Newspaper Page Text
— ■* ‘ lEasßom
®(jc §§)omty IfjfVntft*
UY U. STYLES BELL.
Terms of Subscription.
THE Herald is printed oh a lurjrc imperial
sheet, with new typo, ■< 99 per year, in ad
vance, or $t t the expiration of the year.—
No subscription received for a less term than
one year, and no paper discontinued until all
arrearages are paid, except at the option of the
publisher.
Advertisements published at the usual
rates.
. !
#ortro.
From the Knickerbocker for January.
THE FLIGHT OF TIME.
BY PARK BENJAMIN.
Time still moves on, with noiseless pace,
And we are loiterers by the way ;
Few win, and many lose the race,
For which they struggle day by day ;
And even when the goal is gained,
How seldom worth the toil it seems!
How lightly valued, when obtained,
The prize that flattering Hope esteems !
Submissive to the winds of cliance,
We toss on Life's inconstant sea;
This billow may our bark advance,
And that may leave it on the lee;
This coast, which rises fair to view,
May 1* thick act with rocky mail,
And that, which beetles o’er the blue,
Be safest for the shattered sail.
The cloud that, like a little hand,
Slow lingers when the morning shines,
Expands its volumes o’er the land,
Dark as a forest-sea of pines;
Thile that, which casts a vapory screen
Before the azure realm of day,
Rolls upward from the lowland scene,
And from the mountain-tops uway.
Oh, fond deceit! to think the flight 1
Os time will lead to pleasures strange, j
And ever bring some new delight, j
To minds that strive and sigh for change. i ,
Within ourselves the secret lies,
Let seasons vary as they will;
Our hearts would murmur, though our skies
Were bright as those of Eden still !
STANZAS TO A LADY.
BY THE HEV. WALTER COLTON.
The hand that prints these accents here
Was never clusped in thine;
Nor has thy heart, with liope or fear,
E'er trembled back to mine.
And yet, from childhood’# early years,
Some being like to thee,
-fj fisVen, amid my doubts and tears,
H th sweetly smiled on me.
And oft, in dreams, I’ve twined the wreath
Above her eye of flame ;
Then listened, if ionic bird might breathe
The music of her name.
And oft have vainly sought to trace,
Amid the fair ami young,
The living type of this sweet face,
On Fancy ‘s mirror flung.
But, in its unrescmhlcd form,
The shadow dwelt with me,
Till unperceived, life-like and warm,
It softly fell on thee.
Then into substance passed the shade,
With charms still more divine,
As on thy face its features played,
And lost themselves in thine.
TALES OF THE MAGI.
BY A. ALI.AN, AUTHOR OF THE DRAMA OF LEILA.
THE GIFT OF THE NAIAD.
Morning was stealing with a soft ami rosy
blush over the darkness that veiled a sleeping
world, when Selim rose from his restless couch,
and wandered, with an embittered and repining
spirit, toward the distant river which pours its
tributary waters into the bosom of the deep
swelling Euphrates. Wrapt in his own gloomy
thoughts, he listened not to the hymns of the
sweet woodland choristers, already ascending
from every bush and tree, making the air vo
cal, nor heard the gentle murmuring of the
bright stream, as it kissed its verdant hanks
and glided away rejoicing on its peaceful
course. Nature spread her thousand varied
charms in vain before him, and the fragrant
perfume of the modest flowers that clustered
in his path gave no pleasure to his senses. In
sensible toall outward impressions, and utterly
absorbed in the dark conflict raging within, he
continued to hurry along the road he had un
consciously chosen with an irregular and un
certain step, heedless whither it might lead.—
Fatigue at last compelled him to throw himself
under the branches of a wide-spreading tree
that overshaded the river. He had lain there
some time, when his attention was suddenly
roused by the sound of a low, sweet voice be
side him.
“Why art thou so sad, oh mortal,” it said—
“ Why art thou so sad, when all around thee
smiles with happiness?”
Surprised at being thus addressed, Selim
looked up: and lo! a bright asrial being, beauti
ful as the houris, or the far-famed daughters of
I Gcnnistan, stood gazing upon him with eyes
more lustrous than the stars. The richest
bloom of health was on her cheek, and her
i>ro*v rivalled in whiteness the Parian marble
or the purest alabaster. A coronet of pearls
was on her head, confining the dark hair that
fell in graceful ringlets to her shoulders, and a
&£?&> m&w&ww
golden zone, thickly studded with brilliants,
circled her waist. And Selim knew that it
was the Naiad of the Stream ; for, although
he had never before seen her with his mortal
eyes, he had oftentimes seen her in dream and
vision, in the deep stillness of the midnight
hour, when the chaste moon and her attendant
! stars looked smilingupon the earth, frointheir
thrones in heaven.
“Arise!” said the spirit, as he bowed himself
| reverentially before her—“tell me the cause
I of thy affliction, and if thou art deserving I
! will aid thee.”
There wasa rich melody in her voice, such
: as Selim had never heard before, and its tones
j sank deep into his heart and became familiar !
; with his memory.
“Alas !”hc re plied, bitterly—“fortune frowns j
upon me, and the hand of evil destiny crushes
me to the earth, blighting my fairest and prou- j
dost hopes. Heaven has endowed me with
talents, and I have made tnyself familiar with
knowledge, seeking to unravel the mysteries
of nature, and all the wondrous phenomena
pertaining to an omniscient and overruling !
Providence. My days have been devoted to i
science, and in the vigils of the silent night j
have 1 breathed my spirit into words for the
benefit of my race : hut the world seoffs at my
pre-sumption, and only rewards my labdrwith
contumely and neglect. The ignorant insult
me with my poverty, and the wealthy shun
me as one afflicted with the plague, although
my spirit has never bowed itself to ask a favor
at their hands. I have sought for fame, and it
flies from me. Lonely and friendless have I |
lived, lonely and friendless shall I die, and
leave no trace behind me.”
“Thou art yet but a youth,” responded the
Naiad, soothingly; “it is not wise of thee to
permit despair so soon to usurp the throne of
hope. Does not the sun rise at last on the j
darkest night, and does not his light break forth ,
a more dazzling glory when envious clouds
have hidden his earlier beams? May it not
prove so with thee? May not the gloom of thy
morning be as a veil, concealing the lustre of
thy noon? Cast from thee thy despair, and
press forward on thychosen path with manly
energy, remembering that whose plants must
await the harvesting to gather his reward.—
Take this talisman ; wear it constantly in thy
Isisom, and when thy spirit yields to despon
dency, peruse the inscription engraven upon
it. Put faith in w hat it tells thee, and be as
sured the triumph will at lust be thine.
Selim took the talisman from her hand, and
would have thanked her for the gift, hut, plung
ing into the river, she disappeared immediate- j
ly from his sight. The water, which parted to
receive her,closed again without arising bub
ble to betray the violence done to it.
With a brighter and more hopeful heart,
Selim returned to the city. The gloom of the
past faded from his memory, giving place to
bright anticipations of the future. And he
toiled night and day as before, unceasingly ;
and w hen the unthinking scoffed and his spirit
grew weary of the struggle it was engaged in,
lie thought upon the command of the Naiad,
and drew the talisman from his bosom and read
the inscription upon it; and when he had done
so, he seemed like one who had newly quaffed j
at the fountain of life, for the weariness depart- |
ed from his spirit, anil hope came back more i
buoyant than ever, enabling him to return with J
renovated vigor to his work. Men looked* on, i
and wandered at his steadiness. At first they
sneered, and said—“lt is but a sudden energy
that will soon fail:” but after along period,
when they saw that his ardor remained una
bated, they began to praise and to admire.—
And their murmurs woke Fame from her sleep,
and she listened, and took her trumpet and
sounded through it the name of Belim to the
world. And the world caught the name and
echoed.
From that day Selim rose rapidly to fortune.
Beauty smiled upon him, and men bowed
themselves in willing homage to his genius,
feeling no envy at his prosperity, for they saw
that it was deserved.
Many years after, when his celebrity was es
tablished and age had shed its snows upon his
head, he returned to the place where he had
received the gift of the Naiad, and built a mon
ument there, engraving upon it in letters of
gold, that all might read and be instructed, the
inscription of the talisman—
“success is THE REWARD OF PERSEVERANCE.”
All the Health. —The people and papers
of every district of country in the land, delight
to tell of the perfect health enjoyed in their
own region, but we think the whole nation will
now have to yield the palm to the good people
of Bayou La Fourche, La. The Ascention j
| Herald has the following well told “good one.” 1
“We frequently hear persons boast of the
health of their several neighborhoods, in very
extravagant terms, but we think a friend of
ours living on Bayou La Fourche can beat all
others. He insists that no person was ever
sick in his neighborhood, and very seldom any
one died. He says that when the vicinity
where he lives was first settled, the emigrants
were generally very young, and lived there so
long, without seeing any body die, they did
not k now what deathwas. They did not tra
vel much or they might have been better in
formed in other places. He says that at last
one old man about one hundred and forty years
old died, and they could not imagine what the
deuce was the matter with him, but kept him
four days sitting in a chair, when some travel
ler passing told them the old man was defunct,
and then they buried him.”
; By putting a piece of lump sugar the
■ i size of a walnut into the tea pot, you will
i make the tea infuse in one half the time.
DAIJIEN, OEOHGU, TUF.SDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 5,1839.
MY OWN PECULIAR.
OR STRAY LEAVES FROM THE PORT-FOLIO
OR A GEORGIA LAWYER.
NUMBER ONE.
There are three things in life, for which
I have an unutterable and unconquerable
aversion, namely: dust, a north-east wind
and a petulent old maid. These are the
three grand divisions of human misery.—
All other evils, mental and physical, corpo
real or incorporeal, take their origin from
these. They are the fountains from whence
flow penury, affliction, disease, and death;
and if there he such a thing as a ‘material
hell,’ I doubt not that it is made up of a
happy admixture of these three. The old
story of literal fire and brimstone has lost
half its terrors. If our energetic preach
ers, of the modern ultra or Burchard school,
who deal out these articles by the whole
sale, to the racing, dancing, and drinking
reprobates, of the present generation,
would but change their metaphor, and draw
a vivid picture of a dry and barren plain,
with clouds of dust floating over its surface,
blinding the eyes and choaking the breath
of the condemned sinner; with a north-east
wind chilling the very marrow of his hones,
and an innumerable host of antiquated vir
gins hovering around him—one for each
silt he had committed on earth—lain quite
sure that an amazing and immediate refor
mation would he the inevitable consequence.
The fellow who would grin at ‘brimstone,’
would look serious at ‘dust;’ the ‘north-east
wind’ would stop the most hardened offen
der in mod-career; but when lie was told
that each sin he committed would visit him
hereafter in the shape of a crabbed octoge
narian old maid, you would see forcibly il
lustiuted that line in Virgil.
‘Stctcruntque conme et vox fnuoibus lines it.’
If he did not then reform, you might give
him up. If he stood that, he would stand
any thing. You might put him down as
incorrigible; as ‘an apostate from his moth
er’s womb.’ You might search his head
for a twelve-month, without finding the or
gan of caution, while that of amativeness
would be prodigiously large. In short, lie
would be just such a man as phrenologists
tell you have‘an especial relish for damna
tion, for its own sake.’
Don't imagine, render, that whining
class, who sigh over all the little evils of
cxistuncc. On the contrary, I have mot
and conquered some of its sternest foes.—
Gout lias twisted iny toes into ribbands; ap
poplexy has darted sheet lightning through
my brain; and angina pectoran has sent the
warm blood leaping to the inmost citadel
of my heart; but I have struggled through
them all, and I am now a hale, hearty,
cheerful, and vigorous old man, willing to
live, and ready to die. It is not the light
cloud of summer day-dust, nor the gentle
north-east wind nor the cheerful, amiable,
delightful old maiden lady, that I dread;
but it is the Egytiun cloud; the ‘terrible
searcher from the sea;’ the cross, crabbed,
vinegar, man-hating, cat-loving, match
breaking specimen of virginity. 1 can stand
all evils but these, which I hate with a fer
vor that has acquired the force of habit.
Speaking of habit: Phrenologists are all
at fault, when they tell us that our actions
originate entirely from the developments of
the brain. They do no such thing. AVe
arc the creatures of habit‘and association.
Our pleasures are derived from our asso
ciation of ideas, and these proceed from our
habits. Let me give you an instance. I
was seated in my study the other day, pod
ding over the mysteries of my old master,
Coke, when I heard the terrible cry of‘l'ire!’
I ran to the window, and looked out; and
sure enough, there it was ! A volume of
black smoke was clouding and obscuring
the atmosphere, while ever and anon a vi
vid sheet of lire would dart forth from the
surrounding darkness, like a ray of hope
springing out of the clouds and blackness
of existence, f seized my hat, and rushed
down. On my wav to the locus in quo I
passed the Exchange building, in whose
steeple there is a bell, that has been wont
to sound tbe tocstß of alarum of fire, for a
period longer than the memory of that most
respectable of all individuals, ‘the oldest
inhabitant.’ At the base of the edifice, and
gazing intently on the bell, stood an old ac
quaintance of mine. ‘Why don’t you go
to the fire ?’ said I, shaking him. ‘Fire?’
answered he,‘there is no lire.’ ‘No fire!’
said I, ‘why don’t you sec it? It’s close
upon you ! You’ll feel it directly.’ ‘There
is no fire,’ exclaimed he with vehemence;
‘the bell has not rung.’ Unable and un
willing to combat this logic, I left him ; but
as I like to read the pages of human nature,
I turned, when I had passed about twenty
steps, and gazed at him. There he stood
the atmosphere rendolent with flame, and
crowds of men, women, and ineipent speci
mens of both sexes, rushing by him.—
Horses without riders, and riders without
horses, fire-engines tossingtheirgiantarms;
the echo of a thousand voices flinging back
that awful monosyllable, ‘ fire !’—and yet
thore he stood, transfixed, a statue immova
ble. ‘The bell had not rung;’ but of a sud
den, it ‘gave tongue,’ and its first stroke
had the mine effect upon him as Mr. Cross’
electro ga'wanic battery has upon flints and
pummice stues. It vivified him; the sta
tue started ini life and with an energy per
fectly appalling, he rushed to the scene of
confusion, shouting‘fire 1 fire!’ with a ve
hemence that arrest*] the crowd in its ca
reer. ‘Why don’t youT 0 t o the fire?’bawl
ed he, as he passed me. ‘Oh, nonsense ?’
said 1, ‘there is no fire.’ */<; fire! screamed
he, in tones of direst aHtotqjfim^rit; ‘why
don't you hear the. bell V
Now that’s what I call ass^.; at ; on 0 [
ideas. That man during his whq,, ex ; 9t .
ence, had been summoned to fires t | ic
ringing of that hell; he could not, thcrV orC)
I for the life of him, separate the ideas
mind; and though his wife, children, and
goods, (last not least,) were being consum
ed before his eyes, he would not have mov
ed a muscle to save them from the devour
ing element, until ‘the hell had rung.’
Let me give you another example. My
study is in the second story of a building,
and beneath me there dwells a tailor; a
hard-working, clever, and honest man. Mv
window looks out upon his garden, a spot
some two by three feet,and where he spends
his leisure moments. Ills pleasures are all
concentrated in that ‘basis of life’s desert.’
Now fair reader what do you think he has
planted there ? ‘Violets?’ No. ‘Sweet
williams?’ Not exactly; he has planted
‘Stop, don’t tell me!’ Indian creepers
and morning glorys?’ Try it again.—
‘Phsaw ! Well, button-weed, 1 suppose?’
‘That’s somewhat nearer; but you have not
it yet. Do you give it up? Well he has
planted n cabbage—a full blown, tLrorous
cabbage !’ No lover of the, honfflMiloon
looks more anxiously for the smile of his
mistress than does our friend of the shears
watch over the developments of his much
loved plant, Pygmalion’s adoration of
Marmora was a milk-and-water feeling,
compared with the enthusiastic devotion of
our tailor to his cabbage. It is watered by
his tears, and tended with his hands. The
blighting frosts of winter harm it not, in its
moss-covered sanctuary; and iny own heart
leaps with benevolent feeling, as I see iny
honest friend plying his needle at his shop
board, and casting now and then delighted
glances at the beloved of his eyes, while his
voice carrols forth some long-remembered
ditty, forcibly reminding the hearer of the
nightingale’s sonnet to the rose. In the
language of tbe poet,
‘lt is the rainbow of his sight,
His joy, his heavch us pure delight.’
Now, I ask whence springs this affection ?
Answer re-echoes of the human heart! Is
it not association of ideas? Surely!
The truth of the matter is, that all man
kind are mad, and womankind also. There
breathes no man, woman, or child, who is
not on some point or otliei hopelessly in
sane. The symptoms are various, lint the
disease is the same. The other day an in
dividual called to consult me professional
ly. He belonged to the Dr. Johnson class
albeit rather a minute specimen. ‘Sir,’ I
desire to state a cane to you ; to.get your
advice, promptly*dearly, categorically. I
dislike circumlocution. I love brevity.
Sir, n dog came on my premises yesterday
a white dog, Sir, with black spots, a cut
tail, and long ears, Sir. I describe him,
Sir, with this precision, because 1 know
the necessity of your being acquainted
with all the leading facts before you ven
ture an opinion. Sir, I hailed him ; I re
peated it—and again ; you perceive, Sir,
three times. 1 did thus to the dog, because
I would do the same to the man, Sir. It
is part of the luw of nature, Sir, that you
should hail three times, before you sited
blood, Sir. Well, Sir, as I said, 1 received
no answer. Os course I expected none ;
but I desired to preserve my consileney,
and act toward a beast with the same hu
manity I would exorcise toward a man.
They arc both God’s creatures, Sir. Well
Sir, I say I received no answer. I bad a
gun, a double-barrelled gun, Sir. I held
it in my right hand, Sir—observe, I say
“the right baud ;’ make yourself acquaint
ed with the leading facts, Sir, before you
venture, an opinion. 1 raised it slowly.
No answer yet, Sir; I expected none, Sir,
of course. I cocked it. Still no answer.
Os course, I expected none. I applied my
linger to the trigger, Sir; 1 pulled it; I
fired ! He fell—Ke bled—he died. I did
not fire the second barrel, Sir. I consid
ered it unnecessary. I belong to the utili
tarian class. I do nothing that is unne
cessary, Sir. Now, Sir I oin coming to
the important point. Suppose, Sir, that
instead of the white dog, with black spots,
a cut tail and long ears, suppose a limn had
entered my premises ; that I had hailed
him three times; you perceive* three times,
I receive no answer; 1 raise my gun, I
cock it, fire it. He falls—he bleeds—he
dies. Tell me, Sir, briefly, distinctly, cat
egorically, without equivocation, Sir,
what, in your opinion, would be the conse
quences.’
‘Hanging,’ said I.
‘Sir, I deny it. I asked your opinion,
Sir, us a matter of form, but iny own judg
ment was made up long ago. No court on
earth, Sir, could so far violate the primi
tive rules of nature, as to bang a man, Sir,
who had hailed three times. Nature says
hail three times, and fire.’
‘My good Sir,’ I interposed, ‘you forgot
that nature has no blunderbusses : how
then can she command you to fire ?’
She has no blunderbusses, Sir, as you
truly, but I regret to add, ignorantly and
flippantly remark, but she has sticks and
stones, Sir, and she throws them in the
way of the oppressed. I reason anotogi
cally, Sir, and progressively. Nature
gives sticks and stones, Sir , nature gives
man intellects, Sir ; man makes blunder
busses. Now, Sir, observe the apology ;
notice the progression ; perceive the rea
soning. Nature makes man ; man makes
blunderbusses. Man is the agent of nature,
the ‘general agent,’ Sir, as you lawyers
call it with unlimited powers —‘qiii facit
■per alium, facit per se.’ Yes, Sir, nature
makes blunderbusses, Sir. I have studied
these things, Sir; I read nature, Sir. Her
pages are not scaled books to me. I have
the ‘open sessamc’ to her most hidden trea
sures, Sir. There’s your tec, Sir. Good’
morning, Sir.
‘What a powerful intellect that man lias ‘■
said a good nalurcd and slightly-troubled- ;
with-tlic-fool friend of mine, who had been !
a listener to our discourse ; ‘what a pity
he is so eccentric ! It he would only ap
ply his vast learning to some usciul object
if lie were not quite so positive and rude,
lie would be a most distinguished man.
What an ass you arc I was tempted to
say ; but I cheeked myself. Now render
both these men were crazy—as mad us
mad as ‘March hares.’ The first imagined
himself one of the master spirits of the age,
and base coin passed current with the oth
er man. He mistook the coarse, rude,
stubborn, digressive and insane speech of
this co-madman, for genuine intelligence,
and commendable decision. And so it
generally passes with the world. Kind
ness and gentleness of manner is regarded
as the unerring index of a weak and vacil
lating mind, while the brute, who tramples
ou the feelings of all those on whom he
dares to make the experiment, is looked
upon ns a man of energy and firmness,
and as veiling under the exterior ofa bear
the gentleness and amiability of the dove.
That nnnnnlmis class of mankind, ‘mer
chant tailors,’ show their judgment of hu
man nature in this respect, when they bang
a pea jacket at their doors, to indicate that
they have fine broadcloth coats and linen
shirts for sale, within.
Now a sensible man, or to speak more
correctly, a man whose monomania was
ol a different kind, would have but the
question thus : ‘Sir, a dug broke into my
ground yesterday, and after making three
efforts to drive him out, I killed hint. I
am desirous to know what consequences’
would attach to the act, if under similar
circumstances, 1 should kill a man !’ Byl
this would have been regarded by the by
stander of whom 1 spoke, as mere coinnum
place, while all his encomiums were Uv
ished oil the rigmarole stuffofthe pompous
maniac, in whose whole speech there /was
not a single word of meaning or common
sense. Stop, render; I take back the last
assertion. There where three worths in
that speech, which were indicative of'sound
judgment,, dear preemption, and unclouded
intellect. They were if I may speak figu
ratively, the sun’s rav amid the morning
mist; the eye in the toad; the grain of
wheat in the dung-hill; the green spot in
the desert. The most nciito. observer of
human nature, the soundest philosopher,
the most kind hearted and benevolent in
dividual, could not have used more fit, more
appropriate, more iritcllgildc, expressions.
In truth they softened my wrath, they nid
ified my displeasure. 1 forgot the stub
bornness of the individual who stood before
me, and I could not help thinking, nfterull,
that my good matured friend was half right ;
if he WCUe not quite so positive and rude,
lie would lie a most estimable mid distin
guished man. Oin you guess the talisman
ic words; No? Then I’ll tell you. They
are contained in the last sentence but one,
when, soiling the ‘action to the word, lie ob
served : — ‘There's your fee !’ Sen ex.
A Kingly Pastime. —Ferdinand the
VII. was at Valencia, on liis way to Madrid,
in tiie mouth of April, 1814. A party were
at breakfast one day, at the house of Mr.
Topper, the English consul, among whom
was the late General Kir Philip Roche, who
had entered the Spanish service, and who
was oil the Staff of the King. While at
breakfast, an account reached them of Na
poleon’s abdication. Roche proceeded im
mediately to acquaint his Majesty with it.
He found in the anti-chamber the Due dc
L’lufunludo “I want to see the King,” said
Roche, “You cannot,” replied the Duke—
“he is engaged.” “I must.” “You can
not,” “It is an affair of the first conse
quence.” -“Ilis Majesty is particularly oc
cupied.” “Announce me, and say i bring
news of the greatest importance,” The
Duke acquiesced, bill returned with a mes
sage from the King, desiring that the mat
ter he communicated through him, (the
Due dc L’inl'antado,) s his Majesty was
absorbed by a momentous concern. “That
I will not do,” sahl Roche. “The affair is
of the most pressing and important nature,
and I wilt communicate it to none but the
King.’’ The Duke once more entered the
royal apartment, and obtained a reluctant
order to admit Roche, with which lie com
plied.
Ou entering the room, Roche found the
King and his brother Don Carlos, (the pre
sent Pretender,) at opposite seats ofa table,
on which was a large glass vase, with tubes
projecting from it. The vase was full of
water, and in the water were a number of
gold-fish, which the Royal brothers were
spearing with straws or splinters of wood
through tiie tubes. “Ah, Roche, how do
you doj” said the King, malting a lunge.—
“WhalV the news, General?” asked Don
Carlos, repelling a fish which had avoided
the vigorous thrust of the monarch. “Bo
naparte has abdicated, your Majesty.” “In
deed! Now Carlos, you will have him
again at your side,” and with his skewer he
poked one of the mi fortunate fish thatlmd
darted from the side of Don Curios, who,
at that moment ‘game point,’ uttering a
shoutof triumph ! —■ Courier and /•inquirer.
The O'rare.- —‘Why,* says Ossiun,
‘shouldst thou build tJiy Hail, son of the wing
ed days? tliou looks,st from the towers to-day,
yet a few years and the blast of the desert
comes ; it howls in the empty court, and whis
tles around the half worn shield ! Then why
should man look forth as he fondly hopes up
on the sunny future with the eye of fancy, and
lay up the golden visions, which hqve passed
like sunbeams, in*Fifs pilgrimage, ill the hope
of brighter ones yet to come, when to-morrow
the, clods may be heaped ou hi*Coffin, and t
hove bis quiet rest the sepulchral views trem
ble in the wind ! Alas ! if their is aught on
eartli which should make man feel that ‘the
rich and the poor meet together, and that the
Lord is maker of them ail ! it is the gvq.fc s !
It is there resentment dies—revenge and am
bition arc satiated ; it is there, above, the urn
of sorrow, man must learn that,
——-‘Life is u torrid day ;
Parch’d by tiie wind and sun - - .1
And ileatii the calm, cool night,
When tbe weary day is done !’
VOL. 1. NO. 3.
Our Country. —Tlio lapse of half a century
has wrought almost miraculous changes in the
aspect of the United Slates west, of the Alle
ghany Mountains; ns a remarkable illustration
of this, we could mention the State of Ohio, in
which fifty years since there were only sixty
four white inhabitants. Now, her population
exceeds one million. What mighty advance
ment in wealth, power and population may wo
not anticipate forour country duringthe next
half century! The anticipations of the most
sanguine calculator will probably be found far
short of the reality at the expiration of that
period. Should tbe “Star-spangled Itanner ”
then still continue to wave over one undivided
Republic, how noble, lmw grand, how com
manding the attitude she will maintain among
(lie nations ofthe Earth. What England now
claims to lie, she will then have become, thear
bitross of the world, the conservator of Liberty
and the, dauntless defender of the rights of
mankind. Here to the latest period of time
may ail the pillars of Liberty’s temple stand
unimpaired supporting one’grand and stupen
dous edifice, the wonder and admiration of
/mankind ; from its summit untarnished and un
torn, forever may the proud banner of our na
tive land float on the breezes of heaven.
“Flag of my country! in thy folds
Are wrapped llie treasures ofthe heart,
Where’er that waving sheet is fanned,
By breezes of the sea or land,
It bids the life-blood start.
Wave over us in glory still.
And be our guardian us now
I-.ar.li wind of heaven shall kiss thy checks;
And withered be the arm that seeks
To bring that banner low!”
A fair retort. —One of the most learned and
witty of a very talented bench of county judg
es, recently undertook to cheapen the price
allowed by the board of supervisors to the sher
iff for boarding the prisoners in jail. The wor
thy functionary <i,,<>iur*i that he could find
those who would contract to board m.n, m
seven shillings a head per week, and insisted
that the price allowed should not, therefore, ex
ceed that paltry sum. A bystander aptly re
marked in reply, that lie could easily find men
who would fill the, worthy judge’s seat upon
the bench, and da its duties as well as he did,
for fifty cents a day—ergo that compensation
was amply sulliceut for his judgeship. The
truth of the proposvjon we s0 apparent to the
mind of his honor, tIKt ho did not feel dispo
sed to press the matter further.
UuJJ'alo Patriot.
Good Advice. —ln one of our courts in
this city, a blacksmith who had the gift of
stammering to perfection was called intp
court as a witness between two journeymen
of his, in a law suit ; the amount in ques
tion being about 75 cents. The judge, af
ter hearing his testimony, askcil him why
ho find not advised bis workmen to settle,
tin- cost being five times the amount of the
disputed sum. In reply the witness obser
ved—‘l t-t-t-t-old the foo-o-ols to settle. I
s-s-suid the eon-constables would take their
co-o-oats, the lawyers their sh-shirts, and
by j-jings, if they got into your Hon-Hon
or’s court, you’d sk-sk-sk-sk-skin ’em.
Transportation. —An old covie ordered
his son to turn out the saddle and hang up
the mare. Maid he to a neighbor—“ When
I earne home yesterday, I found my wife
wide open, and the door sick abed : the
gate had left the boys open, and the field
was in the hogs ; so I emight up a hog and
broke itoverevery rail’s back ill the field,
and every pumpkin took up a hog and run !
Huston Herald.
.1 Doric Case. —The following anecdote is
in circulation, and is said to be authentic; an
individual of fortune being awoke two nights
ago by a severe cholic, fancied himself attacked
by the cholera, and sent oflinimoiliatoly for
physicians, desiring his-servants in the mean
lime to rub him with a flesh brush. When
the medical gentlemen arrived they found their
patient ofa most terrific appearance, having
turned quite black from head to foot, but on
closer examination, they found that the color
was not that of the skin, as it came off on being
touched, and it length it was discovered that
tbe poor servant in his fright bad laid hold of
the blacking brush, and thus varnished the body
of his suffering master, who, after the udniiu
istrotion of some usual remedies and the appli
cation of a worm bath, soon reovered his health
and fair complexion.—London upper.
A French diplomatist, in Rossia gives the
followin g description of u coronation : . .
“It was an imposing ceremony, the Emperor
having his father’s assassins at bis side, bis
grnndfarther’s assassins before him, and hi
own assassins behind him.”
A Hint. — Bills of indictment had been sent
up to a Grand Jury, in the finding of which
Mr. Curran was interested. After delay and
in itch hesitation, one ofthe grand jurors came
into Court to explain to the Court ibe grounds
and reasons why it was ignored. Mr, Curran,
very much vexed by the stupidity of this per
son said, “You, sir, can have no objection to
write upon tiie back of the bill ignoramus, for
self and fellow jurors, it will be a t rue bill.”
The Hampshire Gazette states that a far
mer in Helchertown, in that state, makes it
liis practice to give one fifth of his annual
income to charitable objects. This year he
lias cleared SSOOO on mulberry trees alone,
and gives two thousand dollars in charity.
In an article on the importance ofa prop
er dispositon of the relative pronoun and
the antecedent, the Albany Journal quotes
the following sentence from Morse’s Geog
raphy, describing Albany thjabWMjmfUh
“lt contains,” says the i'B. STREET, Jgk
houses and 0000 iiiliub” All persona
with their gable c;ir/ llan< * mem ‘ n ajM|
Tip is about ttwjg*”
dyis i” i’i ‘■ ■ s m
her and ra'-radi-
ion esedjTjjM