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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.