Newspaper Page Text
by the keen point of my blade, while he
held a parley and slowly 1 etveated towards
a street-lamp. Fool that I was, I did not
divine his object, or was too reckless to re
gard it, and pressed upon him until the
glare fell full upon my unshaded counten
ance : the instant it did so, from what
cause I know not, unless that my face
was that rather of a devil than of a mortal,
he dropped his guard, with a suppressed
exclamation, swiftly drew forth and cast
to me a heavy purse, and, saying ‘-God
help you—God help you !” in a tone still
ringing in my ears, passed into the dim
ness beyond.
All this passed with the swiftness of
thought: then came a fearful reaction of
reason, my senses returning to show me
that 1 was a highway robber, and well
nigh a murderer. Dashing down the
sword, I ran eagerly, wildly, through street
after street, intent upon one sole end—that
of compelling him to receive his money
again, and delivering myself into his hands’
to do with me as he would. In this man
ner, 1 spent nearly an hour fruitlessly : 1
would rather have held a reptile in my
grasp than the accursed purse, and yet I
dared not fling it from me. lest the state
ment I must, at some day, make should
want proof.
And now you know all—that, soul and
body, I am lost here, and for all hereafter;
and it is only left to you, poor, injured,
sinless child, as you once loved, to hate
me henceforward.” #
As the narrative had approached its
close, she had sat erect, pale, breathless,
and with her small hand convulsively
clasping one of his, weighing all things,
as spoken, in her mind, and enduring ago
ny at heart, of which he little dreamed:
and when all was over, where a less true
and noble nature would have yielded to
welcome insensibility, she had wholly for
gotten self—thought only by what words
and deeds she might apply balm to her
husband’s lacerated soul, and how best he
that had gone astray, but was not lost,
might be restored to God’s favor again. It
was a relief, too, to find he had not fallen
so far as, once during the recital, she had
dreaded : and for this, with arms about his
neck, and cheek laid against his, she now
murmured, between her tears, “Thank
God! oh, thank God!”
An hour or more had passed, and the
light of the approaching day began to ap
pear between the blades of the Venetian
shutters. She opened one of these, and
took her seat by him on the couch again.
She had been rapidly considering every
plan of retrenchment and reform : love of
wealth had almost wrecked his soul, hut
now he would gladly suffer the extreme of
poverty to regain what he hail nearly lost
forever; and it was because she dreaded
lest delay should weaken this resolve, that”
she taxed her woman’s ingenuity to the ut
most to devise some outlet of escape before
ihe loev.o of penitence, which ftlnr.9 had
saved her heart from breaking, were dry
upon his cheeks.
Dear, dear husband,” she spoke softly,
“ you have erred greatly, hut not beyond
return. Our Lord is very pitiful, and re
members always that we are but mortals,
to whom sin is easier than well-doing;
an l so, when we turn again and cry to
Him with our whole earnest hearts for for
giveness, He does not fail to help us as lie
has promised. My only, my first love,
for the truth's sake, and as you love me,
believe this!”
And believe he did. What precious,
healing words! Say them again !
No, hut she spoke others as gentle:
“ See,” she cried, at the end, with a voice
that now scarcely trembled, and a faint
smile, “ how hopeful and brave I am, and
I only a woman!”
Ah, the little Roman soul, how, like Ilo
ratius, it stood midway on the bridge, and,
to shelter the beloved and beleaguered city,
opposed a countless host!
“ Hitherto,” she continued, “you have
not succeeded in accomplishing a noble re
sult, because you worked alone; but hence
iorth we will labor together, and then all
will go well. And first, that your mind
may be relieved of a dreary weight, and
that, should any steps be designed, they
may be forestalled, insert in all the papers
a description of the exterior of ‘this fatal
purse, as if it had been found, and you
waited only to restore it to the rightful
owner. Will you do this 1”
“ Yes, gladly.”
lie had no words for the love and grati
tude in his breast, but received her sugges
tions as counsel from Heaven.
“Then we will immediately—this very
day, if you please—find some small house
in the city, in which we will live, hence
forth, more happily than in this palace:
those who are our true friends will follow
us there, and we need no others. All must
be sold; we must keep nothing back but
a lew useful articles we can select togeth
er: I will require no jewelry, then, but a
rose-bud occasionally to wear upon the
breast, and you only a few pet-books out
of your library; for my plan is that we
ball never be again idle. You must not
think 1 ain making any sacrifice: lam
ure l have been very miserable here du
ng the long evenings of your absence,
ud there I will be happy as the day is
long, for you will be with me always.
‘Ye must leave nothing undone to restore
what we have wasted: if our whole lives
re spent in the endeavor, dearest husband,
t us not forbear, until all is again as
u ‘seu we received it. The proceeds of the
iiiions are not ours to use even for
end, but I have SIO,OOO of my own
raining, which, with the sale of this
use and furniture, will suffice to recover
negroes, and leave a fund besides; to
Ich can be added the S3OO per annum,
which you are entitled—a trifling sum,
1 it will, in some degree, help our de
sign : and I have a fine plait in my head,
of v.hich 1 will tell you soon, which will
enable us to rely upon yourself wholly for
daily support. Now, do you like this TANARUS”
He liked it so well that his heart began
to revive, to find there was hope and hap
piness, perhaps, yet in store. While
speaking, she had risen and stood near the
fire-place:
“ How cold it is!” she exclaimed sud
denly, looking around ; and then gathering
a package of printed notes from a pier-ta
ble, threw them upon the fire.
Even in the whirl of Ills thoughts, the
strangeness of this action drew her hus
band's attention : a surmise of the truth
crossed his mind, and he rose quickly to
realize the instinctive conjecture, hut she
.caught him by both hands, and, blushing
to the eyes, cried :
“ What is it you wish ? No, no ; you
must not see them ! Ah, what a tyrant,
to pry into what fuel I choose to use!”
Hut he had already stooped forward, and
possessed himself of a card partially burnt:
yes, he was sure of it at the first; they
were invitations to one of their grand halls
the ensuing week, ready for distribution
on that very day : and she was fearful, if
his eye encountered them, lest he should
be caused pain by wliat he would conjec
ture to be another sacrifice on her part.
He saw it all at a glance ; the deep tender
ness shown even in apparent trifles; and
when she lay, the next moment, strained
to his breast, for the first time for many,
many hateful days, his eyes met hcr’s with
joy and pride, and the dawn of coming
happiness brought long unknown peace to
his soul.
[To be concluded nest week ]
jp(p& , a , nnr
For Richard a’ Weekly Gazette.
A WALK WITH THE DEAD.
BT HENRY R. JACKSON.
Ye waving woods! yc wa\ ing woods !
That gird my boyhood’s distant home,
Still through your peaceful solitudes
The winds make music as they roam ;
Still through.their houghs, by Winter stared,
The stars look down, with tranquil light,
On haunts to memory’s heart endeared
By all that makes her kingdom bright.
Still run the long, old avenues,
Nursed by the guardian hand of art,
And glistening in the winter dews,
Like veins toward a common heart; —
Still sighs the breeze, still sings the stream,
And over all the same broad dome,
For, lying in a pleasant dream,
To me thou art unchanged, my home.
Again I feci thy blessed air,
Like halm upon m3’ aching brow ;
Again thy deep repose I share,
Again along thy paths I go,
And as I walk, on either arm,
J feel another press mine own,
Nor wonder that it should be warm,
Nor marvel at the tender tone.
The stars grow sweeter overhead
As through the shady aisles wc stroll,
a ~i uAn..li.u nature in our tread
Seems kindling with a living soul;
Joy’s sun is bright, save when a dread,
Like shadowy mist, floats o’er his beam,
That 1 am walking with the dead !
Avaunt! it is an idle dream !
I know thee, sister, by the well
Os deep affection in thine eye!
I know thee , father, by the spell,
The heart-spell which can never die!
it was a dream that years ago,
Within its narrow house of clay,
We laid thy stiffened body low,
And turned, with breaking hearts away.
It was a dream that she who wept
Upon mine arm in tender trust,
A mourner sweet as ever stept
Behind a hearse of coffin’d dust;
But lately, in a distant land.
Had sadly sickened, calmly died—
Was brought to thee h>’ a trembling hand,
And sweetly slumbers by thy side.
It was a dream! A vaunt, dark shade!
No more thy tearful gloom impart!
As into night the visions fade,
My boyhood's home, how bright thou art!
They come again !—I see them, now !
1 cannot drive that dream away !
I start!—and where, iny home, art thou 1
The spectral dead ! ah ! where arc they 1
Savannah , January, 1849.
For Richards’ Weekly Gazette.
MY HEART’S QUEEN.
BY CHARLES WHELEtt.
I.
Not the thing of Fashion's artist
Is the being I adore;
Not the toy of wealth unbounded
Sways my heart forevermore!
Beauty's charm and Virtue's treasure
Better are than gilded sheen—
’Twas for these my heart first chose her
Aye to be its gentle queen !
When ye meet her, pass her by—
Seek some maid in Fortune's train ;
’Tis not meet deflouring eyes
Best upon my Fanny Vane!
11.
In your ramble, have you seen her—
Seen my own heart's peerless queen,
While she gather’ll morning flowers,
Tripping o'er the dewy green f
Blush’d she not e’en like the young rose
’Neath your rude and earnest gaze 1
Fell her eyes not on the green sward,
When your look bespoke its praiso 1
When again you meet my heart’s queen,
Bend upon admiring knee ;
Nor with look's too earnest gaze,
Press upon her purity !
SONNET LIII.
FROM THE ITALIAN...BY W. CI'MMING WILDE.
Amor o’asaiede all mio Tille accanto.
Abroad, with Phillis walking, Love will go;
But, seated, Love will ever linger near ;
And, in her tender words ‘tis Love you hear,
Whence she and he can much wc know !
Love lives in her—from him her witeh'ries flow—
I ler sweetest songs were taught by him, it’s clear,
For Love is in her angry bosom's glow ;
And Love in smile and frown and sigh and tear,
And in the mazy dance, that wand'ring sweet
As trembling flow'rcts stirs, the gentle wind,
To Love he lightly moves her little feet,
And in her flowing tresses, unconfined—
Un brow, neck, cheek and lips, Love, Love I
meet —
Tis only in the heart—no Love I find!
QB©o&ia©B® wiiiaw g&biuvb*
EH! flak A lillV.
.THE NERVOUS MAN AT A HOTEL.
All praise and abuse of hotels and
travelling conveniences, must betaken with
much allowance and great consideration.
The praise or blame depend more upon the
traveller than the accommodations. An old
stageringood health, with an easy digestion,
finds a luxury in a bright fire, and comfort
in a bed that would make most Christians
swear. One cannot make that man suffer
even in a stage coach ora country tavern.
On the other hand, a fretful specimen of
humanity, with his nerves outside of hs
coat, cannot be pleasant at home, often, with
his own pretty, little wife, and other appli
ances of blessed humanity. A man of
this sort is to be pitied in a hotel. He
cannot eat comfortably in a crowd, he
cannot digest wholesale cooking. After,
to him a wretched supper, he retires to a
more wretched room. The bare walls, and
dirty furniture, with chairs ranged stifly
around, look as if they were shivering in
the cold. A fire sending, perhaps, more
smoke than heat into the apartment, makes
discomfort visible. He crawlsintobed, and
listens to the banging doors—tramp of feet,
and bell-ringing—that like Macbeth says,
‘sleep no more.’ He turns and turns, cour
ting sleep in vain. At last, after repeat
ing the multiplication table for the thou
sandth time, he is about dropping into a
doze, when his own door, that he had neg
lected to bolt, is banged open and a servant
loaded with a trunk, carpet bag, cloak and
umbrella, tumbles them all on the floor.
Seeing his mistake, he as quickly tumbles
out. The door is secured, and back to bed
our friend sneaks, feeling mean and miser
able. No more sleep. A wakeful fever was
upon him. Directly a stage arrives and he
hears a confused noise of laughing voices;
a continual ringing for servants follows.
Then a thundering gong calls passengers to
supper. The passengers are being put to
bed ; another hour of noisy confusion, and
then all sink into comparative quiet. How
earnestly he prays this might continue.
His fire has burned down, a chunk is on the
hearth, and filling the room with smoke;
he must get up and arrange it. Now cer
tainly he can sleep—but no—he hears a
snore—it is most surely in the room. But
no, it’s in the next chamber, there is a door
between. Seizing a chair in agony, he
pounds on the pannel, someone wakes and
swears, and then snores again. Dogs bark,
cats scream, and the noise beats on his ears
i:u. u—. 11 — u„. ...... ...
—a servant knocks at his door, and tells
him to be getting up or he’ll hiiss the morn
ing train. He answers with a curse, and
turns over. The hotel is all astir, another
hour of noise and confusion. But tired na
ture is worn out and our friend is about
sinking into a delicious doze, when a noise
like half-smothered thunder break on his
startled ear. He listens —they are —no —
yes, by ; they are grinding coffee! He
opens his eyes and sees day breaking upon
a sleepless night. —Cincinnati Globe.
AN ODD PRIEST.
An incident has been related to us in
which Mr. Macready, the tragedian, was
made to suffer the pangs of purgatory while
yet in “this breathing world.” It is well
known that lie is extremely particular upon
the stage, and exacts of the actors implicit
obedience to his manifold suggestions ; and
consequently a very great deal of nervous
ness is experienced in playing with him.
“The little people as they are technically
termed, who [day minor parts, are often so
’ terrified for fear of making a faux pas that
they literally do “put their foot in it”
most essentially. On one occasion while
playing “Hamlet,” Mr. Macready was al
together too much for the unfortunate per
sonator of the “Priest” at the burial of
poor Ophelia, who would gladly have
cried,
“ Now pile your dust upon the quick anil dead;
Till of this fiat a mountain you have made
To o’ertop old Peliou, or the skyish head
Os blue Olympus.”
After having bestowed the body of the fair
Ophelia, Laertes inquires of the priest:
“W'liat ceremony else?” to which the
priest should respond,
“ Her obsequies have been as Tar enlarged
As we have warranty. Her death teas doubt
ful;
And, but that great command o’ersways the ord
er,
She should in ground unsanctified have lodged
Till the last trumiiet ; for charitable prayers,
Shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on
her.
Yet here she is allowed her virgin crants,
Her maiden strewments and the bringing home
Ot bell and burial.”
Instead of this, howevet, when asked
“what ceremony else!” he observed Ma
cready watching like a cat, and becoming
confused, delivered himself as follows:
“ Iler obsequies have been as far enlarged
As far as we have warranty —as we have war
• runtry 1”
Prompter —Her death doubtful.
Priest —“lt’s doubtful whether she’s
dead or not!”
Mr. Macrearly , (aside) —Good heavens!
is it possible!
Priest —“ Throw flints and pebbles on
her and bring her home for bell and buri
al.”
If a thunder cloud had swept across the
stage, the face of the tragedian could not
have presented a more sombre appearance;
daggers were in his gaze, and the priest de
termined that if he waited any longer there
would be “6ome ceremony else,” and, i
gathering his clerical robes about him,
made his exit with a rush, amid shouts of j
laughter from the audience. —New Orleans j
Picayune.
MINESOTA.
This is the euphonious name given to
the extensive region lying north of Wis
consin and lowa, which has just been pro
vided with a territorial government. Sev
eral promising settlements have been made
within the bounds of the new territory.—
The soil, for the most part is represented
to be very good ; the country is finely wa
tered and timbered, and the climate is mild
er and more genial than the corresponding
latitude in New England. We well re
member—it was but a few years ago—
when flour, pork, and potatoes were sent
from this port for the supply of a few
families settled where now is the beautiful
and flourishing city of Milwaukie. lowa
was then unknown, save as a wild hunting
ground for the Indians; and wc remember
publishing by request, the proceedings at
Dubuque—‘then without the limits of that
organized states or territories of the Union
—of a self-constituted court, to try a man
for murder. The few people then at that
remote point, though beyond the jurisdic
tion of the law, elected a judge, sheriff, and
a prosecuting attorney, empannelleda jury,
| assigned the prisoner counsel, tried con
victed, and hanged the murderer; and to
show that everything had been right sent
us a certified statement of all their procee
dings for publication. This was but little
more than ten years ago. Now Dubuque
is a flourishing town in the limits of the
State of lowa. In a few years more, Min
esota, whose name sounds so strangely,
will be knocking for admission into the
Union as a sovereign State. Nothing in
history surpasses, or even equals, the
growth of the far northwest. The ear
scarcely becomes familiar with the names
j of its teritories, and geographers are at a
loss to define their limits on the maps that
grace our walls, when, like Minerva spring
ing into life in full panoply, they challenge
, our admiration as firmly constituted, pros
: perous, independent commonwealths. In
truth we have a great and glorions coun
try. Its history is a romance surpassing
ill its facts the wildest creations of fiction.
For Richards’ Weekly Gazette.
A SABBATH MORNING SONNET.
BY WILLIAM C. RICHARDS.
world, enslave me not this holy day ;
Ensphere thou not my thoughts that fain
would rise,
And hold communion in the crystal skies,
With Him whose spirit breathed into m3’ clay
Insensate else—the vivifying ra3 T ANARUS,
That kindled my immortal sympathies—
Whose large desires thy littleness denies.
And seeks with Empty vanities to stay:
Oh, for the doves’ swift pinion that my soul
Might mount above thy passions and thy cares,
Exult in safety from thy hateful snares,
And, for a season, spurn thy’ base control:
Away vain world! oh, leave me to my rest;
Claim not the precious hours my God hath
blest.
Sunttiin i&ea&ttias for JSUin XXlf).
THE CHRISTIAN'S PATIENCE.
“ In your patience possess ye your souls.”—
| Luke xxi. 19.
The exercise of patience implies the ex
: istence of trials; and the Christian’s course
; is beset with them ; but when he has ob
tained the end of his faith, and there is
j nothing more to try his patience, he wiU
i acknowledge that there was not one thorn
; or briar too much in the wilderness, not a
! billow or wave too much in the ocean of
life. Note here
A duty. This respects the conduct we
I are to pursue as to ourselves—it is pa
tience.
It admits a painful truth. That believ
• ers in their afflictions are apt to lose or for
! get themselves by impatience, resentment
of injuries, wrath, and anger. How prone
are we to display the fretful temper of Jo
; nah, and say, “I do well to be angry in
, stead of heaping coals of fire on the heads
of those that offend us, to soften and melt
| them down!
It proposes a desirable course. Self-pos
! session. When we are easily irritated, and
our anger is kindled with every breath of
provocation, we not only expose our weak
ness, but often show our wickedness in
hasty words, unkind speeches, and un
christian deeds. Let our weapons of de
fence be, not wrath, hatred, and retaliation ;
i but patience pity, and prayer.
It shows how the object is to be obtained.
By the exercise of patience; this is better
; than resistance. Anger may glance into
j the breast of a good man, but rests only in
the bosom of fools. Fulgentius, after he
was extremely persecuted, had an advan
tage to seek revenge, but would not;
| “For,” said he, “ we must suffer more for
! Christ than this.” If we let the sun go
down upon our wrath, we must expect
clouds to shade the light of God's counte
nance. By resentment we take the law in
to our own hands; by patience we leave
our cause in the hands of him who hath
said, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay,
saith the Lord.”— Christian's Daily Treas
ury. t
A venerable minister, who has preached
some sixty-five years, being asked what
was the secret of long life, replied, “ Rise .
early, live temperately, work hard, and !
keep cheerful!’’
©HJ & lL [s If if is 1§ •
For Ricliai J’ W eekly Gazette.
THE FLIT CORRESPONDENCE.
NUMBER 53.
New York, May 9th, 1849.
My Dear Sir: The great domestic com
motion of the season is now subsiding;
one half of our population has again ex
changed homes with the other; and all are
settling down in peace and quietude until
the passage of another twelve months
shall once more set them agog.
This moving sport reminds one of those
juvenile games, in which, at a given signal,
every body vacates their seat to make a
rush for any other so that it be not the one
just left. Cards of address are now flying
through the posts, and people are exchang
ing mutual calls at their new abodes; the
visitor condoling with the visited upon
horrors passed, and congratulating her upon
the great advantages gained in removal—
so much more room ; so many conveniences
and such a charming neighborhood, so very
| near the omnibus route, Broadway and so
i on.
Luckily May-day, was unexceptionable
i in respect to weather, greatly mitigating
the dangers and disasters of the occasion,
i When it happens to be wet and cold at
i such a time, not only do the household
j gods suffer irrepaiable damage, but in more
! instances than are dreamed of, are health
and life lost by the consequent anxieties,
exposure and colds. The picture cannot
well be over-drawn of the confusion into
which so many families are annually
thrown by this absurd custom, bequeathed
to us by our sapient Dutch grand papas.
The practice is a standing theme of jest
and our city journals never fail, when the
occasion turns up, to indulge in a little
merriment at its expense. “For a week
after May-day,” says one satirist, “you
must make up your mind to drink your
| coffee oat of the slop pail and toilet your
whiskers with the stove-brush, so Bridget
has stuck every thing, for safety, in one of
the old barrels what went on the cart that
belonged next door.’ Beef steaks at this
season of the year, will taste somewhat
gritty, for while your wife just went next
door to borrow a shovel, the baby dragged
it out of the pan to ‘play house with.’ Any
one, who for the next three days, wishes
to advertise for lost dogs, lost children, lost
looking-glasses and lost tempers, will find
our columns at their service at the lowest
possible rates.”
Another journal says. “May-day is
again here, with all that complication of
horrors with which it is our fashion to
celebrate it. Such break-neck work as we
have had since Monday morning, was
surely never seen, this side of California;
All the day, from morning early,
Kerry thing is burly—burly ;
Pitching, heaving, tossing, tumbling,
BncrJng, g ,v',lli, g gI UUltMing,
Crying, screeching, fretting, worrying,
This way, that way, all are hurrying !
To those happy people who were not
tinned out of house and home, May-day
was a most welcome one ; ncVer was the
sun-shine brighter, and myriads of green
leaves suddenly unfolded themselves as if
to do especial honor to the occasion. The
numerous parks with which the city is
adorned, were particularly attractive, filled,
as they were, with hundreds of children,
anerry in every species of infantile sport;
trundling the hoop, jumping the rope, and,
here and there, dancing, as in the olden
time, around the gay May-pole garlanded
and crowned with 4 fresh flowers.’
Many, like myself, spent the day in re
ligious observance of its ancient spirit and
I customs, rambling over the neighboring
j hills and dales of Hoboken and Weehaw
ken; Happening to mention my picturesque
j purpose, at the breakfast table, I was in
| credulously challenged by a fair friend to
I make any floral conquests beyond dande
| lions; imagine then my triumph, when in
, the evening I proffered to her a mammoth
i bouquet of wild flowers, blending all the
; hues of the rainbow. Unfortunately our
climate precludes, excepting upon very rare
I occasions, the poetic custom so common in
j your more genial latitude, of celebrating
the birth-day of Flora, with the pretty ob
servance of crowning the May-Queen, and
j other woodland festivals. It is seldom
warm or verdant enough here, for such out
! of door sports, until the month of June and
sometimes scarcely before July.
It is not often that I 44 harrow up your
soul” with local villainy and crime, though
every day is fraught with instances. To
one extraordinary item of the kind, how
ever, I will venture to allude. Last week
| a carefully enveloped pacquet was left at
| the residence of a lawyer of this city : up
l on removing the wrapper, in presence of
j his family, the gentleman discovered asmall
j mahogany box, upon withdrawing the
j sliding cover of which, a blue sulphurous
| flame arose. He immediately ordered his
| family to fly for their lives, and followed
himself in all haste; in a few moments af
terwards a loud explosion ensued, which
upon examination was found to have been
caused by the friction of a large quantity
of powder and slugs, with which the mys
terious casket-was filled. These combusti
i hie materials were so arranged as to be fired
by sundry bunches of matches against which
the roughened inner surface of the lid ne
cessarily grated in opening. The bursting
of this new “internal machine” did very
great injury to the funiture and walls of the
apartment.
We are now in the midst of what is call
ed Anniversary week, during which time
are held the yearly meetingsof a multitude
of religious, moral and social societies,
whose branches ramify over every section
of the land : Bible, Tract, Mission, Sabbath
School, Moral Reform, Seamen’s, Temper
ance, Anti-Capital Punishment, Abolition,
Colonization and Fourierite Associations.
The doings of the past year are gloflfied
and two hours, more or less, of soul-stirring
eloquence is expended upon each object,
in urging upon its friends more active ex
ertions for the future. Important as are
the ends of some of these assemblies, others
are evil and that continually ; being noth
ing but hot-beds, some of silly, and others
of dangerous, passion and fanaticism. All
of them prove a great bore to many sinful
husbands whose orthodox spouses cram
their homes with unwelcome delegates—
who in pursuance of custom, arc arbitrari
ly quartered, during their stay in town
upon their unhappy resident sisterhood.
You will, I know, pity, with me, the poor
fellows, who thus find that they have mar
ried, not simply a whole family, but a
colonization society Fourierite association
or the entire Temperance cause! It is
marvellous what a rush of fair auditors
there is at these meetings—forming, often,
four-fifths of the whole congregation.—
Perhaps it is well that a legitimate oppor
tunity to indulge their love for the excite
ment of crowds, without doing violence to
the piinciples or prejudices which exclude
them from the ordinary public recreations,
is thus afforded to them. Punctillious la
dies who shudder at the mention of operas,
theatres and balls, have suffered incalcula-*
bly since the burning of Niblo's garden,
which being a theatre only in fact and not
one in name, they visited at their pleasure,
considering it as neutral ground, where
sanctity and sin could meet; a sort of half
way house between the world and the
Church. Niblo be praised! this lamented
and delightful and flower-twined whipping
post for “old gentlemen in black,” will
soon be again in all its glory—only more
so.. But for fear of consequences, I will,
my dear sir, forbear to venture upon the
fathomless sea of cant in a crowded city; j
and least of all the cant of morals and reli
gion. ;
On Friday last, a portion of our French
population celebrated the first Anniversary
of La Jlepublique Francaise. The toast to |
“ Louis Napoleon” drew forth more shrugs j
than cheers; though, in a more general;
representation of our Gallic residents, he
would probably have fared better, the
popular feeling being decidedly moderate
and conservative.
At the last meeting of the Historical So
ciety, Mr. Bartlett presented the original
account book of Robert Fulton, from which
it seems that he was anxious to find some
other name than the present for his great
invention, having procured a long list of
Greek words, from which to concoct a
compound term signifying “smoke boat,”
or something else of the kind. Another
member exhibited one of only six coins,
which were once struck at the United
States Mint, with an inscription on the
royal pattern, of “G. Washington, Presi
dent Ist, 1792.”
The great number of Shakspearc “read
ers,” now springing up, has given rise to
the expressions of 44 Every man his own
Mrs. Butiei “Fanny Kemble made ea
sy ;” “ Shakspeare without a master,” etc.
Speaking of 44 readings,” both Mrs. Butler
and Mr. Macready have read gratuitously
before the teachers of our Public Schools :
only think of the flood of “ legitimate
drama” now sweeping over our devoted
city r . On Monday night last, Macbeth was
performed in no less than three houses; by
Mr. Forrest, at the Broadway; Mr. Ma
cready, at Astor Place; and Mr. Hamblin,
at the Bowery.
My sheet has already grown so full,
that I will but add a few current municipal
statistics and facts, and then resume my
reading of Mr. Headley’s charming new
book of Life in the Wilds of the Adiron
dacks. I heard someone suggest that the
author should have called this work 44 The
Profane Mountains,” as a pendant to his
44 Sacred Mountains.” But such a title
would have been profane, indeed, so won
derful, and varied, and sublime, are the
works of the Creator, in those vast and
mighty solitudes. Perhaps, you may hear
thence from your friend, Flit, during the
coming summer.
But 1 am quite forgetting my statistics:
they will give your readers, who have nev
er visited Gotham, some inkling of the ex
tent of its commerce and population. Du
ring the first four days of the present
month, not less than one hundred and for
ty-one foreign vessels arrived at the port
of New York, landing more than twenty
five thousand emigrants!
Though over fifty fires occurred here in
April, we consider ourselves to have es
caped very well in that respect.
Despite the unusual health of the town,
nearly three hundred deaths were reported
for the week ending Saturday last.
In a few days, no less than three dis
tinct lines of telegraph—Morse's, Bains’
and House’s--will be in operation between
this city and Boston : and soon we shall
have equal means of electric communica
tion southward.
A few days ago, a number of massive
iron stores were thrown open to the in
spection of the public.
Great though the number of beautiful
stone-churches, which have been erected
here during the past few years, many oth
ers, equally rich and grand, are now in
progress; and the houses which line the
three long miles of Broadway—as, indeed,
of a hundred other streets—are daily grow
ing in grace, strength and stature : so that,
take us for all in all, we are, as the poet
beautifully says, “a great people.”
FLIT.
A BUTTON.
John, who is always too punctilious,
Got up, one morning, rather bilious,
And thus began to scold :
“ Say ! —where’s that button 1 you’re a *:.ifc
To worry out a fellow’s life—
How oft must you be told V 9
But madam with a ready wit
That cured her spouse’s angry fit,
Cried “ dearest, do not scoff
About that little button, John—
I really meant to put it on—
But then I— put it off
■am
SIGNS or A POOR FARMER.
He grazes his mowing land late in the
spring. Some of his cows are much past
their prime. He neglects to keep the dung
and ground from the sills of his building.
He sows and plants his land till it is ex
hausted, before he thinks ot manuring
He keeps too much stock, and many of’
them are unruly. He has a place for noth
ing, and nothing in its place. If he warns;
a chisel or a hammer, he cannot find it j
He seldom does anything in stormy weath
er, or in an evening. You will often, per,
haps, hear of his being in the bar roorr I
talking of hard times. Although he ha
been on a piece of land twenty years, ask I
him for grafted apples, and he will toll you I
he could not raise them, for he never hail
any luck. His indolence and carelessne>-j
subjects him to many accidents. He lose*
cider for want of a hoop. His plough
breaks in his hurry to get in his sead in sea
son, because it was not housed : and in har
vest, when he is at work on a distant par
of his farm, the hogs break into his garden ]
for want of a small repair in his fence. He >
always feels in a hurry, yet in his busiest ]
day he will stop and talk till he has]
wearied your patience. He is seldom neat I
in his person, and generally late at public]
worship. His children are late at school.]
and their books arc torn and dirty. He has!
no enterprise, and is sure to have no mon-|
ey; or, if he must have it, makes great I
sacrifice to get it; and as he is slack in hi-|
payments, and buys altogether on credit, h|
purchases every thing at a dear rate. You?
will see the smokecome out of his chimney
long after daylight in xvinter. His horse]
stable is not daily cleansed, nor his horse!
curried. Boards, shingles, and clapboards!
are to be seen off his buildings, month afte-S
month, without being replaced, and hi-I
windows are full of rags. He feeds hel
hogs and horses with whole grain. If hi ]
lambs die, or the wool comes off his sheep !
he does not think it is for want of care o:
food. He is generally a great borrower!
and seldom returns the thing borrowed*
He is a poor husband, a poor father, a poo j
neighbor, a poor citizen, and a poor Chris ]
tian.— Baltimore Farmer.
SIX REASON# FOR PLANTING kY
ORCHARD.
BY EDSON HARKNESS.
t. Would you leave an inheritance to]
your children I—plant an orchard. Ncj
other investment of labor and money will]
in the long run pay so well.
2. Would you make home pleasant—the,
abode of the social virtues?—plant an or-s
chard. Nothing better promotes among
neighbors a feeling of kindness and good-,
will than a treat of good fruit, often repeal
ed.
3. Would you remove from your chil-1
dren the strongest temptations to steal?—
plant an orchard. If children cannot ob
tain fruit at home, they are very apt to steal
it; and when they have learned to steal
fruit, they are in a fair way to learn to steal,
horses.
4. Would you cultivate a constant feel-i
ing of thankfulness towards the Giver oil
all Good ?—plant an orchard. By having]
constantly before you one of the groan-:I
blessings given to men, you must be har
dened, indeed, if you are not influenced by
a spirit of humility and thankfulness.
5. Would you have your children love
their home; respect their parents while
living, and venerate their memory when
dead: in all their wanderings, look back
upon the home of their youth as a sacred
spot —an oasis in the great wilderness oi
the world ?—then plant an orchard.
0. In short, if you wish to avail your
self of the blessings of a bountiful Provi-j
dence, which are within your reach, you
must plant an orchard; and when you do
it, see that you plant good fruit. Do not
plant crab-apple trees, nor wild plums, non
choke-pears: the best are the cheapest.
AMERICAN ORANGES;
The Mobile Herald says that since tlie.’
destructive hurricane in Cuba a few year;
since, the Mobile fruit market had been sup
plied chiefly with Creole oranges raised inj
that neighborhood, Pascagoola and on thej
“coast” near New Orleans. These oran
ges are generally larger than those raised
in the neighborhood of Havana, and much
superior in flavor. The Herald contend*
that a number of locations might be selec
ted on the bay and neighboring islands
where the orange would thrive admirably
and scarcely ever be injured by frost. 1*
instances the case of a person who realize*
from SBOO to 1000 annually from about
thirty orange trees cultivated in a garden
some miles south of that city. The fruiti*
said to be delicious and of most exqui ß **
flavor.
Economical Hair Wash. —Take one
ounce of borax, half an ounce ofcamph° r ’
powder these ingredients fine, and dissol u
ihem in one quart of boiling water ; “hen
cool, the solution will be ready for use--
damp the hair frequently. This wash no’
only strengthens and beautifies, but nsualh
cleanses the hair, preserves the color, and
prevents early baldness. This, we conc i lVfv
cannot be too generally made known
