Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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