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EOETP.Y.
FROM AN EVr.LIIH JOURNAL.
O'f, nrr-. from tfic pf*fi of Miss Browne* a young lady
15 years of ago. Her compositions give promise of i
unfolding of a genius nq^ inferior to any poetess of the
pr-T-at day. A volume of lieKprnriiicfioitif is already
or foie the puMic, under the talc of “ M6nt Blanc, and
other poems." ♦
MUSIC.
’Tis not in the harp’s soft melting tone,
•That music and harmony dwell alone ;
•Tis not in the voire, so tender and clear,’
That cornea like an angel’s strain o'er the ear;
They both are sweet, hut o’er dale and hill,
For me thero’s as beautiful music still.
I hear it iA every murmuring hrratli,
That moves the beNsof the purple heath:
In the watch th^’s hark, in the shcphdfciV; song,
In the rustic’s laugh, as it echoes along ,
In the whizzing sound of flic wild bird's wing,
There’s music, there’s music in every thing.
There's music in the first love «igh,
That answers the glance of the melting eye,
\nd waft it !ioin? to the lover’s heart,
And bids Ina idle fears depart;
And rair’cH the trembling blush in the check,
And says far more than words ca i speak.«
There's rcusic, too, in the evening breeze,
AVhen it shakes the blossoms from the trees,
And wafts them into the moon-lit heaven,
Like faijv harks from their anchors driven ;
And they, through the clear and cloudless night,
Float in a wavelets sea of light.
There's a music, too, when the winds arc high,
And the c louds are sailing through the skv ;
Wliifn ocean foams and lashes the shore,
When the lightnings flash and the thunders roar ;
Vc«, e’en i i the tempest’s jubilee,
There’s music, and grandeur, and beauty for me.
There's music, sweet inusie, where in.sitts play,
When they burst into life and the light of day,
And aha tie such sounds fiom their shining wings,
As the wind makes in imu muring o’er harp strings ;
In the song of the birds, in the rippling stri aids;
Oil * these ore such sounds as we hear in our dreams.
There's n music unheard, that is only felt,
In that bosom where imssionnfe feelings have dwelt;
Where the purest and warmest of thoughts have blent
To tune the harp like n;i instrument;
From’whose chords, us lime hath o'er them flown.
His wing hath biit wakened a tender tone !
There’s music fhost Moss'd in the house of prayer,
\ye, the sweetest and loveliest of music is there ;
When innocent voices together blend,
And their mingled tones above ascend .
There is the holiest music given,
I'rom the heart's warm altar up to heaven.
TROM NEALk’s ROMANCE OF HISTORY.
serknaim:. '
Wake, lady, wake,— llm midnight moon
Sails through the cloinlltfss skies of dune ;
The stars gaze sweetly on the stream,
Which, i » the brightness of their beam,
One sheet of glory lies.
The glow-worm lends it little light,
And all that’s beautiful and bright .
Is whinging on our world to-night,
Save thy bright eyes!
Wako, lady, wake,—the nightingale
Tolls to the inoon her love-lorn tale!
Now' doth the brook thal’s hush’d by day,
Aa through the vale she winds her way,
In murmurs sweet rejoice ;
The leaves, bv the soft night wind stirr’d,
Arc whispering many a gentle word,
And all earth's swcotest sounds are heard,
. s Savo.thy sweet voice !
Wake, lady, wake,—thv lover waits !—
Thy steed stands saddled at the gates’
Here is a garment rich an 1 rare,
To wap tnee from the cold night air;
Th*f appointed hour is flown,—
Dan nor anil ilnuhl havn vnni-h’tl quite,—
Our wnv hofore in clear unit rich*,—
And all ia ready for the llijfiit,—
Save lliur alono !
Wake, lailv, wako,—1 have a wreath,
Thv broad fair brow alia'I iw* beneath ;
I have a ring that inurt not aliino
On any finger, love, but tliinr I
I’ve kept my plighted vow.
Beneath thy enaeinnnt here I .land,
To b ail tlnie by thv own white bund.
Far from this dull anil captive strand,—
But vvlii-r. art thou ?
* 1 COM THK LONPON NF.M MOKTULT MAX AZIN I.
the narrative of a student at law.
[Conrhuleil.]
I'e; peroral days I immured myself wholly in
mv chnmhor, afraid to stir out, lest I should ho
involved in now dillieultics. At length I ven
tured abroad, but observed, with the utmost
distress and consternation, a visible alteration
in tho manner of many of my friends. I has
tened to Squnro, secure, at ull events,
qf there finding sympathy and tenderness. As
I approached the house I saw at the windows
of tho drawing-room the figure of l.otiisu, up-
narontly absorbed in thought: 1 knocked al
tho door—‘Is Miss nt hornet’ “No,
Sir!” said the servunt. I did not wait to put
another question ; my spirits wero in a stnte of
thohighest excitement,and rudely pusliingopen
the door, 1 ran up stairs. I stayed to make no
preface—“ Did you order me to ho denied,
Louisa 1” “ 1 did, Mr. “Mr.
good God 1 and are yon too leagued against
• me 1” “ You have already insulted me once I"
ahe exclaimed, rising und trembling so violent
ly, that l expected to see her every moment
oink to the ground. “You liavo already in
sulted me once, and the insult shall not be re
pented.” “ For the love of jnstico and mer
cy,” I cried, “if your love forme be dead, ex
plain this dreadful mystery.—What have 1
done—what insult has been offered to you—
of whom do you speuk? There is, believe
me, some horrible nnd fatal mistake.” “ It
was, indeed,” she replied. “ a fatal mistake; I
took you for a man of virtuous and honorable
feelings—Great Heaven I how hnve I been de
ceived. Nothing but my own senses should
havo convinced. me, and I can yet scarcely
credit them. Wo now part fbr ever”—hero
she softened into tears—“ and I now give you
back the pledge which I had promised myself
should lie with'me in Ore grave.” She slowly
drew from her bosom a plain gold ring, which
I had lmnj» round her meek on that remember,
ed evening when, in the twilight of her father’s
woods, l first told her 1 loved her. “ Take it
V •
—God bless you stillIt was the last time
I ever saw her.
In vitin, by message and by letter, did I en
treat to he' allowed an interview, that I might,
at least know (he crime of which I hnd been
guilty. Louisa maintained the most impene
trable silence. My desire to fathom tjie dark
mystery which hung over ine, now become al
most ungovernable; and my whole time was
passed in the wildest and most vague conjec
tures, as to the origin of the strange events
which Imd disturbed my happiness. With the
view of diverting my melancholy, I had gone
one evening to the pit oft the Opera, where I
had scarcely seated myself, when I saw Louisa
in l.adv II ’» box. She was very pale, and
appeared to have suffered from illness. All
my previous feelings were light, compared
with the agony of this moment, when I beheld
her the victim, as it seemed, of that inexpl'ca-
|,|r destiny by which-I was myself pursued.
This sentiment, however, acute as it was, va
nished instantly, on mv happening to turn my
ever, to the opposite side of the house. I thore
saw—I could not he mistaken—I there saw,
plain as the sun in the mid heavens, n figure
which bore evVjry resemblance to my own. It
was standing unaccompanied, in one of the
boxes, intently gazing upon that in which
Louisa sat. I took hut one glance :—a thou
sand emotions were swi lling in my bosom—
mysterious awe, intense curiosity, fiery hatred,
seemed all contending for superiority, a (ihn
came over my eyes—a sickness, like that of
death, overspread in"—and yet the sentiment
that this was the crisis of my fate, rose superi
or to every other : I hastened to the box—the
door was open—tho-imn’tc had escaped. I
hurried into the topon %ir ; I examined every
figure and every then 1 met—I returned into
the house, and renewed my search and tny in
quiries—(lie strange and mysterious object of
them had disappeared.
From this period my persecutions wero mul
tiplied : I cannot recount the various ways in
which I was annoyed and distressed. Some
of the incidents were of such a nature, that
could any thing hut anxiety and horror have
been excited by them, they would have appear
ed ludicrous. In particular, 1 remember ,hat
a tuilor in Clifford-strcct, Bond-street, with
whose very name I was unacquainted, sent to
my ehatnhers a suit of clothes, made .in a style
of fashion absolutely preposterous. Imagin
ing that my own tailor might have sent them, I
tried them on, nnd found that they fitted me
with the most exact precision ! 'J'he man of
Chfford-street insisted that l had called upon him
a few days before, and giving my address had
directed the clothes to be sent to my chamber.
I found a more serious annoyance in a number
of hills spent to me by various tradesmen, for
articles which I hail never ordered ; and on mv
refusal to pav, I was threatened with legal pro
cess. One night, after a violent dispute with n
jeweller, who insisted that I had purchased n
number of valuable trinkets at his shop, Ire-
tired to lied, and whether it was owing to the
sccqu which had taken place in the course of
the day, or to some strong green tea whi^ I
hml drunk shortly before 1 went to rest, 1 know
not, hut I w as terrified with a dronm, (for dream
it seemed to be,) which ever nfterwnrds added
strength to the same impression which these
wonderful circumstances had made upon my
mind. I dreamed that ns I lay in mv own bed,
n figure approached me, which, upon mv at
tentively regarding it, seemed to hear my own
features ; that it advanced close to mv pillow,
ami bending down towards my face, breathed
upon me. The icy coldness of the breath
awakened me, and I started tqi with horror.
All was silent ns the grave ; hut in a few mi-
fltltcs nfterwnrds I heard steps descending the
Stairs j a sound which restored mv confidence,
as I imagined it might bo one of the persons
who occupied the chambers above me.
Soon after this vision, an event occurred
which may he said lo have formed the last link
in the mysterious chain which hound me. In
returning one morning from Westminster, ns l
wns passing through one of those small courts
between Essox-strnel and Norfolk street, (for
of late I had sought the most retired wnvs,) I
observed that two persons, of rather mean ap
pearance, seemed to ho dogging mv footsteps.
Uneasy nt this circumstance, l hastened direct
ly on to my chatfiber. I had however, scarce
ly seated myself, when my scrvnnt informed
me that two men wished to speak to me. On
being admitted, they told me that they were
officers of the police, cud that they had n war
rant to arrest mo on n charge of felony- Sur
prise at the moment prevented rr.y spenking ;
but as soon as 1 recovered myself, I oflered to
accompany them to tho magistrate. He was
sitting, and the witnesses being in attendance,
my examination took place immediately,
young man, of gentlemnn-likc address swore
that on the’preceding evening he hud been in
duccd by one of his friends to visit ono of the
gnmhling houses in the Hnymnrkct—that he
thero saw me both plnying und betting very
rashly—that I appeared to bo losing, that nt
length I quitted the room, and that soon af
terwards his friend and himself followed. Now
came the accusation. Ho swore that just ns
he was leaving the door he felt some person
drawing his purse from his pocket—that he im
mediately pursued tho man, and at the corner
of Jermyn-street seizod me. That at first I
submitted, and he dragged me to ono of the
lamps, and there most distinctly saw my conn
tennneo, when nt that moment by some piece
of adroitness, which he could not explain, I
slipped from his grasp, and instantly disappear
ed.—His friend corroborated the story. The
magistrate, after cautioning me, and express
ing his regret at seeing a person of my appear
ance beforo him, asked me whether! wished
to say any thing in my defence. I answered
that I was the victim of some secret and de
vilish conspiracy, nnd that 1 could prove that
was at my chamber on the night in question.—
“ I hope you may bo able to do so,” said the
Magistrate,. 11 but in thq mean time it is my du
ty to commit you and I was conducted to
jail in a hackney coach. I immediately sum
moned one or two of my friends, and after
laying open to them the circumstances in
which I had been placed, we concerted the
best means of defence. My laundress could
swear that Iwasin my chambers the whole of the
evening when the robbery was.committed ; and
though this was the only direct evidence in my
lavour.vct I assembled at least adozen persons,
men of repute and -tation, as witnesses to my
character. The trial excited prodigious inte
rest, hut what was that interest to the agony
with which I regarded the issue! Should 1 be
convicted, my mysterious enemies would en
joy, in triumph, my disgrace and degradation,
and might probably proceed by the same dia
bolical contrivances to attempt my life.
The day came, and I was arraigned,among a
herd of common felons; hut the conscious
ness of # my innocence, and the hope of estab
lisliing it, supported my heart. No sooner had
card the witnesses far the prosecution, than
I
that hope died within me. A number of per
sons deposed that on the night in question
they had seen me in the gambling-house ; but
they were men of indifferent character, and
not personally acquainted with me. Al last,
with astonishment and horror Isawmy veltera-
hle friend, Mr. B , put into the box, and
heard him swear in positive terms, that he
was present in the room, and saw me al play.
M y defence availed nothing. The wretched
olil woman, which I produced, as the Court
and Jury believed, to establish my defence by
petit jury, was immediately discredited, and
the jury returned a verdict of guilty. I was
sentenced to six month's imprisonment. My
feelings I will not attempt to describe.
During my confinement \ made the most
energetic attempts to reconcile myself to mv
fatal destiny, I formed a plan for my future life,
cornpleto in every particular. My character
being destroyed, anil most of my friends aliena
ted. I determined to convert my property into
money, nnd to seek a refugo in the United
States. At length the term of my imprison
nient approached its close, and on the 30th of
September, 1791,1 wns liberated; my flesh
creeps as I name the day
1 waited in the prison till it was dusk. Find
ing that I Imd the key of my chambers upon
my person, I resolved, in the first instance, to
isit once again the scene of my former tranquil
studies. Before T reached the Temple, the
gates had been closed, and the gate keeper, as
I entered, eyed me with an unpleasant curiosi
ty. I reached tny chambers. There was still
light sufficient to enable me to select some pa
pers which I particularly wished to secure. 1
entered the chambers nnd walked into the sit
ting room, but suddenly stopped on seeing a
figure reclined on n sofa. My library tabic
was before him, covered with law books. At
first I imagined that my laundress had per
mitted some stranger to occupy my rooms du
ring my incarceration. As I enterodthe cliam-
rr the figure rose, and with feelings of jndis-
crihnhle horror I perceived the resemblance of
myself
“ sail my flesh's hair upstood,
'Twin mine own similitude.”
—1 cannot relate wl at followed, for my sen
ses deserted me. f.n recovering, my myste
rious visiter Imd departed without leaving the
slightest clue by which 1 might fathom tho im
penetrable secrets of iny persecution. I have
sometimes imagined that they nrose from one
of those wonderful natural resemblances which
in some instances appear to bo well authenti
cated ; hut,, nnturnl, or supernatural, they
hanged tho current of my life. Unable to
endure the disgrace of being pointed at as a
convicted felon, I converted tny property into
money, and, under another name I now live
respected in a foreign land. *
FROM WASHINGTON IRVING’S LIFE OF COLUMBUS.
The Prefact.—Being nt Bordeaux, in the
winter of 1825—6, I received a letter from Mr.
Alexander Everett, Minister Plenipotentiary
of the United States at Madrid, informing me
of a work then in the Press, edited bv Marlin
Fernandez de Nnmrctta, Secretary of the Roy
al Academy of History, &c. &c. containing a
collection of documents, relntivo to the voya
ges of Columbus, among which wero tnnny of
n highly important nature, recently discovered.
Mr, Everett, nt the same time, expressed an
opinion that a version of the work into Fnglish
by one of our own countrymen, would ho pe
culiarly desirable. I concurred with him in
opinion : nnd, having for some time intended
a visit to Madrid, I shortly afterwards set off
for that capital, with an idea of undertaking,
while there, the translation of the work.
Soon after my arrival, the publication of M.
Nuvaretta made its nppenranec. I found it to
contain many documents, hitherto unknown,
which throw additional lights on the discovery
of the New World ; nnd which reflected the
greatest credit on’the industry and activity of
tho learned editor. Still the whole presented
rather a mass of rich materials for history, than
n history itself; and invaluable as such stories
may be t<5 tho laborious inquirer, the sight of
disconnected papers ard official documents, is
apt to be repulsive to the general reader, who
seeks for clear aud continued nnrativc. These
circumstances made me hesitate ia my propos
ed undertaking ; yet the subject was of so in'
tercsting nnd national a kind, that I could not
willingly abandon it.
On considering the matter more maturely,
I perceived that, although there were many
books, in various languages, relative to Colum
bus, they nil contained limited and incomplete
accounts of his life and- voyages ; while nu
merous valuable tracts on the subject existed
only in manuscript, or in the form of letters,
journals, and public documents, it appeared
to me, that a history, faithfully digested from
these various materials, was a desideratum in
literaturei and would bo a more satisfactory oc
cupation to myself, and a more acceptable work
to my country, than the translation I had con
templated.
I was encouraged to undertake such a work,
by the great facilities which I found within my
reach at Madrid. I wax resident tinder Che
roof of the American Consul,, 0. Rich, Esq.
oqe of the most indefatigable biographers in Eu
rope, who for several years, had made parti
cular researches after every document relative
to the early history of America. In his exten
sive and curious library, I found one of the
best collections extantof Spanish colonial his
tory, containing many documents for which I
might search elsewhere in void. This he put
at my absolute command, with a frankness and
unreserve seldom to he inct with among the
possessors of such rare aud valuable works ;
nnd his library has been my main resource
throughout the whole of my labours.
“ 1 found also the Royal Library of Madrid,
and tho Library of the Jesuits’ College of San
Isidro, two noble and extensive collections,
open to access, and conducted with great or
der and liberality. From Don Martin Fer
nandez de Navaretta, who communicated va
rious vnluahle and curious pieces of informa
tion. discovered in the course of his research
es, I received the most ohliging assistance ;
nor can I refrain from testifying my admiration
of the self-sj«tained zeal of that estimable man,
one of the last veterans of Spanish literature,
who is almost alone, yet indefatigable in his
labours, in a country, where, at present, lite
rary exertions meet with but little excitement
or reward.
“ I must ncknowledgc, also, the liberality of
the Duke ofVerngues, the present descendant
and representative of Columbus, who submit
ted the archives of his family to my inspection,
and took a personal interest in exhibiting the
treasures they contained. Nor, lastly, must I
omit my deep obligations to my excellent friend
Don Antonio de Ugina, treasurer of the Prince
of Francisco, a gentleman of talents and eru
dition, and particularly versed in the history of
his country and its dependencies. To his un
wearied investigations, and silent and unavow-
ed contributions, the world is indebted for
much of the accurate information recently im
parted, on points of early colonial history
In the possession of this gentleman are most
of tho papers of his deceased friend, tho late
historian Munos, who was cut off in the midst
of his valuable labours. These, and various
other documents, have been imparted to me by
Don Antonio, with n kindness and urbanity
which greatly increased, yet lightened the ob
ligation.
With these, and other aids incidently afford
ed me by my local situation, I have endeavour
ed, to the best of my abilities, and making the
most of the time which I could allow myself
during a sojourn in a foreign'eountry, to con
struct n history. I hnve diligently collected all
tho works that I could find relative to my sub
ject, in print and manuscript: comparing them,
as far as in my power, with Original documents,
those sure lights of historical research , en
deavouring to asccrtnin the truth nmid those
contradictions which will inevitably occur,
where several persons have recorded the same
facts, viewing them from different points, and
under tho influence of different interests and
feelings.
In the execution of this work, I have avoid
ed indulging in mere speculations and general
reflections, excepting such as rose naturally
out of the subject, preferring to give a minute
and cjrcumstantial narrative; omitting no parti
cular that appeared charactaristic of persons,
the events, or tho times ; and endeavouring to
place every fact in such a point of view, that
tho reader might preserve its merits, und draw
his own maxims and conclusions.
As many points of the history required ex
planations, drawn from the contemporary
events and the literature of the times, I have
preferred, instead of incumbering the narrative
to give detached illustrations at the end of the
work,
This also enables me to indulga in greater
latitude of detail, whero the subject was of a
curious or interesting nature, and the sources
of information such as not to be met with in
the common course of rending.
After nil. the work is presented to the pub
lic with extreme diffidonce. All that I cun
safely claim is, an earnest desire to state th
truth, an absence from prejudices respecting
the nations mentioned in my history, a strong
interest in my subject, nnd a zeal to make up
bid waters on every side, and putting hot!
“ journals” nnd “ Telegraphs, - ” “’Coalitions'
and “ Combinations’’" to a nonplus”—Light
ning in different parts of the heavens, wifi
frequent thunders of calling to order; mori
showers of personal abuse; prospects of |fi s
tols about these days.”—Berkphire American
Directions formal-fas' lore; or the JYcw Tv
am conscious.
WASHINGTON IRVING.”
Mdrt&ted to Men of llrfinement
1. In commencing Courtship, be good enotigl
to attend to the following directions, drawn, I
can assure you from the experience of a long
and not inobservant life ; If vour mistress he
an antique, praise all that is rfio 'ern ; if ugly,
extol some handsome female friend ; if parse
moniotis, put four lumps ofsugar in your tea.
2. Smiles, you may remember, are number
ed among the“ undoubted proofs of good breed
ing,” of course then,you will grin at every op,
portunity, more especially when your mistress
is discussing sentiment. N. B. Do notwait for
your own jokes, or you may he placed in ar.
awkward predicament, like a friend of mine,
who having mndo a rush vow .never to laugh
hut when he said a good thing was apprenticed
to gravity for life.
3. Should your mistress be insulted in your
presence, hehavelike. Congreve’s Captain Bluff
with true Christian indifference, or ii mny so
happen that hostilities may he commenced
againstvotirnose. Thisyou’llallowisnwftward.
4. Guess your mistress, when she playfully
proposes the question, to be about ten years
older than she chooses lo acknowledge. You
may add that she hears an extraordinary like
ness to your great aunt by the father's side
Should she ask vou’for some sentimental book.,
lend hei Colman’s “ Broad Grins.” *
5. \lways call in when it is likely that hei
hair is iu papers. «
6. Do not fail lo keep a bottle of Hunt's
matchless Blacking in your pocket; in case of"
hysterieks it makes an admirable smelling hot
tie. Sir T. L—is never without it.
7. Engrave tho name of your mistress on
the wall of every public house you visit. Gen
teel attentions of this nature never failto please,
8. Should you be anxious to appear unu
sually, instructive or originnl. you may remark
that London is foggy in November, and that
wet feet are apt to give one a cold.
9. Always speak with your mouth fulb
10. Should your mistress be more than com
monly addicted to sentiment, she will exact a
kindred feeling from yourself, to testify which
omit no opportunity of acquainting her with the
variation in the Consuls or the price of Old
Gass Shares.
11. If your mistress abhor dandyism, it i«
carcely necessary to remark that you should
use Macassar oil and wear stays.
12. You will of course be rejected the first
time you “ pop the question.” This is the very
way with the sex, who can no more help va
cillating than a lobster can help turning red
when boiled. I married my first wife (as good
a creature as ever breathed) after having been
thrice rejected ; with respect to the second, sho
poor soul, was n little in liquor nt the time, so
I lay no great stress on her compliance ; my
third and fourth however, expressed such a
detestation of mo pltogether, that I Was mar
ried to both within a month from my first pro.
posals. Do not then despair, but remember
that women, like heretics, adore persecution.
13. Should your mistress be nervous, take
tho earliest opportunity of throwing down tfie
tongs and poker.
Duels—In William Hone’s Table Book wo
find a curious history of Duelling, in the course
of which an npnchryphal story is related of a
duelling society,, which it is related existed in
Charleston about thirty years ago, where each
gentleman took precedence according to the
numbers he had killed or wounded iu duels.
The President was at length shot by an Eng
lish Lieutenant, anil on his death bed begged
of his companions that the society might he
abolished, whiah request was complied with.
Another incident is related as having occur
red of Into in our own city. An English gen
tleman it appenrs had high words with an
American nt a Coffee House. The Jatter im
mediately railed for pistols and insisted upon
fighting across tho table in the presence of the
by assiduity, for many deficiencies, of which I company. This was done and tho Englishman
— ' killed. f
The best disposition of a quarrel that we
ever heard of in this way, was that between a
Spaniard and German, both distinguished, both
in love with the fair Helene Slmrfequin, daugh
ter of the Emperor Maximilian II. The
Prince, after considering tho case, told them
that he esteemed both so highly that he could
not decide between them, but must leave the
event to a personal combat. He did not mean
however, to risk the loss of either, and there
fore forbid offensive weapons, hut ordered a
large bag to he brought into court. It wns
decreed that which ever succeeded in putting
his rival in tjie bag, should espouse the fail
Helene. Tho singular encounter took place
in the presence of the whole court, and lasted
for more than an hour. At length the Spaniard
yielded, and tho Gorman, Baron de Tolbert,
having planted his rival in the bag, took it up
on his back and very gallantly laid it nt tho
feet of his mistress, whom ho married the next
day.—A”. F. Mer. Tel.
Urn
Congressional Almanack Wo have thought
it might bo useful for the observing ones at
Washington to keep n sort of Congressional
Calendar, in which they might set down the
aspect of the times—the changes from fair to
foul, from stormy to calm, from a breeze to a
tornado. Thus: v
“ Rather blustering to-day—wind Southerly,
attended with smart showers of personal abuse,
intormingled with frequent flnshes of fury, and
a portentous bursting of thunder”—” Wind
veers about to the North; clouds beginning
to disperse ; n short interval of cool reason”
begins to cloud up again, and fleecy showers
fall thick, with an occasional rattling of iron
hail; and uoollens about this time are much
talked of, it being considered for the health of
the body politic that they should be encouraged
and to ’set the example, several Honorable
gentlemen are observed to take them on their
shoulders.”—“ Wind Westerly, with a storm
threatening to break down, uproot, or retrench,
whatever is ' rotten in the state of Denmark,’
but unluckily driving in such a direction' and
continuing so long as to sweep some 30,000
sound dollars from the public Treasury
“ Clears up again, leaving however the roads
full of Clay”—“ Weather looks favourable for
hemp”—“Wind Easterly, blowing from the
coast of Wcstborough and therenbouts, bring
ing with it a mighty tempest of memorials, full
of the wrecks of rommcrcc and the ruins of
sea ports forty miles up the country.”—“Fair;
sudden changes; winds shilling; looks ra
ther black in the horizbn ; occasional thunder
and lightning; a tornado from the South; the „
wavesof Roanoke nm high, dashing their tur- he playe
A Dog's Jeics-harp—A brace of Paddies
having recently landed in the U. S. from the
Emerald Isle, went to a tavern and called fot
dinner* Tho landlord informed them that
they had no victuals prepared but apple dum-
plins, which were accordingly set before them.
One says to the other, « what kind of meat is
this, I never saw such meat in Ireland.” “ Ar-
rah, by my show!,” says the other, “ I’ll soon
find out if it’s poison,” and threw one of the
dumphns under the table to a largo dog, who
instantly swallowed it: The heat ofit severely
burning the dog’s throat, the animal began to
whine, and howl and paw his mouth with his
(° r ® feet - “ There, By St. Patrick,” says
Paddy, “ They are dog’s jews-harps, sco luw