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THE MATRIMONIAL MARKET.
The House of Coburg held, last week, a
meeting at SaxeVY eimer, where the following
resolutions were unanimously passed:
“ That the House of Coburg hails with the
liveliest satisfaction the election of Prince
],ouis Buonapare as President of France, in
asmuch as he is single.
“ That it is highly probable the Prince will
and must, at some future period, marry.
“That it is a most important fact, that the
Koval House of Coburg has been in the hab
it. from time immemorial, of providing at the
-holiest notice, all the courts of Europe with
-uitable spouses and brides—kings and queens
and that references of the said important
fact can easily be given.
“That the Royal House of Coburg has not
vet provided any Court with a Presidentess;
but it would feel the most ineffable pleasure
in so doing.
“That the earliest measures be taken to as
sure His Republican Highness, Prince Louis
Napoleon, of the above resolution, and that
the utmost readiness be displayed by the
House of Coburg in assisting him in his mat
rimonial views.”
Portraits, testimonials, pedigrees, valentines
ami numerous verses, have already been de
spatched to the Ely see Bourbon. The most
sumptuous wedding dress is in a forward state
of readiness.
We all have our Hobbies.— ls any body
were to set himself up for anything, there
would be sure to be somebody who would
think nobody could be fitter than this any
body for the position he might aspire to.—
The late election for the office of President
in France, proves our position at once; for
Vidocq, who is remarkable for his aptitude
at catching, and Abd-el-Kader, renowned for
being caught, had each an adherent, who
wished to see his favorite elected to the post
now occupied by Louis Napoleon.
We should like to have seen the individ
ual who desired to see Abd-el-Kader at the
head of the Republic, and the other individual
who was anxious to make Vidocq the chief
of the Executive. These two objects of a
literally singular choice, may congratulate
themselves upon enjoying the confidence of
one Frenchman each, as the celebrated Hen
ry Hunt fell in tears upon the neck of Je
rome the sweep, for having plumped alone,
in the orator's favor, when he started for
Westminster.
SdccteLi |Joetnj.
THE CHILD AND THE FLOWERS,
BY E . OAK E S SMIT H .
“ Pretty flowers ! sweet ainl fair,
Blooming in the tall tree shade,
Breathing perfume on the air,
Wherefore was your beauty made 1
Wherefore should your colors vie
With the rainbow in the sky ?”
Little child! our colors bright
Are the skilful work of God,
Who, to fill you with delight,
Paints with beauty every sod ;
And we would with kindly spell,
Bid you love your Maker well.
Pretty flowers! when the breeze
Shakes his pinion* o’er your home,
Or the birds, amid the trees
Round among your bright ones ream,
Why should perfume all around,
Breathe from every blossom’s ground.
Little child! the flowret’seup
Is an altar pure and lone —
Thence is always rising up.
Incense to our Father’s throne,
Dearest child, come bow the knee,
Let thy heart an offering be.
Brooklyn, L. /., 18-19.
BRIGHT WATER.
O ! water for me — bright water for me !
Aud wine for the tremulous debauchee !
It cooleth the brow, it cooleth the brain,
It maketh the faint one strong again ;
It comes o’er the sense like a breeze from the sea,
All freshness, like infant purity.
O ! water, bright water, for me, for me, —
Give wine, give wine to the debauchee !
Fill to the brim ! fill, fill to the brim !
Let the flowing crystal kiss the rim !
For niy hand is steady, my eye is true,
For I, like the flowers, drink nought but dew.
O ! water, bright water’s a mine of wealth,
And the ores it vieldeth are vigor and health.
tBo water, pure water, for me, for me !
And wine for the tremulous debauchee !
It freshens the heart, it brightens the sight—
bill again to the brim —again to the brim !
b or water strengtheneth life and limb:
To the days of the aged it addeth length.
To the might of the strong it addeth strength ;
I is like quaffing a goblet of morning light.
I'm water, I will drink nought but thee,
Thou parent of health and energy !
§©m 7a 1 ljt& la a 7 ©AS&77&*
\\ hen o’er the hills, like a gladsome bride,
Morning walks forth in her beauty's pride,
And leading a band of laughing hours,
Brushes the dew from the nodding flowers,
O ! cheerily then mv voice is heard,
Mingling with that of the soaring bird,
Who tlingeth abroad his matins loud.
As he freshens his wing on the cold gray cloud.
Hut when evening has quitted her sheltering yew,
Drowsily flying and weaving anew
Her dusky meshes o’er land and sea,
How gently, O sleep, fall thy poppies on mo !
For I drink water, pure, cold, and bright,
And my dreams are of heaven the life-long night,
Thou art silver and gold, thou art riband and star
Hurrah for bright water ! hurrah ! hurrah !
FORGIVENESS.
The sandal-tree perfumes when riven
The axe that laid it low;
Let man who hopes to ho forgiven,
Forgive and bless his foe.
The rose its fragrance to the foot,
While crushing it doth yield ;
Oh ! here, how simply beautiful,
Forgiveness is revealed.
sJnt)opaper Analects.
MASTER EUMPHERY AND LITTLE
NELL.
Mr. Dickens, in his new preface to “The
Old Curiosity Shop,” speaks with regret for
the sacrificed Master Humphrey and other
machinery of his book adventure, and pays
a delicate tribute to Thomas Hood, who led
the way with the public to the appreciation of
“ Little Nell.”
“I caused the lew sheets of “Master Hum
phrey’s Clock,” which had been printed in
connexion with it, to be cancelled; and like
the unfinished tale of the windy night and
the notary, in “The Sentimental Journey,”
they became the property of the trunkmaker
and the butter-man. I was especially un
willing, J confess, to enrich those respectable
trades with the opening paper of the aban
doned design, in which “Master Humphrey”
describes himself and his manner of life.—
Though I now affect to make the confession
philosophically, as referring to a by-gone
emotion, I am conscious that my pen winces
a little even while I write these words, Mas
ter Humphrey’s Clock, as originally construc
ted, became one of the lost books of the earth
—which, we all know, are far more precious
than any that can be read for love or mon
ey-
Tn reference to the tale itself, I desire to
say very little here. The many friends it has
won me, and the many hearts it has turned
to me, when they have been full of private
sorrow, invest it with an interest, in my mind,
which is not a public one, and the rightful
place of which appears to be “ a more remov
ed ground.”
I will merely observe, therefore, that, in
writing the hook, I had always in my fancy
to surround the lonely figure of the child with
grotesque and wild, though not impossible
companions, and to gather about her innocent
face and pure intentions, associates as strange
and incongenial as the grim objects that are
about her bed when her history is first fore
shadowed.
I have a mournful pride in one recollection
associated with “Little Nell.” While she
was yet upon her wanderings, not then con
cluded, there appeared in a literary Journal,
an essay of which she was the principal
theme, so earnestly, so eloquently and ten
derly appreciative of her, and all her shadowy
kith and kin, that it would have been insen
sibility in me, if I could have read it without
an unusual glow of pleasure and encourage
ment. Long afterwards and when I had
come to know him well, and to see him, stout
of heart going down into his grave, I knew r
the writer of that essay to be Thomas Hood.
—Literary World.
AN AFFECTING STORY.
I yesterday heard a deeply affecting story
which I will briefly relate. A young gentle
man had taken his wife and darling boy of
ten months, to visit some relatives living
about one’ hundred and fifty miles in the coun
try. Business demanded his immediate re
turn, he left his wife and child to follow at
the expiration of a few weeks. While on
their return, and when but a few miles on the
journey, the stage was overturned and the
child killed—the mother escaping unhurt. —
The poor, broken-hearted mother carried her
dead hoy in her arms during the remainder of
that terrible ride ! Silently, without a moan
or tear, for two days and nights, did she wrap
in the folds of her bosom her cherished bur
den—all her senses absorbed in the crushing
weight of her afflicting bereavement. At the
stage office she was met by her husbaniß—
and here, for the first time, her deep grief
found utterance, and relief in tears. With
unspeakable anguish the stricken father re
ceived the body of his cherub-hoy—whose in
nocent prattle would gladden his heart no
more—the sunshine of whose face was dim
med in death. Alas! it was the first and on
ly one! With heavy steps and sinking
hearts they went their weary way homeward,
bowed down to the earth with sorrow, yet
meekly uttering the prayer of Christian re
signation, “The Lord gave, and the Lord
hath taken away! Blessed be the name of
the Lord!” —Fredericksburg (Md.) Examiner.
RE GENTLE.
A man with an irritable temper is more to
be pitied than one bowed to the earth by pov
erty. The latter can be ameliorated, while
the former is a devil that makes havoc with
all of the finer qualities of heart and mind,
taking the helm from reason and running the
possessor perpetually against rocksand rough
corners. A petulant man in a family of chil
dren, even of his own, is worse than a
case of the small pox, from his influence on
their young minds. The old adage—“As
the old cock crows the young one learns,” is
a grand truth: and we see it illustrated.— ;
Those old fellows that sputter and growl
round their homes are sure to be imitated
faithfully by the little watchers for parental
squalls, and a nest of hornets is made where
peace and harmony alone should dwell. —
The fractious man should be consigned to
valerian and penitence, and kept by foice
from spreading his contagion. What right
haS a man to poison the happiness any more
than the food of his family ?• The text might
be made to apply to all the relations of life
where misery is cultivated and growling
made the order of all days. There are com
munities and parties where the old saw about
“dogs with sore heads” would give but a
faint indication of their condition of mind. —
vVe need a society for the promotion of good
nature more than for any other philanthropic
purpose.— Boston Post.
AN OPIUM DEBAUCH.
One of the objects at this place that I had
the curiosity to visit was the opium smoker
in his heaven ; and certainly it is a most fear
ful sight, although perhaps not so degrading
to the eye as the drunkard from spirits, low
ered to the level of the brute, and wallowing
in his filth. The idiot smile and death-like
stupor, however, of the opium debauchee, has
something far more awful to the gaze than
the bestiality of the latter.
The rooms where they sit and smoke are
surrounded by wooden couches, with places
for the head to rest upon, and generally a
side room is devoted to gambling. The pipe
is a reed about an inch in diameter, and the
aperture in the bowl for the admission of the
opium is not larger than a pin's head. The
drug is prepared with some kind of conserve
and a very small portion is sufficient to
charge it, one or two whiffs being the utmost
that can be inhaled from a single pipe, and
the smoke is taken into the lungs as from the
hookah in India. On a beginner one or two
pipes will have an effect, but an old stager
will continue smoking for hours. At the
head of each couch is placed a small lamp,
as fire must he held to the drug during the
process of inhaling; and from the difficulty
of tilling and properly lighting the pipe there
is generally a person who waits upon the
smoker to perform the office. A few days of
this fearful luxury, when taken to excess,
will give a pallid and haggard look to the
face ; and a few months, or even weeks, will
change the strong and healthy man into little
better than an idiot skeleton. The pain they
suffer when deprived of the drug after long
habit, no language can explain; and it is only
when under its influence that their faculties
are alive.
In the houses devoted to their ruin, those
infatuated people may be seen at nine o’clock
in the evening in all the different stages;
some entering half distracted, to feed the crav
ing appetite they had been obliged to subdue
during the day ; others laughing and talking
wildly under the effects of a first pipe : while
the couches around are filled with their differ
ent occupants who lie languid with an idiot
smile upon their countenance, too much un
der the influence of the drug to care for pass
ing events, and fast merging to the wished
for consummation
The last scene in this tragic play is gener
ally a room in the rear of the building, a
species of dead-house, where lie stretched
those who have passed into the state of bliss
the opium-smoker madly seeks—an emblem
of the long sleep to which he is blindly hur
rying.—Six Months inChina. by Lord Jocelyn.
Conversational Powers no Indication
of Genius. —Fluency in conversation must
not be ascribed as a test of talent. Men of
genius and wisdom have often been found de
ficient in its graces. Adam Smith ever re
tained in company the embarrassed manners
of a student. Neither Buffon nor Rousseau
carried their eloquence into society. The si
lence of the poet Chaucer was held more de
sirable than his speech. The conversation
of Goldsmith did not evince the grace and
tenderness that characterize his compositions.
Thompson was diffident and often uninterest
ing. Dante was taciturn and all the brillian
cy of Tasso was in his pen. DesCartes
seemed formed for solitude. Cowley was a
quaint observer; his conversation was slow
and dull, and his humor reserved. Hogarth
and Smith were absent minded, and the stud
ious Thomas Parker said that he was fit tor
no communion save with the dead. Ourown
Hamilton, Franklin, and a host of others,
were deficient in that fluency which often
fascinates a promiscuous circle.
—
Marriage Anniversaries. — It is a com
mon thing for people to lake some special no
tice of their birth days, and those of their
children. But we suggest anew plan. Cel
ebrate your wedding day. Make it a family
custom, and let the children make their pa
rents presents. On the children's birth-days
the parents can return the compliment if they
choose. But would not such a custom tend
to preserve many important associations, keep
the link of affection from rusting, and con
tribute to the permanent happiness of the
family.
A great mind retracts an error as
soon as it is discovered. To persist in wrong
is absolute folly. Can it be degrading to
acknowledge that we have discovered the
truth !
|JI)iloso))l)ij for tljc Ipcoplc.
MEZZOTINTO ENGRAVING.
Thisis a kind engraving very different from
common engraving upon .steel. The common
or line engraving, as it is called, is done by
the graver, the lines made by that instrument
producing the figures by shade. Mezzotinto
on the other hand produces the shades as it
were by minute dots and the light by scrap
ing away dotted parts of the steel plate.—
The first operation is to trace out with chalk
the space for the picture on a smooth steel
1 plate. The grounding tool is then employed
to go over the whole face of the plate for the
picture. This tool is formed with a curved
face serrated like the finest rasp. It is held
| steadily in the hand pressed with a moderate
force rocking it from end to end till it has
completely hacked all the face of the plate.
The other lines are then drawn across the
plate at right angles to these and the rocking
operation repeated. These diagonal opera
tions have to be repeated a number of times
until the part of the plate for the picture, pro
duces a very dark ground. The design is
then traced on the plate, some artists employ
ing one way and some another, and the pic
ture is finished by scraping away parts of the
serrated surface for the light shades by a tool
formed something like a burnisher. The
masses of the strongest light are first begun
and scraped pretty smooth, and some parts
where ihere is no shade, are burnished. The
next lower graduations of shade are then
scraped down after which the reflected lights
are entered upon. Various proofs of the
! work are taken during the progression of the
engraving.
This style of engraving is fast banishing
all other kinds of steel engraving out of the
field. It is exceedingly soft and rich intone,
so much so indeed that it has been condemn
ed by some as being too tame in character
. throughout. We # are glad that this argument
against the art can no longer be advanced.
Within the past year Mr. Ritchie of this city
has produced Mezzotints possessing all the
vigor of the line engraving combined with the
rich shade of the Mezzotint, —it is anew dis
covery in the art, which is fast earning a
proud name to the inventor, and which in
other hands would perhaps be worse than
useless, for he combines like Albert Durer and
Hogarth and Sartain, the qualification of art
ist and engraver.
It is difficult to tell who was the first dis
coverer of the mezzotint engraving. It was
practiced on copper for a long time before it
was tried on steel, Mr. Turner, an eminent
London engraver, states in the Transactions
of the Society for the encouragement of the
arts, that James Watt was the first who sug
gested unto him the use of steel plates for‘the
mezzotint. This was in 1812. No work of
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