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— ■* ‘ 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