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fOBTET. FROM THE CONNECTICUT MIRROR. My peace is in the quiet vale, The chosen haunt of simple thought; I seek not Fortune’s flattering gale— I better love the peaceful lot. I leave the world of noisy show, To wander by my native brook; I ask in life’s unruffled flow, No treasure but iny friend and book. These belter suit the tranquil home, Where the clear water murmurs by: And if I wish a while to roam, I have an ocean in the sky. Fancy can charm, and feeling bless With sweeter hours than fashion knows; There is no calmer quietness, Than home around the bosom throws. V SONG. - Nay, twine the heath-flower void for me; It best, will suit my blighted lot; For I am flung negleetingly Abroad, where fostering love is not: And roses on mv aching brow V Too soon would lose their blushing glow; •V While on my throbbing bosom laid, 'NjFhe I'fs bloom in death would fade! ^wreath the folds of Beauty’s hair JMth the white jas’mine stars—their snow ]ow wijb purer seeming there, -» ! grace on loveliness bestow. ^delicate frail life will be id forth, in sweet luxuriancy, rich tresses where they lie* rd. in their own od’rous sigh! To th$ seraph, Hope, he given, Tp horjjago to her soft eyes’ hue, Thl.violet hud, which stoic from heaven, Its aitchless depth of star-light blue. Ent-jlie^lhe lyre of song to shade, liyrtlc’s shining braid ' me that flower alone i the desert thrown! As things FROM Oh! what If night ; If ocean "ne Who" = And if t he . Who could idelphia album. re joyif grief were never known? to not, who could rejoice in day? r into sf omvs were thrown, 1 id mire rt H* in pence it lay ? knew not tho lightning keen, L jht to see the blue serene ? And thus w* Her icy hand If pleasure ” m J And shoi Who could he If peace had -if sorrow neve' 1; i the glowing bn B man’s waiting! }>ftiuch1»s pilgrir Who (enjoy this [We are no l tcraturA&b&tite »rticlefoig«p«5ng8; but > as one ^^k^most.qngerfdus we •***pvefiMKi x*crasional enter- *to theee'wualBveto Search out hidden ENIGMA. t a word that does silence proclaim, Which backwards and forwards does still spell the same; Then add to the first a feminine name, Which backwards and forwards does still spell the same; An instrument too, which lawyers oft frame, An d backwards and forwards does still spell the same; And a musical note which all will proclaim, Both backwards and forward does still spell the same; , The initials of these, when join’d, form a name, Which every young lady that’s married will claim, And backwards and forwards does still spell the same. FROM THE TRENTON EMPORIUM. THE TEA TABLE. * Well, sir, I can take care of myself,* said Julia Pellew to her husband, as they were taking their tea together in their little parlor, one delightful summer evening. Just at this moment, and while the words were yet on her tongue, the door opened, and Miss Polly Gaw entered the room on one of her afternoon visits. Julia could not avoid colouring up a little at this sudden intrusion —for this young lady’s visits were always intrusive, ahd Miss Gaw evfdently saw or suspected she had dropped in at a moment when her company was not the mo3t desira ble.—However, she got herself seated, and entertained her good neighbour with a long history of the home concerns of every family in the neighbourhood, about three hours long. There was a minute account of Mrs. D’s party, with a list of all who were not invited, among whom was she most careful to remind that she, Julia, was one ; then the progress of the courtships in the country, the domestic squabbles of her acquaintan- ces; the scandals of the week; the ihotions of the old widower on the Appleby farm, be tokening an approaching union with the Squire’s daughter, and who were jealous thereat; and a hundred other topics’ equally interesting and profitabla, were all spread out on the carpet. Mr. Pellew made his escape soon from the table, and Miss Polly did not fail to comment largely on the savage unsociability of husbands, insisting that they were as rest less. and unhappy in the house as caged up tigers, and instancing how gay and young, and spruce they immediately became, on losing their wives, kindly and most sympa thetically adding, * if you were to drop off, my dear Julia, Mr. Pellew would, in ten days, be the most gallant and agreeable man in the village. After enjoying herself, and entertaining Julia thus delightfully, until it began to grow late, she gathered up her knitting, and sallied out to make a call or two more before she went home. Mr, and Mrs. Pellew were young, had been married but about a year, and were mutually as happy in their union as love and virtue, and similar tastes and dispositions could make them. He was engaged in a business which, with industry and good ipanagement, yielded him a good living; he bad embarked in it, however, without capi- ta! ; of his own; but Juba had a considerable amount of property, which, though the prin cipal was not under her control, was a basis upon which her husband was enabled to , (gain the credit necessary in his business. and he hpd.done so. This amiable iamily had numerous relatives add acquaintance^," werp looked upon by the,good and sensible part* of the neigli*>ourh<y6d as patterns 6f virtue, and were generjdlymuch beloved itnd admired. The visit of their friend Miss Polly was forgotten in a day or two; but things began, before long, to wear rather a strange aspect. Time after time, Mrs. Pellew observed that her visitors, who began to be much more numerous than before, put on long faces, and in a condoling strain, lectured on the trials of the married state, the necessity of forbearance, and of Christian patience, mingled with sundry hints about the sove reign rights of the sex, and the best method of managing,unruly husbands, with now and then a kind of half expressed svmpathetic pity for her. She could not, for her life, un derstand what ail this meant; and attributed it to every cause but the right one. Nor was Mr. Pellew to escape this new, and to him, unaccountable change of the current feeling among his neighbours to ward them. The first symptom he saw was a sullenness and coldness on the part of his wife’s relatives, some of them even refusing to speak to him. The female part of his ac quaintance scolded at him and what was worse, he thought his customers began to neglect him. Day after day, things grew worse—at last his creditors began to push— he was alarmed—he had never.before been asked for money; his credit had been per fect—he wondered and Waited for the issue —it came—in half a dozen prosecutions, judgments and executions. It was now time to rouse up were in progress, he appeared to be in utter surprise, and to view them with perfect in credulity, not being willing to believe scarce ly the evidence of his senses. Now, he de manded the cause of this strange treatment, and, with some difficulty, ascertained that it arose from the separation about to take place between him and his wife! and the cruel manner in which he had used her! He de manded the author of the story, and was re ferred to an old gentleman who had told his informer : the old man gave his frife : his wife her neighbour’s wife, and so the tale might he traced down through about five and twenty mouths, growing rather less at every step until it Cfrr.^o Miss Polly Gaw: shehadaffijpicd thatshe overheard Mr. Pel- wife collated in a violent quar- -htJ* and even heaid a distinct affirmation on her part that she would leave him Mr. Pellew now hit upon an expedient to bring matters to a close at once. He in vited all such of his wife’s relatives, his neighbours, his creditors, &c. as were with in his reach, to meet at his house on busi ness of the utmost importance. About twenty assembled, among them Miss Gaw, and half a dozen or more of the principal mouth pieces in the village. He then stated to them his business; recounted to thein the stories he had heard; traced them all down to their origin, and demanded ,of Miss Pollv her reasons for the report she had raised Cornered up so unexpectedly and suddenly, she candidly confessed that the only foun dation for what she had said was, that on the afternoon she had paid the visit first mentioned, she had heard, as she entered Mrs. Pellew say * Well, sir,' I can take care of myself.* And she wished 1o know Julia Pellew would deny this—Julia replied she would not—she had barbacued a pair of fine fat quails for her husband’s supper, and had been helping him t > a choice hit—he had pressed her to keep it herself, saying she was too kind: and she did, on the occa sion, utter the offensive words—* Well, sir. I will take care of myself.* A burst of astonishment succeeded. Miss Gaw ran out of the room like a woman who had lost her senses. The worthy couple received the congratulations of the honest people present; and though the knaves shook their heads and pretended to be mighty glad the truth had come out. it was with a grace that but half concealed ttieir sorrow.—Thereafter not a syllable was ever lisped about the before much talked of se paration. But thus it is, gentle reader, that one half of the tea-table stories originate ; and who would think there were still as many ready to believe them and trumpet them about, as there were in Aylesbury, in Polly Gaw’i time? with my ’own eyes, many time; and beautiful’s the grove of them that pers that I saw growing upon the trees at the Governor has in bis garden on the esplanade:—besides, the whole of the walls of the fortress are completely covered with : crous explanation and apology, said, * My them, as all my brother officers could attest ’ good fellow, I wish you had thought of that at this present time were they here to ! a little sooner. J Then, by the powers ! you only display ] running up to his wounded antagonist, he ^Our own want of understanding by so doing: took his hand, and pressing it eagerly, thus and I take it very uncivil 6f I’ve^aadrcssed :—‘ My dear frind! if yeVe kilt, I seen the anchovies grow upon the trees,ax yer pardon in this world and the next; many’s the hundred | for I made a divil of a mistake;—it was ca- * Then your doa^ that reads books! might I, beg to borrow a sight him 1’ ‘ Why to sneak the truth, as our circumstances are but nar row, we have sent the dog out to keep a school.* Malta, and not anchovies at all.” ‘ The wounded man smiling at his ludi- the fore, to do that same.’ killed me, but I don’t think you have quite I hope you will remember * Upon my soul,* returned his opponent, ‘ the difference between anchovies and capers laughing heartily, * you out-mandeville even ; as long as you live.* Sir John himself—and he was no flincher THE CLUBS OF ST. JAMES’S; •Qn d Characteristics of the Old School of Fashion.—By s an Octogenarian. « Anchovies on Trees.—* A few years ago,’ said Sheridan, * an Irish officer who belong ed to a regiment in garrison in Malta, re turned to this country on leave of absence and according to the custom of travellers was fond of relating the wonders he hacl seen. Among other things,,he one day, in a public coffee-room, expatiated on the ex celleacy of living in general among the mill tary. . * But,* said he, ‘ as for tho Anchovies by the powers, there is nothing to be seen like them in the known world !? * Why, that is a hold assertion,’ said gentleman present; ‘for I think Fngland can boast of that article in as great perfec tion as any country, if not greater.* * My dear Sur,’ replied the Irishman, * you’ll pardon me for paying that your opi nion is founded on sheer ignorance of the fact:—excuse my plain spaking; but you’d soon be of my thinking, if you saw the fruit growing so beautiful and large, as I have seen it many’s the day.* ‘Will done, Pat,* exclaimed ibis oppo nent, ‘ he fruit* growing so beautiful and large !—on a tree, I suppose? Come, you won’t beat that however.* ‘ Do you'douht the word of a gentleman, Sur V returned the officer. i~ ‘ I doubt the fact, Sir,’ answered the gen tleman. ■ " at a fit. He it was, I believe, who asserted that oysters grew upon trees.on the Mala bar coast; but you give anchovies, already pickled, from the same source! Huzza for St..Patrick J—the days of miracles have re turned !* / Then, Sur, returned the Irishman, bri dling with anger, ‘ami to understand that you doubt my word 'll You may understand, Sir, what /you please; but, though the license of travellers is generally allowed to be pretty extensive, you must not suppose that any gentleman in this company are to be crammed with an absurdity so palpable, as that of anchovies growing upon trees. As much as to say, Sur, in plain terms, thatY have told a lie?—say the word, Sur, and I am satisfied. I’m not quarrelsome, Sir, by my sowl! only say that, and you had better be born without a shoe to your foot, or a shirt to your back.* * Neither you, Sir,* returned the gentle man, ‘ nor any other man shall compel me to say that I believe that which by nature is impossible.* ‘ Then, Sur, I’ll beg lave to address a few words to this honourable company; after which, as my veracity and honour are con cerned, both as an officer and a gentleman, —if you do not retract your words, and own your conviction that what I have said is true, 1 shall, insist on your meeting me in another place, more convanient, may be, for settling disputes, than this room.* ‘ Go on, Sir,’ said the gentleman. ‘ In Che first place, then, gentlemen, upon my honour and conscience! as 1 have a soul to be saved and to escape the pains of pur- eatery! I swear by all the saints in the alendar, and the divil himself to boot, that T Would 'scorn to tell a falsehood to man or mortal—these very eyes have, on ten thou- and different occasions, seen the anchovies us plump as gooseberries growing, on and plucked from the trees in. his Majesty’s island and fortress of Malta. In the second place- impossible!* exclaimed his pertinacious opponent: ‘ 1 tell you to your face, and be fore these gentlemen, that you never saw any such thing.* . The lie direct!—By the rod of St. Pat rick ! it is more than a Christian officer can hear:-—but I’ll keep myself cool for the honour of the corps; and I’d advise you, Sur, if you can’t be aisy, that you’d better he as aisy as you can; for if you spaik such another disrespectful and injurious word,' I’ll not call you out at all; but. by the* powers! I’ll smite your eye out on the spot, and plaster the walls with your blood!—so you had better take care of yourself and not be cantankerous, my dear honey. But, to re turn to my argument, Sir, which you so un civilly interruptedI was going to observe, in the second place, to yourself, that it is a rule in the army, and more particularly in the honourable corps to which I belong, that no gentleman shall presume to doubt the word of. another, unless that he can positively prove that he is wrong, and that too on the spot. Therefore, Sur, even sup pose that I had told y° u a l*e> y° u have no right, by the laws of honour, to challenge me with it; because you never were at Mal ta at all, and of course could not see the thing with your own eyes., But, Sur, by way of conclusion to my discourse, I have to remark to ye, that you have not only in sulted an officer and a gentleman, but an Irishman; therefore I trust that every one present will see that I have sufficient reason for requiring satisfaction. ‘ Satisfaction!—pooh! pooh! ,for what ? for a mere difference of opinion? Nonsense!* exclaimed several of the party. * I beg your pardon, gentlemen, no,'dif ference of opinion at all: he has given me the lie; and Cprnailius O’Flanagan’s own father’s son won’t take the lie from a man or mortal, even, as I said before, if it was true. Do ye know the way we begin fight ing in Tipperary ? I’ll tell ye, if ye don’t: Paddy chalks his hat, d’ye see, all round FROM THE MONTREAL HERALD. The story of the man of his Majesty’s 71st Regiment falling overboard from the Chambly steamboat, between Long Point and Montreal, .and so miraculously appear ing on the beach before his comrades had disembarked, reminded me of a circum stance that occurred during my servitude on board the Dolphin Man of War. bound to the West Indies. We were going at the rate of about three knots and a half, when Tom Garboard, belonging to the foretop, (who, by the by was a bit of a wag.) sleep ing in the lee forechains, by a sudden lurch of the ship was thrown overboard. A man overboard! ! ! was the general cry fore and aft—and every one ran to offer, or give assistance to the drowning man. Tom who was a tolerable good swimmer, as every body thought, but nothing extra ordinary, woke up, on finding himself in deep water and began to use his paddles, the ship passing ahead as I was saying be fore, at the rate of three knots and a half. Tom was soon lost sight of under the coun ter, (for although our ship was not on Sop ping’s plan, yet she was pretty full abaft,) when Tom was lucky enough to get hold of the rudder chains. The hands all run aft expecting to see Tom astern, and to lower the jolly boat down to pick him up; but no Tom was to be seen. “ He is gone,” said they, “ to Davy’s locker,” and efforts ceas ed. Our ship was very deep, bound out to the West Indies, consequently our gun room ports were low in the water. This Tom saw, and as it was getting dark, he thought he would wait till they had beat to quarters, and piped the hammocks down, before he got on board, which he did, and then pop ped down into the lady’s hold (where the gunner keeps his wads and spare monkies rails.) and there remained till the middle of the first watch, when he sallied forth and made free with our bread bags, taking enough to serve him for three days. At the end of this time, we were jogging along at an easy rate with scarcely any wind, about a knot, when master Tom. unobserved, slips opt of the port he came in at, and dropping astern began to hail the ship. “ The Dol phin a-hoy! !** “ Holloa.” says the Quar termaster. who was abaft getting a pull of the mainbrace. ? Says Tom, “ If you dont back the maintopsail and heave too, I shall sink,Tor no man can swim to the West In dies without provisions.” Every body run aft in amazement, for it had been blowing fresh during the time we supposed he had been overboard : but the re wa3 no time to be lost—so the boat was lowered, and poor Tom picked up, to the great gratification and astonishment of every body on board. ' On our arrival, as the Captain was on shore dining with the Governor, the talk turned upon swimming. The Governor was extolling the powers of a Black man lie had, and our Captain swore no man could swim with Tom Garboard, of the Dolphin’s foretop; however, to make a long story short, the Captain and the Governor made a heavy bet—the time was appointed—Tom asked one week to get ready* The Carpenters were ordered to make what chests and conveniences Tom requir ed. The purser was instructed, at his re quest, to supply a fortnight’s provisions The day came, and Tom went on shore at the wharf appointed, when he began to stow his grub. The black fellow looked at him with, astonishment, “ what you do dere, massa ?” says he ;—“ what am I doing here,” says Tom, “ why I arn taking in my provisions, to be sure, and I advise you to do the same, for dam the bit of this do you get on the road.” “ Why, massa,” says the Negro, “ me no swim more nine ten miles.” “ Nine or ten miles,” says Tom, as if in a- mazement at the short distance, “Why, man, I’m going to Tobago, which I believe is over 200 miles and shan’t be back for a fortnight.” ... , The spectators were astounded. The the rim of it and down he throws it on the! black refused to swim. The Governor lost greerf turf. “ I should like any body to tcil his wager, and it was not until we were me now,” says he, “ that this isn’t silvur homeward bound, that Tom told the secret. laice.” So, then, away they go to it with Melancholy Case of Matrimony.—It is generally admitted that a man pays the full price of his follies.—Indeed it is an opinion among the prudent, that he pays something more than their real value. What is worst of all is, that l*e can never know the price ‘'beforehand, but, like a man who has worn out the coat got on credit, is forced .to pay whatever is asked, and that after the com modity is no longer worth any thing—We beg pardon for giving the moral before we have told the story.— \n unfortunate swain was brought before “ the justice” on Satur day, by his sweetheart, charged with the of fence of too much love. The lady held the proof, in her arms, which, as well as he ‘elf;cited loudly for justice. A bond, the j >! or marriage, were the aliernatives, ant! h ud ones ‘Hob seemed to think them^ Lon he pondered, and wistfully looked, and, like other rustic deep Thinkers, much he scratched his head. Better men would* have stuck fast on the horns of t o grave a dilemma. But it Was a pressi ' case, for the crowd thickerted, and Jenny’s ire was something less gentle than zephyr. At length he thought it better to marry than do wo^e, and the Justice, taking him at his word, sent for a parson, and had him wedded on the spot. The groom, we are informed, behaved well on the occasion, and departed with as reasonable prospects of happiness, a3 bachelors usually have who are married against their wills. Was ever lover in this humour woo\l? Was ev lov *r in his -tumour won ! We hope, when the marriage unannounced, that the usual order will be reversed, and that the bride’s name take the precedence which this vigorous measure entitles her to.—Bait. American. the shillelagh: you understand me, Sur, that is our way. An Irishman’s honour is de-r- er to him than his life ; and even when in A man who was accustomed to deal m the marvellous, told a country cousin of his that he had three great curiosities in his the wrong, he’d sooner die than have a lie j ] 10use; an ox that could go 300 miles a day, thrown in his teeth. So now, gentlemen, i a coc k that told the hour of the night, and a I’ll bid you all a good night; and as for you, Sur, there is my card, which I shall be hap py to exchange for yours.” ‘ The Englishman of course gave his ad dress, and the next day the parties met, at- dog that could read in a superior manner. Says the cousin * these are extraordinary things indeed! I must call upon you, and beg a sight of them.’ The liar returns home and tells his wife what had happened, say tended by their seconds. They fired, and j ing he had got into a scrape, and did not O’Flanagan’s shot took effect in the fleshy j know how to extricate himself. “ Oh, never part of his opponent’s thigh, which made j mind,” says she, “ I can manage it.” The the latter jump about a foot from the ground, i next day the countryman called, and in- abd fall flat upon his back, where he lay for i quiring after his cousin, is told that he was a few seconds in agony, kicking his heels.! that morning gone off to Pekin. * And This being observed by the Irishman’s se- what time is he expected back ?* ‘ In seven cond, he said, ‘ You have hit your man, O’Flanagan, that is certain: I think not dangerously, however: for see what capers he cuts.’ ‘ Capers! capers/* exclaimed the Irishman. ‘ Oh! theheavenly powers ! What have I done ? What a dreadful mistake !* And or eight days.’—‘ How can he return so quick ?’ * He’s gone off upon the ox.’ * Apro pos, of that,’ continues the guest, * I am told that you have a cock that marks the hour.’ A cock happened just then to crow * Yes, that’s he; he only tells the hour of the night, but reports when a stranger comes’ Another Abduction !—We learn from the Canandaigua Repository, that a poor blind pauper in the poor house of that county, has been stolen bodily out of a window, by a lady who had for some time been enanr red of him. We have heard of ladies leaping from windows in ? o the arms of impatient and adoring gentlemen, by the pale beams of the Queen of nights hut we never before knew an instance where a lady thus spread her arms for a blind Adonis of real flesh and blood. The “ happy pair ” were last seen at Lewiston, on their way to Canada. Recipe for making everlasting Shoes.—A nobleman of Gascony (for all Gascons are noblemen,) complaining that his pomps did not last long enough, the humble shoemaker' 1 asked him of what stuff his lordship should like to have them made—‘ Make the vamp,’ said he, * of the throat of a chorister—the quarter of a wolf’s neck, and the sole of a woman’s tongue.’ The astonished Crispin made bold with a second question in the shape of a timid and hesitating ‘ Pouc quoil’ * Why, you blockhead,’ replied the wag, be cause the first never admits water—the se cond hecause it never bends on either side, and the last, hecause though always in mo tion it never wears out.’ Manchester Law.—On Monday evening last, a person having the appearance of a gentleman, put his face under the bonnet of a respectable lady of this town, in the lower boxes of the Minor Theatre, and made use of some improper language, which was overhead by the brother of her husband, who happened to be near, and resented by him in very strong language. This so in censed the fellow that he pulled the gentle man who remonstrated with him by the nose. The latter endeavored to return the com pliment, but was prevented by a blow on the face given by his antagonist. A scuffle en sued, when a p- lice officer came up and took the aggressor into custody. On the road to the lockup, the gentleman protested strongly against going to prison, and pro posed to give the officer a guinea if he would procure a coach and take him before a magistrate immediately, which was ‘re fused. Finding entreaty of no avail, the spark, who said his name was Pope, began to bluster and swear a little. He said he had often heard of Manchester Law, but now he experienced something of it. The Man chester police thought they could rule the whole country, but he would teach them dif ferent: he was a member of parliament, and he would bring the case before the house, on his return to London. The officer, who unfortunately was not embrued with that due sense of the deference which was ex pected to be shown to a member of the Bri tish senate, persisted in performing his duty,/! and accommodated the honourable member with a night’s lodging in the Now Bailey, where he was left to cogitate upon the scrape he brought himself into. In the morning, it appeared that confine ment had produced some effect upon tho choler of the parliament man, who changed his menaces into entreaties, and earnestly requested that the case might be privately heard, as it would be derogatory to his dig nity to be exposed in a puhhc court to the gaze of the vulgar multitude. This request was made known to the complainant, who consented to the arrangement, and the mem- ber, who, amongst other changes, had thought proper to change his name to Guest, was taken before Mr. Norris, when the gen tleman who had been insulted agreed to ac commodate the matter, on the prisoner’s consenting to pay the sum of ten pounds to the trustees of the Manchester Infirmary, for the use of that charity. Mr. Guest was then liberated, and will doubtless, take espe- cial care how he again transgresses against Manchester Law.”