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to find her anew home in the heart of the Talavera. She daily visited the spot where she had last seen him, ill the hope of she knew not what. The Dona Ysabel was in her bower, neither reading, nor sewing, nor Watching her flowers, but in a state ot listlessness, halt reclining on the cushioned seat, when sud denly her name was spoken ! It was not her father’s voice. The next instant saw the Dona close to the heart of the page, Jose ! Neither spoko, the heart of each was too full for words; dull words cannot express our strongest emotions, when the heart is too big for utterance, speech is but a mockery. Words came at length, and the page told her hoW much anguish he had suffered, and how he could no longer stay away from her he loved. That he came, hardly expecting to see her, and if he did see her, he feared he should find her changed. * And dearest Ysabel, thou art changed, not in thy love, but thou art but the shadow of the Ysabel that in days syne, bounded so joyfully over these hills.’ lie held up her hand — “ It was so thin and transparent of hue, You might have seen the moon bliine through ! The Lady Ysabel told the page all. How that she had consented to become the bride of the young Talavera. ‘1 be page learned the reason from her too, why she had con sented to become the wife ot one she could not love. He smiled when he heard that the Talavera must become master, either ot the castle and property of Ysolo-Rosse, or of the lovely Lady Ysabel. When Ysabel retired to rest that night, it was with a light heart. Day atter day wit nessed the meetings >.f the lady and the page —-and day after day witnessed her return ing bloom of face and buoyancy of heart. She was once more that glad, bright \ sahel as when the page first came to her father’s castle. The father, without inquiring the cause, saw his child happy and smiling, and he was satisfied. And she was happy and smilling, the smiles never left her little dimpled mouth, soon as one went another came. Even in her sleep, her joyous heart beamed from her face. The morning came bright and sunshiny as it had done just one year before. The cha pel was again illuminated—again were the guests assembled—and again, surrounded by her bridesmaids, came the Lady Ysabel in the chapel. But oh ! what a different Lady Ysabel from the one of the year ago. The bridal wreath encircled her brow, and below that fair brow beamed out the happi est pair of eyes imaginable ! What could it mean 1 There was heard among the guests a uni versal murmur of admiration as she made her appearance. So beautiful, so bright, so radiant a being they had never seen. Her face appeared actually to emit light— so truly did the bright sunshine of her glad young heart shine through. A slight movement at the great double doorot the chapel—and the bridegroom, the Marquis of Talavera was announced ! Quite as great a sensation did the noble manly figure of the young marquis create, as had the softer and more gentle one of the Lady Ysabel. The father seemed struck dumb in sud den surprise ! at length, burst from his lips, ‘ The page!’ Any of the old gossips of Spain will tell you the rest of the story —and what a joy ous wedding there was—and how every one said there never was so well matched— so noble a pair, as Don Juse, Marquis of Talavera, and his gentle bride, Ysabel! They will tell you, too, that the honey-moon, instead of lasting hut thirty-one days, did outlast thirty-one years ! and the love that was true to the sire could not but bless the son. So endetli the story of “ The Lady and the Page.” A MONKEY’S MEMORY. Authors generally seem to think that the monkey race are not capable of retaining lasting'inipressiotis : but their memory is remarkably tenacious when striking events call it into action. A monkey which was permitted to run free had frequently seen the men servants in the great country kitch en, with its huge fireplace, take down the powder-horn that stood on the chimney piece, and throw a few grains into the fire, to make Jemima and the rest of the maids ptmp and scream, which they always did on such occasions very prettily. Pug watched his opportunity, and when all was still, and he had the kitchen entirely to himself, he clambered up, got possession of the wcll filled powder-horn, perched himself very gingerly on one side of the horizontal wheels placed for the support of sauce-pans, right over the waining ashes of an almost extinct wood-fire, screwed off the top of the horn, and reversed it over the grate. The explo sion sent him half way up the chimney ! Before he was blown up, lie was a snug, trim, well-conditioned monkey as you would wish to see in a summer’s day j he came down a black, carbonated nigger in minia ture, in an avalanche of burning soot. The thump with which he pitched upon the hot ash in the midst of the general flare up, aroused him to a sense of his condition. He was missing for days. Hunger at last drove him forth, and he sneaked into the house close-singed, and looking scared and devilish. He recovered with care, but, like some other personages he never got over h‘l3 sudden elevation and fall, but became a milder if not a wiser monkey. If ever Pug forgot himself and was troublesome, you had only to take down the powder-horn in his presence, and he was off to his hole like a shot, screaming and clattering his jaws like l a pair of castanets. SUPERSTITION. The New Hampshire Standard records a most singular instance of the fatal effect which superstition may have on a weak mind. It may bo premised that the break ing a looking glass is regarded as the pre cursor of death in the family. The story is this : A lady arrived in Exeter, N. 11., last week, having a female servant with her. On the day after the latter broke a looking glass. She became greatly alarmed at the trifling circumstance, covered over the glass with a handkerchief, and turned it to the wall that she might not see it. Haunted by the superstituous idea, she became sad and dejected, and jvent to bed on Wednesday, two days after the accident, poorly and mi serable, retiring earlier than usual on ac count of her illness. The next day she was worse, and her mistress desired her not to get up. On Friday one of the most exper ienced of medical gentlemen of the place was called in. He found her free from bodily pain, but suffering under a perfect prostra tion of strength and spirits. She continued to sink till 12 o’clock next day, when she expired, a victim to the absnrd superstition of the dreadful consequences of breaking a looking glass. TITLES OF OLD BOOKS. The following are the titles of some of the books which were in circulation in the time of Cromwell. The authors of those days must have thought there was “ something in a name.” “ A most delectable, sWeet-per fumed Nose-Gay, for God’s saints to smell at.” “ A pair of Bellows, to blow o(T the dust cast upon John Fry.” ” The Snuffers of Divine Love.” “ Hooks and Eyes for Believers’ Breeches.'’ “High-heeled Shoes for Dwarfs in Holiness.” “Crumbs of Comfort for the Chickens of the Covenant.” “A Sigh of Sorrow for the Sinners of Zion, breathed out of a hole in the wall of an earthen vessel, known among men by the name of Samuel Fish.” “ The Spiritual Mustard Pot to make the Soul sneeze with devotion.” “ Salvation’s Vantage Ground ! or, a Louping Stand for heavy believers.” “ A Shot aimed at the Devil’s head-quarters, through the tube of the Cannon of the Cov enant.” “A Reaping Hook Well-tempered for the Stubborn Ears of the coming Crop ; or, Biscuits baked in the oven of charity, carefully conserved for the Chickens of the Church, Sparrows of the Spirit, and the Sweet Swallows of Salvation.” “ Seven Sobs of a Sorrowful Soul for Sin ; or, seven Penitential Psalms of the Princely Prophet David, wliereunto are also annexed Wm. Humnis’s handful of Honey Suckles, and diverse* Godly and Pithy Ditties now newly augmented.” The late Earl of Westmoreland. —A cu rious instance of Lord Westmoreland’s presence of mind is on record. His lord ship was twice married, and his first union was a runaway match. He had paid his addresses to the only daughter of the rich banker of Temple bar, Mr. Child. This gentleman being averse to the marriage, the suitor possessing the lady’s affections, de termined to run away with his bride. In consequence a postchaise and fair vn beau matin , carried away the content pair, but the affair having reached the papa’s ears, a pair of postillions and two pair of licet horses were soon in request. Stimulated by the lavish promises of the rich banker, lost time was compensated for by the postil lions, and the gay Lothario soon had the desespoir of beholding Mr. Child’s equip pa'ge neck and nock with his own In this crisis of fate, however, his presence of mind did not forsake him, and drawing a pistol, he shot dead one of the leaders of the pur suing postchaise. Bohne the horse could be detached from the harness and substitute procured, it was too 1 :te to pursue the fugi tives, who were quickly married by the grim high priest of Gretna. SCARLET FEVER. A correspondent says : “ The happiest effects have resulted from washing the pa tient in weak ley which feels a little slippe ry to the fingers. It is best to begin in time when the fever or redness first appears ; and with a cloth or sponge apply it all over the child every few hours : but if the fever has gone up, it should be repeated every five minutes till the heat abates. One of our children was getting better under this treat ment ; but his nurse observed in the night, he was again very hot, she washed him all over, and in a few minutes every trace of fever had left him. He felt cool, slept com fortably till morning, and has had no return of it since. Even bathing the feet in weak ley has a very soothing effect. “Bleeding and strong catliarics are had —nauseating doses of Ipecac good. If the throat is swelled, apply sweet oil, or a liui ment made of this and aqua ammonia, and drink freely of slippery elm, catnip, or sage tea. “If the swelling is very had, it is best to call the doctor—or blister, and apply a hag of lions dipped in warm vinegar round the neck from ear to ear, the sufferer breathing the fumes of the vinegar. Gargling a strong infusion of Seneca snake root or Cayenne pepper will do for large children or grown persons; and afterwards use vinegar or sq uills . —Gennessec Farmer. To the above we will add that the gargle should be made of red garden pepper, ho ney and vinegar. Sufficient honey to make it quite sweet. This gargle saved hundreds in Washington city some years since, who were attacked with scarlet fever and putrid sore throat, and we have within our own knowledge seen the good effects of its use —in some cases too, where the throat was greatly ulcerated. —Bhield and Banner , Mansfield. • Important Decision to Mechanics. —We refer our readers to the opinion of the Court of Appeals in the cases of John White vs. St. Philip’s church, published this morning in which it is decided that a mechanic’s hook entry is inadmissible to prove the perfor mance of ajob of work, unless it will be something ultimately delivered to the defen dant. The entry ruled to be inadmissible, in this case, was—“ To furnishing and lay ing 2544 feet of stone flagging curb and gutter stone, at 25 cents per foot, SG3G.” The principle settled by this decision is that a mechanic may prove by book entry work done in his shop and delivered to the defen dant ; but he cannot prove, in that way, work done outside of his shop and on the defendant’s premises, as building or repair ing a house, or any.other fixture.— Ch. Con. An bumble weed—a blade of grass, A hand divine displays, And seems to sigh, whene’er we pass, Its mighty Maker’s praise. TIHJiI IFASMOLY ©QTOILI. DYING SCENES. Cardinal Woolsey, when dying, by slow progress and short journeys, reached Lei cestcr Abbey. He was received with the greatest respect. His only observation was, “ Father Abbot, I am come to lay my bones among you.” lie died three days after. He said, shortly lie fore his death, “ Had I but served my God as diligently as I have served the king, he would not have deserted me in my gray hairs j but this i the just reward I must receive for my pains and study, in not regarding my service to God, but only to my prince.” M. de la Harpe, one of the first literary characters of the last century, who, forma lly years, labored to spread the principles < f the French philosophy, but afterwards be came a strenuous defender of Christianity, on the evening pr icceding his death was visited by a friend. lie listened to the prayers for the sick ; as soon as they were concluded, he stretched forth his hand and said, ‘1 am grateful to Divine mercy for hav ing left me sufficient recollection to feel how consoling these prayers are to the dying.’ Sir Walter Raleigh behaved on the scaf fold with the greatest composure. Having vindicated his conduct in an elegant speech, lie felt the edge of the axe, observing, with a smile, “It is a sharp medicine, but a sure remedy for all woes.” Being asked how he would lay himself on the block, he replied, “ So the heart he right, it is no matter which way the head lies.” The author of Hcrvey’s Meditations, when on his sick-bed, observed that his time had been too much occupied in reading the historians, orators and poets, of ancient and modern times, and that, where he to re new the studies, he would devote his atten tion to the Scriptures. i The triumphant death of Addison will he remembered with feelings of pleasure by all. sent for the young earl of Warwick, lie affectionately pressed his hand, saying, “ See in what peace a Christian can die.” When Lord Littleton was oti his death bed, his daughter, Lady Valentia, and her husband, came to see him. He gave this solemn benediction, adding, “Be good, be virtuous, my lord ; you must come to this.” The last words which the eminent physi cian, Haller, addressed to his medical at tendant, expressed the calm serenity of his mind. “My friend,” said he, laying his hand upon his pulse, “ the artery no longer beats.” Sir John Hawkins has recorded of Dr. Johnson, that, when suffering under that disease which ended in his dissolution, he addressed his friends in the following words: “ You see the state I am in, conflicting with bodily pain and mental distraction. While you are in health and strength, labor to do good and avoid evil, if you ever wish to es cape the distress that oppresses me.” The father of William Penn was oppos ed to his religious principles; but, finding that he acted with sincerity, was at last re conciled. When dying, lie adjured him to do nothing contrary to his conscience; “So,” said he, “you will keep peace within, which will be a comfort in the day of trouble.” Locke, the day before his death, address ed Lady Masliam, who was sitting by bis bed-side, exhorting her to regard this world as a state of preparation for a better. He added, that be had lived long enough, and expressed his gratitude to God for the hap piness that had fallen to his lot. Latimer, when lie beheld a faggot ready kindled laid at Ridley’s feet, exclaimed, “Be of good cheer, master Ridley, and play the man ; wesliall this day light such a candle in England, as I hope, by God’s grace, shall never be put out.” FLOWERS. Who would wish to live without flowers ? Where would the poet fly for his images of beauty, if they were to perish forever? Are they not the emblems of loveliness and in nocence—the living types of all that is pleasing and graceful ? We compare young lips to the rose, and the white brow to the radiant lily; the winning eye gathers its glow from the violet, and a sweet voice is like a breeze kissing its way through flowers. We hang delicate blossoms on the silken ringlets of the young bride, and strew her path with the fragrant bells, when she leaves the church. We place them around the marble face of thedead in the narrow coffin, and they become symbols of our affections —pleasures remembered and hopes faded, wishes flown and scenes cherished, the more that they can never return. Still we look to the far-off spring in other vallies—to the eternal summer beyond the grave, when the flowers which have faded shall again bloom in starry fields, where no rude winter can intrude. They come upon us in the spring like recollections of a dream, which hovered above us in sleep, peopled with shadowy beauties and purple delights, fancy broider ed. Sweet flowers ! that bring before out eyes scenes of childhood—faces remember [ ed in youth, when Love a stranger to s himself! The mossy bank by the way-side, ’ where we so often sat for hours, drinking j in the beauty of the primroses with our ! eyes—the sheltered glen, darkly green, fiill eil with the presume of violets, that shone, in their intense blue, like another sky spread upon the earth—the laughter of merry voices—the sweet song of the maiden—the downcast eye, the spreading blush, the kiss, j ashamed at its own sound—are all brought back to memory by a flower. Perseverance .• —The continual dropping of so soft a body as rain-water, will, it is said, jin time, wear out the hardest flint; he who ] goes to sermon every Sunday, has some ! chance of being converted at last; many Btrokes of a small hammer will rend the so lid oak ; and it was stone after stone, that built the pyramids in Egypt. What I would infer from these similes is, that in dealing with human passion, it is oftentimes not so much the force of any particular argument against vice, as its judicious repetition, that must produce a reformation, and it is there fore I wish to see evils combated with per severance, which may often be found even more effectual than skill. EARLY RISING. A single dew-drop, however small, fur nishes in turn gems of all imaginable co lors. In one light it is a sapphire ; shifting the eye a little, it becomes an emerald ; then a ruby ; and lastly, when viewed so as to reflect the light without reflecting it, it has all the splendor of :t diajnond. I3ut to ob tain this beautiful display of natural colors, it is neeessary to take advantage of the morning, when the beams of the newly-risen sun are nearly level with tho surface of the earth ; and this is the lime when the morn ing birds are in the finest song, and when the air and the earth are in the greatest fresh ness, and when ‘all nature mingles in one common morning song of gratitude. There is something peculiarly arousing and strentli ening, both to the body and mind, in this early time of the morning ; and were \ye always wise enough to avail ourselves of it, it is almost incredible with what ease and pleasure the labors of the most diligent might be performed. Iherc Is an awaken ing of the morning, which cannot be ob tained at any other time of the day; and they who miss this go heavily about their employments, and an hour of their drawling day is not equal to half an hour of the ener getic day of one who sees the sun rise. When, too, we take the day by the begin ning, we can regulate the length of it ac cording to our necessities; and whatever may he oar professional avocations, wehave time to perform them, to cultivate our minds, and to worship our Maker, without the one duty in the least interfering wish the other. — ll. Mudic. The Blessings if Education. —We arc told that this or that man should have an extensive education ; but another who oc cupies a lower place in society, needs only a narrow one—that the governor of a state requires a ffrst-rate education, while the humble mechanic Tias only need to study his last and leather. But why should not this man, though pursuing a humble occu pation, be permitted to open his eyes on the lights of knowledge ] lias lie not a soul of as great capacity as the former I Is he not sustaining the same relations as a parent, a citizen, a neighbor, and as a subjectof God’s moral government ] It is, in fact, a greater work to educate a child, than to perform the duties of a governor. What is it 1 It is f-> take the direction of mind, to cultivate the powers of thought, and to teach the du ties which we owe to God and to our neigh bor. Can a parent teach his child those duties unless he has learned them lumsclf ] Every one, no matter what is his occupa tion or place, needs an education, in order that he may have the properuse of his pow ers, and be enabled to impiove them through life. Comforts of the Poor. —The poor man | liashis wife and children about him—and what has the rich man more ? He has the same enjoyment of their society, the same -solicitude for their welfare, the same plea sure in their good qualities, improvement, and success; their connexion with him is as strict and intimate, their attachment as strong, their gratitude as warm. 1 have no propensity to envy any one, least of all the rich and great; but if I were disposed to this weakness, the subject of my envy Would be a healthy young man, in full possession of his strength and faculties, going forth in a morning to work for his wife and children, or bringing them home his wages at night. O O O o Source of Cheerfulness. —No man’s spirits were ever hurt by doing his duty. On the contrary, one good action, one teniptation resisted and overcome, one sacrifice of de sire or interest, purely for conscience’s sake, will prove a cordial for weak and low spir its beyond what either indulgence, or diver sion, or company can do for them. The Humlde-Minded. —They who are humble-minded have no quarrels, give no offence, contend with no one in wrath and bitterness ; still more impossible is it for them to insult any man, under any circum stances. . He who pledges without performance is a bank note, and a perpetual promise to pay ; but he who does what lie says, is gold, and the sole symbol of sterling worth. Written for the “ Southern Miscellany.’’ MONEY. Mr. Ilanlcitcr: I have headed this article with a subject which will likely attract the attention of your readers. At all events, it is a subject on which every man’s mind is engaged ; especially, in this period of press ing pecuniary embarrassment. The Gov ernment is in debt—its notes dishonored its credit sinking; and the President urges upon the legislative body to provide the ways and means-—the money—necessary to relieve it of its embarrassments, and restore its credit. The States are in debt, and Governors and legislators are upon the alert to raise the money to meet their plighted faith. The people are in debt, and they plan and devise the means, by which money is to be obtained, to liquidate their liabilities. So that, I have not selected a subject unob served by the public mind—but one, upon which are fixed most intensely the thoughts and feelings of the mass. But what is money? Is it coin? Is it pa per, convertible into coin ? The answer to these questions I will leave to be settled (if it can be) by the advocates of a hard money currency, and their opponents, the friends of the credit system and a convertible pa per currency. Both these classes of politi cal economists and politicians, however, agree in this, that money is the measure of value; and in this sense 1 propose to con sider it. This definition is true, however, only as it respects objects of bargain and sale. When confined in its use to this class of objects it is an important and essential element of com mercial and general prosperity. And it is the proper standard, by which to measure the worth of this class of things. Against a perverted application toother subjects, of this definition of money—an illegitimate use of this, its true idea—adopted by pub lie opinion, and acted upon by the great body of men, do I propose to direct the se quel of this essay. The great public have made money, to too great an extent, the measure by which respectability and station in society are de termined. This is not universally true —yet it is generally so. Do 1 make a false charge on public sentiment in this] Is not the man of wealth the man who is valued in society] Else, why is he so courted and caressed by the multitude] Does not the length of his purse determine, in too many instances, the extent of attention which is paid him] If he approach the shop of the gentleman of the yard stick and scissors, will he not make his politest bow, and wreath his face with choicest smiles] If he be sick, will not the gentleman of the lancet and pill box hasten, thro’ sunshine or rain, by day or night, to minister to his affliction] If, through any mischance, he become involved in the laws entanglements, will not the man of Blackstone and Cbitty, strain another nerve and ply another argument for his ex trication ] If he mingle with the great hulk of his species, in any manner whatever, does he not receive at the hands of his fel lows a deference, which is extended to him above others, who are his equals, and, in many instances, his superiors, in every thing else, except wealth ] Do not attention and respect meet him, wherever he goes! And is there not an elevation of position granted him, as a matter of course, by the society with which he mingles] And herein exists the reason why some men pursue wealth with such untirintr eagerness. ’Tis not the love of money alone; nor is it the fact, that money procures for them the necessaries and comforts of life; nor both these motives combined—hut because it elevates to station and procures rank, that they strain their in tellectual and physical constitutions to their utmost tension, to obtain it. This digres sion aside—and the idea is reaffirmed, that money is a passport for any man into the very bosom of society—yea, even to the highest elevations of social life; and this too, when other qualifications necessary, as one would rationally suppose, to command and secure its favor, are wanting; thus estafe lishing, beyond all controversy, that the esti mation in which society holds him, is deter mined by his pecuniary circumstances. — Have not others observed this! He is rich, cry the multitude—and the multitude and the elite hail him to their association, and congratulates themselves upon the acquisi tion; —no matter whether his mind rises above, or sinks below the scale of mediocri ty —no matter whether his heart he right or wrong—no matter whether his life be mark ed with bright or dark transactions. These latter are not the tests.—Though compara tively brainless, heartless, worthless, still he s received, respected, honored. Now, I ask, if this rule of appreciating men, is not su-ch an one, as deserves the severest condemnation, rather than the sanc tion, of tlie public] And is it not besides depreciating human character far below the standard, by which its worth should be ad jnged ] What] Measure a man —his value to society and station therein—by money ] A man, endued with reason and capable of thought—gifted with imagination to sport amid the beauties and sublimities of nature —with a heart in him, where all the loftier passions of his• beingi abide—a man—;o formed in his mental and moral structure as to hold intercourse with his fellows, and by that very intercourse, to enlarge the sphere of intellectual enjoyment, and widen and deepen the fountains of social happiness which come welling up from the broad bo som of society. Measure man—thus gifted and capable—with such attributes, intel lectual and moral—by money, as.you would determine the value of an acre of land, or a bunch of bobbin! Does not the very thought degrade him? I am not endeavoring to disparage the wealthy—to direct the envy of the multitude against the opulent few. Not at all. I care not how rich—how independent, any one may he. Let him have it—let him enjoy it —and if he chose, let him do good with it. No man is to be blamed for the acquisition or possession of wealth—if he have gotten it rightfully. Blame him because lie is rich? by no means. But to praise and caress him—to bend and bow to him—to honor and .elevate him—because he is rich, and to measure his value by that standard, arc certainly to be condemned. OBSERVER. Written fortlie “ Southern Miscellany.” CHAPTER FIRST. “Six days shall thou labor, and do all that thou hast to do. - ’— Bible. There is nothing more frequently men tioned in common conversation amongst the wisest and best of men—than the profligacy and idleness of the younger part of the hu man family. Anew fungled epithet, has of late years classed this portion under the term of loafers. What is the cause of so’ much profligacy—so much loafing —so many healthy persons in the prime of life umem ployed ? I will attempt an answer and try to prove what I assert. It is admitted by all discerning persons that we are all crea tures of imitation continually following in the wake of some person, or actuated by what we see in the concentrated actions of the communities in which we live. Do we not see all around us, men from the age of 20 to GO— doing nothing (com- i putatively speaking,) from day to day saun tering about our towns and villages, or lounging about their own homes. Thgy are perhaps sober, religious, intelligent, and respectable—the world excuses them—they arc perhaps rich—and it is generally said they have no need to work. Now I ask a reference to the command of the Almighty at the head of this article—are they labor ing?—are they doing all that they have to do? No! They furnish an awful example for the young and thoughtless—that a man can and may exist, and subsist without either labor or toil. Reader!—Did you ever listen at the con versation of any set of respectable men— sitting for hours, lounging at leisure and in idleness—(men who, so far ns worldly mat ters are concerned, could live well without personal labor) and did you ever sum up the amount of their talk, and after digesting it well, luno much, how very much was said, that had better not have been mentioned'—’ gossiping, slander, and political jargon, be ing nearly the sum total of this mis-spent time. I am aware that this assertion will be viewed by many with a frown of indigna tion, and repudiated on the score of its hk applicability to the situation of things as they exist. Perhaps it may be so. Ido not repine and fret because every man is not ploughing, or laboring at some mechanical occupation, or pursuing a professional life, toiling and striving amongst the great mass of human beings marching on to their com mon home, the grave? I only contend, that every human being ought to be usefully em ployed; when they are in the midst of a people who are mutually dependent upon each other for happiness and peace, and for the common and general welfare of all around us. I would only suggest one mode of cure- Let no man he idle. It is absolutely neces sary that some leisure and ease ought to be enjoyed daily. Common civility—atten tion to strangers —politeness; and many causes may often require a respite front regular labor. But I would venture my life upon the truth of this assertion; —that the happiness, Welfare, and peace of any com munity depends upon the regulation of their time in useful employment and in a close oversight of such duties as may be their poition in this life. Q. N. B. A chapter for the Ladies next week on the same subject. Q,. ‘Writlen for the “ Southern Miscellany.” SPRING. BY A LADY. Cold winter months are past and gone; Now lovely spring conies hasfning on, In vernal beauty crown’d : The little lambkins sport and play. The birds sing blithely on the spray, And mirth and joy abound. The lofty trees put forth their Moom, And Spring disperses winter’s gloom With her enlivening green : The rain descends in gentle showers, The earth teems forth with plants and flowers— How charming is the scene! Now let my inmost thoughts arise “ To Him who built the lofty skies And gave the seas their bound ;’’ Who spreads with an unsparing band Ilis choicest blessings o’er our land, In one eternal round. Revolving suns and planets roll, And speed their course from pole to pole, Until their task is done ; Then rise my soul, prepare tolly To thine abode above the sky, Where Jesus bids me come. 4 The varied seasons there will cease, And nought disturb our heavenly peace, But one eternal spring Will gild our days with brightest joy, Unsullied, pure, without alloy, Where saints and angels sing. Madison, Georgia. ; * : - :: SL. SOUTHERN MISCELLANY. MADISON, GEO : cHteitiaij, (fyfciuil! f() } is 42. OUR TERMS. We have been requested to state our terms ’ more fully than they are expressed at the head of our paper. They are as follows : j ’I he “Southern Miscellany” will be pub ! Halted in the Town of Madison, every Tues -1 at TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS per annum, always in advance. One dollar and fifty cents for six months, also in ad vance. Nine copies, when ordered at one time, will be sent one year for Twenty Dollars, or T wen t y copies for Forty Dollars . Par * money only will be received for subscrip tions, and orders must be (to us) free of post age. THE LADIES W ill excuse us for not alluding particu larly to them in our remarks last week in respect to correspondents. We certainly intended to include them when we spoke to the public, for, as in matrimonial alliances, so in our social constitution, we consider them the better half. We lay it down as an axiom in public and private economy, that there is no getting along without them. No great object can ever be attained—no cause involving the public welfare can ever suc ceed without their aid. Every movement upon the world’s great stage takes its char acter from their wish and will. As they go, so goes the world. As they say, so does the world. And even those monsters denomin ated woman-haters, yield to the power they detest. I he influence of woman is silent and un obtrusive, hut none the less powerful. It is the influence of gentleness, beauty, virtue, affection, and exerted upon the heart, the I scat of all moral action. The spirit of wo man is our good genius, which restrains our vices and follies, guides our footsteps in the pathway of life, directs our aspirations while pursuing the objects for which wo toil, and leads us to those fountains of rich and pure pleasure from which man was made to de rive his enjoyment. The unthinking or un candid may accuse us of flattery—it is a false accusation. We would not flatter for any purpose, however interested. The lan guage- we use is that of sober truth. And* while we rejoice that society has so safe a guardianship, may we not venture to ask that