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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