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Professional € avis.
P. XV. Alexander,
A TT <> Jt X E Y A T L A W,
Thomaston, Geoi-gia.
nor 25. 1K59 lv
G. A. MILLEK,
ATTOII NE V A T LA W ,
Thomaston, Georgia.
i- Warupk. C. T. Goopk
Warn*is A Goodc^
-1 TTo ]{ y /•; VS A T LA Ti’
Perry, Eoustoix Cos., Ga.
nor 18, 4esß—tf
THOMAS BEALL,
ATTOII NE Y A T LA W ,
Thomaston, Georgia.
febll 18G0—ly
E. A. A J. W. Sjfiuy,
AT T 0 KN E Y S Ax T L A \Y ,
THOMASTON, GIOLCIA.
Aug. 27, 1859. n4l tt.
William C* Ifoi’^lry,
attorney at law,
Thomaston, Georgia.
\\ p"aetice in Upson, Talbot, Taylor, Crawford.
’ Monroe. Pike and Merriwether Counties.
April 7. 1859—1 y.
£ ’ E KKNXOS. R. H. r.ri.LOCU.
K K\XOX & BULLOCH,
attorneys at law,
Hamilton, Georgia. •
H : -L practice in all the counties of the Cliatta
(■< hee Circuit, Troup and Merriwetlier, and in
T_ ; : ng counties in Alabama.
Prompt attention given to collections.
•' ,l business entrusted to their care will receive
attention.
P lie ot the firm will he found at the office at all
tn. m °. n f l ie East side of the public square in
C)U’ TT!Vr ’' S ° F THE C° rRTS I!f Harris. —Superior
Cin *• 0 2,1 Monday in April and October. Inferior
Cn u Monday in January and July. Ordinary’s
* st Monday in each month.
. Member 29, 1800— ly.
-A. C. Moore,
Dentist,
a Fp thomaston, ga.
UZ l °T Ver DR - THOMPSONS’ store
cls s J r ar n prepared to attend to all^fe^KfciSk
isn y R f I,PIiW Iterations. My work
LITERARY MISCELLANY.
Romeo and Juliet—Bonreicanlted.
BY JOE BACK.STOCK.
It was in ancient Italy, a deadly hatred grew.
Between old Caleb Capulet and Moses Mon
tague.
Now, Moses had an only son, a little dapper
beau,
The pet ol all the pretty girls; by name young
Romeo.
And Caleb owned a female girl, just home from
boarding school,
Miss Juliet was her Christian name—for short
they call her dule.
To bring the lady out, he gave a ball at his
plantation,
And thither went young Romeo without an in
vitation.
One Tybalt (kinsman to the host) began to
growl and pout
And watch an opportunity to put the fellow
out.
Rut Caleb saw the game, and said, “Now cousin,
don’t he cross ;
Behave yourself or leave the room ; are you or I
the boss ?”
\\ hen Juliet saw Romeo, his beauty did enchant
her ;
And Romeo he fell in love with Juliet instau
ter.
Now, less their dads should spoil the fun, but
little time they tarried;
Away to Squire Lawrence sped, and secretly
were married.
Oh, cruel fate ! that day the groom met Tybalt
in the square;
And Tybalt, being very drunk, at Romeo did
swear.
Then Romeo his weapon drew (a knife of seven
blades,)
And made a gap in Tibby’s ribs that sent him
to the shades.
The watchmen came; he took to flight, down
alley, street, and square;
jhe Charlies ran, o’ertook their man, and took
him fore the Mayor.
j hen spoke the worthy magistrate, (and savagely
did frown,)
■*Y; nng man, you have to lose your head, or
else vamose the town.”
lie chose the last, and left his bride in solitude
to pine ;
“Ah me 1” said she, “our honeymoon is nothing
but moonshine.”
And then,to make the matter worse, her father
did embarrass,
By saying she must give her hand to noble
Count de Paris.
“T his suitor is a goodly youth; to-day he comes
to woo ;
if you ref use the geutleman I ‘ll soundly wollop
you.
Lite went to Squire Lawrence’s cell, to know
what m list be done ;
’i he squire bade her go to bed, and take some
laudanum.
“’Twill make you sleep, and seem as dead; thus
canst thou dodge this blow ;
A humbugged man your pa’ will be—a blest
one, Romeo.”
she drank, she sle J t, grew wan and cold; they
hurried her next day ;
That she’d piped out her lord got wtrd, far ufl
in Mantua.
v uoth lie, “Os life I’ve had enough ; I’ll hire
Lluftskiu s mule ;
Lay in a pint of Hal face rum, and lie to-night
with Jule.”
Then rode he to the sepulchre, Tnong dead
folks, bats, and creepers,
And swallowed down the burning dose, when
Juliet ope and her peepers I
“Are you alive ? Or is’t your ghost? Speak
quick, before 1 go.”
“Alive I” she cried, “and kicking, too; art thou
my Romeo ?”
“It is your Romeo, my faded little blossom ;
Oh, Juliet! is it possible that you were acting
possum V
“I was, indeed ; flow let’s go home ; pa’s spite
will have abated;
What ails you, love; you stagger so? Are you
intoxicated ?”
“No, no, my duck, I took some stuff that caused
a little fit;”
He struggled hard to tell her all, but couldn’t —
so he quit,
In shorter time than takes a lamb to wag his tail
or jump,
Poor Romeo was stiff and pale as any white
washed pump.
Then Juliet seized that awful knife, and in her
bossom stuck it;
Let out a most terrific yell, fell down and
“kicked the bucket.”
Friends and Acquaintances. —lt is
not necessary to please everybody iti this
world. Many friends or acquaintances are
very often injurious to mind and morals,
and also to our interests that are generally
esteemed of more importance. \\ e are not
intended by our Creator Jo associate with
every human being ; we are not even qual
ified to associate with many. We ought,
when in our power, to select the most suit
able and study to render ourselves agreea
ble to them, leaving the rest of the world
to like us or dislike us as they may. V e
should nil have a standard to aim at, and
we should aim at it vigorously and perse
veringly, not changing it for another and
another, like tickle, weak-minded people,
for, in so doing, we only render ourselves
ridiculous. Moreover, let us ever keep iu
view that there are many minds which are
dirty by nature, and have a craving tor
dirty ideas. This is especially the case
with youth, which is more obscene than
mature age. The less we encourage this
nature the better ; purity of mind, like
purity of body, is conducive to health—
health both to body and soul.
I>auiages for bad Dentistry.
At Newark, N. J., a Mr. Dobbs has re
covered S2OO of a dentist named Kusstll.
for improper dentistry. The Judge stated
as a principle of common law and com
mon reason, that any person claiming to
practice any particular trade or profes
sion, is responsible for failure to exercise
sufficient skill in the prosecution of bis bu
siness.
“THE UNION OF THE STATES: —DISTINCT, LIKE THE BILLOWS; ONE, LIKE THE SEA,”
THOMASTON. (il-ORRIA. SATIO.NY MOKMKti, Midi 16 HI.
THE ARKANSAS TRAVELER,
A lost and bewildered Arkansas Traveler
approaching the cabin of a squatter, about’
forty years ago, discovered the proprietor
seated on an old whisky barrel near the
door, partly sheltered by the eaves, ’ lay
ing a fiddle, when the following dialogue
ensued—the squatter still continuing to
play the same part over and over.
Traveler—Hello, stranger !
Squatter—hello yourself.
T—Can I get to stay all night with
you ?
—You kin git to go to h—ll.
T —Have you any spirits here?
S —Lot of ’em. Sal saw one last night
by that thar old holler gum and it nearly
skeered her to death.
T—You mistake my meaning, have you
any liquor ?
S —Had some yesterday, but Old Bose
he got in and lapped all uv it out’n the
pot.
T —You don’t understand, I don’t mean
pot liquor. I’m wet and cold, and want
some whisky. Have you got any ?
S —Oh, yes—l drank the last, this mor
ning.
T—l’m hungry, Inn n't had a thing this
morning ; can’t you give me something to
eat.
t- —Hain’t ad and thing in the
bouse. Not a mouthful of meat or a dust
of meal here.
T—Well, can’t you give my horse some
thing ?
S —Got nothiu’ to feed him on.
T—How far is it to the next h -use ?
S —Sirauger, I don’t know, I’ve never
been t liar.
T—Well, do you know who lives here ?
S—i do.
T—As I’m so bold then, what might
your name he ?
S —it might be Dick, and it might be
Sam ; but lacks a d—d sight of it.
T—Sir ! will you tell me where this road
goes to ?
S —lts never been any whar since I’ve
ilved here ; its always thar when i get up
in the morning !
T—Well, how far is it to where it forks?
S —lt don’t lurk at all; but is split up
like the d—i.
T—As I’m not likely to get to any oth
er house to-night, can’t you let me sleep in
yours, and i'll tie my horse to a tree, and
do without anything to eat or drink ?
S —My house leaks, thar’s only one dry
spot in it, and Sal sleeps on it. And that
ibar tree is the old woman’s persimmon ;
you can’t tie to it, ’case she don’t want
urn shuk off. She ’lows to make beer oui’n
um.
T—Why don’t you finish covering your
house and stop the leaks?
S —it’s been raining all day.
T—Well, why don’i you do it in dry
weather ?
S —lt don’t leak then.
T—As there seems to be nothing alive
about your place, but children, how do you
do here any lmvv ?
S —Putty well, I thank you; how do you
do yourseit ?
T —l mean what do you do far a living
here ?
S—Keep tavern and sell whisky.
T—Well, 1 told you I wanted some
whisky.
S—Stranger, 1 bought a bar’l mor’n a
week ago oil see me and Sal went sliar:*
Al ter we got it here ; we only had a bit,
betweenst us, and Sal, she didn’t want to
use her’n fust, nor me mine. You see, L
had a spiggen in one tend, and she in totli
er. So she takes a drink out’n ray end and
pays me the bit for it ; then I'd take tin
out’n her’ii and give her tlvo bit. Well,
we’s iretting along fust rate, till D;ck, d—d
skulking skunk, lie bourn a hole on the
bottom to suck at, and the next time I
went to buy a drink, they warnt none
thar.
T—l’m sorry your whisky’s all gone
but, my friend, why don’t you play the
balance of that tune ?
S —lt’s got no balance to it.
T—l mean you don’t play the whole.of
it.
S—Stranger, can you play the fiddle?
T—Yes, a little sometimes.
S —You don’t look like a liddlet but ii
you think you can play any more onto t hat
thar chune, you kin just git down and
stay.
(The Traveler gets down and plays the
w hole of it.)
S —Stranger, take a half a dozen cheers
and set down. Sal, stir yourself round like
a six-lioise team in a mud hole. Go round
iu the holler, where 1 killed that buck t.nis
momiiq cut off some of the best pieces,
and iotch it and cook it for me and this
gentleman, directly. Raise up the board
under the head of the bed, and git the ole
black jug 1 hid from Dick, and give us
some whisky ; I know thar’s some left yit.
Til, drive ole Bose out'n the bixuid-tiay,
then clime up in the loft, and git the rag
that’s got the sugar tied iu it. Dick, car
ry the gentleman's boss round under the
shed, give him some fodder and corn, much
as he can eat.
Til—Dad, they ain’t knives enouff to sot
the table.
!5 —Wbar’s big butch, little butch, ole
case, cob handle, granny’s knife and the
one I handled yesterday ? That’s euuff to
set any gentlemanVtable, without you’ve
lost um. D—m me, stranger, if you can't
stay as long as you please, and I’ll giv’you
plenty to eat and drink. \\ ill you have
coffee for supper ?
T—Yes, sir.
y—l’ll be hanged if you do tho : we don’t
have nothin’ that way here, but Giub Uy
son, and I reckon it’s mighty good with
sweetniu. Play away stranger, you can (
sleep on the dry spot to-nighs.
T—(After about. Iwo hour’s * fiddling.)
My friend, can’t you tell me about tlieaoad
Pm to travel t >-rny>ri<nv ?
S— To-morrow ! Stranger, you wou’t
gifc out’n tls sediggins for six weeks. But
when it gits so yon kin start, yon soo that
big slofl over there ? Well, you have to
git crost of that, then you take the road up
the bank, and in about a mile you'll come
to a two acre and a half corn patch, the
corn’s initely in the weeds, But you rteedu f
mind that jist ride on. About a mile and
a half or tw miles from thar, you’ll come
to the d—dest swamp you ever struck in
all your travels, its boggy enough to mire
a saddle blanket. That’s a first rate road
ab< ut six feet under thar.
T—How am I to get at that ?
S —You can’t git at it miry time, till
the wetlu r stith-ns down sum. W ell, a
bout a mile beyont, you come Jo a place
whar thur’s two roads. You kin take*!he
right hand es you want to, you’ll fuller it
a mil ■ or so and you’ll run but; you’ll then
have to come back and try the left, when
you git about two miles on that, you may
know you are wrong, fur they ain’t any
road thar. You'll then think you are mi
ty lucky cf you kin find the way back to
my house, whar you kin come and play on
th it chune as long as you please.
To Yoißiig JEesi Starting Into Life.
The first great lesson a young man
, should learn is, that lie knows nothing.—
The earlier and more thoroughly this lesson
is learned, the better. A home-bred youth,
growing up in the light of parental admi
ration, with everything to foster his vanity
i and self*esteem, is surprised to find, and
. often unwilling to acknowledge, tho siipe->
riority of other p oplo.
But lie is compelled to learn his own in
significance ; his airs aro redieuled, his
blunders exposed, his wishes disregarded,
uni he is made to cut a very sorry figure,
until his self-conceit is abased, and he feels
that he knows nothing.
When a young man litis thoroughly com
prehended the fact that he knows nothing,
and that, intrinsically, he is of but little
value ; the next lesson is, that the world
cares nothing about him. He is the sub
j ct of no man’s overwhelming admiration;
neither petted by the one nor envied by the
other, he has to take care of himself, lie
will n >t be noticed until he becomes notice
able ;h * will not bee-uie noticeable until
lie dors something to prove that he is of
some use to society. No recommendation
’ or introduction will give him this, or ought
to give him this ; he must do something to
l)-. 1 roc ignized as somebody.
There is no surer sign of an unmanly
and cowardly Spirit'dhan a vague desire for
help—a wish to depend, to lean on some
body, and enjoy the fruits of other people’s
industry. There are multitudes of young
men who indulge iu dreams of help from
some quarter, coming in at a convenient
moment, to enable them to secure the .suc
cess in life which they covet. The vision
haunts them of some old gentleman dying,
with a pocket lull of money, a box full of
scrip, a trunk fyll of mortgages, and a
mind remarkably appreciative, who will,
| perhaps, bequeath them from one thousand
I to ten thousand dollars, with which they
| can commence business, and go on swim
! mingly. Perhaps he will lake a different
turn and send them to college, from which
they will emerge knowing about as lb tig
as wiien they entered. Futdi young, men
shiYuld learn to do something, and prove
themselves worthy of regard
ItLiti'itaoafal.
I have lived solitary long enough ; Ivvaut
som ‘body to talk at, quarrel with—then
kiss and make up again. Therefore 1 .am
0* i'!i to proposals from young la lies and
fresh widows ot m ire average respectabil
ity, tolerably tame in disposition, and , the
hair of any oih>*r color than red. As near
ly as l can judge of myself. I am not over
eighty nor under twenty-five years of age
in height, am either five foot eight, or
.eight foot five, f ’.get which. Weight, 1 3b.
316, or .331. one of the three ; recollect each
figure pei feet ly well, but as to t heir true
arrangement am somewhat puzzled. Have
a whole suit of iiair. dyed by Nature, and
pretty free from dandruff. Eyes butternut
briudlo, tinged with pea-green. Nose built
according totin’ ionic-order of architect use,
with a touch of the Composite, and a
mouth between a catfish’s and an alligator’s
made expressly for oratory hud the recep
tion of large ovsters. Ears ualmated, long
and elegantly shaped. My whiskers are a
Combination of dog-hair, moss and briar
bush —well behaved and fearfully luxuri
ant. Am s >uud in w ind and limb, and on
the nigger question. Wear No. 9 boots
when corns are troublesome, and can write
poetry bv the mile, with double rhyme at
both edges— to read backward, forward,
en sswise and diagonallv. Can play on
the j- wsiiarp and base drum, and whistlu
Yankee-doodle in Spanish. Am very cor
rect in my morals, and first rate at ten pins ;
have a regard for the Sabbath, and never
drink only when invited. Am a domestic
animal, and perfectly docile— when tow
els are clean and shirt buttons on. If I
possess a predominant virtue, it is that of
forgiving every enemy whom I deem iti
hazardous to handle. I say my prayers!
eveiy night, mosquitoes permitting ; and (
as to whether I suore in my sleep, I |
want somebody to tell me Money
no object, as 1 never was troubled with
any, and never expect toT be. IL-y !
gals !
BEAVERS” ™
The habits and habitat iuu& of beavers
furnish mgriy iutyiestiug lessens for study
! for the woodmen and hunters, whether sei- t
entitit* naturalists or not* In our boyhood i
the principal sources of information respec
ting them were the old and tins mid traces of
dams that were found on every little brook
1 where we fished or hunted cowslips for
i greens. These beaver dams consisted of
, ridges ’of e’aVth from four fi>et above th(U
common level*of the “beaver meadow” fiat,
running each way from the brook to rising
land. We could find great numbers of
those dams wiien it would b* hard to un
derstand how they could ever make ponds I
:of sufficient depths for boaVers* use! But
, the brooks in the primeval forest, before,
the inroads of civilization, afforded more ;
water than iu modern times, and in many.,
instances the mar.diy pools which the bea
vers habits-require, by a natural prodess
have grown up and filled to solid land. As
in the older parts ot the country no new
works were found, it was generally under
stood that the beavers left and muved oil
’ whenever civilized settlements grew up
near them, and we have been surprised to
i find in this region the evidence of so many
living beavers. On the different tributa
ries of the iSt. John river miming out of
this State, there are some hundreds of them
caught every yyar ? and they do not seem
j to aiimnisli. Hunting parties, whether of
w hite men or Indians, consisting usually of
two or three men, often get from ten to
twenty beaver iu a win tin's hunt. Lum
bering, operations have a tendency to drive
them to the small brooks and head sources
of the rivers, for w hen found on ‘'driving
streams” their'dams have to be tern away;
j but the)’ do not seem partieularlv shy of
men or settlements unless their dams or
houses are destroyed. Four or five years
i ago, it is said, a company of them built
: dams and houses in the town of Ashland,
j only two miles from the village or corner,
; as it is called, and stayed two years, when
a part were caught, and the lest driven a
, way by the hunters.
There are tw r o kinds of them, differing
only in habits. For some reason now and
then One of them usnallv wanders alone,
: and has only a hole in the bend of the river
to live in, while they generally live in pairs
! or families, building houses and dams, pro**
i viding stores in companies—hence the
terms “family” or “working beavers.”—
Tim supposition is that ‘the bank beavers
1 tire such as have for some reason come short
j of a mate, or for idleness have been driven
from the ponds and hous s ; they are the
j same animals every Way only exiles. The
| law of industry among the working beavers
j is .well attested to by hunters. Their dams
| of houses are’ builr anew or rernod'died eve
! ry fall j and in a way to suit the height of
I the waterduring the-'Succeeding winter or
) spring. The object of the dam seems to
, regulate height of the water at their lious
-1 es, where they have two or three berths at
1 different, heights, whore they sleep dry but
! with tails in the water thus being warned
jof anv change in the rise or fall of water,
i Some houses stand six feet at least above
( the surface of the meadow, covered with
mud in the form of a round coal pit, but
intersected with sticks of wood; so as to he
- st.ro no\ and the-weight of three or four men
makes no impression upon it.
A “full family,” as hunters call them,
; consists of ihe parental pair and the males
!of the next generation, with their mates.
1 When tiib tribe get larger than this they
! cmfouize - .’ Some time in the fall all single
ones of both sexes congregate from consul
eruble distances, at the deepest lake in the
vicinity, where they choose A heir mates;
hovv ceremonious the nuptials wo cannot
j say ; then they all go home, the. female
j following her mate, and all go to work,
1 first putting the house and dam in order
! for winter,.'then hiving in their stock of
wood, the bark of which is their winter
final. They go up the streams s noe three
j miles for. their wood, and run it down to
their houses aud then in some myterious
way make it lay in a pile at the bottom of
! the pond, outside of the house, where they
[ may take it in at any time in the winter
■ for use. It is said that no human hands
■ can disturb’ that wood without its rising
and remainin • anoat till tuobeaver has the
handling of it again. But we do not feel
quite sure what is fact and what is conjec
ture respecting the beaver, whose works are
so much in tile night and deep underwater.
Tlie fall of the year is.-a busy time with
them, and it is interesting to s;ee their now
dams in process of building, as we some
times find thorn'a cross large boating streams
and not unfrequently boatmen and liver
drivers tent*, away th ir and ims and get a
good head of water for their use. They
usually build at ibe.oiitlet,of natural ponds,
and sometimes they tl iw large lakes and
Img oieci sos dead water, but are always
moving and reconstructing. How tlrev 1
keep thmr teeth in order for so much eat
ing. when the best steel would wear put is ‘
a mystery. They cut legs some, times
a foot through, aud every stroke of the 1
tooth tells toward the j b, and never - decs
a tooth get dull as we can are. Two win- !
ters ago. near Ashland, some lumber-men
encamped near one of their p aids. Due j
afternoon they tilled a tree across the lum
ber road, and Lefpre morning it was cut up ;
by the beavers and handsorut ly piled, out .
of tin* road. —Aroostook Pioneer.
Mr. Lincoln attended church at Buffalo !
last Sunday in Company with Mr. Fill
rnorrg and atferwards th ‘ President elect i
and his wife lunched with the Kx-Presi-|
dent. No d<mbt, Sunday as it was, Mil
lard took occasion to <_ r ivo Abraham some
wholesome advice. —Eashviile Put.
*Krlil crnr and c y 1 -ief or
Volume 3 Number 17.
An ( :)Nni!i)!H‘£Ual Physician.
The Paris correspondent of the Boston
Traveller relates the following :
A story is told upon llayer, the eminent
p: ysiciau here, lie was called in six
wet k& ago to attend a sick child. Tile
child—it was the only child of wealthy pa
rents —reeovored its health. A few days
after Raver luul discontinued his visits,
the mother of the little invalid called on
the Doctor. She said, ‘“My dear doctor,
there are services rendered ill this world,
w hich money cannot pay. I know not how*
we could adequately reward you for your
kindness and attentions and skill to poor
Hr nest. And 1 have .bought that perhaps
you would be good enough to accept tins
iiUle jiorte monnaie—a mere trifle but
which 1 emlnoideivd.” ‘ Porte Monnaie!”
roughly replied the Doctor. “Medicine,
Madame, is not a sentimental profession
When we are called in to visit sick people
we want their fees and not their gratitude.
Gratitude-—humbug ! I’d like to see
gratitude make the pot boil ; and 1 1 a/o
not only to make my pot boil, but I have
! got a horse to iced, Madame, and a driver
to pay, Madame, and daughters to portion
1 Madame, and gratitude won’t aid me to
!do any of those things. Money is what is
required—money, Ma lame—-yes, money.”
The lady Was, as y< u may well imagine,
confounded by this burst of indignant tul
-1 cuts, and she could only stammer : “But—
Doctor—what is your fee ?” “My foe is
two thousand francs—and I tell you, Mud
i ailie, there is no use senaming about it.-
I 1 will not. take one soil less.” The lady
did not scream—She quietly opened the
1 purte monnaie “I embroidered,” unrolled
! tho live bank notes in it, gave two to the
1 Doctor, pi.uii'd the ether thr in th port©
uiommie, and the latter in her pocket, and
bowed profoundly, “Good morning, Doc
tor,"’ and made her exit.
RAILWAY INVENTIONS.
A traversing frame to remove cars from
one line of rail to another has come into
l use on some of the English railroads Ac-
I cording to this plan, a strong frame sup
’ ported on wheels, which are covered by its
sides, travels on a railway at light angles
to the lines, from one to the other ot which
the cars are to be transferred.
The level of the upper surface of the
j transverse rail is a little above that of the
, principal lines, so that the latter are cleared
by the iiuiigos of the wheels of the frame
which therefore freely traverse them. The
transverse liue is broken where it crosses
the principal lines, space being left for the
trains to pass To receive the car, a rail
is placed like a shelf or ledge at the bottom
, of the sides of the frame, so as just to clear
the surface of the permanent rails, and to
! raise the ear upon this shelf, a switch is
i provided, which, turning upon a hinge,
; may be brought, when the frame is prop
erly placed, into the direction ot the prin
| cipal line.
The upper surface of this switch forms
1 an inclined plane, up which the car may
be raised until its wheels rest upon the
| shelf. The frame with its burden, is then
pushed sid ways along the transverse rail,
to which the car is to he transferred, and
| tlie switch supplies ail inclined plane by
which the car descends. This traversing
! frame, sup] lying, for many purposes, the
use ot the turn table, is regarded as a use
: I'ul invention.
- ——
THE T Hi: KST T< l UCII STUN k. —The truest
touchstone by which we can approve the
things which are conductive to our happi
ness, is to.consider how they will operate
I upon our minds for the lemainder of onr
I life. Sor instance, you have niri oppoftti-*
:nityot getting some great advantage by
! doing some vile thing : whilst vou look on
iy at the advantage, and think over all the
ways in which it may be serviceable to your
1 pleasure or ambition, so long the tempta-
I tion may I*3 strong ; but set it a little dis
tance lro'm you and the ease will he altered.
Suppose the thing done and the advantage
gained, and then put yourself in the pic
ture looking Hick upon the whole transac-*
tion and see what comfort will arise from
tin* refection. Gan yon rejoice in the sight
of woods and parks, if every sight of them
must call to your mind an innocent man
whom you mined to obtain them? Such
a thought must ever be attended with a se
cret abhorrence of ourselves : and how hap
py the man is who lives under a continued
displeasure with linns It lot any one judge.
Tiii: Thames too Sift*'/no for Parlia
ment. —The L union ‘J hues calls attention
to tiie fact that the new Parliament Hou
ses of England are in a state of preternat
ural decav—in f .ct, fast going to ruin. —
The efiluvia generated on the banks of the
Thames has not only attacked and dispers
ed the nicmb rs repeatedly, in spite of all
the appliances brought to bear for its abate
ment, but is rapidly acting upon the walls
or that magnificent- structure. The stone
employed it: their construction was a vari
ety of dolomite, believed to be imperisha
ble. It is proposed to glaze the walls with
silicate of potash, applied in a liquid state.
The farew 1! of some wives to their hus
bands every m rnin^ —1 >ll y and buy.
Whv i> n mutt like a fool ? Because
it holds a lady’s hanel without squeezing
it.
Marriage of Miss Harriet Lake-.
Mis* Lane celebrated the close of her uncle’s.
Administration hv hein<r married on Mon
day t< Mr. James Carlisle, the most bril
liant lawyer iu Washington.