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90 the old serpent, when he would disguise him self as an angel of light, retains his slough. The pride of the well-gloved exquisite who scowls at the weather-chapped hands of hu manity in rags, is a becoming pride, if he may he catechum<MO his own conceit. The law yer’s endured Bob’s naked feet through half the frosty season, when sudden ’ ly his becoming pride suggested that a naked footed urchin was not a tilting Mercury. “Robert Racket!” said the lawyer, one morning, coming into the office fresh from his private dwelling, with extremities that the frost had sharply bitten through well-season ed Wellingtons; “Robert Racket, where are your boots ?” “Boots, Sir?” echoed Bob, tremblingly.— As if he, who had no shoes, could be guilty of boots. “Boots or shoes?” thundered the lawyer, j Shoes, if you will.” “Or slippers?” suggested a clerk mildly. “Shoes, Sir? I ain’t got any,” answered Bob, shaking at the confession of so great a j turpitude. “No?” said the lawyer, retreating a step backwards. “Not got any? Sparrow (to a clerk) this hoy has a mother, a woman, Spar row, who is bound by the laws of nature to have a heart, and she lets this boy go about pi this Russian weather without shoes.” The clerk addressed as Sparrow looked at the offending feet, and the other clerks looked at them. Poor feet they were, blotched with chilblains, red with the incessant torture of the cold. Very poor, very offending, abso lutely wicked feet. “You may go, Sir,” said the law r yer. “You may go. Pay him his threepence, Sparrow. He hasn’t earned it, to be sure ; but w r e will not stop it. He wishes to earn it, no doubt, and we will take the will for the deed. When you have got shoes, Racket, you may come again. Good bye. And the quotidian threepence was cut off. And still the heavens sent forth a fiercer frost. Fiercer and fiercer. God be with the poor. Longer days, shorter nights. February month. The sun, speeding towards the Spring sols tice. And still frost, frost, frost, biting at the very core of life in thinly clad humanity.— Heaven, in its mercy, send few such Febru aries in a century. Blessings be upon thy head, kind lady. Seraph peace everlastingly dwell in thy breast, for looking out of thy window on that hitter February morning, and giving shoes to that poor child, not half the age of Bob Racket, which drew thy attention to its unshod feet, and heels so deeply kibed. And the benediction of saints make thy white locks shine sunbright in the Eternities, thou aged minister of the word, who, meeting the poor barefooted girl in the street, went with her to a shoe-shop, and saw her feet en cased in warm, serviceable boots, paying for them out of thy own purse. But Bob Racket got no shoes. Come, mother, tell us that story again, about uncle Taddy,” said Bob one evening to his mother. The frost v r as not broken up, but was more severe than ever. “That story about uncle Jim, brave uncle Jim.” “ Story, Bob, it ain’t a story,” replied the mother. a IVs true.” “ Yes, I know r it is—all’s one —it’s as good as a story, I’m sure.” “Bless the boy, you’ve heard it so often.” “Do tell it, mother,” said Bob’s sister Kitty. “Do mother,” said little Charley. “ Please, mother,” urged lesser Tommy. “ Oh, do, mother,” said Alary, least of all except Harry and the baby, who were too little to express any wish upon the subject. “ This is it, then,” said the good woman, pleased herself to please her children. “It was where the great whales are.” “ But are there great whales ?” asked Kit . “Ain’t there just?” cried Bob. “Y'ou don’t know, how should you ?” “It was where the great whales are; and your uncle was— But we must relate the story, a poor sort of story, in our own way. The uncle was a brother to Bob's mother, and went to sea in his sixteenth year. Allured by a narrative of a whaling expedition, he subsequently joined a crew, destined for that fishery off the coast of Greenland. Jim Taddy, brave Jim. Whose heart warmed not as he read in the newspapers of the dive Jim had down into the deep, half frozen sea, where iceberg jos tled with iceberg, and the polar air burnt so frore that the sailors became mutinous? Fa thoms deep—Bob’s mother exaggerated a lit tle in her enthusiasm—among the ice he went, plunging and bubbling down, to bring up a gentleman who had joined the expedition Irom the love of adventure, and had fallen overboard while contemplating the lustrous hues which the setting suu reflected fro® the § ® ©lf SIS IB i£l iL 11 V H®A IS ¥ sky palaces of those extreme latitudes upon the thousand peaks and pinnacles of ice.— Brave Jim Taddy, brave uncle Jim! Avery poor story. But Bob forgot his frozen feet, as he imagined the gurgling wa ters closing around his uncle, cleaving the sea where the great whales are. “Uncle Jim’s rich, ain’t he, mother?” ask ed Bob. “If he’s alive, dear; the gentleman made him rich.” “I wonder, if he knew that I had no shoes, whether he w r ould give me any?” Bob’s mother said she didn’t know, for money didn’t soften hearts; and people who had it, w ere loth to part with it. But, she added, the heart of James Taddy must be greatly changed—greatly changed, indeed, if he wasn’t the kindest mortal breathing. — Brother of lier’s he was, and she had a right to speak what was in her mind. “I’m bound,” she concluded, “he would give you a pair of shoes, Bob, and many of ’em.” Though why it was, he had never found her out —had never written to her, she couldn’t tell. He didn’t know her name, she was aware of that, nor where she lived, and had never seen her since she was married. Per haps supposed her dead; but he could use his pen like a schoolmaster, and he might have written. Kitty suggested that there might be a letter lying at the post-office; but the good mother shook her head, and said the postman would have delivered it, “ for he knows where I live,” she remarked, “If uncle Jim don’t.” Bob couldn't keep away from the office, though he was no longer connected with it. Anew boy had taken his place, and dusted, and swept, and went on menial errands. Well shod was the new boy in bran new Bluchers. Very lank he was; Bob wondered whether he was tall enough to reach the cobwebs. One day—the frost wasn’t broken up ; the Thames, above the bridge, presented one field of ice—as Bob was lingering about the office door, Sparrow, the clerk, emerged from the lugubrious threshold. Intent upon procuring a chop was Sparrow, and a pint bottle of Guinness’s stout. Sparrow rejoiced in Guin ness. But, encountering Bob, who was stand ing with the old shoeless, offending feet, up on the curbstone of the pavement, ne became oblivious of chop and porter, and, pouncing upon the discarded Mercury, bore him bodily into the lawyer’s presence. “Here he is, Sir,” said Sparrow,'out of , breath. “ Here is young Racket.” Young Racket was within a small trifle of swooning; for he remembered a stray pen, worn to the stump, which, instead of sweeping into the dust hole, he had, upon one occasion, picked up and carried home, with fell intent of teaching himself to write therewith. “Oh, here he is,” said the lawyer. “’Pon my word, Sparrow, I’m greatly obliged to you. How do you do, Racket? I’m glad to see you. Have you procured any shoes yet? I see you have not. Sparrow, do me a fur ther service. Here are three half-crowns. — Take him to the nearest shoe-shop, and fit him.” “ Certainly, Sir.—With Bluchers, Sir ?” said Sparrow. “ Yes, with Bluchers—warm and comfort ing to the ankles, Sparrow. See that the leather is seasoned and mollient. Will you have the goodness?” “ And bring him back, Sir, ?” asked the clerk. “Os course. Are you hungry, Racket?” i Yes—ah, I thought so. Take him to an eat ing-house, Sparrow, here is a fourth half crown. Make him as plump as you can. I j should suggest roast beef—but let him have what he fancies. He may finish with plum j pudding.” And the bewildered Bob —his mystification i momently increasing—was hurried away to be shod with Bluchers, and to eat what he fancied—terminating with plum-pudding. “ I dare say now you are preciously aston ished, ain’t you youngster ?” asked Air. Spar row, w hen the Bluchers had been secured to Bob’s feet (as if they w T ere never to come off again,) and the second plate of roast beef w T as in rapid course of evanishment. “Yes, please, Sir. It is ” “It is, what?” i “Funny, Sir; ain’t it?” “ Funny, by Jove ! I should think it funny to have an uncle come home from sea, and get a lawyer to find me out, and give me ten thousand pounds,” said Mr. Sparrow, wink ing with great pleasantry. “I should just think it was funny. How do the Bluchers ! feel, Racket?” I “ Comfortable, Sir—uncommon—please, Sir, they pinches a little,” replied Bob, “ I have : an uncle, Sir, as is gone to sea.” “ Didn’t I say so? —and come home again, wuth instructions to our governor—bless my soul! here he is—How do you do, Mr. Tad- dy? Your nephew, Sir; —Racket, my boy, your uncle.” None other. Brave Jim Taddy, who came into the eating-house, as any stranger might. When they got home (and Air. Sparrow, after first returning to apprise the lawyer, went home with them, to introduce, as he said, the brother to the sister,) and when the first greetings were over, Brave Jim told how though he had oftQn intended it, he never could get to England before, but was buised in making money, that his sister, —or, if she were married, as was most likely, her child ren, as well as herself, should inherit little fortunes. —How, on arriving in London, he had sought out a lawyer to set inquiry on foot, and, after weeks had passed, the lawyer having gained the necessary clue, had told him only on that morning, that he believed, before the dusk, sister, and nieces, and neph ews, would all be found. To see the tears and embraces. Air. Sparrow was not an ef feminate man, but he fairly owned that he couldn’t stand it, and bade them, if they would not burst his heart, to desist. “It's very kind of you —very kind, indeed, Jim,” said Bob’s mother, “ to come home from catching those great whales, and give me and my dear fatherless children so much money.” “ Ten thousand pounds,” interrupted Mr. Sparrow. “But why—didn’t you write me a letter— only one—to tell me all about you, this long while ?” “My dear sister,” replied Brave Jim, “how could I? I didn’t know your name, if you were married, or where you were to be found —How could I write then ?” . “Oh, you might have written,” persisted the good woman; “If you didn,t know what my name was, and where I lived, the postman did, and he would have brought the letter.” Mr. Sparrow laughed, and brave Jim laugh ed, and Bob’s mother, not knowing the rea son of their mirth, laughed also. Our story ends here. Shoes—shoes for Bob Racket, and for Bob’s brothers and sisters, all their lives. Still, why are there not Shoe Charities ? jSjoine (Eorresponkme. For the Southern Literary Gazette. NEW-YORK LETTERS.—NO. 12. Rathbun’s Hotel, New-York, ) July 19th, 1848. J My Dear Sir , —One of my friends who claims to be a funny man, was relating to me the other day, a little piece of drollery which he perpetrated at the late Commence ment of our University. It was the anniver sary of one of the Societies. The audience had assembled, and among them a venerable gentleman armed with an ear-trumpet, whom my waggish friend very courteously informed, seeing him take a seat in the body of the chapel, that “ the music sat up stairs .” And “pray,” I asked, “what response did the gen tleman make to your polite suggestion ?” “Oh!” returned the humorist, “simply that it was no matter, since he only played by ear!” The same dreadful individual, (the wag, I mean.) opposed the nomination as member of a society to which he belonged, of a gentle man named Officer, although the candidate was not only an exceedingly desirable per son, but one of the wag’s most highly es teemed friends. When called upon for an ex planation of his singular opposition, he spoke of the extreme painfulness of the task which his duty imperatively demanded of him to perform; of the intense satisfaction it would give him to welcome the nominee as a fellow of the body, etc., but that it was constitution ally impossible.” “ And pray, how so ?” was the general and anxious query. “Because, gentlemen,” replied he, “our constitution pro vides for only four officers—the President and so on, with which we are already duly sup plied !” But I will repeat no more of his fa cetia, lest I should seem to be encouraging him in his wickedness. While I was penning my last sheet, some deeply interesting scenes were passing around me, of which a want of time then prevented my speaking. First, the impressive funeral services of the deceased officers of the New York regiment of Volunteers in Mexico.— Lieut. Col. Baxter and others, and Mr. Forbes, the messenger despatched to New Orleans by our city authorities, to convey the remains of the deceased to New York, but who died of the yellow fever in the discharge of his du ties, and accompanied the unfortunate victims hither, like them only in shroud and pall. During the day the flags were hung at half mast,where they drooped in the air most mourn fully. Minute guns were fired and church bells were tolled, while the long and imposing procession of troops and citizens, in carriages and on foot, moved slowly to the sad strains of funeral music. When the cortege reached the Park, the bodies of the patriot dead were placed, each coffin (which had been borne up on a separate hearse,) on different platforms, in front of the City Hall. One of the Rever end Clergy present, then offered up an im pressive prayer, after which Air. John Van Buren delivered an eloquent oration upon the lives and characters of the deceased, and the circumstances of their fall. The Sacred Mu sic Society then sung an ode written for the occasion, by the poet of the day, General George P. Alorris. After the benediction, the remains were delivered over to the respective families and friends. The whole scene was deeply impressive and affecting. Each heart was “ in the coffin there with Caesar!” Some thirty thousand persons were prebent; among them the surviving members of the company, who had returned to the city. They bore their flag, which they had carried unsoiled to Alexico, but had brought back tattered and worn upon the bloody field. On the follow ing day the sad scene closed, with the inter ment of the bodies on the Greenwood Ceme tary. In the very midst of the ceremonies of Wednesday, the city was astounded with the terrible intelligence of the blpody insurrection in Paris. Men read the story with a shudder, and grieved for the dire necessity of such aw ful deeds, while they confessed, when consid ering the ends attained, that it w T as well. — What a price to pay for order and peace ? and yet, if needed, it must be doubled and trebled, until those reckless and mad men are subdued, and the mob of Paris annihilated. Is not the event of this great and terrible scene one of the happiest which could have trans pired for the true inteiests of the new Repub lic ? Alany thousands of lives, to be sure, have been sacrificed, but who can say how much larger a number the immolation has not saved ? I believe that I have not yet supplied you with a single “ horrible accident,” which must be quite a slight to a certain portion of the readers of any journal. Three months passed in my correspondence, and not the smallest thing murdered! Mille pardons! my dear sir. Allow me only the benefit of the prov erb, “better late than never,” and I will “har row up your soul,” with the bare mention of the assassination, last week, of a young man named Bremond, of a firm of jewellers in Nas sau street, where the deed transpired. The second of the two errant leopards, (not tigers, as I baptized them in my last,) has been found and killed. The circumstances of the discovery of the nervous animal, who was bent, despite the proverb upon changing his spots, are somewhat amusing. He had gained the roof of a house in the upper part of the city, and the patting of his feet attract ted the attention of the family. One of the members passed through the trap-door, to in quire into the matter, and was rather sur prised at the glaring eyes wffiich met his gaze; and very considerably astonished when the creature made a spring at him, from which he saved himself only by a wise and speedy re treat. The leopard then proceeded down the chimney, and took quiet possession of a neigh boring and tenantless building. This adven ture gave rise among the police, to the report that robbers had entered the house. It was enquired into, the character of the intruder as certained, assistance gained, and the poor leo pard demolished. The “Express” consents that the canine and porcine classes of the community shall have the enjoyment of the