Newspaper Page Text
ami the churchyard telle the tale> by a mar*
ble slab, of thb riSs'Ciie rtf the parents of those
w|o, although brothers, never enjoyed but
an.Tndwtiiict idea of affection, and who part
ed ,thl l i fe .wHhfiot regret for want of a com
miinipn of feeling in the future world of
Such arc the ties by which nature
binds'man together.
—■ ii -i ‘ -jjg
,- •7 W k tF A33 il 5S a
; ,*• t 1 •
Agricultural societies.
Thh following remarks of the Columbia
(S. C.) Planter, on the important advanta
ges to. to derived from Agricultural Socie
ties, are so just and proper that we cannot
omit the opportijpity to urge their consider
ation upon our readers, and we sincerely
hope they will not permit such valuable sug
gestions to pass unheeded.
“.The benefits resulting from these asso
ciations, we think, are not properly ap
preciated irt ntany portions of the country.
‘■'Agricultural Societies are eminently
nseful in a moral and in a pecuniary light.
They excite a greater interest in devising
and caltyittg but improvements, that other
wise might not be forced upon the attention
of rtheir members. And thus, by inducing
planters to feel mote interested, a spirit of
inquiry is created, which leads them to de
vote more time to profitable reading, than
would otherwise be the case. No one who
is accustomed to meet with his neighbors
three or four times a year, and listens to the
details of t heir experiments, and to the prac
tical information which they suggest, can
be indifferent to his own improvement. A
planter thus stimulated to seek ‘information
on a subject, of which knowledge is power,
becomes not only a more intelligent and
thinking man, but he becomes e more prac
tical and successful agiicullurist. He finds
more time to read, and less to waste in idle
ness and dissipation. Interested in some
system of imptovement he has formed—
home has fresh charms for him, sml bis farm
receives a greatersbare of attention. These
we regard as moral advantages from Agri
cultural Societies, of no small consequence.
And we think it can scarcely be delried, that
if associations of this kind do impart this
stimulus, they must tend, also, to the pecu
niary, improvement of their members. If
mind is at all-concerned in successful agri-
Cloture, surely whoever is stimulated, no
matter by what, to improve in a knowledge
of his profession, and who applies that
knowledge to its practical details, must ac
quire greater skill, And ifhe does this, he
necessarily reaps a pecuniary reward, ex
actly proportioned to his increased skill.—
In agricultural pursuits, there is no profes
sional jealousy, for the success of one is not
at the expense of another, and surely, if
there is any avocation, in which the knowl
edge of each should be the common pro
perty of all, it is in that of the planter. By
means of Agricultural Societies and Agri
cultural Papers, ibis is effected. They con
dense the Bcat!ered lays of knowledge that,
separately, afford but feeble and uncertain
light, into a common focus, wbere they are
combined and reflected back on all. The
reading of one, the reflections of another,
and the information derived from experi
ence in a third, thus become the reading,
the reflections and the experience of all.—
Hence Agricultural Societies arc the cheap
est and most effective agricultural schools
that can bo instituted, while they promote,
at the same time, a social intercourse among
neighbors, that contributes, in no small de
gree, to the pleasures of life. We will not
dwell, however, on these social advantages.
Estimate Agricultural Societies by the a
mount of actual information which thoy
cause to be brought forth and diffused. If
they are conducted with proper spirit, com-,
mittees are appointed every year, each to
consider some specified subject, and after
gaining all the information in their reach,
to report this information for the benefit of
all the members. Each member of a com
mittee shouhl give his views, the result of
his experience on this one particular sub
ject, and his opinions as to any prevailing
practice connected with it, and the reasons
for those opinions—from these the chair
man should prepare his report, and submit
the condensed knowledge of the whole com
mittee. If we suppose that n very large
amount of practical knowledge will not be
elicited in this way, we must sadly under
rate the capacities of our neighbors. There
are rich mines of knowledge throughout the
country, which need only to be brought forth
to give southern agricu’ture a higher stand
than it has ever enjoyed, or ever, in fact,
deserved to This information, how
ever, like gold, is not found in any one place
in large masses. It is scattered in minute
particles among the great mass of agricul
turists, and to make it extensively useful and
valuable, it must be collected particle by parti
cle, submitted to the lefining fire 9 of reason
and experience, and then condensed fin
genet's! circulation. To collect these scat
tered particles, to test their value, to con
dense and circulate them for the common
benefit, is the great object of Agricultural
Societies. And that this is a practicable ob
ject. has long ago been proved, by the improve
ment in knowledge and in practical skill,
otnongtbe members of those societies that
have been conducted with even a tolerable
share of energy and spirit. Can the South
ern country exhibit a greater number of
well informed, skilful and successful plan
ters, than is to be found nmong the mem
bepl of the Watcree and Monticello Agri
cuitural Societies I We particularize these
because we happen to know the character
and success of the members of these two
societies, better than we do those of most
others. We presume that none of them
would; deny that they owe much of their
respective improvement to the direct and
indirect influence of these associations.
“We cannot drop this subject without
again urging planters, generally, to exert
their influence in forming and sustaining
these societies throughout the State, and let
them make the State Agricultural Society
the common bond* of union/’
Tomato Figs. —-We copy the following
froth, the Earnn r. It will soon
lie g- seasonable article. The experiment
has beeti tried in this quarter with the most’
•atUflUtery results. Rich’ specimens of th
fruit thus prepared, were exhibited at the
shows of the Cincinnati Horticultural So
ciety this spring.— Cin. Ga.
Patent Office, July 10, 1841.
Dear Sir—The medicinal qualities of To
matos have greatly increased their cultiva
tion, and every new preparation of the arti
cle is deserving consideration. A sample
of “ Tomato Figs” has just been deposited
at the Patent Office, of a very superior
quality. From the taste, I should suppose
all the good qualities of the fruit are retain
ed. In appearance, the drum of tomatos
resembles one of figs so nearly, that they
might easily be mistaken for the same.
The sample is deposited by Mts. Steiger
of this city, and the recipe transmitted with
it is enclosed for publication. It is deeply
to be regretted, that since the periodicals of
the day are open to communications, that
so many valuable improvements are lost to
the world barely for the want of publicity.
Others may have dried the Tomatos with a
recipe, however, less successful.
Very respectfully,
H. L. Ellsworth.
Hon.. J. S. Skinner.
Take 6 lbs. of sugar to 1 peck for 1G lbs.]
of the fruit. Scald and remove the skin of
the fruit in the usual way. Cook them over
a file, their own juice being sufficient with
out the addition of water, until the sugar
penetrates and they are clarified. They are
then taken out, spread on dishes, flattened
and dried in the sun. A small quantity of
the syrup should be occasionally sprinkled
over them, whilst drying ; after which, pack
them down in boxes, treating each layer
with powdered sugar. The syrup is after
wards concentrated arid bottled for use.—
They will keep well from year to year and
retain surprisingly their flavor, which is
nearly that of the best quality of fresh figs!
The pear shaped or single tomatoes answer
the purpose best. Ordinary brown sugar
may be used, a large portion of which is re
tained in the syrup.
LADDIES’ DEPABVMISMT
John Randolph's Mother. —ls men’s minds
would but retain the form and pressure of a
mother’s mouldings, how much more bright
their characters would appear in after life
than they often do! The soundest and most
correct thinkers have acknowledged that
those traits for which the world gave them
most credit were the result of early mater
nal counselings. ‘The late John Randolph,
some-years befote his death, wrote to a
friend as follows:
‘‘l used to be railed a Frenchman, be
cause I took the French side in •politics ;
and though this was unjust, yet the truth is,
I should have been a French atheist, if it
had not been fur one recollection, and that
was when my departed mother used to take j
my little hands into hers, and cause me on
my knees to sav, ‘ Our Father, which art in I
Heaven.’ ”
Blushing. —We love to see the"rosy hue
mounting over the neck ami face of a beau
ful woman ; it shadows forth, delicately and
softly, the gentle feel tigs of her soul. It is
the evidence of timidity, which is lovely in
woman. Out upon our mascaline mind—
out upon our rough, sturdy genius ! we pre
fer the reed to ash—ivy to oak. Woman’s
natural element is retirement, her home the
domestic circle. Unfit by nature to buffet
with the world’s waves, or mingle in its
strife, she lives dependent Jupoti a stronger
spirit, and repays in kindness and gentle
ness that which she receives in protection
and support.
We caunot bear a woman who never
blushes ; the steady, cold, and calm eye has
no charm for us ; there is a beauty and a
gentleness in the down cast look, starting
tear, and warm blush, that defies compari
son, even with the loveliest nt the haughty.
Those who endure to curb and restrain this
feeling, thinking it a weakness, err stiange
ly in their ideas; let it alone ! there is no
defotmity in the indulgence.
Making Soap. —Among other things, let
me tell you to learn how to make soap. 1
do not know that l should have thought of
naming this, if my ignorance of soap ma
king had not troubled me exceedingly. At
first 1 did not know the method, and depen
ded on the old woman who lived with me,
to make it. I went to her when the soap
keg was almost empty, and told her we
must have some made as quick as possible.
“ Why, law ! Miss, now don’t you see it
ain’t the tight time of the moon 1” I tried
to pursuade her that soap making and the
moon were but very slightly connected, if
the other part of the business was well con
ducted. It was, however, to no purpose—
I had to wait till the “ right time” come
round, before I could get my soap. After
this, when I had the superintendance of a
large family, I was obliged to buy it by the
barrel, because I did not well understand
the mannfacture of tho article, and I was
really ashamed that such extra expense was
caused by my ignorance. Sometimes there
was too much lime with the ashes; then
again not enough : sometimes it was too
greasy, and sometimes any thing but what it
ought to be. I will tell you my experience in
the matter, so that you may learn from your
mothers now, and riot have the trouble of
learning, when you ought to be making it.
As I have given you so long a talk ou the
subject, I will add a recipe I found in, the
Cultivator. It may be of use to some of
your mothers, if not to you. Mr. Tomlin
son writing to Judge Buel, says: “My wife
has no trouble about soap. The grease is
put into a cask and strong lye added. Dur
ing the year, as the fat increases, more lye
is stirred in, and all is occasionally stirred
with a stick that is kept in it. By the time
the cask is full, the soap is made ready for
use. It is made hard by boiling and adding
a quart of fine salt to three gallons of soap.
It is put into a tub to cool, and the froth
scraped off. It is afterwards melted to a
boiling beat, and a little rosin or turpentine
given, which improves the quality,”
Some of you will think me a most unsen
timental sort of a woman, when I advise
you to learn how good bread, butter, coffee,
pickles, puddings, &c., arc made ; but you
will have to learn sometime, or do worse.
Work with your own bands too, even if it
g CD ‘jr ® in m ‘Ji $t
| should tarnish their whiteness a little. A
j man docs not consider the .beauty of a soft
; white hand a very strong recommendation
when he finds it has been kept for show and
not for use. 1 think a young lady should
be able to scour a kettle and grace a dia
mond. ‘ Lucy.
. ffian-@©IILLAMY
;■ - - ■ ‘ .’
Napoleon nt St. Helena. —Another hook,
in addition to the many which bave appeal
ed relative to Napoleon, has been recently
published in London. Among the residents
| at St. Helena, during Napoleon’s abode on
the island, was a young lady named Eliza
Balcombe, frequently mentioned in O’Mea
ra’s “ Voice from St. Helena,” as a cay,
lively gill, much noticed by the illustrious
exile. This lady has now given her recol
lections of the Emperor to the world, and
they are said to he among the most interest
ing that have yet been given of him. *• They
exhibit him,” says 1 1re London Sun, “in a
| very amiable light; as a kindly, considerate,
I cheerful person, utteily devoid of preten
! sinn, and delighting in the society of the
young and the enthusiastic.” The fidlmv
i inc extract gives a favorable impression of
} the writer’s lively manner and graphic poiv
j ers :
J Le petit Las Cases, as he called Count
■ Las Cases’ sen, formed one of the party on
that day ; he was then a laJ of fourteen, and
the Emperor was fond of quizzing me about
j him, and telling me I should beliis wife.—
Nothing enraged me so much : 1 could not
! bear to he considered such a child, and par
| ticulatly at that moment, for there was a
i hall in prospect, to w hich I had great hopes
of papa allowing me to go, and 1 knew that
his objection would be founded on i>y being
too young. Napoleon seeing my annoy
ance, desired young Las Cases to kiss me,
and held both my hands whilst the little
page saluted me. I did all in my power to
escape, hut in vain. The moment my hands
were at liberty l boxed le petit Las Cases’
ears most thoroughly. But I determined to
be revenged on Napoleon; and in descend
ing to the cottage to play whist, an oppor
tunity presented itself which I did not allow
to escape. There was no internal commu
nication between the part occupied by the
Emperor and the rest of the house, and the
path leading down was very steep and very
nartow, there being barely room for one
person to pass at a time.
Napoleon walked first, Las Cases next,
then bis son, and lastly my sister Jane. I
allowed the party to proceed very quietly
until 1 was left about ten yards behind ; and
then I ran with all my force on my sister
Jane. She fell with extended hands on the
little page; he was thrown upon his father,
and the Grand Chamberlain, to his dismay,
was pushed against the Emperor; who, al
though the'shock was somewhat diluted by
the time it reached him, had still some diffi
culty, from the steepness of the path, in pre
serving his footing. I was in ecstacies at
the confusion T had created, and exulted in
the revenge I had taken for the kiss ; but.l
was soon obliged to change my note of tii
utn pb. Las Cases was thunderstruck at
the insult offered to the Emperor, and be
came perfectly furious at my uncontrolaMo
laughter. He seized me by the shoulders,
and pushed me violently on the rocky batik.
It W’as now- my turn to be enraged. I burst
into tears of passion, and turning to Napo
leon, cried out, “Oh ! sir, he has hurt me.”
“ Never mind,” replied the Emperor, “ ne
pleurs pas —I will hold him while you pun
ish him.” And a good punishing lie got;
I boxed the little man’s ears until he begged
for mercy; but 1 would show him none, and
at length Napoleon let him go, telling him
to run, and if he could not run faster than
n;e, he deserved to be beaten again. He
immediately started off - as fast as he could,
and I after him, Napoleon clapping his
hands and laughing immoderately at our
race around the lawn.
Genius audits Power. —“lt gives glad
ness, gladness, to the world, gladness to the
| soul of every man! Light to the past, pow
er to the present, hope for coming days.—
Have you seen the graves and the ruin’s up
on the earth? Have you seen nations and
thrones vanish away ? seen how those who
have done works of Jove and heroic acts
sank into the silent grave? how ashes cover
the splendid temples, and how mist hangs
over arid obscures the sepulchres of heroes,
and how every thing, every thing passes
away from the actual world ?
“ But who is the glorious. One who scat
ters the clouds with flaming glances, and
causes the spirits of the departed to live
again in glorified fotms 1 the immortal hard,
who preserves the memory of nations, their
struggles, their victories, their wounds the
treasures which they have gained,and which
one age inherits from another; who causes
us to weep to day at the suffering, and to
rejoice at the great actions which have pass
ed away for thousands of years ? Bright
dawn of morning to the world sunk rn dark
i ness, Genius, it is thou ?
“ When the spirit speaks, then is the heart
! of nations expanded; immortal words which
lay there slumbering, awake again. Men
look up, ami perceive anew their nobler
selves, they become better, more loving, and
huppier.
“ Dark clouds pa9s over the earth. There
are autumn nights when all the stars of hea
ven are obscured, and the heart of man is
sick of life, of nil around him, of himself.—
No animating feeling dwells in his heart, no
tear comes to his eye ; wherever he looks it
is night, and intbe oarknesaarepale Frightful
shadows—and the air which he bleaches suf
focates him. Then ! —what flashes out of
the cloud, and makes the night clear, and
permits ns to see the beautiful spirits which
were hidden behind the clouds and which
now smile down upon us? It is genius, it
is the great artist! His lightning Hash lias
touched the heart of the unhappy man, he
has wept, his sufferings are alleviated ; yet
another beam of light, another glimpse of the
divine countenance, and he looks up with i
hope and courage.
“ And when n nation bleeds, when a deep I
wound has been struck at its heart, and it
seems as if its strength, its freedom, its no- ■
blest life, must pass away under the hand of
the executioner ; who is it who, even then,
sjreaks of better days, who raises again the
fallen eagle, and allows his eye again to look
at the eternal Sun ? Comforter of the cast
down, Seer and Prophet of the mysteries of
God, Genius, all hail!
“ Who makes nature more glorious ? who
understands her language, reads the silent
hymn of the flowers, and comprehends the
thoughts in tho songs of the birds 1 Who
listens to the spirits of the mountain and
the river, and to the voice of God in the roll
ing thunder, in the rustling forest, and ex
plains to man the words of God in naturq ?
“ Thou wonder-working, thou life in life,
thou mighty hand, thou who biudest togeth
er time and eternity, ever-renewing, ever
producing power, thou who lookest on the
path of tho sun, and on the heart of man,
thou who seekest out the essence of the Di
vinity, and the life of the little flower, we
conceive thee net, but we know well whence
thou art!
“ Man fell, and the spirit went astray in
dark dreams; hut the jubilee of a higher
world reached him. O! then the scattered
features united in a heavenly smile, the mis
ty figures of his dream received life and
eoloi, and all his recollections stood up in
bright light—a beam of God’s brightness,
Genius smiles upon the earth, and illumi
nates the tlatk reality.” — Frederika Bremer.
Marie Antoinette. —Courage, under any
form, is captivating—a brave bird, a breve
dog, u brave horse, and a brave boy, are al
ways sure of sympathy from the bystanders,
however composed. Much more surely
docs a woman’s courage, displayed in mo
ments of peril, carry away all hearts. A
most striking illustration of this was afford
ed by the Queen of Louis XVI, Buike’s
“ Marie Antoinette,” on the morning after
the terrible night at Versailles, when the
fisliwoman of Paris and a drunken mob
broke into the palace and sought the life of
the royal family, especially of the Queen.
The heroism of the garde du corps, station
ed at her door, who fell at his post, covered
wilh.wounds from a hundred hands, gave
her time to escape into an adjoining apart
ment, and the infuriated mob, on entering
her chamber and finding her gone, plunged
their weapons into her bed. The body
guards, wherever found, were massacred, or
reserved for death. The Queen resolved
on an effort to save them. It is thus rela
ted by Adison.— N. Y. American.
“ Notwithstanding the shots which were
fired at the window, she persisted in appear
ing at the balcony to endeavor to obtain the
paidon of the body guards. When M. de
Luzerne endeavored to place himself be
tween her and the exasperated multitude,
she gently removed him, alleging that that
w as her post, and the King could not afford
to lose so faithful a servant. Shortly after,
the crowd vociferously demanded that she
should appear at the window ; she came
fuitli, accompanied with her children—twen
ty thousand voices immediately exclaimed,
“ Away with the children!” and the Queen
sending them in, re-appeared alone in the
presence of a mob, from whom she expect
ed instant death. The generous contempt
of personal danger overcame the fury of the
populace, and universal shouts of applause
testified their sense of the reality of the pe
ril which she had braved.”
Rural Life. — Oil ! for a spot of ground
that I could call my own ! If there is any
thing on earth that 1 begrudge others tho
possession of, it is the cultivated spot around
the neat little cottage, in the still and delight
ful villa. The sweet carrols of the biids,
the perfume of the flowers, and the gurgling
even of the little streamlet, as it o’er-leaps
its precipice, and throws its pearly tapestry
on the genial air—are full of enchantment
and delight. Talk of quitting the smiles of
the country—-its health and enjoyment—its
green fielc sand luxuriant foliage—for the
festering atmosphere, scrimped avenues and
dusty pavements of the city—its dense pop
ulation, its hustle, excitement and distiac
tions—ye that would do so, will find multi
tudes who’ll “ trade even or pay in the boot.”
Try it—“ but keep a hold upon thy cot”—
for ere you have touched, you’ll run. There
are pleasures, enjoyments, and comforts in
a city life; but in comparison with the
sweets, and stillness, and inspiriting charms
of rural felicity, they are indeed “ few and
fai between.” There you can cultivate your
pot a toe patch—here you must cultivate a
patch for your whiskers. There you can
sit out with your own hands, the shrubs, and
plants and flowers, to
“ Waste their fragrance on die desert air.”
Here you can have a puny plant stuck in an
eat them pot, looking for all the world, as
though it had “ no friend or krindred here.”
There your little ones may leap o’er hill and
dale, and get health with their gambols—
here, if they stray From your door, they may
have their necks broken by some maddened
horse, or the cryer must jingle the music of
his bell “ to call the children home.” There
your banks will discount delicious vegeta
bles, to gladden every repast; but here
they discount notes and bring you up to the
reckoning day.-
It has been so often said that the farmer
was the most independent of men, that most
people have yielded the position a tacit ac
quiescence, without really taking the pains
to look at the causes that make him so. He
gets clear of these constantly recuring hopes
and fears, which alternate like sunshine and
gloom, in the bosom of the merchant, the
mechanic, or the man of chance. His busi
ness is regular, inspiriting and ennobling.
He depends not upon the chances of trade
or the cast of a dio in some visionary spec
ulation. He sows and plants—and God
giveth the abundant harvest.— Boston Cou
rier.
Degrading in the Extreme—Wotking at
some honest trade for a living.
A Proper pride—Living on one’s rich
friends.
Doing Well—Selling one’s self for life at
a good price.
Doing Badly—Marryingfrom any feeling
of affection.
A Great Scanrp—One who is too poor to
pay little debts contracted for the necessa
ries of life.
A Worthy Man—One who screws the
widow and orphan out of their last cent, be
cause it is his just due.
An Incident in Frontier Life. —A corres
pondent of the Savannah Republican, wri
j ling from Flotilla on the 11th instant, nar
j rates the following incident:—“ The father
of a family, consisting of a wife and two
sons in the vicinity of that place was taken
sick, and during his illness, there being no
food in the house, the wife look the gun for
the purpose of procuring game. Having
wandered out of the way she got lost, anti
after three days solitary adventure in the
wilderness,the at last, weary and sick, found
her home, and her husband a corpse. Be
ing unable to art further she sent her eldest
boy to the house of a neighbor, some seven
or eight miles off for assistance; the little
fellow shortly after his arrival under the
fiiendly roof, through previous sickness, and
present excitement beyond his years, be
came ill, and before he could tell his tale,
died ; a few days after the house was visit
ed, when alongside of the father was found
the dead body of bis wife and remaining
son. The tale is short but true. They all
had perished through starvation.
Singular and unnatural Crime unwitting
ly committed. —With every fact in the fol
lowing statement, we are in personal ac
quaintance, and could did we think pioper
give names and dates.
About the year 1808, a young gentleman
left his native village in the south western
part of Massachusetts, to seek his fortune
in a southern clime. He reached Chailes
ton, and there established himself in busi
ness and was successful. He wooed and
won the fair daughter of a distinguished
Senator, and one condition of his marriage
was, that he should change his name to that
ot an estate which by the marriage he be
came possessed of. Under his new cogno
men lie never addressed his family at home,
nor were they evei apprised of his condition,
further than that he was married and
wealthy. After a few months, .all corres
pondence ceased, and for many years noth
ing was heard of him.
At the time of leaving home, he left an
only sistet quite young. She grew to wo
manhood, and the fond recollection of an ab
sent brother grew stronger upon her as she
advanced in age.
So strong was this attachment that she de
termined alone and unprotected, to under
take the journey and seek out her missing
relative. Arriving at Charleston, sl.e took
apartments at a hotel, and as she thought
the better to pursue her search, in case of
any concealment on the part of her brother,
she assumed another name, and commenced
her inquiries. Her search, though pursued
with every diligence, proved utterly unavail
ing, not a trace of even his name could be
found, nor any one answering her imperfect
description of his person, she was unable
from bis long absence to give or to receive
in explanation to the brother. His wife had
been dead some two years, and he was now
a gay widower and rich withal.
The young lady was beautiful and well
educated, a very belle. The better to pur
sue her main purpose,she visited all the pub
lic places, and one night was espied by her
brother, to herself unknown, as was she fiom
the lapse of time and change of features,
equally unknown to him. An interview
was sought and obtained by him, and struck
with her beauty, and mental acquirements,
an assiduous courtship shortly resulted in
their man iage.
Singular as it may appear, no discovery
of their former Relationship was made till
after a lapse of three years, and their union
had resulted in the birth of two children.
A visit to the north was agreed upon and
the happy pair w ith their offspring, at l ived
at Boston. They li ft the city to visit his
relatives, and she not inquiring of their par
ticular destination, nothing of importance oc
curred till they alighted at their own father’s
door, and entered the house os husband and
wife. The scene that ensued may he imag
ined on the discovery being made, but words
cannot describe it.
Shrieks of agony, distress and horror, ran
in common through the whole household.
It being a quiet country village, the news
spread with the rapidity of lightning, and a
general convocation of the whole neighbor
hood was the immediate consequence.—
Scorn, abuse and vituperation, was heaped
upon the unhappy victims without stint, and
nought but universal execration, was suffer
ed in place of an explanation, which was
eagerly sought by tbe distracted strangers.
The vote and voice was unanimous that no
roof in the town should shelter them for the
night and they weie compelled unceremo
niously to leave the place, which they did,
though in an awfully changed state of rela
tionship. The unfoitunate lady has never
to our knowledge been since heard of; nor
would the subject again have occurred to
our mind, but that a gentleman recently ar
rived from Charleston, informed us of the
sudden demise of the wealthy merchant, the
hero of this sketch. Well indeed may it be
said, that, “ Truth is stranger than fiction.”
N. O. Pic.
Popping the Question. — It is a great pity,
and a shame too, that the ladies are not al
lowed to pop the question, as well as the
inen ; some men ore in love, and they don’t
know it; othevs are afraid to confess that
they are and between the two classes a
great many lovely flowers wither, unplucked,
on the patent stern. Sheridan Knowles, in
his late play, • The Secretary,” makes his
hero : ne—a beautiful creature, full of purity
and truthfulness—pop the question in full I
round terms ; and she is accepted, too.—
We do not fancy this squeamishness thut
keeps a maiden’s mouth closed, when her
heart is full. John Neol, who goes in for
all sorts of female rights, should stand up
stoutly for this one in particular.
Grccnough's Statue of Washington. —We
learn from the New York Express, that a
pedestal, composed of two blocks of beauti
fully hammered Quincy granite, tho base
oue weighing 15 tons and the die 33 tons,
has recently been forwarded from Boston
to Washington, upon which is to be placed
Greenough’s Statue of Washington. On
the die part i tastefully wrought the follow
ing appropriate sentiment ; 44 First in war,
first in peace, and first in the hearts of
his eguptiymen.” 1
Suffering and Resignation.— The editor
of the Lowell Courier in describing a visit
to lire Alms house of that town, gives the
following affecting picture of suffering, res
ignation and maternal love :
“In this room were seated a widowed
mother and a daughter. The little girl wa
about nine years of age, and has been, and
now is sorely afflicted with a disease affect
ing tho bones ot her body. Several smalt
hones have come out of her feet and hands
and on her right cheek, near her eye, j s a
dark spot in process of healing. We felt a
deep interest in this poor little child of sor
row. She has the most serene and heaven
ly expression on her white countenance, e
ever beheld. Her eyes are large and dark
—her features regular and beautiful. She
has lived an age of suffering, that poor young
girl, tho only remaining solace of a widow
ed mother, on exile from her native land
the inmate of a poor-house. The mistress
told us that a few months ago she lost a child
bv death, which caused her much grief.—
This widowed mother came to her und in
the simple ami touching pathos of an Irish
heart, endeavored to console her. ‘ Why,’
said she, 4 Mrs. Day, should you mourn your
loss so severely 1 Think of me and of my
sorrows, of my child and the afflictions she
has suffered. How many deaths she has
died ! How much anguish I have borne,
and lies hidden in this poor heart of mine!”
Bishop Elliot, of Georgia, has lately pub
lished a sermon, in which he says :
“ it will be a happy day for the church
when her clergy and laity shall plant them
selves firmly upon the four principles of tin's
sermon : That wealth can be lawfully and
innocently gotten only by labor. That in
the choice of rulers, virtue and wisdom an*
lo be preferred to party. That education is
not the mere acquisition of knowledge, hut
includes moral and teligious training. That
the religion of Cbcist is not the fruit of ex
citement, but of seriptKral instruction, uni
ted with prayer and watchfulness. Such
principles would in these days make her
members, what the Scripture says all Chris
tians ought to be, * a peculiar people.’ ”
Tunnahill. —There is something extreme
ly touching in the history of this beautiful
lyric poet, who as a song-wtiter hardly
yields to Burns himself.
He fell n victim to his extreme and un
common sensibility. Being at a public mee
ting, where he was almost altogether a stran
ger, some young men near him began to
talk slightly and with ridicule of those
woiks in which he fondly hoped he would
live long after his bones had been resolved
into their kindred dust. He went home in
an agony of soul not to he conceived or des
cribed ; and having looked out some of his
favorit munuscr'pia, he read tUin over,‘and
dashed them into the flames. He never
smiled nor held up his head afterwards.—
lie wandered about among tho most glnomv
and sequestred solitudes; for the busy hunt
of society, and the more cheerful aspect of
nature, ore agony to a hiuisrd and retiring
spirit. It pi eyed on his mind that the light
reckless criticism he had heard was the gen
eral ojiinion of the world regniding his pro
ductions. Life became an insupportable
burden after his fond dny dreams of renown
were dispelled; arid, a few days afterwards,
he was found drowned not far fiom his na
tive town of Paisley.
Striking Lesson. —“ You teach,” said the
Emperor Trajan to Kahhi Joshua, “that
God is everywhere, and that lie resides a
motia your nation. I should like to seo
him.”
‘.‘God’s presence is indeed every where.”
replied Joshua, “but he cannot he seen, no
moital eye can behold his glory.”
The Emjieror insisted.
“ Well,” said Joshua, “suppose we try to
look first at one of His embassadors.”
The Emjieror consented. The Rabbi
took him into the open air at noonday, and
bade him look at the sun in its meridian
splendor.
“ I cannot,” said Trajan, “ tho light daz
zles me.”
“ Thou art unable,” said Josbua, “to en
dure the light of one of his creatures —and
cansf thou expect to behold the resplendent
glory of the Creator ? Would not such a
light annihilate thee TANARUS”
Honesty the best Policy. —The Rochester
Democrat gives a forcible illustration of this
sentiment in the case of a lad who was
“ proceeding to an uncle’s to petition him
for aid for his sick sister and her children,
when he found a wallet containing sso.
Ihe aid was refused, and the distressed
family was pinched with want. The boy.
revealed his fortune to his mother, but ex
pressed a doubt about using any portion of
the money. His mother confirmed his good
resolution—the pocket book was advertised
and the owner found. Being a inan of
wealth, upon learning the history of the.
family, he presented the SSO to the sick
mother and took the boy in his service ; ahd ;
he is now one of the most successful met>
chants in Ohio. Honesty always brings its
rewaid—to the mind if not to the pocket,”
ft?* For the benefit of bashful young,
gentlemen, who know not exactly how far
they may go in using terms of endearment
towards the gentle sex, we have selected!
the following important instructions from a
London journal :
A bachelor may address a lady as “ Mad
nm ;” if, however, he claim an acquaintance
with her, he may employ the terms “ dear
Madam;” and should there be a little hit
of tender attacment, 41 My very dear Mad
am but in case of being in love, and an
interchange of affection be evinced, some
thing like the endearing term of “dear girl”’
may he used. Always use 44 dear girl'**
when the object addressed is over thirty.,
for at that age women like to be thought
young. When a man ig head over ears in,
love, and the woman he addresses in asitnk
lar predicament, the more extravagant tho
terms wed to convey his passion, the more,
will his suit he admired Remember, al
wns address a woman over thirty as 44 my
dearest girl,” or 14 charming girl.”