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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.