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bright, in tier appearance. Thought was
stamped upon her brow, for Hope was ex
changing the flowers am! smiles with
which she had wreathed Time, for tire
dried leaves and sighs of a sad experience.
Blame-me not, my reader, for exhibiting in
Getrevra’s twelvemonth’s experience, the
lifetime experience of many women. Does
she not sigh, when engage 1 in the domes
tic duties of her family? or shew a shade
of care when seated at the hospitable
board ? Vet, woman-like, devotion-bums j
like a sacred flame within her hreast, and ’
she dares all things, because she loves.
She had become not cold, but more cal
culating. The chilling, hitter breath of
disappointed ambition was yet to deaden
her heart, and lay in an eternal rest the
life-throb of her soul. Her father had left
her in anger, because of the wild specula
tions of Dupont—believing that she en
couraged him to pursue the course he did.
Her brother was at College, pursuing the
studies of his Junior vear with credit and
honor to himself. He wrote often, but re
ceived no response. She wrote often to
him, but her confiding heart met no re
turning confidence. Was she forgotten
and alone—without the sympathy of those
who used to overshadow her young heart
with the fond, devoted love of protectors?
The winter, spring and summer had fled,
and her honev-moon had passed with their
earliesf hours into the forgotten past.
Now, for the first time, they are without
company, and Genevra is seated by her
cottage fire alone. The crisp leaves of
Autumn tremble on the trees, and fall in
fitful sh ixvers, as the November winds rush
by in their fury. Sea-birds of various
kinds dip their wings in the foaming wave,
and rise in clouds, filling the air with their
wild, discordant voices. Genevra rises,
and presses her beautiful broxv, in thought
ful emotion, against the glass of the win
dow sash. She views the clouds that are
hurrying in wild confusion across the sky;
ihe wide expanse of marsh, with Autumn's
stamp on its brown leaves, bending to the
powerful blast : the river-tide, rising with
irresistible strength, and met by the oppo
sing winds, moun's up in waves, which
foam, and dash, and roar—while, from the
east, across the island may be heard the
never-ending rush of the mighty ocean.—
These seem ominous sounds to her young
diut care-worn spirit. Yet Hope has not
deserted her breast; and although she
looks with dread upon the future, she al
lows the gentle influence to penetrate her
soul. While absorbed in thought, and
dwelling with uncertain hopes upon the
future, she sees her husband advancing up
the narrow path leading from the landing
place. She looked with a moment’s pride
and exultation on his noble form, manly
and graceful in the extreme. The wind
blew aside his jet black hair from his j
wide, expansive brow. There was majes- j
ty stamped there—the majesty of powerful
intellect alone. The moral sentiments
were untrained to noble effort—the animal
propensities were untutored by self-control
prejudices were strong: and over all.
conscience held no sway.
Genevra had had strange experiences of
married life ; so strange, that now her first
impulse was to seat herself, and teem very
much engaged with her needle. ( onstant
occupation had been always expected, if
not always demanded, of her.
Dupont approached Genevra with much
more consideration than usual, lie even
playfully took her hand, while he said—
“ Genevra, I must take you away from
all this work, and shew you abroad again,
or you will be forgotten, tny little wile. ’
“ So you do not forget me, 1 care not if I
am forgotten by others,” said Genevra, in
a quiet tone ; but her eyes spoke the idol
atry of her heart.
“ You have performed j our part well,
since you have been here.” said Dupont;
“and now I think we must accept the kind
invitations of our friends, and make a tour
among them.”
“Oh ! Dupont, please let us Stay at home
and enjoy some quiet comfort,” said Gen
evra.
“1 love not quiet comfort, Mrs. Dupont,
and therefore my resolve is fixed to go,”
sail Dupont.
“ Besides,” responded Genevra, with un
wonted perseverance, “ my brother’s vaca
tion is near, and I am so anxious to see
him.”
“ Well, madam, choose between your
brother and myself,” said Dupont. “ Jle
member, I leave in to-morrow’s boat,” and
thus gajing, lie coldly left the room.
Left to herself, she sighed over the dear
remembrances of youth, struggled and con
quered. for one who knew of the struggle,
and who expected conquest. Did Genevra
foolishly believe that she could decide for
herself? Yes, in her unsophisticated mind,
she believed not only that she could act as
she pleased, but that Dupont desired to give
her pleasure. This iast was the greatest
infatuation of all, and the solitary hours of
the future were j'et to reveal to her the
weakness of her trusting heart.
That evening, Genevra was busied with
her packing ; the next, she was lar south,
tossing on the briny deep. They visited
together the same scenes they had visited
a year before, but how changed was Gen
evra! The poetry of life had (led!—the
poetrj’ of feeling had nearly ceased to ex
ist! Instead, now, of believing herself
the centre of joy to him she shil idolized,
she found that he was the sole centre of
attraction to himself, while she shone with
uncertain life, at the very verge of bis so
lar system. Yet, like a planet ever true
to the central power, she turned involun
tarily still to him for direction and for light.
Dupont lived for the world, and the ac
complishment of his designs. He was ev
idently seeking popularity. in this lour
among his friends. The triumphal march
of a conqueror could not have been attend
ed with gieater success, for his fine appear
ance and elegant manners, together with
the wonderful store of knowledge he had
perfectly at command, extended his influ
ence over all with whom he associated.—
Besides this, he manifested great philan
thropy. lie bestowed, with a lavish hand,
his charity to the needy, and his promises
of patronage to those who needed employ
ment.
They visited extensively on the sea
board ; for on every island of importance
on the coast rrf Georgia, and also on the
main, were many families of wealth and
influence, who were eager to enjoy the so
ciety of such distinguished and agreeable
visitors as Mr. and Mrs. Dupont.
If Genevra had been wiser in worldly
pnlicj'—if she had not been so blinded by
her devoted love and a false feeling of
submission—she might have taken many
hints, that would have saved het the bitter
lesson of after-life.
With a more graphic pen, the fate of
many women might be sketched—and why
should they not be? Should the truth be
kept from view, because there is a false
glazing over the exterior of things? While
they are written with the point of a dia
mond on woman’s soul, must her lord be
lulled to rest with false ideas of his own
perfection ? Do vve not dare say to them,
“We long for equal domestic rights”?
May we not be permitted to say to our
law-givers, “Aid us to educate our chil
dren, to elevate them, to make them such
citizens as they should be” ? May not the
laboring woman say, “Secure to me the
fruits of my labor for this glorious pur
pose” ? May not the more wealthy say,
“Aid me in instilling correct principles in
to my children. Let not my sons believe
they may lead an inert life, if they only
marry n fortune ; or tny daughters learn
to yield, without a struggle, every’ right
and every consideration of an intelligent
being” ? Have we not seen men, whose
whole souls were engrossed with their own
pleasures, their own tastes —who would
i lay aside the immediate good of their fam
ily, and even their comfort, for the gratifi
cation of a selfish passion ? Have we
never seen the first ladies of the land living
on a pittance, surrounded by their own
property, sold to strangers —a prey either
to the mismanagement or folly of their
lords ? Did you never see one, noble in
her own moral excellence and in the esti
mation of her friends, quietly yield one
thing after another, till all that was left
her was the pity and sympathy ol her
friends ?
In a part of the country where such pro
perty is looked upon as the well-earned
monopoly of the fortunate suitor, these in
stances are too thickly scattered to record.
They are in the upper circles, surrounded
with all the legal hindrances to imposition,
as well as strictly guarded bj’ solicitous
parents or guardians. Yet, one word of a
weak, loving woman, brushes away the j
tears, the prayers, the anxious solicitude, j
of generations past.
Well do I remember a beloved daughter
—one on whom was centred the hopes and j
tender affections of devoted parents. She !
married a spendthrift, while they were yet !
alive ; and in prospect of leaving her, they ;
were particularly anxious to guard her
from future want. You may think it a
fancy sketch, when [tell you that at the
midnight hour—his lamp held in a trem
bling band—his tall form tottering with
the infirmities of age, and with the anxie
ties of a mind ill at ease—her father was
seen to move silently and sadly to his
desk. He extracted a papei from its mys
terious depths, which were very, very soon
to be unfolded before the world ; and as he
reads it very carefully, we may see the
marks of care, as well as age, on his fur
rowed and anxious countenance. As he
progresses, his eye lights up with confi
’ dence in the security of his child, and others
! beloved ; adds a codicil ; consigns it to its
place of safety, and then passes away for
ever. This, my friends, was a settlement!
a mere mockety ! as facts 100 truly and too
sadly prove.
These are not isolated facts, but so gen
eral, that even the sound of them may not
| with impunity be whispered to the world.
To prove that the abuse of this protection
, is general, we have but to refer to isolated
instances of opposition. Who then is blam
ed ? The woman. Though she may have
giv en all but her capital, to be spent bj’ a
prodigal and unwise hand; though she
may endn're personal and domestic priva
tions, that none but she may ever know,
still the world condemns her. She is
thought masculine, mercenary and selfish.
Genevra was young, and certainly ex
cusable for looking only on the bright side,
for as she visited one family mansion after
another, there was only apparent the false
glazing of the exterior ; but the experience
of others was soon the experience of Genev
ra. and then her eyes were opened to the
realities of life.
We will not deny that there are inanj%
morally excellent and good, carried along
in the whirlpool of custom and ol circum
stances ; but this is no excuse for what is
immorally wrong in itself. The founda
tions of society must be defective, where
the superstructure is so oflcn devoid of ex
cellence and worth. Marriage is a sacred
relation ; but when made an excuse, or
cover, for dishonest and selfish purposes, it
loses this character. It is, then, like a
desecrated temple, shewing through its ru
inous siiies only the lingering light of pa
rental love.
[Concluded next week.]
il Have you got Mitford’s Greece,!”
asked a lady of a bookseller s lad, who
was rather raw.
“ No, ma'am,” replied the latter, we don't
keep no grease here ; but you can get it at
Barney 0 Drippen’s, the grocer, on the
next corner,”
iti“Well, Sam, I am going away and
shan't see you again till next week. 1
must bid you farewell.”
“ Pshaw ! Only till next week! Don't
make buclt a great adieu about nothing,”
n][|0IOBlE)8 a Wiisat ItSio
W ft is3.
For Richards’ Weekly Gazette.
A LETTER FROM THE UP-COUN
TRY.
Gainesville, Sept., 1849.
Mr. Editor : Allow me, if you please,
through the medium of j our paper, to of
fer a few thoughts in reference to a sub
ject on which other more modest writers
have hinted—l mean the spirit of com
plaint and dissatisfaction manifested by
some of the many visitors for health and
pleasure at the places of common resort in
the up-country of Georgia. Your own ex
perience and observation have perhaps in
duced you to remark on the same subject.
Be that as it may, respective and responsi
ble persons will support the sentiments I
offer j’ou.
Many portions of our beautiful State
; have been themes for the romantic and po
etic topographer, but no voice of praise and
1 compliment has been beard from the moun
tains. Are there no attractions here—no
natural wonders of grandeur and beauty—
no accommodations—no hospitality? The
disdainful children of luxurj’, discontented
j everywhere and under all circumstances,
| would answer —none. These persons are
Ia class sui generis, some of whom may be
} found almost anywhere, particularly in
i communities of suddenly acquired wealth
and distinction. The faults of such are in
I some degree common to their fellow men,
in a chrysalis state which only requires
| the gentle rays of better fortune for per
fect ion. The proper advantages of wealth
i are rarely estimated as they should be, but
the persons particularly alluded to arc egre
| giously at fault in valuation of dollars and
j cents. Their method of computation must
be different from the good folks in these
regions of poverty and ignorance. They
| recognise nothing equivalent to money—
neither talents nor righteousness, because,
probably, tliej- are foreign commodities,not
; found at home. They all swim “apples
J together,” however different their flavor
and origin. They have no generous sen
timents beyond their own state. This
1 fault of education demands censure for it
j self and pity for those indulging it. Their
! youngest children are excessively nice in
! their tastes, and they curl their little lips
and noses with exquisite grace at all that
savors not of the highest clarified and rec
tified. Some of the little ones never have
, the golden spoons taken from their dainty
’ lips, and the consequence is, vve see over
! grown babies occasionally, to whose deli
neate natures the children elsewhere seem
Ito be altoiether extrageneous. lam stir
j prised that they ever leave their vines and
| fig trees to find our sparkling waters, foi
j certainly the invalid clergymen, widows,
i bachelors, and old maids who come with
! other and better motives are far more a
-1 greeable to honest sympathetic people.—
i They have stronger claims to the pleasures
i and advantages of nature. The others
J are not dependent in feeling or condition
|on society. Thev are all in all” having
a predominant love of the world’s goods,
of which they constitute a prominent part,
i They are wedded to themselves and imag-
I ine creation singing an epithalamium. VVith
; out them there would be no intellectual
I men of fortune, fiire I e gal ant, nor pretty
I brilliant heiresses, no fancy balls and
fashionable amusements to while away
i the tedious hour, wearisome, because
there are no intelligent citizens here to in
j terest such spiritual beings of ease and
( dignity. They seldom find any solid com
i fnrts, often none of the necessaries of
life.
Now the reason tha’ no eloquent, witty
correspondence has been given to the pub
lic on the virtues of Limestone, Chalybeate
and Sulphur Springs near Gainesville, the
handsomest, healthiest village above Ath
ens, and on the atmosphere and the divers
ified and beautiful scenery around Clarkcs
ville, is easily discerned.
The humble villager of the up-country,
has so often heard discouraging expres
sions of dissatisfaction from visitors, that
anything else would appear to be irony.
There are those who would have shown
their humor and descriptive talent, for
those in search of that stolen treasure —
health, but the complaint and supercilious
expressions of corpulent, fidgettj', gouty
men of luxury have made the honest con
valescent, praise anything but good diet,
good air and good water in a good country.
Among those alluded to are some who
“would have gone North but for the epi
demic ” They are much disappointed in
the comforts and conveniences they have
found. They should exercise more rea
son and discretion. What could they
have expected ? There are yet no Epicu
rean innovations upon the good old tastes
of the Borlarians of North Georgia. The
luxuries of the islands of the seas cannot
yet be afforded by them. They are igno
j rant of all the spicy varieties oi seasoning
j in the culinary art, and of shady, fashion
i able retreats for elegant dissipation. There
must first be an influx of those who can
afford such indulgence. Spend your mon
ey nearer home every summer, and our
wilderness will blossom for you as the
l rose, and make you a suitable return, how
ever peculiar and excessive your appetites
may be. Cannot men for one season for
get the dear comforts of a cotton or rice
plantation infested with malaria fatal to a
man of mens sana in sano capo r e ? Can’t
they forget their flesh pots, amid the moun
; tain streams and panoramas of Habersham
and Hull, under the shadow of Yonah and
in hearing of Tallulah and Toccoa ? tVliat
excellent judges of the comforts and pleas
ures of life! If you had been born on
the Alps and bred on the Rhine, such con
tempt for the beautiful and sublime might
be disregarded ; but foreigners of better
blood have been honest enough to express
the greatest admiration of our Mountain
wonders without one word of complaint.
To these prurient earnalists—disaffected
contemptuous analysts of others’good things
—praters on the affinity of beefsteaks,
plum puddings, wine and soda—tanll-find
ers with all not sac-similes to their own
household, to these the good people of these
wild-woods would say—go anywhere ra
ther than come here. The worse infected
districts of cholera would be well adapted
to such courteous croakers. By such peo
ple the prejudices of a whole community
are excited, and the consequence is, stran
geis from different sections of country are
the indiscriminate sharers of an undeserved
odium. This is the cause of that want of
sociality among residents in up-country
villages, remarked by persons from below.
Opportunities very often are given for
just complaint, but it is the part of discre
tion not always to use them. Men of
good sense do not expect to find in the
back-woods of anew countrj’, a free and
common indulgance in the pleasures of the
table. They know that homes for the
traveler, affording all that heart could wish
in sickness and in health—dainty food
and delicious drinks—large and ventilated
apartments, are in any country like oases
in a desert. Measures are often mistaken
for comforts. Such comforts as affluence
sometimes give, are ruinous to health and
happiness, and few of them are found a
mong the mountains of Georgia. When
seekers of such comforts have whirled long
enough in the merry dance, steeped their
senses long enough in rosy wine and pois
onous exhalations, and pampered their
fastidious, supercresent tastes over varie
ties of flesh,fish, fruits, and little delicacies,
—then comes the dull-eyed,phlegmatic,tor
pid valetudinarian victims of your folly,
away from your comforts, to the rough and
wholesome fare of the mountains, to a
feast of reason and flow of soul, over good
milk, cream, fresh butter and com bread,
good venison, mutton, lamb, and as pure
water as ever trickled from a mountain’s
crevice. This bill of fare might be exten
ded for the good of the gross and abandon
ed to the flesh ; but the intellectual and
poetic may have food less material, and
more satisfactory than the food of the
gods. Who could not fast for forty days
on the brink of Tallulah’s chasm ! There
is a store inexhaustible for the mind.
The good and virtuous may theie com
mune face to face with the author
of beautj’, sublimity and solemn grandeur
before them. The sensual may taste a joy
ous inspiration which he does not under
stand.
You who would recover health, take
more exercise on horseback and on foot,
and you will be less disposed to murmur at
your rough fare. Wander along the mer
ry rivulets, climb at sunrise and sunset the
mountain and hill sides—carol with the
birds, sip the dew from the glittering leaf
and laugh with nature. (Jo through Naucoo
ehee, see its mounds, meadows and fields
between mountains green with all the va
riety of foliage, and fading, softening lights
and shadows. Ascend Yonah, overlooking
the valley, stretching far away in the deep
distance below. Thence with a guide go
by a road shaded by tall hemlocks, pines
and cedars at the bases of towering moun
tains on either side, to the top of Tray ;
drink from the source of the Chattahooche,
hear the tinkling bells of sheep and cattle,
grazing quietly below, on the long green
flowery grass; look above the scrubby
oaks, and see on one side the vallej’ just
left, and on the other the valley of the Hi
wassee buried deep among mountains ris
ing higher and higher around it and cast
ing their long dark shadows across its
fields, which like gardens are separated bj
stream and fence. The painter and poet
might sit here for hours in a hermit’s ab
straction.
But pen or pencil cannot tell all the
truth. Every Georgian has much here to
see and he proud of, and he should he a
shamed if he cannot forego a few conven
iences at home or elsewhere to come and
come again.
A GEORGIAN.
U & If jVY*
For Richards’ Weekly Gazette.
AN IMITATION
Os pat tof Hon R. H Wilde'*, “ We all have
memories that we fondly cherish .”
BY ROBERT A WHYTE.
We nil have sweet bright memories—
Some denr memorials of the past:
Relics of days that never perish.
While life and hope and memory last.
The traveller seeks in every fav’rite spot,
Something that will recall it to his view ;
A pebble from Niagara’s sounding shore.
“ Fragments of Rome, —a flower from Water
loo !**
Thus it is ever—in the soul’s outgushings.—
In memory’s past and future hope we live :
Time’s sweetest gifts are hopes and recollec
tions—
Gifts we have ere this given or hope to give.
And from our prize 1 collections — such as this ,
What bright-eyed hopes —what memories start
Hopes that light the eye with bliss,
Or lie like blossoms on the heart.
“Stella!” may My col lection long increase,
Filled with the thoughts of many a friendly
mind
Thoughts full of friendship, truth and peace,
In spirit pure—in meaning kind.
Silver ton, S. C. 1849.
> i
- Richards’ Weekly Gazette.
EPIGRAM.
Something in Ephraim’s ca e leaves room for
hope—
-11 ? hung himself, uud saved the State the rope.
COCHINEAL.
This beautiful dye drug, is an insect, the j
Coccus Cacti of Lime us. When first intro- j
duced into Europe, it was thought to he a
vegetable seed. It lives upon the cactus, :
and the greatest quantity of it used to be
raised in Mexico. Two kinds of it are j
gathered, the one wild the other cultiva- !
ted; the wild is inferior to the cultivated
kind. The males of the insect have wings j
and are seldom found in the cochineal of
commerce. The female insect has no
wings; she is of a reddish brown color, ]
with a hemispherical wrinkled back. The ‘
species of cactus on which the cochineal
insect attains to the greatest perfection, is
named the cactus cochenilifer. It has red i
and crimson colored fruits. When the
Spaniards arrived in Mexico, they found
the natives well acquainted with the use
of cochineal as a coloring drug. In 1759 j
John Ellis, F. It. S., of London, received j
from Dr. A. Garden, of Charleston, S. C.. j
some joints of the cactus with the nests of j
the insects upon it, which were laid before j
the royal society, and along with the
plant and insects, Dr. Garden sent a very
minute description of his investigations in
to the habits and form of the insect. There
are two varieties of the true nopal cacti , in
Mexico, on which the insect is raised, but
the wild kind when cultivated and raised
upon the special kind (Castilian Nopal,)
becomes about half as good as the other.
The nopals or cacti on w hich the cochine
al insects are raised, are not covered with
hard thorns like most of the cacti or prick
ly pear—the name by which it isgenerally
known, —thorns at least are quite soft,
rendering them accessible to collect the
cochineal.
There is one male for about 3000 fe
males, it is supposed ; great care is taken
to destroy those that are to be used as a
drug, at the time they are about to bring
forth their young. The insects are stripp
ed from the plants by laying down cloths
and drawing a dull blade of a knife be- |
tween the under surface of a branch of the j
nopal and the clusters of the insects on it.
They are then killed by steaming them in
the c'roth, or dipped in scalding water, and
then spread out to dry in the sun. To pre
serve the stock of cochineal insects, they
are secured on the plant from wind and
rain in the wet seasons, by covering them
up with matting; but the wild insects
need no such care, and they propagate
quicker, giving six crops in one year,
while the cultivated superior gives only
three. Where the wild and cultivated are
raised on one plantation, the two kinds are
kept separate, so that the one kind may
notamalgamate with the other. The delicate
superior cochineal has attained to its pres
ent perfection by long care, through many
generations, both by the Indiansau l Span
iards. It is generally allowed that the col
or of the cactus has nothing to do with the
i color of the insect, as it feeds not on the
red fruit, but upon the branches. There
has always been a very great demand for
cochineal, yet from 1790 to 1835, the in
crease of importations by Europe only a
mounted to 18,320 lbs. In 1791. 400,000
I pounds were imported, and in 1835, 418,-
320. The cochineal sold in London is of
ten adulterated with what is called the
East India cochineal, a worthless insect :
j but we are not trou led with such adulter
ations in the United States, although a
great deal of the very inferior stuff is sold.
The best cochineal is a full and plump in
sect of a crimson brow-n color, having a
whitish color in the wrinkles on its back,
which run across the same and intersected
with a central longitudinal furrow.
In Clavigero’s History of Mexico it is
stated that the ancient inhabitants of Mex
ico obtained a purple color from cochineal,
j This was doubted for a long time in Eu
rope, but with a mordaunt of alum and a
small portion of iron, it can produce a pur
ple ; this, however, is not the common way
to produce this color, cochineal is used to
dye the most brilliant of all colors, the
scarlet on silk and wool. It is used to im
part the ruby blush to the cheek of the
vain one, who dreams not, while she
flaunts her borrowed beauty, that she is in
debted for it to an humble insect. Red
can be dyed on silk and wool With ground
cochineal, by first impregnating the fabric
with a solution of alum. A more brilliant
color is produced by a mordaunt of the
chloride of tin and cream of tartar. The
beautiful pigment, carmine, is made from
cochineal, and a very chaste pink is dyed
upon cotton, by first impregnating the cot
ton with a solution of sugar of lead. Ow
ing to the high price of cochineal, another
drug named lac is much used as a substi
tute for it. It is imported from India and
is much cheaper, although far inferior in
point of brilliancy of color. Were it pos
sible, and we think it is, to raise cochineal
for one dollar per pound, we would not
depend upon India for her lac as a dye
drug. The cultivation of cochineal is
something which should arrest the atten
tion of our people, especially, since we
have recently extended our sway over
some territory, which, no doubt, can yield
it in perfection. As far back as 1703, the
sale of it, exported from the Spanish colo
nies to Europe, amounted to $3,000,000.
It may be said that every pound of it that
could be raised, would add $1,25 at least
to the wealth of our coutry. This sub
ject, then, is certainly worthy of much at
tention.— Scientific American.
Queen Victoria’s Piano. The splen
did piano of her Majesty- Queen Victoria is
completely veneered with ivory, in sheets
of from fourteen to seventeen feet in length,
and thirty inches and upwards in width,
! from a single elephant’s tooth j! by a spiral
process peculiar to M. Pape. It is also or
namented with rarest u oods, rendering it
j worthy of its place in the new palace of
j her Majesty.
ir bib aip Ha® tan a?.
GRADUATED JUSTICE.
We do not know exactly where the
following specimens of “ graduated jus
tice,?’ comes from, but wherever it belongs
it deserves to be remembered as a fine
model for magistrates.
On a warm summer’s day-, three men
were brought before a fair, round Dutch
magistrate, accused of drunkenness. Mis
honor, having premised with a hearty swig
of cool punch began with the first.
Justice. You rascal! pe you kilty or pe
you not kilty ?
Prisoner. Guilty.
Justice. Vat you get drunk on ?
Prisoner. Blackstrap.
Justice. Vat! get drunk on nothin’ but
blackstrap, you willain you ! Den dis be
mine everlastiu’ sentence, dat you be fine
forty shillings.
The second culprit being questioned in
the like manner, as to guilt or innocence
likewise owned himself guilty-.
Justice. Now, tell me you vile drunken
rascal, vat you get drunk on 1
Prisoner. Sling.
Justice. Vat! you got drunk on sling,
you graceless wagabond! y ou swillin’ sod,
you. Den I give my darnal sentence, dat
you he fine twenty shillings.
The third and last prisoner was now
brought forward; and, like the others,
pleaded guilty.
Justice. Vat you get drunk on l
Prisoner. Punch.
Justice. Ah, you dipplin’ rogue you! I
fines you just nothin’ at all; vor I gets
trunk on punch mineself sometimes.
CURIOSITIES WANTED 15V BAR
NUM.
The spade with which the Indians bu
; l ied the tomahawk after the last war.
| One of the cords used in letting down
| the curtain of night,
j Some blood from the vein of lead ore.
One of the buckets the sun draws water
with.
One of the lashes from the win Is eye.
A spark from the fires of ambition.
The hook on which hope hung.
One of the cords that bound two willing
| hearts together.
i >
Our Curiosity Shoe. —Our kind and
generous friends, says the Cleveland School
\ Boy, continue to send in rare curiosites,
j and our Cabinet now, is quite large and in
| teresting. Since our last issue, we have
| received the following:
A few pieces picked up after the morn
j ing broke.
| A shingle from the house that Jack
i built.
Splinters from the North Pole.
One of the legs of the Multiplication
: Table.
A preparation of ox (h) ide of iron, to
i enable a bullock to resist a whacking.
Indian Wit.—A story is told of tui In
dian, who complained to a landlord that
| his price of liquor was too high. The
landlord attempted to justify his charge by
j saying that it was as expensive to keep a
hogshead of rum as a milch cow. “ May
j be he drink as much water,” replied the
| sachem, alluding to adulteration, “but cer
! tain he no eat as much hay.”
j_ m |
Grammatics.— “Arrah, Teddy, and
wasn’t your name Teddy O'Byrne before
I you left ould Ireland ?” “Sure it was,
my darlint.” But, my jewel, why then do
j you add the s, and call it Teddy O’Byrnes
now I” “ Why, you spalpeen ! haven’t
j I been married since I kem to Ameriky!
! and ar’ you so ignorant of grammatics that
| you don’t know when one thing is added
to another it becomes a plural ?”
Taking it Coolly.—A western editor
after filling nearly two columns with the
most superlative invectives against a poor
cotemporary, winds up his remarks by
saying, “ Every word of the foregoing is
more than true , and we hold ourselves lia
■ hie for the consequences.”
The used up cotemporary coolly replies,
1 “ As for his being lie-able , we have noth
ing to say ; but his readers will all testify
i in ragard to his being able to lie.
KST’ Mr. Hopham, when he was speak
er, and the house had sat long and done in
effect nothing, coming one day to Queen
| Elizabeth, she said to him : —“ Now, Mr.
Speaker, what has passed in the Commons
House? He answered: —“If it please
your majesty, seven weeks.'' — Bacon.
We do not know where we have
] met the following, but a more beautiful
j thrilling, and pathetic piece of poetry we
never read :
On n log s.it a frog.
Crying f ,r his daughter ;
Tears ho shed till his eyes were r> and.
And then jump ‘d into the water —
And drowned himself.
- -
Nobody likes to meddle with a wo
man whose disposition contains the es
sence of lightning, vitriol, cream of tartar
and hartshorn; who manufactured words
j by the mile, and measures their meaning
I in a thimble.
GULDEN SANDS.
| SIFTED KOIt RICHARDS’ WEEKLY GAZETTE,
, “The golden Bands of thought.”—T. A. Gould,.
They speak of CalilorUiu’s shoro
With mines of glittring treasure fraught;
l The brain hath still a richer store,
The “olden sands of thought.
Theodore A. Gould.
The DeTracTer. Me whose first emo
tion on view of an excellent work, is to un
dervalue it, will never have one of his
o\vn to show. Aiken.
Experience. Every fresh generation,
like every fresh little boy, must be put to
school to its own experience. No history
of former Tommies will avail to keep the
new Tommy’s fingers out of the fire, a
piece of wisdom which a live coal will
ineffaceably inculcate in a second.
Woman's Sentiment. A woman is not
able, like a man, to protect her inner castles
of air and sentiment on the outer side ex
posed to the weathei.
j An Exhortation. Look not moum
; fully into the Past, it comes not back
again; wisely improve the Present, it is
thine; go forth to meet the shadowy Fu
ture, without fear and with a manly heart.-
Longfellow.
Flee from the goods which from thee flee ;
Seek nothing—Fortune secketh tliee :
Nor mount nor dive; all good things keep
The midway of the eternal deep. Emerson.
Society. 1 found society like the Jew-
I ish temple : any one is admitted into its
threshold, none but the chiefs of the insti
tution into its recesses. Bulwer.
A Figure. The husband must always
stand near the liquid silver of the female
spirit with a spoon, and continually skim
off the scum which covers it, that the sil
ver glance of the ideal may continue to
glitter.
Beautiful Metaphor. The compari
son of the journey of life to a transit across
a desert is very felicitously expressed in
: the following lines!
“ Hero in the body pant.
Absent from Heaven I roam ;
Yet nigh ty pitch my moving tent
A day's march nearer home !”
What is a Coquette ? A young lady
of more biauty than sense; more accomp-
I lishments than learning; more charms of
! person than graces of mind, more admirers
i than friends; more fools than wise men
i for attendants. Longfellow.
Marriage. Os all actions of a man’s
life, his marriage does least concern other
people ; yet of all actions of our life, it is
most meddled with by other people.
Selden.
Home. Home is a genuine Saxon word
—a word kindred to Saxon speech, but
with an import common to the race of
inan. Perhaps there is no other word in
j language that clusters within it so many
! and so stirring meanings.
Tiie Autumn of Age. The damps of
| Autumn sink into the leaves, and prepare
them for the necessity of the fall : anil
thus, insensibly, are we, as years close
around us, detached from our tenacity to
life by the gentle pressure of recorded.
IV. L. Latulon.
One thing is forever good ;
This one thing is—Success !
Emerson.
A Better Future. It is the heaviest
stone that melancholy can throw at a man
to tell him that he is at the end of his na
ture ; or that there is no other state to come
into which this seems progressional and
otherwise in view. Sir Thomas Brown.
Alusic. In music there is no controver
sy ; in music there are no opinions; its
j springs are deeper than the foundations of
any of those partition walls, and its breath
lloats undivided over all theii heads.
J. S. Dwight
THE ASSENT.
The spell is broken—she has laid
Her trembling lips against his cheek;
On hers there is a deeper shade
Os crims m, but she dues not speak ;
Iler voice is hushed—her voice is still'.
’Tis given, half without her will!
True Ambition. Not to long for emi
nent excellences, would betray a want of
feeling and goodness. Henry Ware.
Eastern Saying.—“lt is only the calm
j waters that reflect heaven in their breast.’
Thought and Action. Anciently men
thought, and were marble statues; now
they act, and are steam engines.
Praise. Trust him little who praises
j all, and him least who is indifferent about
all. Lavater.
A Waif. There is a beautiful little
Estray which no one seems to own. Treat
j it kindly.
The sun stole down the western sky,
With silent foot and burning glances;
And wood and waters playfully,
There, loving, leaped to his advances.
They met—and as the first warm gush
Os gladness, wakes the spring of feeling,
They gently kissed—oh, mark the blush
That o’er the water’s cheek is stealing.
Foolish Grief. We build statues of
snow, and weep when they melt.
Sir Walter Scott..
Time Works Wonders. About twelve
ior fifteen years ago, two persons, who
have since become very distinguished, pur
sued in the city of Cincinnati occupations,
one would have thought, not very likely
to form generals, statesmen, or soldiers,
but who have each occupied no small por
tion of the attention of the world. The
1 first of these, a working tinman and brass
founder, became the distinguished General
■ Arista of the Mexican army ; and the se
cond was the famous Garibaldi, then keep
er of a case. At the same time Alaroncellii
the companion of Sylvio Pellico, laugh l
music in New York, Louis Napoleon was
writing his treatise on artillery at Genera,
in Switzerland, and i\chilles Murat was
practising law and planting sugar in H° r ’
■ ida. There are certainly ebbs and floods
in every- man’s fortunes.— Washington Be
, public.