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LITERARY PENPIELD, GEORGIA. oTXuuaay Odfomtup, 26, fsss. Jj. LINCOLN VEAZEY • - - KIJITOIL. “ Julian” must give a responsible name before “The Memory of the Past” can be published. This is our invariable rule. A young man or woman never did worse than to make up their minds to marry at all hazards and at all events. It is the next thing to suicide, to which it very often leads. Ihe following lines are no less true than beau tiful : “ Small service is true service while it lasts; Os all thy friends, though humble, scorn no one: I lie daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun.” When you enter a printing office, do not touch, and especially do not read any matter you may see in the compositor’s hands. This i3 the worst torm of bad manners. Take the paper, anti you will have it all in due season. — v We sincerely regret says the Montgomery Mail, to learn the death of Mr. John W. Talley, of Loachapoka, Macon county. lie died yesterday es cramp colic, after an illness of a few days. Mr. T. was a native of Greene county, Ga., and was about thirty-five years of age. Mr. William Allen Butler, the author of the popular poem, “Nothing to Wear,” has lately published another called “Two Millions.” It was delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa So ciety of Yale College at the late commencement, and is said fully to sustain his previously acquired 1 reputation. Take care how you flatter. A word of praise unfitly spoken may fill the head of your friend with vanity, and render him unworthy of your esteem. Many men have been caused to “ play fantistic tricks before high Heaven which made the angels weep,” by the encomia of the well meaning, but indiscreet. There are those whom it is alike inexpedient to praise and unjust to condemn. The September number ot Harper , the nonpa reil of monthlies, opens with a poem of several hundred lines, entitled “The Finishing School.” It is a faithful picture of those fraudulent hum bugs which afflict our country, and the moral which it is intended to teach should be impressed upon the mind of every parent. Besides this, the present number contains a richly varied table of contents, which will repay a perusal. The July number of the Edinhurg Review is on our table. It contains eleven essays, extending over a wide range of subjects. We have had an opportunity of reading only the first, on Hugh Miller; but there are a number of others which we would judge to be equally interesting. Ite published by L. Scott & Cos. New York, at $3 a year. Blackwood and the four Reviews, $lO. As this is the beginning of anew volume, it is a fa vorable time to subscribe. < Several of our religious exchanges, we observe, ‘ are engaged in a spirited discussion respecting polygamy—whether or not it is, in and of itself, a sin and condemned by the Bible. We cannot see that such a discussion can be productive of * 1 any good, and may result in much mischief. If the people should be convinced that polygamy is ‘ not condemned by the Holy Scriptures, all laws against it would soon be swept from our statute books. This is a result which we are assured neither of the parties in this controversy desire. 1 We see by our exchanges that a gentleman in ‘ Philadelphia has secured the capital prize of < „ ‘565,000 in Samuel Swan & Co.’s lottery, drawn at j Augusta, Georgia, on Saturday last, and thus re- < alized a large fortune at the risk of ten dollars. Yes, we have all heard of him, but who has ever heard his name? That is as scrupulously concealed as if the poor victim of fortune would have his modesty shocked by its revelation. We are as credulous as people need bo, but we must regard this sixty-five thousand doll.ir prize drawer as altogether a myth. Whether or not a man lias succeeded in life, is not determined by his having accumulate l pro perty or acquired fame. 11 does not even depend upon his having accomplished the end which he proposed. He may have done all which he aimed to do—may have “drank every draught of praise, heard every trump of fame,” and yet his life, in the sight of Heaven, have been an entire failure. History awards her praise or censure according •* to the decisions of frail, erring human reason; but there cometh a higher and wiser judge, in whose scales many whom the world has pro nounced great, will be found wanting. The inability of a wife to make bread lias been declared sufficient ground for divorce, by a Coun- M try Agricultural Society. When a few more grounds for divorce are found, all legal obligations upon the parties had best be removed, and the parties allowed to sep arate when they choose. Where will the matter end? Even when there are numerous opportu nities of being parted by regular course of law, wives and husbands are continually running away from each other. What, then, must be done? Shall the number of pleas on which divorces may be obtained, be increased? We move there be added to the list incompatibility of tempers, dis similarity of tastes, not being what they were taken for, the having worn false hair, false teeth or painted whiskers before marriage, general ex travagance, inability to still baby when crying, a fondness for admiring all beauty but that at hetne. ignorance of business, a love of quarreling and scratching, not staying at home, not visiting, not going to balls and watering places, not attend, ing church, not doing, saying, thinking and be ing what they should. 4 Some persons are blessed with the happy fa culty of looking at the bright side of everything. Nothing can depress them so low that they have not some elastic spring upon which to arise. If a cloud of misfortune descends upon them, it has somewhere a gleam of light to relieve its dark _ ness. Their eye 6 catch the brightest points of every prospect, and find the sweetest beauties in every landscape. Their happiness is not created or destroyed by external circumstances. 1 hey have within themselves a well-spring of joy, the waters of which gush forth perpetually and give •• animation to the soul when all without is dark i and frowning. It was this which sustained Ma- A dwjie Roland amid the damp dungeons of the ‘ Conciergerie, when everything on which a hope ’ could rest had been swept away, and the guillo tine awaited her with assured certainty. Her int&lect, though strong and vigorous, would not have borne her through these scenes of suftering and h#cror. Her pride would have been broken down by the indignities which she was compelled to endure. But a consciousness of her own rec titude, a firm faith in the justice of posterity, and a heart tutored alike for misfortune or prosperity made her a martyr and a heroine^ I mil ERE is, always has been, and always will be, | I X much of error in human thought and action. There are falsehoods which no logic will ever practically refute, wrongs which no tribunal will redress, and follies which will never be abandoned until they have lived out their course. The writer may pen brilliant paragraphs, the orator declaim eloquently, and the satirist ex pend bis bitterest sarcasms; but upon these fal lacies, wrongs and follies all will be of none ef fect. Many of the fine sentiments which are so current, and gain such universal admiration, pos sess no influence over men’s actions. They read finely in an essay, sound well in the popular ad dress, but their beauty and truthfulness is never shown forth in practical exemplification. It has been admitted from the remotest antiq uity that worth makes a man ; that if he be vir tuous, he is entitled to respect, whatever may be his circumstances. But where has this idea ever obtained in practice? Superior talents are ever able to overwhelm and crush moral excellence, however exalted. Genius and virtue, when com bined, may be not only unnoticed and uncared for, but trampled down by the condemnation of the powerful. Tyrants have lauded goodness at the very time they were leveling against it their direst persecutions. We need not search the re cords of martyrdom, or peruse the annals of re ligious bigotry to find instances in which those of righteous motives and correct intentions were made the victims of harsh cruelty, meiely because the/ were pure and good. Assert it as loudly as they can, and re-assert it as often as they may, men do not love virtue for her own sake. They adore her when she comes in splendor, arrayed in purple and fine linen ; when she is simple and unadorned, they loathe her presence and close tlieir ears to her teachings. It has always been an admitted fact, that a man is none the better because of his wealth, and that the splendid pageantry by which it can be sur rounded, cannot change or even hide an ignoble spirit. Again and again has the world seen heads that wore kingly crowns, bent on the accomplish ment of low, grovelling schemes of trickery which would have disgraced a mountebank. Many who have riches have accumulated them by fraud, injustice and legerdermain, and retain them by miserly meanness and oppression of the poor. Mankind have seen all this, not without a secret feeling of exultation at the follies and failings of the great. Yet, men are honored for their wealth who have no other claim to respect. There are those in all communities who receive the most flattering marks of distinction, who, were it not j for their money, would bo driven from society | with the execrations which they richly deserve. | The Bible assures us that all wordly hopes, as- j pirations and pursuits are insignificant when | compared with the interest of the soul, and most ! persons assent to the doctrine. Yet, men do not live as if this was their belief. They toil as eagerly for the trifles of an hour as if their pres ent state of existence was to be eternal, and no grave awaited them. They wear out their bodies and forget tlieir souls to gather up a little glitter ing dust to be squandered by idle spendthrifts. They arduously strive for praise which dies with the breath that speaks it, or, at best, only occu pies a space in some ephemeral newspaper, or a page in a worm-eaten book. Professedly, the glory of God is the only object for which they strive, but really, their own honor and aggran dizement are the ends of tlieir ambition. A day or two of fevered excitement at wide intervals, and perhaps even then, produced by sickness or the fear of death, are the only times when religion is their chief concern. They have not, like the fool, said in tlieir hearts that there is no God, but they act as if they did not believe in his exis tence. Such is the conduct, not of one alone, or of a few, but of a half, perhaps a majority, in all Christian lands. The scrupulous compliance which is made to all the requirements of fashion is condemned universally, and her servile followers denounced for tlieir folly. Bui who are not her subjects? Some arc much more abject in their homage than others, but there are none who do not submit to inconveniences in order to obey her dictates. Some for this will squander tlieir money, ruin tlieir bodies and destroy their souls. At Fash ion’s bidding, woman will assume any shape, from the ghostly slimness to the swelling fulness of a ship when every inch of canvass is spread to the wind. One part of their bodies they will pad to the requisite size, another compress to the most wasp-like smallness, and voluntarily reduce them selves almost to the condition of having “noth ing to wear.” By her commands, men will sur mount their heads with ornaments that look like moving “ towers of Pisa,” insert tlieir limbs into garments that threaten rupture at the bending of every joint, or sport coats which make their wearers walking burlesques upon the noble fowl from which they take tlieir name. All these are absurdities, confessedly so; but you would as soon batter the walls of Gibraltar with peas and pop-guns, as d.ive out these follies by reason, rid icule or sarcasm. You could not in all this land find one man that lays claim to common sense who will dress as he pleases, despite the reigning fashion. Such are some of the discrepancies which exist between practice and theory, which we never hope to see reconciled. We might increase the length indefinitely; hut we forbear. They are inconsistences, it is true, and some of them pain ful to contemplate; but they are not without palliation. Many of them are almost unavoida bly incident to the infirmity of our nature, and only here and there does one rise superior to them, and exhibit a higher style of manhood. Happy, indeed, would it be for the world if noth ing worse were ever found in man that these in consistences which are so near common to us all. Washington's Family Bible.— -The agent of the Nashville Bible Society, Mr. I’. M. Hawkins, has recently been distributing Bibles in Macon Cos. Tennessee, and while travelling through the county, met with the old family Bible that found a place in Gen. Washington’s chamber. I took it in my hands and examined it care fully, after which I read the 19th Psalm in family worship. I then asked the brother to tell me how he came in possession of it. He said that at the General’s death his neice fell heir to the Bible. Previous to leaving Virginia, her son was taken sick and died, lie waited on him until death. The old lady told him that she was get ting old and must soon die, and that she had nothing to give him for waiting on her son save the old family Bible. He gladly received it and brought it to” Tennessee with him on horseback. He told me that he would not take three thovs and dollars for it. The gentleman lives in the town of LaFayette, Macon Cos. and his name is Col. Claiborne. You can’t begin to imagine how I felt while turning over its leaves. I really felt and thought that 1 had found a precious jewel. It appeared to me that I would have given any price for it. Ax Old Fashioned Mother. —Ah, how much meaning is comprised in that simple expression, the old fashioned mother ! It Carrie's our thoughts back to those women whose home influence was pure and elevating; who taught their daughters to render themselves blessings -to society, by their goodness, their dilligence and their useful knowl edge. We think of the lofty heroism, the brave endurance, the thousand virtues they inculcated and sigh at the contrast between the past and the present. How few modern mothers understand or perform their duty in training their children. A smattering of this, that, and the other is com sidered quite sufficient education, and to show on to advantage is niade the great business of life. No wonder there are so many desolate firesides, so many unhappy wives, so many drinking, gambling I husbands. ! Experience is like the stern-lights of a ship that only serve to illumine the path passed over.—Coi.ekidge MANY men learn theoretical wisdom by ex perience ; a few learn it practically. The old mariner with bleached locks and frame worn down by hard toil, would give the young adven turer instructive lessons for the guidance of his course. He would tell him where the quick sands lay, point out the breakers, and direct him where his keel could plow the waves with safety. Yet, should he again launch upon the deep, he would, in all probability, neglect the advice which he had given others, and run upon the very rock upon which he had been previously stranded. While another stirs, he may point out the dan gers which lie on either hand—may tell how Scylla may be shunned and Charybdis avoided ; but when his own hand holds the helm, he for gets, amid the excitement of the scene, those wise precautions which his experience should suggest. So with men of every calling. The merchant who speculates wildly and becomes a bankrupt, and then accumulates a second fortune, will, if the temptation be offered, commit the same folly again. When the tide of fortune floats his bark, he flings away the chart which experience had marked out, and ventures again boldly upon the sea of trade. The politician who has passed through a long career of public service and ex perienced all the incident changes, will yet, time after time, trust his fate to a vacillating and un grateful people. So alluring does the bait be come, that a failure only serves to draw them on to another attempt. Experience does teach, and by the young who seek not to guide themselves by reason, her les sons are received with profit. The child who is burned by touching a coal of fire, will carefully avoid doing the like for the future. It is thus that in childhood and early youth we learn what we may, and what we may not do. But as we grow older, we become less impressible to the teachings of experience. We apply to reason to direct our course, which, though undoubtedly a higher faculty, is always more erring than in stinct. We eagerly follow in the wake of others, disregarding the light which our own previous history would throw upon our path. A misfor tune to-day should vender us less liable to the same misfortune to-morrow; but most peisons are hardened or heart-broken by adversity, and few find in it that jewel which makes its uses sweet. Yes, experience is like the stern-lights of a ship: it may throw a beacon blaze to those who follow, but the rays which it casts ahead are dim and glimmering. WOMAN AND ROMAN CATHOLICISM. WE are too much disposed to look upon the Roman Catholic religion as being evil in all its influences and tendencies. Convinced of the erroneousness of its doctrines, and the absurdity of its pretensions, we are liable to forget the ser vice it did for science and literature during the Dark Ages, when Vandalism had swept over Eu rope. An English reviewer thus remarks upon the benefits which it conferred on woman, and the position which she occupied in ages and coun tries where it was supreme: The general condition of the female sex was decidedly inferior in Protestant, to that which she enjoyed in Catholic lands. Luther, in de claring that woman’s sole vocation was marriage —that in that, and that only, was she performing the part assigned her by Providence—had des stroyed the halo with which virgin chastity had once encircled her brow. Catholicism had raised her to the rank of saint; it had inscribed her on the list of martyrs ; it had given her a place amid the hierarchy; it had brought her into immedi ate contact with the supreme head of the Church. To those whom choice or necessity hindered from entering the bonds of matrimony, it had opened another career—that of the recluse—the sister of charity ; it had presented another assylum—that of the convent; a career contrary, in leed, to all our natural instincts, full of self-denial and pri vation, but promising truly or falsely an immor tality of blisi hereafter—an asylum sad and gloomy, but calm, tranquil and secure —a life of privation, but devoted to an end sufficient to atone for every suffering, the relief ot the sick, the helpless and the destitute. Os all this the Reformation at once deprived her. It narrowed her influence, it lowered her sphere, it confinred her place to the daily round of domestic joys and sorrows. Catholicism, in the person of Mary, had invested her with almost divine attributes ; it had represented her as the interessor between the Savior and mankind—as the incarnation of the highest purity, of the loftiest philanthropy; and even those who repudiate such doctrines freely recognise the powerful influence they must have exercised in elevating and hallowing the whole sex. In the annals of the principal cities of Italy, we find women occupying the chair of the pro fessor—not of modern tongues, not of music and drawing, but of Greek, Datin, Hebrew, Mathe matics and Astronomy. We find them deliver ing lectures in public to crowded and admiring audiences; we see them admitted members of learned societies, and addressed by the most sci entific men on terms of equality. • et, it is doubtful whether the far-famed Novella was a better Greek scholar than Mrs. Browning; or Maria Porcia Yignoli, whose statue long adorned the market-place of Viterbo, more learned in Natural Sciences than Mrs. Somerville. A Frenchman has written a work of fiction, “ The Romance of a Mummy,” of which the plot is laid in the times of the Pharaohs. An English nobleman, while travelling in the East, discovers a tomb which had never been opened, and by the payment of a liberal sum to an Arab chief? effects and entrance. They there find the mum my of a young female, whose royal rank was pro ven by its presence in the tomb of kings. Hav ing conveyed it on board their vessel, the wrap pers are unrolled and a papyrus scroll is found between the arm and side. This, having been deciphered after several years of study, proves to be the history of an Egyptian princess, the consort of the Pharaoh who was swallowed up in the Red Sea at the time of the Jewish exodus. This, told in autobiographical style, forms the body of the story. This attempt to describe the domestic scenes and portray the manners and customs of people who lived three thousand years ago, and of whom every thingis now lost but a few mummies and ruins, is certainly a bold one, but the British Reviews speak of it as not being a failure. Many people are heard to doubt whether, in any event, the submarine telegraph would be of any great benefit. Here is a case in point: On flie 18th of June, 1812, our government de clared war against Great Britain. We had many causes of complaint against Great Britain; but one of the most prominent and palpable was based on her orders in Council, by which our trade with the continent had been most outrageously har rassed and crippled. The orders in Council had been repealed before we declared war, though the fact was unknown, unsuspected here. Had it been known—in other words, had the Atlantic telegraph then existed—it is quite probable, says the New York Tribune, that war would not have been declared, that further negotiations would have been had, and an amicable redress of griev ances attained, saving to each country thousands of precious lives and hundreds ol millions of dol lars. What has been, may again be. Kind words are looked upon like jewels on the breast, never to be forgotten, and perhaps to cheer, by their memory,, a long, sad life; while words of cruelty or of carelessness, are like swords in the bosom, wounding and leaving scars which will be borne to the grave by their victim. ‘lt is extremely disagreable to me, madam,’ said an ill-natured fellow, ‘to tell you unpleasant truths.’ ‘I have no doubt sir, that it is extremely disa greable for you to tell truths of any sort.’ A FEMALE WARRIOR and artist. The powers of the pen and sword are not unfre quen tly contrasted; but the following sketch which we find in the Westminster Review, is, we believe, the only instance on record in which skill in the use of warlike weapons and of the pencil were found united in the same person, and that per son a woman: Onorata’ Rudiano wielded at once the pencil and the warrior’s sword. She is quite a personage of romance, and we are surprised that she has never figured in novel or poetry. In her 23rd year, she had already attained so great a reputa tion for artistic skill that Gabrino Fondolo, tyrant of Cremona, comitted to her care the adornment of his palace. Onorata would willing ly have declined this equivocal honor, but the Marquis would listen to no refusal; and to excite the anger of a man at once so vindictive and so unscrupulous was too fearful a risk. Onorata was not destined to labor long in the service of Fondolo. One day, while occupied in painting the walls of one of the apartments, a courtier notorious for his dissipated habits, en tered the room, and offered some unjustifiable lib erties. The young artist indignantly repulsed him, and on his returning to the charge, she seized a dagger she always wore concealed in her boddice and stabbed him to the heart; then rushing from the palace, disguised herself in man’s attire i and fled to the mountains,‘'declaring she would rather perish in exile and a wanderer, but pure and untainted, than enjoy splendor and honor at home. The Marquis was furious; he sent soldiers in every direction in pursuit, with orders to bring her back alive or dead; but unable to find the place of her retreat, and finding no one capable of completing her labors, he promised full and and entire pardon on condition of her instant re turn. Onorata, however, had effected her escape from his dominions. Retaining her disguise, she obtained admittance into one of the companies of Condottieri then infesting Italy, and by her courage and conduct soon rose to the post of can tain. Her warlike spirit delighted in the inde pendence and excitement of her new career; she refused to abandon it, and continued to fight and paint alternately for thirty years. In 1472, her native town, Castellione, was besieged by the Ve netians. Onorata, at the head of her company, flew to its relief; she forced the enimy to raise the siege, but was mortally wounded in the con flict, and died a few days later. IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. llow dark, how cheerless is that philosophy which denies to man his immortality, and writes upon his grave-stone, “Death is an eternal sleep!” llow chilling the thought that when I am done with earth, my very life must die ! In what terri ble darkness does it enshroud the tomb, and all the unknown beyond; and how ill does it accord with the deep, inherent sympathies of humanity. Cold philosophy may beget doubts and fears; hu man reason may lose itself in daring unguided wan derings, but deep in the soul is an undying prin ciple which tells of an unending, unfelt desti ny. > “ O, listen, man! A voice within us speaks that startling word, Man, thou shah never die !* Celestial voices Hymn it unto our souls; according harps, By Angel fingers touched,when the mild stars Os morning sang together, sound forth still, The song of immortality.” * But it is in the hour of sorrow and gloom that the heart most earnestly yearns after another life. And “as the ivy to the oak clings closest in the storm,” so, in the hour of his sorest trial, does man cling closest to his hopes of a life yet to come. And as his earthly night grows darker, so do his hopes grow stronger, that after the night then cometh the morning. But these hopes of Hea ven, which buoy up the soul, mid the waves of trouble and sorrow, are to the Chnstain alone, “both sure and steadfast.” And O, what a glory rests over the true believer’s grave, and how clear and radiant does faith make all the way beyond ! 11 is said that the caged eagle, when a storm comes on, beats violently against the sides of his prison as he longs to be free; that with unfurled wings, he may soar above the clouds into the calm sun shine beyond. So, in the troubles and storms of life, the soul of the Christian, like the eagle, strug gles to free itself from its earthly prison-house, that it may rise superior to the ills of Time, and bask in the empyrian of God. Oh! no, man— immortal man —was never born to die! there is for him a higher, nobler life than this. “Let not thy heart within thee sink ! Another doom, brother, hath set its promise in thine eye; A light there is there too quenchless for the tomb, Bright earnest of a nobler desiiny.” Oxford. —National American. Ex**. LAYMAN BEECHER’S COURTSHIP. An eminent divine, who is as well known as he is universally respected, many years since was led to the conclusion that “it is not well for a man to be alone.” After considerable pondering, he resolved to offer himself in marriage to a certain member of his flock. No sooner was the resolu tion formed than it was put in practice, and get ting out his cane, he speedily reached the dwell ing of his mistress. It chanced to be on Monday morning, a day which many New England read” ets need not be told is better known in the house as washing day. Unconscious of the honor that was intended her, the lady was standing behind the tub in the back kitchen, with her arms im mersed in the suds, busily engaged in an occupa tion which, to say the least of it, is more useful than romantic. There was a loud knock at the door. “Jane, go to the door, and if it is anybody to see me, tell them that I am engaged and can not see them.” The message was faithfully re hearsed. “Tell your mistress,” said Parson B. “ that it is very important that I should see her.” “Tell him to call this afternoon,” said the lady, “and I will see him.” But it was unavailing. “I must see her now,” said the minister. “Tell me where she is.” So saying, he followed the servant into the kitchen, to the great surprise of her mistress. “ Miss , I have come to the conclusion to marry; will you have me?” was the minister’s opening speech. “ Have you ?” replied the astonished lady. This is a singular time to offer yourself. Such an important step should be made a matter of prayer and deliberation.” “Let us pray!” was Mr. B’s only response, as he knelt down beside the tub and prayed that a union might be formed which would enhance the happiness of both parties. Ilis prayer was an swered, and from this union, thus singularly formed, has sprang a family remarkable for tal ent anti piety. • m ii DIFFERENCE IN WIVES. Two weeks since, we were riding in the cars, when a gentleman came and spoke to a lady di rectly in front of us, who was seated beside a sick ly man whom we thought was her husband. The conversation turned upon the health of her com panion, who was evidently a consumptive. “Last winter,” said she, “I went to Kansas with him. The winter before we spent in Florida; and now we are thinking of removing to Wisconsin, or Minnesota, for the benefit of his health.” The gentleman exspressed some thoughts relative to her hardships in thus going away from her home and friends, traveling so much abroad. “Oh!” the replied, “I do not mind that at all, if lie can only regain his health. I like New England bet ter than any other part of the country, for it is home ; but I am willing to live anywhere for his sake.” Her husband made no remark as he heard these words, but volumes were in his ej T es. The incident, however, did not particularly im press us, until we stopped at a station, about an hour afterwards. Then a friend entered the car and took a seat by our side. He was troubled with a bronchial, and lung difficulty, of some years standing. In course of conversation, we recom mended a residence in a certain Western State, to which he replied, in substance, “I should have been there months ago, if my wife had been wil ling to go. But all her friends are here in Massa chusetts, and no consideration could induce her to leave for a residence so far away.” We looked at once at the stranger-woman, whose conversa tion wo have cited. “Noble wifel” we said. “One of a thousand, doubtless, in this spirit of self denial for her husband's sake.” There is certain ly a great difference between these two wives. Happy Home. The Mohammedans say that oUe hour of justice is worth 70 years of prayer. 1 lie total amount of gold coined at the Branch Mint, California, for the week ending July 10th, was 39,803 ounces or $750,000. the Albany Central railroad on the sth of Au gust* declared the usual 4 per cent, dividend, pay able at the usual time and place. ~ * Brown, why do you wear that bad hat?” Because, my dear sir, Mrs. Brown says she will not go out of the house with me until I get anew one.” & To kill bedbugs, take corrosive sublimate, and daub it all over your bedstead; then burn your beads tend and clothing, and move into another house. The Boston Traveller says that Jared Sparks, just returned from Europe has gathered fresh materials with which to enrich the history on which he is engaged. Richard Barett, just elected to Congress from St. Louis, is thirty-eight years old, and one of the handsomest men in the United States. lie is married. “Here’s Webster on a bridge,” said Mrs. Parting ton, as she handed Ike the; dictionary. “Study it contentively, and you will gain a great deal of inflammation.” An old lady of Tuscumbia, Ala., offers a reward of $20,000 to any lady, not over 17 years of age, who is willing to live in the capacity of an adopted daughter with her. Col. W. W. Strapp appointed consul to Pernambu co, in Brazil, left Louisville Kentucky, on the3oth ult., en route for his new home, to assume the du ties of his consulship. A Western editor closes a pretty long article by saying, “We have no rum for further remarks to day.” lie had better.send out and get some, if he can’t manage to write without it. . • A foolish girl of twenty married one of the Sioux Chiefs, recently, at Washington. When she reached his princely wigwam, she found it a mud hovel occupied by two other wives! Anthony Burns, the celebrated fugitive slave, who elicited a few years ago, so much sympathy from Boston Abolitionists is nowin the Massachu setts penitentiary for the crime oi robbery. Lola Montez is writing a history of the Cosmetics which have been in every ago of the world. Our lady friends will, perhaps, be interested in the perusal of this book, and look for it with im patience. Quaint old Fuller says, “Let 3dm who expects one class of society to prosper in the highest de gree, while the other is in distress, try whether one side of his face can smile while the other is pinched.” The Oxford, Miss., Mercury, tells of an old bach elor in its neighborhood, worth $150,000, who re cently found anew born female babe hanging at his gate. He has adopted it, and given it the name of “Eureka Gate.” “ I hope to live to see the day,” said Lord Brougham, “when every peasant in England can understand Bacon.” “Wouldn’t it be better that they had a little bacon first?” replied Cobbett. Both would be good. The gifted editor of the Charleston Courier has pubished a series of numbers on “The Marion Family and the Widow of General Marion,” which will appear in the fortli-coming portion of Ban croft’s History of United States. The Baron Steuben Monument movement is spreading over the large cities of the country, and preparations are making by the Germans of Bal timore and Philadelphia, in the way of celebra tions for the beneflt of this fund. A recent official publication in England shows that the duty upon Tobacco lias in a single year yielded a revenue oi millions of dollars ! In London alone the duty received amounted to more than ten millions and a half of dollars. A company of Swiss is now being made up in New York to form a colony in Western Virginia. They have been offered 10,000 acres, at $1,25 per acre, and intend sending a commissioner out to make an examination of the tract. “Blessed is he,” sayelh the I’>ook of Mormon, “who blovveth his own liovn ; for whoso bloweth not liis own horn, the same shall not beblowed.” Likewise: “Whoso bloweth his own horn, the same shall be blowed with a vengeance.” A Bostonian, travelling in Europe, was not al lowed to visit Naples because, itisstated, liis name was among the subscribers to the cannon pre sented by citizens of Boston to Sardinia last year. King Bomba keeps close watch, it must be con fessed. The return of the Emperor of Russia to St. Pe tersburg from Areliangle was accompanied by the publicat ion of a ukase restoring to the Bible Socie ties the privileges they formerly possessed, but of which they were deprived by the late Emperor Nicholas. Columbus, Kentucky, is a hard place. An ckl farmer, who had been badly swindled there, said of it: If the angel Gaoriel happens to light at Columbus, there’ll be no resurrection, for they’ll swindle him out of liis trumpet before lie can make a single toot! Last week a little son of Judge Donalson, in Montezuma, Indiana, was bitten on the arm by a spider, while sleeping in a cradle. The arm swelled rapidly, inflammation spread to other parts of the body, and the second day after the injury the child died. The question has been asked, would a pin the first week and doubled every week for a year load the Leviathan? Allowing thirty pins to the ounce, it would load two hundred and thirty eight vessels carrying 22,000 tons each, which is the tonnage of the Leviathan. The Mayor of Boston has received a letter from the Turkish Minister of Foreign Affairs, thanking the citizens of Boston, in the name of the Sultan, for the generous hospitallity which they extended to the Rear Admiral Mohammed Pasha during his late visit to that city. The Bombay Geographical Society announces, in tlieir proceedings, that they have received a specimen of the walking leaf, from Java, with escs and young : and, wliat seems more curious still, a walking flower, described as a creature with a white body, pink spots and crimson bor der. A farmer who had employed a green Emeralder, ordered him to give liis mule some corn in the ear. On his coming in, the farmer asked: “Well, Pat, did you give the corn ?” “To be sure I did.” “How did you give it?” “And sureasye told me, in the ear.” “Well.yez see, thecraythur would’nt. liould still, and switching his ears about so 1 couldn’t git above a fistfull in both ears.” A Quaker who had his broad brimmed hat blown off by the wind, chased it. for a long time \\ith fruitless and very ridiculous zeal. At last, seeing a roguish-looking boy laughing at his dis aster, he said to him: “ Art thee a profane lad ?” The youngster replied that he sometimes done a little in that way. “Then/’ said he, taking a half dollar from his pocket, “thee may damn yon der fleeing hat fifty cents worth.” Earthi.v Glory.—The plaudits of earthly glory will die in an echo, the laurel wreath will fade, and the withered blossoms drop from the browot the conquerer; but he who, like Howard lays the foundation of his fame in the throbbing hear o humanity, is carving out for himself a nan * e , . shall survive the conflagration of worlds, an • ring through the amaranthine bowers 0 1 . ring tl,e endless ages of eten.it,V, ‘’ .Mel’which powers of your mind in the pursuit o n must burst as soon as touched. Tub Stars —lt is the opinion of^astronome 1 s^t there are stars so lnmtneJlv ten • m jpi ons ted at the distance of twe \e .. , which trav of miles from our caHh: miles els with the of years in a mmute, would requi t orbs t<) our own !lVhaeX>S“> Who should record the f mutations of such a star would be le S’* <* the present day,but that !, wh took place two millions of years gone by. The nearest, P a Centauri, one of the brightest stars bi the southern hemisphere, is at twenty-one bil- Rois o?Sues distance-that is, its light would require three years and a quarter to reach us. The second, 61 Cygni is not newer than sixty three billions of miles off, and its light requires upwards of ten years to reach us. A COIJIVtItV tOTTACE. [The following is a pretty peep of a country cottage, the praiseworthy certainty of the last line making a homely but not inapt termination,] The stream ripples bright by my cottage; The sunshine is origin on the stream ; And the wee pebbly stones in the sunshine, Like diamonds sparkle and gleam. There are hazel trees kissing the water, And plumes of the fair meadow-sweet; And down by the hazels sit 9 Jeame, And dabbles her little white feet. The robin peeps in at my door way; The linnet looks down from the tree; And here, pillowed up in his cradle, Wee Sunday sits smilingat me. My milk-pail stands bright in the corner, My tins are all bright on the shell; And the white supper-cloth on my table Is clean, for 1 washed it myself! THE PROUDEST LADY. BY T. WESTWOOD. The queen is proud on her throne, And proud are her maids so fine; But the proudest lady that cverwas known Is a little lady of mine. And “oh ! she limits me, she flouts me, And spurns, and scorns, and scouts me ; Though I drop on my knee and sue for grace, And|bcg,Jand beseech, with the saddest face, ’ Still ever the same she doubts me. ’ She is twenty by the calendar— A lilly’s almost as tall; But oh ! this lady’s by far The proudest lady of all. It’s her sport and pleasure to flout me, To spurn, and scorn, and scout me; But ah 1 I’ve a notion it’s naught but play, That, say what she will, and feign what she may, She can’t well do without me. When [she rides on her nag away, By park,’and road, and river, In a little hat so jaunty and gay, Oh then she’s prouder than ever ! And oh! what faces, what faces! What petulant, pert grimaces ! Why, the very pony prances and winks, And tosses his head, and plainly thinks He may ape her airs and graces. But at times, like a pleasant tune, A sweeter mood o’ertakes her; Oh ! then she’s sunny as skies in June, Ar.d all her pride forsakes her. Oh she dances round me so fairly ! Oh ! her laugh rines out so rarely! She coaxes and nestles, and looks and pries, In my puzzled face with her two bright eyes, And says, “I love you dearly !” Oh ! the queen is proud on her throne, And proud are her maids so fine; But the proudest lady that ever was known Is that little lady of mine. Good lack ! how she teases and flouts me, And spurns, and scorns, and 9couts me; But ah ! I’ve a notion its nought but play, That say what she will, and feign what she may, She can’t well do without me. LITERARY MEN’S WIVES. The newspapers take a profound interest at pres in the troubles of Sir Edward Bulwer and Mr. Dickens, by reason of those two distinguished persons having been afflicted with unsympathetic wives. Their case was certainly hard. What is an author to do when (as was the case as with Mr. Dickens,) the wife of his very bosom, to whom he reads his works in manuscript, will fall asleep under his finest passages? when she can hardly refrain from laughter at his pathos, and when his humorous touches go near to make her cry? Is this the love, honor and obedience that she vowed to him at the altar ? Is it not an incompatibility ? And we put it to any reader of sensibility wheth er there is any adequate remedy save divorce a mensa et thoro. As for Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, orLytton Bul wer, his grievances have been, if anything, even harder to bear. He makes a parliamentary effort, abounding with his most philosophic sentences and his vixen of a wife absolutely sneers at it. “What man or member could do less than Sir Edward did —strike her in the face? Under the same roof they must abide no longer; but even separation does not entirely protect Sir Edward. For years she taunts and lampoons and ridicules him; and at last on a high and solemn day, when as a minister of his soverign, he appers before his constituents and po litical friends, she absolutely comes forward among the crowd and—looks at him. A cat, indeed, may look at a king; but for an offending wife whom one has felt it his duty to thrash to thrust herself in amongst an admiring multitude and hold up be fore a prosperous statesman, moralist and philoso her, the very face which he had pounded—was too much. Nothing but a private mad-house, aa it appears to us —shaving the head and copious shower-baths—could properly discipline that lady. To a private mad-house, accordingly she was sent to meditate there at leisure upon the duties of an author’s wife. These stories have a moral which some writers diligently treasure up and illustrate. The moral is, that “men of genius” are peculiarly liable to this species of trouble. Milton, Byron, Shelley, Edgar Poe —none of them found it possibble to live with their own wives, though with other men's wives, some of them could endure life for a time. It thus becomes a prima facie proof that a gentle man is a “man of genius” when he quarrels with his wife; it would be out of all rule if a truly lit erary man could find a sympathetic heart in that domestic relation ; and as we have in this country great numbers of authors and literary celebrities, they will naturally feel that to complete their character, they had better all abandon their wives. They can complicate the transaction (to avoid monotony) with some of those dramatic and thril ling incidents which they so well know how to get up. Thus they can make their lives sublime, and create a personal interest that will sell their next hook. In this way each of them can become not only a romance-writer or poet, but himself a living Romance, a Fiction that walks, a Poem that drinks juleps. This is the moral.— Southern Citi zen. A Hit at tiie Lawyers.— Judge Jones of , Indiana, who never allows a chance for a joke to pass him, occupied the bench when it became necessary to obtain a juryman in a case in which L and B were employed as counsel. The former was anhlliterate llibernian,|tlie latter decidedly German in his modes of expression. The sheriff’ proceeded to look round the room in search of a person to fill the vacant seat, when he espied a Dutch Jew and claimed him as his own. The Dutchman objected: “I can’t unsthand goot Englese.” “What did he say?” said the Judge. “I can’t unsthand goot Englese,” he repeated. “Take your seat,” cried the Judge, “take your seat, that’s no excuse ; you’re not likely to hear any of it!” Under that decision lie took his seat. . A Philanthropist. —Some few years ago. Dou glas Jerrold ordered a brougham. On going to bis coachmaker’s to look at it before it “' as home, he spoke highly of its beauty an * especially of the mirror-like glossing of the var ni b “Ah” said the wit, “it is unfleckea oy a speck now, but those back panels their share of scratches from tbe.saucy .urchi^ jvho indulge Se eoachbuilder, -a „ thousand scratches on my carnage Sr; one on the hand of a footsore lad to whom a stolen lift might ben godsend. Thf Hopr-G lass.— Coming hastily into a cham ber 1 had almost thrown down a crystal hour pear lest I had broken it made me grieve a if I had But, alas! how much precious time hare I cast away without any regret. The hour <fl iss was but crystal, each hour a pearl; that but like to be broken, this lost outright, that but casually, this done wilfully; a better hour-glass might ’ be bought, but time once lost, is lost ever. Thus we grieve more for toys than for treasure. Lord, give me an hour-glass, not to be by me, but to be in me. Teach me to number my days. An hour-glass to turn me that I may apply my heart unto wisdom. — Dr Thomas Fuller. Ennui is a French word for an English and American malady, which generally arises from the want of a want, and constitutes the complaint of those who have nothing to complain of. When this ugly Goliath haunts the mind, he is to be subdued only by exertion and occupation. “Throw but a stone, the giant dies.” Authors have too much to do with printers’ devils to be annoyed with blue devil. They may infliot ennui, but they seldom suffer it. No exorcism for the spleen ana the vapors like that of the Muse. When Bellero phon went forth to conquer the Chimwra, he mounted Pegasus.