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ed back, ami pressed her shrivelled hand over her eyes, as bewildered by the face she met upon her threshold. She looked again, and fainted. Eva sprung forward to raise the head of her aunt, hut, ere she could lift it, she was clasped to her father's heart. Yes, Edward Sherwood —the lost— the supposed victim of a horrid murder — stood beneath the roof of his sister’s cot tage, and looked upon faces changed by time, until he saw no familiar feature in cither. When the old dame had fully recovered from her swoon, and Eva was free from her bewilderment, Doctor Sherwood pro ceeded to give an account of his mysterious disappearance long years before. The tale was a brief one. and soon told. The inci dents which Mirick had related in prison ’ were strictly true. Soon after the conversation of the two friends had ended for the night, Doctor Sherwood was awakened by an effusion of blood from his nose. He tried to stifle it; bat, finding that the bed was becoming saturated by it, he concluded to go down in to the back yard, and try the efficacy of cold water from the pump, applied to the back of his neck, lie arose noiselessly, and, fearful of awaking his companion, forbore putting on his shoes. When he reached {lie door, he found that it was too tightly closed to admit of his pulling it open with his hand, lie pried it open with his pocket-knife, but, in doing so, dropped it upon the floor, and it was too dark to regain it. lie went into the yard, as lie purposed doing, and was standing by the pump, try ing to stanch the blood which flowed from his nose, when he was seized anil pressed on board “ a man of war,” which was then lying in the harbor.— Thus unhappily situated, he could send no note of tidings back to tell of his wjretchcd fate. He was conveyed to England, and from thence sent to India. In vain he tried to procure his release. It could not be ef fected, and so he dragged out long years in servitude At last, he procured, his free dom, and sought again his native land. Upon arriving at Charleston, he found that the grave-yard contained* all who were dear to him lliero. At length, after much inquiry, he succeeded in learning where his sister and child might be found. He imme diately sought their humble cottage, and his reception there is already known. When April came, with its soft sunshine and sweet flowers, there was a wedding in the white cottage of the Sherwoods. Eva had, in her father, found anew form to love, but it could not root out from her af fections the image of Richard, which had so long rested there. “Takeher,” said her father, as he clasp ed the hand of her husband, after the cere mony had been pronounced by the village ’.urate; “takeher, and go forth, loving and yoved. Be clad in moral excellence like a garment —keep ‘lie flame of love ever burn ing brightly upon the altars of your hearts; never suffer distrust of each others worth to come, twining, like a serpent, its cold folds around your hearts; and you will go on happily unto the end.” she For Richards’ Weekiy Gazc-tKv THE EGG HUNT. BY TIM WHETSTONE. lii the year 18 —, the Rev. Mr. , a celebrated Minister of the Presbyterian Church, and a teacher of much celebrity, kept a boarding-school for boys in a little , village, in the eastern part of the county of Elbert, which is remarkable, at present, ; for its morality. It is here that the scene : of our narrative is located. The village, at the period of which wc speak, had some thirty or forty white inhabitants within rts precincts. These citizens were industrious, moral and zealous, for the success of their town ; but, as is common in the embryotic state of all places, the accommodations were sparse, and the students had to be di vided between two gentlemen, who, in point of wealth, w ere the most reputable in the place. These gentlemen we shall de nominate, for our own convenience, Capt. Smith and Parson Jackson. They lived at the extreme points of the village, and, as the School was large, each had some forty young men as boarders. In the course of lime, quite a jealousy originated with these two classes, and they mutually enrolled themselves under two banners, bearing, as their mottoes, “Smith ites- ’ and “Jacksonites.” It was a per petual source of discord with these parties, which should have the ascendancy in eve ry thing pertaining to school-boy life.— The factions referred to, were led by two young men, known by the names of Tom Thornton and Jim Stark. They w ere just bordering on manhood, and possessed a vast influence over their respective tribes, and contributed largely to keep up their in testine strife. Tom was the leader of the Sinithites, and Jim of the Jacksonites —the former measured six feet, four, the latter not much short of it; and both, dubiousin reference to their strength, were more than willing that the test of manhood should reel with soma of the yoiyiger aspirants. | who were eager for a trial. Consequently, an Egg-Hunt was determined upon, and it was farther resolved that Billy Jones, a Smithite, and Ned Tucker, a Jacksonite, should wrestle for the appointment of the night to hunt, as some dispute had arisen in reference to that important item. The judges of the wrestle were the two chiefs, Tom and Jim ; and it was conceded that, whoever threw the best two and three, his chief should appoint the night of egg-hunt ing. At the fall of the teacher’s hammer for play-time, all hands hastened to the ground to see the wrestle. The parties were soon there, with coats off, and ready for the conflict. A ring was hastily drawm and they, hats off, stepped in. “Now,” says Billy, “don’t catch all under-holt, like a nigger.” “Anything is fair in war,” exclaimed Ned. Billy threw his arms around Ned with a terrapin-grip, and cried, with a stentorian voice, “By Jake, are you ready ?” “Ready, now —go it,” hallooed Jim. “No breaking holt,” vociferated Killy. “The back-lock on him, Billy,” cried Tom Thornton, at the top of his voice. “Give him the old snake,” exclaimed Jim, in tones of thunder. “ Now he'll bring him ; lie's got the old knee-lock on him;” muttered a little, puny urchin, at one side. The combatants soon closed the scene, by both falling on the side, when Tom ejaculated—“ dog-fall!” “ Not so!” hallooed Jim. It was finally determine 1 that it was a | “dog-fall,” and at it they went again; and, after a multitude of puffings, and blowings, and windings, and twistings, the wrestle was decided in favor of the Jack sonites. The appointment fur egg-hunting was ; made for the Thursday night following. The victor was elevated above the shoul i ders of his party, and carried to the resi dence of the Parson, in triumphal march, ! amid the plaudits of his friends. During I the procession, Tom Tnornton genlly r whis pered to a companion at his side : “ I will | make them halloo the other side of their j mouths, on Thursday night.” • The night of the hunt arrived. The moon shone beautifully, and the breezes i were odoriferous with the perfumes of Spring. The haunted house, about mid | way between the extremities of the village, r was the point of convention. The parties : met at an early hour; the place of hunt | ing, route, etc., were devised; all went I forth buoyant with hope. “I'll give ’em hell, to-night,” soliloqui zed long Tom Thornton. The first point of attack was the “hen i house” of old uncle Ben, a faithful old servant of the village, who had built his “ fowl-roost” upon the suburbs. Sentinels were posted, and the process of scratching was adopted as the best expedient, the nests being on the ground. After visiting | several chicken-houses, and coming off 1 minus, it was growing late, it was j ; thought best to move on with more veloci- j ty, and adopt a different mode of attack, scratching being injurious to the fingers. 1 , and very slow. The last point of visita- j j tion was Parson Jackson's hen-house“, j and, as but few eggs had been obtained— , not enough for a roast—Jim Stark thought j ■ the prospect at the Parson's excellent, as i he had heard the hens cackling at a des perate rate for several days, and, in addi tion to this, it was laying season. All j hands put out for the Parson’s hen-retreat, but, when they arrived, to their great mor tification, it was locked, and it could only be entered by violence. While cogitating upon the means of entrance, it was sug gested, and unanimously agreed to, that Tom Thornton should procure a fence-rail, he being tall and strong, run it under the side of the house, raise it upon his shoul der, and Jim Stark should crawl underand fill his hat with eggs. Tom stepped immediately to the fence t and supplied himself with a stout rail, which he inserted under the sill, and raised it. Jim slipped under, hat in hand, as soon as Tom made a sufficient opening. Jim had been in the sanctum sanctorum of Parson Jackson's hens but a few mo ments, when Tom cried out: ‘•Haste. Jim, it is confounded heavy.” “Hold, Tom,” said Jim, “eggsare plen ty, and we will have a good roast.” “Hurry, hurry, Jim; my shoulder will break, if I do not let it down,” said Tom. “ For Heaven's sake, don't let it down; 1 have but one more nest to rob,” returned Jim. “ 1 can stand it no longer,” ejaculated Tom ; and down the hen-house came. “ Boys, let me out,” said Jim, most pi teously. But the whole company had fled, and Jim's lamentation was not heard. At the fall of the house, the chickens began to cackle and fly, the faithful dog commenced a most menacing attack upon the house, the Parson was aroused from his bed, and, fondly congratulating himself upon the prospect of a fine opossum for dinner, the next day, he approached the chicken house with a good deal of velocity, light in hand; he stopped all the holesat which it was possible for the ‘■‘varmint''’ to es cape, and then, arming himself with a club, unlocked the door, when he espied, in one corner of tiie house, near a bundle of straw, the object of his search ; but lo ! it was a biped. Without uttering a word, he retreated, locked the house, returned to the dwelling, awoke several ladies, who were in the house, and requested their com pany to see the noble animal he had caught. The Parson and the ladies ap proached. Faithful old “Drummer” was yet baying his game. Jiin sought his time, and, just as the Parson opened the door, outlie jumped, old “Drummer” in pursuit, and made his escape, eggs, lmt and all—leaving the Parson and girls all alone in their glory. !QSMMIID§® I73SI@>W ©lSlilia Thus ended the memorable “Egg-Hunt.” We know not what was the fate of Jim, in after-life. He died, and his bones now lie in the bosom of his native State—Georgia. Tom grew up, adopted the profession of Medicine, and is now’ one of the most dis tinguished practitioners in the State. DUDGIiiG A MILITIA FINE. BY GEO. P. BURNHAM, JH. In days gone by, when objectionable militia laws were in force in Massachu setts, the customary draft was made in a country town, a few miles from Boston, and a notice “ to appear, armed and equip ped according to law,” was left at the house of a wag who possessed very little martial “music” in his soul. Determined that he would neither train nor pay a fine, and entertaining, withal, a very indifferent opinion of the utility of the system, he took no notice of the summons. Having been duly “ warned,” however, as he anticipa ted, at the expiration of a few weeks, the sergeant waited upon him with a bill of nine shillings for non-attendance at the mus ter. “You're fined, sir—nine shillings—non appearance.” “What is it?” asked the wag, pretend ing to misunderstand the collector. “Fine for not training!” bawled the other. “ Shan't pay it, fellow!” “It will be three dollars next time I call.” But the wag couldn't hear a word he said; and in the course of another month he received a peremptory summons to ap pear, forthwith, at a court-martial in the district, instituted for the purpose of try ing delinquents, and collecting such fines as could be scared out of the non-perform ers of duty. Having fixed upon a final plan to dodge issue, at the appointed hour lie waited upon the court, to show cause, if any he had, why he shouldn't willingly have toted a musket and knapsack about the town for twelve mortal hours, and oth erwise performed the legal duties of a live “patriot.” He was ushered into the court-room im mediately, which was held in an old coun ty-house—where he discovered some three or four persons seated, attired in flashy regimentals, and whose awful “ yaller epo lets” alone were sufficient to command the profoundest attention and respect of the beholder. Though somewhat disconcer ted at this rather unexpected exhibition of j spurs and buttons, he put a bold face on j the matter, as he responded to the junior | member of the august court; he advanced j to the table, and the chief functionry com- 1 menccd the examination : “Your name, sir?” | The offender placed his hand quickly to j the side of his head, without uttering a word or moving a muscle in his face. “What is your name?” repeated the questioner, in a loud tone. “ A little louder,” said the wag, without replying. 11 Name 1” shouted the Judge. “ Tauuton, Bristol county.” “What business do you follow?” “ Main street,” said the delinquent. “ Your business V’ yelled the officer. “ Right-hand-side, as you go up.” “ How long have you been there ?” “ About two miles and a half.” “ How old are you, old fellow ?” con tinued the Judge, nervously. “ Boss carpenter.'* “ What’s the matter with your ears ?” “ Dr. Scarpie's oil, sometimes.” “ What, sir ?” “ Sometimes Cure'em’s ointment.” “ Why don’t you answer.” “ Nearly five years.” 1 He's as deaf as an adder,” remarked the Judge, turning round to his subordi nates, earnestly ; “ clear the lubber out.” “ You are not liable to perform military j duty,” said the Secretary, with his mouth close to the wag’s ear. “ 1 know that,” said the fellow, coolly. “His hearing improves,” ventured the Sergeant. “What do you suppose we sit here : for ?” asked the Judge, in a loud voice, at i last. “A dollar and a half a day,” said the prisoner. “ He may go, Mr. Sergeant.” “ You may go,” said the under officer, pointing to the door. But our friend took no notice of the or der. “ low tony go /” yelled the Judge. “Is it possible a man can be as deaf as all that ?” “ 1 can't say,” continued the delinquent, pretending not to understand, “ but I should think” “Go—go !” screamed the Judge ; “there's nothing to pay. I pity the general who has a regiment like you to command. Show him the door, major 1” And our hero found himself at liberty. He was never again summoned to train during his residence in Taunton. | THE MUSICIAN AND THE BULL. Some years since, there lived in the city of B, a celebrated performer on the French- Horn. He was of German descent, but was nevertheless proud of America, the land of his nativity, and looked upon all imported musicians with bitter cortempt.— Mr. Roerbill was a great favorite with the people of B , and was invited to al most every entertainment given by the elite of the city. But sorry am I to say that the French- Horn was not the only eornttcopiary arti cle to which the great musician was devo ted. A horn of brandy and water was equally his delight, and an evening’senter tainment was scarcely ever closed, before lie had risen to a stale of beatitude, seldom attained by water-loving mortals. It was a cold night in December, when all the gay fashionables of li had as sembled at the residence of one of the wealthiest citizens in the vicinity of the city The party was a brilliant one, and the gifted Uoerbiil was in his glory. He never performed better in his life. He “outdid” himself- The soft and mellow tones floated from his magic horn, like the enrapturing strains of an enchanted isle. Gaily and joyfully passed the hours, until “the clock told the hour for retiring.” But, alas ! the truth must be told. Pool Mr. Roerbill! what ails thee now? Is it the inspiration of the music, or of the spir it-stirring draught too freely imbibed that causes thy eye to glitter so wildly ? Alas! I cannot tell ! But certain it is, that when Mr. Roerbill started on his homeward course, his vision was very “oblique,” and his steps, as Carlyle would say, a little “ojliquer.” Being, in that hour of bliss sonewhat fond of the line of beauty, he hat. proceeded but a short distance, before he lad wandered out of his way, and pres ent],- found himself in a field, where a large Dunam was wont to roam. As he man fully worked his way through the drifting snow, and staggered bravely onward, he was observed by the bull, who, —that is the bull—not liking this ill-timed invasion of his ancient domain, advanced menacing ly towards the intruder. Mr. Roerbill, by this time had met with an insurmountable obstacle, and fallen prostrate upon a bank of snow, which being observed by the in dignant animal, he halted; and, after proudly pawing the snow-covered earth, gave one loud, and not altogether unmusi cal bellow. The fallen hero turned his eyes upon the assailant, and after carefully sur veying his person, exclaimed in the most contemptuous tones : “Sir, you are an imported musician—hie —hie—you are, and nothing else. Sound A, sir; sound A.” “800-00-o!” roared the bull. “Sound A! I say, sound A,” replied Air. Roerbill. “ 800-00 !” repeated the bull. ‘•That aint A, you imported rascal,” cried the indignant musician. “800-00-00-o!” roared the bull, in still louder notes. “ Pretty good—pretty good! Now sound B, you foreign impostor,” cried Mr. Roer bill, at the top of his voice. But this time he received no reply- The infuriated animal, instead of obeying the mandate of poor Roerbill, rushed upon the fallen hero, and raising him on his horns, threw him twenty paces over a small ravine near by. Fortunately Roerbill alighted on another bank of snow, and was not much injured. He arose in a few moments, dash the snow from his face, and turning toward the bull, and indignantly shaking his fist at the still enraged beast, exclaimed : “ Sir, you may be a good musician, but, by the eternal, you are no gentleman !” (DIDIB JLBTMFBIBS. For Richards’ Weekly Gazette. BOSTON CORRESPONDENCE. Boston, May 28, 1849. My Dear Sir : —Last Friday morning, Washington Goode, convicted, about a year since, of the murder of a man named Harding, in Ann st., or the “ Black Sea,” as it is called, was executed in Leverett st. Jail-yard. During the last thirty-five years, twenty-six persons have been hung in this city, and this last “vindication of the laws” was the most horrible and disgust ing of them all. The culprit, a negro, was born amid the lowest haunts of misery and vice, reared among the worst charac ters, of both sexes, who infest the polluted sinks of a city, educated in villany under circumstances of the utmost squalor and wretchedness; and then, to complete the course of instruction, he served a campaign in the Florida war! What wonder, then, that he possessed none ot the mild and gentle characteristics which distinguish i those who germinate in the social atmos phere, with which pecuniary independence surrounds the recipients of Mammon’s bounty. Great exertions were made to saveGoode from the gallows. Petitions, praying for a commutation of punishment, were circu lated throughout the city and neighboring towns. These received, in the space of two weeks, the names of more than twenty three thousand persons! A hearing was then had before the Executive, at which the strongest reasons were assigned for not punishing the culprit with death, but it was of no avail, in this case. The Governor and Council declined to alter the verdict, and so he was hung. The night previous to the execution, the prisoner prevailed up on his keepers and the Rev. gentlemen to leave the cell, and thus allow him a few moments’ repose. While they were ab sent, with a piece of glass, which had probably been conveyed to him secretly, lie managed to cut the arteries of his arms, from which the blood flowed so freely, that, when the officers entered his cell, he was neatly dead. He did not want to die like a pirate, was the reply, when ques tioned as to his reasons. Long before the hour of execution, the vicinal streets were filled with persons anxious to geta glimpse of the gallows, if not of the victim, while the windows and roofs near by, with but two exceptions, were crowded with men and women, at the handsome price of one dollar per head. The victim was placed j upon a chair, being too weak to walk, and , thus carried to the drop, in a state of al- j most entire insensibility, occasioned by . terror and the loss of blood. The Sheriff asked him if he desired to say any thing, ! and, in reply, heard two nearly inaudible j groans. The deputy then cut the rope, and the murderer’s spirit was thrown hur- I riedly into eternity, amid exclamations of horror from those who witnessed the exe- [ cution. The papers state that the Slieriff and ; officers showed the greatest humanity for the prisoner, treating him very kindly; j which reminds me of an anecdote of an I aged widow lady, a friend of mine, whose favorite cat, in the coarse of time, had be come the mother of a number of kittens. Feeling unable to support so large a family of the genus felis, the old lady drowned all but the mother, in a pail of water. “How can you be ho cruel!” said I, knowing her professed tenderness for ani mals. “Oh! why,” she answered, hesitating ly, almost regretting the deed, “ the water was clean , for I just now drew it from the well.” E. A. Bracket, the sculptor, has just fin ished a plaster group called the “Wreck,” which, I think, will, when cut in marble, rank among the first works of American Artists. It represents a female, in a recum bent posture, as though thrown upon the strand by the angry waves. Her head falls back naturally, and her long hair, drenched by the surf, floats underneath, while her right arm is thrown over toward her head in such a manner as to give the Artist a fine opportunity to depict the mus cles. Her left arm encircles the body of an infant, in a way to illustrate most beau tifully the maternal instinct, triumphant even in the hour of death. The mother’s features are placid and natural, or, rather, they express something higher than the natural; for you seem to see the smiles of beatitude irradiating the last semblance of terrestriality. She has passed the strug gle for life, and has reached that point be tween death and decay, when the features still retain their purity, and the hovering lights and shades of life seem bidding fare well to the dwelling of material existence. Both figures are entirely nude, and they rest in such a position as to give one a fine chance to study the anatomy of the human frame. After an age of study, you might still find something new to admire. One can read a whole history in the group before him ; the wrecked vessel—the confusion — the rush for life—the last resort to the boiling waters—the mother struggling to preserve the life of her babe—and then, the final action of the waves in throwing the closely-locked bodies upon the shore. Yes, one can sit and read, till, forgetting himself ami the actualitiesof life, he weeps in sympathy. The conception of such a work should place theautho • among the fce-t designers in the world. What a pity, that he should be compelled toexhibithis statue in plaster, in order to raise funds to put it in marble. Our City Government are making every provision to keep the Cholera from visiting us. As yet, no case has occurred, though one old gentleman, frightened at its near approach, was taken to the hospital in a state of 1 know not what, but he soon recovered. Once a week, on a day ap pointed, the inhabitants of all the Wards let the Cochituate run for six hours, by which means the cess-pools and sinks be come, in a measure, cleansed. Officers are around, too, peeping into all the back yards and holes, where dirt can accumu late ; and woe to the poor citizen, who has neglected his duty. The pile of dirt in front of his door augurs rather badly for his neatness, and he hears Mrs. Smith, his neighbor, whisper to Mr. Jones to that ef fect, which, of course, to him, is public opinion. The Germania Musical Society gave its final Concert here, last evening ; on which occasion, Beethoven’s Grand Symphony, No. 2, in D. Major, and a New Overture, from Mendelssohn, were brought out. — This Society has found glorious success since its formation. Tedesco, whose warb lings so affected our people, when she sang in the Havana Troupe, has been de servedly decked with new laurels. W. L. Ayling opens the Athenaeum, to night, with those sterling English Operatic Singers, the Seguins. As the Bostonians have not heard that class of Music, for some time, it is thought that the attraction will be sufficientto ensure crowded houses. In the department of Books, we have nothing new. Oh! I ask pardon! VVe have something new, as “ The Botliie of Toper-na-Fuosich, a Long Vacation, (pity it hadn’t been shorter,) Pastoral, by Ar thur Hugh Clough,” will testify. It is written in the usual zig-zag, lazy-horse, and weak-go-cart style of hexameters, which makes one tread over the ground twice before reaching his destination.— However tolerable this attempt may be, its pastoral title is not sufficiently attractive , to entice one into its humid clover-fields; | so, I leave your readers to search for its ! beauties for themselves. A friend, who is acquainted with the circumstance, assures me that James Rus -1 sell Lowell wrote his “Fable for the Crit ics” expressly for the niece, or daughter, ! (I have forgotten which,) of Fuller, of the New York Mirror, to whom he gave the I copy-right. Mats en passant , in Holden, for June, there is a Pepeysian letter, so full of kind hits and witty sayings, sound ing, withal, so much like corresponding thoughts in the “ Fable,” that it is said none other could have written it than the author of the “ Vision of Sir Launfel.” Hear him chat about our “ Town and Country Club :”—“ The Club is a singular agglomeration. All the persons whom other folks think crazy, and who return the j compliment, belong to it. It is as if all | the essential particles, which had refused to revolve in the regular routine of the worlds, and had flown of!’ in different di j rections, had come together to make a j planet of their own. The discussions in j regard to a name were rather droll. A.,! (A. B. Alcott,) whose orbit never, even by | chance, intersects the plane of the modern earth, proposed that we should call our- - selves “Olympians.” Upon this, I sug-1 gested te W. H. C., (W. 11. Channing,) who sat next me, and who seemed uncon-! scions that I was not perfectly serious, that, as the Club was composed chiefly at’ Apostles of the Newness, and as we hoped i to aid in crushing some monsters, we should 1 call ourselves, (if we must be antique,) the Club of Hercules. A., meanwhile, finding that his Olympian tack met with a head wind, wore ship, and proposal ‘Pan,’ as, perhaps, simpler and more accessible to the ordinary intellect. Hereupon, I again mod estly suggested that, as we were to have a case annexed, or to annex onrselves to a case , the name Coffee-pot would be apter than Pan, unless we prefixed thereto the distinguishing Christian name of Patty.” Au re voir, Boston jen. A LETTER FROM TOBAGO. A correspondent sends us the following let ter—-which appeared in the Charleston Courier —with the suggestion that it may be interesting to our readers, as a graph ic account, both of the city ot Panama and of the state of affairs there at this time. We copy it with pleasure. [Ed. Gazette. Tobago, April 20, 1849. “ Dear sir : I wrote you from Gorgona (I think on the 28th ult.,) by Capt. Budd. I was far from being well at the time, or I would have written you a much longer letter. Immediately after our arrival there, w T e started for Panama, which took us two days to accomplish, and a more fatiguing walk I have never had. Our boating from Chagres was most delightful, passing through scenery that can scarcely be sur passed, for beauty, in any part of the world. There was at one time on the river one t#in dred and eleven boats, containing (each) four whites and from two to five blacks. Whilst at Gorgona, l went to the top of a hill, and on looking below, on the opposite side, I imagined that I was in a fairyland. There were assembled about forty of the most beautiful Indian girls, bathing, that I have ever beheld. “We had great sport on the river. Two men in our boat shot seven alligators in one morning, and we counted, dead and alive, eighty odd, and monkeys, panthers and parrots in quantities. Fruits, such as or anges, pine apples, figs bananas, plantains, guava, cocoa nuts, &c., in abundance. “ Our sport, however was not to last, for the walk from Gorgona to Panama was just the reverse of what we had experien ced so far. The mere walking was noth ing—it was the dead rnnles that we met at every ten yards that nearly gave us the fe ver. On arriving at Panama, we could get no boarding house, and there being no wheeled vehicles in the place, we pitched our tents in the middle of the street , (to me great fun.) We got there at night, and af ter being in bed, an hour we were roused by most delightful music, which proved to be a Catholic procession, on their way to administer the last rites to a dying person. I thought that they were serenading some fair one, but on looking out l saw a gorge ous canopy of gold, under which was the Priest, having in his hand the host, and around him about five hundred boys, with lighted tapers, headed by the music, con sisting of violin, basses, trumpets, flutes, &c. Thursday before last, being holy Thursday, they paraded for a second time, S imitating Christ’s entry into Jerusalem. | On the day following (Good Friday) they : had a much greater affair of it. At day light the bells .of all the churches, seven teen in number, commenced ringing, (some ; of these churches, are in a state of decay,) ; but mass is said in every one of them, and ! several of them are magnificent specimens ! of architecture, not one of them having less than six altars—the Cathedral has four teen, sixty silver candlesticks, from three to six feet in length, and an altar (the grand one) of solid silver, monasteries and nun j neries in abundance. At eight o’clock the j cannons were fired, which was the signal for the military to start from the plaza to the Cathedral as an escort. As soon as they arrived, they formed a line on each side of the grand entrance, through which the governer and suite, and the heads of all the principal State Departments, passed in to the Church to receive the body of Christ. Then came the sights. First twelve wrapped up from head to foot in black, gla zed cambric, with a crown of thorns on the head, each carrying a rough pole, 30 feet in length—these are called “ penitents.”— Then came fifty boys, in surplices of white muslin, each carrying a cup (silver) of in cense, after which came ten Priests, read ing psalms. Secondly, a large crucifix, (surrounded with lighted candles,) carriq” by negroes, on a large platform covered with black cloth. This was followed by all the grandees of the town, without hats, (men.) Third, fifty girls with incense, then the Bishop, and every other Priest that could be started, all arrayed in splen dor, followed by an image of the Virgin as large as life, covered with pearls and dia monds. She was followed by all the high er class of young ladies, with veils on their heads, and in splendid costume. One of them, the Signorita Hortado, had dia monds around her waist to the amount of $14,000, independent of those on her head, arms, fingers, neck and ears. Pearls here are very common—l saw one sold here for j $3, which ought to bring in the States, SSO. They tell me that they are fifty per cent cheaper than they were before the Revolu tion. A merchant here, Mr. Feraud, lost over $70,000 on one shipment to Europe. “ Now that I have told you of the sights. I shall tell you of myself. After having our tents nicely fixed, we were ordered to take them up, and not being able to pro cure lodgings, we were compelled to go to this small Island, Tobago, where we are ; snugly fixed, or as I call it, tightly packed, I ten in one room, at a railes (10 cts.) a j piece per diem. There are now on the Istli- j inns 2000 men, out of which but one half ■ have tickets. There are no vessels here, although fourteen large ones are looked I for daily. Day before yesterday, tickets j were sold for the three ships telegraphed, ■ at $350, and sold second handed for SSOO : 1 but matters cannot continue thus; some men have gone to Callaotq,procure vgssels> but that is very farfrom-hgre. The steam- er California, from San Francisco, which was due on the first, has not yet arrived, and there is much anxiety felt for her, her tickets have been sold here at an advance of S3OO on first cost. 1 There is much sickness at Panama, we have nad eight or ten deaths since the last week, all Americans. lam afraid to move unless it is in the cool of the day; many of the emigrants here are returning to the States, and many have not the means to move one way or the other; vice of every description is prevalent here. One American lost SI6OO in one night; and, asforthieves, there are more here than in any place 1 have ever known. Fur Richards’ Weekly Guzette. OCEAN. SUNSET. Von wintry sun Rings o’er his tomb, And winds begin his dirge, While Darkness comes with wings of gloom Far o'er the lonely surge,. O ! helmsman, be the compass straight, And true the quivering helm ; For storms afar our course await, And sens our bark to whelm. NIGHT. Slow settling on the sombre deep The heavy Night comes down ; I see no stars thoir watches keep Through its portentous frown. From the black wilderness around, Deep, hollow mutteriugs come, And rumbling echos far resound Throughout the murky dome. MIDNIGHT. Hoarse herald-blasts their challenge blow, And sound their trump of fear; The frotted waves ta meet their foe, Leap from their gloomy lair — Till air, and sky, and angry deep, Give forth their awful cry; Below, the seas in thunder sweep— The thunder’s voice on high. DAWN. The Dawn is here—unveil’d, her light Comer o’er the billows’ play, And storm and cloud that came with Night, With Night have passed away : From ocean, roused by gales no more, Low sobbing murmurs rise, As hearts whose grief but late is o'er, Will heave unbidden sighs. MORNING. Far o’er the bright empyrean ca t, llow calm its deepened blue ; So shall the heart, when sorrow’s past, Its glorious life renew. And it the brightest day must part, And storms the night prolong, This faith shall light the gloomy hc.rt, And make the spirit strong. Charleston, S'. C. (}, & IS ib 88 fl <D Si Si Sititban Utabuiss—foe .June EX. FEAR AND CONFIDENCE. “ What time I am afraid, f will trust in thoo.' 1 Psalm Ivi. 8. The circumstances under which this Psalm was penned are of the most trying description. David fled from the fury of Saul to Gath, and there fell into the hands of the Philistines. You may read the his torical account in 1 Sam. xxi.lo, 11. In the passage we have A season of distress. “ What time lam afraid.” This was a time of fear to David, and there are periods in the history and ex perience of the believer when he is afraid. His fears arise from various sources. Personal affliction. “The heart know eth its own bitterness. How many mourn in secret, and have their silent misgivings, with which none but themselves are ac quainted ! Perhaps there is a long and protracted illness, a sudden reverse of cir cumstances, or some unexpected visitation of distress which causes fear and trembling Relative trials. There is much to try us in connection with the world and man k*l"!—in our families and social circles How often does death snap asunder the most tender ties, and treachery betray the most sacred trust! Some have to mourn the death, and others the impiety and un concern, of relatives. Mental distress. Christians have not on ly their outward btrt inward sources of fear; and these arise from the tempta tions of the great adversary, and the re mains of corruption within. Turn from the dark to the bright side of the subject, and notice A source of relief. “ I will trust in thee.” Confidence in God is calculated, to alia) our fears. Look at Its object. It is God himself. In the season of distress, yon may as well attempt to rest on a straw, or be defended by a shadow, as to seek solid relief from the world; There must be confidence in bi perfection, covenant, word, promises, and grace. Its nature. How is it to be exercised Entirely—some try to divide their conli dence between God and the world; bud wo must restall on him, and let no other trust intrude. Joyfully—for there is everything in God to excite such a feeling. Contin ually—we must never, give up our hold “ Cast not away your confidence, which hath great recompense of reward.” Its reasonableness. Who cau lay a greater claim to our confidence than he in whose hands our breath is, and whose are all our ways ? The character oft God, the testimony of his word, and the experi ence of his people,, all upite to show reasonableness—death, judgement am! eter nity will j>rove it.