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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