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P0ETE2T. is, however, I ily resol md to be a mat- thari nocom- m f rom tub Baltimore gazette. GREEK SONG. Movyii, Eoldier, mount, thy gallant steed— Seek, seek, the ranks of war •* ’Tis better there in death to bleed, Than drag a tyrant’s car. Strike! strike! nor think the blow unseen That frees the limbs where chains have been. Oh no! each dying shoot that peals . From continent or isle, Each smoke that, curling slow, reveals A city’s funeral pile,— Are heard and seen among the free, Whose hearts are struggling, Greece, with thee. '* On, on, for Karaiskaki’s hand! Look where the crescents wove; They clar.ce above a ruined land, Like death-liclKS o’er a crave; One prayer, one thoncht of Marathon, And they are quenched—on, soldier, on! But yet, if not the glorious past, *Nor hope of future fame, Nor chains of steel around thee cast, Urge thee to war with shame— Think that be3 T ond the parting sea The prayers of beauty rise for thee. Nay, cast not on thy infant child v That look of fond regret,— Mind not that shriek of sorrow wild,— Thy wife shall clasp thee yet. God and the fair across the wave Watch o’er the children of the brave. Then, soldier, mount thy gallant steed: Seek, seek, the ranks of war: ’Tis better there in death to bleed, Than drag a tyrant’s car; One clasp—one kiss,—then, soldier, on And win another Marathon. FROM THE BOSTON LYCEUM. TO A LADY. When memory fondly lingers near The silent grave where love reposes, Aud sheds, with burning eye, the tear On the pale wreath of withered roses;— Some serdph form in brightness clad, Comes «o dispel the gloom of sorrow, Bids the lone mourner’s heart be glad, And whjispers, ‘ she will wake to-morrow.* Thus when beside the cheerless grave, Of fond ftopes perish’d, crash’d, and blighted, The minstrel stood and madly gave His heait, where all his vows were plighted; Then, lad/, then thy seraph smile Bearn’m o’er the heart by sorrow riven, He bless’di thee—for he deem’d the while That foAra the harbinger of heaven! lie Mess’dj thee—for that angel voice, In accciKts soft as mercy’s pleading, < Bade sorrow’s mourning child rejoice, And heaffed the heart with anguish bleeding. Jfe lox?d tti{*e!—hut as pure ones love, e given: aven. ? hope is banish’d, ■are rnn, S .visvpas yinisued*— w — no tear or Sorrow » ie lustre of thine eyes— Bat efery.bmrr from love shall borrow New bliss to lend thee as it flies. KlT-K.iT SKETCHES. My Wife’s Mother, My uncle George was never easy till he got all the males of the family married. He has said to me, at least a hundred times, « John I’m surprised you don’t settle.’ I did not at first understand his meaning. I was walking with him in the Temple Gar dens, and while we were in the act of con templating the beauties of the majestic Thames—I allude to a man in a red night cap walking to and fro on a floating raft of tied timbers, and a coal-barge embedded in mud—he slopped short on the gra^l walk and said, ‘John, why don’t you set Concluding that he was tired, 1 answ^ * Oh, by all means ;* and sat down in green alcove at the eastern extremity of tjie footpath. ‘ Pho !* said my uncle, f ( d/oyt mean that. 1 mean why don’t you many ? There’s your brother Tom is settled, and ha3 had seven children, not reckoning two who have died of the measles : and Charles is settled, and has nine; his eldest boy Jack is tall enough to thump him ; and Edward is settled, at least he will be, as soon as Charlotte Payne has made up her mind to live in Lime-street. I wonder why you don’t settle.” * Pray uncle,' said I, «of what Buck's Lodge are you a noble brother?’ ‘Why do you ask?’ said he. « Because,’ replied I, ‘ you seem to think men are like masonry— never to be depended upon till they settle.’ As we walked homeward, we saw that ad- venturousVaeronaut Gamerin flying over our heads : and while we were wondering at his valour, he cut the rope that fastened his balloon to his parachute, and began to de scend in the latter towards the earth. My uncle George began to run as fast as his legs could carry him, looking all the while so intently upwards, that he did not advert to a house-maid and two children, whom he accordingly upset in his course, and nearly precipitated into the subjacent ooze. «What's the matter, uncle ?’ said 1. * Mat ter !' answered my outinian relative, ‘ why, I'm going to look after Garnerin. I shall never be easy till I see him settled.' In process of time my uncle began to be seriously displeased at my not settling. Po pulation, he seemed to opine, was on the wane: and if any thing should happen to brothers Tdm and Charles, and their re spective families, not omitting Edward and his issue, when his intended wifeshOuldhave conquered he repugnance to Lime-street, what would become of the House of Jack in? It might be dead, .defunct, extinct, The BataVian gov Lord Duncan’s naval victory* passed a se ries of resolutions, the first ofwhidh ran thus ‘ Resolved, that a new marine be built 1 ;’but I never heard of a single seventy four that ever after issued’ from Rotterdam docks: and certain disaffected Hibernians in Dub lin, in the year 17S8, by way of discouraging British trade, made a patriotic determination in the words and figures following, that is to say, * Resolved, that every thing coming from England be burned, except her coals, which we have occasion for.’ Paddy here put himself in a cleft stick, and so did I when I resolved to fall in love. A man may fail in a ditch whenever he pleases,—he must fall in love when and where he can. My mother recommended Susan Roper to me as^ [suitable match ; and so she was f^far q^peumstanoes extend. Her father a reputable coal merchant, living m C, ‘tham-place: I tried very much to be in love with be*!, and one warm evening when she sang ‘ Hush every breeze,’ in a boat un der the second arch of Blackfriar’s bridge, and accompanied herself upon the guitar, I thoughtl was in love—but it went off before morning. I was afterwards very glad it was so, for Susan Roper turned out very fat, and ate mustard with her roast beef. She mar ried Tom Holloway, the Policy broker, and I wished him jov. I wish it him still, hut 1 doubt the effic.acy of my prayers, inasmuch as his wife’s visage bears a strong resem blance to the illuminated dial-plate of St. Giles’s church clock. My next affair was more decisive in its results. Old Mrs Cumming, of St. Helen’s place, Bishopsgate-street, had a daughter named Jane, who taught me some duetts. We sang * When thy bosom heaves a sigh,’ —‘ Take hack the Virgin page,’ and * Fair Aurora,’ with impunity. But when it came to * Together let us range the fields,’ where the high contracting parties talk about ‘ tink ling rills, and ‘rosy beds,’ the old lady who had hitherto sat in seeming carelessness on the sofa, hemming dovleys, requested to speak with me in the hack drawing-room ; and after shutting the door, asked me my in tentions. M v heart was in my mouth, which plainly implied that it was still in my own keeping. Nevertheless, I had no answer ready; so Jane Cumming and I were mar ried on that day month. My Uncle George was so delighted at my being settled, that, after making us a present of a silver coffee pot, he exclaimed * I shall now die happy,’ an intention, however, which he has since show!) himself in no hurry to carry into ef fect Now came my wife’s mother into nlay. Sparrows leave their daughters to shift for themselves the moment they are a- ble to take the wing. (My uncle George calls this barbarous, and says, they should wait till they are settled.) Rut in Christian countries, like England, one’s wife’s moth er is not so unnatural. Mrs. Cumming lives, as I before mentioned, in St. Helen’s place; I reside in Finsbury-circus: so that the old lady has only to cross Bishopsgate-street, pass through the church-yard, and issue through the iron bars at the base of Broad- street buildings, and here she is. This makes it so very convenient* that she is nev er out of my house. Indeed, all the congra tulations of my wife’s friends, verbal and epistolary, ended with this apophthegm: £ Ulion if mnet Un cjft JftK/vVktr.il 4** .»_..Ia _ I eni,‘ after get the books we want, and when we want t0 th® c ]* ar 9^ 5 It appears to me that a book club ivoura be a good thing if we could but Then it must be so delightful to youtiohave your Mamma so near !’ It is, in fact; not only delightful, but quite providential. I do not know what my wife would do without my wife’s mother. She is the organ blower to the organ—the kitchen jack to the kitch en fire—the verb that governs the accusa tive case.- Mrs. Cumming' has acquired, from the pressure of time, rather a stoop in her gait ? but whenever my wife is in the family way, my wife’s mother is as tall and perpendicular as a Prussian life-guardsman. Such a bustling about the house, such a cry of‘hush’to the pre-existent children, anc! such a bevy of directions to Jane! The general order given to my wife is to lay flat upon her back, and look at nothing but the fly trap lhat hangs from the ceiling. For five months out of the twelve, my wife is parallel to the horizon, like a good quiet momimen- tal wife in Westminster Abbey,and my wife’s mother is sitting beside her with a bottle of Eau de Cologne in one hand, and one of my book-club books in the other. By the way, talking of book-clubs, it makes a great dif ference, as to the utility of those Institutions, whether the members of them are married or single. My wife’s mother is a woman of uncommon purity of mind, and so conse quently is my wife. We have accordingly discarded our Malone and Stephens to make way for Bowdler’s Family Shakespeare. My expensive quarto edition of Paradise Lost printed for J. &> J. Richer, Great New- port-street, in the year 1794, is dismissed to an empty garret, because it contains cuts of our first parents undecorated by the tailor and milliner. I sent up stairs yesterday for something to amuse me, hoping for De Vere, and down came little Billy with Baverstorkon brew ing, with a portrait of the author prefixed, myself drink nothing but water, but the secretary of the club brews his own beer, sent back Baverstock on brewing, with a re quest for something more funny; whereup on my wife’s mother sent me down Sermons by the Rev.Somelhing Andrews, Walworth, with a portrait of the author likewise prefix ed. Mr. Burridge, the indigo broker, hap pened to be with me when this latter publi cation arrived ; and when we happened also ne- iike the Plantagenets and *Montmorencies i to be discoursing about what trade mv ue- ©f other days, unless I, -gohn Jackson, ofi phew Osgood should be' brought up to, Mr. • F,n ?!f ry Circiis » UI )denvriter, became ac-lBurridge cast his eye upon the portrait, and ces*aij to its; constitution. The diletnmaTsaid, “ Has -your nephew got black whis- ' vas aw * u ’ and mv uncle George had money kers V 1 Yes’ I answered. ‘ And a- white 40lcavc * 1 accordingly resolved to fal|ih | shirt collar?’ ‘ Yes.’ ‘ Then, bring him. up them. But perhaps I am too particular. Vjf e never have a dinner,without of course, inviting my wife’s mother. Indeed she al ways settles the day, the dishes, and Ihe party.—Last Wednesday I begged hard to have Jack Smith invited ; but no—my wife’s mother was inexorable. The last time he dined with us, he was asked for a song. Mrs. Cumming wanted him to sing * My Mother had maid called Barbara ;’ thinking that daughters should bear in mind not only their mothers, but their mothers’ maids ; whereupon what does Jack do, but break cover as follows :— “ The Greeks they went fighting to Troy ; The Trojans, they came out to meet ’em : ’ Tis knotvn to each little school-hoy, How the Creeks they horse-jockey’d and beat ’em. “ No house in that day was secured ; They made them too hot for their holders; And Aeneas, not being insured; Packed otf with his dad on his shoulders, kinging Rumpti, &cl” This was intolerable. A man who would mention a husband’s father thus irreverently, could only wait for an Opportunity in order to lampoon it wife’s mother. Jack is conse quently suffering under the bann of the Fins bury empire. This reminds me of an odd focident that happened under my cogni zance before I had a wife’s mother.—I went one night into the Green-room of Dru- ry-lane theatre. When young girls are cal led upon to perform in London play houses, it is customary for their mothers to come to look after them, to adjust their dress, rub their cheeks with a rouged hare’s foot, and prevent viscounts from falling in love with them. It so happened that five young girls were wanted in the drama; the consequence was that five fat black-bonneted mothers blockaded the Green-room. * Did you ever see any thing like it ?’ ejaculated Munden, in an under tone ; * I’ll bring ray own mother to-morrow night: I’ve as much right as they have !’—Munden’s mother \ My uncle George dined with us yester day se’nnight, and before dinner asked my wife what she thought of the weather. ‘ Mamma thinks it cold for the time of year,’ was the answer. .At dinner she was asked bySir Anthony Andrews, whether she would take red or white wine ; Mrs. Cum- ming happened at the moment to be deep in conversation with the clergyman of our parish, who sat next to her, about the opera of Proserpina, which the clerical gentleman wished to see revived, adding * you remem ber, madam, what a fine situation occurs in the story when Proserpine invokes the aid of Jove to punish her gloomy abducer.’ Mv wife’s mother could not accuse herself of re membering any thing about it. When Doc tor Stubble had explained the story the old lady shook her head, and wondered that a deitv, who behaved in that way to his wife’s mother, could be allowed to continue on his throne. ‘It was in the infernal regions said the doctor. ’ Pm glad of it, a brute !’ ejaculated Mrs. Cumming. During the whole of this colloquy, Sir Anthony An drews sat with his wine-glass in hi3 right hand, waiting for my wife’s decision. The poor girl—(sheis only thirty-four)—waited for her mother’s fiat. White, my dear,’ said the old lady,—and white it was. I own I am puzzled to know what my wife will do when my wife’s mother dies,which in the course of nature she must do first. The laws of this country prevent her from moun ting the pile,like a Hindoo widow, ordescend- ing into the grave, like Sinbad, the sailor. But l will not anticipate so lamentable an epoch. Two incidents more, and 1 have done. We went last Wednesday, with my uncle George and my wife’s mother, to Con vent Garden theatre to see * Peter Wilkins, or the Flying Indians,’ whom, by the way, my wife’s mother mistook for defeated Bur mese. Miss M* Glover and Miss J. Scott, acted two flying Gowries, and were swinging across the stage, when Mrs. Cumming expressed a wish to go home. * No, no, wait a little,* said my uncle, looking upward •to the theatrical firmament. ‘ I’m quite un easy about those two girls ; I hope they’ll soon settle.’ Xast Sunday, Doctor Stubble gave us an excellent sermon : the subject was the fall of man; in which he descanted eloquently upon the happiness of Adam in Paradise. ‘ Alas!’ ejaculated I to myself, as we walked homeward, * his happiness, even there, must have been incomplete! His wife had no mother.’ The difference between the Sexes.—Mr. Dugald Stewart, in the third volume of his Philosophy of the Human Mind, recently published, discusses the difference between the sexes; and he takes occasion to ex press his adoption of 'the opinion long since adopted by Plato, and maintained by the most enfigh teued and judicious philosophers, that there is no natural difference between thesexesj, but in point of Strength When the entire sexes are compared together, the female is, doubtless, the inferior; but in in dividuals, the woman has often tile advan tage of the man.” “ In this opinion I have no doubt that Plato is in the right. The intellectual and moral diftbrences between the sexes seem to me to be entirely the result of education ; using that word in its most extensive sense, to comprehend not merely the instruction re ceived from teachers, but the habits of mind imposed by situation, or the physical organi zation of the animal frame. “ It must be remembered, too, that cer tain intellectual and moral habits are the na^ tural and necessary consequences cf that . difference in point of strength, which Plato of (h allows tb distinguish the sexes. The form the of the male is evidently much the better fit- of exercise seems to be sufficient to preserve the female in health. Hence the sedentary habits early acquired by the other sex, and that comparative timidity which results from a want of famil iarity with those external in juries to which the stronger sex is daily ex posed. This timidity, it is to be observed, by no means implies an impatience under present suffering ; for the female, though less couragous than the male, is commonly more resigned and patient under severe af fliction. The mental constitutions, in this respect, of the sexes, are happily adapted to the different provinces allotted to them in life; the male being the natural protector of the female in moments of danger and sudden alarm ; the female destined to be his comfort and support in seasons of sor row and protracted suffering. “ From the greater delicacy of theirframe, and from the numerous ailments connected with their sexual temoerament, combined with their constant familiarity with distres ses which are not their own, the sympathy of women with the sufferings of others is much more lively, and their promptitude to administer relief, wherever it is possible, is much more eager than in the generality of men. To the truth of this remark every day’s experience bears witness; and from the testimony of travellers, it appears that the observation extends to women in all the different stages of society. “ In consequence of the greater nervous irritability of women, their muscular sys tem seems to possess a greater degree of that mobility by which the principle of svm pathetic imitation operates. Hence their proneness to hysteric affections, and to that species of religious enthusiasm which propagated by contagion. Hence also iheir tendency to misery, and the niceness of their tact with respect to the more delicate features of character.” To the different process of their educa tion, and of their early habits, Mr. Stewart imputes the inferiority ofithe fair sex to the stronger, in a capacity for patient thought ancEfor all those pursuits which require sy-> tematic mental attention. From their in fancy, the minds of females are peculiarly alive to sensible objects ; they are. there fore, easily influenced by casual associa tions, and hence their acknowledged supe riority in their powers of conversation, and in epistolary writing. Eccentric Gander.—The following storv. the truth of which we can vouch for, is not only curious in itself, but evinces pretty for cibly, that whimsicality and eccentricity are not confined to the human species. Mr. Whigham of Allanton, has a very large gan der, which was hatched five or s»x years ago, and which had scarcely attained the months of majority, when he contracted a dislike for his own species. Whether this arose from disappointed love, or a disposition na turally goose anthropical, might puzzle the deepest naturalist to determine : but cer tain it is that he feels so little pleasure in the society of the fair, who have feathers on their backs, that the race jvould speedily become extinct, were all ganders as ungal- lant as himself. , In 1823, there were two pretty bay colts grazing in a field adioining to Allanton, and to these he in time attach ed himself so cordially, that he became their companion night) and day. From this or some other circuiipstauce, he retains, a strong partiality to bay tjr browns, and will not as sociate with a blgek horse. The colts al luded to, were succeeded by others ; and the gander, though he seemed sensible of, and sorry for, the change, speedily ingr&ti ated himself with his new friends. These he attends in the paddock during the day, follows them home at night, when the wea ther is cold, and iif accidentally ^shut out of the stable, patiently bivouacks/behind the door, and is always ready to clan his wings and go a-field early in the morning. When in the park, his sole occupation seems to be, to stand near the head of one of the colts, carefully watching all its motions,and accom modating his position to that of his friends, by waddling when he walk‘d and flying when herons. Young horses, when disturbed, very easily break into a gallop, and as the gander manages to keep so near the colt, that he may be seen flying vigorously along side of him, it is certainly strange that it never occurred to him to take a ride. If the mouth of the other, while collecting proven der,should come too near his feet, he stretch es forth his neck, elevates his wings, hisses gently, and by other motions admonishes him to keep at a proper distance. Though geese graze as well askine, the bird in ques tion is rarely seen nibbling a pile of grass, and his chief dependence, we believe, is placed on the stray pickles of corn he caters in the stable. On one occasion, the young horses at Allanton were removed to a field at*some distance, and then the poor gander had to dree a very dfeary period of widow hood. If he could have spoken or sung, his ditty would have been, “ I wander dowie a’ ray lane.” But When the colts returned— that is, the bay oftes—he was seen hurrying to meet them, half running, half filing, and cackling forth his congratulations, to the very topmost note of the gamut of joy. In April last, we happened to be at Allanton, and, as a matter of course, visited the biped of whoso eccentric habits we heard so much. A new scene then presented itself! In the course of the day, a score or t wo of ca pital highland bullocks had been let into the field, and these the gander seemed to look on with a jaundiced eye. By mere acci dent one aoproached too near the favourite ijlcoltj 4 P e ted for bodily exertion, and a less measure quk fn which was resented by a laughable onset. The bill le paironf horns, started back as ■pdd&fead stung him. Again, however, he advanced to the charge, trasf again assaulted and again retreated ; until his brethren, perceiving what was going for ward, joined in the melee, and very nearly hemmed the gander in. Our* first impres sion was thattho'biped would be tossed and gored till not a pinion stuck together; but in this we were mistaken. Each of the bullocks was assailed m turn, to its no small amazement, if noj dismay; but the assai lant, maugre his great' courage, appeared to be placed in a sad quandary, and did all he could to rescue the colt from such unsuita ble company, by biting his heels and nib bling at his head. The docile animal at length good naturedly yielded fa his wishes, and the horned billigerents, on their part, ratified the armistice by offering no further molestation.—Dumfries Courier. Courtship.—The most sentimental court ship which we have ever hedrd or read of, took place not long since within the circle of our acquaintance. Louisa was the only child of a geutleman, who, blessed with af fluence had spared no pains to improve by a liberal education, the graces which nature had lavished upon his daughter. In short, Louisa was an heiress; and, like all other heiresses, had a numerous train of sui tors. “ Am on 2 the rest younj; William bowed, But never talk’d of love.—” He was a young man of inestimable worth and talents, which Louisa was not the last to discover, hut he possessed no small share of that diffidence usually attendant on true merit. Their eyes had long professed a mutual flame before he could muster the courage to declare his passion. Chance threw in his way a golden opportunity. They were left alone. After an awkward silence of some minutes lie advanced, took her hand :—‘ Louisa'—’ his voice faltered—he could not utter another word : but his elo quent countenance spoke the rest. Louisa understood him, and, overwhelmed with confusion, stammered out, “ Go ask my fa- th er.’—Rural Repository. We have received, (says the Democratic Press,) what we regard as authentic ac counts of the sudden deaths of five men yes terday. by drinking cold water. ~ If such fa tal consequences will not induce men to forbear, we are quite sure no remarks of ours would have any effect. f [Well! another pajier has an account of the sudden deaths of half a dozen men by drinking rum, gin, and brandy. Now, what is a poor fellow to quench his thirst with ? Death is both in the hogshead and in the well. Water kills us—brandy kills us also. Each is a poison. However, as some poi sons neutralize each other, the only way of ffetting over the difficulty is by mixing bran dy and water together. There never yet was a Coroner’s verdict—“ Died of brandy and water.] —JV*. Y. Enq. “ They Say.”—“ They say” tells that which is not true at least three quarters of the time.—He is about the worst authority you can produce to support the credibility pT your statement.—Scarcely was there ever a suspicious report in circulation, but this Mr. They Say was the Author of it; and he al ways escapes responsibility detection because just living no where, he7*i$n never he fouhd. Who said that Mr. E. the mer chant was supposed to be in a fiiiling condi tion? Why “ They say” so. On what au thority do you affirm that neighbor F. has been seen in bad company ? Why “ They say” so. Is it a fact, that Miss G. is not so circumspect and chaste as she should be ? Why “ They say” so—Plague on this Mr. They say: He is half brother to that Mr. Nobody who always does all the mischief, and lives no where, but in the inventive brain of those who, undeserving respect them selves, are desirous to put down others to their own level. We always suspect the truth of a report which comes from the au thority of “ They Say.” Anecdote. —Where several were in com pany in this city the other day, one of the company said that “ Jackson was a horse thief.” By J- s ! (said a warm hearted son of Erin, who was standing by) then we’II put him in the Penitentiary at Washington, for four years, and let Adams out.”—BalL Republican. ' Military Anecdote.—Disobedience to or ders often happens in military matters. Even Biucher did that unmilitary thing. At the bloody battle of Leipsic, Schwartzenburg, the Command ar in Chief of the Allied for ces, sent an order to old Biucher to cannon ade Leipsic. When the order was commu nicated, the veteran took a tremendo is pinch of snuff, muttered a German oath, and ex claimed.—“ What l throw hot shot in a city where my best friends live, and where I have spent so many happy hours—no—no— “ Soldiers—forward—follow your general.” He instantly resolved to storm, not burn, down the «ity. In ten minutes the city was carried by the impetuosity of the attack and the magnificent buildings and inhabitants were preserved. The nickname ojf the Mar shall was General Forward, all over Eu rope.. »qL: s That fine sensibility on and social virtues are foun sand avenues to pain. We ery day. Human lifb is soft ble events, that either for <3 fellow-creatures we find con for mourning; and thus that which is the very essence of virtu ed at the hard head of butes to make us wretched. ic latter, though '.furnished Friendship may have its but sensibility must support i Hr