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VOLUME I. |
BY C. R. HANLEITER.
F0 .SE T R f,
“ Mach yd remains unsung g
From the “ Literary Harvester.”
REMEMBRANCE.
A* the parting tear drop stealing,
O’er the pallid cheek of love,
As we hear the thunders pealing
Loudly from their vaults above,
Then like evening's dew distilling,
Which falls e’en fast and free;
—Till the pains of death are chilling,
I will fondly think of thee.
When the briny ocean's foaming,
Neath the bursting !of the tide,
And the mariner is roaming
Upon mercy’s wave to glide;
Then in sports of joy and pleasure
Or where’er you chance to be,
Thou canst find one moment’s leisure t
—ls no more, Remember me.
n©m&m .© e a
OF CHARLES
THE SECOND.
There is not in the British Isles a fairer
valley than the vale of Rolgrilley, nor one
that continues sweetness and magnificence
in such perfect and varied beauty. lts green
banks slope verdantly to the fixer side,
fringed with trees and watered by sparkling
streamlets; higher up, Cider-Idris and a
chain of lesser mountains point tlieir gray
summits, bold and bare, to the sky.. Snow
den peeps through many a vista—and half
way down the valley there is a beautiful
meeting of the waters of two clear rivers,
that, uniting into a lake-like stream, glide
smoothly onward to the Irish Sea. Thick
woods, noble country soats, and smiling cot
tages, sheltered and shadowed by many a
sunny hill, blend their beauty with the dark
rock, the scathed pine, and the healthy
mountain side, while the ever-changing light
and shadow, the varied colors, anil the light
haze resting on the park or floating dreami
ly in the very centre of the valley, present
a picture which few who have gazed upon
will forget, or scruple to affirm with us, that
among the hundred valleys of our happy
Isles there is not a nobler or a fairer one
than the Vale of Dolgelley.
Such, indeed, is the Vale of Dolgelley
when the sun is shining on its waters, and
brightening the verdure of the banks, but
when the storm sweeps from the hills, and
to the darkness of night is added the gloomy
shadow of the mountain —when every stream
1 recomesa torrent, and mingles its rear with
the long howls of tho blast; when the va
pory cloud haiigs in blackness, and shroud
not only the stars, but the twinkling cottage
light, there aie few places which create
such feelings of dreariness and desolation.
It was even in such a night that a single
horseman urged his strong black steed along
the rough pathway that formed the moun
tain pass —now clattering upon the smooth
worn rocks—now snorting and plunging up
to the saddle girth in the sjdashing-stream;
and again aided and urged by hand and
spur, toiling up the tugged bank, and then
hounding forward with unabated vigor over
the broken heath, in the direction of the
more level country that stretches to the
plains of Shropshire.
“ W hat, ho ! sir strangers!” cried a deep
toned voice, as the stout steed extricated
himself by a violent effort from the swamp,
and again moved forward. “What, ho! sir
stranger, whither so fast ?” rejmated the
voice, as three men well mounted is
sued from tho shadow of some scattered
trees, and joined the traveler who at the se
cond challenge reined up his steed, and laid
his hand upon his halter.
“ Who be ve that inquire !”• he demand
ed, “I have small time or pleasure to an
swer greetings that bode me hindrance.”
The party who addressed him gave aloud
laugh. “By Bucket's bones, fair sir, ye
speak as though it was a matter of thine
own choice to answer us or no.”
“ Ay, marry, and so it is. Nay, friend
handle not my bridle,” said the horseman
drawing a pistol from his saddle.
“ Hold, hold!” cried the other speaker,
and ye be wise, trifle not with such trinkets
as these. Put up the pistol, and thou shalt
know thy company.”
“ Nay, by heaven, it were more fitting
that I knew my company ere I parted with
my weapons. Trust me, I have right good
will to use them, were it but to repay thee
lor thy sauciness.”
“By my faith I doubt it not, for thou
teeniest a cock of game. But thou art in bet
tercompany than thou couldsthave bargained
for. Ilere on my side rules the worthy and
worshipful Obeifiali Strong-ln-faith, Cap
tain of certain pious dragoons in the ser
vice of the State; and to his left is the de
voted Zacharias Trust-in-good-works, an offi
cer in the same troop, marvelous and edify
lng disputants as thou mayest have an op
portunity of hearing. For myself, I am
known by the carpal name of Richard
Scatnpgrace, and am alsd an officer in the
ar, ny of the Parliament. Nqw who or
what art thou, in the devil’s name 1”
“ A soldier of fortune and an adherent to
the king, ,f
‘” A long-haired cavalier—be it so, and
whither art thou boupd 1”
“ To the Caetlo of Sir David Tudor.”
That thou caul not reach to-night; you
have many g lng mile to ride, and your
— - m
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steed pants and moves hut dully. “What
say ye to passing to night at yonder hostel
ry where you see the light V
The other paused ere he replied : and as
he hesitated, one of his companions wheel
ed from tire left, bringing his horse round
to the other side, a movement that passed
not unobserved by the cavalier, and, with
somewhat sorry grace, he declared his will
ingness to visit the hostelry.
It was a long low building, strongly form
ed of rough undressed stones. Its porch
had loop-holes for musketry—its windows
were protected by strong bars of iron—an
angry streamlet gashing over loose and bro
ken stones, which it had torn from the moun
tain above, formed a deep moat round the
building, and to add to its martial character,
the party had no sooner crossed the rustic
bridge than they were challenged by a guard
of soldiers. The cavalier at this could not
conceal his uneasiness.
“By our lady ! comrades of mine,” said
he, “ye have brought me to a fortalice in
stead of a hostelry.”
“ It is truth somewhat of both, and as oc
casion requires, serves for either; but that
little recketh, thou shall find good enter
tainment, and thy steed shall be cared for.”
It was now too late to retreat, and the
cavalier dismounting, and giving hjs horse
to a groom, entered the building followed
by his companions. A large fire was blaz
ing on the hearth, huge waxen tapers stood
upon the board, and the drowsy soldiers
who occupied the benches glanced listlessly
at the cavalier. The light showed him jto
be a young man of middle age, but strong
ly and gracefully built; his features were
plain, but animated by a keen and bright
eye that told of the gallant recklessness of
the royal adherent, and his long raven hair,
sparkling with night dew as it curled over
his shoulders, added a grace and beauty to
his whole appearance, lie had no sooner
seated himself than Scampgrace again ad
dressed him.
“ Sir Cavalier,” said he, “ you must even
give us up your papers and arms, but when
Major Holdtniburgh returns, and is satisfied
with thee and thine errand, in tire morning
thou mayest depart without farther ques
tion.”
“By St. George of England !” cried the
cavalier starting to his feet, “ this is but
churlish courtesy. You have invited me
hither, and now—”
“ Small words will suffice,” replied the
other. “We have orders to guard the
mountain passes, and to arrest all suspicious
persons. So give up thy papers and wea
pons at once, and save us the trouble of tak
ing them by rougher means.”
The eye of the cavalier flashed with an
ger at the cool, determined manner of the
Roundhead, and he seemed as if disposed
forcibly toefl’ecthis retreat; but a moment’s
reflection showed him the madness of such
an attempt, and unbuckling his belt, he flung
• his sword on the table, threw down his pis
tols, and declaring he had no papers to sub
mit, gloomily resumed his seat.
There was something in the air of the
youth that repelled closer communion with
his captors, and made them reluctant—they
knew not why—to come to extremetics;
they forbore, therefore, to search or lay
hands upon him, but in a more respectful
tone, invited him to partake of cheer which
had just been laid on the hoard. The da
vulier willingly complied; and while the
soldiery were thus engaged, he took the op
portunity of glancing carefully round the
room, to examine the features of the enter
tainer. They, however, presented no pe
culiar marks, beyond the usual dullness and
gravity which characterized Cromwell's
troops; and he was giving up the scrutiny
satisfied with the result, his eyes were
arrested by the piercing glance of a soldier
who, wrapped in his cloak, and seated at a
distant coiner, had, unobserved, been re
garding him for some time with fixed atten
tion. Just at that instant the door opened,
and a beautiful girl entered with a fresh
supply of wine. The soldier quickly re
moved his eye from the cavalier, and look
ed eagerly towards the maiden as she ap
proached the table.
“Ah!” cried Scampgrace, “ here comes
the daughter of our host, fair Ellen Wynne,
and I warrant for no other object but to see
the young cavalier; for well I wot, Ellen,
thou comost but rarely amongst us.”
She blushed at the words, and the cava
lier dashing his heavy locks from his brow,
gazed with admiration on the maid before
him. Long tresses of auburn fell in silken
luxuriance over her tight bodice—her hazel
eyes brightened with her smile, the lurking
sweetness of which played around her lips,
that, parting, showed teeth of pearly white
ness—her light and graceful figure—the
fawn like timidity of her approach, and the
look of interest which she gave the young
stranger, might have aroused the attention
of a more apathetic gallant than he.
“By mine honor, comrade,” cried lie,
“you speak well in saying that the daughter
of our host was fair. Wilt thou pledge me,
my pretty maiden ? for, on a soldier’s word,
I have never had snch a cup-bearer before.”
The maiden touched the goblet with bei
lips, and tho youth, raising it in his liand,
exclaimed—l drink to thee, fair -Ellen,
and good, leal, and trne may ho, lie who
kneels at tho altar with such a bride.’* Then,
draining the cup* threw it down l —■“ thou
wilt not refuse a knightly boon nor courte
sy,” added he,-rising front his seat add
MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 27, 1842.
drawing a sparkling ring from his finger,
which he placed on that of the blushing girl
—and then, with the customary gallantry of
the times drew her towards him and kissed
her cheek. But he had whispered some
thing in Ellen’s ear that drove the blood
from her face, and she stood as if petrified.
Her eye glanced wildly round the room,
until it met the keen look of the dark sol
dier in the corner ; the blood again rushed
over her cheek and brow, and she hastily
glided from the apartment.
The din of revelry was over in the hos
telry—thesoldiersslumberedon the benches
—and the prisoner sat alone in the narrow
chamber in which his humble pallet bad
been spread. The dull tread of the guard;
the howl of the blast, and the rear of the
mountairt torrent fell cheerless on his ear,
the sickly flame of the lamp seemed like
the waning-of hope, and the loneliness of
the hour added melancholy to the musings.
“ Fool that I was,” lie exclaimed, bitter
ly, “ to have left the open heath for this
paltry prison-ljouse, where I am at the mer
cy of my deadliest enemies. Would to
God I had iny good steed once more under
me, and the sword in my giasp, these prick
eared dogs would hardly again wile me into
thfeir lure. Fool 1 that I was,” he repeated,
as chafing like a prisoned tiger, he hurriedly
paced the apartment. A light step was
heard approaching-—the cavalier suddenly
paused—immediately the door of his apart
ment was cautiously opened, and Ellen
Wynne, pale ami agitated,” and bearing a
small lamp, glided noiselessly to his side.
Her lor.g Lair lmng dishevelled over her
heaving bosom—her eyes were glistening
with tears, and her hands trembled as she
placed tire lamp upon the hearth.
“My fair Ellen,” cried the cavalier, a
flash of joy brightening his features, “I
knew thou wouldst not betray me.”
“ Betray thee!” cried the maiden, clasp
ing her hands, “ never, never! but, alas; to
aid thee exceeds my power.”
“ Say not so,” replied the cavalier, “ the
eyes, my pretty Ellen, that can break hearts,
can also undo iron liars. Is their no soldier
of the.guard that calls himself the lover of
Ellen Wynne V
The meiden blushed at the question, but
replied without hesitation—“ there is even
such an -one, but him I dare not trust; and
yet,” continued sire in a musing tone, “there
was a time when right blithely I would have
trusted Ralph Lylod, but lie is altered now.
He fiirsook the banners of Sir DaviJTudor
to join the army of Cromwell; and if lie
knew the rank of his prisoner, the reward
they have put upon your head would tempt
them to betray you.”
“ And wherefore did. he change his party,
and why may he not be trusted ? Dost still
love the soldier, Ellen!”
“ Love him! no, no! I never loved Ralph
Lvlnd; but there is one who would not be
tray thee,” cried the maiden with enthusiasm
—“one who would die sooner.”
“ And who, or where is lie 1” said the
cavalier, smiling.
“ Alas !” said Ellen, in a tone of despon
dency, “he is far from here, and it would
go hard with him if he fell into the hands of
the troops of- Cromwell. But I have sent a
messenger to him, and were you once be
yond these walls, you would find Edgar
Vaughan a true and trusty escort,”
“ | shall have setae need of his services,
if I escape not ere Holdenburgh arrives, to
whom I cannot bo unknown. S’deafh,
couh’st thou hut procure me a brand, I would
even—”
Here a suppreßsed.scream from thq mai
den caused the cavalier to pause, and turn
ing to the door, he perceived the dark look
of a soldier, who at supper had so closely
watched him, fixed scowling and steadfast
ly upon the maiden and himself. At that
very instant the sound of advancing horse
men was beard, “They come! they come!”
cried iillen, in terror, grasping with both
hands the arm of the cavalier. Then turn
ing to the soldier •“ Ralph, Ralph !” she
cried, in an imploring tone, “ would you be
tray your Xing.”
“ Ho!” cried the soldier, in a voice of
exultation, “it is even as I thought.” But
as he spoke the royal prisoner sprung sud
denly upon him, wrested his dagger from
his hand, and held it gleaming before his
eyes, exclaimed, “ one word miscreant, and
thou diest!”
” The King! the Kir^!” shouted the
struggling sdldier, extricating his arm upd
drawing a pistol from his belt; but his ac
tive antagonist on the instant stuck his dag
ger in his throat, and hurled him dowu the
narrow stair-case.
“ The King! the King!” echoed again
the horsemen without, as the clashing of
aims was followed by the ring of a peal of
musketry ; and ere its tingle left tho ear, a
loud voice was heard to cry, “surrender to
the sokliers of King Charles!
“ ’Tis he !” cried Ellen, stmting op with
a sudden animation from the’drooping into
which She had shrunk with” terror, “ ’Tis
Edgar!”
“Surrender, dogs of CromweH!” shotted
the same voice, us the pike butts of the
horsemen thundered at the door.
It was spoil liurated open. Startled, weak
ened, and dispirited, the assailants oflered
but feeMefasiktancc, and yielded tlvemselycs
prisoners to the Adherents ‘
But they sought not thus to profit'by die
surrender. Rushing in, Edgar Vaughan
caught Eueaiii his arms; then recognising V
the King, doffing his bonnet and bending
bis knee, ho exclaimed, “ Mount, mount,
my lioge I The passes are lieset, and the
lieacons are burning on'the hills of Sharp
shire and Montgomery.”
It was no time for parley. A stout steed
was standing at the door; and Edgar, hur
riedly whispering to Ellen, once more em
braced her, and then led the way for his
Royal Master.
“ Good betide thee, fair Ellen,” cried the
King, “ and God speed the-day that brings
me power to requite thy kindness.-” Then
springing to the saddle, the horse-hoofs of
the little party clattered for an instant on
the rocky pathway, and then died away on
the distant heath.
‘len summers had Smiled on the moun
tain valley of Merioneth, and where had
stood the humble hostelry was reared a ba
ronial hall. It has long since passed away,
and there remains nos even a ruin tcv tell
where it stood ; but its founder and its fair
dame are not forgotten, and niaqy a proud
family in Wales can boast descent from Sir
Edgai - Vaughan and Ellen Wynne.— Court.
Gazette.
@ !E !L fL h feTT.
From the New York Sunday Mercury,
SHORT PATENT SERMON.
BY Off, JE.
The following words, by a Mr. Dibdins,
W ill compose the subject of rhy present dis
course:
TUe thing is this—in every station,
We’re born for pleasure and for trouble,
And, if you strike to each vexation,
Good Hope’s true cape you’ll never double;
But take the good and evil chcerly
And sum up creditor aad dbbtor—
If in this world they use you queerly,
Be honest and you’ilflnda better.
My hearers—no mortal ever was born to
iiartake of the sweets of pleasure alone.
’rom the cup of life, we are all compelled
to drink an admixture of joy, bliss, misery,
and pain; and the more mouths we make in
swallowing the dose the more bitter does it
seem to the taste. No one ought ever to
dash, in a suicidal manner, the goblet of ex
istence to the “round because it contaius’a
few drops of the essence of evil; for what
can be more sickening than a contiuual sur
feit of sweets! If you were to sip wholly
and constantly of thesaccharyie juices of the
world, you would sigh for something sour,
for the sake of variety; for variety, as some
philosopher has truly remarked, is the spice
oT life—and, without that spice, every meal
of man’s enjoyment were as flat anct insipid
as a bowl of soup composed of dishwater
and potato skins. A little morning melan
choly after a solid supper of mirth operates
as a moral medicine upon the mind, inas
much as it causes serious meditations to
purge the inner man of at least a portion of
that corruption which settles on the stomach
after an excess of folly. An all-wise Prov
idence has so ordered it that no mortal shall
reap a harvest of pleasure without gather
ing the tares of pain; and as for endeavor
ing to make a bundle of the one withou t col
lecting a handful of the other, you might os
soon think of bottling upu few pints of day
light for evening use.
My friends—the thing is, as my text ob
serves, ineverystatiou we are born forpleas
ure and for trouble—not expressly foreither,
hut for a little of both. He that is hatched
amid the desert sands of poverty is no more
a candidate for care and sorrow than the
babe which is born in a blooming paradise
of opulence, fondled in the lap of fortune,
and nursed at the breast of abundance. ‘The
pathways of both to the tomb are equally
bestrew n with flowers and beset with thorns.
The angel of evil wHI oftentimes spread his
dark pinions over the bead, of the proud pa
trician while the golden halo of joy encircles,
the poor plebeian. Then again the son of
independence may he seen dancing for joy
upon the grave of buried care, and singing
the §ongs of gladness, us merry as a cricket
in the cliimuey corner, while the half-starved
child of penury sits crying for a crust where
the mosquitoes of misery are os thick as fog,
and have hills long enough to bite through u
modern belle’s bustle, 1 think, my friends,
that he who dwells in a lowly vale of con
tentment receives a greater portion of pure
and unalloyed pleasure tliau die aspiring
dupe of ambition and w-calth, whose home
is fixed upon tho high hill of honop; for, in
tiro valley of humility grow the beautiful po
sies of peace, which give out their perfumes
to the gentle lireczc, wliUejlie rough winds
are heard to howl mournfully around the
mountain tower of fame.
My dear friends—the better way to get
uloirg smoothly and without stubbing toe*,
is, to enjoy .the pleasures of tho world like
rational beings, and not like
bear up beueatbits ills, with all the compo
sure, fort iiude and philosophy of a saw liorse
'under an oak log. If you strike so every
trifling vexaition while sailing upon thorough
’sea of life, and give up in despair \vheß the
storms of misfiirtune rage, yO\f can no thdrp
double the cape of Good Hope, lh4n yon can
safely ride tlitough Hell-gate in a bog’s
trough. But, tny friends, take every qvil
prick as OHSy'aa a pin cushion. Don’t r'avp,
jump, and Use profane language, wbeq you
are visited with your respective portions of
trouble arid care; but keep cool, and live
low oir a diet of patience and forbctirriace,
and all will soon be light again. Don’t be
snch consummate fools as to throw away a
sovereign because you happen to lose a pen
ny, nor lieat ah unoffending lamp post for
having the obstinacy to stand its ground
when assailed by your nasal protuberance;
for such agts show a want of wisdom, and
are the very extreme height of folly. When
you conic to look at the miseries distributed
among the great mass of mankind, you will
find that you have only your just proportion
of them; but if yon fancy that you have been
particularly selected as a target for the ar
rows of ill fortune, you will be afflicted with
mote plagues than ever were saddled upon
the land of Egypt. When the star of hope
is hidden behind a dark cloud of desponden
cy, 9mi ough t to have sense enough to know,
that it must, in the nature of things, shine
forth again in its wonted brightness. All
you want is to perserve for the present with
full confidence in the future, atid your big
burthens of wo will be essentially lightened;
but Oh 1 you weak arid sickly children of
doqty and despair! you lack the strength of
mind ami determination of purpose to pysh
your way through the briars when you find
yourselves in their midst!—and when sick
ness lightly places its hand upon you flat
right down, like so many dakes of doogb,
without even sufficient energy to spit clear
of"your own toes!
My hearers—push ahead boldly, uprighl
'ly and hopingly, and the dropsOf joy, astbey
descend from heaven, will not lie come fro
zen on their way* and fall upon your heads
iii the shape of largo hailstones of ilk Deal
fairly with yourfellcnv creatures—show kind
ness to all—don’t mortgage your souls to the
devil for the sake of riches, nor make your
selves unhappy .because others are more
prosperous. Above all, don’t run up too
long a score with your Maker, hut settle of
ten. I have no doubt hut that if I could be
permitted to look upon the day-book of
Heaven, I should see a long string of sun
dries charged against you, with the words
“Bad” and “Doubtful” written all dowu
the margiu. 1 hope, however, you will he
euaUJed to square all your accounts, both
heavenly and earthly, in a fair and honora
ble manner; and if you do receive some
pretty hard knocks in this world, you will
have the hope within you to the last of find
ing a better. So mote it be !
Tears are our Birthright. —There is a sa
c fed ness in tears. They are not tho mark
of weakness but of power. They speak
inorereb'iquently than ten thousaand tongues.
They are the messengers of overwhelming
g.rief, of deep contrition, or unspeakable
hive. If there were wanting any argument
to prove that man is not mortal, I would
Took fur it in the strong Convulsive emotion
of the breast, when the soul has been deeply
agitated, when the fountains of s feeling are
rising, and tears are gushing forth in crystal
streams. Oh, speak not harshly tothe strick
en one—weeping iu silence. Break not the
solemnity by rude laughter or intrusive foot
steps. Despise not a womnn’s tears—they
ar e what make-bet an angel. Scoff not if
the stqrn heart of manhood is sometimes
melted totears of sympathy—they are what
help to elevate him above the brute. I love
to see the tears of affectation. They are
. paifijfkl tokens, but still most holy. There is
a pleasure iu tears—an awlul pleasure!—
If there Were none on earth to shed a tear
sot me, 1 should be loth to live J_ and if not
one .might weep over’ my grave, I could
never die in peace.
AVe were lately conversing- with a beau
tiful girl who had just completed her educa
tion, and whotalkod eloquentlyand feeling
ly of her happy hours at school* which, she
thought, after life'would never equal. We
contended for old age as the poriod. of the
most pei feet happiness, when the passions
bad subsiiled, when a competency was our j
fortune, and friends around us, and wo were [
quietly waiting far the glad summons of
death. Is not tho weary traveller, said we, |
rejoiced as he approaches near the end of
his journey 1 That depends very much up
on what place “he is going to, was the reply,
with a smile full of meaning: We gave it up.
“ Come, Tommy, give us one of those
Tippecanoe songs that yon sung so well last
year,” said a gentleman tlie other day lo a
ipqsipal little chap.
“I tnust’nt, sir,” replied Tommy—“ Fat
her says Tippecanoe's dead—and.ji’he catch
es rpo Hinging Tyler too again lie’ll thrash
me like ah possessed,”
—■
There is much w isdom, and there is the
Spirit of true benevolence, in the following
extract of a letter from Pope :
“ I am rich enough, and can afford to give
away 100 pounds a year. I would not
crawl upon the earth without doing a little
good. I will enjoy the pleniure of what I
give, bygleinji it (dice, and seeing another
enjoy it. Wlieli I dje, I should he ashamed
to eiiougli fur a monument, if then
xocrc. a minting friend above ground.”
“ Yon are always in a bustle, Mary,” said
ah old nyiifnm to her daughter. . • .
” It’s the fashion; mamma!”
Let riot a stotte tell where I lie,” as the
thief HC hid f I*ool the constable.
• 5 ’ *T’U fiike ynfcr part,"’ * the flog said
when ,5e stole the cat’.* dinner: ,
| NUMBER S3.
¥. T. THOMPSON, EDITOR.
MARCH OF INTELLECT. J
When ! went out behind the bnrn,
*■ And got upon mykneo* ■
I thought that I should laugh to death
To hear the turkies sneeze. • 1
gg v ... a
The way they sneezed, it was nojojfcbri* fiff
They shook it out to kill, 4A **
The hen* In tones’ of thunder spoke, ~
Do keep the turkies still.
_ ~
American Wonders. —Two of the
est natural curiosities in the world are to be
found within the United States, and yet
scarcely known to the best informed of opr
geographers and naturalists. Thg dpfe
very beautiful waterfall, in Franklin county
in tile State of Georgia; the other, a Stu
pendous precipice, irr Pendleton distrlci,
South Carolina. The Tuccoa fafl is ‘ tohdi
higher than the falls of Niagara ; the column
of water is propelled beautifully overfl per
fiendicular rock* and, when the stream is
itjl, it passes down the steep without
broken. : gWt.’
The Table Mountain, in Pen
strict, South Carolina, is an awful precipice
of nine hundred feet. Very few persons,
who have once cast a glimpse into the al
most boundless abyss, can again exercise
sufficient fortitude to approach the margin
of the chasm: almost every one, looking
ever, involuntarily falls to die ground sengg
less, nerveless, and. helpless, and would in
evitably be precipitated, and dashed to atoms,
were it not for the measures of cajiftfßi ‘s&<l
security that have always.heen deemed in
dispensable to a safe indulgence of the curi
osity of tho visitor or spectator. Every one,
on proceeding to the spot whence it is usual
to gaze over the wonderful deep, has iii his
or her imagination, a limitation, graduated
by a reference to distances with y hich the
eye has been familiar. But in a moment,
eternity,. as it were, is presented to the as
tonished sehses ; and the observer is instant
ly overwhelmed. He soon recovers irotn
the first surprise, and in wild delirium sb*-
veys a scene which, for a time, lie is unable
to defiue by description or limitation. > ;
——
A good Joke. —The following is told on
board ship : There was a lazy fat fetfoW
among us, who was always lolling or sleep
ing on the lieu coops,’upon whom we resolv
ed to play a trick ; so Seizing an opportuni
ty when he was snug on his customary roost,
we placed ourselves with buckets of water
’just over him. At a signal given, her was
jerked oil the coop, ami soused from head
to fbot with such a full and successive tor
rent of-thc briny fluid, accompanied with
the cry of “ map overboard'l Rope,!
Down witli the helm !” &c., that lie actually
struck out, as if swimming for his life, till a
feflnre in the supply of water succeeded
peuls of laughter, brought him to a scssq of
his situation.
<T*fyr ,
rs ■ ■* .
Politeness. —lt is remarked by some- Wft
ter, that “ excess of ceremony shows want
of good breeding.” This is true. Nothing
is more troublesome than overdone ,pph(s
ness'; if is worse than an
steak. A truly well bred man makes every
person around him feel at ease; he
throw civilities about him with a shovel, nor
toss compliments in a bundle, as he would
hay with a pitch fork. There is no evil un
der the sun more intolerable than ultra po
liteness. / .
Nubothf. —Every oue’s experience n@u,it
have convinced him that there is no suck
arrant rasgal in existence as Nobody ! The
fellow is never easy but VvheoTn ljijgcldef.
Is a street door left on the jar at _ midnight
—a plate chest lansacked—a jcvyfl-bo<
stolen or mislaid—a window broken—an
orchard robbed—or a slander spread abroad*
ten to one Nobody b tlie guilty party, j Gs
all the offences that are daily connnltjed
against society, one half are copimittcsj.-by
this incorrigible scamp. [He makes all thq
pie iu our office, but he also distributes jjt.Jj
‘
Swimming. —There is one sjmplesciettti£
ic rule which, if suitably impressed upon
the mind, would save life in all oidiu&rjr<s£
ses; and for want of a knowledge of this
rule, very expert swimmers are soraeiitflfth
drowned. Tnergleistliis: Claspyouriaqpm
behind your back, make your nose the high
est point of your body, (or look towardafhe
horizon over your forehead,) and do not stir
a muscle, and you vvtfi infalibly boat.
Thus every human being has a life pre
server against water, if taught to use it. The
brutes, from their different conformation,
and especially from their want of the great:
rational development of the forehead, 11 oat
by necessity, and swim by instinct. It is a
pity am| a paradox, that Hietf should lose
tlieir lives by a more liberal allowance of
bruins.—Boston t'rceAm, J
Cousins.. —'1 here’s nothing like a coumbo
It is the sweetest relation in bumipt
Your dear family cousin; provo-i
kingly maidenly reserve, and her bewitching
freedoms, and the romping froKca, enth the
stolen tenderness oyfr the skeiu of silk that;
will get tangled—and then the long rides
which nobody talks about, apd the dong’
retc-a-teles which are nobody’s business, bad.
the long letters of which nobody pays th%
postage —no, tlrer© is nothing like a constat
—a young, gay, beautiful witeb ofajoMMMtfe
Ah ha !’ said the fa riser to Him<jr, • )Qh .
hoe saiJ the atom to the fanner.- Ephraim.