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JOHN H. CHRISTY kT.E LAHFKDT,) EDITORS Asro PROPRIETORS. j Elcootctr to Nous, |)oUttcs, Citcraturr, (General JnteUigence, &gricnlttite, &c. (Terms i—TWO DOLLARS per annum, ( INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. • NEW SERIES—VOL. D. NO. 20. ATHENS, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1848. VOLUME XVI. NUMBER 32. floctrn ffliscellaneons. The 3Ia»lac. Clown. Written for the Southern Whig. THE STONE MOUNTAIN. Lora! Aloof As in Uw eonadoonMi of thine own Thou sUmfst alone, isolated bj the Grandeur of thins own glory. - Lifting op thy fearless head to heaven. While firm—unshaken and erect thy giant Fast boar op thy mammoth boat. Sustained by thine own strength, tho’ in solitude And solemnity unbending still, thy Bagal brow cloud-bared cap a thousand Storms hare braved, and backward hurled the ^bonder’s bolt and dared the light'ning’s stroke. Unshaken still I Thy towering height looks Boldly down upon each hill and stream, and Tho* not far removed from busy throngs, Thou art alone made solitary by Thine own greatness, as mind above the common . Herd finds no companionship.''. Shadow awqp the strong man's soul, and aa he Turns to thee feels as if ushered in \ The presence of mysterious power. The lightnings flash falls harmless on thy brow And winds of fearful aright rave vainly a Bound thy solid base. The screaming blast nor • Burning sun brings terror unto tbee, -• Too brave thou art, no fear hast thou of light 1 -Or darkness, wave or wind. Thy sides the wild Chief trod, ere foot-step* of the white man scaled Thy heights, or left one vestige his retreating Feet behind. What tales oflove and madness Tbou woolcfit tell—bow teems each niche with stories Bark and dread; but legends like to these are Lost, and all we know of thee, is that thou Art a mammoth, of the Eternal's might And power I - JfilMgetille, November. . THE WIDOW. ■ A Widow is a dangerous thing, With soft black, shining curls. And looketh more bewitching Than a boat of roming girls. Her laugh is so delicious— So knowing, dear, beside, You'd never dream her thinking Soon to become a bride. Her dress, though made of sables, Givis roundness to her form— A touch of something thoughtful, A Witching, winning charm: And when she sits down by you. With quiot and easy grace— A tear may fell unbidden, Or amnio light up her lace. Her voice is soft—melodious— Anditute-like in iU tone: She saanMimes sighs, M His dreadful. To pass through life alone." And tnee shell tell you, you remind her Of tbe'love’d one dead and gooe; Your step, jour form, your features: Thus tho widow will run on. Her .lips distil the nectar * That doth an slave tho heart: From the Cfearbwton Courier. LINES 6N THE TflCl’OA FALLS IN HAB ERSHAM, GA. The creek whirh formj thin fall is quite small and flows gently over a predpfce Cite hundred and eighty feet in height into apool below'. The pool m situated in a kind of glen. The glenbci. *rg almost entirely sur rounded by high preanttoos*m ountains forms a iw * delightful and romantic rctrept Tho name Toccoa jan Indian word, signifying '*11» Smiling," or “T ■ Bsantiftd streamlet that lowest to glide sweetly adownthe s torpsido ^ , 'stub lime marble waB, Casting kkeir spray out upon all atom «d. Bedew ray with moisture the rocks hnd tho ground. How brightly they sparkle mSoTsfcoM’en light, ?Like the gemiwhkh bespangle the'W w of the night ,!What beautiful tints does the rainb*r cb 'splay . As the rays of the son now reflect tifroeg, '■ the spray. : How dabghtfsl to Grander in this fairy del!, , Where Coolness and Beauty and Melody <h 'rail,' 'Tooooa, the beautiful, kmgmajst fina<Ml Thy waters ef gladness, refreshing the sonl -Ofthe lowr of nature, wbo happens to stray «,Vato thy rural shrine his devotions to p^y. . aSB emend and all above thee Is Am hushed anti charmed irir, . AB thing* woo the*, all tilings love Maiden fair! * Oeatie arphjTs perfume la^athuig, Waft to thee their tribute sweet, ■ Andfcr thee the Spring is wreathing Whereso’cr thy footsteps stray, t Ocr the earth's enamored bosom. Lira ahray. *“ Whcraso'er thy presence finger* mecera’cr thy brightness beams ; I'ancywrearaa with canning fingers. Sweetest dreanw. < vM, . And the'heart forgets thee sever, ■V ■ •■sSiSMSattSi. <' * f Em* bright jpnde.—I never saw pride in a nobte * mature nor humility in an unworthy * mind. Of all the trees, I observe that "Ood'bath'Chosen the vine, a low nlant that creeps upon the helpless’ wall; of ■'»ll beasts the soft and patient lamb; of -\m birds the *mfld and g entle dove*—- ~*Wbea <5od appeared to Moses, it was 90 -lot in iflie lofty •cedar* i lor the sturdy ** , ■** die spreading pilane; but in a °“* , *ide,slender, abject bush.; lhuI1 '.'. -treses Icci/ons check Notfer ft^ , n as if he would by u. Wotfc- the conceited arrogancsefro^a ® _ 1 ing procureth love like hqnail^y * BY J. H. BROWN. The following narrative, with scarely an alteration is true. The particulars were taken from the mouth of the un fortunate creature, during one of the lucid intervals, between his fits of mad ness, while confined in the madhouse ofP——England, and may be remem bered as being noticed by the Journals of the time; the notes tfere laid aside— but not forgotten, and the atotbor had but waited aft opportunity to place them in this manner before the readers of this sheet. “ And here,” said the keeper, as he came to No. 13, from whence cam& low moaning, “here we have a strange prisoner, from whom you may gather a tale worthy of note and surpassing any you have taken if we can but find him quiet as be is at timesa strange story is bis, and he is one of the most savage and raving prisoners we have, at times.” So saying, he unlocked the door, af ter having looked through at the grate, and we entered; crouched down upon his iron and immoveable seat in the corner,with his face buried in his hands, hair long, black and matted, bis dress fantastical and strange—being but the attire, (torn in various places,) of a ring mimic—was a man who moved not at our entrance ; he was like all we had seen chained by the wrist to the floor, rendering it impossible for him to move more than was required in sitting, or lying upon the co arse bed beside him. Nothing escaped-him except a low moaning which he at times sent forth, and shaking his head, buried still deep er in his hands; the keeper said in this manner be had passed whole days, and then be was most peaceable and least violent. .Touching him with the end of the slick he carried in his band, he said— “ Look up«” And the miserable crea ture turned up his haggard features to our view. Why do you cora^ here again ?” said he, sadly—“ to make a show of me ? You tell me, and those who come to look at me, that I am mad! do you not fear me t ay ! strong man—do you not fear me weak creature that lam? yes, and so you chain my arms and jiands and feet so that I cannot lift them op, but look ye, there is something you cannot chain !—one thing you cannot manacle, and if yon could, I would bear all the chains that could be heaped upon me— my Memory! chain that! keep tnat dread form from before me—let it not haunt me day and night—let me not hear tho voice that rings forever in ray ear, and f ou may chain and load me gown, and will thank you for it.” And he dropped bis head and .buried his face once more in his hands. “ He has not been so rational for many aday,” for he is like a lion when, the fit is on him and—” *• Ha! ha! ha! lam with you once again ! come, is all ready ? who goes on first? why do you stare so wildly at me ? come, I am merry, and shall make them laugh out to-night!—ba! ha! ba! and bis face was lit up with a wild de moniacal expression. Soon he spoke again—.m-i*,a\- * “Where’s Mary, not come yet?— Strange it’s time—long past the time, and she knew well that she should be here early. Why gaze at me ? she is not—no, no, nothing has happened—tell me, is she safe, is my dear child safe! Ob God! 1 remember, Mary is dead— dead. Ha! ha! ha!” And with loud shrieks, he dashed his hands to his forehead. Soon he sat down again on his low iron stool, dejectedly, and spoke not; then looking up again, he gazed round, and upon the keeper and myself who stood by the door beyond bis reach. " Come nearerto me,” said he beckon ing, “come nearer; no, not you* I fear you,” and he shuddered as the keeper stepped towards him—“ I fear you for your eye strikes terror to my heart, and that* and the form of my child before me ever, is all 1 dread! Come, and I will tell you of my child—my little Ma ry, my own pet child—I’ll tell you how she died.” Not daring to trust myself within bis reach I stepped as near to him as possi ble, so that he could not reach me; he bent forward, placed bis head upon his hand, and with a sudden termor, and wildly glaring eye, be began. . “ Once, I know not when, hut I could count my days, I knew the night, could tell the bright sun, and the.cle,ar moon and the clear stars, but now all are the same to tne> Bays I know none, and the night lingers round me ever; well, .long, long ago, ere, I came to this doll g loomy place I was out among men '; drank, eat, cried, laughed, like men, ay, aud that too merrily, for I was jester in the ring, made the crowd, the heart less rabble, laugh and shout, and raised a merry noise, no matter if my heart was sick or gay, hut I was glad some th* es to see the long tiers, the closely packed boxes, and the stalls each one with smiles, to bear the loud laugh, and merry words, and knew that I bad caused it all—to hear their loud hurrahs, to see them wave their bats and hand kerchiefs, when with a shrill whoop, 1 jumped into the ring. Thai would belied the smile upon my face, the jest to which iiiy heart gave utterance. Well,So years wenton,until my wife own beloved Mary, died, she whom I loved so fondly and true, I laid to sleep in the cold damp earth ; no one could have thought that I,the jester, the clown, the one that made them laugh, could tceep. But oh! how many hours I have S assed beside that lonely grave; my lary! she had loved me as tew women loved ; she had trod on in the same rough road, standing beside me in my troubles and sorrow, enduring what I enjoyed, or suffering without a murmur; and when I knew she was dead, itseem- ed as iCmy rime on earth was over, and the same grave dug for her should take me in also. But she had left me one, over whom I must watch with anxious ness, and love if possible, more than heretofore, my little daughter, the image of her mother, my own little pet, Mary. I struggled with the deep, the bitter curse of poverty. Could I have gained a livelihood by toil, incessant hardships and endurance, efeewhere,gladly would I have rushed to it, and blessed heaven for its kindness. But no; poor, broken down, a miserable, wretched man—i profession, no business, save the one followed. I was still forced to drag * the arena, where my wants allowed but a very.scanty respite upon my wife’s death. But what cared the crowd ? the clown should not be sad, no, no, impos sible for the ring jester to weep, it was a thing unheard of, and would have raised a louder laugh than any of my liveliest sallies. And so with heart overburthened, sick and faint, I was forced to laugh and make merry. Oh 1 ! what a pleasure and joy to me was little Mary! how her sweet and artless smiles lit up the gloom Within my breast—how her merry laugh made me feel young and happy for a time, and with what fondness, strange, ay mad devotion did I hang upon every word, tone or look of hers! She grew, and was beautiful indeed. “How many hours, when the toil of my profession was over for the night, did 1 sit beside her little cot, and gaze upon her as she lay sleeping before rn often, veiy often, with a smile playing upon her lovely face, telling that her dreams were sweet and pleasant, and making me even smile m yself as I looked upon her and wished that I was young, and innocent, as pute as was she. “ And then what horrid, horrid thoughts, came crowding in upon my fevered brain. Ah! how I’d struggle and fight with them, and I would weep and moan aloud. “ For oh! I thought—yes the thoughts would come, what if death should rob me of her—her, my Mary—all, all I loved in the wide earth—she in whom were centered all my affections, the only one inducing me still to drag on my weary life; what if the cold strong My. salary became inadequate to my wants. I pinched myself to allow my daughter education, and to enable her to dress prettily, and that she might not sufier for a thing. So 1 applied for more ; and told them I could not live with what 1 had. But alas! they re plied that my request could not be com plied with, they said they would retain me paying we what I was then receiv ing, or that I might go, for though I was a favorite, I was growing weak and old, and many a younger one was .waiting for the situation I then held. “ I demurred, but it was of no a^ail— I pleaded poverty but there was no help, and was turning to leave, when once again the manager spoke to me— “ If you are poor, and wanting as you say, I can name a way in which you can gain money.” “ Name it,” eagerly cried I. “Your daughter, she is young and handsome, she—” . “ Wbat mean you by these words,” shouted I, as 1 stood panting before him. “ Why not train her for the arena?” “Horrible idea! Train ray little Mary for the arena ? No, no, I could not think of such a thing. I could not find in my heart to bring, that dear one, pure as she was, untouched, unsullied yet by sin, into the midst of the ma ny low vile creatures hanging around such a place. No, no, the thought was agony. “ So I toiled on, harder and harder than ever; little did those who laughed loudly, so lengthy, and so heartily But oh! what a moment fot;. me ! _ _ With the lightness of air she vauhed-to j low townsman, but will recognize him the saddle: a crack from the master’s! in this sketch of a ride with G. \V. fcen- whip, and round went the noble steed j dal!. Jack was well known in this land like lightning, round the arena so swift-! bf his nativity, and his humorous and ly that it seemed as if it were not! dare-devil qualities would make a Gil- half so long; and then bow they applaud ed! My eyes followed her as she went, my heart knocked against my bosom at each beat and when she stopped for rest I could not speak. It was well for me that they saw it not; they were waving handkerchiefs and sending flow ers to her from every portion of the au dience. • < . :V • It was a triumph. I was wild pin ride of this kind rather a dangerous experiment to one who had so short an n<*tjuainlance with him, especially if Jack (as he appears to have been,) was in the humor for a frolic.—Mobile Ad- [From the New Orleans Crescent] Kendall's Ride with lick Ererltt Eds. of Crescent: Dili you ever hear of George W. Kendall’s ride with Jack the middle of the street, and exclaiming, I told you he was u damned good horse !” Kendall was afterwards heard to de clare that the happiest- moment of his life was that When he found himself off* the old grey and perfectly sound- Ho was never known to ride with Jack Ev- eritt again. C. C. Corpus Christi, Oct 2,1848 frantic wilh joy, feananu weakness1- j Ever f u? It occurred in Catnargn short- S weedy, and with grace, she waved |, afler , he bat ., e of Monterey. Jack her uny arms and hands, as the fnan.ing 1 as wellknown along our Southern steed walked slowly around to let her, fronlier as GoK Jack Ha % hira5elf . He breathe: and gtve her rest. particular friend of Col. Kinney's. • 08 .gain perform,ng morertl.fBcult ^ oantIer of Corp„ S Chris,i, and had feats than before, but with the same! • . ease and grace. One could not have i ^"mpamed the latter ,n some, o! the told, have looked on, that she had not i < ' es P. erat0 f ° ra y* U P°" *e Ind.ans and , . . c . ,' Mexicans made by him during the ear- done the same thing lor months and),. • r ,. , , , c _ b a . , her stages othis settlement at that place, months before, so easy, no effort socool- ft had hearJ a deal J Jack ly no embarrassment; it was through-; Eyf riUi W[] from Mc g u | lod ,. 3 Ranger3 f 6 a * a,,, L , , . anil Col. Kinney, and had frequently “But no—she must come before i • i . u- j . , T i j l . • t i i expressed a wish to see him ar J them, and 1 led her out again. I need| ‘ • , , • r, not tell you how they shouted, what they j ^'he Col™eUaw JaekTome galloping wnh Te r;;, 1 1,c— S o, h eb T ht . .u* i t . i i .i . dall s quarters and introduced him.-*- no th.nk I told the troth. George was delighted wilh the apnear- ••And now, one more appearance and : ance J ;, f Jack a „3 9aid tha , he JJ fre . the la^ that ntght. On she came, borne , heard of him, and was glad to by the best per,ormer to the arena, the ^ f he a intanc ; olv , ne so r | nown . favorite ofthe place ; w„h what grace j , f his 0 r gal i an , ry a[H ] , ki ||. and easfi no hmd her nn on hitrh. hoiv i - . . . . ° . .„r . .. think the heart of him wbo caused and ease he held her up on high, how j T , .i j. ii.. i .u l^L..! ....... — .n JacK. them so to do, was sadly beating while he sung the merry song, or danced and capered, telling his curious jokes, and laughing out so loud himself, ah no.— At length nature could support it no longer. I grew sick, and was scarcely able to go thro* with mjr performance; and the words of the manager recuired to me again, and there was no alterna tive, and I was torccd to briug her to the bouse. “ And that hour when first she slip ped therein I curse, ay! curse it from my heart! And here the poor maniac, after talk ing so rational, and for such a length of time, covered his face with his hands, and swayed bis body to and fro,. utter ed loud curses and cries. Upon this I feared the remainder of his story was lost, and waited long for his paroxysm to cease; by degress his voice subsided and he commenced again— “ She murmured not, she said that she was glad she could be earning something to assist me in my poverty, and she would try-her best to learn and please; poor child, poor Mary! “ Weeks—weeks; and many too we practiced. Every day for hours and she would not say she — 1 — lartly she looked, way up there, all tinsel and spangles, glittering-so finely _ "J 'and he like Hercules beside of her, urging the steed onward to its utmost powers. “ The most intrepid riders are car ried swiftest to enable them to sustain their • bhlance, and he was famous for the swiftness of his riding, it seemed as if his steed flew. No word came from my lips, though I was in the arena all the time. I was not thinking where I was or what I was doing; all that I thought of was my child. . “ High up. in the air he- threw her *> easily as iPtwas play, and she clappin her little hands, nor fear hall she. Hm they applauded! her triumph was complete. Each moment brought the perfor mance nearer to its close, and how I wished it thro*. But no, his steed fear ing the whip, trained to exerting nil his powers, when this rider was upon his back, kept on his lightning course, and, oh God ! intone unlucky feat he missed her. I saw her fall, the horse reared, and down came his heavy hoofs upon my Mary. “ I cannot tell yon wbat followed—I tired, no! saw them rise round on every side- and she learned, too,! there were cries, but I know that pier-1 behind. being about “half snapped,” grasped the proffered hand and ex claimed : George Kendall, eh? George Ken dall ofthe Picayune, eh? Well, I’ve heard of you and your paper often gh, and I’m d——d glad to see you —you look like a trump! What do you say, old fellow, let’s have a turn round? I know all about these parts, and show you something more than you think of. Will you come?” This was just what Kendall wished, and he at once acceded to Jack’s request; and the latter brought up his .horse, ah old grey, blind of one eye, but power fully built. “ There, do you see that horse ?” sftid Jack. He’s a damned good ho^se*— Kin hey gave him to me, and he knows what a horse he is. He’s not much to look at, but once get him agoing drill he’ll go throngh hell itselT, if you put him at it. Get on, Kendall, and Fll mount behind, and show you sights—I will, sure.” Kendall demurred to this arrange ment, arid said he would walk, if Jack would ride; but this Jack would not hear of, and after some slight argument, Kendall finally gave up the point, and mounted the old grey, while Jack got on Gen. Patterson was at that time Gov- sure arm of death should smite her down in all her purity and loveliness ? True she would die sometime as did her mother, as I must, must all of us, but should that moment be while I re mained on earth ? Oh, how I prayed to God to arrest death’s dart till I was in th6 skies. Yes will you believe it, the clown— mark me, the clown sprayed. The one who in fanciful attire, leaped and rode, joking and meriy in the ring—Ac, who wept by the side of his dear wife, pray ed beside the little cot of his sweet child —he prayed for her. “ And then'again another and more dreadful vision came to me! to which the thought of death was nothing; should she live, growing more lovely and beau*- tiful every hour—should she still con tinue the object bf ray entire thought and fall to sin !—oh', God! the thought was sickening, then bow I bowed down and prayed—then how I trembled for the fate of my child. London’s no place for a young, moth erless and beautiful girl; for temptation and every allurement to sin and vice existed upon each turn; and should she fall I Would that ere that moment I could see her a corpse before me ? “ Well, as I’d set and gaze anil muse on all this as my thick coming fancies passed before me, sometimes she would complaint, not rapidly. j cing shrieks drowned them, I saw hlood WI ,* WI 1WU wMatiuaiuutBw ■■Howl wotched her then! by her: upon my dear child’s face. I had er^V^Camargo.Tnd'i^" issued all day; all night and not a moment sprang to her ere the horse has hardly order lhalno ® on shou , d ride llir0L ,„ h could my eyes be from her. After hours ! moved, ahd seized her from beneath lh , aza f asler , ha n a walk, and the on.l oft., n.nw o rwl nl ■ tml ch*> him. nnH nil rnnnppipil wilh tho nlano . . .... and hours of training and of* toil, was prepared lor the debut. The day preceding the night was sad jough for me. \Ve went together to her mother’s grave and sat an hour or two; I told her that she was soon to come before the world, that she would be surrounded by sin misery, and temp tation, but ever to treasure the memory rif that mother dead, who when living free from taint and peerless as the driven snow. She was so young, that she could not understand me fully, but said, sweet child, that she should go to Heaven to meet her there, and if she would she must be good, to do so. “ The night arrived—portentous night; anil withd beating heart I puton my customary habiliments. Mary was to appear in two performances, the first lime alone, the second; in conjunction with the best performer in the arena— and sweetly aid she look when all at tired for her first appearance* Never had she looked *so beautiful with her little spangled frock and tights, so like a svlph, so pure, so innocent. Again id again I kissed < her and hade her him, and all connected wilh the place , posleJ around said , a ru>hed to my side. ordered to stop all persons who should But she, the beautiful,* she my idol, attempt to exceed trie prescribed gait, life and hope, a moment before so full | Kendall was aware of this ordor, and ofjoy.Ihad clasped unto my heart a i when he took, the reins of the old grey corpse ! horse had no apprehensions of his run- “ All, she was dead! dead like her hing away from him. But Jack who mother Mary, dead like everything was behind him, Wore a pair of large to me that should be full of life ! anil I Mexican spurs, and wishing to show lived! the running capabilities of bis horse to I know no more,” said the poor! Kendall, he clapped the spurs into his Thrilling incident at the MCnngcrie. On Thursday of last week, during the heavy wind and raih* while the exten sive collection of wild beasts in the me nagerie of Messrs. Raymond & Waring were in the village of Norwalk, a fea- * ture was introduced in the exhibition not previously announced in the bills. About four in the afternoon a violent gust of wind blew down the canvass which forms the large pavilion, com pletely enveloping the spectators and ages of animals in one mass of confu- ion. The accident happened at tho imewhen Miss Adelina, the Lion Queen s she is styled, was performing in the ■ den of wild beasts, and as the fright of imals rendered them seemingly con_ uncontrolable,great fears were enterlain- soon ec j f or the safety of that imerestingyoung lady. At this moment a scene of inde scribable terror and confusion present ed itself. The roaring of the terrified beasts, the screams of women and chil dren, and the “ peltings of the pitiless storm” without, rendered the scene tru ly appalling. The panic however wa9 but momentary, as the prompt and en ergetic measures taken by the mana gers soon cleared the wreck, no person having received the slightest injury. But the most intensely interesting in cident remains to be told. The uproar among the lions, tigers and leopards in theiperforming cage, gave rise to a re port that they were devouring Miss Ad elina* In the next instant the canvass was stripped from the cage, when a tab- lenu presented itself, such as would defy either poet, painter or sculptor to portray wilh accuracy. In the centre of the den a young and bcautiiuL lion, (the same recently presented to Gen. Cass by the Emperor of Morocco,) in rampant position, formed the strong fea ture of the picture; beneath one of his hind feel lay stretched the dead body of a leopard, and struggling within the invincible grasp of his fore-paws were the tigers and surviving leopard. In I he opposite end of the cage, transfixed as a statute of marblo, with dauntless eye and majestic attitude, the same as when she commands the wild beasts to crouch at her feet, stood the Lion Queen, Miss Adelina. The young lady states that the two leopards and the tiger made a simultaneous spring for her at the moment the canvass was blown down, and were repulsed by the noble gallantry of the lion, who bounded be tween them, and protected her in the manner described. Tho presence of Mr. Pierce soon reduced the savage group to subjection, and the Lion Queen was happily relieved from a farther par ticipation in this extra performance. sides, and off went the old grey at a tremendous pace, straight for the plaza. Kendall tugged and pulled at the rein, but in vain ; the old fellow had got the hit in his mouth and the spurs in his sides, and there was no such thing &s stopping him. “ Jack, for God’s sake help me to stop him!” shouted Kendall, turning his head round, and casting an appealinj shut out the’hright light, and’ will not look at Jack, who was digging his spur let me listerffb the songs bfbirdsjor ioto the horse’s sides. “Help met smeil the fragrance of the flowers ; they pull him up, won’t you ?” chain me down, ay f 'load me with ! Jack was a little deaf, as well a double manacles as these—when they! drunk, and thinking that Kendall wa have barred the doors, ay r they can-! praising the horse, only answered, “ He’ not close them to my Mary, I see j a damned good horse !” her now, with the red blood streiitnlngj “ Yes, but he’s going right for the lace—don’t Idl me see it!; plaza,” said Kendall, in a feverish state away—away !** And with a tear of 1 of excitement. “Help me to stop him, ’ * ' * * • ' * • ’ both of maniac, as he wiped his dry eyes there had been enough . to dash away. “ I could have wept once, but now my eyes are.dry, my eyes are dry, and'I’ve no tears so shed. Men tell me that she lay3 beside her mother’s grave, and that for many, hours ihev could not separ ate us, bull remeriiher nothing ofit, and am sure it was not so. But they brought me here to this dark place, and fear riot. “ The boose, long before the adver-1 down her pale U tised time for the raising of the curtain I away—away!” . . . was densely filled—filled with people, re al pity, after obtaining the location of [or the sentry may shoot wake; at first she was surprised to find j waiting the announcement of the first] the graves, I turned from hirq and the ; us.” there in tears, ami sought to know appearance in public ot (he daughter of ; massive doors were again closed and j ' M Kinney gi • - — 1 | iaC | j on g been underlined, and I barred upon the Maniac Clown. had been heralded forth in glowing ] - words for several days. Yes, men came the cause; and then she would «ay, * Dear father, do go to rest, for you afe pale; yes, do go, father, for your own little Mary asks you; then I’d kiss and him to me,*’ muttered jJack, still under the impression that j George was admiring the horse’s pace. By ibis time they had reached the words for several days. les, mencame | rf j a. . t._ -• t> • t. • By this time they hail reached trie - - to look upon one whom poverty had \ n \ , I* ! P^ a2a » ant * t ^ e sentry’s bright musket, bid her good Bight jrohtatber pleasant I compelled to appear, whom want had | ^ ». h “ £boani ! 8 leami ”S in «•» moon's rays, met Ken- dreams, and leave her till I thought sheijroye jYnnj bbr peaceful home, and lrt ,u e American frieate St Lawrence in s e ^ e * ,, j when on moving down to the quay to was asleep again, and then go softly I lau h at lbe j es ts of her sad hearted j jLite ofmlhhwwn .moils’ of! " J 3 "*- 1 sa ?' Jack - catch h " W ' satisfy himself on the subject bv creeping back till morning. | r ath E e , J at St«?Cand ! "P"’ wiU '“I*. - 1 ca .“ H J , ° , .‘!! <" I* b» MO The unfortunate Cypher. The following capital story is from Le Follet, a French publication 1 A merchant at Marseilles, having a business correspondent on the African coast, bethought him, that as some mem bers of his family had shown a partiali ty for monkeys, he might gratify them by sending for one or two specimens of these animals from Africa. According ly, be wrote to his correspondent to procure two or three of the finest arid most admired species, and transmit them to Marseilles. Chance so ordered it that in putting down the on (in Eng lish or) between the figures 2 and 3, he made the o very prominent, while the it remained scarcely visible. Some months afterwards a ship porter came in all haste to the old merchant, and announc ed to him that hts menagerie had ar rived. “ Menagerie!’’ cried the mer chant* “Yes, a menagerie, a whole cargo of monkeys had arrived to his consignment.” The merchant could scarcely credit the announcement, un til the letter of his correspondenl was put into his bands. In that epistle the negotiant, a man of the most uncompro- • mising exactitude, excused himself very* earnestly for not having been able, with all his exertions, to procure more than 100 monkeys, in place of the 203 order ed, but promised, as soon as possible; to fulfil the entire demand. Thj feelings of the honest merchant may be guessed when < Each day, each moment, found me I growing weaker and weaker. And as' she grew more and more fair and beau tiful the more and more I failed in strength and everything—everything bnt love for hen*—no abatement could there be in that while the life blood cours ed through my veins. Sometimes I took her to her moth er’s grave where she was always sure to bring some sitqple flower,and I would tell her of the one who laid beneath, so good, so gentle and so kind,' telling her she most try and. be like her; and then she’d ask ine many artless ques- 1G0‘rrion- she loved me as well as did she, and when she spelt the only word upon the bead-stone, simply .* Mary / she said cbecc: 5W sometimes wbeu my heart • Why that is my name too \ And they would not look in vam,] e _ ?- e a . ar |* oo J^officers/ This’ofler ! WtD ’ an( * lh ®„ scnlr ^, wil * firC * b y ® ,,< * ! \ keys, all duly caged and littered, and thf> mnitamr. <11 flick With . ® l . . *.'• Hein me. will VOU ? * I nnnn!nr« nr Vi^rV. ttrilli iLo UiuloLla foza, relteml the manager .truck with’ i course made me accept. It is not often ^ managers applaud their hirelings.-- 0 1 Congressional Reports.—We feafnibat “ Tier, above tier they rose-fand When*; Mr* Dyer, the Phonograph er. ig organ*. . _ _ as the .curtain ro.*e on high, and With a ; ising-a corps to 1 make verbatim reports J the plaza, and was out of sight before shriek and merry “ Here I am,” I jump* of the debates iir Congress. TOf^are-j the sentry bad time tri cock -his musket. some novel features in iris platr worthy‘Kendall now determined to stop the of notice. There will be in the corps I horse at all hazards, and seeing a large several printers, well skilled in Phonog- pile of adobes (sunburnt brick) lying in rapby, Who will set up the tvpe* direct- [ the midle of the, street, he put tho old U from the reporter's notes. Of the j grey’s head in t h at direction; and ran feasibility of doing tins, we fraVehWon^ihim directly into the centre ofthe heap, testible evidence in theTact that a young! AWay flew Kendall and Jackin one compositor in our office has lately set f direction, and away' went the old grey up several articles for birr paper from yin another. Fortunately, no bones were phonographic manuscript of a friend,] broken,-and-rising and shaking himself, i without roistaIp^-Pennsylrairuine ?George turned to look for his compan- ecl into the ring,^bite deafening plaudits made all echo agairi. “ I know not how I acted, what 1 said/ from time totimel heard them shoot; but my thoughts were upon my child, and when the moment came to appear, am! tions, if she was in heaven then ; and if iled her hy her little hand to make her bow, feelings of pride mingled with my sadness; for it was Mary my child, for whom they shouted, unto whom they rose f oo whom every eye was turned. Help me, will you ?” ^ j grinning at him wilh the most laudable “ Ob,” says Jack, •' be hadn’t got to • pertinacity. It was the moment when a the top of his speed yet. He’s a damn-1 man might reasonbly doubt whether it ed good horse, I tell you! ’ j would be best to laugh or cry. So much Pig went the spurs into the horse s for lhe valtte of cyphers” l sides, and away flew the old grey across — .. .. Questions for. the Longest Dayiri. If 20 grains make a scruple. bo,w many will make adonbt. -'./cm: 1. If 7 days make one week, how many will make one strong. 9 : 3. If 6$yards, make a pole. how ma ny will make! a T«r£ ? • , 4. If 3 miles make a league* how many will make b confederacy 9 fi.'lf one pine tree oan; make-pitch, how: many will make a pitcher ?. ; x - 6. If one twinge of pain ; will make 2m ache, how many will make an actc9