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THE fiOSTESIEmSJ Will be published every SATURDAY Morning t U the Brick Building, at the Corner of Cotton Avenue and First Street, Iff THI CITY OF MACOff, CA. BY WM. B. HABBIBQX. TE RMS : For the Paper, in advance, per annum, $4. if not paid in advance, $2 50, per annum. If not paid until the end of the Year $3 00. O* Advertisements will be inserted at the usual rateJ _l ani j when the number of insertions de sired is not specified, they will be continued un til forbid and charged accordingly. (□•Advertisers by the Year will be contracted with upon the most favorable terms. (□“Sales of Land by Administrators, Executors or Guardians, are required by Law, to be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten o’clock in the Forenoon and three inthe Af ternoon, at the Court House of the county in which the Property is situate. Notice of these Sales must be given in a public gazette sixty days previous to the day of sale □“Sales of Negroes by Administators, Execu tors or Guardians, must be at Public Auction on, the first Tuesday inthe month, between the legal hours of sale, before the Court House of the county where the Letters Testamentary, or Administration oir Guardianship may have been granted, first giv ing notice thcTeoffor sixty days, in one ofthe pub lic gazettes of this State, and at the door of the Court House where such sales are to be held. □* Notice for the sale of Personal Property must be given in like manner forty days previous to the day of sale. to the Debtors and Creditors olan Es tate must be published for forty days. that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne groes must be published in a public gazette in this H.ate for four mouths, before any order absolute can be given by the Court. J-Citatioss for Letters of Administration on an Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary,must be published thirty and ays -for Letters of Dismis sion from the adinimstrationofan Estate, monthly for six months —for Dismission from Guardian-; ship forty days. ij-Rui.rs for the foreclosure of a Mortgage, must be published monthly for roun months — fi- establishing lost Papers, for the full space of th ike months —for co ripell l ng Titles from E\- c if >rs, Administrators or others, where a Bond hai b-in given by the deceased, the full space of three months. V I \ll Business of this kind shall receiv prn not ittentionat the SOUTHERN MUSEUM <• fi •«, al l s rict care will he taken that all legal \lvir ise nents are published according to Law. H T 'll Letters directed to this Office or the Editor on business, mus be fost-paid, to in sure it ens "O o~t r n . The Thriving Family—A Song. BY MRS. SIGOUIiNF.Y. Our father lives in Washington, And has a world of cares, But gives his children each a farm, Enough for them and theirs. Full thirty well grown sons has lie— A numerous race indeed— Married and settled all, d’ye see, With boys and girls to feed. So if we wisely till our lands, We’re sure to earn a living. And have a penny too to spare For spending or for giving. A thriving family are we. No lordling need deride us; Fur we know bow to use our bands, And in our wits we pride us. Hail, brothers, hail ! Let nought on earth divide ns. Some of us dare the sharp northeast [ Some clover fields are mowing ; Arid others tend the cotton plants That keep the looms a-going; Some build and steer the white-wing'd ships And few in speed Can mate them ; While others rear the corn and wheat, Or grind the corn to freight them. And if our neighbors o'er the sea Have e’er an empty larder, To send a loaf their babes to cheer We'li work a little harder. No old nobility have we, No tyrant king to ride us ; Our sages in the Capitol Enact the laws that guide us. Hail, brothers, bail ! Let nought on earth divide us. Some faults we have, we can't deny— A foible here and there ; But other households have the same, And so we won’t despair. ’Twill do no good to fume and frown, And call hard names, you see, And what a shame t’would be to part So fine a family ! ’Tis but a waste of time to fret, Since nature made us one, For every quarrel cuts a thread That healthful love, lias spun. Then draw tl e cords of union fast, , Whatever may betide ns, And closer cling through every blast, For many a storm lias tried us. Hail, brothers, bail ! Let nought on earth divide us. HOPE. * »e world may change from old to new tun,, „,. w . Vr n,l< * heaven, forever true, n nn man’s heart remain. *e reams i| m t bless the weary soul, ie strugg| sis of the strong, re s < ps towards some happy goal, 11,6 s or > oT llopa’s song ’ 'S!' *he child to plant the flower, i m * n M,w ,h « *•>'•<*; r eaves fulfilment to her hour, » ! 11 P r ‘ ~nP *s again to deed. Ti ere,, P on the old man’s dust Ur Br,*ss8 r, *ss is seen to wave, it , * lr "Ugh fallen tears—to trust P c s sunshine on the grave. n °c '* * no Haltering lure, No fancy, weak or fond, en mpe would bid us rest secure Nn l et,er Ida beyond. 'f oss nor shame, nor grief nor sin, r promise mnv gainsay ; And r e Pa V j n ° ,ln! “P oke 'vithin, ttd God did no’or betray. THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM. BY W M. B. HARRISON. From Godty's Lady's Book for April. FALLING IN LOVE. A Bundle of oilier People’s Experiences. BY GRACE GREENWOOD. I have often thought that a very inter esting and curious magazine-article might be written by someone possessing more knowledege both of the affairs of the heart and the way ■of the world than myse f, on the strange influences that bring about and the different circumstances which at tend that impressing of the heart and ar resting of the fancy called falling in love. The grand drama of the heart, though it ton frequently has a tragical finale, has most often a comical beginning; this di vine sentiment is inclined to be excessive ly merry in its y uih, hough it grows se rious and terribly in earnest irt after time; this mighty power which rtlles a world that fears while it adores-4-thia Napoleon of the passions h4s a rich &nd of humoi and hosts of odd whims and fancies under his imperial a rogance and tyranny. Title, deep, devoted love is a destiny, and therefore something awful as well as beautiful, yet there are many times cir cumstances waiting on its first revelation amusing and even ludicrous in their na ture; and'here are few, through what ever great deeps they may have passed, who can look back without a smile to that hour when they first felt in their startled hearts the awakening of emotions new and incomprehensible, yet strong as heaven. With a few examples intended to illus trate the “ little corporal’s” novel plans for the surprise of the heart, which have mos ly been related tome by the pa ties especially concerned, I hope to amuse my readers for twenty minutes or so. I will begin with one where it was literally fall ing in love. My friend Fanny Weston was a light hearted, brilliant-looking, though not de cidedly handsome \ oung Kentuckian, who, having lost her parents, was brought north by hei guardian and placed under the care of an uncle in Albany, for the sake of attending one of the excellen semina ries of that good ' Id Dutch city. Fanny was distinguished in the large school in which she became a pupil, for her fine talent, wit and spirit, and loved for her gay, merry nature and genuine kindness of heart. She was generous and brave enough to become the voluntary champion of the poor and ill-used girls against overbearing teachers and vulgarly aristocratic pupils—for some of such, it seems, must darken the little sunshine of every school. To be brief, our heroine was a fine, cheerful, natural, truthful girl, whose person and manner were full ot cbaiacter. I liked her well from our first meeting. It chanced that one winter morning, as Fanny sat out from her uncle’s handsome residence for school, she found the walk ing most perilously slippery. It had rain ed in torrents and then frozen hard, the nigh' before, and left all the way and eve ry liing covered and glittering with ice. The level sidewalk was like glass, and pe destrian sifter pedestrian measured his length upon the treacherous flags —a moat involuntary measure—cutting strange ca pers in the air as he went down Now, our Fanny had a quick eye fm the ludic rous, and an aim st wicked enjoyment of the small rnis'ortunes of others when they had any ridiculous points about them ; s she laughed like a little “trickeyelf’ at the sudden downfall and hurried up strug gle of slim youth and burly citizen, as she picked her dainty way school ward that frosty winter morning—utterly careless meanwhile, believing herself as agile and sure-footed as a wild chamois on its na tive hills. A length her attention became absorb ed in the progress of an individual, behind whom she waked for a considerable dis tance. This was an antiquated exquisite, consequential and corpulent to an impos ing degree, with a gait half swagger, half roll. Fanny watched his course eagerly, almost impatiently, actually holding her brea h for the catastrophe which she felt must be the inevitable ill which so much flesh was heir to. It came at las —“ and what a fall was tiere !” It shook all the glass in front of hotel - upon my wold it did ! Then that mischievous gip sy with whom we have todo, stopped sho t and gave a scream of merriment, throwing haci her head, as was her habit when she laughed heartily. As she did so, her feet slid fr m under her, and vainly flinging up her arms to save herself, she fell back ward -but not to the ground! No— strong, manly arms caught her, and she looked up to see a handsome, smiling face, bending over her, and to hear, as she was lifted to her feet, a pleasant voice say, in a rather serious tone—“ My dear young lady, never laugh at the misfortunes of others." With painful blushes, Fanny stammer ed out her hanks to the kind stranger, and went her way, but not before she had seen him hasten t » the assistance of the fallen man lift him up, and place his hat and cane in his hand. This little incident was quite an adven ture to Fanny; and though she was mor tified at the part she hud played in it, she could not regret that it had occurred. The courtesy and kindness of the stran ger filled her thoughts—that handsome, smiling face haunted her; she wondered if she should ever see it again, and as she wondered 6he sighed unconsciously. Her lessons were sadly imperfect that day, but she seemed strangely unheedful of the sur prise and reprimand of her teacher. As she reached home, she immediately sought her room, and flinging her cloak and hood on a stand, sat down, with her face buried in her hands, dreaming such wild, fantastic dreams as mock the crea tions of romance. At last the dinner-bell roused her from her vague reverie, and making some slight additions to her simple toilet, and giving her rich chestnut hair a few careless strokes of the brash, she went below. The family were already seated at the fa ble when she entered ; she noticed that a stranger was among them, but his back was toward her. As she took her accus tomed seat at the side of her uncle, he said—“ My niece, Mr. Rossiter.” Fanny looked towards the guest, and as she did so her cheek became almost the deep color of the crimson merino dress shs wme. for her eyes met that handsome, smiling face—-the face of one who had oc cupied all her thoughts since morning. Ihe recognition and the pleasure were mutual—the agreeable beginning of a most agreeable acquaintance. Mr. Rossiter (he was the Honorabh Mr. Rossiter, by the by, if being a mem ber of the legislature might give him that title,) was an old friend of Mr. Weston’s, and Fanny remembered to have often heard him spoken of in her uncle’s family with much apparent regard and admiration. After this day, lie came very frequently indeed,—more frequently, it was though , than wa9 quite consistent with his charac ter as a statesman and his duty to his con stituents—to visit his old friend Weston. In truth, the affectionate relations subsist ing between these two seemed like pro fane copies of the loves of David and •lonathan—quite after Damon and Pythi as, and slightly suggestive of Orestes and Py lades. It sometimes happened that Mr Rossi ter called when both Mr. and Mrs Wes ton were absent, and as their young olive branches” were scarce ou of the nursery, Fanny was reduced to the dire necessit of doing the entire agreeable. But they got along very well together, th ugh she hardly bore her part in the conversation. Yet could the potraits on the parlor wall have heard, they might have remarked that the Honorable gentleman was at such times more than usually eloquent—recit ing parts of late speeches in the House, it may be; and coult they have seen, they might have observed that he sometimes, placed that handsome, smiling face very close to Fanny s cheek—to whisper some political secret into her ear, perhaps. Now, cur hero was considerably older than our heroine—hut Love can leap wi der chasms than that between nineteen and thirty five. 'The coming of spring took Fanny finally fri m school and »lr. Rossi ter home to his anxious constituents. ******* It was July when Mr Rossiter paid another visit to his dear old friend, at his country-house, a few miles out of the city. He was received by Mr. and Mrs. Wes ton with some surprise, bu much cordiali ty. After a reasonable time, he inquired f r Fanny, and was directed to an arbor in a rem te part of the large garden, where she usually spent her mornings. Rossiter walked thither with a quick bu noiseless step. He came up behind her as she stood at the entrance of the arbor tying u> a straggling rose-tree. He step ped so softly and brea hed so low that she did not hear him till he called her name almost in her ear, and she looked up into that handsome, smiling face once more ! I have said it was midsummer, hut you would have sworn that the garden-walk was cover <1 with winter ice had you seen how suddenly and invo unturily Fanny again fell in o those arms extended to re ceive her. “ A fine old English gentleman ’ once told me the s ory of his first falling earn estly in love, which relation struck me as something rather unique. Mr. Rivers, my friend, was in early life a merchant of large property, and, judg ing from his present prepossessing appear ance, of remarkable personal attractions. He was thoroughly, if not highly educated, and with just sufficieti refinement to tem per, not enervate the strong manliness of his character. It happened that one season the society of he manufacturing town in which he resided received a great additi n in the person of a young, beautiful and elegant (Yeole widow, from Gaudaloupe, who, on the death of her husband, an English sea captain, had been invited to make her home among his relations in M . Our friend Mr. Rivers seemed especial ly attracted by this stranger lady’s love liness and a complishments. The dark type of her beauty was new to him, and the soft, tender character of hes face might well have capt'vated him without aid from a form >f noble pr. portions and almost inluptuous ful ness. But though his brain sometimes grew dizzy with pleas urable but half hewi tiering sensations, his breast heaved with no tumult of emotion —in truth, his fancy was alone fascinated ; his heart had no ruinous amount of in cr est at stake in the matter. One evening during the Chris'ma* holi days, our hero attended a small social par ty where he was to meet Madame Hor tense, as Mrs. Middleton was usually MACON, APBII 14, 1849. named. She was the first object on which his eyes fell as he entered the drawing room ; and a regal-looking creature was she, with her grand figure, her pale, clas sic face and her languid attitude, as she half-reclined on a softly-cushioned sofa. She was dressed in black velvet, with a profusion of lace ; her neck, shoulders and arms exposed, and her wealth of dark hair pa tly confined by a crimson net. Strongly in contrast with her was a lady who sat in the farther corner of the sofa —a short, plump, little figure, with a pe culiarly English face and air—a fine bust and arm, lovely hands, a fair neck, bloom ing cheeks and lips, b ue eyes and blonde hair. She was dressed very simply in white, and appeared quite young. As Mr. Rivers drew near this sweet, home like looking girl, she smi ed pleas antly. What teeth she showed when she smiled! What dimples broke over her sunshiny face! Rivers looked bewilder ed at first, but soon stepped eagerly for ward aude rdially extended his haud, with a “ Why, .Maty is it ,ou?” It seemed hat Mary Stevens had been quite a pet of his in her childhood, hut having been absent from M ■ ■ ,at school, for five or six years, had nearly grown out of his recollection. Rivers lingered for some time in friend ly conversation by his old favorite and then turned away and took his cus omary position near the enchanting v idow. Ilis wit and spirit seldom failed to rouse her to something like animation, and this eve ning she seemed quite playful in her hu mor. Something at length he had said which appeared to pique her, and she sud denly caught up the sofa-cushiou on which her dimpled elbow bad rested, and flung it at the culprit’s head. It look effec’ ; and as she >aw that he was about to re turn the compliment, she rose and exten ded her superb arms to receive it. Phi dias, what an attitude ! —a thought too languid and studied, perhaps, butstil mag nificent. But. when she came to toss back the cushion in hei turn, how gently and softly was it done ! It had scarce mo mentum enough to reach its destination. And then her little, low, birdie laugh, and her sweet, plaintive cry of, “Ah, ah. too •aid! Ruthless barbarian, you will an nih lateme! ’Pon my word. lam half dead with fatigue! But I will have the last brow, if I die for it! ’ At length the cushion missed its fair mark, and passing her. hit our friend Ma ry in the face. With a quick spring from the sofa,she flung it back, s > well direc ted and with such force as to almost stag ger the laughing young man as it beat aga’nst his bead. Another instant and it came rushing back again, was caught and returned with added impetus. And so it continued for some minutes on its swift journeys back and forth ; and there she stood, the mischievous little maiden, in a posture graceful yet bold, swaying rapid ly this way and that, her shining curls fal ling o er her glmving face, and her clear, childish laugh ringing out merrily all the while as she tossed and caught with the vigor and agility of a wild zingara. Rivers was carried away with the ex citement and merriment of the play, and immensely delighted with that charming prese ration of nature which he perceived in the fair pet of his boyhood. He said to me—“ Her first spirited spring from the sofa pleased me —her first vigorous fling of the cushion made an impression on my heart, and every succeeding hit hut drove i in. Ah ! that was a game when every throw won! I could have flung sofa cushions with her forever.” At last the announcement of dinner put an end to this s mewhat iude sport, and it was observed that Mr. Rivers handed out “ hat wild Miss Stevens” in preference to the elegant Madame Hoi tense. Said my friend—” You will scarcely be surprised when I tell you that itdidnotiake a gteat length of itne to get me in love with good, hearty, loveable nature, after my brief infatuation with soulless art, and that long befo e the next Christmas ho i days I had asked that dear little hoyden to allow me henceforth to furnish the sofa cushions with which she should see fit to pelt mv devoted head. “ And thus my Mary won me." I would merely remark that this were well enough for once, hut that 1 would not advise my young lady reade s to at empt impressing the hearts of their admirers indiscriminately by a process so indirect at best, and, it may be. so perilous. “ Cir cuinstatices alter cases,” and there is a vast difference in heads. A Noble Sentiment—" I look,” said Channing, “with scorn on the selfish great of the world, and with pity on the gifted prosperous in the strugg e for office and power, hut 1 look with reverence on the obscure individual who suffers for the right, who istiue to a good but persecuted cause. Friends.—Hudibras says, a sincere friend is— True as the dial to the sun, Although it lie not ahone t.poo ! And another observer of human frailty add.: “ A false friend is like the shadow of the stui dial, and vanishes at the smallest cloud.” True Greatness. —What is great is not always good—but what is good is always great. VOLUME 1-NUMBER 20. From the National Intelligencer. Lectures on Athens and Attica-No. 9. Professor Kokppen’s second lecture on the Acropolis of Athens, last Tuesday eve ning, was illustrated with several views of the Parthenon, exhibiting the temple as it stood in an itjuify. with its polychrome decorations, and its ruins in their present condition, nfter the recent excavations around its columns by the architects of King Otho. The leveled platform t.f ihe Acropolis, which in antiquity was occupied by a vast number of sauctuaries, altars, and statues of gods, heroes, and celebrated Athenian and Roman statesmen and poets, is at the present day covered with immense heaps of marlrle bl cks, among which many precious sculptures and iucriptions have been found, now deposited in the halls o the Propyloea. On the left of he entrance are still seen the square foundations of the pedestal on which st od the colossal bronze statue of Athenian statuary The great temple of Minerva (the Par thenon) was built in the year -140 B. C., on thefoundationsofan olderternp'e which had been burnt down during the Persian wars. The eloquence of Pericles exci ted the enthusiasm of the Athenians to un dertake this great national monument. Every citizen hastened to have his share in the labors on the Acropolis; the whole city was transformed into a working place, while thousands of mules and oxen were dragging tiro huge marble blocks from the quarries on Mount Peutelicon to the height o; the castle rock. The Parthenon signifies the dwelling of the Virgin, and was a Doric temple, wi h a double row of eight columns in each front, and seventeen in each flank—sixty four in all. The height of the fluted col umns is thirty-four feet, their diameter six feet two inches. The length of the tern pie is two hundred and twenty-eight fee , its breadth one hundred and two feet. It is raised on an immense platform, having three stairs all around the building The cell of the temple was divided into two compartments ; on the east, the t'huia mos, or vit gin’s hall where the impression of the base of ihe colossal statue of Miner va is still seen on the marble pavement. The western apartment was smaller; it was called opisthodomos, or back room, and served as the treasury ofthe Athenian republic, thus placed beneath the imme dia e protection of the tutelar deity of At tica. A large collection of inscriptions, lately discovered on the Acropolis, give the most minute account of tlie_sLal£_ul_llie_ public treasury during different periods of A henian history, and contain a highly cu rious register of the precious arms, vases, and other votive offerings adorning the in terior of the sanctuary. After an interesting detail of the vari ous has reliefs ofthe frieze and metopes, and a lucid explanat on of the late discov eries fiom elegant paintings by M Leon de la Borde, the lecturer dwelt with en thusiasm on the beauty anil taste of the polychromatic and golden ornaments ofthe ancients. Not only the celebrated ivory statue nf Minerva was richly adorned with golden decorati ns, hut the same precious metal was profusely employed in the orna ments of the other sculptures, and on the glittering sh elds on the facades of the temple. Their relief was set off wi h the mo t brilliant co'ors. On the Parthenon the two pediments and the ground ofthe metopes were painted in purple ; the trig lyphs and the ground of the frieze were oi a brilliant azure blue, and the whole peristyle and botn the eastern and western porticoes were richly painted wi h e'egant and fanciful decorations. These colors are all metallic, and were a plied on mar ble by means of a thin coating < f wax. The enravst r. i.ainting, burnt on he mar ble by fire, was used by the ancients in or der to give gloss and brilliancy to their colors, and to preserve them from injuiy by air or moisture. The Greeks, with their bright creative imagination and their high sense of beauty, living surrounded by a scenery which na tute had touched with the most brilliant tints of the rainbow, boldly took up the hint thus given them, and adorned their sanctuaries with the bright and glittering colors, in perfect harmony with the natur al objects around them. The Goths, the Danes, the An In-Saxons, beneath their cold and cloudy sky, admired the immense gray and gloomy ciles of their Christian churches, the vaulted aisles of their con vents. and their battlemen ed castles. Ihe Greeks on the contrary, were fond of light and life ; they consecated dark ness and death to the austere deities of the infernal regions, and called the Furies the gnble sisters of night ! The dazzling light of day surr unded the snowy abode of their Olymp an gods, and the luminous sane uary of Pallas Athene on her lower ing Acropolis. Thus the painted decora tion on the Hellenic monuments may be considered as being in the most perfect harmony of character and execution with their sculpture ; but it. was on y during the palmy days of Athenian art —the age of Pericles and Phidias— that ’rirms of such excellent, accurate, and delicate design were produced. Mr. lvoeppen then gave the history of the Parthenon, from the earliest times down to the present day. In the year 1687 this celebrated tem ple was partly destroyed by the explosion of a powder magazine ; hut the most bar baric trea meat which it has received was in the early pait of the present century, BOOK AND JOB PRINTING, Will be executed in the most approved style and og the best terms, at the Ojfice of the SCTJTHSPsIT MUSEUM, -BY— WM. B. IIARRISON. when Lord Elgin, then English Ambassa dor at Constantinople, obtained & firman from the Grand Signor to allow him to collect some “ old stones” in and about Athens. He proceeded with his authority to dislodge the friezes, and other ornamen tal parts of the temples, especially of the Parthenon—to remove the statues, alter grossly mutilating them, and rendering al most worthless what he could not take away. The sight of this indiscriminate plundering was too much even for Turk* isk indifference to endure. Strong re monstrances were made to the Porte, and another finnan was issued forbidding any further removal of “ old stones.” l’ifty three slabs of the frieze of the Parthenon, and twenty-five out of ninety-two metopes, were included in the eighty boxes which, in 1812, were received in England, sold to the Bri ish Government for about $200,- 000, and placed in the British Musewp, where they still remain. When these dislodged, expatriated, mu tilated groups were viewed by an honest countrywoman of the iconoclast, she in quired if these were the Elgin marbles for which the Government paid £40,000 i and being answered in the affirmative, ex claimed, “ Bless my heart, are there not living men em ugh in England that havo hud their limbs broken or cut off, that our ttreat folks must be bringing so many dead ones a long way over the seas, without arms, or leg 9, or heads, and paying such a deal of money for them, too V' This incident showed the estimation in which the act of those who received and paid for the plunder is viewed l>y honest people, even in England. The triple temple of Minerva Polias, called the Erechthenm, is standing on the north side of the platform, near the pre cipice of the rock from which the daugh ters of Cecrops had precipitated them selves after opening the forbidden box of Pandrosos. This splendid building, with its three portici es in the elegant lonic order of ar chitecture, was it: g«sd preservation until the late war of independence, when a Turkish ball striking the corner column of the northern portico, the whole gave way, and buried the family of ihe Greek Com mander, General Gouras, beneath its ru ins. The greatest ornament of the Erech theum is the hall of the Caryatids, six beautiful colossal statues of Athenian vir gins, supporting on their heads the enta blature. Lord Elgin carried ofl one of the maidens, and on the plastor pillar winch life |>lacedrin the place of the Cary atid was afterwards seen the following in scription of Lord Byron: Quod non fecerunt Gothi, Hoc frccrunl Scoci. •All, Athene! scarce escaped from Turk and Goth Hell sends a paltry Scotchman worse than both!” Numerous inscrip'ions found near the Erechtheum give interesting details of the rebuilding of the temple during the Pelo pouiiessian war, of the splendid encaustic paintings with which the porticoes were adorned, and the registers of all the pre cious votive offerings and trophies deposi* ed in the sanctuary of Atheni Polias. The lecture closed with an animated de scription of the grand spectacle of the il lumination of the Acropolis by large bon fires on the fete of King Olho, .lune 1, 1835. All the unpleasant spots and splin ters on the columns, occasioned by the Turkish shells and balls during the late war, which, in the day time, checker aiiu disfigure the noble front of the temple, had then vanished in the obliqe illumination of the blazing flames and the mellow moon light. The gigantic virgins of the Erech theum emerged from the deep shade in the combined light of the ruddy flames and ti e pale moon as supernatural beings from another world, while in the depth below the plain and the dis'ant city of Athens, beneath the influence of the illumination, appeared as an immense lake reflecting the twinkling of the stars on the firmanent above. Sono Birhs—The delightful music of song birds is perhaps the chief cause why these charming little creatures are in all countries so highly prized. Music is a universal language; it is undet stood and cherished in evety country, the savage the barbarian, and tbe civilized individual, are all passionately found of music— particu larly of melody. But delightful as music is,perhaps there is another reason that may have led man to deprive the warblers of ihe woods and fields ol'liberty, particularly in civilized states, where the intellect is more refined, and, consequently, the feel ings more adapted to receieve tender iro rressions—we mean the association of ideas. Their sweet melody brings him more particularly in contact withthegToves and meadows—with romantic banks or beautiful sequestered glades—the cherish ed scenes, perhaps of his early youth. But, independent of this, the warble of a sweet song bird is in itself very delightful ; and to men of sedentary habits, confined to cities by professional duties, and to their desks most part ofthe day, we do not know a more innocent or more agreeable recre ation than the rearing and training of these little feathered musicians. Very True. —Men are like bugles, the more brass they contain the further you can hear them. Ladies are like violets, the more m dest and retiring they appear, tne better you love them.