass remain cold since I put the other over it? 4 No, sir, it is now as warm as the glass was before you poured iu the ether, although it is half full.” I will now remove the upper glass, and you perceive it becomes cold again, and the ether disappears rapidly. You cannot fail to ob serve that the production of cod is connected in these exjieriuients, with the disappearance of tie ether, and the ether disappeared bv becoming an invisihle vapor, or in other words by evaporati. n. We have shown you, then, most conclusively, that the evaporation of ether produces cold. We might show you, although not perhaps so distinctly, that the evaporation of water produces the sameef ftc‘. You have yourself, no doubt, often fell the effects of cold produced by evaporation. When you nave been playing violently, and perspired freely and then sat down,you have felt colder than you would had you not exer cised at all, and this v.as caused by the eva- COLUMBUS, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 2, 1841. poration of the perspiration produced bv the exe cise. People have long known this effect of evaporation, and have made practical ap plication ot the iaw, although perhaps ignor aitily. We are told that the ancient Egvp bans required their servants to keep their wine bottles in vessels surrounded bv wet cloths, so that the evaporation from the cloths should keep the wine cool; and also lhat in equatorial regions, Ihe people hang wet cloths in their sleeping rooms to keep them cool; the cold being produced by the evaporation of die water. I think vve are now prepared to give an answer that you will understand, to our ques tion, “Why does water extinguish site?” The continuance o’ flame, as we have seen, depends on two circumstances: n certain tem perature and the presence o| oxygen gas. Now, when water is thrown on fire it destroys both these conditions. By its rapid evapora tion it reduces tlie temperature below the burning point, and by iis presence on the burning body excludes oxygen: so that from these two conspiring causes, it extinguishes it—tlie evaporation no doubt in most cases produces most of the effect.” “But Mr. , why will not ether, alcohol and tlie oils you call volatile, which evaporate so rapidly, extinguish burning bodies?’* They would do it most promptly, were thev not combustible themselves, and therefore take fire instead of extinguishing it. The destruc tion ol flame, by reducing the temperature, was applied by Sir Humphrey Davy in the construction ot his safely lamp, which pto tects the lives of thousands in their daily toil in the coal mines of England. From the above example, one may learn what our ideas are in reference to vvliat shou.d demand a part of the attention of children. We have by no means lbllowed out the im portant ami interesting applications of the principles illustrated. The principle of eva poration, for ex ample, brought into our ex planation, would of itsell afford material for a week’s instruction: its necessary operation in the production of rain and dew; the dry ing ot our clothes; its influence in modera ting and governing animal temperature, would ahold topics ol intense interest to any child over six years old, and to many even younger. Children are quick to each indications of de sign, and how strikingly is design manifested in respiration and perspiration, for controlling animal heat! V\ lien we are healed either by exercise or bv a hot atmosphere, we breathe? faster, thus increasing the evaporation or cool ing process in the lungs, and perspiration starts I rom tlie surface, thus producing the same effect over the body. How beautiful the arrangement for making every thing har monize, and every circumstance administer to our safety and happiness! Let such contem plations form a part of the everyday duties of our children, (and not a circumstance con nected iviiti our existence or happiness that will not afford them,) and we shall realize in our children the full accomplishment ol the poetic strain of being “ Led nature up tt> Nature’s God. LABOR. ‘I he world dishonors its workmen, stones its prophets, crucifies iis Savior, but bows down iis neck before wealth however won, and shouts till the welkin rings again ‘‘long live violence and fraud.” The world tins always been partial to its oppressors. Many men fancy themselves an ornament to the world whose presence in it is a disgrace aiid burden to the ground ttiey stand on. The man who does nothing for die race,but siisai bis ease and Ihre.s dainii.y, because wealth has fallen him his bands, is a burthen to the world. He may be a polished gentleman, a scholar, the master of elegant accomplishments, but so long as he takes no pains lo work for man, with his head or (muds, what claims has he to respect or sub sistence ? The rough-handed woman, who, with a salt fish and a basket of vegetables, provides substantial food for a dogen wink iugmen, and washes their apparel, and makes them comtoitable and happy, is a blessing to die land, though she has no education; while this lop, with his culture and wealth, is a curse. She does her duly a ; far as she knmvs it, and so deserves die thanks of man. But every ovsier or berry that a fop has eaten lias per formed its duly better than he. ‘li was made to support human nature, and u lias done so,’ wtnie tie is hut a consumer of food and cloth ing That public opinion tolerates such men, is no small mai Vel. The productive classes of the World are those who bless it by their work or their thought. He who invents a machine does no less service than tie who toils all day with ins bauds. Thus the inventors of the plough, lire loom, the ship, Were deservedly placed among those whom society has to honor.— But they also who leach men moral truth, who give them dominion over the world, in siruci them to think, live together in peace, to love one another, and pass good lives en- Iguiened by wisdom, and charmed by good ness; they who build up a loftier population,- making mm more manly, are the greaiest benefactors ot the world. They speak to the deepest wants ol’lhe soul, and give men the water of life. They are loaded with con tumely m their life, and come to a violent end. But their influence passes like morning from land lo land, and village and city grow glad In their light. Trial is a poor econemy, common as it is, Which overlooks those men. Nmv the remedy for tiie hard service that is laid upon the human race, consists in les sening the number of unproductive classes, and increasing the workeis and thinkers, as well as giving up the work of ostentation, and tolly and -in. It has been asserted on high authority, that if all men and women ca pable ol work would toil diligently but two; hums out ol the twenty four, the work of the world would be done, and all would be as | comfortably fed and clothed, as well educated and housed and provided for in general, as ; they noware, even admitting they ail went to ! sleep the other twenty two hours of the day ! and night. If this were done we should hear nothing of the sickness of sedentary and rich men. Exercise for the sake of health would j be heard no more. One class would not he crushed by hard woik, nor another oppressed bv indolence, and condemned, in order to re-! sist the just vengeance nature takes on them, to consume nauseous drugs, and resort to ar tificial and hateful methods to preserve a life that is not worth the keeping, because it is worthless and ignominious. Now men may work at least three or four limes this neces sary amount each day, and vet find the r la bor a pastime, a dignity a. and blessing, and find likewise abundant time for study; for social intercourse, and recreation. Then if a man’s calling were to think and write, he would not injure the world by even excessive devotion to his favorite pursuit, for the general burthen would still be light.—Dbal. Mysterious Profession. —“ Now, Tom,” said the printer of a newspaper, in giving di rections to his apprentice, “put the Foreign Leaders into galleys, and lock ’em up, let Na poleon’s Remains have a larger head, distrib ute the Army in the East, take up a line and finish the British Minister, make the Young Princess to run on with the Dutchess of Kent, move the Korry Hunt out of the chase, get your stick and conclude the Horrid Jlurdcr “the union of tiie states, and the sovereignty of the states.” lhat Joe began last night—wash your hands and come in to dinner, and theu see that all the pi is cleared up.” From the Family Companion, for November. AUSTRIA.— By John Neal. Austria is a riddle and Prince Metternich a genius—that is to say, an Austrian genius. Dungeons and bayonets, darkness and letters are Ins instruments of persuasion with the Italians and Galicaus, or Austrian Poles: rib bons arid stars and countslnps, pov.er and place are added, when tie lias lo do witli tire Hungarians: theaters, music and shows, when he palters with the Bohemians and the Aus trians—tlie whole being somewhat aided, per haps, iu their persuasiveness, by twelve thou sand pieces of mounted cannon, with matches lighted—four hundred thousand armed mer cenarie3, and a great multitude, such as no man may number, ot’ princes and princesses, counts and countesses, barons and baronesses, of knights and captains, of high-well burns and low bo.ns; of opera girls, ballet dancers, pimps and paupers; of waiters, postillions, am bassadors and chambermaids; cardinals and corporals; merchants, lawyers and thieves; idlers and loungers; and gypsies and nurses, ali employed and all paid, accoiding lo their several positions in society, as the secret agents—not spies —of Prince Metternich wheieby the guardianship of his most Apos tolic Imperial and Royal Majesty, tlie Empe ror, is made easy, the Empire itself secured against surprise, and the reputation of Prince Metiernich, as the cleverest of managers and the wiliest of statesmen, is extended over the whole earth. Now and then, to he sure, as if to show that where one half the people are employed to watch the other, combinations are possible and the discontented more to be feared than elsewhere, a Cofolonieri or a Poro steps forth for a moment —and blows a trump lor the gathering —and shakes the whole southern part ofihe empire lo its detpest loutida lions; while the YVesselinges and the Jokos, or the Bulierwelters create a prodigious uproar in Hie eastern provinces. Put vvliat of that? Who cares ? The career duro of the Spil berg and the moats and wills of Mohacz and Szigrv are always at hand, to crush tire bod ies, if they may not quench the spirits of such boid visionaries; or better still, ihere is Amer ica—there are the United States, to which they may be shipped by ihe cargo, with a certainty that they will be starved, or swin dled. or shamed out of I lieu democratic pre possessions belore a twelvemonth is over. This great genius, Metiernich, is always in communication with a great many little geniuses, who are scattered over the whole face of the globe. Not in lie United States! poh, poll! dont flatter y curse if, my friend. Your country is full of them. And why ? Because in your country they have nothing to fear, and may be had cheap. Take my word for it, sir, they are at home in (he Uni ted States, being neither watched nor sus pected among a people who have nothing to tear. Well Pilathv, Prince Metternicli’s private and confidential secretary, burdened though he is vvidi the private affairs of the prince, finds time, nevertheless, for regulating public opinion, both at home and abroad ; be ing editor of ihe Imperial and Royal Austrian Observer, and consequently supreme dictator in the world of letters, of science, and ol pol itics, for all his majesty’s loving subjects, and autocrat of the press for all the tinders!.rapers of ihe press throughout Germany and Italy. His chief*auxiliaries are the Gazette lie France and the Qnotidienne, while the London Times, the Morning Post, ihe Quarterly Re view, ami scores of the smaller fry, headed by the Trollopes, and Fiddlers, the Martine aus. and the Marryatls ol noth sexes, who go about the world seeking whom they may misunderstand or misrepresent bv the job—it matters little which—constitute the main bo dy of his Anglo Saxon allies, With them, Austria is the very beau ideal of security and comfort and permanence—ol established em p re—the government being paternal Ihe mo narchy, Irom its very nature, imperishable— and ihe millions that acknowledge his power, altogether too happy to be trusted with arms in their bands. To be sure they never think of explaining how it happened, but the other dav, as it were, that this prodigious pile—the consolidated labor of centuries--this anchor sure and steadfast for troubled Europe—this great city of refuge—this hope ofihe nations —ibis imperishable monarchy—was well nigh tumbled into ‘.he dust by a little bit of a Cor sican usurper; how it. happens, that up to ibis hour it has periodical returns of quaking and quaiiing, that are enough lo frighten ihe whole neighborhood of “ Princedoms, Domi nation?, Thrones.” And why? “ Je rains tout Abner, et n’ai pas d’autre crainte.” The simple truth is, and all who know the truth and are bold enough to acknowledge it, will bear me out —the simple truth is, that Austria, with all her strength, is weak enough to be frightened at her own shadow. And why not, since her shadow most resembles herself? When a whole people are under ecliose, they are apt enough to grow weary of the privilege. To pray for light first, and then to demand it, and then, in the hurry and bustle lhat are sure to follow, to mistake the substance for the shadow, as the French did, and then what becomes of these imperishable monarchies?—these everlasting empires?— D own go they! down to the very dust! ia thunder and in earthquake, like the walls of Jericho at the blowing of the ram’s horns. Woman. —We find in Judge Kent’s sen tence of Peter Kane, for the stabbing and killing a woman, the following remarks: “Prisoner, your life is safe, but in sending you to the State Prison, the court will mark their sense of your dreadful conduct; and if not punished to the full extent the law allows, it is by reason of the good character you had previously sustained. To your wife, also, you are indebted for a mitigation of your punish ment. Her conduct ou that occasion, has ex cited the admiration of the court —she seems to have been to you as a guardian angel pur suing you, whose conduct was more like that of a beast of prey than a human being, and striving by every means in her power, to save you from sin and guilt. “There are very few evils to which a man is subjected, that he might not avoid, if he should confer more with his wife and follow her advice. Few gratifications are meted out to him, which he does no‘ owe in part to wo man ; no pleasure, perhaps, which she does not htghten by her participation.” The Morning Air. —There is something in the morning air that, while it defies the penetration of our shallow philosophv, adds brightness to the blood, freshness to life, and vigor to the whole irame—the freshness of the bps is one of the su est marks erf health. It we would he well therefore—if we would have our health dancing gladly, like the Aprii breeze, and our blood flowing like an April brook—we must up with the lark, “the merry lark.” as Shakspeare calls it, which is, “tiie ploughman’s clock,” to warn him of the dawn—up and breakfast on the morning air, and with the sun “walk o’er the dew on yon eastern hills.” I’ll be blessed if I do—as the girl said when her lovqr cslajd hqr to be married. From the Philadelphia Enquirer. BRITISH POWER IN INDIA. Mr. Laster, in his recently published work, entitled “The Glory and Shame of England” —devotes a chapter lo the origin, growtli ar.d abuse of British power, in the possessions o! the East India Company. He stales that 240 years ago, Elizabeth granted to a company of English merchants, an exclusive right to the commerce of India for 15 years. That the privileges of this company have been suc cessively renewed, until liny now form an empire of 1,500,000 square miles, embracing 150,000,000 of subjects. The native army of the company comprises about 230,000 in fantry, and 26,000 cavalry; while about 8000 troops are levied in Europe, aided by 20,000 of the Queen’s regular army. Mr. Laster affirms that the entire population of this vast empire are subjected to the most degrading servitude. Millions of them, it is estimated, are held in the most crual bondage, while a vastly greater number are, iu different forms, reduced to the condition of abject vassalage —bringing with it in innumerable instances, a deeper degradation than any produced by West Indian or American Slavery. He af firths tha t in consequence ofihe system prac ticed millions of the people of India have been starved to death. Dr. Bowring is quoted as having said at a public meeting in London, that while India possessed boundless tracts of land with every shade of climate fit for the best productions of the earth—that men were perishing bv thousands and hundreds of thou sands from famine, while the storehouses of the East India Company were filled with bread wrung from their soil by a standing army. He savs that in 1837, famine in India swept 0ff500,000 people; and that it was brought on chiefly by robbing the population of the produce ot their soil, to till the coffers of the East India Company. Lis added, that multitudes starve to death every year in In dia, because of the terribly oppressive land tax—and that during the famines, uncounted multitudes sell themselves and tl eir children into slavery, for bread to prevent their dying by starvation. The Duke of Wellington is quoted as having said, that he knew that in tlie hutofevery Mussulman soldier in the In dian army, is a female slave who accompanies him in all his marches. Tnis is a strong pic! ture, and although doubtless highly colored, it may well be placed among the list of evils which go to make up the “Shame of Eng land.” Froirt the Family Companion, for November. MANIA.—A Fragment. “I was once much start led by the assertion, that madness is far more common than we imagine, and that to this source, might be traced many of those actions which often as tonish us. 1 believe the remark is a very just on. j . “ I think I have heard you advance the idea that it is to insanity the most villainous actions are to be attributed, as well as the most strange. Is not that your gentle code of eth ics?” asked a young gentleman. “I think so,” she replied, “at least, of all actions which have nothing to excuse them; perfect wickedness is no more, I imagine,’ to he found upon this middle earth, than perleci goodness. But all this is foreign to my sub ject. Whatever has been thought of him since, my uncle was certainly never accused of madness in his devotion. And so he lived, idolizing this child, scarcely suffering the “ winds to visit her roughly,” until stie was five years old. Had she been destined for a long life, all this 1 suppose would have spoiled her: but she was one of those lovely ones “ who die young.” blre seems to have Met, with a clinging tenderness, all the love which was lavished upon tier, and tier mind expand ed with a fatally prophetic precocity. But when tlie child was five years old, she died suddenly. Those who were acquainted with the lather’s tenderness for his little Lily, thought the shock would have killed or crazed him. To the surprise of every one, he l>e canre perfectly calm from that fatal hour. No passionate burst of grid!—no abandonment lo sorrow, were produced by his afff cdon— he even undertook the task of comforting his wife. ‘ Elizabeth,’ said he, a few weeks afier the banal, ‘you are saaly in wanto! a change of scene and air, go and spend a tew days wiili your sister, who has lately lost her hus band, you will find her a sympathizing friend.’ “My hum went, but very reluctantly, for that unnatural calmness seemed terrible to her. “lii consequence of her sister’s absence, she returned immediately, and reached home about dusk, on the evening of the third day alter her departure. Site lias often described to me the agonizing sensation of dread and terror, which look possession of her mind as site approached the house. No light step bounded to meet her, no kind voice greeted her, as she stepped wearily up the old stone steps, and into the great hall. *• * Where is your master ?’she asked, when at length old Randolph, then a boy, made his appearance. “He inconsiderately directed her to the parlor. She entered this very room. Extend ed on the sofa, which used to stand in yonder recess, supported in a half sitting posture by his right arm, she saw her husband, with a face of ghastly paleness, gazing on an object which seemed to unstring her every nerve. A little coffin, half opened, was supported on lour chairs by his side. L ght while drapery was thrown over the grave clothes, and the beautiful ringlets of her child fell unbound over the marble brow and neck. The face was very little altered since the mother had last gazed upon it, yet the sudden and horri ble nature of the unexpected apparition was too much for her, and she fell fainting upon the floor. ‘ New horrors awaited her return to con sciousness. Mr. E-lmley positively refused to leave his place on the sofa, or to allow the coffin to be removed. His child, he said, had appea-ed to him, lelling him she had been buried too soon, as be would perceive by ta king up tle coffin, and she added ‘then yon will come to your little daughter, dear father.’ He had consequently caused Iter to be disin terred, hut no change of position was percept ible. This, however, did not shake his belief in the latter part of his dream or vision which ever it might be. He was firmly persuaded that be was destined to accompany his belov ed child on her return to the grave,and made Dreparaiions accordingly. While these mel ancholy arrangements were going on fie sent tor a painter, in order to bequeath to the world a picture of his fair child. •‘This is the picture which has always ex cited your curiirsity, Peyton. My aunt cov ered it in that way, for neither she nor any one else, could ever bear to look at it. The color which the painter has thrown into the cheeks, and the beautilul hair copied with ex quisite accuracy, contrast horribly with the ghastly expression of the eyes, and the death like hue of the skin. He caused a large and wide coffin to be constructed l it was placed in the center of this room. lie laid h;m s elf in it, with his child’s head resting on ids shoul der, and one lithe arm laid over him. The medical man could do nothing with him; bis pulse grew fainter and fainter; he seemed to fall ioto a quiet sleep, and in a lew hours he was dean. “The blood runs cold when we 1 rc " :< r£ [NUMBER 43. COLONEL TRUMBULL. The following extract from the forthcom ing Autobiography of the distinguished gen tie man who has hone so much to illustrate by his pencil our national history, and especially the pride of our Revolutionary struggle, will be read with deep interest : About the year 17? G a circumstance occur red, which deserves to be written on an ada mant. In the wars of Nww England with the aborigines, tbe Mohegan tube of Indians early became friends of the English. Their favorite ground was on the banks of the river (now tlte Thame?,) between New London and Norwich* A srhall remnant of liie Mohegftns still exist, and they are sacredly protected in the possession and enjoyment of their favor ite domain on the banks of the Thames. The government of ibis tribe bad become heredit ary in the family of the celebrated Chiel'Uncas. During the time of my father’s mercantile prosperity he had employed several Indians of this tribe in bunting animals, whose skins were valuable fir their fur. Among these was one named Zaoharv, of the royal race, an excellent hunter as ever lived. When lie had somewhat passed the age of fifty, several members of the royal family,- who stood be tween Zacbarv and the throne of bis tribe died, and he found himselt with only one left between him and the empire. In this mo ment his belter genius resumed its sway and lie reflected seriously. “How can such a drunken wretch as I am aspire lo be the chief of this honorable rare? Can 1 succeed to the great Unoas ? I will drink no more.” He solemnly resolved never again to taste any drink but water, and he kept his resolu tion. I had heard this storv, and did not entirely believe it; young as I was, 1 had already par taken in the prevailing contempt lor the In dians. In the beginning of May the annual election of principal officers of the (then) colony was held ai H.irilbrd, tbe capital. My father aitended officially* and it was customary for the chief of the Mohegans also to attend. Zachary hud succeeded to the rule of his tribe. My lather’s bouse was sit uated midway on the road between Mohegan and Hartford, and the old chief was in the habit of coming a lew days before the elee lion, and dining with his brother Go/emor. One day tbe mischievous thought s'.ruck me, to try the sincerity of the old man’s temper* ance. The family were seated at dinner,and there was excellent home-brewed beer on the table. I addressed ilieold chief—“ Zachary, this beer is excellent ’ will you lasle ii The old man dropped Ins knife and link, leaned forward with stern intensity of expres sion; his biack eye sparking with indigna tion was fixed on me. “John,” said he, “you do not know vvliat you are doing. You are serving the devil, boy! I tell you that lam an Indian! I tell you I am, and that, if I should but taste your beer, I could not slop until I got to rum, and become again the and. unken, contemptible wretch, your lather re members me to have been. John, while you live, never tempt any man to break a good resolution.” Socrates never uttered a more valuable precept. Demosthenes could not have given it in more solemn tones of elo quence. I was thunderstruck. My parents were deeply affected ; they looked at each other, at me, and at the venerable old Indian, with deep feelings of awe and respect. They afterwards frequently reminded me of the scene, and charged me never to forget it.— Zachary lived to pass the age of eighty, and sacredly kept his resolution. He lies buried in the royal burial p'ace of hi- tribe, near the beautiful falls of the Yantic, the western branch of the Thames, in Norwich, on land now owned by my friend, Calvin Goddard, Esq. I visited tbe grave of tbe old chief lately, and repeated to myself Iris inestimable lesson. EXPEDITION OK DOUGLAS TO THE HOLY LAND WITH THE HEART OF BRUCE. As soon as the season of the year permit ted, Douglas, having the heart of Ins beloved master under !>is charge, stl sail from Scot land, accompanied by a splendid retinue, anch ored off - Sluys to Flanders, at this time the great seaport of the Netherlands. His object was to find out companions with whom he might travel to Jerusalem; but lie declined landing; and for twelve days received all visitors on board his ship with a state almost kingly. He bad with him seven noble Scot tish knights, and was served at tahle by twenty-eight squires of the first families in the country. “He kept court,” says Frois sart, “ in a royal maimer, with the sound of trumpets and cymbals; all the vessels for! his table were gold and silver; and whatever persons of good estate went to pay their re spects to him were entertained with the rich est kind of spice bread. At Sluys he heard that Alonzo, the King of Leon and Castile, wa carrying on war with Oiyn, the Moorish Gov ernor ot Grenada. The religious mission which he had embraced, and the Vows he had taken before leaving Scotland, induced Douglas to consider Alonzo’s cause as a holy warfare; and before proceeding to Jerusalem, he first determined to visit Spain, affd to sig nalize his prowess against the Saracens. Rut his first field against the infidels proved fatal to him, who, in the long English war had seen Seventy battles. The circumstances of his death were stri'- king and characteristic. In an action near; Theba, on the borders of Andalusia, the: Moorisli cavalry were defeated, and after I their camp had been taken, Douglas with his companions engaged too eagerly in their pur suit, and being separated from tlie main body of the Spanish army, a strong division’ of ibe 1 Moors tallied and surrounded them. The Scottish knight endeavored to cut his wav through the infidels; and in ak probability would have succeeded had he not turned to rescue V\ in. St. Clair of Roslin, whom he saw in jeopardy. In attempting this, he was inextricably involved with the enemy. Ta king from his neck the casket which contained the heart of Bruce, he cast it before him, and exclaimed with a loud voice, “ Now pass on ward as thou wert wont, and Douglas will full iw thee or die.” ‘I be action and the sen timent were heroic ; for Douglas fed over powered by his enemies; and three of his knights, and many of his companions were slain along with their master. On the suc ceeding day the body and the casket were both found on the fiel I, and by his surviving friends conveyed to Scotland. The bear* of Bruce was deposited at Melrose, arid the body of tlie “* Good Sir James,” the name by wh eh he is affectionately remembered by bis coun trymen, was consigned to the cemetery of Ins fathers in the parish church of Douglas. Modesty. —The extreme modesty attribu ted to females of the present day, appears to have been productive of some benefit to mar ried men. We heard yesterday of a husband j who has thereby become ‘master of his house’ again -a matter he has been unable to ac complish for several years past. On a slight squabble in the morning, as to who should “wear the pant.*,” the wife sot the best <.f it, and had put them on, when the “gude mon” suggested that the buttons had eyes, hie wife’s modesty was so shocked that sue burst into tears, and pulled the pants “right ofiT’— Cres cent Citv. r KOSCIUSKO AND H7S I.ADY LOVE. The maiden to whom this Polish hero gat • his heart, was daughter to one of the grand and gnitaries of the kingdom, and tl erelore rais ed by birth, above Kosciusko. But true love is a leveler—its alchemy detects merit in the meanest station, and its power of affinity can overcome material obstacles. The Lady Luu sa Sosnowski returned the love of the poor officer as the truth and fervency of his attach ment deserved—but a life of happiness was not for him. How different would have been his history had the grand wish of his heart been achieved! But the disappointment of his hopes in love, consecrated his whole soul to freedom and the happiness of man. The young Jady first confided her attach ment to her mother; then Kosciusko, with tears, and kneeling at the father’s feet, con fessed his pure but unconquerable passion. The parents, blinded by hereditary pride of ancestry, and exasperated at the idea that the splendor of their ancient bouse should be dimmed by their daughter’s union with an of ficer of rank so inferior, prohibited all inter course between the impassioned lovers, and, to insure the’ observance of their prohibition, placed spies upon all their steps. But love found means to deceive the Argus eyes plat ed over them, and knit two young hearts closer and closer to each other. Kosciusko, now driven to despair, proposes an elopement. The lady agrees—all is ar ranged, and the result promises t<> crown their hopes. Under the shade of a dark night they’ efiect their meditated escape from the castle, attain, seemingly unpursued, to some distance, and a warm embrace speaks their mutual con gratulations upon the bright hopes of union that are dawning upon their hearts. A sud den noise starts the lovers from their dreams of bliss; the marshal’s people surround and attempt to seize them ; Kosciusko draws his sword and desperately strives to defend his beloved. A sanguinary conflict ensues, but the issue could not be doubtful. Kosciusko, wounded, senseless, sank to the ground, and the Lady Louisa was dragged back to iier pa ternal home. When, after three hours swoon, Kosciusko ’ regained his consciousness, he crawled, feebly and despairingly, to the nearest vilage, where one of his friends was quartered, carrying with him no relic of his vision of happiness, but its recollection# and a white handkerchief, which his idol had dropped in her agony. This treasure never afterwards quitted Ins bosom, not even in the iiottest battle, and deatii only could part lnm from it. ****** Kosciusko formed no second attachment; and although, in alter years, several advanta geous matches were proposed him, both in Poland and in France, he never could be pre vailed upon to marry. Even to an advanced age he remained faithful to the love of his youth, and spoke of the object of his only pas sion with all the fire of early life. MANAGING A HUSBAND. This is a branch of female education too much neglected : it ought to be taught with “ French, Italian, and the use of the Globes.” To be sure, as Airs. Glass most sensibly ob serves, “first catch your hare, ’ and you must also first catch your husband. But we will suppose him caught—and therefore to be roasted, boiled, stewed, or jugged. All these methods of cooking have their matrimonial prototypes. The roasted husband is done to death by the firery temper, the boiled husband dissolved in the warm water of conjugal tears, the stewed husband becomes ductile by the application of worry, and the jugged husband is fairly subdued by sauce and spice. When Sir William L was se ting off on his wedding excursion while the bride was subsiding from the pellucid lightness of white satin and blonde, into the delicate dark ness of the biack silk traveling dress, the lady’s maid rushed into Ins presence with a torrent not ol tears, but of words. His favorite French valet had put out all the band boxes that bad been previously stoied with all femi nine ingenuity, in the carriage. Os course, onthe happiest day of his life,- Sir William could not “hint a fault or hesitate dislike,” and lie therefore ordered the interesting exiles to be replaced. “ Per veil, Sare William,” said the prophetic gentleman’s gentleman, “ you let yourself be band-boxed now, you be band boxed all your life.” The prediction of the masculine Cassandra of the ctirliu- irons was amply fulfilled. Poor Sir William ! One of his guests, a gentle man whose wits might have belonged to a Leeds clother, for they were always wool gathering, confounded the bridal with one of these annual festivals u'hen people cruelly give you joy of having made one step more to your grave—-this said guest, at his wedding, literally wished him many happy returns of the day! The polite admitter of the band boxes, found, however, one annivcisary quite sufficient without any returns. Now, we do consider it somewhat hard “to drag at each remove” such a very percepible chain ; it might as well have been wreathed, or gilded, or even pinchpecked. A friend of mine, Mrs. Francis Caldwell, does the thing much better. We shall give a domestic dia logue in Cuizon street, by way of example to the rising generation. “I have been at. Baldoc’s this morning, my love,” said Mrs. Caldwell while helping the soup, “he has two such lovely Se\re tables, portraits of Louis XlVth's beauties ; you must let me have them for the drawing-room, they are such loves.” “ 1 really do wonder,” exclaimed Mr. Cald well, in his most decided tone, “ what you can want with any thing more in the drawingroom. I am sure that it is as much as any one can do to get across them as it is. I will have no more money spent on such trash.” “ This fish is capital, the sauce is a chef d'ceucre,” exclaimed the lady, hastening to change the discourse; “do let me recommend it.” Dinner proceeds, enlivened by a little series of delicate attentions on the part of the wife. One thing is advised; another, which she is well aware is her husband's aversion, playfully forbidden, with a “my dear Francis, you are so careless of yourself-—consider les horreurs de la digestion.” Dinner declines into dessert, and Mr. Cald well cats his walnuts, peeled ‘ By no hand, as you may guess, Bui that of Fairly Fair.” alias, Mrs. Caldwell’s very pretty fingers. lov ards the middle of his second glass of port, he perceives that there are tears in his wife’s sott blue eyes—which become ac’ual sobs as he progressed in the third glass. “ I see how it is, Laura; well, you shall have the tables.” “ l be tables ! ” cried the lady, with an air, as the school-boy said of ancient Gaul, quar tered into three halves, of disdain, wounded ■ec-lings, and tenderness; “I have really lost all wish lor them. It was of you, Francis, I was thinking; Good God! can you weigh a few paltry pounds against the pleasure of pleasing your wife 1 1 see I have lost my hold on your affections. What have I done > [ whose whole life has but one happiness, that of pleasing you !” We will not pursue the subject to its last conjugal close of tears and kisses ; suffice it to .• ay, that the next day the tables are sent home ; not given, but only accepted as a favor J Now this is a beautiful way of doing busi ness. \\ e serious y recommend its consider ation as a study to our lady readers. Scolding does much, for as the old riddie says, “any thing ” is what “ Many a man who has a wife, Submits to foi a quiet life.’’ But, fair half of the world, out of whos very remains the rise, as the eastern- proverb has and, was termeu at the creation—flatten, that honey of the heart, i s the true art of sway Instead of ffiv.de, our,new state seciet i a to reijrn — *