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VOL. 1--XO. *4. POETRY. I'!I Zl TORY HAT. nr N. r. willis, There something in a noble boy, A brave, free-hearled careless one, With hts unchecked, unhidden joy, ilia dread of books and lovn of fun, lnil in his clear and ready smile, [Shaded by u thought of guile, Vnd unredressed by sadness— Which brings me too ray childhood back, u jf I trod its very track, ynd fdt its very*gladness. Andyet it is not in his play. When every trace of thought is lost, And ant when you Would call him gay, ’■p.... his bright presence tlirills me most. His shout may ring upon the hill, Ji, voice be .echoed in the hall, His merry laugh like music trill, Lnd I in sadness hear it all — For, like the wrinkles on tuy brow , I scareely notice such things now jot when, amidst the earnest game, He stops, as i.f ho music heard, And heedless of his shouted name, As of the carol of a bird, (lands gazing on the empty air Aj if some dream were passing there Tis then that on his face I look, Jjs beautiful but thoughtless face, And like a long-forgotton book, ~>wect familiar meaning trace, ii .'member mg a thousand things Which passed me on those golden wings Vhich time has fettered now — Things that came o’er me with a thrill, And left me silent, sad and still, lad threw upon my brow A holier and gentler cast,- That was too innocent to last. Tiv strange how thought upon a child Mill, like a presence, some times press, Aid when his pulse is beating wild, And lilc itself is in excess— Whnlbot and baud, and ear and eye, brail with ardour straining hig>- How ia his heart will spring 1 filling whose mysterious thrall, sstronger, sweeter far than all; And on its silent wing, low with the clouds he’ll float away, Uwauderiug and as lost a thing ! niSCELLAMKOIS. | From the European Magazine .EGENDS OF LAYPIDOSA. THE BELGIAN. bert Altcnbcrg, one of the richest cili-! if Brussels, lay on his death, bed with no i ilation, except that he had a son capa if atoning for flic errors into which ava- 1 had betrayed him. “Herman !” lie j is the young man sat hy his In 1 study-j le last expression of his glazing eyes— ire you wealthy, and your uncles, if they . lill living, have no other heir—hut we . •act; a sister—read these papers, and do j e to my memory.”—Herman assented j tlent pressure of tiie hand, which clung • till it became lifeless. Soon after his j '«funeral, an extraordinary change ap-! I m Ins character. Instead of the hos y, the lieueficence, and spirit of enter- j which old Altcnbcrg had been studious ! tess. the heir discovered even more fiu amlcaution than his father. He con all the scattered wealth he inherited! nc fund, hut its depository was a pro- 1 secret. At length its amount was ■d, and the reserve of his demeanor dt!v cunjofjueneeofnecessary rctrench- I’ri'sently his fellow-citizens disco tint lie spent no more than the rate sum required for mere subsistence ; l was easier to discern that he was poor, that he might he virtuous. His friends ally changed their assiduous courtesy tost: colil and stately condescensions are practised to humble the receiver. - two or three years He continued to ni societies where his entrance was no -11 last only by a scornful smile or a tsfamiliarity*, which lie affected to re- j "Hit indolent indifference. But the | of suspected poverty was not unfelt, 1 h 1 1! notcourage enough to contemn it. t Bru*iellh m secret, without leaving Jrv ot h,s route, as some supposed to if Lmperor Joseph’s army as a voltin lr ts many more believed, to perish by prat clock of a noted inn at Brussels Inrk twelve, when the half-clothed g-dates, | ran mtoone of the most cron wimtones. and shaking a sleepe.’s ‘’•nelaimed in his ear,“Monsieur 1 -— S 'irlias mistaken the room—this bed is p, l ; <ia lady.”—“This bed!” returned '-’f/ traveller—“this vile composition ' ■ and fir-shavings ! —Must a man be w veil in purgatory !”—The sou arranging the stiff wings of her cap, -” 1 oration on the lady’s prior claims, ‘ past professed his belief that wo -I‘Wigtii one of the nine classes of de tnplKiscd bv a Flemish doctor. “Sir,” ! Hung student from Gottingen, “it is isolation to know that every great ’’tbi: last forty.(wo centuries has been 'rirmeuted.”—“A glorious comfort, retorted the grumbler, “that three or ii'ttidrr-d fools have been remembered ' 4,er tools than themselves ! I want ' -'t'kins, nor Jacobus He Donrim.nor 15, -oracota. to tell me why w omen love E and a goose logo barefoot.” 1 torrent was interrupted in his way ans, by meriting the cause of his ftn re, a plain ancient gentle-woman, j Pmess restored him to good-humor, "culd have niiJc him furi- as™ mtmm? m a PRINTED AND PI.'BMSHKD BY .HAK.HADIKII J. «.ARE, AT THREE DOLLARS PER A.m.l. ous, by lessening his pretext for spleen : and | as angry men usually submit to any evil they arc allowed to murmur at, the malcontent seated himself in “grim repose” by thckitcli*! en-firc. There some Belgian soldiers were congratulating themselves on their future quarters at the farm of a decrepit and solita ry widow, celebrated for wealth and avarice. ; l'heur new auditor, concealed in a recess, lis tened to ther ribaldry, perhaps for the tirst time, without disgust, because his misanthro- i py found an excuse in the vices of others. Be fore the dawn of a morning over-east with Bel gian fogs, a diligence left this inn-door, con- 1 tabling only M. Von Grumholt and one fe- j male passenger. Our traveller,with no small chagrin, recognized the close coil and grey redingote of his midnight disturber, while she quietly considered his singular aspect. Very little of his face was visible, except the con temptuous curl of his under lip, and the prom- j inence of that feature which is said to express j disdain. A broad fiat, enormous boots, and a coarse wide wrapping coat, deprived his fi-1 gure of all symmetry or character, except! that ot a busy aud important burgomaster. As ! the daylight increased, M. Von Grumholt discovered indications of curiosity, shrew- ; tshness, and other feminine virtues, in the thin lips and wrinkled forehead of his meagre companion, especially When she ventured an j inquiry respecting the next inn. A cup of j coffee at Quatre-Bras,since so celebrated ill tni’itary annals,removed a few furrows from his ’ brow,and enabled him to perceive that it was I prepared by a fair and well-shaped band, dec i oruted with a ring of some value. But he chose j to sleep, till suddenly seeing the place of Ills : ! destination, ho alighted from the diligence! •with no other ceremony than an abrupt and j scowling farewell. His humble-fellow-tray, i | eller continued Iter journey a few hours lon-! ger, and w hen the carriage stopped at the i i end of a lonely lane, among the cornfields which surrounded her residence, she entered it on loot, without any attendant. Though; J the night was lar advanced, no one seemed to have awaited her coming, and the Brussels ; j diligence was soon fur out of sigut. Light- i | ed by a full harvest moon, she was selecting ! j her steps with Flemish neatness and non* chalence along the solitary avenue, when a j man’s shadow crossed her path. She looked up calmly, thougn not without a sense of! danger. and saw the traveller had called himself Von Grumholt. Ilis lin gering pace and muffled figure might have justified suspicion, but she only said, “IVc are still travellers, it seems, on the same road.”—“Doyou walk alone, and at this hour ! tollie White Farm?”returned A on Grumholt, in a low voice—“ Take my arm, then—wc maybe useful to each other”—Hesitation would have been danger, and she yielded to the offer without shrinking, though the pres sure of her arm against a concealed pistol, and the motion of a sabre as she walked hy his side, seemed to reveal liis true purpose.—“lt is strange,,’she said, trembling, “that I see no lanthorn’s light, and no one here f> meet mo !”—Her escort was silent till they reach ed the square court-yard of the farm, shel tered, according to Belgian fashion, on three sides hy the mansion and its wings. AM was desolately dark, and the defenceless mis tress, gathering courage from her danger, said in a frank toue, “Let us enter—though iny servant is heedless, and probably absent, I shall find enough to furnish a supper for inv protector.”—“Dare you trust me, then!” re turned Von Grumholt, in a tone which be trayed strong emotion.—“ You have not wron ged yourself—but this is no place for you— here is hut one concealment among the hol low elms round the dove-cote.”—“You are no stranger here !” she exclaimed, firmly.— “Trust me only a little longer,” lie answered —“but wait for my signal.”—The. courage ous woman took her station in the hollow elm to which he pointed, and his gentle knock at the farm door was answered from the win dow by a ruffian-voice—“ Why so late, Caspar? It will be day before we find her hoards.” —Von Grumbolt’s reply was a shrill whistle, and six men concealed among tho elms rushed through the unbarred door into the firm ! house, while their guide seized the ruffian | admitted by a treacherous servant. He and • bis accomplice were soon in irons, while the ! armed stranger seemed to seek the mistress \ of the mansion lie had preserved from plun der—“ These are my soldiers, madam,” said ! lie, in a gentler tone; “and you will not re ! fuse their Colonel permission to lie your guest. 1 I heard the business of this night planned by the felons who designed to execute it ; there fore 1 chose to assist in its defeat mvseif.”— The modest French farmeress looked at her preserver with a respectful silence more af fecting than words, and taking the diamond ring from her finger offered it to his—“l have not forgotten vour invitation,” said the Colo nel, resuming his blunt austerity while lie brushed a sudden moisture from liis eves— “you will find a voracious guest at vour sup ; per-table.”—Without blushing at the humility ! of the task our heroine arranged the ample ; contents of her store-room on her best table, and provided an abundant sideboard for her j new visitor’s attendants. A chamber, whose I neat furniture had chiefly proceeded from j her own distaff, was allotted to the Colonel, ■ who would not have chosen to confess, even on the rack, how many tender and deep re . grets haunted his pillow Almost at day ' break he rose, and found bis hostess busied in ! her simple domestic avocations.—“l do not 1 ask you,”said she, ‘‘to admirs my gvrdeu- "Wl SEVER DESPAIR OK AST THINS—TkITM atIXV Ola ACM*, w* SUALL SAIL UNDER HER AUSPICES."—HORACE. CfrBOEMUA TIMES vines, or tile beautiful slope of tins valley, for they appear to be r, iiieinhered.”—“Perhaps”, replied her guest, “I bey resemble—or remind me ol scenes long -urice past—and who can remember the past without regret '! Bpt though you have tin- goodness to ask nothing, 1 am come to claim i reward.”—The farmer-! ess raised her eves from the spiced bowl she i was preparing for the first repast,and consid ered the speaker’s countenance. If the low er part contained those strong line sand curves which students suppose to indicate the darker passions, his clear eye and ample forehead would have impressed the most un learned observer with an idea of vigorous in tellect and a rapid spirit. While she paused, j the Belgian officer vvas equally attentive to her looks, but his glance vvas an inquisition and Ilis smile a satire ; for he secretly deri- i ded the vain coquetry which he thought ex pressed iu her hesitation. And with more j coldness than respect, he added, “The pre mium I ask for a trilling and accidental ser vice, is t*j remain a few days or weeks in this house—lt suits my military duties, my love of rural manners, and my health, which a terrible disorder has laid waste.”—llis en tertainer answered, with a kinder smile, “.My father was a physician eJucated in Antwerp ; !he bequeathed mu a book which contains 1 the symptoms and remedies best ascei-, ! taiiicd ; and I think your illness lias a well ' know n name.”—The Colonel scowling con-j temptuouily, bade Ins doctress proceed,—“lt' is the malady of poets, philosophers, states men, and kings—the symptoms area leaden ! ; colour, a hollow eye, a sour smile, aud a ven omous wit—lt is called wisdom, hut its true : name is melancholy.”—Stiuckby the bold ness of this speech, Von Giumboldt, forced a painful laugh, and desired to know the reinc • dy.—“Old Tiiiius of Antwerp,” said shc,clo* 1 sing the volume from which she had seemed ; to quote, “would have prescribed 600 herbs, i the bone found in a stag’s heart, a ring made j | from a wolf’s hoof, —or perhapsacup of wine: ; hut tnv father taught tne another remedy, which I keep among inv hoards—those winch | the robbers could not find.”—Her guest, si ! lenced by confused and sudden feelings, fal- I lowed into the apartment where, supported | by pillows in an easy chair, sat an aged man, ! whose pale grey eye and fixed features sliew • ed the quiet imbecility of second childhood. . But the deep seams in his forehead, the knot ted muscles about his lip, and the strong con* traction of his dark eye-brows, also indica' | ted what malignant passions bail once been i busy there. A boy and two infant girls were : busied in wrcathjrig Ins footstool with the forget-me-not, and other beautiful wild flow ers, so abundant in the fields near Waterloo “ This unfortunate inan,” said Von Grutn . hohlt’s conductress, “vvas templed by anxious | fondness for his children to confuse his l sister’s fortune with his owi. which vac ; islied away as if the embezzled part had been a part (bat consumed the whole. Those who aided him to rob In r are gone, and no one re members him. When I feel the beginning of that distrustful, envious, peevish, and tim orous spirit which the world culls melancho ‘ iy, 1 lock at this forlorn old man ami those j orphan.children ; and their gratitude makes ! :ny heart good.”—The Colonel shuddered as Ihe replied. “Isthis human ruin an enliven ing spectacle? And those orphans, whose ; dependence is th£school of craft, envy and | avarice!—is not their fate a motive rather j than a medicine lor melancholy “It might be,’’answered the matron,“if 1 held my self responsible for events,, but I am satisfied ; with good intentions, and leave their suc cess to another arbiter. Though this human vegetable is not conscious of my presence, and never soothed by any caresses— -the- gb those children may bo unquiet, sordid, or de ceitful, it is pleasure-enough to love and de serve to be loved by them.”—All madam!” saul herguest, uncovering bis head vvitli an e motion of respect lie had not felt before, “you i have said truly that gratitude makes the heart good, but ungrateful men have corrupted mine. The horrible weariness of life, tile death of spirit which comes upon rue every day, lias no esteem, and toclierish nothing hut I remember every thing—and this terri ble remembrance, this cruel experience of false aud hollow iiearts, convinces me that e ven your bounty is -a melancholy illusion. It will make one ungrateful and two discon tented—it will leave you in a desolate old age with no employment to hate and regret.” —“My good friend, I have not yet told you my father's most precious prescription. Ma ny, pel haps, equalled him in science, a few in eloquence—butvvlnf a diyjne world would this be if all resembled him in gentleness!— His only maxim vvas “ Forget nil —and there is in these two words a talisman which as suages the heart, lightens the head, and com poses all enormities. Was your (rightful langour and despair present while you res cued me from robbery and asasssiuation!”— j “No—because we cannot remember injuries while vve are conferring benefits :—but bene-, I fits are forgotten !”—“Ah ! now you shew 1 ; the grangrene of the wound—vou have been misunderstood and insulted. Well, take cou -1 rage—l have been charged with improvi dence in my youth, because it was easier to ! trust than to susjicct. and now lam called a miser by those who caonot know for whom l am amassing a future competence.”—“You seem poor, then only to enrich others !” said | the discontented man, sighing—“out is it ne ces.-iry to suffer this rustic and laborious ser -1 vitudr.w ith the •gneminyef impeded avarice, MILLEDGEVILLE, GEORGIA, JUNE “6. I8a:i. *or the benefit of alien children and an inseii-' sible man, whose wretchedness is his due punishment?”—“is it not nuceapaiy, perhaps” she replied, “l ut he is my brother, and was rnv enemy! I must pity and relieve his 1 wretchedness, unless I endure the misery of I 1 haling him, vvlirch would be greater even than ; his. And the evil he caused me cease when I forgot it.’ —Vos Gruinboldt started, and ex- 1 ; ainiiied her with wild and eager eyes, while ' she added, “Ttiis is my cure for melancholy : j ( cannot give you the Antwerp physician's talisman, but the ring you received from ine last night may have equal virtue. It is the only legacy I designed for a nephew noble e- , • noqgh to abstain from borrowe i wealth, and j to redeem Ins father's honour by retiring himself into poverty, though with such a hit j ter feeling of disad vantages.” Neither the natural sang-froid of a Belgian, j nor the acquired sternness of a veteran, could 1 repress the soldier’s tears,when ho recognized 1 liis lather’s sister, so long lost and so deeply I injured. This interview, this opportunity to offer an ample rcstitut on of all that her broth !er had accumulated unjustly, completed liis ! only wish and most sacred purjiosc, which , had been baffled many years by the humble seclusion she had chosen from generous mo j lives. Thus having retrieved his lather’s . name from blemish, he appeared again in Brussels among his former friends, who read i tly paid'to the successful and distinguished | Col. Nun G the homage they iiad refused !to Herman Altcnherg in his supposed indi gence. But lie had learned its true value, and preferred the white luriii where liis bc j nevolent aunt resided in the loveliness of charity and peace. She bequeathed him all that Ins filial integrity had restored toiler,but he divided it among her less fortunate rela tives, reserving only the ring, which bv re calling tho. beauty of patience and forgiveness to liis recollection, became liis tuhsmuii a | gainst mcluucholy. TEI’MS OF MARRIAGE, i ■ Sir Thomas Munroe, on being pressed liy . his sister to take unto himself a wile, irave the following as his ultimatum on the sub ject ; —“ You sec.” said he, “how many good reasons there are against your scheme of my taking nurse instantly, and hastening to throw myself at tho indy’s feet; as to the other, of proxy, 1 can only agree to it on certain condi ; tions. If she is not, or even if I fancy she ! is not, so charming as Clclia or Rosamond, I am to be at liberty to look for one that is. I • am .to Cat and sleep whenever 1 please, w ith-, ! out any questions being asked. No private orders are to be givin to the barber or tailor, about the decorations ol my person. I am not lo he forced to sit up, mid receive inale or leinale visitors; neither the supcrintcu dence of the kettle nor tea-cups is to lie con • side red as a part of my duty- t am not to lie obliged to deliver iny opinion on patterns for caps or frocks lor my lady. lam not to igo out to tea or supper, unless I choose. lam not lo lie ordered on any duties of danger, such as escorting young ladies home in a ivin i dy, or old ladies in a frosty night, t am to have liberty of conscience, and to altend : church ns often as I think proper. And, 1 lastly, when I am tired of home, I may return to India alone. N. B. Should any doubt hereafter arise ; about the meaning of these clauses, iny in terpretation is to be received as infallible; • and should.l explain the same article differ ent wavs at different times, I am not to give I any reason for so doing. These are inv terms, from none of which I can recede.” [Life of Sir Thomas Munroe. THE RINGLET. A cheerful fire blazed on the bcartli, in the neat little.parlour of Mr. Percy, one cool eve ' ning in November, :uid Helen, with a choice party of young friends, formed an agreeable little circle around it. Helen Percy was not : what the uzorld would call handsome, that is, she did not |>osscss regular features, had neitli j er black nor blue eyes, tresses waving grace fully over her shoulders, nor a skin quite as white as tho new fallen snow but then there was beauty in her face, and a beauty that was richly worth ail these; it consisted of express ion. Tiie feelings of a good and benevolent heart, aided by the graces of a pure ami well cultivated mind, cast a lustre over a face that could boast of no other accomplishment, and suie none other was necessary to make it in teresting. But Helen’s most powerful charm was m her conversation, often sprightly, and always sensible and plearing, it rendered her ever a most engaging companion. It was generally known among her acquain iances, that she was betrothed to a young na vy offieer, who was then, and had been for nearly two years, absent in the l fnited States’ service, and who was now daily expected borne. Helen was anx inus for his arrival, not for the gratification of her own affectionate feelings alone, but the tale of scandal had gone fort', and she wished its course at once arrested. An amiable and worthy young man was in the habit of visiting at the house of Mr. Percy; he knew of Helen’s engagement, and hij visits to the family were prompted by friendship alone; but others thought different. Iv; persons were surprised that in the absence of Clarence Lee, she would sanction the ad dresses of another ; it was dishonorable thus to traffic with his feelings—in short, she was in their eyes a most hearliesscoquette. Helen knew these whispers were around her, but she knew, also, she was wronged; she despised the petty artifices of those who would construe l every friendly feeling into accepted love, and i she was resolved it should not he tho means ol depriving tier ol a friendship so valuable i us that of the innocent mover of it all. ■ i I remarked that a small group were assem- I : bled around the fireside of .Mr. Perry 's house, i and on this occasion u stranger was seated I among them, who had entered with the com- I puny ; and yet appeared lo be unknown to all: I a profusion of light hair fell over Ins forehead i and checks, which were olm shaded bv large • inustuchios, an rl he wore a pair of green spec- , tacles over his eyes. I he little party were gay and lively as usu ul, lint there was a sudden stillness in the room l | when the stranger, liul.Kiik in lilal.aiiU u ■ ■■■£• • let of dark brown hair, tremulously asked a 1 lady next to him if that was a pretlv tress, j “It certainly is,” was the reply, “and a fa- , vorito memento I presume.” * , “It was taken, madam, from the bosom ol ; an officer, ii trieud of mine, who fell from on ; board one ol the United States’ vessels during a long eruisc; his body was happily recover ed, hut”— , “ May I inquire his name interuptnd He- i leu, in breathless haste, and unconsciously • rising from her chair. * ( “His name was Clarence Lee.” “And lost over,” the words died up on her lips, and she sunk hack insensible into her scat. The stranger started from his chair, threw offhis spectacles, mustacliiov, A light hair ami in an instant tho metamorposed | Clarence Lee was leaning over her chair, and i endeavoring to recall her to animation, by re peutcdlv pronouncing her name in liis own natural voice. Helen at length recovered,cast round a bewildered glance, and scarcely un billed she was in existence, when she Ik held ; her lover by her side. j “Am I not dreaming?” said site, reviving. “I should hope not,” said Clarence, sciz • ing her hand, aud eagerly pressing it lo his bosom. “I have put thy faith to a sad trial. , Helen, hut wilt tliou not forgive me when J i tell thee I was cruelly deceived by others 1 They told me tliou wert false to me, Helen, but this pledge of ttiy affection, (again dis playing the ringlet,) proves their words false, not thee, and tliut I meet the same fond, faith j ful heart I left two years ago.” i It is needless to remark that the stratagen ; was ready forgiven, and that Helen, soon af ! ter, at of Hymen, gave herself as j pledge of her love and faith to Clarence Lee. TIIE FORTUNE TELLER. On the Quay dc Soudrcs there lived an old • woman, who used to sell oranges during one > half the year, and pilchers during the other. Her best customers were the soldiers, to whom, besides her fruit and fish, she sold a notlicr kind of merchandize, viz. fortune-tel ling. Whether this old woman deceived her self, or only deceived others, I cannot pretend : to say, lint by all tho vagabonds of the Quay de Soudrcs, and by all the the foreign sol- I diers in the Police l-cgion, and the Legion of Alorua, she was looked u|ioii as icitck. ! One very wet and stormy evening, after the ! soldiers had almost all returned to their bar racks. a German, named Fritz K lump, pre sented himself to the old woman, who was 1 just preparing to shut up her hovel. Fritz ; was completely intoxicated. “ ‘Juana, Juana, I want you to tell me ivliat is going to liap|icn lo me—l have just killed a man—l found m company with inv sweatheart. lie was one of tne relic bearers —but that did not save him—l have made an end of him; —now our colonel does notlike those affairs—therefore good Juana, tell me what punishment awaits me.’ “‘I have nor. lime this evening,’ replied the old woman, who was not proba'iiy, not in clined to have anything to do with the busi-i I ness, ‘come back to-morrow.’ j “‘l cannot, you must tell me now, I must know what will be iny punishment be fore I return to tho barracks. If the colonel should be severe, I have a good pair of legs, ; and ( shall be off.’ ! ‘-During tins colloquy, several sailors and ] some of Kay’s soldiers had assembled round • the old woman's habitation- Some of the latter ' proposed throwing both the German and the witch into the Tagus. Fritz, asthaveal ) ready observed, bad been drinking, and on I hearing this became irritable, and, turning to the by-starders, he said : i “ Let any of you touch her at your peril, : and ifyou meddlu with me— snerementslterl — I have a care of yourselves. Come, Juana, |corne,’and ho staggered towards the old wo i man. “ ‘I srf.d before that I will tell you not'iing to-night. Leave me, or you f.i&ll ,*/■’ of this.’ “ ‘But T say that you shall tell rr.e,’ ex claimed Fritz, iu a passion, ‘and though von should be in league with the devil himself, I will have satisfao.; on of you both. “Oo bearing tl name of the devil, every Portuguese in t t group of bystanders crossed himself t , e times at least. Fear was stronger than- curiosity, and the grou > now retreated from the two Fritz advanced to Juana for the pu-* >ose of forcing her into the wretched hovel where she cooked her pilchers and delivered her ti rades. “ ‘Touch me not,’ she exclaimed,‘touch me not, or I say again you shall repent it.’ “Fritz replied only by an oath, and stag gered forward- The old woman stretched ou< her arm to defend herself, and she no sooner touched the soldier than he fell at her feet,as if struck by a thunderbolt. “On seeing this, the bystanders were, for a moment, petrified with terror. Juana her self was dismayed at what she had donet Fritz showed no signs of life, and it was nol until he had been bled, and after a lapse o. two hours, that be at length opened bis eyes- Howevcr, it would have been better for Juana bad he kept them closed ; for as soon as ho was able to speak, he declared that, just as ho was about to seize the old woman, be saw standing beside her, a tall bldcknian who had felled hi in to the ground with a club which lie had in his hand. The most singular part of the affair was, that Fritz was now perfectly sober, and In all tiie dim:rent interrogatories lie underwent, he never varied in his story. The result of this investigation was that poor Juana was confined in the blackest and deep cst dungeon of the inquisition.aud every prep aration Was being made to perform the second act of the ridiculous farce of the beggar us .Madrid and liis sympathetic powder, but luck ily for the poor old woman, she was saved by one of her neices, who as if by a sort of in spiration, thought of applying to Junot, for whom she one day w aited at the door, until ho came out to mount lus horse. The soldier, who had noW'got into the hands of tho monks, and whose brain was excited to a pitch of insani ty, positively insisted on the truth iu his first statement. Through an aberration of in tellect lie had well nigh become the murderer of the poor old woman, who was praying fur 1 pardon—though too late-.-to all the saints in Puradise, for having had dealings w ith tho i demons in hell. The real facts of the caso were these: Fritz, who could not stand very steadily, in attempting to walk on the muddy, slippery ground, lost his equilibrium on being touched by Juana. In fulling, bis bead struck agaiust a stone, and from this very in cident ensued all that 1 have just detailed. M. Magnien, who saw Fritz and examined nis bead, found that the contusion had pro duced considerable injury, and that it was, indeed, within an ace of being fatal. How ever, be firmly persisted in his hallucination, and never could be canvinced that poor Jui at was nothing more than an innocent vender ol oranges and pilchers. “ ‘She is a great magician,’ said lie. ‘I did wrong to offend her; but she lias punished me dearly for it.’ “This affair, which scarcely seems lo be long to the nineteenth century, was, thanks to our exertions, broui'lit to a less awful con clusion than the San Benito and the sulphured shirt • The Nuncio interested himself for old • Juana, and the poor creature was sent to a . convent at Viseu or Cuidad-Rodrigo.” THE TABLES TURNED. KKOM TUB WESTERN FREEMAN, SIIELBTVILLB TENN. MAV, 28. TO THE PUBLIC. Whereas inv husband Benjamin lias adver tised me as having left his bed and board—but as lie has no bed nor board, (lie having made over his property to his children with a view of starving m?,)he has now left me lo shift for inyself the second time. This is therefore to lorewarn all persons from harboring him, untill lie provides for maintenance, and gives security for that and liis good behaviour. To ill pood people who want* him descripted. To running away he hue long been eddieted ; He deserted his country, being scared at a ball, And ran home the greatest hero of all. For such service as obtained a pension. How well ha deserved it I need not mention ; But one thing for ali I needs must scknowledgs. He's the worst husband God ever made io my knowledge. SUSANNA t ARSON. Old Maids. —We never could, for the iifs of us, perceive why old maids should mani fest such a mortal antipathy to old bachelors. I There is no reason in their w rath. Tis spite ful, cruel, and uncalled for; the trampling on a reed already broken. It is abusing a man for the fault of liis destiny. It is like flog ging a cripple with his own crutches because he is lame. Few men are bachelors of their own free will. Go to the veriest misanthrope among them, and ask him of his history, and he will tell you of the unforgotten hours of his early affection; and his eye will light up again with its wonted energy, ns he relates the story of his love, for one who had perhaps proved faithless, or whose affections where re pressed by the rude hand of arbitrary authori ty, or who had gone down to the sieipingof the church-yard—a beautiful bud plucked from the tree of Being, to open and expand in a brighter -and holier sunshine, where no worm could gnaw at its bosom, and no blight ds'-.ei and upon it. Yalk not to us of the sorrow sos old maids! They are light as air in comparison to those of bachelors—the pangs of the small rain to the overwhelming of the deluge. Old maids can commune and mingle in the charities and kindly offices and sympathies of existence. It is not so with the bachelor. He has no home—he has no happy fireside—no child to ask his blessing—no beautiful creature of smiles dr gentle tones to welcome hiscoming and melt away the sternness of care with th<* warm kiss of .'flection, no patient nurse watch. < at his couch of sicknes stealing with a liush > and gentle step around him, like the visit* t.rn ofaspirit. True—his sorrows are some what of a negative character. But what is it aave positive agony for biin toJgaze >a |l his life long, upon the Paradise of Matrimony, like a half starved school boy upon the gas den whose enclosure he cannot scale ? Hartford Reriew. ; jpsr