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THE It'd! be published every SATURDAY Morning, In the Tico-Story Wooden Building, at the Corner of Hal nut and fifth Street, IN THE CITY OF MACON, CA. IJV WM. «. IXAKItISOX. r E It M s . For tho Piper, in advance, per annum, if not paid in advance, $2 50, per annum. If not paid until the end of the Year $3 00. Advertisements will be inserted at the usual rales —and when the number of insertions de sired is not specified, they will be continued un til forbid and charged accordingly, O’Adverlisers by the Year will be contracted with upon the most favorable terms. (LpSiles of Land by Administrators, Executor s or Guardians, are required by Law, to bo held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten o’clock in the Forenoon and three in the Af ternoon, at the Court House of the county in which the Property is situate. Notice ofthese Sales must be given in a public gazette sixty days previous to the day of sale. qj’Sales of Negroes by Administators, Execu tors or Guardians, must be at Public Auction, on the first Tuesday in the month, between the legal hours of sale, before the Court House of the county where the Letters Testamentary, or Administration •or Guardianship may have been granted, first giv ing notice thereoffor sixty days, in one of the pub lic gazettes of this State, and at the door of the Court House where such sales are to be held. lO'Notice for the saleof Personal Property must be given in like manner forty days previous to the day of sale. ijj*Notice to the Debtors and Creditors otan Es tate must be published for forty days. Notice 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 State for four months, before any order absolute can be given by the Court. dj* Citations for Letters of Administration on an Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary, must be published thirty days— for Lettersof Dismis-; sion from the alministration ofan Estate, monthly for six months —for Dismission from Guardian ship FORTY DAYS. (Lj*Rur.F.s for the foreclosure of a Mortgage, must be published monthly for four months — for establishing lost Papers, for the full space of three months —for compelling Titles from Ex ecutors, Administrators or others, where a Bond hasbeen given by the deceased, the full space of THREE MONTHS. N. U. All Business of this kind shall reeeiv prompt attontionat the SOUTHERN MUSEUM Office, and strict care will be taken that all legal Advertisements arc published according to Law. O*All Letters directed to this Office or the Editor on business, must be post-paid, to in sure attention, n) Wives of Working Men. —Speaking of the middle ranks of life a good writer observes: “There we behold a woman in all her glory—not a doll to carry silks and jevvles; not a puppet to bo dandled by fops, an idol of profane adoration, rever enced to-day, and discarded to-morrow, admired but not respected; desired, but not esteemed ; ruling by passion, not af fection ; imparting her weakness, not her constancy to the sex which she should ex alt. tho somca and mirror of vanity —but we saw her as bis wife, partaking the cares and guiding the labors of her bus band, and by her domestic diligence spreading cheerfulness around her, for his sake sharing the decent refinements of the world without being vain of them ; pla cing all her happiness in the merited ap probation of the man she loves. Asa mother, we find her affectionate, the ar dent instructress of the children she has tended from their infancy ; training them up to truth and virtue, to meditation and benevolence—addressing them as ration al beings, and and preparing them to be come men and women in their turn. Me chanics’ daughters should make the best wives in the world, but for the mean and anti-republican odor that is now given to labor. Neither man nor woman that despises labor ought to live in our com monwealth. How to Grow Rich. —A man in busi ness of any description, ought to consider his time as valuable to him as money ; of this, the following is capital example. A physician of my acquaintance called on a brother of the same profession, living in Alderman bury ; and in the course of a conversation, asked him the following question:—“How is it, , the world says you accumulate and grow rich; what is your secret?—with all possible manage ment, and practice, as you know, on our occasionaly comparing notes, fully equal to yours, 1 find that 1 can do little more than make my receipts adequate to my outgoings ?” “ Step into the entrance hall with me, and I will explain the matter,” was the answer. They adjourned to the place where showed his friend the whole of this secret; it was his hat, cane, and gloves, lying on the table opposite the street door. “1 understand you,” said the medical friend, laughing, and wishing 'aim a good morning. Some of my readers may probably wish 'or an explanation ; the moment that a rat- ; at was heard, the first oject that presented itself, on opening the door, was —, "ith liis hat thrown carelessly on, his canc under his arm, and drawing on his gloves. We are come to dine and take a bot tle of port with you,” was sometimes the salutation. “Nothing could be more un ucky,” replied the wary economist, "I llVe not yet seen half my patients, and 1 "at this moment sent for to a great con citation on a bad liver case, which needs voDsiderable time and attention ; it is 1 assmeyou a great disappointment, but bus iness must be minded, and 1 hope to have )! <; J^ easure of your company another ith those wot da he moved forward . . wished them good morning ; a rep t llloa °f almost the same story to every 'tsitor at that hour soon cleared the house J diuner company ; he accumulated a ‘jtndsotne fort une, collected pictures, pur- scarce books, aud erected a a vil THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM. VOLUME II 13 o c t v 2» . The Widowed Inebriate's Lament* BY A. J. 11. DCGANNE. I’m thinking on thy smile, Mary— Thy bright and trusting smile— In the morning of our youth and love, Ere sorrow came—or guile • When thine arms rterc ticincd about my neck, Anil mine eyes looked into thine And the heart that throbbed for me alone, li as nestling close to mine ! 1 see full many a smile, Mary, On young lips beaming bright; And many an ey e of light and love Is flashing in my sight.— But the smile is not for my poor heart, And the eye is strange to me, And loneliness comes o’er my soul When its memory turns to thee ! I’tn thinking on the night, Mary, The night of grief and shame, When with drunken ravings on my lips, To thee I homeward came O, the tear was in thine earnest eye, And thy bosom wildly heaved, Yet a smile of love was on thy cheek, Though the heart was sorely grieved. But the smile soon left thy lips, Mary, And thine eye grew dim and sad : For the tempter lured my steps from thee, And the wine-cup drove me mad : From thy check the roses quickly fled, And thy ringing laugh was gone, Yet thy heart still fondly clung to me, And still kept trusting on. O, my words were harsh to thee, Mary, For the wine-cup made me wild ; And 1 chid thee when thine eyes were sad, And I cursed thee when they smiled ; God knows I loved thee even then, But the fire was in my brain, And the curse of drink was in my heart, To make my love a banc. ’Twas a pleasant home of ours, Mary, In tin! spring time of our life, When I looked upon thy sunny face, And proudly called thee wife— A nd ’twas pleasant when our children played Before our cottage door— But the children sleep with thee, Mary, f shall never sec them more. Thou’rt resting in the church-yard, now, And no stone is at thy head ! But the sexton knows a drunkard’s wife Sleeps in that lowly bed ; And he says the hand of God, Mary, Will fall with crushing weight On the wretch who brought thy gentle life To its untimely fate ! But he knows not of the broken heart I bear within my breast, Or the heavy load of vain remorse, That will not let me rest; He knows not of the sleepless nights, When dreaming of thy love, I seem to see thine angel eyes, Look coldly from above. I have raised the wine cup in my hand, And the wildest strains I’ve sung, Till with the laugh of drunken mirth The echoing air has rung ; But a pale and sorrowing face looked out, From the glittering cup on me, And a trembling whisper I have heard, That I fancied breathed by thee ! Thou art slumbering in the peaceful grave, And thy sleep is dreamless now, But the seal of an undying grief Is on thy mourner’s brow, And my heart is chill as thine, Mary, For the joys of life have fled, And I long to lay my aching breast With the cold and silent dead I Counsels for thf. Young— Never be cast clown by trifles. If a spider break his thread twenty times, twenty times will be mend it again. Make up your minds to do a thing and you will do it. Fear not, if a trouble comes upon you ; keep up your spirits, though the way be a dark one. Fight hard against a hasty temper. An ger will come, but resist it strongly. A spark may set a bouse on fire. A fit of passion may give you cause to mourn all the days of your life. Never revenge an injury. If you have an enemy, act kindly to him and make him your friend. You may not win him over at once, but try again. Let one kindness be followed by another, till you have passed your end. By little and little great things are completed ; and so repeated kindness will solten the hearted stone. Whatever you do, do it willingly. A boy that is whipped to school never learns his lesson well. A man that is compelled to work cares not how badly it is perform ed. He that pubs his coat cheerfully, strips up his sleeves in earnest, and sings while he works, is the man for me. Evil thoughts are worse enemies than lions and tigers ; for we can keep out of the way of wild beasts, but bad thoughts will their way everywhere. The cup that is full will hold no more ; keep your heads and hearts full of good thoughts, that bad thoughts may hud no loom to entcf. MACON, (GA.,) SATURDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 29, IS ID. Law and Lawyers in Norway. —The ; administration of the civil law in Norway iis most admirably contrived. In every school district the freeholders elect a Jus tice of the Court of Reconciliation. Every I lawsuit must first be brought before this Justice, and by the parties in person, as no lawyer or attorney is allowed to prac tice in this Court. The parties appear in person, and slate their mutal complaints and grievances at length, and the Justice carefully notes down all the facts and I statements of plaintiff and defendant, and after due consideration endeavors to ar range the matter, and proposes for this purpose, what he considers to be perfect ly just and fair in the premises. If his judgement is accepted, it is imtnedia’ely entered in the court above, which is a court of Record; and if it is appealed from, the case goes up in the District Court, upon the evidence already taken in writing by the Justice of the Court of Reconciliation. No other evidence is adrnied. If the terms proposed be just and reasonable, the party appealing is to pay costs and charges of the appeal.— This system of minor courts prevents a deal of unnecessary expenses, and vexa- j tious litigations. Jhe case goes up from j court to court upon the same evidence, i J and the legal arguments rest upon the same facts, without trick or circmlocution of any kind from either party. There is | no chance for pettifoggers,-the banditi of the bar. Poor or rich or stupid clients cannot be deluded, nor Judge or Jury mystified by the skill of sharp practitioners in the courts of law in Norway. More than two-thirds of the suits commenced are settled in the Court of Reconcilation, and of the remaining third not so settled, no more than one-tenth are ever carried up. The judges of the Norwegian court are responsible for errors of judgement, delay, ignorance, carelessness, partially or pre judice.—They may be summoned, ac cused, and tried in tlie Superior Court, and, if convicted, are liable in damages to the party injured. There are, therefore, very few unworthy lavvers in the Norwe gian courts. The bench and the bar are distinguished for integrity aud learning. They have great influence in the commu nity, and the country appreciate the many benefits which have resulted from their virtue and wisdom. African Simpicity.—A poor pious ne gro woman, being addressed by her teach er on the goodness of God, was asked whether she was not astonished at Ilia mercy in giving Ilis Son, and llis conde scensions in giving that Son for her? She replied that she wtis not.—Supposing that she was not sufficiently impressed with the subject, and defective in the fine feeling of gratitude, lie continued to expatiate on the vastness and freedom of His love, giving additional emphasis to his language and coloring to his subject, closing again with the question, * What, arc you not as tonished at this V ‘ No, massa!’ was still the reply. Turning upon her with a degree of im patience, he said, ‘And why arc you not astonished ?’ ‘ Why, massa, me no astonished, because it he just like him !' Colloquial Wit. —Perhaps no kind of superiority is more flattering or alluring than that which is conferred by the pow ers of conversation, by extemporaneous sprightliness of fancy, copiousness of lan guage, and fertility of sentiment. In other exertions of genius, the greater part of the praise is unknown and unen joyed ; tho writer, indeed, spreads his re putation to a wider extent, but receives lit tle pleasure or advantage from the diffu sion of bis name, and only obtains a kind of nominal sovereignty over regions which pay no tribute. The colloquial wit has always his own radiance reflected on him self, and enjoys all the pleasure which lie bestows; be finds his power confessed by every one that approaches him, sees friend ship kindling with rapture, and attention swelling into praise. Tin; Visible Invisible. —You tell the company that you will place a candle in such a manner that every person in the room, except one, shall see it, yet you will not blindfold him, nor in any way re strain bis person, or offer the least impedi ment to bis examining or going to any part of the room lie pleases. This trick is accomplised by placing the candle on the party’s head ; but it cannot be performed if a looking-glass is in the room, as that will enable him to turn the laugh against you. ttf-w e see that one Mr. Henry Bioken has just married in Baltimore, a Miss Bank. So there is one more bank now broken ! Here is a little nest of contradic tions for the lovers of the curious. Our language is rich in the materials of pun ning:— Fast. —The word “ fast” is as great a contradiction as we have in the language. The Delaware was fast because the ice was immovable; and then the ice disap peared very fast for the contrary reason —it was loose. A clock is called fast when it goes quicker than time. But a man is told to stand fast when he is desired to re main stationary ; people fust when they have nothing to eat, arid fast, consequent tv, when opportunity offers. («6i2ig into ITXoui liiitsr. A few weeks ago, our friend Clark was i lyt"g sick with the bilious fever. The at ; tack was severe, and lie believed death was near. One morning he awoke from a ; short sleep to hear a hurried and smother ! ed conversation in the adjoining room, in which his wife took part. The first words : that Clark caught were uttered by his bet -1 ter half:— ‘On that ground,’ said she, ‘ I object to i mourning !’ ‘Yes,’ replied another, ‘but the world j looks for it; it is fashionable, and one i might as well be out of the world as to i lie out the fashion.’ | ‘Very true.’ ‘Here,’thought Clark, 'is a nice wife. She thinks I am about to die ; to be plan ted, if I may use the expression, in the cold earth, and yet she refuses to go into mourning for me. Ah, me!’ ‘Now that I am here, perhaps 1 had bet ter take your measure.’ ‘The unfeeling wretch!’ exclaimed Clark, ‘to think of sending for a dressma ker before lam dead. I’ll live for spi'e !’ ‘Well,’ mused the wife, ‘l believe you may measure me. I will let you buy the trimming, and let it be as gay as possible.’ ‘V* hut hoartlessness i’ groaned dark— ‘woman-like, though. One husband is no sooner dead, than they set about entrap ping another. I can scarcely credit it.’ ‘Of course, you will have a flounce ?’ ‘Two of them, and as the body is to be plain, I wish you to get the wide gimp to trim it.’ ‘How will vou have the sleeves trimm ed ?’ ‘With buttons and fringe.’ ‘Well—well—this beats all,’ sighed poor Clatk. ‘When do you want the dress?’ inquir ed the tnantua-maker. ‘1 must have it in three days. My hus band will then be ofi' my bands, and 1 shall be able to go out!’ ‘Oh! horrible—horrible,’ ejaculated the sick man, ‘I am only half dead, but this blow will kill me.’ Ilis wife heard him speak, and flew quickly to his bedside. ‘Did you speak my dear?’ said she, with the voice of an angel. ‘I have heard it all, madam,’ replied Clatk. ‘The mourning—gay dresses— fringe—everything O ! Maria ! Maria !’ ‘You rave!’ ‘Do you take tne for a fool ?’ ‘Certainly not, my dear.’ ‘You expect me to be out of the way in three days.’ ‘Yes, love, the doctor said you will be well in that time.’ ‘ What means the dress ?’ ‘lt is the one you bought for me before you were taken sick.’ ‘But you were speaking of mourning?’ ‘We were talking of Mrs. Taperly.’ ‘Oil, that is it?’ ‘Yes, love. You know she is poor, and the family is large, and it must inconven ience her to find mourning for them all. On this ground alono I oppose it.’ ‘So —so, that’s it, is it ?’ I thought you were speaking of me, and it distressed me. Let me beg you to be more careful for the future.’ Clark was out in three days, and lie now laughs at the matter, which then ap peared so terrible. A Scene not in the Bill —A Rat! a Rat! !—The Yankee Blade tells a story of a greenhorn who was absorbed during the closet scene in Hamlet, where the prince upbraids bis mother. A rat, taking advantage of the stillness, approached the peanuts, etc,, which lay at his feet, in the pit. —The countryman finally found the varmint nibbling bis shoe-leather, and pre pared for action. At this moment, tiie cry of Polonius behind the arras aroused the mad prince, who rushed up the 6tage, crying out: ‘ A rat! a rat! ! dead for a ducat!’ just as the countryman brought down, with crushing force, liis cowhide boots upon the offending rat’s bead, and leaping to his feet, lie cried with delight ‘ This way, mister! this way! Here he is, here lie is !’ at the same instant holding up his mangled victim by the tail, to tho view of the whole theatre. A Goon Maxim. —lndustry pays debts, while despair increases them. Clear as Mud.—An eminent lexico grapher defines the wcjrd net as meaning ‘ anv thing reticulated or decussated, with interstitial vacuities at equal distances be tween tho intersections.’ L#* ‘ llow is it that the trees can put on anew dress, without opening their trunks? It is because they leave out their summer clothing.’ iryAn exchange tells ofan excitable gentleman who, at a fire, headed a line of fire buckets, and as fast as they were pass ed to him, lie threw the bucket and all, in to the fire, crying all the while, “Pass on the buckets.” HPThe difficulty of acquiring our lan guage, w Inch a foreigner must experience, is illustrated by the following question : Did you ever see a person pare an apple or a pear with a pair of scissois ? I3F’Aristotle once gue alms to a very wicked man who was in distress. On being reproached for so doing be said, “1 ! pitv not his • hararter —but the waft. A True Woman. I remember meeting this sketch in the course of my newspaper experience, sev eral years ago; it has been credited to various papers, and 1 know not to whom it belongs ; but it is most excellently doue, full of interest, and I only wish the pre cept of it was a little mote fashionable. A young lady of rare mental endow ments and extraordinary personal attrac tion, had five suitors equally assiduous in their attentions. Unable to decide upon which she would bestow her band, she gave them notice to call upon her at a certain hour on a stated day, and each state his claims in the presence of the oth ers. At the appointed tima, the lovers arrived. Four of them were confident of success, but the fifth had a downcast look, and sighed when he beheld the object of liis admiration. “Gentlemen” said she, you have hon ored me with the proposals of marriage. I have, as yet, nether refused nor accept ;ed any of you. I now desire, that each of you will state your claims to my hand, hi order that I may know upon what grounds 1 may be justified in bestowing it.” A answered as follows ; “If you marry me you shall live in a splendid house, have servants and cariages at your command, and enjoy all the lux uiies of fashionable life. lam rich.” B spoke next : “My rival lias said very truly that he is rich, and lie osiers you a strong induce ment, hut 1 am of noble descent. My grandfather was a duke ; and although not wealthy, lam of a family, with whom an alliance would be considered an honor, by the wealthiest heiress of the land.” C stated his claim thus : “I am a gentleman and have now a rep utation that older persons envy. Next year I shall run for Congress, and I have no doubt of success. By marrying me your name will be handed down to pos terity.” D twisted bis moustache with the air of an exquisite, and said : “Angelic creature! ’Pon my soul I think you have already made up your mind in my favor. You know how ineffa bly I am admired. Who is the most fashionable dresser in town ? Who rides the finest horses ? Who frequents the most fashionable places ? Who is a bet ter judge of the opera ? Rumor says D, but ’pon honor, I’m too modest to insist upon it.” When it came to E’s time to speak, there was a pause. All eyes were turned towards him. Poor fellow !he was dread fully embarrassed. “ Well," said the beauty, “what say you, Mr. E ?” “Alas,” was the reply, “I yield to these gentleman. They have the advantage of me in every respect.” And he took up his hat to leave. “Stop,” said the lady, “make your statement, no matter how humble may be your claims.” “1 am poor—” “Go on.” “I am unknown tolhc vvoild—” ‘I have neither the taste nor the means : to dress fashionable. 1 work for tny live- j lihood. It is hardly possible, that 1 can ! make you happy, for 1 can offer you none j of the inducements held out by my rivals.’ j ‘I am to judge of that, sir; vvlial next?’ | ‘Nothing, only 1 love you, and I take a j newspaper!' At this, Messrs. A, B, C and D burst in-! to a loud laugh, aud exclaimed in one voice.—‘So do we—l love you to distrac tion—l take four papers! ha! ha!’ ‘Silence,’ said the lady, ‘in one month you all shall hear my answer. You may all withdraw.’ At the end of the month the five suitors again appeared. Turning to each in sue cession, the lady thus answered : ‘Riches are not productive of happiness. Boasted nobility of blood is the poorest of all recommendations. Fame is fleeting, and lie that has but the outward garb of a gentleman is to be pitied. I have taken the trouble to find out the names of the newspapers for which you all subscribe, and 1 have ascertained that none of you, who have boasted of wealih, nobility, fame or fashion, have paid the printer ! Now, gentlemen, this is dhshoncs \ I cannot think of marrying a man who would be guilty of such an act. I have learned that E not only subscribes for a paper, but pays the printer in advance. Therefore l say he is the man. I give him my hand, with the full conviction that he is one every way calculated to make tne happy.’ Need we extend our narrative? The disappointed gentlemen disappeared quite suddenly, and the lucky suitor was united to the object of his devotion and, in a few years, by honesty and industry, became not only a distinguished, but a wealthy man, and esteemed by all who knew him. Young men, he paid the printer. Is there no moral in this? Beautiful Extract. —Alas! how lit tle do we appreciate a mother’s tenderness while liviug. How heedless are vve in youth, of all her anxiety and kindness. But when she is dead and gone; when the cares and coldness ofthe world come withering tooirrheaits, when we find true sympathy, how few will befriend us in our misfortunes, then it is that we think ofthe mother we have lost. FIT’ An exchange says that a lady had bo much powder ou her face that she blew up her husband. BOOK AND JOB PRINTING, Will be executed in the most approved sty arid on the best terms,at the Office oj' the. SOTJTHEP.it I£TJSETJI£ —BY— WM. B. HARRISON. NUMBER 5 The Farmer's Daughter. —There's a i world of buxom beauiy flourishing in the shades of the country. Farm houses ere dangerous places. As you are thinking only of sheep and of curds, you may bo shot through by a pair of bright eyes, and : melted away in a bewitching smile that you never dreamed of till the mischief was done. In towns and theatres and thronged assemblies of the rich titled fair, you are on your guard ; yon know what you are exposed to, and put on your , breastplate, and pass through the most deadly onslaught of beauty safe and sound. But in those sylvan retreats, dreaming of nightingales, and heat ing only the lowing of oxen, you are taken by surprise. Out steps a fair creature —crosses a glade— leaps a stile. You start—you stand lost in wonder and astonished admiration! You take out your tablets to write a son net on the return of the Nymphs and Dry ads to earth, when up comes John Tom kins and says, “It is only the farmer’• J daughter”—What! have farmers such i daughters now a-days ?” “Yes, I tell you j they have such daughters.” Those hous es are dangerous places. Let rto man with a poetical imagination, which is only another name for a very tender heart, flat tei himself with the caim delights ot the country —with the serene idea of sitting with the farmer in his old fashioned chim ney corney, and bearing him talk of corn and mutton ; of joining him in the pensive pleasure of a pipe and a jug of brown Oc tober ; of listening to tho gossip of tho comfortable farmer’s wife, of the parson; and his family ; of his sermons and his pig, over a fragrant cup of young hyson, or wrapt in the delicious luxuries of custard or whipped creams. In walks a fairy vis ion of wonderous witchery, and with a courtesy and smile of winning and mysre rions magic takes her scat just opposite. It is the farmer’s daughter—a living crea ture of eighteen ; fair as the lily—fresh as May dew—rosy as the rose itsely—grace ful as the peacock perched upon the piles, there by the window ; sweet as a posy of violets and clove gillivers; modest as ear ly morn, aud amiable as your own imagina tion of Dosdemona, or Gertrude o f Wyo mtng. \ou are lost. It’s all Me r with you. I wouldn’t give an empty filbert or a frostbitten strawberry for your peace of mind, if that glittering creature be not as pitiful as 6be is fair. And that comes of going in the country, out of the way of vanity and temptation, and fancying farm houses—nice old fashioned plates of old established contentment. The Old Churchwarden’s complaint against Sanitary Reform. —Pish! What trouble and vexation, what a deal of both eration we are put to by this precious san itary reformation ! What’s the sense of ‘ saiiitdry V —no such word in the dictionary—an expres sion to the good old English lariguage quite contrary. In our district So extensive, if a drain’s at all offensive, it must instantly be men ded; which is monstrously expensive. And our dead we’re Forced to bury Some where in a cemetery, all because our churchyard’s crowded ; which isarbitraiv, very. If we’re satisfied what matter, though the churchyard were still fatter; if so we’re not partrc’Hr, what to other folks is that ’ere ? How the scientific asses preach about their poisonous gases, making havoc ’rnongstthe habitations of the lower class es ! Things our forefathers knew nought of, now they tell us fever’s caught of—oh! the times when sulphuretted hydrogen was never thought of! I’ve no faith and no reliance in fotit chemistry and science ; if you’ll act by my advice you’ll set the doctors at defi ance. We, the Board of Health supposes, might to make sinks smell like roses ; peo ple now-a-days pretend to have such very dainty noses. I’m convinced, by much reflection, that there is not that connexion, which we heal'd; so much on lately, ’tvvixt uncleanness ahd infection— My great uncle is abrewer : eighty.eight, and well as you are; all his life Has be been living close beside an open sewer t And the Thames with refuse flowing, its salubrious nature omvwmg, makes, no says, beyond comparison tho best of por ter going. Dirt and filth with health agreeing in the pig ’tis easy seeing; now, inside, a pig, I’m told, is very like a human being. But in outlay to engage us, would, I own, make mo outrageous, even suppes ing filth and dirt to be infections or cofl ! tagious. I I would go to such expenses on no rea sons nor pretences ; let us save the cash, l say, and take our chance of corisequen j ces. Manifest Destiny. — Dr. Leibeg says, ‘ YVomen are born to be married.” Uri doubledly. Men are born to die, too— but when you come to talk of their pre paration for the event, they are as little fitted for it as the girl for tho "future state” of ma rimony. Yet. vvom*n are born to be married—most of them, and to be ter ; nbly disappointed in their connubial rela tions—some of them. —The reverberation caused by fomrthing st iking upon the-empty world