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‘* TKni ha ben sic gesagt ?” : **j>’ 1 lie German in a querulous manner, brushing more furiously at -the walls os lie spoke. •’ What 1’! said Ichabod. ** It's-another parley roo,” said Jemima. “ No, it aint.” returned Ichabod ; “ ther’s no hair do his face. Look here—sriv, mis ter 1” : , ‘ “ Ichfcrstek ihn nieht,” etfclaimed-ilie sur ly German. “ Darnalion ! if there's any gitfiti’ a word **ut o’ them at all in English, Jemima ! and, by hokey, I don’t know what to do. Let’s go on.” At length they came to a house with a courteous Frenchman in it, who could un derstand them and speak tlieir own lan guage. He told them they could have the house on the Ist of November, and that the rent would be twenty-five dollars per month. Reckon that’s 100 much—aim it. Jemi ma ? Couldn’t say fifteen—could you 1” said Ichabod, turning to his friend. Ah, tin, sair—twenty-five dollar is too much low.’’ “ ■ ‘• Rather guess it's too high,” said Icha- Tiod. “You aint got no objections to let us seo it. have you 1” “ No, monsieur” “ Well, I swon ! you talk English raal good for u parley roo.” “ O, monsieur, rengainez r.os rompfimrns,” said the Frenchman with a low bow. “ Well, that aint so good,” returned Irii aboJ; “ but howsomever, I reckon this house is ton high.” ” One story —it is no more t” replied the Frenchman, shrugging up his shoulders and raising his eyebrows. “ No, no,” said Ichabod; “ I mean the rent is too high.” ” Ah, de rent!—O, no, sair ; it is sheep— rery sheep,” returned the French landlord. “ Sheep,” said Tcbabod— * well, any how, 1 guess I aint sheep enough to give it.— flood morning, mnutiseer; guess we'Ji have to go furthpr.” There was a good long bowing match be tween the Frenchman and the Yankee, for Ichabod seemed to be determined not to be outdone in civility ; but be got tired at last, and said he’d be “ dod denied if he’d break his neck, bowing, for any parley too.” At length the Yankee stranger was di rected to a house which promised to suit his economical views; ami after a little fur ther difficulty he found out the landlord, who was also a Frenchman, and, with ac customed courtesy, Ichabod and Jemima were requested to take seats and remain fur a few moments. Presently the other gen tleman rose to depart saying as ho left, ” Then, this afternoon the lease will be ready 1” “ Dig afternoon, sair—yes, sair,” said the Frenchman. “Ah, yes!—now, sair,” he continued, turning to Ichabod. ; ** Well,” said Ichabod, I reckon I only jest come to look after that house you’ve got to let.” “ Sair, it is just gone out the door!” said the Frenchman. “ Hey !” ejaculate ! Ichabod. “Yes, sair. Ha! ha! yon say funny— you come to look after. Yes. sair; you shall look out, and you shall look after toe house! Ha, ha, ha! Yes, sair. Moiirieur, I must tell you the gentleman von see go out the door has lake the house with him, Ha, ha!—yes, look after! After is a droll word.” Ichabod found another house, arid anoth er old Fienchmnn was the landlord. It was a poor little shanty, with only two diminu tive and inconvenient rooms, and yet the first question the gouty, snuffy old French man asked of Ichabod, when the application was made, was—“ Well, sair, what is you want for de house? It no is for boarding house ?” “ No,” said Ichahod. No, sair; I will not let my house for a boarding-house, de people are so careless and so mischievous—dey break, and dey cut up evety ting! Sair, you no are Yan kee ?” “ I’m from down-east,” said Ichabod. “ Ah, yes ; you no are Yankee?” ” Why, bless you, I’m from way down cast!” replied the sly Yankee; and the Frenchman would have sworn that he had got au answer in the negative. ”Eh,bien! Ido not like Yankee mail —On ne sail a quelle sauce le mrttre. He will always have knife, and veettle, weeitie, resettle —he will cut up all what is come in his way. 1 will no let my house to Y ankre man.” Ichabod didn’t relish this fellow, and left him. He wandered about almost from one end of the city to the other, and got at lust n flue, pleasant,and even commodious house, for fifteen dollars a month, high up in the second muneipafity, among those streets with the classic names, this side of Lafay ette, Now, we shall see Ichabod in ten years a rich man. J Costly Trophy. —We find the follow ing in one of Mr. Weed’s letters from Eng land f The dining litiJl at Chelsea hospital is hung with trophy colors atid stondanh, from the Duke of Miu leborough’s victorious bat tle of Hleniieiin, Vo the inglorious butcheries ut Urn British army i China. Among these emblems of British valor, nre the sanguina ry evidences that England has been fli. war with almost all the nations of the earth.— There are three Mauds of American colors, displayed in the hull. Otic was taken at Washington, 1 could not learn tire history sis the other two; but au old veteran, who heard me inquiring, came up anil remarked that lie hua'ti.a pensioner, who was in the fight when ne of them was taken, say— '• that stand of colors cast most more British blood than any other stand of colors in the hall.” There.is nothing very mortifying in aeeing two or three cajitive American ea gle*, with ”B Pturibus Unum” in a scroll suspended from their talons, ptovided-lbeje is neither dishonor nor cowardice united with their capture. And, il it were other wise, I should be indemnified by the reflec tion that in the way of trophies, we can dis play ten times the number of British colors,_ flags, cannon, and ships of war: evidences of American valor and prowess, mQB©EtL L A M Y ■ THE GROWTH AND POWER OF THE UNITED STATES, i Since the complete establishment of the i American constitutional government, the fu i tore growth and ultimate power of the (Jni • ted States have been n problem both with philosophers and political economists.— There are two strongly-exciting causes to this species of speculation. The first to dis cover the effect of the freest institutions man : kind lias ever adopted, on the happiness and ! prosperity of the people under their influ ent** ; ar.d the next to discover the natural i growth of the only nation which, since the earliest ages of the world, lias born left un disturbed in its natural progress. Half a century has not wholly determined these problems, beyond a contingency : but it has furnished us with some elements of the ul timate result. Those, especially, which re late to physical grywih and power, may be regarded as leading to certainties of result, beyond any disturbing causes, except that of Divine Providence. The future prospect is important, in considering our relations with other nations, and in determining our j national policy. For this cause we piopose i to take a biids-eye view of the natural ca | pabilities of the United States. | The surface of the United States compre j bench a space of about two millions two hundred anJ fifty thousand square miles, and is about one twentieth of the land surf ace of the Earth, More than oue half of this surface lies between the 35th and 45th de gree of latitude. It is, therefore, in the very beaitof the temperate zone, whete nature brings men and fiuits to the highest meas ure of comparative excellence. The circumference or border line of the United States is about nine thousand fee hundred miles in length. It may be divided thus: Boundary in common with Brit* i jsh N. America, about, 3,700 miles, i’oundary in common with Mex ico, 2,300 “ Coast or’the Pacific, 700 “ Coast of the gulf of Mexico, 1,000 “ Coast of the Atlantic, I,SOO “ Total, 0,700 The territory thus enclosed includes also nearly ten thousand miles of lahc and riv'f navigation, of which two tliiids is in the val ley of the Mississippi. The great lakes make a chain of about two thousand miles ; the Mississippi two thousand more; the Missouri two thousand more : the Ohio near ly one thousand ; and hundreds of minor streams from the St. Croix to the Sabine, make up thousands more. It is important to observe, that this exten sive country is admitted by geographers of foreign nations to have the most various soil, climate, and pioductions, of any coun try upon the globe. The inevitable conse quence is, that its capabilities tor population ami wealth are correspondingly great. No country can surpass it in the capacity for production. Os the whole two millions two hundred thousand square miles of surface, only about two bundled and fifty five thousand lie in the Atlantic slope, and two thirds of the whole lie in the valley of the Mississippi.— To estimate rightly the population which, under the natural and well-known laws of increase, will arise and be readily maintain ed on this suiface, it is necessary first to consider for a moment the arability andfer tility oftlie Mississippi basin. The first fact we observe is, tbit the riv ers of this basin are remarkably long. For example, the main stream ot the Mississip pi rises,near latitude 48 degrees, and joins the gulf of Mexico about 29 degrees—thus running through about 20 degrees of lati tude. The Red river, of Louisiana, is estimated by Mr. Darby at one thousand miles in length. The Ohio, on the eastern ride, is also one thousand, ascending to the heads of the Monongahcla, and Allegany. The result ol this is of vast importance. The rains and melted biiows, which occasion the annual floods, fall oil distant mountains, and raise those streams to great heights, pouring forth a vast volume of water. In propor tion to the length ot rivers, and their annual rise, must nrressaiily be the alluvial lands they feed. This is sufficiently illustrated by the liver Nile, whose annual floods, com ing from the distant mountains of Africa, occasion the fertility of Egypt. In connexion with this fact, we have an other of equal consequence : that in this vast region there is very little space occupied by mountains, marshes, or lakes, incapable of production. Almost the whole suiface is arable. These great facts, taken in connex ion with its locality in the midst of the tem perate zone, determine the conclusion, that this great American basin is capable of pro ducing more grain, and consequently main tabling more peoplo than any other equal space on earth. So far p.s our cultivation i has extended, the practical result corres- I ponds with this theory deduced from geo- I graphical facts. The question of American population has i become of great interest to speculators on the future progress and condition oflhe hu man family : for, heretofore, the United States has populated with a rapidity beyond any conceptions vvliich had been formed 1 from the basis of European statistics. In the various estimates which have been made ! of the progress of American population, , there are two, particularly of note. One by i Darby, in a most excellent work, “ View of ilit.* United Status;” and the other by Pro feasot Tucker. Mi. Derby’s estimate was made before the census of 1830, and is therefore subject to two tests: Estimate. Reality. 1830 14,094.000 12,56G,000 1840 19.335,000 17,063,000 But an important fact is to be noticed.— The greatest error in Mr. Darby’s estimate was in the number of slaves, which accoul ing to his estimate Would have lieen in 1840, 4,114,000, But were ir. fact, 2,487,000. Being a difference of estimate equal to ! more than one half the whole number of slaves. It is to bo observed that this over estimate of the growth of the slave popula tion has pervaded tba calculation of all wri Urn m mm & w ah tr* | ters on the subject. They have never al* i lowed enough for the two ceat slarr-rluhs, | emancipation and bail fotubticii. Mr. Der by proceeds to make nri estimate for . ..< ! ’ year till 1940, one century from tins time. The following arc some of the results : • IS6O, 3:>. 167.000, 1900, 115,000,000,’ 1940, 386,000,000. Professor Tin ker. in his calculations, pub lished in Hunt’s Merchants’ Magazine, as sumes that the ratio by winch our popula tion lias increased will not long continue the same but will gradually diminish as the number c.F ireisons increese to the square mile. This is u mere matter of speculation ; but when the people have become very dense, undoubtedly this is ttue ; but Rscach new State is as fresh and fruitful as the old est was, this check will nor happen very soon. It is to lie observed that the in< tease from 1820 to 18 to was pt r cent., which dAt i hies in little more than twenty-four yenaa. This ration on the population extant one bundled years ago, will give ike oreM-nt ac tual result. So that this is the i ni •ntm? . increase of the American population. Pin fessor Tucker’s calculations give these it suits : 1900, 80.000,000, 1940. 200.000,000. Comparing the estimate of Darby and Tucker, and taking the mean, it may be con sidered certain that, without Divine interpo sition to the contraiy, one century vu!l in crease the population of the United States to three hundred, million. It may he interesting to ti v the ulti- J mate capabilities of the American tet. w , Ireland contains eighteen thousand six bun- j dred miles sqtiate of surface, arid eight mil- j lions of persons. Notwithstanding this di versity of population. Ireland has yet a great deal of waste land. It|isceitain thet the United States ran contain as great a propor tional population as Ireland. Take the same proportion, and it gives the United States an ultimate capacity of containing right hundred millions of people, more than the entire population of the globe! In a historical point of view', the period may not be long before that prodigious result is reached ; for, in history, two or three cen turies is not a great pillion of time. There is nothing in all this for the people of the United Slates to make a boast of; but there js much for gratitude, and much for courem phSion. Tho present generation will nev er see those astonishing results ; but they are doing what will certainly influence widely these advancing millions. We do not believe that pcditical society admits of much reformation in its old age, which w;is not attempted in its youth, any more than an old man is apt to chan ire the habits ot his life. The foundations we w ish the- vart po litical society to stand upon, we ought to have no! only laid, but iuum fimily built op at this very time. In \rin and we ginw.it we grow not wisely. The power which tbi > United States must have to mriUmii a hap py liberty, is an intelligent moral power They must do right, and do right intelligent ly. The great levers of this power ate the school, the press, and the church. The school needs to he more elevated, the press to be purer and bettor. Con we not attain a higher and better standard ? To a nation like our own ir.gnorance is death ; the loss of virtue annihilation. We are trying to unite interests the most diverse and jarring, and to bind in one bond of union the hot and fiery disposition of the man living within the tropic, with the cold calculating inhabitant of the Green moimtain ; but men of all cli mates are not men of one mind—their char acter is moulded by the things passing around them : it lakes a stamp ftom the scenes of early life, an impress from nature. The Italians, under all their changes of gov ernment, are continually the same people. Overcome, trodden down, trampled under foot, there is an elastic resiliency that forev er hears them up again. It matters not vvliat public calamities betide them, or what ! national woes are stored up for them in the tomb of time, another Volta w ill reveal the mysteries of nature —another Canova will breathe the breath of life into the muiLles ofCartara—anothei Catalina will euchni all Europe with her song. The san e causes which determine these things there, arc in tenfold action here. We have no surely of continuance, except from the increasing in telligence of our people. Tragedy prevented by Farce During the French Revolution, when a fVantn l ali ble, on slight provocation, hung any man on the nearest lamp-po-t M chau, the comic actor, fell into iiie u it, is of . Ueel parad ing banditti, who d> toed him to die in hon or of tin* Cap of Liberty. His a -;!nw* .a selected, iiis coat taken off, and the lope about to be put round his neck, when a butcher boy, who had seen him perform, came to his assistance, “Madmen! you know not what you do. You ore going to ‘ bang Punch of the Republic?” (r he (joined ie Frftocais was at that time called the. The- ! Stic de la Ropubliqiie). Thanks to his ti- I tic of Punch, bestowed on him by the butch- ‘ er, Michau found himself at liberty, nd i< ! said to have accepted the apologii :■ winch ‘ Hvo hundred ruffians offered • <ol!y, for their design ofhanging him, ns if tin y had simply trodden on bis toes. i A Genius. —There is a genius in Portland, Main,who, as the tiansceiideutatist would say, is individuality with duialily and | b.,,d ----ily. His name is Daniel Evans, Hr prints mourning pieces, makes card melts,exp ,nds scripture, composes spiritual soi*/aud tern- i perance ballads, is a professor! of animal i magnetism, neurology, phrenology and as- i trology, tells fortunes, extracts eoiW charms away warts, gives recipes for the compound- | irgof matchlesssanatives, life piling revivify ing elixirs .and poor men’s plasters, iaKi • portraits and miniatures, is n main on the fiddle, accordion and jew’a-harp, extracts teeth, defies the world as an inventor of per petual motions, knows llyle by heart, is ft caution to Millerism, and cun turn twenty three somersets without stopping ! Hl-Assorted Marriage. Life has no wretchedness equal to an ill-assorted mar riage-.i: is the sepulchre of the heart, haunt- j ed by the ghost of past affections, and hopes 1 £ou e by forever, The Unfaithful Servant —A noble Duke I of Scotland, in one of his’ walks, chanced [ one day to see a very fine cow. Having j ai-certiiiried to whom the animal belonged, f he* went to the owner, Btul offered him 8 handsom price for her. For a time the lat *ter hesitated, hut at length accepted it, and promised to drive the cow the next morn ing. Not finding it convenient to go himself, the frirmet sent his boy to drive the cow.— On approaching the house, the animal ap peared frightened, and refused to proceed. At the time, the Duke happened to be walk : ing at ti short distance, and the hoy, not l knowing who he was, craved his assistance, ; in hi- Scotch brogue. “ Heh, mull, come here, trst’ gic’a a ban’ 1 wT this beast.” I The Duke, perceiving the hoy's mistake, ; ptiiMierl his walk, without appearing to un derstand if. In the maen time, the cow” bc i hrne slid more unmanageable, upon which tlic lad, with a tone of apparent distress, j ‘-tied out, “ Come here, mun. and as sure's anything, I'll g ; e ye the haufo’ what I get.” i I*l nfed with the boy’s manner, and es • • :liv wirh hia generosity, the Duke now | stepped forward as requested, and lent a . helping hand. “ And now,” said the Duke, as they drove the cow forward, “how much do you think you will get for this job ?” “ Oh, l dinna ken,” said the boy, but I’m sure’o something, for the folk up bye at the i house are gtiid to a’ bodies.” As they approached the house, the Duke j <!;u ted by the hoy, ami, entered by a private way, called a servant, and putting a sover | eign into his. hand, bid him give it to the i boy that diove the cow. The Duke now returned to the avenue, and was soor. rejoined by the hoy. “ Well, and bow much did you get, my lad ?” inquired tbe Duke. “A shilling,'’ said the boy, “and here's hslf o’t t’ ye.” “ A shilling !” rejoined the Duke, “ only a shilling ! got no more.” “ No i dinna,” said tbe hoy with great earnestness, “as sine’s death, that’s a’l got and d’ye no think it plenty ?” “ 1 do not,” said the Duke ; “there must be some mistake, and as I am acquainted with tbe Duke, if you’ll return with me, I’ll g* f you some more money.” The bov consented, ud back they went. The Duke tang the bell, and ordered all the servants to he assembled. “ Now,” said the Duke to the boy, “point out to me the person that gave you the shil ling.” “It was the chap there, wi’ the white apron,” said the boy pointing to the bailer. “Yu:, villian” said the Duke. Tlu* butler fell upon his knees, and con fessed the wricked act. ‘• Give the bov the sovereign, and im mediately leave y bouse,” said the Duke. The liutler implored. “No,” said The Di:*u\ “'you are no long er to be trusted. You htiVe fi*en detected .a an act of villisny, which renders'Vou unfit to set ve me. You have lost your shilling, your situation, and your character. Go, end henceforth learn that ‘honesty is the best policy.’ ” By this time, the boy discovered to his am aztmiont, his assistant, in the person of the Duke; and the Duke was so delighted with the sterling worth and honesty of the boy, that be ordered l int to be sent to school, and to be provided for at hij own expense. The Furlough. —ln the autumn of 1825 some private affairs called me into the sif ter kingdom ; and as 1 did not travel, like Polyphemus, with my eye out, I gatedred a few samples of Irish character, amongst which was the following incident : 1 was standing one morning at the win dow of •* mine Inn,” when my attention was attracted by a scene tfa* took place beneath, The Belfast coach was standing nt the floor, ami on the ‘ oof, in front, srie a solitary out side p.i-seiigt i, a fine young fellow in tbe uniform of 1 1• • - Connaught Rangers, Be low, by the front wheel, stood an old wo man, seemingly bis mother; a young wo .man, sister ei sweetheart ; and they were all earnestly entreating tbe young soldier to dr sceiid from his seat on the coach. “ Come Uown will ye, Thady”—the speak er was the old woman—“ come down now to your oul.l mother; sure it’s flog ve they will and strip the flesh off the hones iv ye. Come down, Thady, dariin.” “ It’s honor, mother,” was the short reply of the soldier; and with clenched hands and set teeth, he took a suffer posture on the coach. “ Thady, come down—come down, ye fool of the world—come along down wid ye.” The tone of the present appeal was more impatient an I peremptory than the last ; and the answer was more promptly and sternly pronounced : “ It’s honor, bro ther,” and the body of tbe speaker rose more rigidlv erect than ever on the roof. “ O Thady. cutne down, sure it’s me, your own Kathleen, that bids ye, come down, or ye’ll break the heart of me, Tha dy jewel: come down then.” The poor girl wrung fi. r hands ns she said it, and c't-u . look up Mi ‘ ‘fiat hud a visible effect on flip nu . o’ 1 1- ■ ,■ ‘..uiui iuii.ee. Filet;- , • • .'i rr.f ,in ‘stone, but i ...- :,.n. i ..a on as bef.ne. ’ !. -is n >r, ii; • r bright, Kathleen,” and as n to (i. tfi.ni himself from another glance, no fixed his look steadfastly in front, while the renewed cnticaties burst from all three in chorus, with the same answer. “-Come down, Thady, honey. Thady, ye fool, come down. O Thady come down to me.” honor mother, it's honor, brother, xronoi ought, tin • • vvii Kathleen.” Although the poor fellow was a private, this appeal was so public that 1 did not hes itate to go down and inqtiiie into the partic ulars of flie distress. It appeared that he had been home, on furlough, to visit his lani- | <ily, and having exceeded, as lie thought, the term of his leave, he was going to rejoin his regiment, and to undergo the peuulty of his neglect. 1 Hiked him when the fur lough expired ? “ The first of Match, your honor— had luek to it of pll the hlaek day* in the world —and here it is, come sudden on me, like a shot.” “ The first of March, wliy my good fel low, you have a day to spare then—the first of March will not lie here till to-morrow. — It is leap year, and February has twenty nine days.” Theaoldier was thunder-struck. “Twen ty-nine days is it ? you’re sartain of that same. Oh, mother, mother, the devil lly away wid yere mild almanack—a base crn tur of a book, to be decaven one, afthsr so i lone: in the family of us.” His first impulse was to cut a caper on tiieroof of the coarb, and throw up bis cap with a loud hurrah. His second was to throw himself intothe arms of his Kathleen ; and the third was to wring my hand off in acknowledgement. “ It’s a happy man I am, your honor, for my word’s saved, and all by your honor’s manes. Long life to your honor for the same. May ye live a long hundred—and lspe-year everyone of them.” The Romance of the Past. —We have on our table, the address of the Hot:. George Robertson delivered othe4lh of July, 1843, at Camp Madison, Iv"< It is full of inletest ing historical details, and abounds in wise remark and just reflection. The orator did well, however, in going back to the early days of the West: to the first settlements, when thick per il surrounded every log but, when every inhabitant cultivated his field, or worshipped his God, with arms in his hands ; and when woman, as well as man, felt as if she too must sustain even the stur dier duties oflife. Scene? like there were often full of romantic incident and wild ad venture, and sounding to us nunc like fic tion than truth. The following narration is one among many refer red to by Judge Rob ertson, and will not fail to interest many, if not all our readers ; — Cin. Gaz. And in “the Blue Lick defeat,” August tire 20th, 1788, the cormorant of death fed greedily on the flower of the first settlement On that darkest of their gloomy days every settler lost a friend, and nearly every family a prop. And on that bloody field the Cols. Todd and Ttigg- ti e chivi Ir.ms Capt. liar land, and the gallant son of Boone, lay un distinguished among the promiscuous slain, all soon mangled by devouring wolves and vulters, so as nut to lie recognized by their friends who, three days slier the battle bu ried the fragments. A few of their crum bling bones, since collected by their country men, now lie exposed to the elements, in a confused pile, on the summit of the bleak and rocky plain where the heroes fell. We ! cannot now imagine the grief and despon dence with which the mournful intelligence of that day’s catastrophe coveted the land. But the survivors, though wofnlly bereaved, were not to be discouraged or dismayed.— f They were resolved never to look back or faltei in theirfirst and Inst resolve to conquer tlie wilderness or die in the attempt. Is rae ‘ God stood by cud sustained the no ble but forlorn band— fi.i their cause was his. On the long roll of that days reported slain were the names of a few who had in fact been captured, and, after sutviving the oidcoi of ibe gauntlet, had been pennitted to live as captives. Among- these was an excellent husband and father who, with elev en other captives, had been taken by a tribe, painted black as the signal of torture and death to all. The night after the battle, tin so twelve prisoners were stripped and placed in n line on a log—lie to whom we have especially alluded being at one extrem ity of the devoted row. The cruel captors, then beginning at the other end, slaughtered eleven, one by one ; but when they cairn to tht only survivor, though they raised him up also and diew theii bloody knives to strike under each up lifted arm, they puu.-i<\ mid after a long pow wow. spared his lit* —why, be never knew. Foi about’ 0.0 year none of bis friends, t xc< pting his faithful wife, doubted lis dentil. She, hoping against reason, still insisted that he lived and would return to her. Wooed by another, she from time to time, postponed the nuptials, declaring that she could not divest herself of the beliefthat her husband survived. Her expostulating friends finally succeeding in their efforts to stifle lier affectionate instinct, she reluctant ly yielded, and the nuptial day was fixed. But just before it dawned the crack of a rifle was heard near bet lonly cabir:—at the fa miliar sound, she leaped out, likpa liberated fawn, ejaculating us sprang—“ that's John's gun l” It was John’s gun, sure enough; and, in an instant, site was, once more, in her lost husband’s arms. But nine years afterwards, that same husband fell in “ St. Clair’s defeat”—and the same disap pointed, but persevering, lover renewed bis suit—and at last, this widow became bis wife Thcscenenf theso romantic incidents was within gunshot of mv natal homestead, and with that noble wife and matron I was myself well acquainted. Over-Education. —At no period of youth should education he pushed beyond its prop er limits, or the mind be worked beyond its powers ; the welfare of the pupil demands the observance of this rule on the part of the master as well as the parents, more espe cially when the child belongs to that class of strumous children whose intellects are pretei naturally cute. Unfortunutely, how- ! ever, these are generally the pupils selected by the masters to do credit to their estab lishment ; every means are taken to encour age this premature manifestation of the mind, and to stimulate the child to renewed ettei lions ; and tbu3 the health is enfeebled, aud even life is often sacrificed at a period of brilliant promise, when the hopes of friends are buoyed lip by fallacious expec tations, which a more rational system of ed ucation might have realized. Dancing. —“ I am now an old fallow,” says Cowper, in one of his letters ; “ but I bad once my dancing days as you have now; yet I could never find that 1 could learn half so much of a woman’s real character by dancing with her, a? conversing with her at home, when . 1 could observe her behavior at a table, or at the fiieside, and in all try ing scenes of domestic life. We are ail good, when pleased; but she is the good woman who want* not the fiddls to sweeten b*r,” Polar nf the Hvdton Bay Company .— “ Few among us are aware of the extraor dinary resources, mid wide-spreading plana, of this remarkable society, which has exetv cised, in its barren domains, a steady enter prising policy, not inferior to that of the East India Company itself; and now, in Mr. Fnrnham’s language, occupies and controls more than one ninth of the soil of the globe. The great business of this company is the fur trade, of which it is now nearly the sole monopolist throughout oft the choicest fur beating regions of North Ametica, with the exception of the portion occupied hy the Russians. The bulk of its empire is se cured to it hy charter; but it is in rv.’ ra _ sion ofOregon a9 debatable latid.ut t s o _ ulatiotis between Britain and t 1 nited States. The stock holders areßio.ah; the management of its affairs in America is car ried on by • partners,’ so called, but, in point of fact, agents paid by a proportion of the net income of the company. These aro scattered in various posts over the whole ter ritory between Hudson’s Bay and the Pa cific. The Governor General resides in. Yqik Factiff"Y on the former. They are chiefly Scotchmen; and a greater propor tion of shrewdness, daring, and commercial activity, is probably not to he found in the same number of heuds in the world. Be fore 1820. this body carried bn a fierce con test with the Northwest Company, attend ed with hideous battles of ludians'and half breeds, arid the binning and sacking each other’s posts. In 1821, thy two companies were consolidated, since which, they have had no British rival, aud have exerted all •their policy to reptess ittf.inference on the part of the Americans. In this they seem to have thoroughly succeeded. The attempts of the Americans to estab lish a fur trade of their own, one by one have ended in disappointment. Their own trap pers arid hunters prefer the markets of the company. Its agents seek out the Ameri cans—so, at least, they complain—out bid them and unoetsell them, in every point to. w hich they can penetrate. ‘ Pacific Fur Company’—the scheme of John Jacob As tor, com mem morau and by Washington It vino —those of Captain Wyeth, and many either American adventurers, have failed agniw-t. the strength and perseverance of the eld monopoly. Its traders supply the demand such as it is, both of Indians and white hun ters, for European goods over all the mirth west; for they are so id to sril twenty or thirty per t enl che ape r than American yoods; and ‘ there seems a certainty,’ savs Mr. Farnham, ‘ that the Hudson Bay Com pany will engross the entire trade of the North Pacific, as it has that of the* Oregon. So powerful is this body on the comment., that it has actually established a kind or a game law over a region twice as large as Europe, regulating the quantity of trapping to he done in particular distiicts, ana uni formly diminishing it whenever the returns show a deficiency in its production of a|ii mals. It keeps and white* in order, by putting serious pmcticc the threat of exclusive dealing. Mr. Farnham met with an American in Oregon, who in formed him that in consequence of some of fence taken, (very unjustly, of course,) ‘the Hudson Bay Company’ refused, for a num ber of years, to sell him a shred of cloth ; and as there are no other traders in the country, ho was compelled, during their pleasuie, to wear skins.” An ingenious Cradle of domestic manvfac-. lure, made by a gentleman in Mississippi* and sent as a present to a ftierd residing in this city. An extract from his letter is as., follows :(. ],o. lest or. C< V/ ‘‘ The body or ftnrre of the cradle is man ufactory and out of the shell of what we call the Fnapfimg Turtle, that weighed 135 pounds, caught by myself, out of my own wteis. The railing is constructed of the boms of Bucks, killed with my own rifle, by my own hands. The rockers are made from s walnut tiee that grew on my sister’s plan tation adjoining me. The spring malfrass. or lining is stuffed with wool from mv own, sheep. The loose mattrass is also’ filled with’domestic wool, manufactured and lined by mv own wife. The pillows are filled with feathers from our own wild geese, that have been also manufactured by my own wife, with her own bands, after having been previously slain by my own steady atm. — The pavilion which von will petceivc is to be thrown over the canopy was likewise fabricated, fitted and <outlived by rv 1 own right thrifty, ingenious and very indoMiioua better heelj Accompanying the cradle is a whistle, which Was made by a friend resid ing with me, out of the tusk of ar. alligator* slain by my own hand, as w ell as a fan mado aiso by the same friend out of the tail of a wild turkey killed by me ; cccn:nnsnymg the whole is the hide of a panther, diessed after the fashion of the chamois, the animal having been slain by my own hands, and with my own trusty rifle. This is for the stranger to 101 l and roll upon when tired of his cradle. “ It has been said for the famous Colonel Crockett, that be was fotched down upon a raft, and rocked in a bee gum. The stran ger, whatever may become bis name here after, may boast that he was rocked to sleep) in the shell of a swamp snapping turtle, lounged ar a panthers hide, was fanned by a wild Ini key s tail and cm b ; s teeth upon an alligator’s tusk ! Beat this who can,” Husbands. —The etymology of lint word may not be generally known. Tug bead of a family is called husband from the fact that he is, or ought to be the band which unites the house together—or the bond of union among the family. It is to be regret ted that all husbands are not house-bands in reality as well as in name.— Mcr. Jour. A Pun. —A wag, speaking of the embark ation of troops, said, “ notwithstanding many of them leave blooming wives behind, they go ewny in transports.” Wide Awake, —“ Come, come, pome,” said one who was wide awake fp pr.e who was fast asleep, “ get up, get up ; don’t you know it’s the early bird that catches the worm I” “ Seryes the worm right,” says the grumbling sleeker, “ worms should get up before the birds do I”