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BY C. R. HANLEITER, P © (ETE3 Y„ “ Much yet remains unsung .” GOOD NIGHT. Good night ? nil ! no; the hour is ill Which severs those it should unite. Let us remain together still Then it will be good night. How can I call the lone night good, Though thy sweet wishes wing its (light ? Do it not snitl, though understood, Then it will be good uigct. To hearts which near each other move From evening close to morning light, The night is good ; because, my love, They never say good night. ■■ihhiii g[| [L EE ©T[E E> LI © □ LEGEND OF THE BELL ROCK. lIY CAPTAIN MAP.BVAT, R. N. There was a grand profession through the streets of the towns of Perth and of Dundee. The holy abbots, in their robes, walked under gilded rnnopies, the monks chanted, the censers were swung, flags arul banners were carried by seamen, lighted ta pers by penitents; St. Antonio, the patron of those who trust to the stormy ocean, was carried in all pomp through ihe streets; and, as the procession passed, coins of various value were thrown down by those who watched it from the windows, which, as fast as thrown, were collected by little boys dressed as angels, who held silver vessels to receive the largesses. During the whole day did the pageant continue, and large was the treasure collected in the two towns. Eve ry one gave freely, for there were few, in deed none, who, it not in their own circle, at least among their acquaintances, hut had to deplore the loss of someone dear to thorn, or to those whom they visited, fr >m the dan gerous rock which lay in the* very track of all the vessels entering the Frith of Tay. These processions hud been arranged, in order that a sufficient sum of money might he collected to enable tire authorities to put in execution a plan proposed by an advan tiirous and hold young seaman, in a council held for the purpose, of fixing a bell on the rock, which should he so airanged that the slightest breath of wind would cause the hammer of it to vibrate, and thus, by its tolling, warn the mariner of his danger.— The money received was more than suffi cient for the purpose. A meeting was then held, and it was unanimously agreed that be charged with the commission to go over to Amsterdam, and purchase the hell of a merchant residing there, who, as Andrew stated, had one in his possession, which, from its fine tone and size, was exactly calculated for the service to which it was to he appropiiated. Andrew M’Clise embarked with the money, and made a prosperous voyage. He had often been at Amsterdam, ami had lived with (he merchant, whose name was Vun dermaelin ; and the attention to his atfuirs, the dexterity, and the rapidity of the move ments of Andrew M’Clise, had often elici ted the warmest encomiums from Mynheer Vandermaclin ; and many evenings had Andrew M’Clise passed with him, drinking in moderation their favorite scheedam, and indulging in the meditative tpeerahauni.— Vandermaclin had often wished that he pos sessed a son like Andrew M'Clisc, to whom he could leave his property, with the full as surance that it would not he scattered, but greatly increased. Vandermaclin was a widower. He had hut one daughter, who was now just a: rived at an age to return from the pension to her father’s house, and take upon herself the domestic duties. M’Clise had never yet seen the beautiful Katerina. “ And so, Mynheer M'Clise,” said \ nn derrnaclin, who was sitting in the warehouse on the ground-floor of 1 1 is tenement, “ you came to purchase the famous hell of Utrecht, with the intention of fixing it upon the rock, the danger of which we have so often talk ed over after the work of the day has been donel I, too, have suffered from that same rock, as you well know; but still I have been fortunate. The price will he heavy ; and so it ought to he, for the bell itself is of no small weight.” “ Wo are prepared to pay it, Mynheer Vandermaclin.” “ Nevertheless, in so good a cause, and for so good a purpose, you shall not he over charged. I will say nothing of the beauty of the workmanship. You shall pay hut for its value as metal the same price which the Jew Isaacs offered me for it but four months ago. I will not ask what a Jew would ask, but what a Jew would give, which makes no small difference. Have you ten thousand guilders ?” “ I have, and more.” “ That is my price, Mynheer M’Clise, and I wish for no more; for I, too, will contri bute my share to the good work. Are you content, and it is a bargain ?” “It is; and the holy abbots will thank yog on vellum, Mynheer Vandermaclin, for your gMierosity.” “ I prefer the thanks of the bold seamen to those of the idle churchmen ; hut never mind, it is a bargain. Now, we will go in ; it is time to close the doors. We will take & iFiimila JUtoaKijicr : ©ffeotetr to Hitevatuve, SlarCcuUure, i&ceftantcs, Education, jFovctfin ana Domestic tuteUCflcnce, &r. our pipes, and you shall make the acquain tance of my fair daughter, Katerina.” At the time of which we are speaking, M’Clise was about six-nnd-twenty veal’s of age ; lie wes above the middle size, elegant in person, and with a frankness and almost a nobility in his countenance, which won all who saw him. His manners were like those of most sea men, bold, hut not offensively so. His eye was piercing as an eag'e’s and it seemed as if his very soul spoke from it. At the very first mepting between him and the daughter of Vandermaclin, it appeared to both as if theii destinies were to unite them. They loved not as others love, hut with an intensity it would be impossible to portray ; hut they hardly exchanged a word. Again arid again they met; their eyes spoke, hut nothing mote. The hell was put on board the vessel, the money had been paid down, and M’Clise could no longer delay. He felt as if his heart-strings were severed, ns he tore himself away from the land where all remained that he coveted upon earth. And Katerina, she too felt as if her existence was a blank. As the vessel sailed from the port, she breathed short; and, when not ev en her white and lofty top-gallant sail could he discerned as a speck, she threw herself upon her couch and wept. M’Clise, as lie sailed away, remained for hours leaning his cheek on his hand, thinking of, again and again, every lineament and feature of the peerless Katerina. Two months passed away, during which M’Clise was busied every ebb of the lido in superintending the work on the rock.— At last all was ready, and once more was to he held a gay procession: hut this lime it was on the water. It was on a calm and lovely summer’s morn, that the abbots and the monks, attended by a large company of the authorities, started from the shore of Aberhrothwi'-k in a long line of boats, de corated with sacred hauliers, and with other various flags and devices. The music float ed along llie water, au<l the solemn chants of the monks were, foi once, heatd where nev er yet they had been listened to hefoie, or ever will again. M’Ciise was at ihe rock, ina small vessel puipost-lv consti in-led to carry the hell, and with sheers to hang it on supports imbedded in il.e solid rock. The hell was in its place, and the abbot blessed the bell; while holy water was sprinkled on the metal, which was, for the future, to he lashed by the waves of ihe salt sea. The music and the chants were renewed ; as they continued, the wind gradually rose, and, with the rising of the wind, the hell tolled loud and deep. The tolling of the hell was the signal for return, for it was a warning that the weather was about to charge, and the procession pulled buck to Aberbrothwick and landed in gooilWime; for, in one hour more, and tiie rocky coast was again lashed hv the waves, and the hell tolled loud and quick, although there was nothing near it but the sea-gull, thatscrearn ed with fright as he wheeled in the air, at this unusual noise upon the rock, which at the ebb, he had so often made his resting i place. M’Ciise had done his work ; the hell was fixed ; and once more he hastened with his vessel to Amsterdam. Once more he was an inmate of Vamlennaclin’s house, once more in the presence of the idol of his soul. This time they spoke; this time their vows were exchanged for life and death. But Vandermaclin saw not the state of their hearts. He looked upon the young seaman as one too low, too poor, to he a match for his daughter; so he never imagined that he would have dared to love her. But he was soon undeceived ; for M’Clise frankly sla ted his attachment, and demanded the hand of Katerina; and, at the demand, Vander muclin’s face flushed with anger. “Mynheer M’Clise,” said he, aftera pause, as if to control his feelings; “when a man marries, he is hound to show that he has wherewithal to support his wife ; to siippoit her in that rank, anil to afford her those lux uries, to which she has been accustomed in her father’s house. Show me that you can do so, and I will not refuse you the hand of Katerina. “ As yet, I have it not.” replied M’Clise ; “ but lam young, and can work ; I have money and will gain more. Tell me what sum do you think that I should | o-se-s lo warrant my demanding the hand of your daughter.” “ Produce twelve thousand guilders, and she is yours,” replied the merchant. “ I have but three thousand,” replied M’Clise. “ Then, think no more of Katerina. It is a foolisli passion; and you must forget it. And, Mynheer M’Clise, 1 must not have my daughter’s affections tampered with.— She must forget you ; and that can only he effected by your not meeting her again. 1 wish you well, Mynheer M’Clise, but I must request your absence.” M’Clise departed from the presence of the merch ant, bowed down with grief and disappointment. He contrived that a letter, containing the result of his application, should be put in the hands of Katerina.— But Vandermaclin was informed of this, and Katerina was sent to a convent, there to remain until the departure of her lover; and Vandermaclin wrote to his correspon dent at Dundee, requesting that the goods forwarded to him might not, in future, bo sent by the vessel commanded by M’Clise. Os this our young captain received infor MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 4, 1843. million. All hope was nearly gone ; si ill he lingered, and delayed his departure. He was no longer the active, energetic seaman; he neglected all, even his attire. M’Clise knew in which convent his fair Katerina was immured ; and often would ho walk round its precincts, w ith the hope of seeing her. if if were hut for n moment, hut in vain. His vessel was now laden, and lie could no longer delay. He was to sail the next morning; and once more did the unhappy young man take his usual walk to look at those walls which contained all that was dear to him. His reverie was broken by a stone falling at his feet; he took it up; there was a small piece of paper attached to it with a silken thread. He opened it; in the handwriting of Katerina lie found hut these two ominous words—“ The Bell.” The Bell! M’Clise started ; for he im mediately comprehended what was meant. The whole plan came likeclectricity through his brain. Yes; then there was a promise of happiness. The bell was worth ten thou sand guilders; that was the sum offered, and would now he given by Isaacs, the Jew. He would be happy with his Katerina ; and he blessed her ingenuity for devising the means. For a minute or two he vvastrans poited ; hut the reaction soon took place. What was he about to attempt? Sacrilege —a treason against humanity. The hell had been blessed by the holy church ; it lmd been purchased by holy and devout alms. It had been placed on the rock to save the lives of his brother seamen ; and were lie to remove it, would he not be responsible fin all the lives lost ? Would not the wail of the widow, and the moan of the orphan, be crying out to Heaven against him ? No, no! never ! The crime was too horrible ; and M’Clise stamped upon the paper, thinking that he was tempted by Satan in the shape of a woman ; hut wjieii woman tempts man is lost. lit* i era lied lie r fauns of Katerina; all his repugnance was otererme; he re solved that the de and should 1 e accomplish ed, and that Katerina should he gained, ev en if he lost his own soul. Andrew M’Clise sailed from Amsterdam, ami KaU-riiia icovered her liberty. Van deriiiaeliit was anxious that si e should mar ly ; ami many were the unsiu cessful suilois for her hand. She reminded her fniher, ihnt he had pledged himself, if M’Clise counted down twelve thousand guilders, that she should he his wife ; and to that pledge she insisted he was hound fast. Ami Vatider maelin, after reasoning with and pointing out to her that twelve thousand guilders was a sum so large, that M’Clisc; might not pro cure it until his old age. even if lie were fortunate, ac knowledged that such was his promise, and that he would, like; an honest man, abide by if. provided that M’Clise should fulfil his part of ihe agreement in the space of two years; after which lie should delay her settlement no longer. Kat erina raised her eves to heaven, and whis pered, as she clasped her hands, “ The Bell.” Alas! that we should invoke Heav en when we would w ish to do wrong : hut mortals arc blind, and none so blind as those who are impelled by passion. It was in the summer of that year that M’Clise made his arrangements: having procured the assistance of some lawless bauds, he had taken the advantage of a smooth and glassy sea and a high tide*, to remove the hell to his own vessel; a work of little difficulty to him, as he had placed it there, and knew well the manner of ihe fast enings. He sailed away for Amsterdam, and was permitted by Heaven to arrive safe ly with his sacrilegious freight. He did not, ns before, enter the canal opposite to the house of Vandermaclin, hut one that run be hind the habitation of the Jew Isaacs. At night, he* went into the* house, mid reported to the Jew what he hail for sale; unci ihe keen einyeyos of the bent double little Is raelite sparkled with delight, for lie knew that his profit would he* gicut. At midnight the lu*ll was made fust to the crane, and safely deposited in the warehouse of lln* Jew, who counted out the ten thousand guilders to the enraptured M’Clise, whose thoughts were wholly upon the possession of his Katerina, and not upon the* crime lie had commuted. But,alas! to conceal one crime, we too often euinc to he guilty of many of a deep er hue; and thus it was with Andiew M’Clise. The people who had assisted bin*, upon the promise of a thousand guilders being divided among them, now murmured at their share, anil insisted upon an equal division of the spoils or threatened mi im mediate confession of the black deed. M’Clise raved, and cursed, nnd tore his hair, and promised to give them the money so soon as he had wedded Katerina ; but they would not consent. Again the devil came to his assistance, and whispered how he was to act. He yielded to their de mands. The next night the division was to he made. They met in thecnbin ; be gave them wine, and they drank plentifully ; hut the wine was poisoned, mill they all died before the morning. M’Clise tied weights to their bodies, and sank them in the deep canal, and broke open his hatches, to make it appear that his vessel had been plundered. He then went to the authorities, denouncing his crew ns having robbed him anil escaped. Immediate search was made, but they were not to be found ; and it was supposed that they had made off in a boat. Once mure M’Clise, whoso conscience was scared, went to the house of Vander- rrnclin, counted down fen thousand guilders, and claimed his bride ; and Vandermaclin, who felt that his daughter’s happiness was at stake, now gave his consent. As M’Clise stated that he was anxious to return to Eng land, and arrange with the merchants whose goods had been plundered, in a few days their marriage took place; and Katerina clasped the murderer in her arms. All was apparent joy and revelry ; hut there was anguish in the heart of M’Clise, who, now that he had gained his object, felt that it had cost him too much, for his peace of mind was gone for ever. But Katerina cared not; every spark of feeling was absorbed in her passion, and the very guilt of M’Clise hut rendered him more dear; for was it not for her that he had done all this? M’Clise re ceived her portion, and hastened to sail away ; for the bodies were still in the canal, and he trembled every hour lest his crime should he discovered. When Vandermac lin bade farewell to his daughter, he knew not why, but there was a feeling he could not suppress, that they never should meet again. “ Down—dow*n below, Katerina ; this is no place for you,” cried M’Clise, as he stood at the helm of the vessel. “ Down, dear est, down, or you will he washed overboard. Every sea threatens to pour into our decks; already have we lost two men. Down, Katerina ! down, I tell you.” “ 1 fear not; let me remain with you.” “ I tell you, down,” cried M’Clise, in wrath ; Katerina cast upon him a reproach ful look, and obeyed. The storm was at its height; the sun had set; black and monstrous billows chased each other, and ihe dismasted vessel was hurled on toward the land. The wind howl | oil and w histled sharply through each chink in the bulwarks of the vessel. For thice days had they fought with the gale, hut in vain. Now. if it continued, all chance was over, fir the shore was oil their lee, distant not many miles. Nothing could save them, but gaining the month of the Frith of Tay. which would iiiilffo il.i'iu to bear up foi Dundee. There was a boiling snree, a iluiU night, warring sens-, and their masts were floating far away. M’Clise stood at the helm, keeping the ves sel hinadside to the sen ; Ids heart was full of bitierness, for his guilty conscience bore him down, and he looked lor death, yet he dreaded it; for was he not a sacrilegious murderer, and is there notan avenging God above? Once more Kater'na appeared on deck, clinging for support to Andrew. “ 1 cannot stay below. Tell me, will it soon he over ?” “Yes,” replied M’Clisc, gloomily; “it will soon he over with all of us.” “ How nidiii you ? You told me there was tm danger.” “ 1 told you falsely. There is death soon, and damnation afterward: for you I liavd lost my soul !*’ “ Oh, say not so !” “ I say it. Leave me, woman, leave me, or 1 cuie thee,” “ Cmterne, Andrew ! Oh, no! Kiss me, Andrew ; and if we are to perish, let us expire in eaih other’s arms.” “’Tis as well; you have dragged me to perdition. Leave me, I say, for you have inv hitter curse.” Thus was his guilty love turned foliate, now that death was staring him in the face. Katerina made no reply. She threw* her self on the deck, and abandoned herself to her feeling of hitter anguish. And ns she lay there, and M’Clise stood at the helm, the rain abated ; the vessel was no longer borne down as hi fiui*. although the waves were still mountain high, ‘i he seamen oil board rallied ; some fiagments of sail were set on the remnants of ilu* masts, and there was n rliancp of safety. M’Clise spoke lint, hut watched the helm. The wind shifted in their favor, and hope rose in every heart. The Friih of ‘fav was now open, mid they wen* saved ! Light was the heart of M’Clise when he kept away the Vessel, and gave the helm up to the mute. He liusleurt! to Kat erina, who still remained on the deck, rais cd her up, whispered comfort and returning love ; but she heard not —she could not for get —and slit* wept bitterly. “ We are saved, dear Katerina !” “ Heller that we hail been lost!” replied she, mournfully. “ N’o, no ! say not so, with your own An drew* pressing you to his bosom.” “ Your hitter curse !” “ ’Tuns madness—nothing. I knew not vvlint I said.” But the iron had entered into her soul. Her heart was broken. “ You had better give orders for them to look out for the Bell Rock,” observed the man at the helm to M’Clise. The Bell Rock ! M’Clise shuddered, and made no reply. Onward went the vessel, impelled by the sea and wind ; one moment raised aloft, and towering over the surge ; at another, deep in the hollow trough, and walled in by the convulsed elements.— M’Clisc still held his Katerina in Iris arms, who responded not tohis endearments, when a sudden shock threw them on the deck.— The crashing of the timbers, the pouring of the waves of the stern; the heeling and set tling of the vessel, were hut the work of a few seconds. One more furious shock— she separates, falls on her beam ends, and the raging seas sweep over her. | M’Clise threw from him her whom he had so madly loved, and plunged into the wave. Katerina shrieked, as she dashed after him, and all was over. When the storm rises, and the screaming sea-gull seeks the land, and the fisherman i hastens his hark toward the bench, then is to lie seen, descending from the dark clouds 1 with the rapidity of lightning, the form of Andrew M’Clise, the heavy hell, to which he is attached by the neck, bearing him down to his doom. And when nil is smooth and calm, when, at iheehbing tide,the wave hut gently kisses the rock, then, by the light of the silver moon, the occupants of the vessels which sail from the Frith of Tay, have often be held the form of the beautiful Katerina, waving her white scarf as a signal that they should approach and take her off from the rock on which she is seated. At times she offers n letter for her father, Vandermaclin; and she mourns and weeps when the wary mariners, with their eyes fixed on her, and with folded arms, pursue their way in silence and in dread. [MI 3©©[E 1L [L ur\ Y a Origin of the Names of the several Uniied Slates. — Maine was so culled as.early as 1633, from Maine in Franee, of which Hen rietta Maria, Queen of England, was at that time proprietor. New-IJampshire was the name given to the territory conveyed by the Plymouth Company toCapt. John Mason, by patent, Nov. 7, 1639, with reference to the patentee, who was Governor of Portsmouth, in Hamp shire, England. Vermont was so called by the inhabitants in their Declaration of Independence, Jan uary 16, 1777. from the French verd mont, green mountain. Missaohusetts was so called from Mnssa rliusetls Bay, and from the Massachusetts tribe of Indians in tin* neighborhood of Bos ton. The tribe is tl.Might to have derived \ its name fn m tl e Blue Hills id’Milton “ 1 have tearneil,” says Roger Williams, •• ilmi the Massachusetts was so culled from the Bun* Hills.” Rhode-Island whs so called in 16-14, in reference to the Island of Rhodes, in the Mediterranean. Connecticut was so called from the In dian name of its principal river. New-York was so called, in 1664, in refer ence to the duke of York and Albany, to whom this territory was granted by the King of England. New-Jf.rsey was so called, in 1664, from the Island of Jersey, on the coast of France, the residence of the family cf Sir George Cattcret, to whom this territory was granted. Pennsylvania was so called in 1681, after William Penn. Delaware was so called in 1703, from Delaware Bay, on which it lies, and which received its name from Lord De La War, who died in this hay. Maryland was so called in honor of Hen rietta Maria, Queen of Charles 1. in his pa tent to Lord Baltimore, June 30, 1632. Virginia was so called in 1584, after Elizabeth, the virgin queen of England. Carolina was so called by the French in 1564. in honor of King Charles IX. of Franco. Georgia was so called in 1732, in honor of King George 11. Alabama was so called in ISI7, from its principal i iver. Mississippi was so called in 1800, from its Western boundary. Mississippi is said lo denote ihe whole river, i. e. the rivet formed by the union of many. Louisiana was so culled, in honor of Louis XIV. of France. Tennessee was so called in 1796, from its principal river. The word Ten-ussee is said to signify a curved spoon. Kentucky was so called in 1792, from its principal river. Illinois was so called in 1809, from its principal river. The word is said to signify the river of wen. Indiana was so called in 1809, from the American Indians. Ohio was so called in ISO 2, from its Bout hern boundary. Missouri was so called in IS2I, from its principal river. Michigan was so called in 1805, from the lake on its border. Arkansas was so called in 1819, from its principal river. Florida was so called by Juan Ponce de j Leon in 1572, because it was discovered on Easter Sunday, in Spanish Pascua Florida. Columbia was so called in reference to Columbus. Wisconsin was so called from its princi pal river. lowa is so called from its principal river. Oregon is so called from its principal river. I walked silently through little hamlets nnd close by their outer churchyards, w here crumbled upcast coffin-boards were glim mering, while the once bright eyes that hail laid in them were mouldered into grey ashes. Cold thought! clutch not like a cold sceptre at my heart; I looked up to the starrv sk y > and an everlasting chain stretebeg thither, and over and’below, and afi JS Life, and Warmth, and Light, end } s godlike op God. VOLUME I.—NUMBER 45. Keep it before Yourself, Young man. ! that industry, integiity, good morals and ■ virtue will be a passport for you in society, j and will make you respected and esteemed ly tie good and wise. Keep it before yourself, Young Lady, tlmt kindness of heart, a sweet disposition and an even temper, will make you an agree able companion with the old and young. Keep it before yourself, Young Man or Woman, that in choice for a partner for life you should look well to the habits and dispo sition of each other, that a young man with a cigar in his mouth, and cane in his hand, and his brains running to hair, may do very well for a heau, hut is not to be compared to the plain unpretending youth whose heart is right, and whose common sense will not allow him to play the dandy. Thata young ] lady who is all accomplishmerits.'who can sing a little, dance a little, thumb the piano a little, and look fascinating any time, may fill a place on the sofa, ami be the belie of a ball room, yet if she cannot boil a pudding, roast a steak, dust a room, or darn a stock ing—if her accomplishments are all for show and none for use—then ten chances to one that the young lady who has a good knowledge of household affairs has been brought up by a careful mother, and is well versed in the actual duties of life, will make a better wife, and a pleasanter and happier home. Keep it before yourself, Farmer, that you ! should return to the earth at least as much as you take from it—that you should make your land richer year by year, and not let it wear out—that you should have a neat house, large barns, good sheds for your cat tle, ami show that it is your ambition to make “ two spears of grass grow where one grew before.” Keep it before yourself, Merchant, that a ” nimble sixpence is better than a slow shil ling”—that one price for goods, nr dealing with every person alike, is the right way to give general satisfaction, and to secure cus tom. h.eep !t before youself, Mechanic, that punctuality is a viitue ; that work promised should always be done at the time and well done, and tlicii you need give yoursoW fears of a want of business. Judge Keyes. —Old Eliss Keyes, former ly first Judge of Windsor county, Vermont, was a strange composition of folly and good sense, of natural shewdness, and want of cult Nation. 1 remember the substance of a sentence he pmnounred upon a poor rag ged fellow for petit-laiceny. The case was stealing a pair of boots from Gen. .’Curtis, then a man of considerable wealth in the town of Windsor. It was proved that the General had lost his boots, and that they were found at the lodgings of the prisoner, and that of course lie stole them ; so at least said the jury, and. the jury, you know, is in fallible. Well, the Judge very gravely, previously to pronouncing the sentence of the court, undertook to read the young rascal a fee lute. “ You ate a fine fellow,” said his honor, “to be arraigned before this court for stealing They krv you arc poor—-no one doubts it, who Imrks'bt you—atul how dare you, being poor, to have the impudence to steal a pair of hoots ? Nobody but rich people have a right to take such things with out paying for them. They say you are wot t bless—that is evident from the fact that not one has cvet asked justice to be done to you ; all by unanimous consent pronounced you guilty before you were tried. Now, you being so worthless, was a fool to steal, liecause you might know you would be con demned. And then you see it was a great aggravation of your offence, that you stole them iti the large town of VVihdsor. In that large tow n to commit such an act is most horrible. And yon must not only go to Windsor to steal, but must stenl from that great man, General Curtis. This caps tiie climax of vour iniquity. Ease wretch, whv did you rot go and steal the only pair of Loots which some pom man had or could get, and then you would have been let alone; nolxidy would have troubled them selves about the act ? For your audacity in the great town of Windsor, and from the great General Curtis the court sentences you to tlnce mouths in the county jail, and God give you something to eat.”— Vermont Paper. Though for many years a Judge, Mr. Keyes hail no great partiality for the rules of law. no paitieular veneration for his own bench. His derisions were those of a court of equity; for lie soldom paid any attention to the law when it interfered with his own ideas of justice. The old Judge finally became involved in lawsuits himself, concerning land title— the fruitful source of ligitation every where —which finally proved his ruin. riis cases went against him ; and, after petitioning the Legislature year after year for anew trial, he at length heermo so disgusted tb* he took all his law books and made a publia bonfire of them in the street in front of his house, at declaring that his domicil shoo’d never again he disgraced by the of Mail, Oliver Cromwell.! —Oliver Cromwell was a prodigy, J3orn of buinblo parentage, ho knew nothing of the blandishment of palaces and courts, and therefore lie trampled upon them, and spurned them from his sight. It was wonderful (o see with what resolute-