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THE SOUTHERN SENTINEL IS PUBLISHED EVERY “THURSDAY MORNING, MY T. LOMAX & CO. TENNENT LOMAX, editor. Ofcp on Ranflo'ii)i sired. Citernnj Department. Coxouct :d ur CAROLINE LEE HENTZ. “\e Change in .tie.” Et.GGSSTKD BY A MOTTO ON A LETTER. All things of earth are doom’ l to fade, And some, like us, are born to die ; Yes, all tliat’a fair and bright was made To fade away from memory. But oil! should all prove false and change, And even than inconstant be— Should time the friends we love estrange, There’s one the same—no change in me. JVo change in me —l’m still the same, And still tire same I'll be forever— Though some may think I should not claim Thy love, and wish our hearts to sever ; In vain they tell me you’ll forget. And cold and heart betraying be ; But, time, whose course is onward yet. Will prove there is no change in me. JULIA. Quincy. Dec. ~th. fWRITTEN FOR THE SENTINEL.I TIIE SHAKER VILLAGE. Did you ever visit a Shaker village? If you have not, you have no conception of how j much neatness humanity is capable It is ; strange, indeed, bow living, eating, working, i walking beings can live and eat and work j and walk, without leaving some litter and dust behind them. But the streets of a Sha- ! ker village are as smooth and clean as a Southern waxed floor. No pebble ruffles 1 their white, level surface, and the glass on j the wayside is richer and more beautiful than 1 the finest Brussels. If you will come with me, 1 will introduce j yon to one—not only to the village, but to j its simple, peculiar and hospitable inhabi- • tants.* ‘die buildings are all of uniform size, and of uniform style of architecture. They are j painted white, with sky lights in the roofs,J situated at considerable distance from the j street, with but few shade trees in front. But every yard presents a bright expanse of liv- j ing green, which even the gossamer’s web is not allowed to silver. The house of wor ship stands in the centre of the village, with- i out dome or spire, a plain, white fabric, with two doors in front, corresponding to each other. Look at that snowy, dazzlingly white floor ! Who could believe that a shoe had ever been planted upon it? Yet every Sun- I day, clumsy, high-heeled shoes, with ini- | niense buckles, not only walk, but dance and shuffle with superhuman agility, on its spot less surface. Those who have never witnessed their pe- S culiar style of worship, can form no adequate I idea of it from description. You would im agine that to see people leaping and frisking and shuffling on the holy Sabbath day, while they at the same time keep up a singing and screeching equal to a concert of owls, would be a very ridiculous thing and must create laughter and derision. But I question if the predominant feeling aroused in a reflecting mind, is not melancholy. They seem so sin cere. Carlyle says, the one great attribute of a hero is sincerity ; if this be true, the lea der of the band of worshippers in ti is Sha ker village, must be a first rate hero. He is a shrewd, penetrating man, with a keen, bright, black eye, prominent nose, and flexi ble mouth. His voice is clear and powerful, and were it divested of a certain nasal twang, would be ipiite eloquent. Does he really be lieve in the strange doctrines he preaches, or js he only trying to gain an ascendency over less gifted and enlightened minds? He is so serious, so earnest, it is difficult to believe him a dissembler. Yet how can be, in the full blaze ol the nineteenth century, support such preposterous arguments and declare them to he the inspirations of the Almighty, who gave him understanding? He exhorts us with the zeal of a St. Paul, to forsake the pomps and vanities of the world, to take up our cross and follow Christ, and live in that oneness of spirit which God requires. He thinks there is no religion beyond the pale of the Shaker village, no sacrifices beyond what they exact. But the exhortation is noth ing to the worship. The diffluent sexes enter : at their separate doors, and seat themselves .on snow white wooden benches.placed oppo site to each other, having a broad space be tween them. ‘Phe men wear large, broad brimmed hats, .which they hang carefully against the wall as soon as they enter, blue homespun coats, -.with broad skirts, with very long waists, and shoes such as l have described, with high heels and immense buckles. They are rud dy, strong and healthy in appearance, resem bling in aspect and figure, the hardy yeomen of New England. But look on the opposite side of the room, where those pallid women sit, and mark the contrast. -What can be the reason ? Is it the peculiar style of their dress, which gives them that cadaverous complexion, that lifeless, leaden look ? They are arrayed in short, white skirts, with short saques over them, a white muslin neckerchief folded primly over their neck and bosom, a white linen moh-cap fastened closely under the chin, which conceals every tress of hair, that beautiful ornament which is to the hu man form, what the tree is to the landscape, shading and decorating it. Really there is a great deal in dress, let poets say what they will of beauty unadorn ed, or why should they all look so uninter esting, and almost all so ugly ? Or is it, that their natural affections being dried up at the fountain, they are turned into living mum mies ? Why, then, does the lordly sex look VOL 111. so hale and rosy ? Have they no affections | which being denied the usual channels, be- i come stagnant pools, fatal to bloom and health ? When the signal for worship is given, about half a dozen aged persons rise from I the opposite sides and arrange themselves in i a kind of octagonal form. Being too anti quated to dance, the task of singing devolves on them—and such singing, who ever heard before ‘? So shrill, so discordant, and yet strange to say, there is a certain wild melody j in it, not unpleasing to the ear. It consists of a monotonous chanting, and the words are a continued refrain, such as— “Babylen is fallen, is fallen, is fallen ; Zion is buiblod, is builded, is budded,” &c. When the dancing commences, they march two and two, at first slowly and demurely, but as the spirit waxes warm within them, their movements quicken, and they diversify the stately march with various evolutions and shuffles and balances impossible to de scribe. Then the whole band of worshippers ; join in the singing in full chorus, and the white-washed walls ring with the unearthly sounds; all the time, during this vehement ex ercise, while the faces of the men glow with j a deeper hue of red, and the dew of exercise gathers on their brows, there is not the faint est suffusion of red on the pale, parchment cheeks of the women. Have they any veins through which the coming and going blood conveys tidings to and from the heart? There is only one face in that passionless hand which gives you an idea of human sen sibility. “0!i! call her fair, not pale.” There is a faint, very faint color percepti ble on her youthful cheek. Her eyes are of j a soft grey with long, cui ling lashes, and in ! spite of her opaque, disfiguring cap and care- j tally concealed hair, she is almost beautiful, j W iien she dances, she does not jump up and down with superfluous activity, but moves j with a kind of dignified indifference through the prescribed formula of motion, as if she disdained the mockery of such worship.— Who is she—this young and lovely girl—this one sweet flower, blooming in the wilder ness? She is an orphan, very recently ad- ! milted to the establishment, and this is the first time she has ever exhibited herself in ; public. Poor girl! it is no wonder her heart pal pitates beneath those stiff linen folds, and I that her tender, appealing eyes are often tur- I ned to the spectators as if imploring their j compassion, and then quickly withdrawn in i shame and embarrassment. Poverty and be i reavemeut have brought her to this. She ! had no home, and the kind, compassionate Shakers (they are very kind and compassion : ate to the po ;•) opened their protecting arms ! to receive her. They tell her that the world is full of vanity and vexation of spirit; that it is full of snares for youth and beauty like hers; that with them she will find peace and happiness. They had better watch those handsome, dashing young men among the 1 group of spectators. Their glances may tell j her that she is beautiful, her vanity may be j excited, or what is more natural, her heart be awakened, and will she find happiness then in her lonely and loveless existence? There is one black woman among the wor | shippers. How strangely her ebon face shines out from the stiff* frame-work that sur | rounds it! She looks a rara avis in that pale 1 sisterhood, and it is a matter oT curiosity how i she came among them. She seems to enjoy j the exercise of dancing most enthusiastical ly, and sometimes actually shows her ivory teeth in a broad smile of delight. What a very strange people they are! Ap parently so zealous in their peculiar mode of ; adoration, so diligent in the discharge of their duties, so separate from the rest of the : world, so convinced that they, and they only, are the elect of God! They have a Bible of their own, to whose rules they strictly ad here. The only intercourse which is permitted to | the males and females, is to sit down at the same common hoard and to worship under j the same roof. They abjure the pleasures of social communion, all sweet, domestic joys, all the holy ties of love and nature. God said of man, when he placed him in the bow ers of Eden, “that it was not good for him to be alone.” If it was not good for him in the garden of Paradise, surely it is not in this sorrow-stricken and sin-darkened world of ours. Yet llie devout Shaker, wiser than his Maker, thinks he is called upon to sacrifice | all the affections of the heart on the altar of : religion, and root up every flower that glad dens the waste places of life. Yet he is charitable, industrious, honest and hospitable. He is a worshipper of truth, and a minister of kindness. There is much ; and pleasant intercourse between him and the world’s people, on matters of business. The Shaker’s seed garden supplies the sur rounding country. Their brooms make clean the adjacent houses. In their distilleries, the j most delicious rose-water is distilled from the I gathered leaves. Their looms fabricate the most beautiful carpets, and the finest coun terpanes. Truly they are a singular and in j teresting people. j C. L H. Quincy, Dec. sth, 1852. QO” A Question by and to the Y oung and Beautiful.—“ What,” asked Margarita J of Cecilia, “what, dearest, do you think is : really the food of Cupid!” . And CeeHia an swered—-“ Arrow root.” * ‘ JACQUF/S FUNERAL A PLAN TATIOX SCENE. “The earliest summon’d and ihe longest spared, Are here deposited with tribute paid Various ; but unto each a tribute paid.” w e insert from the Southern Matron, a pic ture, executed with the exquisite touches of Caroline Gilman, which will be familiar to I many of onr readers: Let me pause to bestow a parting notice | on one who is still associated with the happi est and tenderest scenes of my youth Jacque’s labors, as is customary with aged slaves, had been gradually suspended. He j still performed a few voluntary duties, and might be seen on sunshiny days propping up a failing fence, clearing an encumbered hedge, drying nets, making baskets of rush es or oak, attending to his pigs and poultry, or with a characteristic eye to his master’s interests, tottering to the fields, and shaking ! his head if iie detected any symptom of. waste. Still retaining a feeling of authority I he was angered bv idleness ; even the young negroes, whose greatest toil was to turn summersets, and dance to their own whistling, j tried to look busy or grave when his eye was on them, long after his corporeal and mental powers had ceased their activity. lJut the time drew near when old Jacque must die. It was in vain that mamma gave him her per sonal attendance, Sent him daily luxuries, and anticipated his wants with almost filial ten derness ; the golden cord of his life was loosened, and we were told one morning he had died, breathing a paiyer for his master’s family. Mamma had asked him many years before, if there was anything she could do for his comfort. “Tank you much, my missis,” he answer ed ; “Jacque hah everyting him want in dis world, ’cept dc shroud, praise God.” Mamma gave him money and he expended it on gtave clothes. He had taken them out and aired them from year to year ; now they were, indeed, to enfold his venerable remains and we were a mourning family ; true we were not clad in weeds, but a tender tie had been riven, and it was riven with tears.— None hut those who live under our peculiar institutions can imagine the strong bond ex isting between faithful servants and llie fam ilies with whom they are connected. I was informed by Maum Nanny, Jacque’s sister, that he bad left something for me in th esill of his chest, as his dying bequest— Ail old pocket book was found there, which 1 opened and discovered several hills of conti nental money carefully wrapped in paper. Plantation negroes prefer to bury their dead at night, or before sunrise. Neighbor ing plantations ar6 notified, and all who can obtain tickets from overseers attend. A spot of ground is allotted f<*r their burial-places and simple monuments of affection may usually be found in them. Tiie ceremony of interment is commonly performed by a class-leader, a pious colored man, who is the spiritual teacher of the neighborhood and prepares his brethren by an examina tion into their belief, and a watch over their conduct and feelings, for communion. The “pomp and circumstance” of the bu rial, for it is not less among slaves, in proper lion, than in palaces, delayed the funeral until midnight. As the visitors assembled, they crowded the hut of ihe deceased, and when (fiat was full, stood around the en trance near the coffin. At short intervals, some among the group commenced a hymn, in which all joined; refreshments were then decorously distributed. The death of Jacque had been particularly affecting to me, for I had been bis especial favorite. I went with the boys to see him af ter his decease; and though 1 did not feel the faintness that came over me at witnessing the remains of grandmamma, yet I had that diz zy sensation which youth often experiences at the immense difference between a bright intellectual glance and the glazed eye or moveless lid, between the warm touch of affection, and the stiff cold hand that returns no pressure. The night of his interment was mild, and l sat at my window by the starlight, watch ing the approach of the negroes as they cross | ed the fields, or came through the avenue. 1 ‘Porches were seen glowing in the range of whitewashed huts, and a bush-light was flam ing near Jacque’s habitation, which was so bril liant that 1 perceived the coffin and the groups gathering round it; while occasionally strains of their hymn came floating with a softened cadence on the breeze. The procession was formed: six women, dressed in | ded the coffin, and the pall-beareis, bearing I torches, were on each side. Their path lay | near the house, and nothing was to be heard but an occasional ejaculation of “Lord Je sus!” “He knows!” “God have mercy!” “His will be done !” The burial place was near the river, and a huge oak threw its arms over it, as if protect i ing the dwelling of the dead. I could see them as they wound down the slope and stood in a circle round the grave, distance still sof tening their sacred song. It was one which I had heard from infancy in their devotional : exercises, but never had it touched my feel i ings as now, when it rose over poor Jacque’s ! iast dwelling-place. The leader spoke ; at ; first his voice was low ; then, rising to that ! declamatory shout which often carries the j feelings captive, it reached me where I sat. ! He described the tomb of Lazarus, and said that Jesus wept, and that they might weep, for a good brother was gone, and there was COLUMBUS, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 23, 1852. no Jesus by his grave to bring him back ; he dwelt on the character of Jacque, and on their duty in imitating his example; told them to lie grateful for their religious blessing, for, while the heathen were in darkness, a great light had shone upon them; dwelt long on their sinfulness and God’s anger, and taxed his imagination to paint the torments of hell, unless they repented and accepted the gosjtel. Familiarity with his dialect prevented, with me, all that might have been ludicrous to a stranger, lie prayed for his master and mis tress, that God might reward them for all their goodness to brother Jacque. “Oh Lord Jesus,” lie cried, “bless my young rnaussa. Gie ’em good counsel, and let ’em drink of de water of life ; and bless my young missis ; may she know de Lord dat bought her, and may she bring her alabaster box of ointment and pour it out for the love of her rnaussa, Christ.” As these words reached me, I could not restrain my tears; I laid my head on the win dow-sill, and sobbed aloud. Another hymn was sung. The words of Watts, the sweet singer of the Christian Israel, whose tender notes fall like gentle dew on the heart of monarch and slave, rose in the quiet midnight under that starry heaven, “Why Jo we mourn departing friends, Or shake at death’s alarms ? ’Tis but the voice that Jesus sends, To call them to his arms.” As they ceased, the waving lights passed away. I was again alone with night in its silent beauty. I threw myself on my bed ; the sounds still vibrating on my memory ; and as mv eyes closed in sleep, a vision of the mansion whither the spirit of Jacque had risen, came before me, and I heard cherub voices welcome him to his heavenly home. A plain marble slab may be seen at Rose land, on which is inscribed, “Sacred To the Memory of JACQUE, A faithful slave, His master bears this testimony to his worth.” VALUABLE HINTS TO YOUNG MEN ABOUT COMMENCING BUSINESS. Anew edition of Freedlev’s “Practical Treatise on Business,” published by Lippin cott, Crambo & Cos., has been issued, con taining many valuable additions; and among these we find some bints to young men just commencing the world for themselves, from the pen of John Gfigg, Esq., of . our city, which ought to be printed and framed, like a diploma, and bung up in every counting room and place of business in the cot try. I In a previous reference to Mr. Freedley’s ex | cellent book, we extracted, with commenda tion, some brief hints to young men, from 1 the pen of Mr. Grigg, which we found there in. In this new edition, these hints, at the request of Mr. Freed ley, have been extend ed, and we regard them of such practical utility, that we copy them for our readers entire. Mr Griggsays: “I. Be industrious and economical. Waste neither time nor money in small and useless pleasures and indulgences. If the young can he induced to begin to save, the moment they enter on the paths of life, the way will ever become easier before them, and they wilt not fail to attain a competency, and that without denying themselves any of the real ; necessaries and comforts of life. Our peo ple are certainly among the most improvi dent and extravagant on the face of the earth. It is enough to make the merchant of the old school, who looks back and thinks what economy, prudence and discretion he had to bring to bear on his own business, (and which are in fact the bases of all suc cessful enterprise,) start back in astonish ment to look at lhe ruthless waste and extra vagance of the age and people. The highest test of respectability, with me, is honest in dustry. Well-directed industry makes men happy. The really noble class—the class that was noble when “Adam delv’d and Eve spun,’’ and have preserved their patent to this day untarnished, is the laborious and industrious. Until men have learned industry, economy and self-control, they cannot be safely en trusted with wealth. 11. To ind usiry and economy, add self reliance. Do not take too much advice. The business man must keep at the helm and steer his own ship. In early life, every one should he taught to think for himself. A man’s talents are never brought out until he is thrown to some extent upon his own re sources. If in every difficulty lie has only to run to his principal, and then implicitly ; obey the directions he may receive, he will never acquire that aptitude of perception, and that promptness of decision, and that firmness of purpose, which are absolutely necessary to those who hold important sta tions. A certain degree of Independent feel ing is essential to the full development of the intellectual character. 111. Remember that punctuality is the mo ther of confidence. It is not enough that the merchant fulfils his engagements: he must and • what lie undertakes precisely at the time, as well as in the way he agreed to. The mutual dependence of merchants is so great, that their engagements, like a chain, which, according to the law of physics, is never stronger than its weakest link, are oftener broken through the weakness of others than their own. But a prompt fulfilment of en gagements is not only of the utmost import ance, because it enables others to meet their j own engagements promptly. It is also the best evidence that the merchant has his af fairs well ordered—his means at command, his forces marshalled, and “everything ready for action”—in short, that he knows his own strength. This it is which inspires confi dence, as much perhaps as the meeting oi the engagement. IV. Attend to the minutiae of the busi ness, small things as well as great. See that the store is opened early, goods brushed up, twine and nails picked up, and all ready for action. A young man should consider capi tal, if he have it, or as he may acquire it, merely as tools with which he is to work, not as a substitute for the necessity of labor- It is often the case that diligence in employ ments of less consequence is the most success ful introduction to great enterprises. Those make the best officers who have served in the ranks. We may say of labor, as Coleridge said of poetry, it is its own sweetest reward. It is the best of physic. V. Let (he young merchant remember that selfishness is the meanest of vices, and it is the parent of a thousand more. It not only interferes both with the means and with the end of acquisition—not only makes mo ney more difficult to get, and not worth 1 having when it is got, but it is narrowing to ; the mind and to the heart. Selfishness “keeps ! a shilling so close to the eye, that it cannot see Ia dollar beyond.” Never he narrow and con tracted in your views. Life abounds in in stances of the brilliant results of a generous policy. Be frank. Say what you mean. Do what you say. So shall your fiiends know and take it for granted that you mean to do what isjust and right. VI. Accustom yourself to think vigorous ly. Mental capital, like pecuniary, to be j worth anything must be weli invested—must be rightly adjusted and applied, and to this I end, careful, deep and intense thought is ne | cessary if great results are looked for. VII. Marry early. The man of business should marry as soon as possible, after twen | ty-two or twenty-three years of age. A wo ! man of mind will conform to the necessities of the day of small beginnings: and, in ’ choosing a wife, a man should look at, Ist. | The heart: 2d. The mind : 3d. The person. VIII. Everything, however remote, that | has any bearing upon success, must be taken ; advantage of. The business man should be ! continually on the watch for information, and ideas that will throw light on his path, ! and he should he an attentive reader of all i practical books, especially those relating to j business, trade, <spc., as well as a patron ofuse i ful and ennobling literature. | IX. N ever forget a favor, for ingratitude is | the basest trait of man’s heart. Always hon | or your country, and remember that our country is the very best poor man’s counted i in the world. *1 Were rules like the above carefully obseiv i ved bv every man who commences business, j there would be fewer failures, while periodi cal commercial disasters, sweeping over the country like an epidemic, would cease to be a mercantile experience. Let yomfg men ponder them well. — Arthur’s Gazette. j :t “ ! TEETH EXTRACTED WIJHOUT PA-IN. i Being troubled with Og raging tooth, Pat -1 l ick Murphy rushed into a dentist’s office, the other day, muffling his howls of anguish in : a dirty red pocket-handkerchief. “Faix, docthor,” he cried, drawing up his right leg and drawing down his right shoul der, with an expression of ineffable torture, j “I got a bloodtl|y bad grinder ’at’s thryin’ to ! jump through the top o’ my head ; an’ I see i by ver sign ’at ye exthract teeth widout p-a- I p-a—in.” “Without pain, sir, and on short notice,” said the doctor ; “will \ T ou sit down ?” “That l will ; an’ sure you’re very kind, docthor, and ye may dig out the nasty stump ; as soon as iver ye like.” The tooth was out sooner than he could possibly have anticipated. He rubbed bis eyes, and would not believe iFwas gone, till he had seen it in the dentist’s instrument, and put his own dirty finger in the cavity. “Ugh ! the ugly divil !” he muttered, doub ling his fist at the innocent tooth, “so I’ve got rid of ye at last ! Cheap enough, and it didn’t hurt a bit. Bless ye, docthor, ye’re very kind ! and when I have another suc-li, shall l be-aflher throublin’ ye again ?’ “Certainly, at any time.” “Thank ye, docthor ! Good day, dear docthor.” “But,” said the dentist, “/ must trouble you for my fee.” “Your —hey ?” “My fee—fifty cents.” “Fifty cints /” cried Patrick, in astonish ment. “Would I he afther givin’ ye fifty cints? And what did I come here for, but ’at I’m a poor divil, widout fifty cints in the world, and ye advertise to extrac teeth for nothing ?” “For nothing? What do you mean ?” “Faix, docthor, don’t your sign read, i Teeth extracted widout payin’ ( pain ?”) The earnestness and simplicity of Patrick impressed the dentist so favorably, that, laughing at the blunder, he sent him away witiiout exacting his fee. “Och ! ha ! ha! ha !” said Pat. archly, when once into the street, “I corned it over him this time, Iho’ 1 As if I didn’t know the dif ference between payin ! and pain. But pay- ; in’ would’ve been pain to me ; so I calcu late, on the whole, I got off cheap enough. I Mike, will ye go and dbrink f” • U: t £'i : ‘ V • 7* A WITNESS “AS IS A WITNESS.” Some years since, professional engage ments required 1113’ presence at a Circuit Court which was in session in one of the villages of Western New lork, and during the term, an incident occurred which may be interesting, if not useful, to those legal gen tlemen who are partial to the laws of evi dence. A cause was tried, in which a question ! arose as to personal property claimed to have been sold some time previously under an exe j cution, and the plaintiff’ in the case called a witness to establish the fact of the sale. The following evidence was solicited on cross examination of the witness: Question by Counsel. —Sir, you say \ou attended the sale on the execution spoken of Did you keep the minutes ot that sale ? Witness.— Don’t know, sir, but 1 did ; don’t recollect whether 1 kept the minutes, or the Sheriff, or nobody. I think it was one of us. Counsel. —Well, sir, will you tell me what ; articles were sold on that execution ? Here the witness hesitated, not willing to commit himself by going into particulars, un til the patience of the counsel became ex | hausted, and he pressed a special interroga tory. Counsel. —Did you on that occasion sell a ! threshing machine ? Witness.— Yes, I think we did. Counsel.—l wish you to be positive. Are ! yon sure of it ? Witness. —Can’t say that I am sure of it; and when I think of it, L don’t know as we did; think we didn’t. j Counsel. —Will you swear, then, that you did not sell one ? Wit ness. —No, sir: don’t think I would, for I can’t say whether we did or didn’t. I U Counsel. —Did you sell a horse power ? Witness. —Horse power? Counsel.—Yes, horse power! Witi/icss.—Horse power! Well, it seems to me we did. And then, it seems to me we didn’t. I don’t know now as I can recollect whether I remember there was any horse power there: and if there was any there, I I can’t say whether we sold it or not; but I | don’t think we did; though it may he per haps that we did after all. It’s some time ago, and I don’t like to say certainly’, i Counsel.— Well, perhaps you can tell me j this: Did you sell a fanning mill? Witness. —Yes, sir, we sold a I guess I’m sure of that. Jm- Counsel. —Well,you sweauto that, do you ? one thing, though I dmAft see it ou the list Witness. — Wh I may be mistaken about it; perhaps It may be it was some body elseVfanning mill at some other time; not su® Counsel (to the Court) —l should like to know, may it please the court, what this wit fliess does know, and what he is sure of? I Wi incss (to the Counsel) —Well, sir, I I know one thing that I am sure of, and that is, j that at that sale we sold either a thresh- I ing machine, or a horse power, a fanning mill, or one, or all, or either of them, but I don’t ; know which. — N. Y. Spirit. THE MAN WHO TOOK THE HOMEOPA THIC PILLS. A few days since a friend of mine, who has , been an invalied for some three years, and who for the past year had settled down to be 1 a fixed and confirmed hypochondriac, was induced, after much persuasion by his friends, to call in the aid of one of our most distin guished homeopathic phy’sicans, not, however, until he had swallowed a good portion of the contents of two or three apothecary shops, besides any quantity of roots and herbs, re commended by some half dozen or more In dian doctors and doctresses! After a close; and rigid examination of the symptoms of my j friend, the learned doctor informed me that with the greatest care and aiteution, my friend might perhaps be again restored to a comfortable, if not a sound state of health, I hut that it would require many’ months to do j so. He therefore left a box of pills, yvith the j instruction to my friend’s wife to administer j to him one every two hours of the ensuing : I ten days, at the expiration of which time he would again call upon him. M\ r friend being extremely particular about j following the phvsican’s directions, inunedi- : ately took to his chamber, and after undressing | linn seif, and placing his watch in a conspic uous position; so as not to have the hour pass and he neglect to gulp down his pill, he ; proceeded to syvallow No. 1, and the next se- J cond hour dpwn went No. 2, and so on to No. 3, when the wife and nurse, who had charge of the invalid/perceiving that he yvas quite comfortable, tola him they yvould go and at- ! tend to the domestic-duties of the family, and leave the box of pills (which were verj’ small while ones) on a shelf in the closet, aud as lie appeared so much could take j them himself, as the hours cSb© round. — After swallowing, as he supposed, sdme dozen ! of the pills, he dropped into a sound sleep, in which he continued quietly for the space scif eight or ten hours, and upon waking found his dear yvife sitting by his bedside watching him yvith all that fond solicitude that none but the face of an affectionate wife can portray 7 . On his wife making the enquiry “how he felt?’ he said, “I feel quite relieved, but my i mouth is somewhat dry and parched how- { ever, during that day and the next, he did not seem so well, and they decided to dis pense with the pills for a day or tvyp, to. see yvhat effect those already taken would have upon his system TERMS OF PUBLICATION. One Copy, per annum, if paid in advance,. ..$2 00 “ “ “ “ “ in six mordis, 250 “ “ “ “ “ at end of year, 300 RATES OF ADVERTISING. One square, first insertion, - - - - - $1 00 “ “ each subsequent insertion, - 50 A liberal deduction made in favor of those who i advertise largely. NO. 52. After three or four days’ strict dieting my ; friend began to feel much hotter, and at the i expiration of ten days his physician called ; again to see him; after feeling his pulse, and critically examining his eye and tongue, ho i pronounced him so far recovered that it | would be unnecessary for Idm to continue j taking the pills, but advised him to remain in | his room for a few days longer, and observe a strict diet. During that and the next day j my friend continued to improve both in men tal as well as physical vigor, and requested his wife to bring in his little daughter for him ; to play and toy with, who, by the way, is j one of the most lovely rosy-cheeked, flaxen* ; haired little angels that I ever beheld. As the little cherub trotted into the room and flew into its parent’s embrace, flinging its little ; arms around its father’s neck, 1 saw a tear ! coursing down the cheek of my old friend, I which was only checked by the little girl ! crying out, “Oh ! father, dear, ain’t you well ; enough to string the heads that Aunty Sarah J gave me week before last ?” The father j replied, “Yes, darling, where are they?” . “Mamma put them in a little box and set ! them in the closet.” My friend got up, went j to the closet, took down a small box, and I showing it to his little daughter, asked “if that was the one her mamma put the I beads in ?” “Yes, dear papa.” Mv friend turning round with elongated j face, and eyes sticking out of his head like a | lobster’s, screeched out, “Good God! oldfcl \ low ! I’ve swallowed a tcaspoonf l id of “Mat j ty’s little white beads, instead of the pills the | Doctor left me ! Do 30a think they will bo I of injury to me?” On 1113’ giving him assurance they would not, he instantly seized his hat and cane, and rushed for Barker’s, where he immediately called for two brace of woodcock, a pair of black ducks, and a bottle of old Burgundy, and after doing justice to “Harvey’s” ban quet, walked quietly home, and (as he after wards informed me) crawled up to bed with out waking his wife, but with a firm resolve that if he ever again swallowed white beqd&j instead of homeopathic pills, he would Leefr it to himself, as f’requentljjE’Vhile''passing along the the little boys say, “Themorgps the man that was cured by swalL|ptßg :i string of while beads !”— Spirit ms the Times. INTERESTING TO LADIES. Hereditary Features.— The author of the work entitled “Records of Creation,” mentions some curious facts under this branch of his subject:—“A.peculiar thickness of the under lip has been hereditary to the Imperial House of Hapsburg ever since the marriage, some centuries ago, with the Polish family of Jagelion. whence it came. In our own royal family a certain fulness of the lower and lateral parts of the face is conspicuous in the portraits of the whole series of sove reigns, from George I. to Victoria, and has been equally marked in other members of the family. The females of the Ducal House of Gordon have long been remarkable for a pe culiar elegant conformation of the neck. The Clackmannanshire Bruces, who are descond ; ed from a common stock with the famous I Robert Bruce of Scotland, are said to have ! that strongly-marked form of the cheekbones j and jaws which apears on. the coins of that i heroic monarch, as it din in his actual face when his bones were disinterred at line, about thirty years ago. The prevalent tallness of the inhabitants of Potsdam, many of whom are descended from the gigantic guards of Frederick I. ; the Spanish features observable in the people of the county of Galway, in which, some centuries ago, soma j Spanish settlements were made; and the he j reditary beauty of the women of Prague, are \ well-known facts, wiiich have frequently at ; traded the attention of chronologists. The | burgesses of Rome (the most invariable por | tion of every population) exhibit, at the pre sent day, precisely the same type of face and form as their ancestors, whose busts may be seen carved in relief on the ancient sarcopb.i- ’ : gi; and the Jewish physiognomies portrayed I upon the Sepulchral monuments of Egypt, > j are identical with those which may beobserv j ed among modern Jews in the streets of any 1 of our great cities.” WEBSTER’S HEAD. He was a great man, a man of the lar : gest mould, a great body and a great brain : | he seemed made to last a hundred 3’ears.— j Since Socrates, there ha3 seldom been a head so massive, huge—since the stormy features ; of Michael Angelo, “The head-that rounded Peter’s dome, And groined the aisles of Christian Rome,” 1 He who sculptured Day and Njgbt into ! such beautiful forms—lie looked them in his ! face before he chiselled them in stone.— I Dupuytren and Cuvier are said lo be tiie on ; ly men in our day that have bad a brain so ! vast. Since Charlemagne, I think there has not been such a grand figure in all Christen dom. A large man, decorous in dress, dig nified in deportment, he walked off as if ho felt himself a king. Men from the country who knew him not, stared at him, as he pass ed through our streets. The coal-heavers and porters of London looked on him as one of the great forces of the globe ; they recognized him a native king. In fee S male of the United States, be look ed an E Vqieror in that council. Even the ma jestic Calhoun seemed common compared “with him. Clay looked and Van Bu ren but a fox. What a inoqfli be had ! It was a lion’s mouth. Yet therqj was a sweet grandeur in his smile, and a woman’s sweet ness when he would. What a brpw it was ! what eves! like charcoal lire iufthe bottom of a deep dark well. His face,was rugged with volcanic fires, great passions and great thoughts. .... w KXtlo front of Jove himself, Ao eye like Alsus, to threaten aud eqnrnan i.'’ (Theodore,Parker. • 1 * ’"’"HPT