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A TIGHT PLACE; Or, The Man that knew ’em All. BY FALCoNBRIDC.K. If you have ever “been around” some, and taken notice of things, you have doubtless seen the man who knows pretty much everything and everybody! I’ve seen them, frequently. As the old preach er observed to a venerable lady, in reference to forerunners , “I see ’em now.” Welt, talking of that rare and curious specimen of the human family, the man that knows everybody, I've rath or an amusing reminiscence of “one of ’em.” Stopping overnight, at the Virginia House, in that jumping off place of Western Virginia, Wheeling, some years ago, I had the pleasure or pastime of meeting no few of the big guns of the nation, on their way from Washington City home. It was in August, I think, when, as is most gen •rally the case, the Ohio river gets monstrous low and feeble ; when all of the large, steamers are past getting up so far, and travelling down the river becomes quite amusing to amateurs, and particularly tedious and monotonous to business people, bound home. Three hundred travellers more or less, were laying back at the “Virginia” and “United States,” in the aforesaid hardscrab ble of a city, or town, waiting for the river to get up, or some means for them to get down. The session of Congress had closed at Wash ington, some time before, and as almost all of the M. C.’s, U. S. S.’s, wire pullers, hangers on, blacklegs, hore jockeys, etc., etc., came over “the National Road” to Wheeling, to take the riv. • r for Southern and Western destinations, of course the assemblage at that place, at that time was promiscuous, and quite interesting; at least, Western and Southern men always make them selves happy and interesting, home or abroad, and peculiarly so when travelling. It was a glorious thing for the proprietors ofthe hotels, to have such a host of guests, as a house full of company always is a “host,” the guests having nothing else to do but lay back, eat, drink, and be merry, and foot the hills when read, or when opportunity offers, tr go. I hey drank and smoked, and drank again, and told jests, and played games and tricks, and thus passed the time along. Among the multitude was one of those ever talkative and chanting men of the world, who knew all places and aft men—as he would have it. Just after removing the cloth, at dinner, a knot ofthe old jokes, bach” analians and wits, settled away in a cluster, at the far end of a long table, and were having a very pleasant time. The man of all talk was there; he was the very juiclcirs of all that was being said or done. He was from below, some where, on his way, as he informed the crowd, to Washington City, upon affairs of no slight im portance to himself and the. country in general. “Oho!” says one of the paity, a sly, winking, fat and rosy gentleman, whom we shall desig nate hereafter, “you’re bound to the capital, ehF” “Yes, sir,” responded the man of all talk. “Os course you’ve been there before !” says the interrogator, nudging a friend, and winking at the rest. “ What ? Me been in Washington before ? Ha, ha ! me been there before ! Bless you, me been in Washington city !” “Oho ! ah, ha !” says the interrogator ; “you’re one ol the caucus folks, eh ? One of them wire pullers we read about, eh ?” “-Mir/ Caucus? Ha, ha! Mum’s the word, gents, (looking kiilingly cunning). Come, gen tlemen, let’s fill up. Ha, ha! me pulling the--- ha, ha! Well, here’s to the old Constitution : let’s hang by her, while there’s a—a—a button •n Jabe’s coat.” And they all responded, of course, to this elo quent sentiment. “Here’s to Jabe’s buttons, coat, hat, and breeches.” “Excuse me,” continued the first operator, af l#r the toast was wet down, “you’ll please ex cuse me, in behalf of some of my friends here ; as you’ve been down in that dratted place, and must know a good deal of the goings-on there, I’d like to inquire about a few things we West ern folks don’t more than get an inkling of, through the papers.” “Certainly; go on, sir,” says the victim, assum ing all the dignity and depth of a man that’s ap pealed to to settle a ponderous matter. “I’d like to inquire if those Kitchen Cabinet disclosures of the Pennsylvania Senator, were true. Had you ever any means of satisfying yourself that there is, or was, a real service of gold in the President’s house ?” “Aye ! that’s what we’d all like to know,” gays another. “How many pieces were there ?” “What were they?” “Aye, and what their heft was?” “Mum, gentlemen, let’s drink— no tales out of •chool, ha, ha ! No, no—mum’s the word.” And looking funny and deep, merry and wise, all at one and the same time, the man of all talk pro. posed to drink and mum. But they wouldn’t drink, and insisted on the •ecret being let out—they wanted a decided and positive answer, from a man who knew the ropes. “Gentlemen, said the victim, dropping his *oiee into a sort of melo-dramatic stage whisper, and stooping quite over the table, so as to collect the several heads and ears as close into a pha lanx as possible : “gentlemen, it's a fact!” “What ?” says the party. “All gold !” says the victim. “A gold service ?” inquires the party. “ Thirty-eight pieces /” continued the victim. “Solid gold ?” chimed the rest. “Just half a ton in heft /” “You don’t tell us that /” “Know it; eat out of ’em, then weighed ‘em Mr “P-h-e-w!” whistled som<T, while others went into stronger exclamations. “Fact, by the great ” “Oh, it s all right, sir; no doubt of it now, sir,” naid the mover ot the lousiness, grasping the vic tim’s iiprarsed arm. “Thera, of course, sir, you’re well acquainted with Matr? Van; on good terms with the little Magician,” continued the leading wa*. “Me? me on good terms with .Matty ? Ha, ha! ; that r a good joke; never go-to Washington withont cracking a bottle with the little fox.'and staying over night with him. Me on good terms with Matty ? We re had many a spree together ! Yes, sir!” and tho knowing one winked right i and left. “Well, there’s old Bullion/’ continued one of the interrogators, a fine portly old gent, “you ! know him, of course ?” ! “What, Tom Benton ? Bless your souls, I j don’t know my letters half as well as I know old Tom.” “And Bill Allen, of Ohio ?” asked another. “What sort of a fellow is Bill ?” “Bill Allen ? Lord, O ! isn’t he a coon ? Bill Allen ? I wish I had a dime for every horn, and game of bluff, we’ve had together.” “Well, there’s another of ’em,” inquiringly a*ked a fat, farmer-looking old codger: “Dr. Duncan, how’s he stand down there about Washington ?” | “Oh, well, he’s a pretty good sort of an old ! chap, but, gents, between you and I, (with an other whisper,) there is a good deal of the ‘old fogie’ senna and salts about him. But then he’s death and the pale hoss on poker.” “W hat, Doctor Duncan ?” says they. “W hy y-e-e-s, of course. Didn’t he skin me out of my watch last winter, playing poker, at Willard’s?” “ “W ell, ’ continued the fat farmer-looking man, “I didn’t know Duncan gambled /” “Mum, not a word out of school; ha! ha! ! Let’s drink, gents. Gamble? Lord bless you, I it’s common as dish-water down there—l’ve played euchre for hours with old Tom Benton, Harry Clay and Gen. Scott, right behind the speaker’s chair /” Then they all drank, of course, and some of ihe party liked to have choked. The company now proposed to adjourn to the smoking room, and they arose and left the table accordingly. The man of all talk promenaded out on to the I steps, and in course of half an hour, says the leading spirit of the late dinner, or wine party, to him : “Mr. —a —a —?” “Ferguson, sir ; George Adolphus Ferguson is iny address, sir,” responded the victim. “Mr. Ferguson, did you know that your friend Benton was in town 7” inquired the wag. “M hat, Tom Benton here?” ; “And Allen,” continued the wag. “What, Bill Allen, too?” says the victim. “And Doctor Duncan.” “Youdon’t tell me all them fellows are here ?” “Aes, sir, your friends are all here. Come I in and see them, your friends will be delighted,” says the wag, taking Mr. Ferguson by the arm, to lead him in. “Ha, ha ! I’m a—l’m—a—ha, ha ! won't we have a time ! But you just step in—l a— I’ll be in in one moment,” but in less than half that time, Mr. Ferguson mizzled, no one knew whither! ‘I he gentlemen at the table, it is almost need less to say, were no others than Benton, Allen, Dunean,and some three or four other arbiters I of the fate of our immense and glorious nation, in her councils, and fresh from the capital. Ferguson has been heard of since. [American Sentinel. Ilaaes iu the Desert. The accustomed route is marked by a white line of bleached bones extending to the horizon. This extraordinary circumstance, it may well be supposed, aroused all iny attention. I called to Bechara, who’, however, did riot wait for my question, for he at once read my desire in my obvious astonishment. “The dromedary,” said lie, coming to my side, and com mencing bis story, without preface, “is not so trou blesome and importunate an animal as a horse. He continues bis course without stopping, without eating, without drinking ; nothing about him betrays sick ness, hunger, or exhaustion. The Arab, who can hear from such a distance the roar of a lion, the neigh of a j horse or the noise of men, hears nothing from his j hnghin, but its quickened or lengthened respiration, it never utters a complaint or a groan. But when I nature is vanquished by suffering, when privations j have exhausted its strength, when life is ebbimr, tl,e dromedary kneels down, stretches out its neclT, and ‘ closes its eyes. Its master then knows that all is i over. He dismounts, and without an attempt to i make it rise—for he knows tlie honesty of its nature. ! and never suspects it of deception or laziness he 1 removes the saddle, places it on the back of another j dromedary, and departs, abandoning the one that is | no longer able to accompany him. When night ap- ■ proaches, the jackals and hyenas, attracted"by the scent, come up and attack the poor animal till noth ing is left but the skeleton. We are now on the highway from Cairo to Mecca ; twice a year the car avans go and return by this route, and these bones, so numerous and so constantly replenished, that the tempest of the desert can never entirely disperse them ; these bones, which, without a guide, would lead you to the oases, the wells and fountains, where the Arab finds shade and water, and would end by con ducting you to the tomb of the Prophet; these bones are those of dromedaries which perish in the desert. If you look attentively, you will see some bones sim ilar in size, and of a different conformation. These, too, are the wrecks of wearied bodies, that have found I repose b?fore they reached the goal. They ! are the bones of believers who desire to obey lhe j Prophet’s command, that all the faithful shall once in I their lives perform this holy journey, and who having I been too long deterred from jjidertaking it by cares or pleaures, commence thejr anlkujmatTe so late on earth, that they are it in heaven. Add to these some stiipuL'lkirkV- bloated eunuch, who, sleeping when he oulhtito ldWe his eyes open, has fallen and broken his neck ; plague its’ i share, which often decimates a caravan, ams the si moom, which often destroys one, and you will readily see that these funeral guide-posts are planted with sufficient frequency to preserve the road i:i good or der, and to point out to the children the route pursued by their fathers.” —Alexander Dumas. Statistics of thf. Jews.— An official publication informs us that there are hardly more than from 4,000,000 to 5.000,000 Jews in the whole world ; whereas Buddhism numbers 400,000,000 adepts ; Brahmism 200,000,000 ; Christianity 230,000.000 to 250,000 ; Mahoinetanisn from 130,000,000 to 150- GOO,OOO ; and Fethism, (or pure idolatry,) from 80 - 000,000 to 100,000,000. The 5,000,000 Jews are thus distributed : There are some 500,000 in Syria and Asiatic Turkey; 250,000 in European Turkey; 000,000 in Morocco and North Africa; 50,000 to 80,000 in Eastern Asia; 100,000 in America; and about 200,000 in Europe, viz.: 13,000 in England; 1,594 in Belgium; 850 in Sweden and Norway; 6,000 in Denmark; 70,000 in France; 52,000 in the Low Countries; 1,120,000 ir. Russia, (more than one fifth of the entire race ;) 631,000 in Austria and its dependencies; 214,431 in Prussia ; 175,000 in the German States; and 4,000 in Italy. Composure UNDER Guilt.— The friends of Dr. Webster urge that lie could not have exhibited the composure he did after the crime of murder had been committed, if he had been guilty of it, as it is known that fie sat down on the same night and deliberately played chess. This is not a certain test of inno- ■ ceni e, as it is recorded of the Countess of Somerset j that she danced a measure with a nobleman just after she had committed murder, and that she was all gayetv and frolick, although she had just done a deed I which, when it was discovered, filled mankind with j horror. She and her husband were put on their ! trial for the murder of Sir Thomas Overvbury. The ■ Earl was convicted ; the Countess plead guilty. i What Jenny Lind is to Get. — We copied an ar ticle from the European Times, stating what were some of tite conditions on which Jenny Lind was to ! co ue to this country, but nothing was said of the amount of money she was to receive. The Liver pool Mercury says, “Mr. Barnum’s agent was author ized to otler §250,000 for one hundred and fifty nights, and if that were not sufficient, he was em powered to add an additional §125,000, making alto gether upwards of £BB,OOO, or more than £SOO (,5"2j500) .or each of the one hundred and fifty times she is to sing. She has accepted these terms ; and i it is said that £30,000 are to be placed in the hands of ‘ Baring, Brothers and Cos. before “the Swedish Night ingale” starts from England. n ; O’“Society is infinitely too tolerant of the roue— the wretch whose life-long pleasure it has been to i debase himself and to debauch others; whose heart has been spotted with infamy so much, that it is no i longer spotted, but hell-black all over; and who at least deserves to be treated as travellers say the wild i horses of the prairies treat a vicious fellow—the no- i blest of the herd forming a compact circle around i him, heads outward, and kicking him to death.” g 0 says Horace Mann. \ \ § © HOT 50 iE sa S I DffiTT 0 ffiO 1!L □ A Fable. In ancient times, when flowers, and trees, j and fairies were on speaking terms, and all friendly toge'her, one fine summer’s day, the sun shone out on a beautiful garden, where there were all sorts of flowers that ye could mention, and a lovely but giddy Fairy went sporting about from one to the other, (although no one could see her, because of the sunlight,) as gay as the morning lark ; then says the Fairy to the Rose—“ Rose, if the sun was cloud ed, and the storm came on, would ye shelter and love me still “Do you doubt me say# the Rose, and reddened up with anger. “Lily,” says the Fairy to another love, “if the sun was j cloudy and a storm came on,would ye shelter and love me still ?” “Do you think 1 could change?” j says the Lily, and she grew still paler with sor row. “Tulip,” said the Fairy, “if the sun was clouded, and a storm came on, would ye she!- ter and love me still ?” “Upon my word,” said the Tulip, making a very gentlemanlike bow, “ye re the very first ladv that ever doubted my constancy.” So the Faity sported on, joyful to think of her kind and blooming friends. She revelled away for a time, and then she thought on the pale blue Violet that was almost covet ed with its broad green leaves ; and although it was an old comrade, she might have forgot, ten it, had it not been for the sweet scent that came up from the modest flower. “Oh, Violet,” said the Fairy, “if the sun was clouded, and a storm came on, would ye shelter and love me still ! ’ And the violet made answer—“Y r e have known me long, sweet Fairy, and in the first spring-time, when there were but few other flowers, ye used to shield from the cold blast under my leaves ; now ye’ve almost forgotten me—but let it pass—try my truth it ever you should meet with misfortune, but I say nothing.” Well, the Fairy skilled at that, and clapped her silvery wings, and whisked singing off on a sunbeam ; but she was hardly gone, when a black cloud grew up at the north, all in a min- j ute, and the light was shrouded, and the rain fell ! in slashings like hail, and away flies the Fairy j to her triend the Rose. “Now, Rose,” says she, j “the rain is come, so shelter and love me still.” j “I can hardly shelter my own buds,” said the 1 Rose; “but the Lily has a deep cup.” Well, I the poor little Fairy’s wings were almost wet through, but she got to the Lily. “Lily,” says she, “the storm has come, so shelter and love me still.” “I am sorry,” says the Lily, “but if I were to open my cup, the rain would beat in like j fun, and my seed would be spoilt—the Tulip has long leaves.” Well, the Fairy was down hearted enough, but she went to the Tulip, who j she always thought a sweet-spoken gentleman. He certainly did not look as he had done in the sun, but she waved her little, wand, and, “Tulip,” j says she, “the rain and storm are come, and I am very weary, but you will shelter and love me still?” “Begone,” says the Tulip, “be off,”; says he ; “a pretty pickle I should be in, if I let every wandering trollop come about me.” Well, by this time she was very tired, and i her wings hung dripping at her back, wet in- j deed — but there was no help for it, and leaning on her silver wand, she limped off to the Violet"; : and the darling little flower, with its blue eye, • that s as clear as a kitten’s, saw her coming j and never a word she spoke, but opened her j broad green leaves, and took the wild wander- : ing little creature to her bosom, and dried her i wings, and then breathed the sweetest perfumes j over her, and sheltered her until the storm was i clean gone. Then the humble Violet spoke ; and said, “I*airy Queen, it is bad to flirt , with many, for the love of one true heart is j enough for earthly woman or fairy spirit ; the ! old love is better than the gay compliments of a world of flowers, for it will last when the others fade away.” j And the Fairy knew that it was true for the j bluoV iolet; and she contented herselfcver after, i and built her downy bower under the wide- i spreading A iolet leaves that sheltered her from j the rude winter’s wind, and the hot summer’s i sun, and to this very day the Fairies love the Vi- j olet beds. Fox and Pitt. Mr. Fox was totally unlike his great rival. Pitt was stately, taciturn, and of an austere temper. Fox was easy, social, and of a kindiy disposition. Pitt was tall and grave, and entering the House carefully’ j dressed, walked proudly to the head of the treasury bench, and took his seat as dignified and dumb as a statue. Fox was burly and jovial, entered the House in a slouched hat, and with a careless air, and, as he approached the opposition benches, had a nod for his learned city member, arid a joke for that wealthy knight of the shire, and sa-tsdmvn as much at ease as if he were lonngingwn parlor of a country inn. Pitt, as the could “speak a King’s speech offhand,” so were his sentences and his round smooth Dgriods dfcighted the aristocra cy of all parties. Fox made the lords of the Treas ury quail, as fie declaimed in piercing tones against the ministerial corruption, while his friends shout j ed “hear, hear !”and applauded till the House shook. Pitt’s sentences were pompous, and sonorous, and often “their sound revealed their hollowness.” Fox uttered sturdy Anglo Saxon sense—every word preg nant with meaning. Pitt was a thorough business man, and relied for success in debate upon careful preparation. Fox despised the drudgery of the office, and relied upon his intuitive perceptions and his ro bust strength. Pitt was the greater Secretary Fox the greater Commoner. Pitt’s oratory was \ ‘ike the frozen stalactites and pyramids which glitter j around Niagara in mid-winter—stately, clear and cold. Fox’s like the vehement waters Which sweep over its brink, and roar and boil in the abyss below. Pitt, in his great efforts, only erected himself the more proudly, and uttered more full in Johnsonian sentences, sprinkling his dignified but monotonous “state paper style,” with pungent sarcasm, speaking as one having commanding that Tt ! might stand fast. Fhx, off occasions, reasoned j from first principles, where he could not ‘ persuade, and reeling ttraeV hSgreat thoughts until ! his excited feeling rocFeiniinr&ke the ocean in a storm. j Pitt displayed the most rhetoric, and his mellow ! voice charmed like the notps of an organ. Fox dis j played the most argument, and his shrill notes pierc jed like arrows. Pitt had an icy taste, Fox a j fiery logic. Pitt had art ; Fox nature. Pitt j was dignified, cool, cautious. Fox was manly’, gen : erons and brave. Pitt had a tninJ, Fox a soul. ■ Pitt was a majestic automaton, Fox a living man. Pitt was a minister of the King, Fox a champion of the people. Both were early advocates of parliamen tary reform, but Pitt retreated while Fox advanced ; and both joined in denouncing and abolishing the horrors of the middle passage. Both died in the same year, and they sleep side by side in Westmin ster Abbey, their dust mingling with that of their mu tual friend, Wilberforce; while over their tomb watches with eagle eye and extended arm, the moul ded form of Chatham.—Stanton’s Reforms and Re formers of England. One of the Boys.—“l wish I was a ghost, blamed j if I don’t,” said a poor covey the other night, as he sat; soliloquizing in the cold. “They goes wherever they I pleases, toll free ; they don’t owe nobody nothing, and that’s a comfort. Who ever hearn tell of a man what had a bill agin a ghost ? Nobody. They nev- \ er has to buy hats and vittals and liquor, nor has to saw wood and run arrants, as I do. Their shirts nev- ! er get dirty, nor their trowsers out at the knees, as ! I ever heard tel! on. Ghosts is the only independent people I knew on. I really wish I was one.” I Mr. Hannegax.—We noticed, the other day, a scandalous article, originating in a Boston paper, in relation to the habits of Mr. Hannegan,our late Min ister to Berlin, when abroad. The New York Globe has the following in reference to the subject : W e perceive that our Minister to Berlin, Hon. Ed ward A. Hannegan, has returned in the Europa ; and a personal friend of ours, who knew him intimately abroad, authorizes us to say that the letter defamato ry of Mr. Hannegan, published in the whig papers of Boston, and copied elsewhere, makes nothing but statements utterly without foundation. Mr. Hanne gan never tasted a drop of ardent spirits during his : whole residence in Europe, and his conduct was of the most amiable and exampiary character under all : circumstances. The stories, therefore, of the letter writer in question, are most cruel, as well as unjust, and were no doubt the manufacture of some person al ill feeling and malignity. We trust that the jour ! nals which gave unintentional circulation to these malicious charges against Mr Hannegan, will copy this correction. The Lawrence (Massachusetts) Murder. j | The Boston Mail gives the following particu- 1 ; lars of the atrocious murder recently perpetrated ! in the town of Lawrence, Massachusetts. The ! annals of crime do not furnish accounts of any more horrid murders than the two recently com mitted in this law-abiding commonwealth : The bandages upon the face of the deceased were discovered to consist of four thicknesses of cotton cloth, with cotton wadding underneath, the latter forced into the mouth and nostrils, and the whole fastened with a strong cord tied round | her neck, sufficient to produce strangulation in- j stantly. So tightly, indeed, was the cord drawn j that it was almost buried in the flesh back of the neck, and exhibited deep indentations in the I cotton and batting, with which the unhappy girl was strangled. Some faint scratches appeared upon the face, and the forehead exhibited marks |of blows, but the skull was not fractured, as at first reported, and the examining physicians gave it as their opinion, that the wounds upon the head were not, alone, sufficient to cause I death. It was the supposition of the medical I gentlemen, that the blows were given to put an : end to her struggles, while the murderers were j j proceeding in their work of strangulation with j the cotton cloth. i A further examination of the body brought to light practices surpassing in inhuman barbarity, : if possible, what we have already detailed of this ! | heart-sickening and terrible tragedy. An at- ! tempt to produce abortion had b -n made, and the foetus, of about four or five months, had ap parently been dissected with a sharp instrument, | and parts of it taken away by piece-meal. The evidence before the coroner upon this point we | forbear to give. It is too horrible to contem plate. The investigations of the coroner continued from Monday until about 3 o’clock yesterday afternoon, when a verdict was rendered. It was shown that the deceased had been 1 intimate for something more than a year past i with a man keeping a stable in Lawrence, 1 named Darius ’Taylor ; that his intimacy first began in Lowell, the deceased being at the time ! ! a factory girl in that city. She subsequently , came to Lawrence and worked in the mills, but owing to her intimacy with Taylor, (to I whom it was reported she was about to be mar- ‘ riecl,) she neglected her duties and was dis-1 I charged. After passing some weeks in Boston j with her friends, deceased again made her ap pearance in Lawrence, and on the evening of the 21st of December last, she was seen to enter the house ot Dr. Moses P. Clark, since which it ; does nut appear that she has been seen alive. Among the witnesses called, was Taylor, the j lover ot the girl, who was examined at some I length. The witness made no attempt to deny ; •he intimacy which had existed between the de- j ceased and himself, and that he advised her to consult a physician. | After a lull and careful investigation, (lie jury j of inquest rendered the following verdict : “That | Catharine L. Adams came to her death be tween the 2ist December last past, and the sth i ot January following, (1850,) at the house of I Moses P. Clark, in Lawrence, by means of at* i tempts to procure abortion—followed by a blow |or blows on the head with some weapon or in- j j strument, and by suffocation by the application ! () f cotton cloth over the mouth, done by some ! person or persons to the jury unknown.” j Dr. Clara and his wile had been previously l ■ arrested, and after the rendition of the above! J verdict they were arraigned on the charge of j | murder before the police justice, and their ex | animation assigned for Tuesday next. (Kr w e confess that we like to meet with such evidences of our national standing, as are furnished by circumstances similar to those de tailed in the following extract from the Wash ington Union: Interesting Anecdote. Two young Americans, after completing their education in Europe, were travelling with the view of perfecting themselves in their classic | studies. Thus engaged, they were sojourning j for a short time in Vienna.’ One day, while | crossing one of the streets, an Austrian officer of high military rank, came dashing along at a fu rious rate on horseback. One of these Ameri cans apprehending that the horse would run against him, raised a small cane, with the view of turning the horse’s head; whereupon the j officer struck him with his whip. Upon ascer j taming the address of the officer, he demanded ! satisfaction of him ; which demand the officer j treated with contempt, ridiculing the idea of his | responding to an unknown American boy. In i this strait the two young gentlemen laid their l grievances before tbe American representative iat that court. Our charge immediately address ed the officer, and, after recapitulating the facts, informed him that he must either apologize or give the satisfaction required, and that, in the e\ent of his failing to do so, he would, over his own signature, as the representative of the American government, publish him in every leading paper on the continent as a poltroon. It is needless to add that this demand was immedi ately followed by an ample apology of the Aus trian officer. But it is proper to add that this government was then honored in the person of Mr. Stiles. Anecdote.—A man was angry with his wife, as was often the case, either because she talked’too much or contradicted him, or for some other reason ; in short, he was out of humor with her, and resolved’ not to speak to her for a long, long time. He kept his resolution for a few days very strictly. One evening he is lying in bed ‘and wishes to sleep ; he draws his nightcap over his ears, and his wife mav say what she will, he hears nothing of it. The wife then takes a candle, and carries it to every hole and corner; she removes stools and chairs, and tables, and looks carefully behind them. The’ husband sits up in bed, and gazes enquiringly at her movements; he thinks that the din must have an end at last. But he is mistaken. His wife keeps on looking and searching. The husband patience, and cries—“ What are yon looking r y° ur 5° n ? ue ’” s^e answers, “and now that I have found it, tell me why you are angrv ? ,f Hereupon they became good friende again. & ’ \ I O* When boots first came into fashion, a pair i were presented to a worthy mayor in some part of England. He examined them attentively, and con cluded that they were anew kind of basket. Accor dingly, when he went to church the next Sunday, lie ! slung one of them around his neck, and put his pray er book into it. His wife used the other to bring home her marketing in. Self Reliance. —The success of individuals in life is greatly owing to their early learning to de pend upon their own resources. Money, or the ex pectation of it by inheritance, has ruined more men than the want of it ever did. Teach young men to rely upon their own efforts, to be frugal and indus trious, and vou have furnished them with a produc ! tive capital which no man can ever wrest from them. i Early - Rising. —The Rev. Mr. Strachan, who used to rise every morning at five, said that he could ! not. by practice, convert the habit into a pleasant one. The honest divine would find few dissenters on this head. Eels may get used to being skinned ; but unless a man lias a natural gift for the exercise, he can never take delight in kicking off the bed j clothes of a cold morning, two hours before day light. i i j CT A correspondent of an English paper tells ; j this anecdote: On asking an American acquain-! j tance of mine the other day, why the damaged engine | of the steamer Niagara was not repaired before she left New York on her last trip, lie replied, “Why, don’t you know ? Because the engine repaired by the Yankees would have run away with the other !” ; Beauty - of Truth. —After all, the most natural beauty in the world is honesty and moral truth. For all beauty is truth. True features make the beauty of a face , and true proportions tiie beauty of architec- I ture ; as true measures that of harmony and music, j In poetry, which is all fable, truth still it the perfec- | tion. Mrs. James K. Polk. —This lady has, we learn, j since the death of her husband, almost entirely seclu ; ded herseit from society. She seems to lie inconsol- ! able in her grief. The huge pillars of the new 1 house into which they had just moved, when the | melancholy bereavement occurred, a are still draped j with black. It her husband had lived, she would ere 1 this have been traveling in Europe. But ‘-the ways ! of Providence are inscrutable, and she is now weeping j over wrecked hopes, and blighted prospects. Sure ly, there are not many hearts that will refuse her in this hour of grief their sympathy. Even her late hus band’s political enemies speak of her as being a most worthy and estimable woman. Hr To soften a man’s manners, there is nothing! like love. We care not how boorish a fellow may he. I gel him inflamed with calico, and in less than four ! weeks you will see him studying Byron and indulgino ; in ruffled shirts. Prediction Fulfilled.— The rumor of the death of Gen. Bern, now Murad Bey, recalls a paragraph circulated last year, that Bern hat! often declared his conviction that he should die in 1850—-that he had seen his own tomb in a vision, with the date 1850 en graved upon it. j 11-T It is estimated that one drunken man in every ninety is annually convicted of crime, while the av erage number of temperance men annually convict ed o! crime is one in lour thousand one hundred and sixty-four. O’ Never take a paper more than ten years with out paying the printer, or at least sending’ him a lock ot your hair to let him know that you are about. O Rousseau tells us that, to write a good love- ■ letter, yon ought to begin without knowing what i you mean to say, and to finish without knowing what ! you have said. (O ‘ I m taking down the census of a denselv ! | populated neighborhood,” as the fellow said when he ‘ was swallowing the skipperv cheese. N j i Tun Present Year. —A German newspaper has ! recently published a prophecy by a Benedictine monk, j | who died in 1847, the purport of which is that the f present year, 185 J, will be one of unusual prosperity. ! ‘ The different sects of christianiiy will in that year ac- ! ‘ cord. The Sultan will be poisoned, (Abdonl Medjil j had best take care,) ami his empire will become Chris- i < tian. Russia will suffer much from a warlike nation i of the east. A German Prince will found an cast- { ‘ ern empire. Grain, fruit, lentils and ot her vegeta- ! ’ hies will be so plentiful that the barns will be unable i ( to contain them. The disease of the potato will ev- j i ery where cease, and old men will not remember ! such a year of fruitfulness. The wine of this year! will surpass that of the year ol the comet. | Dirt: More Left. —The razor-strop man, holding I fort!) at the Agricultural State Fair, was thus add res” I sed by a young man, who thought himself remarkably j smart— “ You’re a fool!” “And there’s one more left of the same sort,” said i the strop man. O’The Huntsville Advocate says : “The hnsi- I ness on the Tennessee River, from Decatur to Kno.x ----j ville, has increased so much that the present stearn | boats engaged on it are altogether itnulfi dent ; 2 ; or 3 new boats, able to carry from 200 to 500 hales ! °J cotton, would find plenty of freight up and down. The Rail Road at Chattanooga has opened new pour | cesof business, and vastly increased old ones. The present boats above the shoals have more than thev can do.” J More United States.— The territory, not vet formed into states, it is said, will make forty-six and a half states as large as Pennsylvania. Os these thir ty-five will be north of 3G 30, or the slave state, sup posing the Missouri compromise line to be adopted. Emigration of the Florida Indians.—' The Tal lahassee Floridian of the 9th inst. gives the terms upon which the Florida Indians have agreed to emi grate, and says that it is believed that’the Indians will be out of the country by the last of May. The following ate the terms: “Each warrior is to receive (before he goes on board the boat) §SOO, each woman §IOO, each child §IOO. Bowlegs himself will receive about §IO.OOO. and two or three sub-chiefs, about §5,000 each They are to be provided with rations tor one year Alter they at rive in Arkansas, and to be guarantied in the possession of their negroes. It is estimated that the whole cost of the removal will be about §225,000.” Distress of Poor Men in California.— A let ter from San Francisco, Dec. 30, Iroin a gentleman formerly engaged in business in Philadelphia, says: “It is a mistaken notion (or poor men to come to this country. lam engineering on a small piece of wood, where about 80 bands are employed at half a dollar per hour for laboring, which is the lowest wa ges ever paid in California; and I can safely sev that within the last four or five day's, I have been compelled to refuse work to some eight or ten hun dred men. I am endeavoring to get some other work ot the same kind in operation, when I hope to give bread to many a hungry mou'h. Mo man can calculate upon the amount of distress here, unless situated as j have been for the last ten days. ’ I have men shoveling sand that perhaps never before had a shovel in their hands to work, viz., 2 doctors of med- ■ icine, 2 captains, 4 mates, 2 jewelers, 1 dentist, and about 18 to 20 men who have been brought up to the quill or behind the counter. Whoever comes lo i California must make up his mind todoanythinu.” Predictions. —He who has a high forehead | will have his eyes under it, and will live all the days of his life. _ He who has a long nose will have the more to blow, and the better to handle. He that is bald will be likely to have no hair; but if ho happens to have any, it will not be on the bald place. 4 Sentiment—A contemporary savs : “When we see a neat, pretty girl, with a free but innocent air with cheeks like roses and heavenly blue eyes, which seem to repose in serenity beneath their silken Jash es—we always wish she was near a mud-puddle , and we had to lift her over.” ‘ orne out here, and I’ll lick the whole on ye, as the bov said to the molasses candvinthel shop window, An Irish Will. Chailes Lever’s new story of Con. Cregan °Pens with a good joke which Con. tells at the expense of his father’s reputation for honesty. An old fellow named McCabe had two sons, who were always fighting between themselves who should have the old man’s money. Final ly Mat cleared out, and ’listed, leaving his brother Peter in possession of the field. The old man died, but refused to make a wlllj declaring that the property should bo fairly divided Le* tween the two sons. This did not suit Peter ; so as soon as the old man breathed his last, on ly Peter being bv, he remembered that Con; Cregan’s father looks very like the defunct.— Ofl he goes, calls up the elder Cregan, and offers him five gtdden guineas if he will person ate tho dead man long enough to make a will bequeathing all to Peter. Cregan yields, is put into the dead man’s bed, and shoes, tho lawyer called, and neighbors summoned. It is at night, and the room not well lighted. No.- body suspects the fraud, and Cregan proceed* to dictate the will: “Where’s Billy Scanlan? I want to fkd my will !” “He’s here, father!” said Peter, taking Billy by the hand and leading him to the bed side. “Write what I bid ye, Billy, and be quick ; j for I havn’t a long time afore me here, f j die a good Catholic, though Father O’llafforty j won’t give me the ‘rites !’ ” j A general chorus of muttered “Oh, niusha, | musha,” was now heard through the room ; but ; whether iu grief at the sad fate of the dying ; man, or the unflinching severity of the priest, | is hard to ay. | “I die in peace with all my neighbors, and 1 all mankind !’’ i Another chorus of t lie company seemed to approve these charitable expressions. “I bequeath unto my son, Peter—and never was there a better son, or a decenter boy !—. have you that down? I bequeath unto my son, Peter, the whole of my two farms of Killimtin i doonery and Knorksheboora, with the fallow ! meadows behind Lynch s house ; the forge and i the right of turf on the Dooran bog. I give him, and much good may it do him—Lanty Cassarn’s acre, and the Luary field, with the Lime.kiln ; and that reminds me. that my mouth is just as- dry; let me taste whatyo have in the jug.” Here the dying man took a hearty pull, and seemed considerably refreshed by it. “W here was I, Billy Scnnlan ?” says he ; “oh, I remember, at the lime-kiln ; 1 leave him—that’s Peter, I mean—the two potato gar dens at Noonan’s Well ; and sure it is the elo gaut fine crops grows there.” “Ain’t you gettiiT wake, father, darlin’?” says Peter, who began to be afraid of my father’* loquaciousness ; for, to say the truth, the punch got into his head, and lie was greatly disposed to talk. “I urn, Peter, my son.” says he ; “I am get* ting wake ; just touch my lips again with tho jug. Ah, Peter, Peter, you watered the drink !” “No, indeed, father! but it’s the taste i* leavin you, says Peter ; and again a low r cho. ms of compassionate pity murmured through the cabin. “Well, I’in nearly done now,” says my fath er ; “there s only one little plot of ground re maining ; and I put it on you, Peter—as yo wish to live a good man, and die with the same easy heart I do now—that ye mind my last words to ye here. Are ye listening ?” “Yes, sir. Yes. father. We’re all minding, ’ r chorused the audience. “Well, it s my lust will and testament, anrf may—give me over the jug”—here he took a long drink—“and may that blessed liquor bo poison to me, it lain not as eager about this as about every other part of my will ; I say, then, I bequeath the iittle plot at the cross-roads to poor Con. Cregan ; for he has a heavy charge, and is as honest and hard.working a man as ever I knew. Bea friend to him, Peter, dear; never let him want while ye have it yourself; think of me on my death-bed whenever he asks ye for any trifle. Is it down, Billy Scanlan ? the two acres at the cross to Con. Cregan, and his heirs, in scclu scclorum 1 Ah, blessed lie the Saints ! but I feel my heart lighter after that !” says he : “a good work makes an easy conscience : and now I'll drink all the com pany’s good health, and many happy re turns ” What he was going to add, there’s no say. iug ; but I eter, who was now terribly fright ened at the lively tone the sick man was as suming, hurried all the people away into anoth er room, to let his father die in peace. When they were ail gone, Peterslipped back: to my father, who was putting on his brogues in a corner: “Con.” said he, “ye did it well • but that was a joke about the two acres at the> cross.” “Os course it was, Peter!” says he ; “sure it was all a joke, for the matter of that ; won’t E make the neighbors laugh to-morrow, when I tell them about it !” “Sure, ye wouldn t be mean enough to go against ver father s iljing words!” says mv ‘father; “the last sentence ever he spoke;” and here he gave a low, wicked laugh, that made mvselfshake with fear. e, y Con. ! ’ says Peter, holding out his hand ; “a bargain’s a bargain ; ye’re a deep fellow, that s atl ! and so it ended ; and my father slipped quietly home over the bog might, ily well satisfied with the legacy he left him self. I Jj' OOD ANI) J RUE.-— Dr. Franklin remarks,, j 1 hat a man as often gets two dollars for the one he spends in informing his mind, as he does for a dollar he lays out in any other way. A. man eats up a pound of sugar (or some other ! tnfle ) an** is and the pleasure he enjoy i ed has ended ; but the information he gets from) a newspaper, is treasured to be enjoyed ane-wr and to be used whenever occasion or inclination calls for it. A newspaper is not the wisdom of one man or two men, it is the wisdom of the a"e and of past ages too A family without a news paper is always half an age behind the times in general information; besides, they can never think much, nor find much to talk about. And then there are little ones growing up in ignorance without any taste for reading. Who, then, would be without a newspaper?” Duel Between Ladies. — A duel lately occurred at Madrid between two young ladies. One was ultimately shut in tbe leg; and the combat ceased pro tem. Finally a reconciliation was effected bv the gallant eenor whose charms had evoked the app'e discord. - rr