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tbe fainting and terrified brides. \\ ilh bis
arms clasped firmly about the form of the
gentle Bianca, and his head bowed so close
ly above her that bis cheek rested upon hers,
stood the brave and resolute Leonardo.
“Yield the lady, or die!” fiercely ex
claimed one of the rude„st of the rubbers,
seising Bianca by the arm that clung to the
neck of her betrothed. “Yield her, sir;
for we arc no drivellers, and remember you
are unarmed. ’
“ Villain, harm her not. Take thy trink
ets and away !”
“Oh spare him, spare liim, 1 beseech you!”
died Bianca, seeing the club of the pirate
aimed at Leonardo’s head, “1 will go with
you —fake me—kill me —but oh, spare my
lord !”
Her prayer was unavailing. A blow
from the ruffian felled him to the floor, while
she was borne oft - in triumph to the vessels
that were awaiting their prizes.
Within the Cathedral the strife had now
ceased; hut not the tumult. The rage and
despair of the bridegrooms was unlimited.
Mothers, too, slniekcd in agony over the
fate of their children, and none seemed to
preserve the presence of mind necessary to
reflect on any course calculated to recover
them; none save the compassionate Doge.
Rushing from the Cathedral he lifted the
cry, “To arms! to arms !” and the citizens
witliin, animated by his example, followed
him out of the gates, and dispersing them
selves over the island, echoed and re-echoed
the cry, “To arms ! to arms!”
The inhabitants, most of them mechanics,
hurried together their weapons, and sally
ing forth from their shops, hastily assembled
such galleys as were in the harbor, and put
off iu pursuit. A favorable wind swept
them on toward the vessels of the pirates,
who were obstructed in a neighboring la
gune. Candiatio led the attack, and a des
jaerate fight soon ensued. The pirates, al
though better armed, were not equal in num
bers and valor. The Venetians fought with
the strength of a good cause; they fought
with Fury, with desperation, with madness.
It was not long that they struggled. The
pirates were overpowered, but not without
severe resistance. They fought till the last
man fell; and when the conflict ceased not
a single ruffian was left to report the fate of
bis comrades.
Foremost in the terrible fight bad been the
lover of Bianca. Though stricken down
by the blow be had received, he soon re
covered, and borrowing arras from some of
the inhabitants of the island, bail entered
the galley with the Doge, and hurt ied on the
attack. A slight flesh wound, which lie re
ceived inthe arm, did not prevent him, when
the contest was over, from lifting the insen- i
sible Bianca, whom he found lying on the
deck of one of the vessels, and bearing her (
to the smaller galleys, where lie succeeded,
after many efforts, in resuscitating her.
“ The cloud has burst, Bianca, deaicst— j
and thank heaven ! the danger is past. —
Look up —do you not see the sunshine ?”
She answered only by hiding her face
upon his bosom; and the vessel danced |
gaily on, with its precious burden, while at j
her side sped the other barks, containing the :
rescued hiides and their gallant deliverers.
The evening of the same day the interrupt- |
ed ceremony was resumed with renewed
splendor, and doubtless with a joy heighten- j
ed by the dangers which bad so nearly giv- j
en it a fatal termination.
This incident was long kept in remem
brance by an annual procession of the Ve
netian ladies to the church of Santa Maria, i
to offer up thanks for the preservation of the
brides.
Mfi'OEULAMY.
From the National Intelligencer.
SUNDAY SCHOOLS.
Messrs. Editors: My attention to this sub
ject tvas directed to the very sensible and
practicable remarks of a “ Citizen,” in a
number of your widely circulated paper,
and they brought to my mind at the same
time the fact that I bad recently met in look
ing over one of my musty volumes an orig
inal letter of the founder of this ever-bless
ed and blessing institution. It needs no re
commendation from me to ensure it an in
sertion in your columns, as 1 ain sure you
paiticipate largely in the means and influ
ence on which this noble work relies for its
success. The letter speaks for itself; no
criticism can add to the force and simplicity
of its style, or enhance the purity and sin
gleness of its purpose; it carries with it in
ternal evidence of the broad and expansive
benevolence of the good and great man who
embraces in the circle of his far-reaching
philanthropy the whole family of man. The
sublime conception that brought into opera
tion such a scheme for the amelioration of
human wants and the advancement of hu
man happiness, appears little less than in
spired, while it would seem to verify the
parable of the grain of mustard seed, spread
ing in its growth the fruitful branches of
unbounded charity. Were a monument to
be raised to the memory of Itaikes, bow
happily might it be said, as of another great
mind,
•"Sic monuincntunireqairis ; circumspice.”
Account of the Sunday Schools at Gloucester.
Gloucester, June sth, 1784.
Dear Sir : I have not bad leisure to give
you an earlier account of my little plan for
attempting a reform of the rising genera
tion of the lower class of people, by estab
lishing schools where poor children may be
received upon the Sunday, and there en
gaged tr. learning to read and to repeat their
catechism, or utiy tiling else that may he
deemed proper tr* open their minds to a
knowledge of their duty to God, their neigh
bor, and themselves.
The utility of an establishment of this
sott was first suggested to my mind by a
group of liule miserable wretches, whom 1
obeetved one day at play in the street, where
many people employed in the pin manufac
tory reside. I was expressing my concern
to an inhabitant at their forlorn neglected
state, and was told that if 1 were in pass
through that stieet upon SuriJuy, it would
shock me iudeed to see the crowds of chil
dren who were spending that sacred day in
noise and riot, and in cursing and sweat ing,
to the extreme annoyance of all sober dc
cent people who reside there or had occa
j sioti to pass that way. 1 immediately de
termined to make some little eflbrt by way
| of trial to prove whether it were possible to
j remedy the evil. Having found four per
: sons of respectable character who had been
accustomed to instruct children in reading,
1 engaged to pay the sum they required for
receiving and instructing such children as I
should send to them every Sunday. The
children were to come soon after ten in the
morning and stay till twelve; they were
then to go home to dinner and return at
one, and after reading a lesson, they were
to be employed in repeating the catechism
till half after five, and then to be dismissed
with an injunction to retire home without
making a noise, and by no means to play in
the street. This was the general outline of
the regulation. With regard to the parents,
1 went around to remonstrate with them on
the melancholy consequence that must en
sue from so fatal a neglect of their children’s
morals.
They alleged that their poverty rendered
them incapable of cleaning and clothing
their children fit to appear either at school
or at church ; but this objection was obvia
ted by a remark that if they were clad in a
garb (it to appear in the streets, I should not
think it improper for a school calculated to
admit the poorest and most neglected ; all
that I required were clean faces, clean hands
and their hair combed. In other respects
they were to come as their circumstances
wc uhl a lrni. In a little time the people
perceived the advantage that was likely to
arise. Many children began to show talents
for learning, and a desire to he taught. Lit
tle rewards were distributed among the
most diligent. This excited an emulation.
One or two worthy clergymen kindly lent
their countenance and assistance, by going
round the schools on the Sunday afternoons
to hear the children say their catechism.—
This was of great consequence. Another
clergyman hears them their catechism once
a quarter publicly in the church, and rewards
their good behavior with some little gratui
ty. They are frequently admonished to re
frain from swearing, and certain hoys who
were distinguished by their decent behavior
ate appointed to superintend the conduct of
the rest, and make report of those that swear,
call names, or intcriupt the comfort of the
other boys in their neighborhood. When
quarrels have arisen the aggressor is com
pelled to ask pardon, and the offended is en
joined to forgive. The happiness that must,
arise to all from a kind, good natured be
havior, is often inculcated. This mode of
treatment has produced a wonderful change
in the manners of these little savages. I
cannot give a more striking instance than I
received the other day from Mr. Church, a
considerable manufacturer of hempand flax,
who employs great numbers of these chil
dren. 1 asked him whether lie perceived
any alteiation in the poor children lie em
ployed since they had been restrained from
their former prostitution of the Lord’s day;
and, instead of spending it in idleness and
mischief, had been taught to devote it to
the improvement of their minds and the
learning that which hereafter might assist
in opening their understanding, to a sense of
their duty. “ -Sir (says he,) the change
could not have been mo ‘e extiaorditiary, in
my opinion, had they been transformed from
the shape of wolves and tigers to that of
men. In temper, disposition, and manners,
they could hatdly L>e said to differ from the
brute creation.
But since the establishment of llie Sun
day schools, they have seemed desirous to
show that they arc not theiguorant,illiterate
creatures they were before. When they
see a person whom they have looked up to
us their superior come and kindly admonish
and instruct them, and sometimes reward
them for good behavior, it has inspired with
emulation to amend many who were deem
ed incapable of any such sensation. They
are anxious to gain his friendship and good
opinion. They have now one whom they
wish to please, and, as they know this to he
effected only by decent and orderly conduct,
they are striving to excel. In short, 1 nev
er conceived that a reformation so singular
could have been effected among the set of
untutored beings 1 employed. They are
also become more tractable and obedient,
and less quarrelsome and revengeful.”
From this little sketch of the refonnatiou
which has taken place among the poor chil
dren of this city, there is great reason to
hope that a general establishment of Sun
day schools, supported by the attention of
a few active individuals, would, in time,
make some change in tlit; morals of the low
er class. Atleast.it might iri some mea
sure prevent them from growing worse,
which at present seems but too apparent.
I fear 1 have trespassed too far upon your
patience in this recital, but 1 could not well
comprise, in narrower limits, the informa
tion you required. 1 am, dear sir,
Yours, &c. R. KAIK.ES.
Tl 7// is a Newspaper ?—This is a ques
tion though apparently simple, which can
not Be answered in a moment. The query
might be propounded a bundled times, and
be replied to as often, with as many different
meanings, and yet with perfect accuracy.
A newspaper is a mirror which reflects in
telligence from all quarters of the globe,
as the first four letters of its name denote
N E W S—(north, east, west, south.) —
There is not an event which does not, soon
er or later, make its way, through a variety
of secret channels, to this reservoir of pub
lic information. From the great occurrences
of the wide world, to the little incidents of
private life, we are made acquainted, by this
notorious “tell-tale,” of what is passing on
die earth; and nothing can be more inter
esting, or exciting, to our curiosity, than a
newspaper just published from the press.—
It is laid upon the breakfast table in a folded
form ; and while we open its damp sheet,
we are moved with a prying, eager, anxious
anticipation, to which but the newspaper it
self can afford satisfaction. There is some
thing innate with out nature, which craves
so for information, that such a source of
communication as a public jouinal becomes
an object of unequalled interest; and histo
ry, biography, romance, poetry, or any oth
er species of literature, is almost invariably
set uside, when this great literary informant
makes its entree. On opening it we find it
a <d n s?■ in m m
to be a cabinet of curiosities, iu almost kal
eidoscope variety. So diversified, in fact,
that unless our mind is fixed on one particu
lar feature, we become bewildered with its
diversity, and are as much perplexed in
making a selection as a child while culling
the blossoms of a variegated flower garden.
“ Among the printed columns may be traced
A paragraph for each peculiar taste.”
Whilst we are disposed to philosophy,
divinity, politics, or what not, we are sure
to he accommodated with some “ titbit,” ac
cording to out fancy, and seldom is it that
a newspaper reader lays down the “ broad
sheet” without some gratification. A news
paper (viewing it ir, another light) is a uni
versal ctitic on society. Whatever is pro
duced is brought under the inspection of
the eagle-eyed scrutator. Books, music,
machinery, and indeed ’ every thing else,
natural or artificial, are made the object of
comment by the gicat commentator ; and it
is often a useful sieve in separating the
“chaff'from the wheat”—the good from the
“ good for nothing.” Nor is there a man
living (whatever his pretensions) who does
not finch and cringe beneath the castinating
stripes of a newspaper critique. A news
paper is often a spot of ground on which
talent and genius spring up and blossom ;
and, but for this fruitful soil, this cultivated
bed,
“Full many a floncr were horn to blush unseen,
And w asm its sweetness on the desert air.”
A newspaper (in another character) is a
mighty exposer and corrector of the public
abuses and offences. Like the famed Argus,
its eyes are ever on the watch ; and few er
rors or delinquencies can escape their con
stant vigilance. But to represent a public
journal in all its phrases would be an inter
minable task. What, then, must he the na
ture of the operations by which it is pro
duced ! What diversity of gift—what won
derful instruments of art, and what astonish
ing facility must he called forth to its ac
complishment ! Were it a vulgar detail of
casualities, collected and communicated
in a loose, imperfect style, we might regard
it as an olkject of less astonishment; but
when we know it to he a source of almost
adinfnitum intelligence presented in a cor
rect and interesting form of literature, we
can scarcely be persuaded that so vast a
project is the accomplishment of
Jour hours.
Labor. —The most contemptible creature
upon the footstool of God, is the idle young
man of fashion. He is a fool, for he does
nothing for himself or for society. There
is no reason why any one should like him—
why the world should wish his presence or
miss his absence. He is a knave, for he
eats without producing—lives by his own
fraud, or that of someone to which he is
accessary. It is the law of nature that ev
ery man shall produce at least as much as
he consumes, the fashionable exquisite pro
duces nothing—the world is just as much
the worse for every garment he wears, and
every meal lie eats.
We cannot pass the above, which we clip
from an exchange paper, without express
ing our hearty concurrence. There are
few communities which are not more or less
infested with these meanest of all animals;
and if they knew what a despicable figure
they cut, and how heartily they are despised
by all the better portion of society, and by
j that, we mean those who are willing to do
something for a living, we are sure they
would skulk into olisurity and hide them
selves, instead of grinning at the corner of
streets, or about hotel doors, flourishing their
canes and white gloves —discussing the mer
its of different brands of cigars, or cham
pagne —the fit of a coat, pair of pants, or
boots, which some honest mechanic has
been gulled out of a hundred promises, and
as rnanv lies. But this is only one of his
aspects.
Look in at any bat-room, you will find
him there, if his account on the slate is not
full. Then, in the evening if he can get a
horse on tick from the keeper of a livery
stable, he is in his glory. He little thinks
as he prances along the streets, what trouble
he is giving the honest citizens. Each one
as he passes is in a quandary, trying to an
swer the questions which rise unbidden in
his mind. “ Where will that fellow’s career
end ? Or, how does that young fool expect
to get through the world ? Will he find his
way to the penitentiary ? Or will it be wound
up iu a brawl at a house of ill-fame, a gam
bling house, or a grog-shop I What are the
feelings of the father and mother of the
young scape-grace, after ascertaining that
they have lost all control over him, and that
advice is of no use ? These and many other
questions puzzle the mind of every honest
citizen, as he meets this most worthless and
mischievous class of the gems homo in his
perambulations.
To the honest mechanic, and all those
who are sponged upon by the above gentry,
we give this advice : whenever they want
anything on credit, just tell them that the
polish of their hoots, and the gloss of their
soap-locks have ceased to dazzle—so fork
over the ready, and take what you want. —
Savannah Republican.
A Temperance Wedding. —The Boston
Transcript of Friday says: “There was a
wedding in the Hall of the Washingtonians,
in Court street, last evening. The spacious
hall was crowded almost to suffocation, at
an early hour, with lady and gentlemen tee
totallers who assembled to witness the cere
monies. After the arrival of the Rev. Mr.
Neale and the “ happy couple,” a teetotal
song was sung by Mr. Plympton. The
♦lev. Mr. Neale then,after a few appropriate
remarks, performed the solemn ceremony,
and offered a prayer; after which the bride
groom made a short speech, in which he ex
pressed a hope tliut he might keep the pledge
of conjugal love as faithfully as lie had that
of total abstinence from all intoxicating
drinks. The President of the Society then
presented to the bride and bridegroom a
! glass of pure cold water, desiring that they
would both partake of it, as henceforth, they
were to drink of the cup of joy and sorrow
together. Sentiments were then offered
and drank in bumpers of cold water —songs
! were sung—and the happy pair, accompan
; ied by a few friends, retired amid the cheers
of the audience.”
Riches and Poverty. — A man without a
penny has yet what all the wealth in the
world cannot purchase—the human form
and the human nature. With these, if ho
has health and resolution, he inay become
any thing, except what can be reached only
by innate genius or a higher order of men
tal gifts than his own. Give him education,
you make him a gentleman ; religion and
moiality, and you (ill him with the senti
ments of a Christian. Let no one say, the
poor scholar or the poor gentleman is hurt
by his education and manners. Pride often
distorts those characters, hut they ought to
be above pride. A cultivated mind, so far
from being trammelled by a narrow income
flies beyond it and tastes the quality of the
fine intellect in faculty of selection. The
wisest economy is the nicest taste. Profu
sion is tasteless. A man of fine judgment
and small income will actually live in a more
genteel style than a rich, coarse minded na
bob. He may have fewer articles of ex
pense, but they will he choice and delicate.
His style of living will be frugal yet ele
gant; which is’more pleasing than extrava
gance without judgment. A genteel taste
in living eschews extravagance, pomp and
superfluity as essentially vulgar. There is
not a more pitiful sight than a mean spirit
ed man in a splendid house. His soul is
too small for it. On the other hand, the
great cannot be contained within the most
magnificent palaces, and yet may content
itself in the most humble mansion. The
great and good poor man, in the modest and
retired parlor, affords a more noble specta
cle than a king on a pyramid.
i Settlement of Florida. —Now that our In
dian difficulties are over, we look fotward
to the speedy settlement of East Florida.
No part of the L nited States holds out such
temptations to emigrants as this peninsula
whether we regard the fertility of its soil
—the mildness of its climate, or the rich
ness of its productions. And these advan
tages are not confined to any class of emi
grants —there is a field open to the poor
man, with limited means, as well as to the
wealthy jdanter. To the former, the Occu
pation Bill offers a home for nothing, where
he may revel in abundance and acquire
wealth. To the latter, our rich Sugar and
Cotton lands, and our almost tropical cli
mate, present inducements which are found
in no other portion of our country. The
salubrity of East Florida is well established
by the experience of the Army during the
last seven years, and is attested in his able
reports and statistics by the Surgeon Gene
ral of the Army. Our waters abound with
the greatest variety and abundance of the
finest fish, and game of every description is
to be found in our forests. Oranges and
nearly all the tropical fruits may be profit
ably cultivated, and our soil is admirably
adapted to the production of Tobacco, equal
to tlie best raised in the Island of Cuba.
Our peninsular position confers upon us
immense advantages—affording us a choice
either by the Gulf or the Atlantic, and in
addition to ibis our fine navigable rivers
penetrate like great arteries to the very heart
of our country.
The great channel of communication be
tween tlie North and New Orleans, must
now before long pass through East Florida.
A rail road of only eighty miles from St.
Johns River to the Gulf) will connect the
Northern cities and New Orleans by a con
tinuous rail road and steamboat route, which
can he easily passed over in six days ! This
rail road will pass over a country already
graded by nature, and the principal materi
als of the best kind are on the spot. The
whole country, the North as well as the
South, will require this communication to
he opened as soon as practicable. By it a
vast quantity of the lighter articles, * now
sent by the long and dangerous navigation
of our Lakes, will find their way to New
Orleans, and the Mail will be transported in
half the time consumed on the present
routes !— St. Augustine News.
Giving the Countersign. — At the “ Wolf
Hunter’s” camp, at Corpus Christi, in Te
xas, the guard, one night, saw somebody a
little way off', and hailed him—“ Who’s
there?” No answer. “ Who’s there ?” No
answer still. “ Who’s there, I say ?—who
ever you be, if you don’t advance and sav
‘ Texas,’ I’ll blow you to h—11!” “ Texas,
then,” said the other, “if that is all you
want.” “ Well, d—n you, why didn’t you
say it sooner ?” The first instance on camp
record we imagine, where the guard gave
instead of having demanded thecountersign.
Another laughable, though well nigh fatal
circumstance occurred with the night guard
about the same time. A simpleton stole
from camp, and wandered near the guard,
who raised LiS firelock and snapped it seve
ral times at the individual, without hailing
him—he, all the while, slowly and cautious
ly advancing on the snapping guard, and at
length, approaching near enough, whisper
ed, “What are you snapping at?” The
guard recognised the voice, lowered his
piece, cursed awhile, and swore that “such
an infernal fool ought to be shot, any how.”
To use his own emphatic and excited reply
to the question from the well nigh shot one
—“ l was snapping at you, you sense
less fool, and if you don’t scatter into quar
ters, I’ll kill you any how, you infernal green
gudgeon.”
Strength of the Muscles. —Dr. Mussey, a
number of years ago, met with a case where
the arm and shoulder blade were torn from
the body of a robust young man, of sixteen
years of age, while he was at work in a cotton
factory. There was scarcely any hemorr
hage—and the patient soon recovered his
health. The whole machinery of the mill
having been arrested, and held in check
some seconds before the integuments and
muscles gave way, he was thus enabled to
test the strength and power o( these muscles.
He found by actual experiment, that the
weight which would just balance the ma
chinery. was eight hundred and thirty
pounds ! This he is disposed to regard as
an approximation to the force employed in
the dismembering operation—and it seems
probable that for a short space of time, the
large pectoral and latissimus dorsi muscles,
forming the anterior and posterior margins
of tlie uxillur, sustained themselves against
that immense weight. —Boston Journal.
The Beech Tree has always escaped the
effect of atmospheric electricity. This fact,
says a writer in the Cultivator, has been no
ticed for more than a bundled years, both
in Europe and this country, and improve
ment might and ought to be made of it by
planting and rearing beeches near and
around the dwelling houses and barns of
our farmers for the immunity of cattle as
well as human beings fiom the voilence of
lightning. Let a beech grove, as easy to tear
as a plantation of butternuts, accompany
eveiy inhabited spot, and let solitary beech
trees arise here and there over every farm
or plantation. How often do we read of
some flocks of sheep, some too or three
horses or cattle, or men being killed by light
ning, who had taken shelter under some oak,
maple, orhickery tree! And yet few farmers
suffer a beech tree to stand, notwithstanding
it is as shady and ornamental as the maple.
“ Woodman, spare that tree.”
The Poles on Fire. —Professor Silliman
is of the opinion that volcanic fires at the
poles are plenty as blackberries in June—
we suppose because the poles require fire
to keep them, like other extremities, from
freezing and falling off. Coal with its char
acteristic fossil vegetables, has been found in
Melville Islands, far within the northern
polar circle, and Capt. Ross, in 78 deg. of
south latitude,has recently discovered a pow
erful volcano, in great activity, amidst the
eternal snows and glaciers of the southern
pole, flashing vividly upon the frozen An
tarctic sky from a crater at the elevation of
51,000 feet—a truly polar Teneriffe. Thus
it appears that the polar lands of both hemis
pheres are glowing with intense igneous ac
tion. Iceland is a vast colossal regionof vol
canic fire ; the antipodal polar zones are sus
tained, it may be, upon subterranean seas of
nulled rock, covered by mountains and gla
ciers of eternal ice and snow, through which
internal fires force here and there, an open
ing, and thus reveal the secrets of the nether
abyss.— Saturday Post.
Industrial Enterprise. —Am on? the arti
cles exhiliting at the Fair of the American
Institute is a piece of Morocco a:.d a pair
of Ladies’ JSlmes, whose brief histoiy speaks
volumes for the perfection to wlrch our
home manufactures have been brought hv
the aids of science and the native ingenuity
of our mechanics. Mr. Burbank of the
firm of Wm. Bui bank & Cos.. 15 Jacob
street, killed two goats on the morning of
ISth instant, at 1 o’clock. The skins of the
goats passed through the various processes
of beaming, liming, tanning, shaving, finish
ing into Morocco, and the work was com
pleted by 10 o’clock A. M., a space of 0
hours. The usual time occupied in manu
facturing tlie article is from 30 to GO days
—and this work was done exclusively by
one man. The morocco when finished was
brought from the factory of Messrs. Bur
bank & Cos., at Gowanus to 400 Broadway,
a distance of 15 miles, where a pair of Slices
were made from one of the skins, and plac
ed in the Fair before half past 1 o’clock.—
The curious in such matters can see the Mo
rocco and the Shoes in the Saloon at Niblo’s
near the main entrance. This is one of the
many improvements in manufactures grow
ing out of a due encouragement to home
productions.— N. Y. Tribune.
Heroes rs the Revolution. —There are in
the United States just one hundred soldiers
of the Revolution on the pension list over
one hundred years of age. The oldest man
on the list is Michael Haro, of Union coun
ty, Pennsylvania, who is in liis 115th year.
—Na t ional In telligencer.
That farmer in Maine, who liked white
cows and heifers, because they were some
times bandy to find of a dark night, has be
come disgusted with the breed, and repu
diates that kind of cattle entirely ; for he
now says he can’t even find them in the day
lime.
Trade in New York.- —The New Yoik
Express says : *• The fall season is rapidly
drawing to a close, and it is admitted on all
hands that the season has been an unusually
light one. Indeed there is a general com
plaint that the credits that were given last
spring, have not yet been met with any de
gree of promptness, particularly those at
the far South. It is very apparent, with the
low price of produce, the country is not in
condition to buy many goods.”
A beautiful Incident. —The Washington
ians had a convention at Medina, Ohio, last
week. During its progress, Judge Smith,
who had, about a year previous, been di
vorced from his wife, for bis intemperate
habits, and brutal neglect and abuse of his
family, made a speech at the close of which
lie was re-united to his wife—the minister
exclaiming, “ What God has re-joined, let
neither man nor alcohol sever !”
Ex-President Jackson. —The Nashville
Whig of the 15th instant says : “We un
derstand that Gen. Jackson received a pain
ful injury in the forehead, on Thursday last,
by tlie upsetting of Major Donelson’s car
riage, near the Hermitage, in which he was
riding out to visit a sick neighbor. The ac
cident was caused by the restiveness of the
horses, which the driver was unable to con
trol. We hope the injury will not prove a
serious one.”
Great commotion exists in Bennington,
Vermont. A letter is in the office address to
“the prettiest girl in Bennington.” Inconse
quence all the petticoats are in a flutter—
and one venerable spinster has changed her
red wigforatich auburn in hopes of win
ning tlie prize.—There is great tribulation
and a hot fever of curiosity, raging in the
bosom of the dear creatures.
A French paper tells us of a miller’s
daughter at Pamponne,so pretty and socruel,
that°the sighs of her numerous admirers
would be sufficient to turn her father’s mill.
The human heart in its weakness and
noble sympathies, resembles a broken harp,
which never play* a perfect tune, but mingles
strains of the sweetest melody with many
discords.
©&O©D M A L ■
For the “Southern Miscellany,”
STEP-MOTHERS.
Alas ! for her in the horoscope of whose
destiny appears the step-mother’s star.—
Better that she were never born, or, if born
that she were ten times a widow, or even
all her life an old maid, than that she should
be a step-mother. Is there any position in
which lovely woman can be placed in which
she is so completely divested of all her en
dearing attributes ? Is there any station in
life in which a single step entails such dire
ful consequences ? A mother is the nearest
earthly approach to heavenly divinity ; but
one step beyond—a step-mother—is an im.
measurable stride,away from all that is love
able in the maternal relation. Poor woman!
how often lias she, at the altar, sealed for
herself a destiny worse than death, by be
coming the representative of the departed
mother! What if she loves, and is kind and
devoted to those left to her charge ? she is
a usurper of the maternal throne, and in the
degree that love warmed the hearts of the
little* subjects to loyalty to her who first held
the reins of government, hale, jealousy, con
tempt, and all tlie ruder passions of our na
ture excite to revolt and discord. Who that
has lived long enough to observe, has not
witnessed how vain is the effort of a woman,
however amiable, however capable she may
he in all the femenine virtues, to give satis
faction as a step-mother ? If, by “her kind
ness, she succeeds iu winning the confidence
and affection of her young charge, is there
not forever some loving aunt, or doating old
grand-mother, who can discover a difference
in the health and appearance of her little re
lation—who is ready to notice how dejected
the child looks, and how bad its clothes fit,
and a thousand little things that will, in time,
gnaw away the patience of an angel ? And
then, if she dares to remonstrate, or, goaded
to desperation, she should evince the slight
est degree of temper, she becomes the gen
uine step-mother; and in spite of all her
characteristic amiability entails upon lierself
the hatred of scores of relations, kith and
kin, of every degree. Then tlie step-child
is taught eveiything hut obedience and af
fection to his “old step-mother.”
“ She aitit your mother, Johny, and don’t
you mind her; and if she touches you, you
must tell aunty, and grand ma ’ll take you
home to her house,” and “you must tell
your pa of her every time she scolds you,”
and a thousand other such ebulitions of mis
guided affection are breathed in Johny’s ear,
till lie is filled with ineffable hatred and con
tempt for her whose misfortune it has been
to sustain towards him the relation of moth
er by marriage with his father. This hatred
is sure to become mutual. No mortal wo
man can bear patiently the inter meddling of
her husband’s relations with her domestic
government. Site becomes vindictive and
irrascible ; in short, she becomes all we look
for in a step-mother.
Olliers there are, who are step-mothers
from the firsi—probably most of them would
come under this denomination ; indeed, wo
have generally found all grown-up step-chil
dren unanimous in this opinion. We know
ours was. She was a step-mother from the
first day sl ie stepped under our roof. She
bad children of her own, which circumstance
perhaps exerted some influence upon her
character. We were very young tlicu, and
can scarcely remember much about her, but
to the last day of our life we shall never for
get the first time we asked her for a “ tater
to roast” between meals; or rather, we will
never forget
THE LOOK Sill* GAVE IS.
For the “ Southern Miscellany.”
ARISTOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY.
Mr. Editor —l offer you my views upon
some of the different features which cliaiac
terize Aristocracy and Democracy—not,
however, by any means insulting your col
umns by favoring or giving preference to
any political party.
We,sir, have an upper class—if they may
be called a class — properly designated as the
upper or fashionable circle ; not, however,
as 1 think, by any means an Aristocracy.
In England, those few who govern are
really the Aristocracy, and also the select
and fashionable in private life ; hut tlie term
“ Aristocracy” is properly a political desig
nation, and should not appear so far out of
place—should not be so improperly award
ed, appropriated or applied to a private cir
cle, except where political power and social
rank go band in hand. But, notwithstand
ing this fact, some talk with so much seem
ing presumption, as I deem it, about “ our
Aristocracy /” Why, sir, we have no ani
mal oT the kind among us, properly speak
ing ; we don’t know what you mean by our
Aristocracy. Aristocracy—if I understand
and have been properly taught—Aristocra
cy is nothing more or less than the govern
ment of the few. And where is the few
who can govern the American people, so
long accustomed to say, “ so far and no far
ther?”
Our first class are simply the leaders of
the weight of society : they rule in the em
pire of taste and fashion only. We may
follow thorn in the cut of a coat, the cravat,
glove, hat, form of the mustache, and last
though not least, a certain deceptive tone des
ignating superior tank or royal blood. But
do all these self-sufficiencies, do all these
humiliating accomplishments create an Ar
istocracy ? Not in these “ realms”—not
among Whigs and Democrats.
Democracy has always borne the unjust
accusation of cherishing a “ leveling spirit.”
There is widely disseminated a mistaken
notion as to the kind of equality that Demo
cracy demands, which is not an equality in
the circumstances, but an equality in the
EIGHTS OF MANKINO.