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SI I ®®®®®®®
V*l. IV.
MUSCOQSiE DSMOOaAV,
AM MERCANTILE ADVERTISER.
■y Aadrcwi 4c Griswold.
Carner of Randolph and Broad streets, ( up-stairs ,)
COLI..M BUS, (•
TERMS.
TtIRKF. DOLLARS per snnum— in advance.
Two c*pn> tor (5, “ “ “
Ton copie* for s‘2o •*
Two dollars for six months. **
;rjP AU Ltt*r out b freo of poiugf, except where
B.BM is oncloeed.
UaKaswlEswa?.
Tken’i somethin; good in every Heart.
BY THEODORE A. GOULD.
WnuM’st win the crime-stained wanderer back
From vice'* dark and hideous track—
Let not a frown thy brow deform,
•Twill add hut fierceness to the storm;
Deal kindly—in that Imisoid dark
ikitl linger* virtue’s gliraimriug spark ;
I'load with him—tis the nobler part —
There’a something good in every heart!
Bring to his mind the early time,
K*rr sin bad stained his soul with crime;
When fond affection Mess’d his hours—
And <4 re wed his joyous path with flowers;
When aportive jest, and harmless glee
Bespoke a spirit pure and free :
I*l,-ad with him—’tis the nobler part—
There’s something good in every heart!
There was a time that heart did rest,
Close to a mother’s yearning breast—
A time his ear the precepts caught.
A’kind and virtuous fattier taught;
it matters not what treacherous ray,
First lured his steps from virtue's way—
Enough to know thou yet may’st save
That soul from sin’s engulphing wave.
Jlesd with him—act the nobler part—
There's something good in every heart!
From Nosh’s Weekly Messenger.
THE MEDICAL CONSULTATION;
OR T*E DIFFERING DOCTORS.
Mr*. M , the wife of one of our inilloin
• ires, had placed her eldest daughtcr.Miss M. t
ear of our most fashionable female seminaries,
to put a finish to her education.
In he mon'h of December last Mrs. M. was
* wlenly summoned to attend op her daughter,
•\Ho, she whs ’formed bad been atlacl -4 u h
a ('.seise term- : by our physicians piJiuonia—
tiy those unacquainted with Medical leans, in
flammation on the lungs.
With a mother’s fears and haste, Mrs. M.
(ordered her carriage and proceeded to the sem
inary of Miss H , in Bleecker street.—
Scarcely had the bell rung, when the principal
of the establishment appeared at the door, to
welcome the arrival of her anxious guest.
•How is ny dear child ?’ inquired Mrs. M.
•We hope she is not worse,* was the reply ;
*but Dr. C.. my family physician is with her.
He will give you a more correct opinion than I
■can.*
•Let me sec him instantly,’ said the dealing
parent. ‘I will have nil the doctors in New
York, but my child shall be saved.’ So saying,
Mr*. M., leaning on the arm of Miss H., as.
cended the stairs and entered the chamber of
the invalid.
Seated by the bedside of the patient was a
tall, thin personage, with full dark eyes—hair
that was just turning from black to grey—large
•lose, rather aquiline, and an air denoting no
inconsiderable idea of what the Fowleis call
self-esteem. This disciple of jEsCtil.tpius ap.
j,eared to be about forty.live years of age, and
had the reputation of being a literary man — ’
having compiled several medical works. It was
•aid that hv merit or interest he had been ap
pointed to a professorship in a distant medical
college.
Alter the first paroxysm of feeling had subsi-;
ded between the mother and daughter, the for. ’
hut turned to Dr. C. and said— What is my j
daughter’s complaint, doctor V
•The lungs, my dear madam, are evidently
much affected—the pulse full, rapid and wiry,
at 130, indicate* an excess of arterial action.—
1 should advise that Miss. M. be immediately
bled, and subsequently placed in a warm bath.’
•Did you say bled, doctor V said Mr*. M. ‘My
physician, Dr. J., in Greenwich street, says if
nature had ever intended that bleeding from
the system should afTord relief in disease, it
would have left a hole in the arm for the blood
to run out at.’
‘Dr. J. is a very respectable physician,’
•aid Dr. C., ‘but he is wedded to a particular
school.’
•Well, doctor,’ replied Mrs. M., ‘I have much
faith in Dr. J. Have you any objection to con.
suit with him in this case ?’
•None whatever, ray dear madam,’ replied
I>r. C.: ‘it would give me infinite pleasure.’
A partial sensation of choking attended the
uUeraucn of the latter portion of tho doctor's
reply, which lie ascribed to the effect of the gas i
that had escaped from a stove in the chamber.
Mrs. M. lost no timo in despatching her ser
vant to the residence of Dr. J., and that gentle,
man was quickly at the bedside of Miss M.
After feeling Iter pulse, and counting it by a
second watch—examining the tongue, and test,
inf the condition of the lungs by consultation,
both anteriorly and posteriorly—Dt. J. suggest
ed the propriety es retiring with Dr. C. to con
sult oa tha case.
•Do agree, my dear doctor,’ said Mrs. M., as
the two physicians left the room, ‘or tny child, I
fear, will Isa lost,’
The doctors descendod into the front parlor.
Upon taking their seats, an ominous pause nn.
staid, which was af length broken by Dr. J.
“AS LITTI.E GOVERNMENT AS TOSSIULK ; THAT LITTLE EMANATING FROM AND CONTROLLED BY THE PEOPLE, AND UNIFORM IN’ ITS VI'FLICA’JION TO ALL.’’
‘This is a pretty severe case,’ said he, ad.
dressing Dr. C. ‘There is great irritation—
the pulmonary murmur is very indistinct—and
I much fear that congestion will ensue if active
measures are not taken to relieve the immense
arterial pressure.’
•I am decidedly of your opinion,’ replied Dr.
C., ‘and had just proposed that Miss M. should
be bled ‘addeliqium aniini.’
•Hah !’ said Dr. J., with a respiration which
seemed to have no limit—‘Yes !’ A yawn fol
lowed the last word, which a casual observer
might have feared would produce lock jaw.—
•Yes—bleeding, as you observe, is frequently
practiced in these cases ; but —l—l—must
candidly say that my experience does not justi
fy me in recommending it.’
‘Yon admit,’ said Dr. C., ‘that the lungs are
‘ highly inflamed—that tho minute ramifications
of the bronchial tubes are involved in the dis.
eased action—that congestion may ensue if the
pressure is not taken off?’
‘Mist certainly; in the prognosis we perfect
ly agree.’
‘Will you then suggest some other means,’
said Dr. C., ‘by Which the first great object on
which depends the life of our patient may be
accomplished V
*1 would in the first place,’ replied Dr. J.,
give ten grains of calomel—my favorite reme
dy ; apply six leeches over the pulmonary re
gloti, and administer nauseating doses of tartar
emetic. The first will act upon the secretions
—a very important object; the second will re
lieve the pressure on the lungs, the third will
j determine to the surface.’
•Your suggestions, in a less precarious case,
might receive tny assent,’ said Dr. C ; ‘but in
the present, I must insist on the necessity of
general bleeding.’
‘Will it not be better, then, to call in a third
physician ?’ said Dr. J.
‘1 perfectly ngree to that proposal,’ said Dr.
C.. bowing.
Mrs. M., mentally harrassed by the long con
sultulion and final disagreement of the doc
tors, entered the patlor, much excited, at the
: moment they had agreed to disagree.
j ‘Well, gentlemen,’ said she,’ what is the re
| suit of your consultation ?’
The doctors for a moment looked vacantly
at each other, then on the floor and ceiling,
and ultimately out at the window, apparently
unconscious-of, or stupefied by, the rational
question of the parent.
| ‘Why are you silent, gentlemen?’ said Mrs.
!M. ‘Why do you stare on each other, and
; then on me, as if sense had taken its leave of
! your brains ?’ 1 came to ask your united opin
ion, but receive no answer, save a vacant stare
and an apparently paralyzed tongue.’
‘Madam,’ said Dr. J.. whose respiration, sus
pended by the sudden entrance of Mrs. M., was
partially returning—‘yes, madam, the symp
toms of Miss M. are not favorable. The lungs
are much affected—we must relieve them ; but,
madam, the means—yes, the means which nre
placed in our power to relieve suffering are va
rious. The best means are the result of scion
tif.c research and long experience. Dr. C. and
myself agree, perfectly in the diagnosis and
prognosis ; but, madam—my friend will ex
plain! Doctor, please to explain to Mrs. M.’
•Madam,’ said Dr. C., whose self-possession
rarely forsook him, except when too much crit
ical acumen was bestowed upon his liter
ary labors, *Dr. J. and myself do not agree on
a very important point—that of bleeding—in
this case. The doctor never bleeds in any
case, whiie I advocate its necessity in many,
and particularly in that of your daughter. We
have therefore decided to take a third opinion.’
‘Y'ou will drive me mad !’ said Mrs. M. ‘I
sent for you to relive my child ; and here, af.
ter an hour’s fruitless consultation spent in dis
agreeing,l am just where I commenced. Gan
that be called anything hut empiricism which
leads to such results ?’
M rs. M. immediately despatched her man
for Dr. P., one of the most eminent Broadway
physicians. The servant hurried to Dr. P.’s
residence and delivered the note of Mrs. M.
‘Are there any physicians attending Miss M ?’
said the doctor.
‘Yes,’ replied the servant—‘Dr. C. and Dr. J.’
‘Are they members oltlie Medical Academy V
said Dr. P.
‘I don’t know what Medical ‘Cademy means,’
said the mail. ‘They call ’em doctors—that’s
all I knows.’
Dr. P. retired to examine the printed list of j
the •Medical Academy’ members, found the
names of the medical attendants of Miss M.
were not partakers of the benefits of that learn
ed and distinguished institution, and, returning
to Mrs. M.’s seivant, said—‘Tell Mrs. M. I ‘
cannot meet her physicians. They do not he.
long to vs /’
‘Who shall I tell her us is ?’ said the man.
•Why, we, to he sure,’ said the doctor.
‘I guess that us and we would umount to |
much the same thing,’ replied the servant, ‘and
1 should be sent buck to ask w hut is the English j
of these words.’
Dr. P. could not forbear smiling ns ho con- j
tinned—‘Tell Mrs. M. that her doctors are not
of the ‘Medical Academy,’ and that its members j
are tho regular faculty.’
•Oh! tell Mrs. M.,’ said tho man, ‘that you,
are rrg’lars and that her doctors ain't rtg'lars
—that you belong to the what d'ye.call it ‘cad.
tmy, and that her doctors haven't been ut no
‘cademy!’
•Tall her what I fold you,’ said Dr. P. The j
man was in a lew minutes in tho presence ofj
hi* mistress, delitering, in hi* peculiar man. |
fieri the massage of the medical academician .
AND MERCANTILE ADVERTISER.
COIsUIfIBUS, Georgia, Thursday Evening, April li7, ISIS.
Mrs. M. was bewildered, and summoned the
two attending physicians into her room, demand
ed upon what grounds Dr. P. refused to meet
them ?’
They replied—‘We are equally qualified with
Dr. P. to practice medicine. Ono of us is a
graduate of the old school—the other, of the
University of New York. We are not mem
bers ofa new and self-constituted society term
ed the ‘Medical Academy,’ and we presume
that is the reason why a prominent member of
this exclusive body refuses to meet us ; but in
a case like this, humanity demands we should
submit even to arrogance and injustice. We
will therefore retire and thus remove the cause
ot refusal on the part of Dr. P.’ The doctors
bowed and retired.
A member of the Medical Academy was
now sent for, in the person of Dr. G., a young
physician in Houston street; but Mrs. M. was
doomed to suffer by every fresh medical arrival.
Dr. G. recommended a mode of treatment, the
antipodes of that which had befote been advis
ed. Acting upon the principle of Biiandreth,
that the blood is the seat of all disease, the doc
tor prescribed a strong dose of Croton oil, fol
lowed by some saline purgative, to clear the al.
imentary canal, and the application ofa Glister
over the chest. Mrs. M. looked upon her new
medical friend with petrified astonishment.
‘ls not Croton oil,’ said she, ‘the most pow
erlul known purgative, and is my daughter in a
state to bear its exhibition ?’
‘The case is perfectly safe in my care,’ said
Dr. G. ‘I am one of the ‘Medical Academy.’
Mrs. M., however demurred to this accadem
ical assurance. The discordances in medical
opinions which she had witnessed had shaken
her faith in the ./Esculapian art, and she re
plied to the young, but doubtless perfectly qual
ified, academician—‘l cannot, sir consent to
your treatment without a consultation. Send
for whom you please ; but I must insist upon
being present during your consultation.’
The youthful physician consented, but was
somewhat startled at the extraordinary proposi
tion of Mrs. M. Some misgivings had arisen
in his mind as to his Croton oil treatment. So
far as the physician who would be called in
was concerned, he felt perfectly safe. The
bye-laws of the academy had provided a safe
guard, in the secrecy of its members, for even
worse than error— ignorance.
The reverie was soon broken by the arrival
of Dr. P. Being ushered into the sick cham
ber, he carefully examined the patient, and re
tired to consult with his young friend on the
case. True to her purpose, and emboldened
by anxiety, Mrs. M. followed the retiring physi
cians into their consulting room, and addressing
Dr. P., said—‘ls Croton oil a safe and proper
medicine to administer to my daughter ?’
The doctor looked in astonishment at the
question, as he replied— ‘ I should doubt, ma
dam, the efficiency of Croton oil, except as an
external applicant to produce counter irritation.’
•I asked you, sir,’ said Mrs. M. ‘because
your friend had advised its exhibition internal
ly•’
‘Oh—yes—ah ! I see how it is,’ said Dr. P.
•Yes, as you said, Dr. G., Croton oil might
at the moment have suggested itself to you, in
your anxiety for the sufferer.’
•Precisely so,’ said the. younger physician, ‘I
had altered tny opinion before your arrival, and
I am rejoiced to find you agree with me.’
‘Will you do us the favor, Mrs. M.,’ said the
elder physician,‘to retire that we may consult
on the case of your daughter ?’
*1 am sorry 1 cannot comply with your re- j
quest,’ replied Mrs. M. ‘The safety of my
child will warrant the decision to which I have j
come, after the wavering medical opinions of
which she and myself are the victims.’
‘We shall be compelled to withdraw, then,’
said Dr. P., ‘without writing a prescription.’
‘lf it be so, I regeet it,’ said Mrs. M. , ‘but my j
determination is fixed.’
The doctors at once withdrew.
The secret of Mrs. M.’s assumed indepen-j
dene** lay in the fact that a kind friend, who tin- )
derstood disease without being termed a doctor
had advised the warm hath, mustard plasters,
and nauseating doses of Ipecac, which had much
relieved the sufferer.
A consultation was now held in relation to
further medical advice, and Dr. W. of Amity
street, was recommended, sent for, and came.
This physician boldly asserted that bleeding,
either general or local, was out of the question
—that calomel was absolute poison—and that S
the previous physicians had entirely mistaken
the correct treatment.
‘Take one of these pills,’ said Dr. W. pre
senting a box containing twelve pills weighing
about the sixtieth part of a grain each, ‘every
hail’hour. In six hours you will he greatly re-1
lieved, and well in less than twenty.four.’
‘How very small these pills are!’ said Mrs.
M. ‘Do you think, doctor one of them can pro
duce any effect J’
‘Certainly,’ replied ‘lie doctor. ‘The drugs of
which these pills are composed, would, in
large, doses, produce inflammation on the lungs;’
and all medicines which, in large doses, will
produce disease, will cure it when given in the
doses in which we administer them. These
are culled the lnfinitcsmal do=cs of •Homorpa
thv.’
The pinhead pills were tried, hut no visi.
hie effect was produced during the probation
or at its termination; and strong auspicious
tvero entertained that in those cases in which
homoipHthy had been said to cure disease, na
ture had performed tho office, and allowed the
new tangent of medicine tho credit. Bo that
as it may, no relief was obtained, and Dr. G.,
a praefiouer of a different school, in Fourteenth
street, was called in. Dr. G. advised that the
sufferer should be enveloped in sheets fully
saturated and frequently replenished with cold
spring v-ate.r for four successive hours. All
stood aghast in nmte astonishment at the pro
position. It was the middle of wintec —the
thermometer below zero !
‘\\ ould not so cold an application produce
injurious consequences ?’said Mrs. M.
• Certainly not,’ said the Hydropathist, for
suctf was Dr. G.—< Certainly not. After the
application of the sheets, reaction will take
place—the blood will fly from the centre to the
surface—much animal heat will be evolved —
profuse perspiration will break out, and your
daughter will be anew creature.’
* She will, doubtless,’ said a voice in the
room, which was recognised as that of a cele
brate! physician, known well in Europe for his
medical attainments, and among us by his tra r*
els in the eastern hemisphere. ‘She will be
a neip creature—enveloped in her winding
sheet, and reposing in her death bed.’
The ‘hydropathist’ looked daggers at the al
lopathist.
1 • You may ridicule my treatment as you. l
please, Dr. M.,’ said lie ; 1 but do not your pa
tients frequently die from congestion, in the
absence of all cold applications? And as to
empiricism, do you recollect Swaim,’ the pa
nacea man, of Philadelphia ? Do you remem
ber giving that fortunate empiric your certifi
cate, setting forth the rare virtues of his nos
trum, subsequently denying its efficacy, and
finally submitting to the painful humiliation of
seeing your certificate and signature in the
public prints with the oath of its validity, by
Swaim, attached thereto? Are you oue of the
pillars of the Medical Academy?’
The aliopathist withdrew in much chagrin.
Mrs. M. now addressed the ‘ hydropathist,’
and said— l Sir, my daughter, thanks to the
non interference of physisians who cannot
agree on any single point, is much better. I
agree with Dr. M. that tiie hydropathic treat,
ment would have destroyed my daughter—-in
hommopathy, I believe nature does all —while
no two allopathists agree as to the treatment of
a specific disease. What is termed the regular
ly educated physician, in or out of the ‘Medical
Academy,’ may differ in species from the empiri
cal, uneducated, and wholesale destroyer of life
but from what lias so painfully and recently
passed under my own observation. I cannot
separate him wholly from the genus. With
the exception of eclectics, anew branch of an
old school, I have consulted all the pathists of
our city ; and while they have been differing
about the means, nature has accomplished the
end.’
A CHAPTER ON EATING.
1 Hungering man,
Fretful, if unsupplied,’
Mr. Leonidas Boyd had partaken of a plenti
ful breakfast; he had read the morning papers
through; he had stood directly in front of the
fire, with his hands clasped under his coat-skirts,
and was thoroughly warm; he had kicked off
his slippers, and drawn on his nicely polished
boots ; he had muffled up in his sack, neck-cloth
and gloves, put on his hat, and was passing down
j the door-steps, when a voice from behind arrest
ed his progress; for Mrs. Leonidas Boyd ex
claimed, “Don’t forget the salt, my dear!” and a
j moment after, “nor the salaeratus and starch !”
I As men go, Mr. Leonidas Boyd was a good
| man, a kind husband, and an indulgent father.—
j Not a day passed but his handkerchief was tied
j into a half-dozen knots to remind him of things
lie never would remember; not a day which he ;
j did not say, “Yes, my child,” and “I will my
dear!” to requests he was sure to forget. The
i butcher’s bill, the coal-man’s bill, the flour-man’s
j bill, the house rent, were all quickly settled, and
cheerfully he bought cotton-cloth, new dresses,
bonnets and school-books ; but there was ever ‘
a mystery to his masculine understanding. He j
could not comprehend what became of the minor
groceries that went into his house ; and as he
paced with quick steps the road leading to his
place of business, his meditations ran thus ;
“Don’t forget the salt my dear !” No I won’t j
forget the salt; hut I wonder what has become of
the last I bought! “Starch and salairatus,” too.
I never taste salaeratus in any thing; the cook
must throw that away ; and starch—let me see;
that goes into my shirts; but it can’t take a
pound for a shirt. There’s “soap,” and “few
more eggs, my dear.” Last week it was “some
indigo, and anew mop ; a little sand and some
soda ;” to-morrow it will be ‘‘Bristol brick and
a pound of ginger.” What women want of so
many things I cannot imagine ; but my wife
shall have what she wants if she is rational about
what she calls “housekeeping.”
Every town has its Mr. Leonidas ; men whose
perceptions arc obtuse on the subject of small I
domestic needs ; men to whom littlo wants are
no wants at all, and to whose minds what they
don’t sec used is sure to bo wasted ; and men who
wonder where the salt goes, men who think
women make ton much ado about house-keeping;
men, in short, who are great connoisseurs of the
culinary art in general, but have no conception
of its multiplicity of details, and who buy butter,
sugar, lard, peppcr.and spice, and verily think
that they are doing their wives a great favor—
Fating is on tho whole, a serious business.—
When we take into consideration the sustaining j
of vital energies and the consequent actions, the
office of cook liccomes one of solemn interest;
and tho incessant demands made by that orifice
with which tho “human face divine” is garnish
ed, seems hut reasonable. Tho republican
sometimes wonders if royalty condescends to
roast potatoes uud bread and butter, and thinks
that Victoria should, like tho fairies, be fed ou
broiled rose-leaves; or, if mortal, on pound cake
and custard ; at the farthest, should Her Majcs- j
ty choose a bit of flesh, lot it be a “squab-an- •
gel” or some cherub oysters :—Prince Albert
might have “four-and-twenty black birds baked
in a pie,” and have high precedent therefor ;
and Montezuma, we read, relished his st-w or
fricasee of tender little children ; a dish difficult
to fie furnished often in a private family. But
common people with common appetites will sub
mit to coarse fare; mid ever since our great
grandmother Eve got into the foolish habit of
waiting upon Adam and handing him apples, it
has fallen to woman’s lot to be a cooking ani
mal. Ages agoit waJbestablGljed as a fgol that,
the way to a man’s heart was titroffgh Tils stom
ach. The Irishman sitting by his peat-firc, be
gritnmed with smoke, thinks
“The very best comfort, under the sun,
Is to sit by the fire till the ’taters is done:”
a Dutchman smiles when he sees suits and
scralls, and tastes sourkrout. The southern ne
gro will dance after eating his poke-greens and
bacon. The city loafer is only happy when
“Some faithful she
Is fryin’ sassengers for he.’ ’
The city merchant cries :
“A tine leg of mutton my dearie,
I pri’thee have ready at three ;
Have it smoking and juicy,
And what better dish can there be?”
The city “merchant-lord” must have his many
courses; the fisherman his “lobscouse,” and the
back-woods-man his “chicken fixins” and “shan
ty cake.” The careful housewife, taught by
experience, soon discerns what this experience
before her eyes, what wonder that her heart is
often in a greater tumult than the pots boiling !
tempestously over the tire, and that her spirits
will rise and fall with the bread in the oven ?
A kitchen ; what is it ? In the words of anoth
er, “it is not a ware-house, nor a wash-house. ; a
brew house, nor a bake-house ; an inn-house,
nor an out-house, nor a dwelling-house.” No;
’tis absolutely and bona-fide neither more nor
less than a kitchen; or as the law more classi
cally expresses it, “a kitchen is camera neces.
saria pro usus cookare cum sace pannis, sculle
ro, dressero, coal-hole, stovis, smoke-jackeo
pro roastanduin, boilandum, fryandutn, et plumb
pudding mixandum, pro turtle-soupus calve’s
liead hashibus, cum calipee et calipashibus.”—-
And to be captain of this establishment, keep
each boiler from bursting, and make three regu
lar trips daily, and found, from thence to the fam
ily table, requires some skill, fortitude and pa
tience: yes! and “sugar and spice, that’s very
nice.”
r \ man’s theory of cooking consists in “ stir
ring up something” and baking it until it is done;
carried into practice it would be worse than the
French “oila podridra,” wherein “a little of any
thing you have is put into a pot half-full of
water, boiled an hour, seasoned with salt and
pepper, and served up hot;” or on a festival-day
it might amount to the Spanish recipe for the
same dish : “Take a little of every thing you
have got, boil it hard for an hour, season it to
your taste, and garnish it with parsley.” There
is little romance about a kitchen fireplace. The
beautiful theory of Jiving upon the fruits of the
earth is charming to the young maiden on the
eve of matrimony and housekeeping. She will
regale herself and her husband on apples, peach
es and pears for breakfast. She will never be- j
come a drudge to her own house—not she ! |
No doubt but a turnipfield and a good well of
water would sustain life ; but we opine that our
lord of creation would find his way to a cook
shop and ottr lady fair seek for consolation
where the Dutchess of Orleans said she could
always find it in her times of affliction; in eat
ing ham and sausages. Y r et, after all, there is
a satisfaction in having got up one’s victuals j
nicely, apart from the mere eating of them. A
trifle, a stick of green wood, a falling of a little
soot from the chimney, a grain of salt or pepper
too much or too little, and alas for the dinner !
Or if the housekeeper has done by means of her
independent proxy, viz : help, then the trifle, ofa
soil or hard word, and the whole family circle
must be happy or unhappy. Happy it is, and j
she rejoices over her dinner, and feels
when it is aver. Had Madam Nature (a pretty
good world-keeper we think) hung dinners on
apple trees and made vines bear good cooked j
breakfasts, caused the earth to send up bubbling
springs of good hot soup, and made turkeys to
run about roasted and chickens to issue fricaseed
from the white houses of their infancy, we doubt
whether man or womankind would have been
as well satisfied. Did not Pat Tigg enjoy him
self hugely when hp thought
“To-morrow I’ll kill my fat pig,
For I’m sure lie’ll make illigant mutton;”
So then he goes into the hovel,
And hangs the pig up by the heel,
Cuts his throat so nate with the shovel,
And cries, “this is the way to dress veal!”
And did not the cobbler’s wife bustle about and
feol consequentially happy when her lame-legged
spouse hung out his shingle?
“Her Kake and Pise and Bier I sell,
And oysters sto'd and in the slid,
And fried ’uns tew for them that chews,
And with despatch mends Butes and Shews!”
Then hear how like a connoisseur the black
man tells us the best way to cook the pearly
grains of rice : “Wash him well, much wash in
cold water; rich flour make him stick ; wash
all quite away. \\ ater boil very fast: throw
rice in, boil quarter hour, rub one rice between
thumb and linger; if all rubaway, him quite done.
Put rice in cullender, hot water go n way. pour
cup of cold water on him; put him back in sauce
pan; keep him covered by fire; then he nil
ready. Eat him up—lie very good!” Nes,
Mr. Potnpey, Cato, or Plonty, whatever your
name be, “he very good,” and love to cook him.
Who wants buckwheat cakes on a hot sum
mer morning, chicken pie when they are ill. or i
gruel when they are well ? The man who tie-,
sires green peas in December and relishes cu-j
cumbers in January is one who would turn the j
world upside down, and ought himself to be put,
under a forcing glass until better tustes and aims
are developed. We like a dinner in style, with
a bit of biscuit and napkin, its silver fork and
finger-glass, its soup, its fish, its saiiad, its fruits,
its wines ; but deliver us from it on I hanksg.v
ing day. — Knickerbocker.
MIL HANNEGAN’S SPEECH.
The following is an extract from the speech of
Mr. Hitnnegan, in the Senate of the U. States,
on the Resolutions of congratulation to F.ance:
In the history of man, there has occurred no
more signal event than the recent French revo
lution. It is marked all over, at every step,
from first to last, from the highest to the hum
blest actor, by a moral grandeur that finds its on
ly prototype in the conduct of our own heaven
guided ancestors. When revolts occur in king
j dotns-—when man* kisbed to pbor-nsy-hy si! tha
woes of oppression, rises hut to strike a single
blow, and liill from the ignominious scaffold to
the unopuuted grave—when the chains of the
oppressor are thus rivited tighter and lighter—
when humanity and liberty have been laid to
gether in acommon grave—these nionarchs have
often exchanged congratulations.
At this Ipjur, when emancipated France—
emancipated without a crime, without a stain ex
tends her new-born hand, and from her cradle
lifts her smiling front, gazing at us, shall wo
pause—coldly pause—and give back the look
with marble features ? or shall we return the
smile, and, with our heartfelt salutations, cheer
her to the richer than golden harvest 1 If there
was anything in these resolutions contrary to
the usages of nations—any principle at war with
the proprieties of international communication,
I should feel bound, from this high piace, to hes
itate and weigh every contingent resu't. But I
I am unable to discover the rule or the reason
: against a national salutation from the matron
| government of republican America to the infant
: government of republican France. It is in the
i name of our people that we send the greeting. —
I It is in obedience to the high behests ol the ever
j active, the hunured-cyed genius of our institu
j lions. We send to a recognised government —
i recognised by all the foreign officials in France,
|so far as I can learn. Our own minister led
| the way. I trembled when the first news came,
| lest he should hang back wailing an example.
But I am happy to think he has discharged his
j duty ;he went foremost; and, if he had net —
I better for him, far better*that he should never
i again put his foot upon his native land.
| Why shall we not, as representatives of our
, country and her institutions, salute those who
are struggling to imitate us ? Monarch can sa
’ j lute monarch, even upon the birth of an infant
| heir to unlimited despotism. Shall we (alter in
! a salutation to the presence of rational Liberty?
I know the doubt, the, fearful doubt, that exists
i in many of the greatest minds—even in some of
; the most honored fathers that surround me ; anci
(l know, too, from conversation on all sides, ns
i; well as I can learn, that doubts can only be ex
’ j pressed by the word solicitude — the deep, deep
solicitude with which maternal love watches the
] first steps of the idolized boy. Will he tumble ?
j will he fall? The fine-turned limbs, the flash
: ing eye, lorbid the thought. He will walk, and
j walk to noble and vigorous manhood! France
l will walk, and walk to noble and vigorous man
j hood 1 This feeling inspires some misgivings,
not in the purity of intention which discloses
this great struggle, but in the detail which is to
; seal the result. Her national assembly is, per*
| haps, too numerous—one-fifth the number would
j have repiesented all the dopuitments, ail the in
| terests of the French people, and avoided the
| dangers of faction and tumult. But I can feel
Ino doubt of the issue. The descendants ol the
consecrated Gironde, united with the schools
| polytechnique, supported by the press and the
intelligence of France, will avoid the terrible
1 obstacle of the Mountain and the Jacobin on
j their way to regulated, constitutional liberty.
I trust with abiding confidence in the mode.
’ ration, the wisdom, the public virtue, the intel
| lect of France. I rest as seated on a rock, up.
! on the steady patriotism of the French people, in
sustaining tiyise great intellects who lead the
i way, pointing to the high destiny of France
I with all the sublimity of faith, ail the fervor of
the seer. 1 dread no rising cloud which my
friend from Alabama [Mr. Bagby] pictured the
other day ; I will not fear the baleful cloud of
! anarchy, lighted from every verge by eccentric
fires, ands ‘seping on the tempest wings to
blast with its thunderbolts the new-sprung hopes
of freedom and mankind. Perish the thought!—
the prospect shall be lighted only by the lambent
tire of exultant hope.
At this hour the spirit of freedom is on foot i:i
lands and amongst people, where its faintest
sighs have been unheard for centuries. Laly,
the schoolboy’s theme, the land of bis golden
visions and his dreams—of Cresar and oi iaci
tus—and of old liberty-loving Gennany, are
i again warmed by the celestial flame. Europe
!i rocked bv a moral earthquake. Every sue
-1 cessive throe discloses some new breathing-place
i for the subterranean fire, which, long suppressed,
’ is bursting with niore than volcanic power into
the light and the approving presence ui God.
Sir, our example has done all this, i ep.
I pressed and famine-stricken oi the Oid World
1 have annually flocked by thousands for refuge
to us, the only resting-place !< r over-tasked htt- .
| inanity. They have drunk of the cup which
! never exhausts—they lone fed at the board
i whose necromantic supplies me spieas ith
, more than “ Bacchannal profusion. ’ They nave
listened to the ministrations of his piiostundis
i bowed at the altar of their God unquestioned, and
:im bed. They have walked by day and slept by
i night, in s-a icily—tie- rude latch their only guard
! —mid no proud emissary of oppression to with.
|. v ihe green sward of their humble
; J ou ,“ Tlu v have found a home
Where gods might love to dwell
And wander with delight, or sit tsiiu
Its sacred shades!
All this they have widen, ship lead after shir*
load, to those they have left behind; and thus
the silent and invisible power of the Almighty
has brought the masses to the aid of the master
spirits that from their closets have so long ir
voked tho blessings ot freedom. Cut perhaps I
wander. I will only add, that my vote snail bo
given with heartfelt pleasure at once for thus©
or any similar resolutions; and I trust tnat the
*<> 17.