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enquired where-a-bouts the chancellor might
be found ?
N o t far off,"’ said the sportsman; and,
just as he spoke, a covey of partridges got up
at which he fired, but without success. The
stranger left him, crossed another field or two,
and witnessed from a little distance the dis
charge of several shots as unproductive as
the first.
“You don't seem to make much at that,’
paid he, coming back. “I wish you could
tell me whereto meet with Lord Eldon.”
“Why, then,” said the other, “I am Lord
Eldon.” .
The clergyman fell a stammering and apol
ogising, till the chancellor asked him rather
shortly, “whence he came, how he got to
Encombe, and what he wanted there'?” The
poor clergyman said he had come from Lan
cashire to the Bull and Mouth in London;
and finding the chancellor had left town, and
having no money to spare, he had walked
from London to Encombe; and that he was
Mr. , the curate of a small parish, which
he mentioned, and of which the incumbent
was just dead, and that he was come to soli
cit the vacant benefice.
“I never give answer to applicants coming
hither,” said the chancellor, “or 1 should
never have a moment to myself; and I can
only express my regret that you should have
taken the trouble of coming so far to no pur
pose.”
The Suitor said, —
“If so, he had no alternative but to go back
to the Bull and Mouth, where he expected to
find a friend who would give him a cast back
into Lancashire,” and, with a heavy heart
took leave.
When he arrived at the Bull and Mouth, a
letter, in an unknown hand, was waiting for
him. lie opened the cover with the anxious
curiosity of a man to whom epistolary com
munications are rare; and had the joy of find
ing it in a good-humored note from the chan
cellor, giving him the preferment.
“ But now,” added Lord Eldon, with a wag
gish smile, “ see the ingratitude of mankind.
It was not long before a large present of game
reached me, with a letter from my new-made
rector, purporting that he had sent it me be
cause, from what he had seen of my shooting,
he supposed I must be badly off for game !
Think of histurning upon mein this way after
the kindness 1 had done him, and wounding
me in my very tenderest point!”— Campbell's
Lives of the Lord Chancellor.
A VIEW ON ALABAMA RIVER.
If you take a stroll, along the shaded banks
of the Alabama river, on a soft, sunny morn
ing in Spring, (a Southern Spring begins in
February, but April will yield you some de
lightful (lays.) when the wooing blandness of
the air disposes you to serene meditation and
love of Nature, you will have some hours of
enjoyment that any inhabitant of the city
might envy you. As you inhale the fresh
air, loaded with the perfume of young, green
leaves, and the fragrance of prairie-flowers,
and look around on the varied landscape, you
will feel that an hour, of communion with
Nature’s beauty, is worth more than can be
estimated. .
A chief element, in these pleasurable emo
tions, is, the delicious mildness of the weath
er. Here, are no harsh or cutting gales, to
sweep by, and bring a wintry frown over
the summer scene. A balmy softness per
vades the w hole atmosphere: a quiet, dreamy
languor insensibly falls upon you, soothing
all tumultuous sensations, till you feel that
there is tranquil happiness in the very air and
blessed sunshine.
Ascend now, by a winding path, to the
summit of that lofty bluff, which commands a
wide and beautiful range of scenery. On the
right, the dingy blue waters of the river wind
their sluggish course, between high and rug
ged banks. Huge crags of limestone, green
with damp moss, project, here and there, over
shadowed by the lofty sycamore and wide
spreading oak, while clusters of mountain-lau
rel intervene, their rich blossoms contrasting
beautifully, with the deep green of the sur
rounding foliage. A wide forest-scene, undu
lating like the sea, and varied by the play of
light and shade over the tree tops, .stretches
beyond; indented, here and there, with plan
tations and prairies. The prairies are not, as
in the West, clothed with tall, waving grass,
for the grass, here, is short and comparative
ly scanty; but they are absolutely covered
with bright yellow flowers. They are not
extensive, and have the appearance of so
many lovely flower-gardens, scattered amidst
a wilderness of woods.
On your left, and parallel to each other,
two wide and fertile valleys slope, gradually,
in the distance. These are cultivated, and
beautifully diversified with copse, and field,
and habitation. Large plantations stretch out
3:D b xl is la ii aifBIBA& ¥8 A 3 Sif 1 7IE ♦
as far as the eye can reach. The meadow
land is not watered by branches; but, here
and there, you may trace a moist spot, covered
with green ooze, that has been formed by the
rains. The negro huts are built in regular
files, (streets on a small scale;) and, neatly
whitewashed, with the smoke curling above
them, they offer the appearance of a miniature
village. Thq long furrows of ihe corn and
cotton fields, fringed with the young and ten
der plant, the green sweeps of forest, beyond,
and the pine-ridge, distinctly marked against
the horizon by its peculiar blue, —form an im
posing picture ; while the white smoke, curl
ing gracefully upwards from the scattered
farm houses, the laborers, busy in the fields,
the ploughman’s whoop, the shrill whistle,
and the distant laugh, serve to give life and
cheerfulness to the scene. To crown all, the
morning mist has risen in the glowing sun
shine, and hangs, like a transparent and silv
ery veil, over the soft landscape, showering
tenfold beauty on what it strives to hide.
[Mrs. ElleVs Country Rambles.
£l)c lUorkirtg Man.
THE TELEGRPAH.
BY A WORKING MAN.
lie who created heaven and earth,
And gave the rolling thunder birth,
Who holds the ocean in his hand,
Whose waves are stayed at his command,
Who made the gorgeous sun to gild
The humblest cot that man can build,
Who strewed the earth with lovely flowers,
And gave to man gigantic powers,
Hath kindly unto Morse revealed
What heretofore has been concealed,
lie doth the rapid lightning tame —
A Telegraph he calls its name —
And with a single vivid flash,
A dot —a space —a line —a dash —
Can send around the earth the news.
Or stop it just as he may chose,
What a mysterious mighty power !
No noise is heard —no cloud doth lower,
And yet the lightning wings its way,
And tells whate’er we have to say.
MANUFACTURES IN THE SOUTH.
The question has been with a great num
ber of planters in the South, “ whether shall
the cotton field be carried to the factory or
the factory to the cotton field.” The June
number of the Western Journal contains a
long and ably written article to prove the ne
cessity and utility of the Southern and South
western States becoming manufacturing as
well as agricultural. Southern States, espec
ially Georgia, manufacture their own coarse
cotton goods, and they are of superior quality
and there can be no doubt that at no distant
day the cotton manufacture will be engrossed
by the cotton growing States. In manufac
turing upon the plantation, the whole car
riage of the material is at least saved and this
is not a little. The question is therefore set
tled that the loom should come to the cotton,
for Georgia has now 32 factories and more in
the course of construction. We lately con
versed with a gentleman from Florida, who
informed us that there was a factory near
Pensacola that turned out most splendid
coarse goods —what are called negro goods—
which can suffice for southern clothing for at
least nine months in the year. Maryland has
long been a manufacturing State. Old Vir
ginia is now grasping the spinning jenny and
power loom and so is South Carolina, and
not a bit of chivalry sacrificed, but rather
stimulated. We trust, however, that with
the progress of manufactures in the South,
the cold-hearted greed of gain will not banish
the ancient pride of noble hospitality.
1 i
PROFITS OF FARMING.
A correspondent of the Boston Cultivator ,
states the success of a man who left a lucra
tive business in the city of Philadelphia, for
farming to make profit. After two years tri
al, he was asked if he did not find the profits
small, compared with those of his trade. He
answered, “quite the contrary; I have alrea
dy realized far more than I dared to anticipate,
and I am at the end of two years richer than
I ever could have become by 25 years of suc
cessful trade. It is true, I had more dollars
and cents in trade than I have now, but that
is dross compared with the blessings of body,
and peace of mind, which gold and silver
could never purchase. I eat, drink and sleep
with an appetite; yawn at bedtime, and nev
er in the morning; am up before the sun, and
yet the day is never too long; and more than
all, I have no acceptances to take up. Mon
ey ! why what use have I for it ? I raise my
own food in the richest profusion, and my
own clothing—my estate is annually increas
ing in value—then what is the use of money?
I can't eat or drink it, if it were cut into mince
meat.”
JJljUosopl)}) for tl)c people.
TO PAINT THE SLIDERS OF MAGIC
LANTERNS.
Provide a small muller and a piece of thick
ground glass five or six inches square to grind
the colors on, also a small pallet knife and a
few bottles to put the colors in. For a red
color get a little scarlet lake, and for blue a
little Prussian blue. For green use purified
verdigris ground with a quarter of its bulk of
gamboge, and for brown use burnt umber,
and for black, burnt sienna black. These are
the only colors that are truly transparent and
fit lor painting sliders. Having all these col
ors ready, grind them in the balsam of fir mix
ed with half its bulk of turpentine; mastic
varnish will do very well, but the balsam is
the most beautiful. To paint the glass black
round the painting, dissolve asphaltum in tur
pentine and mix with lampblack. When the
colors are all ground they must be putin sep
arate bottles and sealed, and when they
are to be used, a little bit is taken out at once
on a piece of glass, just as much as is needed
at once, as it quickly dries. If the color is
too thick it must be diluted with turpentine.
To paint the sliders, the subject must be de
signed on paper and the paper put under the
glass and the glass painted above it according
to the design on the paper underneath.
[Scientific American.
PHILOSOPHICAL FACTS.
The change of properties which takes place
when chemical attraction acts, is not confined
to metals, but is a general result in every case
where different bodies are brought into this
state of combination or chemical union. Fre
quently we find that the properties of each
body are totally changed; and that substances
from being energetic and violent in their na
ture, become inert and harmless, and vice
versa. For instance that useful and agreeable
substance, culinary salt, which is not only
harmless hut wholsome, and absolutely neces
sary to the well being of man, is composed of
two formidable ingredients, either of which
taken into the stomach proves fatal to life ;
one of these is a metal, and the other an air—
the former is called sodium, the later chlorine.
When presented to each other, the violence
of their nature is manifested by their immedi
ately bursting out into flame, and instantly
they are both deprived of their virulence. —
Can anything be more striking than the
change of properties in this case; and who
could have supposed that culinary salt is com
posed of a metal united to an air ?
ATMOSPHERIC CHURN.
The St. Louis papers allude to anew and
singular churn, lately patented, and now ex
hibiting in that city. Blitter is made by it
out of fresh milk, and without the use of wa
ter. The principie consists in the introduc
tion, by means of exceedingly simple machine
ry. of the atmospheric air into the body of
milk. The air, by its own action, produces
the separation of the milk from the butter.—
The machinery is very simple and the princi
ple undeniable, and the operation of churning
can hardly be said to be labor at all. By this
machine, an ordinary churning, it is said, can
be made by a child of four years of age, and
that too without waiting for the cream to rise
or the milk to sour. Butter is made in fif
teen minutes from fresh milk, and the cost of
the churn is not more than that of an ordinary
one. It is an Illinois invention and has cer
tainly the priority of the Irish Bishop's notic
ed a short time since in our coin ms. It is
we believe constructed on the principle of the
bellows, and the inventor is making his for
tune out of it. We have seen butter made
by the common rotary paddle churn in fifteen
minutes, but never from fresh milk.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTE.
The length of the Smithsonian Institute is
four hundred and fifty feet. Its breadth at
towers is one hundred and fifty feet : its
geneial breadth fifty-four feet. The East
ern wing will first be finished and put in ord
er for the occupation of the secretary and for
the immediate purpose of the board. When
finished it will indeed be a very unique and
beautiful edifice, worthy of the dignithy of
antiquity, and of the enlightened liberality
of its founder. If there be no simplicity in
the architecture, it is to be hoped that valu
abel quality wall be studied in all the practical
arrangements of the establishment. We hear
that Prof. Henry has fully resigned his office
in Princeton College, and is now entirely de
voted to the w'ork.
-foreign Correspondence.
For the Southem'Literary Gazette.
LONDON LETTERS. —No. 7.
London, June 30, 1848.
My dear R.: In this age of great events it
requires something extraordinary to excite
the public mind to any considerable degree
of interest. That something luis transpired
to accomplish this, you would not doubt if
you had been in this great Babel the three
past days. In the club and coffee houses, in
the parks and in the streets you might have
seen eager groups discussing with animated
looks and tones the startling, nay the thrill
ing intelligence which has reached us of an
insurrection in Paris, an insurrection so aw
ful in its character and in its consequences
that men stand aghast, and wonder if this be
indeed the nineteenth century, and Europe
the most enlightened quarter of the globe!
This insurrection in its fearful details of
death and terror, of desperate bravery and
savage cruelty, of ruthless passions and wild
frenzy, eclipses any intestine outbreak in the
annals of history. It stands alone and un
paralleled, a fearful and unmistakeable mon
ument of anarchy. How shall I begin my
narrative, so vast is its extent, so aggravated
its details !
The city of Paris, from the 22dto the 26th
instant was a scene of the wildest confusion,
battle and slaughter. During this period a
conflict was sustained between perhaps 50,-
000 insurgents, and the forces of the govern
ment numbering in all 300,000. On Thurs
day night, yesterday week, the first barricades
were raised by the mob, and on the next day
the conflict commenced between the rebels
and the National Guards. I ought perhaps
to have stated that a deputation of workmen
called on M. Marie for a redress of grievan
ces, and by some misconception considered
themselves insulted by him in calling them
slaves. This it is said was the spark that
set fire to a mighty magazine of conspiracy
and revolt, signalized in fts explosion by the
most revolting atrocity of which the mind can
conceive.
By Friday night the insurgents had pos
sessed themselves of a very considerable
portion of the city on both sides the Seine,
their medium of communication being the
bridge of St. Michel. They held the church
of St. Gervais, and Notre Dame, and extend
ed over very important parts of Paris, but
f will not weary your readers with details of
their position. It was not until Saturday
that the carnage really commenced. Early
in the day the National Assembly declared
the city in a state of seige. Lamartine had
on the previous day rode through the streets
with a staff of officers to quell if possible the
riot, but in vain. Gen. Cavaignac assumed
the executivepporerw r er and commanded the
troops. All day the conflict was raging, and
especially on the south side of the river.
Eye witnesses describe the scene as one of
unmingled horror. The roar of artillery', the
sharp rattling of musquetry, the savage shouts
of an infuriated mob, the screams of women
and children and the tolling of bells oppress
ed the air with doleful sounds.
Night only increased the universal h#rk>r.
Thousands of troops poured in from tyfiHbus
regions and desperate charges by
horse and foot, to dislodge the
their positions, which, however,
ently impregnable.
rebels raised the Mb;'” and a
round it with ’too
clearly the^^rfde 1 a
mong
Guar& i ll
Os PWSWitch&tie'tt 1 WeUbf the' 7 irfVgents
He wak Annan of dh*i#£tfrHi
ed ability—the translator of the WWelly
NovG¥/° <
”V)'rl Sunday the terrible carnage continued
especially within the Foubourg St. Antoine, to
85