Newspaper Page Text
secs, by the cold, grey light of dawning
reason, the rough realities of the future,
l.ike our first parents, driven from the gar
den of Eden, “all the world before him
lay.” But, had he taken Providence as
his guide'! In the sunshine of prosperity,
he had forgotten its guiding cloud, and its
pillar of fire went not before hinf to illu
mine the daikncss of his destiny. And
very dark that destiny now looked to him.
He was so young and inexperienced—only
nineteen —what could he do ! He never
once thought of resorting to the stage.
His mind, by a powerful reaction, was now
ns much repelled from that course of life as
it had once been attracted. 11c loathed
the very thought of it. Where should he
go ! Uncaring whither, he decided to di
rect his course to Virginia, lie had a Col
lege friend, who lived beyond the Allegha
nies, and possibly, through him, he might
learn of some employment—a private tutor
ship, perhaps. Poor fellow ! He had never
learned to govern himself--how could he
discipline the young minds of others!
But Claude resolved to earn his bread by
honorable industry, or perish. He looked
back with shame upon his life of self
indulgence and vanity. lie felt that he
had lived in vain. High and noble
thoughts, born of adversity, began to spring
up and flourish jn his bosom. He felt
wise, better, stronger. Great trials either
elevate and purify, or crush and sink the
charactei of man. Happy they, who, like
Claude, have an elastic principle within,
hat rebounds from the pressure that thre;%
ened to weigh it down to dust.
We will not follow the young and deep
ly reflecting wanderer through all the
windings of his way; but we will stop
with him, at the foot of one of the heaven
ascending Alleghanies, and see who lies by
■ hat broken, over-turned carriage. Such
a rough, precipitous, dizzying road—it
■s no wonder there should he runaway
horses, broken hones and bruised limbs.
Claude had jumped from the stage, as
he often did, incapable of such long inac
tion in his present restless and struggling
mood, and was leaping down the craggy
mountain-path. The sight of the shattered
vehicle, the groans of the man, who was
lying partly under the ruins, arrested his
!eps. The sulkier was an aged man,
with hair of snowy whiteness, and features
which, in repose, must have expressed be
nevolence and benignity; but now they
were distorted with pain, and, from his pal
lid complexion and ashy lips, it was evi
dent he was sinking beneath the weight of
his sufferings Claude, seeing a silver cup.
seized it and ran to a clear spring, that
gurgled within a few feet of the travelers,
leautiful springs there are welling at the
: >ot of these great mountains. He bathed
the forehead and lips of the aged sufferer,
raising his bend gently cm his arm, ivvr.t
■ nootliing back the white locks, all soiled
with dust.
The stranger, restored to consciousness,
opened his eyes, and, beholding a counten
ance so young, so beautiful, socompassion
; !e, bending over him, he almost imagined
*:i angel had been sent down to his relief.
. aning on his elbow, he endeavored to
■ sc, but fell back again with a deep groan.
One of his limbs was broken, and it was
ident he had received some dreadful in-
. ‘rnal injury. Clau.lb felt that, alone, he
. uhl not assist the disabled stranger. A
louse stood at a little distance, alog-cabtn,
. here the stage was accustomed to stop.
. s first thought was to run to the cabin,
■ ‘l.l procure assistance—the next to await
e coming of the stage, whose course he
! nl anticipated, and which, in its thunder
g passage down the hill, might overlook
ie helpless traveler, unless warned of his
luation. He acted on this last thought,
id. with the assistance of the other pas
■ngers, the sufferer was removed to the
ibin. Pitiable was the situation of the
■ i ;ed sufferer. He was unaccompanied by
: iends; it was impossible to procure a
rgeon, without sending to a great dis
. r.ce in those lone mountain regions, and
Pic house to which he was carried could
arcely furnish him the comforts wanting
. health. How much more must he feel
■ destitution in his present helpless, suf
i ring, almost dying condition !
Claude sat by the rude couch, on which
: • was placed, holding a glass of wine,
i iiich. ever and anon, he applied to his
• is, trying to cheer him by kind and e
. uraging words. He told him that a mes
;igor had been dispatched fora surgeon,
. id that he would remain with him till all
i anger was past.
“ But the stage is already at the door,”
taid the old man feebly, “and you must
• part. 1 cannot take advantage of your
kindness to a stranger.”
But Claude would not leave him. The
ige-horn blew loud and musically—the
ssengers hurried to their seats—the dri
r vociferated that all was ready, and still
• nude held the old man's hand and refu
-Ito depart. The heart of the banished
nth yearned towards the venerable stran
r. New feelings were awakened within
in. It was the first time he bad wit
ssed human suffering, and he knew not,
1 this moment, what a deep fountain of
ty lay in the unexplored reg:<Jns of his
ait. But the angel had stepped into the
. 01, and the waters were troubled. Mr.
iontague, (such was the stranger’s name,)
listed no longer the generous sacrifice of
l a tide.
•• Heaven bless you, my son,” was all
1’ could utter.
Claude sighed. How sweet, yetmourn
sounded that name to his ear! He
mght he had heard it for the last time,
1 it awoke ten thousand thrilling remem*
tnces.
Vll night Claude walche.l by his bed
'e, endeavoring to mitigate the excrucia
:g pain that racked his frame almost to
-solution. The people of the house were
nd but rough people, and Mr. Montague
idently shrunk from their ministrations,
ie bed was hard, the pillows low, and the
sheets, though of snowy whiteness, of ex
ceedingly coarse linen. The wintry wind
! whistled through the log-built walls, and
1 no curtains protected the invalid from the
blast. The windows, destitute of glass,
were nothing but openings, closed by wood
en shutters, which, occasionally loosening,
(lapped to and fro, with a mournful, creak
ing sound. There was nothing cheerful
in the aspect of the room, but the bright,
all-illuminating pine blaze, that rolled up
the immense chimney, reflecting its glow
on a sable figure that sat nodding on the
hearth, on the pallid face und snowy locks
of the aged, and the bright hair of the
young, that mingled with it as it swept
against the pillow. Such was apart
ment and scene, in which the luxuriantly
bred and self-indulging Claude served his
first apprenticeship at the couch of suffer
ing. Often, during the stillness of .the
night, he would start and tremble with awe,
as the sufferer, in the extremity of his ago
ny, would call upon his Savior and his
God to help him, in the time of trouble.
“ Forsake me not, O, my God ! Be not
tar from me! Make lmste to help me, 0,
Lord—my salvation ! In the day of my
trouble, I will call upon thee—for thou
wilt answer me.”
It was the first time that Claude had heard
the voice of prayer, save from the sacred
desk. But then he listened to it as a for
mula proper for the Sabbath, and the God
thus addressed seemed very far off. There
was something awful in being thus made
to feel his presence in that lonely cham
ber—in being brought so very near him by
the prayer of faith, mingling with the
groans of agony. His earthly father had
cast him oft". Had he, indeed, a Father in
Heaven, who would receive the returning
prodigal ?
, [Co: eluded in our next.]
DU 11
For llicli&rds’ Weekly Gazette.
THE FLIT CORRESPONDENCE.
NUMIt E R 51.
New York, April 25, 1840.
My Dear Sir :—l passed a very pleasant
.evening lately, at one of the semi-monthly
re-unions of the old Sketch Club, ns it is
sometimes called by way of distinguishing
it from the society of junior artists of the
same name. It is one of the oldest Clubs
in the City, having been founded about the
same time with the National Academy of
Design, now nearly a generation since.—
It was established, I think, by Professor
Morse and the artists associated with him
in the institution of his Academy, and
now numbers among its members, many of
our most eminent painters, poets, and con
noisseurs. For many years.it was literal
ly a sketch club ; but it now rests upon its
laurels, and is simply a social re-union and
conversazione. Avery delightful asso
ciation it is, too, and especially so must it
be to those of its early members who blend
the memories of tlieir youth with recollec
tions of its pleasures. The meetings of
the Club are held in rotation, at the homes
of the members, and on the evening to
which I have referred, they were the guests
of Mr. Shegogue, one of the most esteem-
e.l of their number. Among the artists
present, were, besides the hospitable host,
Mr. Durand, the President of the Acade
my, Mr. Huntington, Mr. Edmunds, Mr.
Ingham, Professor Cummings, and others
whose names are familiar to all lovers of
the beautiful Art. I might amuse you with
a record of the learned discourse and the
sparkling gossip of the evening, but as the
society is a private one, it is not a fairsub
ject for other than slight and general rela
tion. On the following night, (Saturday.)
I dropped in at the regular convocation of
the junior (New York) Sketch Club. This
younger association numbers about as many
members as the elder, but all of them are
either professional or amateur artists. I
found them engaged in listening to one of
a series of discourses upon pictorial anato
my. It is their custom to spend the early
part of the evening in some study connect
ed with the Arts, and each member in turn
expound*for the general edification. The
Club then adjourns, and an hour or two
swiftly passes in chit-chat and in the ex
amination of the host's larder and the budg
et of sketches for the night. This latter
item, as, indeed, the former, was particu
larly fine at this meeting. About twenty
five drawings, of more or less merit, were
present—being a larger number than usual,
although the members are always reasona
bly industrious. During the evening, Mr.
Scherff performed a set of waltzes upon
the piano-forte, which he had composed in
honor of the Club, and which were the
more interesting and amusing, as the bur
then of them was a ludicrous air, which,
from certain causes, has become an espe
cial favorite with the members. These
waltzes, I understand, arc soon to be pub
lished.
Besides the Academy and the Sketch
Clubs, our artists have other societies,
which assemble periodically, for the same
end of social intercourse and professional
advancement; all tending towards the in
crease of that kindly feeling and unity of
action, no where so marked as here, and
which is effecting so much toward the pres
ent rapid improvement of the Arts and of
the public taste. Among them is the Art
Re-union—a society of some years’ stand
ing, whose weekly r meetings are devoted
exclusively to professional studies. This
Association possesses a small but select
Art Library, which is continually increas
ing. Its members are artists or amateurs,
and all of them young men. Then comes
the “Century Club,” whose members, (lim
ited to the number of one hundred,) are ar
tiste, literary men. and lovers of the Arts.
Its roll of habitues includes many’ distin
guished names. The Century Club is al
together different, in its modus operandi ,
from the other associations which I have
©l3lllS a
mentioned. It is similar in organization to
the large clubs of London and Paris, hav
ing apartments always accessible, day and
night, being provided with a case , a read
ing-room, and other etceteras of such es
tablishments. Its members are elected by
j ballot, subjected to respectable initiation
fees, quarterly dues, and so on. New
York can now boast of several extensive
clubs of this kind, though the “ Century”
is the most exclusive, and the only one
] composed chiefly of artists and authors.—
The Raofeett Club is a large and fashiona
ble affair, with a beautiful edifice devoted
■ to its uses, and a grand tennis-court at its
disposal. It is most too pretending and
expensive for our quiet and home-loving
people, and has more than once been in
dangerof itslife The “Evangelist” news
paper at one time made an impertinent and
puritanical attack nflon the Rackett Club,
and the character and doings of its mem
bers, for which it apologized .the following
week, by saying that the President had
called and shown them that they were in
! error in supposing the Club to consist of
i gay young blades ; that, on the contrary,
i it appeared to be made up very much of
respectable old gentlemen and patriarchs,
i who ought to be at home looking after
their wives and families ! It is not known
whether the Club has ever again attempted
to explain a joke!
The “New York Club” is another insti
tution of the same kind, and of high re
spectability, where its members can lounge
in at any hour, with a reasonable certainty
of meeting friends and erdhies with whom
to gossip, smoke, sip coffee, discuss a steak,
or peruse th; papers and periodicals.—
Then eotnes the “Union,” a society of
somewhat different caste; and the “Man
hattan,” with which I am unacquainted.—
With our domestic habits—and economical
withal—club-life can never obtain here as
in Europe. There, a man’s club is his
head-quarters, his office, his home—where
he lives and moves, eats, drinks, and per
chance sleeps; here it is an unrequired
luxury, and an expensive one, as its cost,
instead of supplacing, is all to be added to
the ordinary expense of an establishment.
Spcakingof Clubs, the “Colonel’s Club,”
in the last issue of the Literary World, did
this clever jeu d'esprit, in view of the
conservative policy of the Autocrat of all
the Ilussias :
“ Beware of the Wes of March.
Was the warning in oliten Home,
That preulonisheil the Caesar's end,
And ]iromi e 1 bright days to come ;
But noiv ihe reverse disturbs
The modern Czar in his ease,
Who hears as his warning cry—
Bewai e of the March of Jde(a)s !”
The assault upon the Editor of one of
our weekly journals, mentioned in my last
I letter, has been followed by the arraign
: ment and trial of the fair aggressor.—
Pleading “guilty,” and threatening to “do
it again,” she was convicted, and sentenced
to pay a fine of G 1-4 cents, whereupon,
she drew forth an elegant and well-filled
purse, extracted the sixpence, and proffered
it at once to the plaintiff whose counsel in
terfering, took it upon himself to see the
matter arranged ! Os course, the injured
journalist’s next issue contained a fiery re
taliation upon all, and especially upon the
editors, who had sided against him in the
affair. Bennett, of the Herald, was very
severely belaboured; all the insults to
which he had been subjected, were alluded
to; among other things, he was reminded
of a castigation which he once received
at the cost, to the donor, of four hundred
dollars; to which pleasant taunt the He
rald quietly and philosophically replied,
that, “according to all showing, every man
seemed to have his price: since to whip
Bennett cost four hundred dollars, ditto
“ Ned Buntline,” six and a quarter cents !
Apropos of quarrels—Mr. Forest has
just published a third letter, touching the
dispute between himself and Mr. Macrea
dy. The former gentleman has just com
menced an engagement at the Broadway
Theatre, and the latter is soon to appear at
the Astor House Opera Place.
Mrs. Butler's success in her “readings,”
seems to have set the whole world to work
in the same vein : several similar enter
tainments are already announced, for im
mediate forthcoming. What a pity it is,
ideas are so scarce, that when one poor
thing developes, it must be immediately
ridden to death. No sooner will Father
Mathew arrive, (he is not here yet,) than
[ expect to see Shakspeare and everything
else cashiered, while tout le monde wets
its whistle for total abstinence expluttera
tion.
Among our latest arrivals of “ Barnums,”
is a droll, woolly thing, of the horse ge
nus, said to have been captured by Col.
Fremont in the western wilderness. A
correspondent of one of the papers remem
bers to have seen, sometime since, a simi
lar animal attached to an ash-cart in Allen
Street, which animal very unfortunately
and very strangely disappeared, from the
time of the dibdt of Col. Fremont's beast!
He thinks, that being so much alike, it
would only be necessary to see them to
gether, to throw some satisfactory light
upon the present uncertainty of naturalists
in regard to the “ nondescript,” as it is ad
vertised and exhibited to our poor bam
boozled community. “The Woolly Horse,”
say r the bills, “can be seen only a few
days longer, prior to its departure for Eu
rope 1 ”
The American ArtATnion has given Mr.
Parley a commission to execute for its sub
scribers of the present year, six outline il
lustrations of Irving’s “ Legend of Sleepy
Hollow,” to he published with the text in
the beautiful manner of the “Rip Van
Winkle.” This choice work, in addition
to Smillie’s superb engraving from Cole’s
“Youth,” in the series of the “Voyage of
Life,” will make the inducements to sub
scribers this year, much superior in the
matter of engravings, to any former season.
The Gallery is fast filling up. and when its
pictures purchased from the walls of the A
cademy, are added to it, but little room for
more will be found, until the contemplated
enlargement is made. Mr. Dailey, by the
way, is engaged to design the illustrations
for Mr. Geo. Putnam’s contemplated edition
of the works of J. Fennimore Cooper, to be
issued in the style of the beautiful uniform
series of Irving now in progress. The
“Spy” is already in hand, and will appear
in the autumn. The same able artist is
also busy with the illustrations of a forth
coming edition of Mrs. Osgood's poems,
uniform with Carey & Hart’s “Longfel
low,” “ Bryant,” &c.
The St. George’s Society celebrated its
anniversary at the City Hotel, last Monday
night, in right jcyous style. The toast of
“The Queen ! God bless her!” and that of
“The President of the United States,”
were received with the same enthusiastic
acclaim.
The present rage for books in the an
cient style of orthography and typography,
has given rise to a cant use of old words,
such as ye b’hoys, ye pleasaunte walkes
of Hoboken, “ ye mar. in the claret-colored
coat,” and so on.
According to your programme, this, the
first of the second half century of my com
munications will be called upon to rally
under your new flag, and to develope in the
dignity of “folio.” In the hope that your
readers will not like me less in my new
dress than in the old and that the change
suit may suit all parties, and realize all
your expectations, fam your’s,
In ye bonds of friendship;
FLYTTE.
TinTTiTirrirr
■ :
MAY.
Upon a bright and baluiy day,
The flow’rs around were springing ;
With hymns of love the birds so gay
Set all the woods a-ringing.
The trouts did leap, the hords did low,
The merry lambs were playing;
And in the hawthorn dell below,
A lassie fair was moving.
The blackbird piped so loud and clear,
The thrush the air was filling,
Above a floating downy cloud,
The heaven-ward lark W as trilling ;
And loudly did the cuckoo call,
As he hts way was winging:
And yet I heard above them all
That pretty tussle singing.
Adown the vale a zephyr flew,
As if lie would adore her ;
The hawthorn-bush above that grew,
Dropp'd show'rs of spangles o’er her :
She rais'd her head and shook her locks,
Her laughing eyes did glisten—
Then sang again, till the very flocks
Flood quietly to listen.
“ Here are nodding cowslips meet
For my little brother,
Primroses and violets sweet
For my own dear mother.
Seated on my father’s knee
I shall hear his praises,
While ho fondly makes for mo
A necklace of these daisies.”
I’ve l’asta heard ad Rarlleinan,
Persian i and Rubini;
Sontag, Grisi, MaHbran,
Lahlache and Tnmburini:
Rut though their voices rich and clear
Sot all the town a-ringing,
Far sweeter fell upon mine ear
That little lassie’s singiug.
[Broderip's Recreations.
DR. FRANKLIN ABROAD.
In his autobiography’, Dr. Franklin re
fers with gratification to a sort of prophecy
of his father’s that he should stand before
kings, which was more than fulfilled by
his standing before six and dining with
one, the King of Denmark, in London;
and in a letter to his friend Thomas Cush
ing, speaker of the Massachusetts House
of Representative-*, the doctor, then 65
years of age, speaks with the gratification
of an old man, of the honor paid him in
1771 by the Irish Parliament. He had
just returned from a tour in Scotland and
Ireland, and was inscribing some of the oc
currences. “Before leaving Ireland, 1
must mention that, being desirous of see
ing some of the principal patriots there, I
stayed till the opening of their Parliament.
I found them disposed to be friends of
America, in which I endeavored to confirm
them, with the exception that our growing
weight might in time be thrown into their
scale, and, by joining our interests with
theirs, a more equitable treatment from this
nation might be obtained for them as well
as for us. There are many brave spirits
among them. The gentry are a very sen
sible, polite, and friendly people. The
Parliament makes a most respectab'e figure,*
with a number of very respectable speak
ers in both parties, and able men of busi
ness. And 1 must not omit acquainting
you that, it being a standing rule to admit
members of the English Parliament to sit
(though they do not vote) in the House
among the members, my fellow-traveller,
being an English member, was accordingly
admitted as such: but I supposed I must
go to the gallery, the speaker stood
up and acquainted the House that he un
derstood there was in town an American
gentleman of (as he was pleased to say)
distinguished chatacter and merit, a mem
ber or delegate of Some of the Parliaments
of that country, who was desirous of being
present at the debates of the House; that
there was a rule of the House for admitting
members of English Parliaments, and that
he supposed the House would consider the
American Assemblies as English Parlia
, meats; but as this was the first instance,
he had chosen not to give any order in it
without first receiving their directions. On
the question, the House gave aloud, unani
mous Ay, when two members came with
out the bar, led me in between them, and
placed me honorably and commodiously.”
Such a reception in Ireland must have
been exceedingly gratifying to him at a
time when the “lying representations,”
as he strongly terms them, of Governor
Bernard, identifying him with the Massa
chusetts disturbances, made his treatment
by the official personages in London any
thing but courteous. He had been griev
ously insulted by Lord Hillsborough, as
we have already seen, and certain of the
newspapers were, or had been, in full cry
against him. In the respite fiom public
labors and official discomforts which he
enjoyed during this tour through Ireland
and Scotland, the sympathy and warm
heartedness of the Irish patriots were not
the only circumstances which him
comfort and solace. He found his old
Scottish friends, with some new ones,
ready 1o receive him with open arms, and
spent several weeks in the enjoyment of
the society of men, most of whom had no
particular political sympathy with him,
while their esteem for him as a man and
as a philosopher, or, in other words, their
personal regard, made their intercourse
with him most delightful. — Harper's Illus
trated Franklin.
METEORITES.
In a long and able essay on Meteorites,
Prof. C. Shepard holds the theory that they
are, in reality, of terrestrial origin. He
draws numerous deductions from facts
within his own sphere of observation, and
observes that their extra-terrestrial origin
seems likely to be more and more called
in question, with the advance of knowledge
respecting such substances and as additions
continue to be made to the connected
Sciences.
Professor Shepard then proceeds in the
following language. His views are pre
sented with great vigor and clearness, and
will be found very interesting:
“The recent study (he says) of those fre
quently occurring and wide spread atmos
pheric accumulations of meteoric dust, (a
single case being recorded where the area
must have been thousands of square miles
in extent, and where the quantity of earth
ly matter precipitated must have been from
50,000 to 100,000 tons in weight,) makes
known to us the vast scale on which ter
restrial matter is often pervading the re
gions of the atmosphere; and prepares us
to appreciate the mode in which the pecu
liar constituents of Meteorites may be trans
lated to those remote distances, where, ac
cording to the theory of Blot, the clouds of
metallic dust are retained.
Great electrical excitation is known to
accompany volcanic eruptions, which may
reasonably be supposed to occasion some
chemical changes in the volcanic ashes
ejected; these, being wafted by the ascen
sional force of the eruption into the re
gions of the magneto-polar influence, may
there undergo a species of magnetic analy
sis. The most highly magnetic elements
(iron, nickel, cobalt, chromium, &c.) or
compounds in which these predominate
would thereby be separated, and become
suspended in the form of metallic dust,
forming those columnar clouds so often il
luminated in auroral displays, and whose
position conforms to the direction of the
dipping needle. While certain of the dia
magnetic elements, (or combinations of
them) on the other hand, may', under the
control of the same force, be collected into
different masses, taking up a position at
right angles to the former, (which Farady
has shown to be the fact in respect to such
bodies,) and thus produce those more or i
less regular arches, transvers to the mag- j
netic meridian, that are often recognized in [
the phenomena of the aurora borealis.
Any great disturbance of the forces [
maintaining these clouds of meteor dust,
like that produced by a magnetic storm,
might lead to the precipitation of portions
of the matter thus suspended. If the dis
turbance was confined to the magnetic dust,
iron masses would fall; *if to the dia-mag- i
netic dust, a non-ferruginous stone: if it
should extend to both classes simultaneous
ly, a blending of the two characters would \
ensue in the precipitate, and a rain of ordi- :
nary meteoric stones would take place.
As favoring this view, we are struck
with the rounded, hailstone-like form of j
many of the particles of composition (even j
though consisting of widely’ different sub
stances) in nearly all stones, and even in j
many of the iron masses. Nor are these
shapes to be referred to fusion ; they evi- j
dently depend upon a cause, analogous to
that which determines the same configura
tion in hailstones themselves-
The occasional raining of meteorites
might therefore be as much expected as the
ordinary deposition of moisture from the
atmosphere. The former would originate
in a mechanical elevation of volcanic ash
es and in matter swept into the air by tor
nadoes, the latter from simple evaporation.
11l the one case the matter is upheld by
magneto-electric force; in the other, by the
law of diffusion which regulates the blen
ding of vapors and gases, and by tempera
ture. A precipitation of metallic or earth
ly matter would happen on any reduction
of the magnetic tension; one of rain, hail,
or snow, on a fall ol temperature. The
materials of both originate in our earth. In
the one instance they are elevated but to a
short distance from its surface, while in
the other they to penetrate beyond
its farthest limits, and possibly to enter the
inner planetary space; in both cases, how
ever, they are destined, through the opera
tion of invariable laws, to return to their
repository.' 1
ADULTERATED MINES.
[An English Temperance paper g ; ves the
following account of the manner in
which wines and other spirituous liquors
are prepared for popular consumption.
If the statements are true and who can
gainsay them ? it would seem to us that
the use of such adulterated liquors
would cease to be “popular.”]
Ed. Gazette.
“The British Markets are glutted with
unwholsome and tartarean liquors , brought
into this country by avaricious and unprin
cipled men, for no other purpose than that
of fabricating imitations of port wines. It
having been proved upon chemical analy
sis that ingredients of the most exitous na
ture are employed in manufacturing the
various pernicious liquors which have, of
iate years poured into England. This we
cannot feel surprised at, when a law had
to be enacted, declaring it to be an offence
punishable with death, the mixing of li
tharge or sugar of lead (a most deadly poi
son) with wine, to such an extent had this
abominable practice been resorted to abroad.
It is also just that the public should be
made cognizant of the fact, that at the
docks, and all bonded stores in England,
Ireland, and Scotland, a system has of late
been sanctioned of mixing various wines
together, and drugging them wilh large
quantities of rum spirit. So barefaced has
this disgraceful practice become, that large
warehouses have been set apart under the
name of vatting warehouses, in the docks,
for the purpose of compounding various red
and white wines togeiher. The literal
meaning of the word,Vatting, is the mix
ing of several bad, tainted, or decayed
wines in one large vessel, called a vat,
while under bond ; and the adding thereto
of as much rum spirits as the owtfbr thinks
fit: which he is permitted to do free of du
ty. After this transmutation, the heteroge
neous mass is reracked in open casks, and
palmed upon the unsuspecting purchaser
as the undefiled growth of the country
whence it comes.”
A Shrewd Reply.—A young friend of
ours was undergoing an examination for
admission to the bar. Judge S had
pushed his questions pretty closely', but
the candidate was never at fault. Finally,
the Judge pounced upon him as follows.
“Suppose that a Boston importer should
come to you with a case like this”—and
here the Judge went on to state one of the
most complicated questions that arise in re
gard to marine insurance. It was a poser.
Our friend, intending to practice in the
country', was not “ posted up” on this top
ic. But he was a Yankee, and he never
was at a loss for an answer. So soon as
the Judge had summed up his case, and
closed off with the inquiry, “ What would
you say 1“ Our friend promptly replied,
“ I should tell him to sit down, sir, until I
could look at my books.” “The best
thing you could do—the very thing you
ought to do,” rejoined the Judge, “you are
admitted, sir.”
ijMsajasa BKuav.
AN IRISHMAN IN THE DIGGINGS.
Among the mass of correspondence from
the gold region, we have seen nothing that
has afforded us more gratification, or so ful
ly convinced us of the existence of piles of
gold in those diggins as the following let
ter from Terence Mahoney, Esq. :
Sacrymf.nto Diggins, )
Oct. 28, 1848. )
To Tim Flaherty ■■ Ilowly Moses! Tim,
as soon as you read this bit of a note jist
come out at wonst. Rite foTenest me wheS
I sit composing over this letter there's a
fortune to be made for the mere siftin'.
The sands is all goold powther. Och ! if
you could only see how beautiful it shines
in the sun. An, thin the depth of it. It
goes clane down to the centre of the world.
The mountains, Tim, has vains, and every
vain is full of the circulating majium.
VVould’nt you like to bleed them vains,
ould boy. We've nohorseshere, ‘ceptin’
mules, and as soon as one of the t oys gets
a load he puts it on the back of the donkey,
and carries it to the ass saycrs. The ass
sayers, ye see, is the gintlemen as informs
ye if the goold's the rale stuff, or only I
iron pitaties. It’s an invintion av the ould
sarpint, and if yez put it in the fire it van- )
ishegin a thin smoke wid an enfurnel smell j
of sulfir. lleven be about us !
It's a fine healthy regin in the Sackry
mento. There's no disease ‘cept the sha
kin’ ager; and the fits come on fust rate
whin there's any siftin to be done. As
soon as one o’ the boys gets one av the
shakes on him he jist puts the sifther in
his fists, and he'll soon make a small for
tin afore the trimble's off av him.
We're all rale dimmicrats out here,Tim.
While I'm vvritin av this letter on the side
of my hat, bad to the crown of it—l
kin see one of the captains of New Fork
melisha washing the goold in the Sacrymen
to, without a screen o’ breeches on him,
savin’ your presence. Even the mishina
ries dig like bog-throtters all the week, and
deliver mighty improvin’ discoorses to the
Haythen on the unrighteousness of mamon
on a Sunday. The Injun’s incensed in this
way wid the sinfulness of riches, and sell
it chape to save their sowls.
Remember me to Biddy, the darlint, an’
tell her if she'll put the breeches on her,
she kin make hapes of money here, for she
knows how to use the spade, an’ its asier
diggin’ the goold than cuttin’ the turf in
Kilkenny. But she’d better not be afthcr
cornin’ in her nateral duds, for site av a
petticoat might breet a ruption in the sitlc
ment.
Intendin’ to address you ;{gin
the state of picayunary affairs in this coun
try I remain yer eflekshynit cozzen.
TERENCE MAHONEY.
HOW MR. M’MAHON WAS SATIS
FIED.
“I made one of four hundred interesting
individuals, who sailed for Lisbon, in the
Bermuda transport, and after being tossed
about for ten days, we were obliged to put
back—the sea went down and we found
ourselves lying comfortably in the harbor
1 of Cork.
“Come, Mr. Medicot,” said the skipper,
tome, “we shall be here for a couple of
days to refit; had you not better go ashore
and see the country ?”
“I sprang to my legs with delight; vis
ions of cowslips, larks, daisies, and mutton
chops, floated before my excited imagina
tion; and in ten minutes I found myself
standing at that pleasant little inn at Cove,
which, opposite Spike Island, rejoices in
the name of Goat and Garters.
“Breakfast, waiter,” said I; “a beef
steak, fresh beef, mark ye; fresh eggs,
bread, milk, and butter, all fresh. No
more hard tack, thought 1; no salt butter,
but a genuine land breakfast.
“Up stairs, No, 4, sir,” said the waiter,
as he flourished a dirty napkin indicating
the way.
“Up stairs I went, and in due time the
appetizing little dejeuner made its appear,
ance. Never did a minor’s eye revei over
his broad acres with more complacent en
joyment, than did mine skim over the mut
ton and muffin, the teapot, the trout and
the devilled kidney, so invitingly spread
out before me. Yes, thought I, as I smack
ed my lips, this is the reward of virtue;
pickled pork is the probationary state that
admirably fits us for future enjoyments—l
arranged my napkin upon my knee, seized
my knife and fork, and proceeded with
most critical acumen to dissect a beefsteak.
Scarcely, however, had I touched it, when,
with a loud crash, the plate smashed be
neath it, and the gravy ran piteously
across the cloth. Before I had time to ac
count for the phenomenon, the door open
ed hastily, and the waiter rushed into the
room—his face beaming with smiles, while
he rubbed his hands in ecstacy of delight.
“ It's all over, sir,” said he, “glory to
God, it’s all done.”
“What’s over ? What,s done ?” inquir
ed I with impatience.
“Mr. McMahon is satisfied,” replied he,
“and so is the other gentleman.”
“Who and what the devil do you mean ?”
“ It’s all over sir, I say,” replied the wai
ter again — •'■he fired into the air S’ 1
“ Fired in the air ! Was there a duel in
the room below stairs?”
“ Yes, sir,” said the waiter, with a be
nign smile.
“ That will do,” said I as, seizing my
hat, I rushed out of the house, and, hurry
ing to the beach, took a boat for the ship.
Exactly half an hour had elapsed since my
landing, but even those short thirty min
utes had fully as many reasons, that, al
though there may be few more amusing;
there are some safer places to live in than
the Green Island,
A TOUGII STORY.
Talk not of tough stories in Yankee
newspapers after reading the following
; from a St. Petersburgh journal:—“A re
turned traveller from the north tells me of
a curious mode they have iR Siberiq*of pro
curing the skin of the Sable. Their fur is
in the greatest perfection in the depth of
winter, at which time the hunter proceeds
to the forest, armed with a pitcher of wa
ter, and some carrion meat; he deposits
the bait at the foot, and climbs himself to
Ihe top of a high tree. As soon as the an
imal, attracted by r the scent, arrives, the
man drops some water on his tail, and it
instantaneously becomes frozen to the
ground! On which, descending from his
elevation with incredible rapidity, his pur
suer, with a sharp knife, cuts him trans
versely on the face. The Sable, from the
excss of pain, taking an extraordinary
spring forward, runs off, and (his tail be
ing fastened to the ground) out of his skin,
of course, leaving it a prey to the hunter!
Upon expressing a slight doubt as to the
probability of this mode of skinning the
animals, my friend asured me that he
never could have delieved it, had he
not frequently beheld it himself.
Equivocal. —l read in the 1 Sun’ the fol
lowing :
Lost —ln the neighborhood of Broadway
and Fulton st., on Friday, a heavy built
| black and blue slut, answers to the name
of Nell. Whoever will return her to No.
; 16 st., will receive $ 1.
I thought this related to a runaway wife,
| but the reward corrected the error, for the
noble fellows who inform the public of
their helpmate's depariur. -
announcement with the notice that
will pay ‘no debts of her cont’racting.'—
! Some of them behave in the same wav to
ward their own debts, but keep that to
themselves. It seems to me that a ‘ black
and bine, slut must have come from M
pinch.’ .V. Y. Spirit ae Times. *
True rf.d Republican.-The
leans Delta says :
‘‘We saw a Frenchman, , cen(l most
cord,ally embracing a Chocta- fndian in
the lower market.”
“Begare!” said he, “he be oi rea j na
live American—<] e true red republ, an m
