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I told them that, at the very worst, if I
should be sent abroad, there was no reason
why I should not return again ; but they both
declared, they never did, and never would
believe in those “ Returns of the Killed and
Wounded/’
The discussion was in this stage when it
was interrupted by another loud single knock
at the door, a report equal in its effects on us
to that of the memorable cannon-shot at
Brussels; and before we could recover our
selves, a strapping Sergeant entered the par
lour with a huge bow, or rather rain-bow, of
party-coloured ribbons in his cap. He came,
he said, to offer a substitute for me; but I
was prevented from reply by the indignant
females asking him in the same breath,
Who and what did he think could be a
substitute for a son and a husband V’
The poor Serjeant looked foolish enough at
this turn; but he was still more abashed
when the two anxious Ladies began to cross
examine him on the length of his services
abroad, and the number of his wounds, the
campaigns of the Militia-man having been
confined doubtless to Hounslow, and his bod
ily marks militant to the three stripes on his
sleeve. Parrying these awkward questions
he endeavoured to prevail upon me to see the
proposed proxy, a fine young fellow, he as
sured me, of unusual stature; but I told him
it was quite an indifferent point with me
whether he was 6-feet-2 or 2-feet-6, in short
whether he was as tall as the flag, or “ under
ihe standard.”
The truth is. I reflected that it was a time
of profound peace, that a civil war, or an in
vasion, was very unlikely ; and as for an
occasional drill, that I could make shift,
like Lavater, to light-about-face.
Accordingly I declined seeing the substi
tute, and dismissed the Sergeant with a note
:o the War-Secretary to this purport: —
** That I considered myself drawn ; and ex
pected therefore to be well quarter'd. That,
under the circumstances of the country, it
would probably be unnecessary for militia
men “to be mustarded : ” but that if his
Majesty did “ call me out,” 1 hoped I should
•'give him satisfaction .”
The females were far from being pleased
with this billet. They talked a great deal of
.moral suicide, wilful murder, and seeking
ihe bubble reputation in the cannon’s mouth;
out I shall ever think that I took the proper
course, for, after the lapse of a few hours,
two more of the General’s red-coats, or Gen
eral postmen, brought me a large packet
sealed with the War-office Seal, and super
scribed “Henry Hardinge;,” by which I was
officially absolved from serving on Horse, or
on Foot, or on both together, then and there
after.
And why, T know not —unless his Majes
:y doubted the handsomeness of discharging
me in particular, without letting off the
rest; —but so it was, that in a short time af
terwards there issued a proclamation, by
which the services of all militia-men were for
‘he present dispensed with, —and we were
est to pursue our several avocations, —of
course, all the lighter in our spirits for being
disembodied.
A BRACE OF LOVE-LETTERS.
[A disconsolate Husband to his Wife in the
Country .]
“My Dear Wife: In silence and alone,
(boys, don’t make such a racket there, if you
please, while I’m writing!) in the stillness of
rnv quiet chamber, (Ha: ha ! oho! good !
what’s that ‘l) I sit down to write a few lines
to you. (You know how to dress salad — you
do!) Although I feel the pang of separation
(fill up!—so; thank you;) from your dear self
at this moment, yet it is a pleasing reflection to
.Know (what’sthe state ot the game now ?) that
a few short days will enable me to be again
with you (a segar Joe) and once more press
your gentle hand in mine . (Oh! I can’t take
a hand now.) Again I shall leave this city,
tiresome indeed during yonr absence, (‘We
wont go home till morning!’—oh, keep still,
will you ?) and every hour of the interval will
be counted (capital story that, Billy!) with
anxious solicitude by me. As I sit here alone
a the stillness of the night (‘Come, give us a
song!’ Tcan’t, ’pon my word.’ ‘Oh do!)
deluded by myself, my mind is filled with ten
der recollections, and a lowness of spirits
comes over me, (‘Gaily still the moments roll!’)
which l endeavor, (‘ While I quaff the flow
bowl,’) in vain (‘ Care can can rtever
“each the soul!’) to shake (That deeply drinks
wine!’) off. I now lay down my pen
(‘ Bravo! bravo!) for fatigue (for one moment,
D °ys,) overpowers me. Adieu, my dear wife
in a minute ; duty before pleasure ;) and be
neve me (I’m with you now, boys,) your af
fectionate husband, .
[Reply.]
My Dear Hubby:—l received your affec
§®iSlf [2 ili jil MlFiilßiftiE'tT ©A&Uif If & ♦
tionate letter yesterday. (Do! —don’t—be
quiet!) and it was truly welcome, (be still !
you shan't squeeze my hand) I assure you.
You have no idea how lonesome (there, you
have made me make a great blot!) I feel when
I am separated (will you?) from you; but the
assurance that I shall see you on Saturday
(if you attempt such a thing!) is a great com
fort. I look forward to that day with so
much pleasure (Will! if you kiss me again,
I’ll write to Charles!) for you know it is de
lightful (there, you’ve broken my bracelet!)
delightful (you’ve made me write delightful
twice) to live in hopes. (It’s to late to take
a ride, is’nt it ?) I could not but feel pity for
you when you spoke of being “ alone (upon
ray word, Mr. Impudence that’s three!) in the
stillness of your chamber .” It seemed as if I
could see you, my dear Hubby, (a-c-h! do be
have, will you ?) as you were writing to your
faithful little wife. I too am “ alone ” (I’m
telling a great story now!) and thinking of
the days that still intervene between (how
becomingly your collar’s turned down) now
and Saturday. (Notanother ofithe a-c-h!)
The country looks beautiful, (it would be nice
to take a short ride to the beach) but I never
enjoy it while you are absent. (I declare,
there are the horses at the door) I have but a
few minutes to conclude in, (tell Jane to bring
my bonnet) as the mail closes (and my skirt)
in a few minutes. Adieu, my dear (well I’m
glad you have stuck yourself with a pin !)
Hubby! “Faithfully yours,
“ Mary.”
Knickerbocker.]
©nr 330 ml of Jluncl).
PUNCH’S BIRTH DAY ODE TO HIMSELF.
I.
Amid the crash of toppling crowns,
The crack of dynasties,
And thunder of bombarded towns,
Far booming o’er the seas,
While Europe with an earthquake shock,
Is reeling to and fro,
John Bull sits calmly on his rock,
Begirt with Ocean’s flow,
Watching the storm with quiet survey,
He being safe ashore ;
And whilst abroad all things are topsy-turvy,
He sees his Queen upon her throne,
His Lords and Commons holding still their own,
And some of them, perhaps, a little more.
n.
Oh, pride ! our Institutions —
The old, the wise, the free —
In a world of revolutions
Still flourishing to see !
To view our own majestic native Oak,
Whilst other trees of Liberty decay,
Still whole and sound from stem to spray,
Not in the least inclined to droop ;
Indeed, without a joke,
This sight should make each Briton cock-a-hoop!
in.
But of our Constitution
There’s one peculiar boast,
Its finest Institution —
That is to say, almost —
With warmest exultation,
And self-congratulation,
With admiration utterly unbounded,
Should every mother’s son
Regard that Institution, founded
In Eighteen Forty-one!
Yes, Punch, for ever vernal,
By strife and storms unshaken,
Thy celebrated Journal
The proudest feelings must awaken
In every patriotic breast
That throbs beneath a British vest.
IV.
Lo, Punch, whose Fifteenth Volume now appears,
Begins the eigth of his immortal years;
Exhaustless his outpourings as the sea,
And also quite as shiny,
With laughs innumerable, as the “ briny.”
Th us .'Eschylus, you know,
Describes the Ocean’s glow,
When its countless ripples glitter
In a universal titter,
A tremendous Ha, ha, he!
Ho, ho, ho!
v.
This is the happy day of Punch’s birth,
And that is why he crows,
And his own trumpet blows
In plenitude of mirth,
lie makes his fresh appearance,
Intent, with perseverance,
To follow out the good Horatian rule
With which he first began :
That is, in season still to play the fool,
Which to do well,
And wear with decent grace the cap and bell,
Takes a wise man.
Thus, being now septennial,
Picnch trusts to be perennial;
To him Oblivion’s trunk and dusty shelf
Suggest no fears.
He only hopes his readers —like himself—
May live a thousand years.
OLD IRON FOR SALE.
What ever will become of the Iron Crown
of Lombardy ? It has fitted many heads in
its time; but now it is without a single head
to fit. We believe the Railway King has
sent in a tender for it. The Iron is certainly
in his line more than any other king’s. We
can imagine how uneasy the poor Emperor
of Austria’s head must have felt under such
a heavy load. The report is, however, that
the crown no longer exists—that it was bro
ken up long ago, to enable Radetski to make
a rod of iron of it. The heaviness of his rule
therefore, is easily accounted for, and the peo
ple cannot be blamed for no longer bearing it.
How would the English like an Iron Ruler
over their heads ?
Newspaper Analects.
THE DECEPTIONS PRACTISED BY THE
ANCIENTS.
When the tyrants of antiquity were unable
or unwilling to found their sovereignty on the
affections or the interests of their people, they
sought to entrench themselves in the strong
holds of supernatural influence, and to rule
with the delegated authority of Heaven. The
prince, the priest, and the sage were leagued
in a dark conspiracy to deceive and enslave
their species; and man who refused his sub
mission to a being like himself, became
the obedient slave of a spiritual despotism,
and willingly bound himself in chains which
seemed to have been forged by the gods.—
This system of imposture was greatly favor
ed by the ignorance of those early ages. An
acquaintance with the motions of the heaven
ly bodies, and the variations in the state of
the atmosphere, enabled its possessor to pre
dict astronomical and meteorological pheno
mena with a frequency and accuracy which
could not fail to invest him with a divine char
acter.
The science of Acoustics furnished the an
cient sorcerers with some of their best decep
tions. The imitation of thunder in their sub
terranean temples could not fail to indicate
the presence of a supernatural agent. The
golden Virgins, w T hose ravishing voices re
sounded through the temple of Delphos—the
stone from the river Pactolus, whose trumpet
notes scared the robber from the treasure it
guarded —the speaking head, which uttered
its oracular responses at Lesbos, and the vo
cal statue of Memnon, which began at the
break of day to accost the rising sun, were
all deceptions derived from science, and from
a diligent observation of the phenomena of
nature. The principles of Hydrostatics were
equally available in the work of deception.—
The marvellous fountain which Pliny des
cribes in the island of Andross, as discharg
ing wine for seven days, and water during
the rest of the year—the spring of oil, which
broke out in Rome to welcome the return of
Augustus from the Sicilian War —the three
empty urns which filled themselves with wine
at the annual feast of Bacchus in the city of
Elis—the glass tomb ot Belus which was
full of oil, and which, when once emptied by
Xerxes, could not again be filled—the weep
ing statues, and the perpetual lamps of the
ancients, were all the obvious effects of the
equilibrium and pressure of fluids.
Al.hough we have no direct evidence that
the philosophers of antiquity were skilled in
Mechanics, yet there are indications of their
knowledge by no means equivocal in the
erection of the Egyptian obelisks, and in the
transportation of huge masses of stone, and
their subsequent elevation to great heights in
their temples. When, in some of the infam
ous mysteries of ancient Rome, the unfortu
nate victims were carried off by the gods, there
is reason to believe that they were hurried
away by the power of machinery ; and when
Apollonius, conducted by the Indian sages to
the temple of their god, felt the earth rising
and falling beneath his feet, like the agitated
sea, he was no doubt placed upon a moving
floor, capable of imitating the heaving of the
waves. The rapid descent of those who con
sulted the oracle in the cave of Trophonius —
the moving tripods which Apollonius saw in
the Indian temples —the walking statues at
Anti 'm, and in the temple of Hieropolis —and
the wooden pigeon of Archytas, are speci
mens of the mechanical resources of the an
cient magi.— Brewster's Letters on Natural
Magic.
Cure for Lockjaw. —A correspondent of
the Baltimore Sun says that when any one
runs a nail or any sharp iron in any part of
their frame, take a common smoke pipe, fill it
with tobacco, light it well, then take a thin
cloth or silk handkerchief, place it over the
bowl of the pipe and blow the smoke through
the stem into the wound —hold the stem close,
to carry the hot smoke into the wound. Two
or three pipes full will be sufficient to set the
wound discharging. He has tried it on him
self and five others, and found it to give im
mediate relief. If the wound has been some
days standing it will open it again, if the to
bacco is good.
THE ORANGE-GROVES OF MEXICO.
The Orange-trees were covered with their
golden fruit and fragrant blossoms; the for
est-trees, bending over, formed a natural arch,
which the sun could not pierce. We laid
ourselves down on the soft grass, contrasting
this day with the preceding. The air was
soft and balmy, and actually heavy with the
fragrance of the orange-blossom and starry
jasmine. All around the orchard ran streams
of the most delicious clear waters, trickling
withsw r eet music, and now and then a little
cardinal, like a bright red ruby, would perch
upon the trees. We pulled bouquets of or
ange-blossom, jasmine, lilies, dark red roses,
and lemon leaves, and wished we could have
transported them to you, to those lands where
winter is now wrapping the world in his
winding-sheet. The gardener or coffee-plan
ter —such a gardener!—Don Juan by name,
with an immense black beard, Mexican hat,
and military sash of crimson silk, came to of
fer us some orangeade ; and having sent to
the house for sugar and tumblers, pulled the
oranges from the trees, and drew the water
from a clear tank overshaded by blossoming
branches, and cold as though it had been iced.
There certainly is no tree more beautiful than
the orange, with its golden fruit, shining green
leaves, and lovely wffiile blossom with so de
licious a fragrance. We felt this morning as
if Altacamulco was an earthly paradise. But
when the moon rose, serenely and without a
cloud, and a soft breeze, fragrant with orange
blossoms, blew gently over the trees, 1 felt as
if we could have rode on forever, without fa
tigue, and in a state of the most perfect enjoy
ment. It was hard to say whether the first
soft breath of morning, or the languishing and
yet more fragrrnt airs of evening, and more
enchanting. —Madame Calderon de la Barca
—1 ■ i
FAMILIES OF LITERARY MEN.
Men of genius, says a speculative genius
in the Quarterly Review, seldom leave more
than “a brief progeny behind them. With
the exception of Surry and Spencer, we are
not aware of any great English author of at
all remote date, from whose body any living
person claims to be descended. There is no
other real English poet prior to the middle of
the eighteenth century, and we believe no
great author of any sort, except Clarendon
and Shaftsbury, of whose blood w r e have any
inheritance amongst us. Chaucer’s only
son died childless; Shakespeare’s line expired
in his daughter’s only daughter. The grand
daughter of Milton was the last of his blood.
Newton, Locke, Pope, Swift, Arbuthnot,
Hume, Gibbon, Cowper, Gray, Walpole, and
Cavendish, never married.” Yet for all this,
no theory can be formed from the facts set
forth, as many great men have transmitted
through successive ages a numerous posterity,
while many men destitute of either talent or
genius have left no family tree behind them.
MANUFACTURE OF NEEDLES.
Needles go through a number of operations
before they are complete. Some commence
with steel wire hardened, others harden ii af
terwards. The w T ire is first reeled into a coil
which is cut apart in two places with shears,
and then drawn a second time ; after which it
is cut into lengths, just sufficient for two
needles in one piece. These pieces are then
straightened by rolling a bundle of them to
gether upon a hardened surface, being after
ward sharpened upon a revolving grindstone.
The pieces are now cut in two the middle
the blunt end flattened with a hammer prepar
atory for the eye, which is afterward pierced
by machinery. They are then polished by
plunging them into a bath of melted metal,
and immediately after into cold water; then
thrown into a wabbler —a barrel rapidly
revolving upon an axis not placed in the cen
tre —with emery and putty made of the oxide
of tin, by which they are burnished. They
are then taken out and separated by a win
nowing apparatus, and put in papers for sale
—the quantity not being counted, but regula
ted by weight. The eye was formerly pier
ced by children, who became so expert, that
with one blow of a punch they would fre
quently pierce a hole through which they
would thread a hair from the head, and nand
to their visitors. There are but three manu
factories in this country, and one ot these im
ports them from Europe in a half unfinished
state and then finishes them the European
labor being less expensive.
Emba rrassment, —A gentleman meeting
one of his friends who was insolvent, express
ed great concern for his embarrassment. “You
are mistaken, sir,” “ ’tis not I, it is my cred
itors who are embarrassed.”
93