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LIFE INSURANCE.
The Philadelphia correspondent of Harker’s
Delawarian , tells the following amusing an
ecdote :
One day last week, a well-dressed, portly
gentleman, apparently from the country, en
tered one of our Life Insurance offices, and
expressed a wish to have his life insured. It
was after office hours, and the place was in
charge of a couple of clerks, who, with a
party of friends, were “making merrie.”—
Giving each other the wink, they proceeded
forthwith to “ examine” the applicant. One
of them, who styled himself the “President,”
addressed him as follow's:
President. —“ Were you ever sick V ’
Applicant. —“ Yes, sir!”
Pres. —“ How long since ?”
App. —“ Thirty-three years and a half.”
Pres. —“ What w T as your disease ?”
App. —“ The measles.”
Pi ‘es. —“ How long were you confined to
your bed?”
App-~ -“One whole night!”
Pm.—(Addressing one of his companions)
“Satisfactory on the score of health. Now,
sir, we will proceed to examine your body.
You will please to divest yourself of your
clothing.”
App. —“ Do what, sir?”
Pi ‘es. —“ In common parlance, strip your
self !”
Our hero grumbled a little, but at length
yielded, and soon presented an appearance
beating Dr. Collyer’s models all hollow’. —
The “ committee” then proceeded to test his
strength, by giving him sundry boxes and
bundles to lift. This was followed by a test
of agility, running, jumping, climbing, &c.—
The poor victim, utterly ignorant of the trick,
went through the ordeal very seriously. For
three hours the process was continued, when
the “ patient,” half dead with fatigue and
fright, was pronounced “ rejected, because he
could not jump six feet on a level.” The fel
low hurried on his clothes, and “shinned,”
having probably had enough of life insu
rance.
WHAT IS IT TO HE POLITE ?
Politeness is a trait which ever)’ one ad
mires, and which confers upon its possessor
a charm that much to pave the way of
life with success. But it is very much mis
understood. Politeness does not consist in
wearing a silk glove, and in gracefully lifting
your hat when you meet an acquaintance—it
does not consist in artificial smiles and flatter
ing speech, but in sincere and honest desires
to promote the happiness of those around you;
in the readiness to sacrifice your own “ease
and comfort to add to the enjoyment ot others.
The man who lays aside all selfishness in
regard to the happiness of others, who is
ever ready to confer favors, who speaks in
the language of kindness and conciliation,
and who studies to manifest those little at
tentions which gratify the heart, is a polite
man, though he may wear a homespun coat,
and make a very ungraceful bow. And ma
ny a fashionable, who dresses genteelly, and
enters the most crowded apartments with as
surance and ease, is a perfect compound of
rudeness and incivility. He who has a heart
flowing with kindness and good will towards
his fellow men, and who is guided in the ex
ercise of these feelings by good common
sense, is the truly polite man—and he alone.
Idleness.— “ Idleness,” said Chatham to
his son, “ I would have inscribed on the cur
tains of your bed, and the walls of your cham
ber. If you do not rise early, you can never
make any progress in anything. If you do
not set apart your hours of reading, if you
suffer yourself, or any one else, to break in
upon them, your days will slip through your
hands, unprofitable and frivolous, and really
unenjoyed by yourself. Idleness is the pa
rent of vice, and the rust that consumes our
most precious moments.”
Thimble Making.— The Journal of Com
merce says, if a lady could see the processes
through which her thimble passed, from the
solid bar of silver, to the convenient instru
ment she uses, she would be astonished.
The bar of silver is welded into a long rib
bon, which is cut into small pieces, each piece
to make the barrel of a thimble. The top is
cut out of another strip of iron or silver.—
The rim is hammered around a bar of iron 1
and soldered, and after the top is soldered in,
the whole thimble is placed on a turning lathe
and chiselled inside and outside; it is then
marked with the needle holes, by a li f tle roll- j
er pressed against it, and finally polished an and
ornamented by various instruments. Alto- !
gether, they cannot be less than twenty, and
after all, the thimble is sold at a very small
advance on the weight of the silver.
§ © nn? mg[E m kair&iaA&Y
3. Column (imttci) to Jan.
THE FRENCHMAN AT HIS ENGLISH
STUDIES.
Frenchman. Ha, my good friend, I have
met with one difficulty—one very strange
word. How you call H-o-u-g-h?
Tutor. Huff.
Frenchman. Tres bien, Huff; and Snuff
you spell S-n-o-u-g-h, ha?
Tutor. O no, no; Snuff is s-n-u-double-f.
The fact is, words in ouglt are a little irreg
ular.
Frenchman. Ah, very good! ’Tis beau‘-
ful language. H-o-u-g-h is Huff'. I will
remember; and C-o-u-g-h is Cuff. I have
one bad Cuff', ha !
Tutor. No, that is wrong. We say Kauff]
not Cuff.
Frenchman. Kauff, eh bein. Huff and
Kauff] and, pardonnez moi, how you call
D-o-u-g-h — Huff, ha ?
Tutor. No, not Duff.
Frenchman. Not Duff? Ah! oui; I un
derstand —it is Dauff] lid, ?
Tutor. No, D-o-u-g-h spells Doe.
Frenchman. Doe! It is very fine, won
derful language, it is Doe ; and T-o-u-g-h is
Toe, certainement. My beef-steak was very
Toe.
Tutor. 0 no, no; you should say Tuff.
Frenchman. Tuff? Lc Diable ! and’the
thing the farmer uses, how you call him,
P-l-o-u-g-h, Fluff? Ha! you smile; I see
Tam wrong —it is Plauff 1 . No? Ah, then
it is Ploe, like Doe ; it is a beautiful language,
ver’ fine— Ploe ?
Tutor. You are still wrong, my friend.—
It is Plow.
Frenchman. Plow! Wonderful language.
I shall understand ver’ soon. Plow, Doe,
Kauff ; and one more —H-o-u-g-h—what you
call General Taylor, Rauff and Heady ? No ?
Certainement, it is Row and Ready ?
Tutor. No! H-o-u-g-h spells fluff.
Frenchman. Ruff, ha! Let me not for
get. 11-o-u-g-h is Ruff, and B-o-u-g-h is
Buff, ha!
Tutor. No, Bow.
Frenchman. All! His ver’ simple, wonder
ful language, but 1 have had what you call
E-n-o-u-g-h ! 1m ! what you call him ?
< >
The ready wit of a true-born Irish
man, however humble, is exceeded only by
his gallantry. A few days since, says an
exchange paper, we observed a casein point.
A sudden of wind look a parasol from
the hand oi its owner, and before one had a
chance to recollect whether it would be his
etiquette to catch the parasol of a lady to
whom he had never been introduced, a lively
Emeralder dropped his hod of bricks, caught
the parachute in the midst of its EUsler gyra
tions, and presented it to the loser, with a
low how, which reminded us of poor Power.
“Faith, madam.” said he, as he did so,
“ if you were as strong as you are handsome,
it wouldn’t have got away from you.”
“Which shall I thank you for first, the
service or the compliment ?” asked the lady,
smilingly.
“ Troth, madam,” said Pat, again touching
the place where once stood the brim of what
was a beaver, “ that look of your beautiful
eye thanked me for both.” —Liverpool Met
cunj.
What are you doing with that gun
in here ?” asked an over-officious conductor
on a western road. “If you haven't travel
ed in the cars long enough to learn that there
is a baggage car expressly for such trumpe
ry, you may learn it now.”
“Don’t call this trumpery,” hiccuped the
man, who was a little the worse for travel, or
some other cause; “this is as good a rifle as
(hie) ever you saw.”
“ It may be a very good rifle,” replied the
conductor, “ but this is no place to use it.”
“What is that (hie) you've got under your
arm there, ch ?”
“ It’s an umbrella, to be sure ; why do you
ask that question ?”
“ Why, umbrellas is (hie) well enough in
their places; but if you hain’t (hie) traveled
in the cars enough lo find out that we don’t
use ’em here, you’d better find it out, now.”
The conductor sloped.
K&J*’ Mr. Wilberforce, when a candidate
for Hull, had a sister, an amiable and witty
young lady, who offered the compliment of a
new gown to each of the wives of those free
men who voted for her brother; on which
she was saluted with a cry of ‘-Miss Wil
berforce forever!” when she pleasantly ob
served, “[ thank you, gentlemen, but i can
not agree with you, for really I do not wish
to be Miss Wilberforce forever!’’
EDITOR’S DEPARTMENT.
ATHENS. SATURDAY, NOV. 25, 1848.
vailimibils oma j
The Ediiov <> ‘; he Southern Ini err ry Gazette, be
ing desirous ol‘ developing and encouraging Literary
Talent in the South, lias resolved io oiler the sum of
One Hundred Dollars, in prizes, as exhibited in
the annexed schedule:
THE FIRST PRIZE
For the best Tale of the South, . . Fifty Dollars.
THE SECOND PRIZE
For the second best Tale. . . . Twenty Dollars.
THE FIRST PRIZE
For the best Poem, Twenty Dollars,
ORA COPY (IF harper’s SPLENDID PICTORIAL UIBLE.
THE SECOND PRIZE
For the second best Poem, Ten Dollars,
All competitors must send in their MSS. before
the loth day of December ensuing, and lhoy must
come, if by post, pro-paid. They should be legibly
written on one side of a sheet only. The authors’
names musi be sent in separate scaled envelopes,
which will not be opened until the prizes have been
selected —when the successful competitors will be an
nounced. The ai. tides will be submitted to the ex
amination and decision of a Committee, composed of
several gentlemen of distinguished character, whose
names will be announced in due time. The award
of prizes may be expected to be made known in the
last number for thcpvcsonl year, and the publication
of ibe First Prize Tale will be commenced with the
Now Year.
The articles offered in competition will become
the property of the Editor, and those which are
deemed wo; chy will. ppear in the Gazette.
AH communications relating to the prizes must be
addressed, post-paid, to the Editor.
COMMITTEE OF AWARD.
The following gentlemen have kindly consented
to act as Judges upon the articles offered in compe
tition for the above prizes:
Professor JAMES P. WADDELL,
Dr HENRY HULL,
JAMES AY. HARRIS, Elq.
Winter Evenings.
The chill breath of the frost-king has succeeded
to the balmy airs of Autumn. The fruits of the
earth, bountiful and precious, have been duly gar
nered; and to hundreds of our readers there has
•arrived a season of comparative rest from active
toil a season highly favorable to the improvement
oi the mind. It is n<>t, however, of winter days that
we are about to discourse, but rather of winter
nights. It is true, there is r.o lack of poetry in the
former subject, with which to adorn an essay; for,
despite the gloom that is connected with our ideas
of winter, it is a most picturesque season—and not
half appreciated by the race of poets —as a theme for
imagination and song. As Braiucrd beautifully
says: .
“ The dead leaves strew the forest walk,
r And withere l are the pale wild flowers;
The frost hangs blaek'ning on the stalk—
The dew-drops fall in frozen showers
but, notwithstanding this lamentation, every feature
of the scene which the poet describes is, in thehigh
est sense, poetical—morally beautiful—from the na
ture of the lessons it reads to the reflecting mind.
Rut we have already said that winter, per sc, is not
our present theme ; and we therefore address ourself
to the less expansive topic of winter-nights !
The very first thought that suggests itself is of
those beautiful lines of Cowper in his Task:
“ Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast—
Let fall the cm tain, wheel I lie sola bound :
Anal while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups
That cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each
So let u - welcome peaceful evenin'* in.”
< ‘li, happy hours of social and intellectual enjoy
m uit! —w ho does not love your return, and welcome j
whiter for your sake ! The delights of the fire side
are to us among the dearest joys of life, and we he. si- 1
tate not to say, that he who does not find a charm in
sucdi pleasures i osscsscs a perverted taste, or is the
victim of m'sfortunes that do not often befal Life’s
pilgrims.
The long winter-nights are eminently fitted for tho
indulgence of those tastes, and the cultivation of
those powers of mind, which we call the intellectual
The world, with its busy cares and its consumin'*
toils, loses its jurisdiction at the threshhoid of home”
and within the hallowed light of the “ ingle side ”
sordid calculations should not profanely intrude.—
“Sacred to heart and mind,” should be written up
on the walls of the family parlour—and, true to the
spirit of the inscription, each one admitted to the
sanctuary should contribute every thing in his pow
er to advance the happiness of all! At these peace
ful “ reunions” of the family circle, how delightful
ly nnd swiftly would the long hours pass, if sue h
were the ease. Who has not read, and, reading
admired the following exquisite description of sucha
scene 1
“ Rut here the needle plies its busy task,
The pattern grows, the well depicted flower,
Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn, ’
Unfold- Its bosom ; buds, and leaves, and sprigs
And (urling. tendrils, gracefully disposed,
Follow the nimble fingers of the fair: ’
A wreath that cannot fade, or flowers, that blow
With most success when all besides decay.
The poet's or historiun’s page by one
Made vot'd for th ’ amusement of the rest;
The sprightly lyre whose treasure cf sweet sounds
The touch from many a trembling chord shakes out-
And the clear voice symphonious, yet distinct ’
And in the charming strife triumphant still :
Beguile the night, and set a keener edge
On female industry—the threaded steel
Flies swiftly, and unfelt the task proceeds.”
And what are the simple elements that ingenious
ly combined produce an effect so exquisite and
charming ’ Reading, instrumental and vocal mu
sic, and the graceful accomplishment of embroide
ry ! Yet, how seldom is such a fairy scene realized?
And why 1 We answer, because both reading and
music arc too generally neglected among us; and
even where the latter is practised, it is rather as an
exhibition of‘the ln<t quarter's improvement’ than
as a means of social happiness.
Oh. how fatally do they err, who neglect the sour
ces of pleasure and profit which books so freely and
richly open to them! How sinfully do they abridge,
by their own negligence, the sum of happiness which
God allots to .hum, and circumscribe their means
foi promoting the well-being of others—in which,
perhaps, more than in any thing else, consists the
truest and highest enjoyment of life. What do we
nut owe to books 1 They are, indeed,
“a part of man’s prerogative;
In formal ink they thought and voices hold;”
and, as one of the most eminent writers of the ugo
has fitly said—
” ine I’ast but lives iu words: a thousand ages
Were blank, if books had not evoked their ghosts,
And kept the pale, unbodied shades to warn us
From flcshlcss lips.”
But why enlarge upon a theme so self-evident as
tins ? Me would that there existed among us such
a taste lor reading as would enable us frequently to
. ee the counterpart ot the felicitous picture of Cow
per: then might we, catching the enthusiasm of the
Sabine Lard, who sang of lar inferior hours :
“0! evenings worthy of the gods;”
but, with a loftier perception of the value of such,as
we have described, adopt the language of the poet
already quoted:
“ Oli! evenings, I reply,
More to be prized and coveted than your s,
As more illumined arid with nobler truths —
that I,and mine, and those we love, enjoy!”
If we have succeeded in investing our theme with
interest to our readers, we shall not have writleu ia
vain.
£ljc American s3crtoMcal Eucss.
Godey's Lady's Book, for December.
This number completes the thirty-seventh volume
of the Lady’s Book, a much longer period of exist
ence than it is the fate of most Magazines to attain.
Nor does its energetic proprietor seem to “grow
weary of well doing.” On the contrary, ho gives
promise for the future of excellence hitherto unfit
tained—of novelties more than ever attractive.
The patrons of the La ly’s Book will have confi
dence, mo-cover, in his promises—for he does no*
fail to perform, as this last number of a year abun
dantly proves. Among the embellishments of the
December issue is a ‘counterfeit presentment oi
the face of a young lady who Ins figured exteiisi vc ”
ly in th * Magazine worl l as “ Grace Greenwood
one of those alliterative nomtnes deplume, which
are more fashionable than sensible —always except
ing that of Fanny Forrester. Our Northern con
temporaries have, some of them, exhausted then”
vocabulary of praise to describe the genius ot
“Grace Greenwood,” whose head is in great (hu
ger of being turned by their indiscriminate flattery-
Mr. ( iodey avails himself of her present popularity
to swell the attractions of his Magazine; and hence
forth she is to be one of the editors—of whom we
are glad to see that Mrs. Ilale continues first- 1”
her hands the Lady’s Book must be worthy of
name and favor.
Subscribers should renew at once their subscrip
tions, and those who design to take the Book lor