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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 ffc iFawrtlg 3icU).siMpcr * ©cfcotefr to Startculturr, cfiauics, ZS&ucatiou, jForetflu ausr ©omrsttc KtUcUCscucr, sct. 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.