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“So il seems,” (-110111011 Alice, for just then a neat private carriage hail driven up. and Miriam's face looked eagerly from the window. A sweet, sa l face it was, though no one would have dreamed that those large gray eyes had looked upon more than thirty years of this world’s strife. Sadness had become as it were an habit ual expression, hut such a smile of delight, and such a blush of surprise, or eagerness, as lighted that tare when she caught sight of Ellen The sisteis saw but each other. How ever, Alice Cooper remarked the grave tall gentleman that handed Miriam out; and her romance-loving little head decided at oncejhat he could be none other than the veritable Claude. Moreover, as Ellen turned from Mil ram's fond embrace, she hlushed also, for Cousin Horace teas of the party, and was eagerly waiting his turn of recognition. If he was not permitted the cordial pressure which Miriam was entitled to, the glance of welcome, and the light touch of that little hand seemed to satisfy him fully. The three entered the house together, and Alice Cooper stole away, so that her presence might not interrupt explanations. Ali—n v ‘<* it-'-00-1.l Cj,l cnmnlim/ir ts must be confessed that she gained little credit for it, at home or at school. Before many hours her forbearance was rewarded by Ellen’s long and confidential communication. She had guessed rightly for once; the grave gentleman was Cousin Claude, who had come back from Europe unmarried, and Ellen wondered how her sister even thought him plain, he had such a pleasant smile, and the sweetest voice in the world. Miriam's repentance had at last found its reward. Her error, magnified as it had been by the rage of the one she had reject ed, was found to be nothing in comparison to their mutual happiness. Claude had re proached himself again and again for his rashness and hasty refusal to listen to any explanation, and declared that Miriam was tenfold more lovable now, in her softened and delicate beauty, then when they had been j-ligble.l in youth. A yearning for the love he had so easily surrendered, fol lowed him ever in his honourable but lone ly career, and this had at last urged him to seek once more “ the friend of his youth.” Mutual explanation, mutual forgiveness, was the result; and perhaps the love thus re-illumined was all the stronger and purer for its threatened annihilation. They were all so happy ! “ And you will have a brother at last, Ellen,” said Alice; “ how often 1 have heard you wish for one ; and a husband, perhaps, one of these days; who knows!” If we may trust the blush that came with this saucy remark to the cheek of the lis tener, Alice was again not far from right. As to the first proposition, Miriam and Claude were married, and that speedily, for oo many years of each other's society. Few among the many friends of Miriam Ilossiter dreamed to what a trial her youth had been subjected, though they saw daily its results in her calm and beautiful life ; and Claude, proud and very happy, often asked himself if his gentle wife could he the same with the light-hearted, high-spir ited girl he had first loved. But, reader, he never regretted the change. 4 SIIA -J* J L) ~*/ Augusta, Ga. Nov. 12. 1819. ’ If in. C. Richards, Esq. Dear Sir: Three efforts have been made to organise a “Teachers’ Association” for this County, which, I am pained to say, have proved total failures. I am, indeed, at a loss to discover why so much lethargy should he exhibited by our Solflhern Teachers, to wards a matter which so deeply concerns them, in their usefulness, their interests, their reputation and their respectability.— When it is known that the profession, in other parts of our country, especially at the North is fully alive to the spirit of im provement which distinguishes the middle of the nineteenth century, 1 think, tee, of the .South, should be stimulated to join in the race for excellence. In other States, they have their Normal Schools, their Ly ceums, their Institutes, their Scientific So cieties and their Periodicals, whilst in Georgia, the brightest star in the constella tion of Southern Stales, we have no thing of the kind. As long as we are con tented to remain in so apathetic a condi tion, we must continue to submit tamely to the obscure rank which we hold. If we do not cause our influence to be sensiblv felt in the community in which we labor, we must blame ourselves alone. If others can contemplate without feelings of deep humiliation, the fact that, whilst we raise so great a clamor against our Northern friend* concerning their prejudices towards our •* peculiar institution ,” yet we are fre quently inviting them to come among uslo instruct our children, thus compelling our men Teachers to seek other employments if others, I say, can witness this with out mortification. I cannot. See the tacit acknowledgement that we make by our want of action—that Southern are inferior to Northern teachers—that we have no tal ent at the South to be developed, fostered and encouraged—that energy, genius and learning are not adapted to a Southern cli mate. 1 take this liberty, without any vio- lent assumption of vanity, to write after each proposition — disseiitio. II c have the power, but need the volition, to place our selves beyond the reach of competition. — With the advantage of being natives of the State in which we live, and the additional one of being equal in skill, knowledgeand capacity, to others, we shall always be sure to find enough who will give us a preference in ilioir patronage. At the same time I do not blame any who refuse . to encourage themselves. I shall be most happy if you will under take to bring the subject prominently be fore our Teachers. I presume your Jour nal is more generally read by that class of our citizens, than any other in our State, and hence the reason why it should be made the organ of communication among them. I have not receifed from the plan of as sociation which I had the honor to sug gest through your paper of March or April of last year—l mean the Lyceum System. Not only every county, but every settle ment that boasts of its three or four teach ers. should have its Lyceum. Nor should such a Lyceum he exclusive—the people should have access to its sessions. Our policy should not he of that niggardly L„ * Vs irs Anlisv titan ourselves and keep others in darkness. Mq earnest desire has ever been to devise and carry on some scheme, whereby, not teachers only, but patrons and pupils, should be all benefited, for. my opinion has always been, that the teacher’s influence is enlarged, his office esteemed and respect ed, and his duties rendered agreeable, ex actly in proportion as a high tone of popu lar education exists. Never can there be paucity of subjects to command all the time of even the most frequent meetings of Lyceums. Not only so, but the interest enkindled in the pro fession of Teaching—the vast amount of knowledge acquired—the benefit that would be received in mind, morals, man ners, application and skill to teach, would, in my humble judgment, more than com pensate for all the time and labor spent in attending and sustaining Lyceums. L will pjivc vou u mongrn pltotoh of what Teachers would have to do in their Ly ceums, leaving you, if you have time, to make such suggestions as your observa tion and experience may dictate. 1. Every session would he opened by an Address, from a member, previously appointed to that duty, upon a subject ei ther selected by himself or assigned by the Lyceum. If the address be of a scientific character,it should be illustrated by appro priate apparatus. 2. Conversational discussions upon the various methods of teaching Writing, Spel ling, Grammar, Arithmetic, and so through all other branches of Education. 3. Written dissertations on School Dis cipline. Moral Culture of pupils. Duties of Parents to Teachers. Duties of Teach- Teachers to Pupils, and vice versa, &c. Ac. 4. A critical examination of the multi tude of Text Books in the several branches of education, so that the best way be se lected and used to the pecuniary ss well as intellectual interest of all parties, except bookmakers and publishers. I might proceed much farther, were I not fearful of encroaching too much upon your time and space in your paper. I think I have said enough in this introductory ar ticle, and will promise, with your permis sion, to continuemy articles, provided 1 find others awaking from their long slumbers, prepared to make an efiort, at least, to raise themselves to the high position they deserve to occupy. I am, with sincere respect, Your Obt. Serv't. L. Li Taste. IS YOUNG MEN. “ When we see the pale-faced, taper fingered, miiiciiig-speeched, consumptive looking young men who attend in our dry goods and fancy stores, we cannot help thinking it would be much better for them to turn their attention to more manly and health-giving pursuits, and by so doing af- ford employment to thousands of helpless women. A retail clerkship, is becoming j a reproach to men, because it is properly a woman's business in this city; compara- j tively, few young men are employed in stores. Proprietors, as much from inter- j est, perhaps, as humanity, give the prefer ence to women. The few young men who do go into retail stores are actuated by a ■ desire to learn the business, with the view, ‘ ult'mately, of becoming proprietors. In i nine cases out of ten, however, happier re sults would follow if our young men should 1 engage in the cultivation of the soil, or j learn a trade.” The above sound and judicious remarks are from the pen of the intelligent editor of the City Item. It would, indeed, be better, much better, for young men to turn their attention to more manly and healthy pur suits in the city or country, than to have a clerkship in cither wholesale or retail stores, to vend threads, tapes, ribbons, and the like, at a starving salary. Tbe anxie ty of most young men to he in a store, ot to be a clerk, is a species of mania, which : time, deprivation, and suflering, only can cure. Young men in the country are par ticularly desirous of coming to the city. Many an honest and worthy son of a thriv ing farmer or mechanic, has left his happy home- his father's flourishing fields or busy workshop, to seek a living in a large city as clerk. This is the most fatal mis take young men can commit. They too frequently overlook their comfort, and sel dom appreciate the true happiness the do mestic fireside affords, until they have tasted the bitter fruits of adversity and disnppoint ■ ment, or have felt the chilling winds of ■ I poverty and misfortune in large cities. We know many persons in this city, who are dragging out a miserable existence as clerks or salesmen in stores, at salaries barely sufficient to cover board and clothing, to say nothing of other incidental expenses to which the fashions and associations of the town give rise. How much better, then, 1 it would be for all such to have remained . at or near the paternal roof, to cultivate the soil, or engage in a mechanical business, which would at least yield a handsome living, with a fair prospect also of laying something by for the future. This is as suredly preferable to be a mere hireling or drummer in a store in a city, obliged to la bor and toil a great deal more than they would on the farm or in the factory—com pelled to do all the drudgery, begging and j boring for custom, with but little hope of ever rising above their menial position. — | We would say to our young friends in the country, “Let well enough alone.” Be j not deceived by the attractions and seem- i ing pleasures of the great city. These fleeting shows and temporary enjoyments are often bought at too high a price, and j sometimes cost reputation, health, and life. Remain in the honest, healthy, and virtu- j ous country. Put your hand to the plough j and the harrow, engage in the noble and j plovntp.d nnrsuit of farmins". or turn vour eye to the substantial work-bench. Better ] shove the plane than the yardstick. Bea carpenter, a blacksmith, a shoemaker, or anything in the useful arts to which you may be inclined. Learn to he a good agri culturist or mechanic —attend to your call ing—live virtuous and content—be a good citizen, and you will prove yourself the noblest work of God— an honest man. — N. Y. Farmer. The Prtnters of Parts.—A late letter from Paris says : There is one class of men whose social meetings, and eatings are distinguished for their good taste and humor. I mean the Printers. Every body is amused with their toasts, and good speeches and poetry. The typo in Paris is like his brother in Ameri ca. He can think, oftentimes write, and will fight when required. He is the most <1 ifficu 1 ♦ mm) to doooivo Ho cot*: lip miirh that he don’t believe; that is the affair of the copy—hut every year he sets up for himself at a public supper, and then you have his real views. Five hundred jour neymen Printers have just had their annu al banquet here. It is probable that not one in ten approves the political rubbish he is obliged to compose in his slick. I judge so by the toasts. The liberty of the Press was particularly insisted on. Pierre Leroux, author, deputy and was the principal invited guest and orator. ~fll A LJi> AA A ■ 1 11 C. -=T-= ■- z-'ZJ.'xr:. ~ EXPLOIT OF HANNAH DUSTAN. [From Thoreau’s “ Week on llie Concord and Merrimack Rivers.” On the thirty-first day of March, one hundred and forty years before this, pro bably about this time in the afternoon, there were paddling down this part of the river, between the pine woods which then fringed these banks, two white women and a hoy, who had left an island at the j mouth of the Contoocook before daybreak. They were slightly dad for the season, in the English fashion, and handled their J paddles unskilfully, but with nervous i I energy and determination, and at the hot- j 1 tom of their canoe lay the still bleeding , scalps of ten of the aborigines. They j were Hannah Dustan, and her nurse, Ma ry Neff, both of Haverhill, eighteen miles j from the mouth of this river, and an Eng > lish boy’ named Samuel Lcnnardson, es ! caping from captivity’ among the Indians. jOn the 15th of March previous, Hannah { Dustan had been compelled to rise from childbed, and half-dressed, with one foot j hare, accompanied by her nurse, com i mence an uncertain march, in still incle ment weather, through the snow and the ] wilderness. She had seen her seven elder children flee with their father, but knew j not their fate. She had seen her infant's ’ brains dashed out against an appletree, and had left her own and her neighbor's dwellings in ashes. When she reached ■ the wigwam of her captor, situated on an island in the Merrimack,’ more than twen ’ ty miles above where we now are, she had been told that she and her nurse were soon to be taken to a distant Indian settlement, ami there made to run the gauntlet naked. The family of this Indian consisted of two men, three women, seven children, beside an English boy, whom she found a priso ner among them. Having determined to attempt her escape, she instructed the boy to inquire of one of the men how he should despatch an enemy in the quickest man ner, and take his scalp. “Strike ‘em there,” said lie, placing his linger on his temple, and he also showed him how to take off the scalji. On the morning of the | 31 st, she arose before daybreak and awoke her nurse and the boy, and the hoy, and taking the Indian’s tomahawks, they killed them ail in their sleep, excepting one fa vorite boy, and one squaw who fled woun ded with him to the woods. The English boy struck the Indian who had given him the information on the temple, as he had b.'cn directed. They then collected all the provisions they could find, and took their master’s tomahawk and gun, and scuttling all the canoes but one, commenced their flight to Haverhill, distant about sixty! miles by the liver. But aftc having pro ceeded a short distance, fearing that her story would not be believed, if she should escape to tell it, they returned to the silent wigwam, and taking off the scalps of the 1 dead, put them into a bag as proofs of what they had done, and then retracing their steps to the shore iu the twilight, re-! commenced their voyage. Early this morning this deed was per formed, and now, perchance, these tired i women and this boy, their clothes stained with blood, and their minds racked with alternate resolution and fear, are making a hasty meal of parched corn and moose meat, while their canoe glides under these 1 pine roots whose stumps are still standing on the bank. They are thinking of the j dead whom they have left on the solitary isle far up the stream, and of the relentless | firing warriors who are in pursuit. Eve- j i ry withered leaf which the winter has left j seems to know their story, and in its rust- j | ling to repeat it and betray them. An In- | j dial lurks behind every rock and pine, and j ! their nerves cannot hear the tapping of a j woodoecker. Or they forget, their own J dange-sand their deeds in conjecturing the fate of their kindred, and whether, if they escape Indians, they shall find the former 1 still alive. T)-y do not slop lo cook men j meals upon the bank, nor land, except to ! carry their canoe about the fulls. The sto- I len birchfoigets its master and docs them good service, and the swollen current ! bears them safely along with little need of j the paddA, except to steer and keep them warm byjexercise. For ice is floating in j the river} the spring isopening; the musk - j rat and the beaver are driven out of their i holes by the flood ; deer gaze at them from Uhe bank; a few faint-singing forest-birds, | perchance, fly across the river to the j northernmost shore; the fish-hawk sails and screams overhead, and geese fly over | with startling clangor; but they do not ! observe these things, or they speedily for ■ get them. They do not smile or chat all I day. Sometimes they pass an Indian grave surrounded by its paling on the | hank, the frame of a wigwam, with a few ) coals left behind, or the withered stalks] I still rustling hi the Indian’s solitary corn ! field on the interval. The birch stripped of its bark, or the charred stump where a 1 tree lias been burned down to be made into Ia canoe, these arc the only traces of man, — a fabulous wild man to us. On either ] side, the primeval forest stretches away i uninterrupted to Canada, or to the “South Sea;” to the white man a drear and howl- . ing wilderness, but to the Indian a home, j adapted to his nature, and cheerful as the j [ smile of the Great Spirit. While we loiter here this autumn eve ning, looking for a spot retired enough, where we shall quietly rest to-night, they thus, in that chilly March evening, one hundred and forty-two years before, with wind and current favoring, have already wliiloj mit /\f ciqrlit not to <imn i; tun shall, and the swift stream bore them on ward to the settlements, it may be, even to ! old John Lovewell’s house on Salmon Brook to-night. According to the historian, they escaped ] as by a miracle, all roving bands of In- \ dians, and reached their homes in safety, | with their trophies, for which the General Court paid them fifty pounds. The family ] of Hannah Dustan all assembled alive j once more, except the infant whose brains j were dashed out against the apple-tree, and there have been many who in later times ! have lived to say that they had eaten of j the fruit of that appie-tree. A FETE AT ST. CLOUD. [From William Furniss’ “Old World,” just published by D. Appleton & Co.] “ It happened to he a fete, when we vis ited St. Cloud, and the grounds were filled ! with animated and happy people, waiting, [ and eager to see the display of the foun- ; tains which were to be let off at five o’clock. In the meantime, walk about among the temporary booths, erected on ! the green lawn, and by tbe foot-paths, and look in, and see the devices for gaining a j sous from a passer. Here, you may shoot i at a swinging little jackanapes, who turns furious somersets when you hit him ; there i again, you may be weighed ; and near by, look at those theatrical women in shorts, tumbling, in ground and lofty, whilst they announce to you: “voila! 1c chat, le | double chat, le grand souris. ’.’elephant;” and all this for two sous; then laugh with these simple people, and observe how easi ly they are pleased ; the great secret of their amusement, which demands little ef fort and less outlay. Gaiety is the domi nant instinct ot the mass, and the pursuit of pleasure engrosses all classes, peasant, sans-culotte, fop, and sovereign. Saun derson, in his “ American in Paris,” gives i their picture to the very life : truly, says | he, 4 who can describe a people who call ; their mothers, merec, and their horses, shovels V ” THE BOSPHORUS. “ The opening scene of the Bosphorus is grand. You enter these straits where the protruding shores of two opposite con tinents look down upon the dark and ab rupt mass of the rocks 41 Symplegades,” which lull the rough and stormy waves of the Euxinc into calm repose. That bold coast, bristling with Saracenic towers and mounded with heavy cannon, is soon suc ceeded by the overhanging heights ot Bel- , grade, which are crowned by the ruins of j an ancient acqueduct, and followed by J gentler undulating hills, which inclose the’ dark waters of that ch annel within the i charming bay of Buyukadere. ‘‘dour sail from this point, and even ; for twenty miles, embraces a succession of charming landscapes and views of unrivall- ] ed beauty : and as you pass through the narrowing straits at the outlet of the bay,/ , you glance hack on the lofty summits of the Asiatic shore, and over the terraced ! slopes of those sunny banks glowing in all the richness of oriental foliage, and basking in all the fervor of bright snn , shine and reflected sea. “ Wildly runs its current within the now approaching headlands of two opposite continents, as its waters chafe the base of the castle of Europe; while dark cypresses 1 and umbrella pines mournfully look down : I over the ruins of this dismantled fortress, | * and across the stream rise the bolder out lines of Asia’s stronghold, which guards ; the soft vales of the valley Goksu and i ! those beautiful sweet waters of the sunny ! South. You do not fail to observe the rich 1 contrast of these woody heights, as they j deck both margins with varied beauty.— On one side thick masses of northern forest 1 cluster around the villas which dotthe hill side, and hanging gardens fall front para- j pet and terrace, clothing these declivities jin all varieties of shade and verdure. On j the other shore, the softer skies of the i orient relieve luxuriant pastures of a love [ 1 ier green, and the gay foliage of tropical j | fruit and flower; whilst the air is redolent j with sweet fragrance of jessamine and i orange, wafted by Zephyrs through groves cif rhododendrons and acacias.— lbid. ('/j j j rj V. j, ± a jii'.y. r""'’ -’ m ; LOVE. Love is a sweet idolatry, enslaving all the soul. Topper. | Our destiny is to love and be loved. Un- ! til this destiny is fulfilled, the intensest longings of our souls remain unsatisfied, j We feel that our being is incomplete. We. I arc conscious of a great want. We have not within ourselves all the elements of a ! true life and of happines*. We only half ‘ enjoy, but doubly suffer! It is only by a ] union with another being, whose life-tone i is in accord with ours, that we can find our place in the universal scale of harmonies, j Without its own peculiar mate, to meet Its wandering half, when ripe, to crown the whole ; Bright plan of bli.-s, most heavenly, mo.-t com plete !” j But difference of rank, wealth, and edu , cation; conventionalities and arbitrary rules, or not less effectually, a mere thin wall of brick and mortar, has often separa ted those who thus belong to each other, and they cither pine away alone and un loved, or they seek to find, what cannot be found, rest for the weary soul, in some oth er bower than that of love. “ And as the dove to far Palmyra flying from where her nativo founts of Antioch beam, j W eery, exhausted, longing, p:mting, sighing, Lights sadly at the desert’s hitter stream; many a soul, o’er life’s drear desert faring, Love's pure, congenial spuing unsound, un- j cjuafled'd, Suffers, rec .ils, then thirsty and despairing Os what it would, descends and sips the near- ‘ cst ill aught.” Judge such kindly and charitably, for j great is the temptation—the necessity al-j most —of their souls, but beware that thy j heart is not thus offered in unholy sacrifice upon a false shrine. Oh ! for the time when j ; these things shall not be—when the heav- j 1 en-bestowed attractions of the soul shall I not be thus cruelly mocked, and no barri j era shall be interposed between loving hearts j and nothing 4>c\ll pro-rent thv.ii /!xy.;,. 0 to i getber. Love is the same in all ages and in all ! • lands. Wiiat it was tollclen of Troy, that jisit to thee and to me. Since Leanderper- [ | ished breasting bravely the angry waves j which separated him from his Hero's bow- i j er, it has bridged a hundred Ilellesponts, I 1 and defied a hundred storms. Love never debases, never defiles us. It j j ennobles, and purifies, and blesses. It un- j locks our souls to all the influences of beau- j jty and harmony. 0 love! | “ Thou art the radiance which, when ocean rolls Investcth it; and when the heavens are blue, Thou Silent them ; and when the earth is fair, The shadows of thy moving wings imbue ! Its deserts and its mountains, till they wear j Beauty, like some bright robe.” I). 11. Jacques. ON LOVE. 1 never knew a sprightly fair Th it was not and ar to me ; And freely I my heart could share With every one 1 see. It is not this or that alone (hi whom my choice would fall ; I do no more incline to one Than 1 inciiuc to all. The circle's bounding line are they, Its centre is my h art ; My ready love, the equal ray That tlows to every part. - - AMERICAN CHILDREN. Sir Charles Lyell, in his late work upon j this country, says that, during his travels j j here, he was forcibly struck with the ab- I jsonce of discipline among American, as compared with English children. We fear bis remark is liue. He then adds: The director of the State Penitentiary in | Georgia told me that he had been at some ‘pains to trace out the h story of the most desperate characters under his charge, and j found tiiat they had been invariably spoilt j children; and he added, if young Ameri cans were not called upon to ac‘. for them ; selves at so early an age, and undergo the rubs and discipline of the world, they would i be more vicious and immoral than the peo ple of any other nation. Yet there is no j country where children ought to be so great a blessing; or where they can be so easily provided for. Many young Americans have been sent to school in Switzerland : and I have heard their teachers, who found them less man ageable than English or Swiss boys, main- \ tain that they must all of them have some dash of wild Indian blood in their veins. Englishmen, on the other hand, sometimes attribute the same character to republican j : institutions; but in fact they are spoilt ’ long befote they are old enough to know , that they they are not born under an abso i lute monarchy. THE VATICAN AT ROME. The Vactican, which crowns one of the seven hills at Home, is an assemblage or group of buildings, covering a space of 1200 feet ,in lengfh, and 1000 feet in breadth. It is built upon the spot which j was occupied by the gardens of Nero. It, owes its origin to the Bishops of Rome, i 1 who erected an humble residence on its | site, in the early part of the sixth century. ’ Pope Eugenius 111, rebuilt it on a magnifi cent scale, about the year 1158. A few years afterwards, Innocent 11., gave it up ! as a lodging to Peter 11., King of Arragon. In 1305, Clement V., at the instigation of l,lv u,r,u v..v/wa iiv. rujmi j from Rome to Avignon, when the Vatican remained in a condition of obscurity and neglect for more than seventy years. But soon after the return of the pontifical court to Rome, an event which had been so earn estly prayed for by the poet Petrarch, which finally took place in 1376, the Vati can was put in a state of repair, again en larged, and it was thenceforward consider ed as the regular palace and residence of the Popes, who, one after the other, added fresh buildings to it, and gradually enrich ed it with antiquities, statues, pictures and books, until it became the richest reposi- I tory in the world. I Its library was commenced fourteen j hundred years ago. It contains 40,000 ■ manuscripts, among which are some by Pliny, St. Thomas, St. Charles, Borromeo, | and many Hebrew, Syriac, Arabian, and , Armenian Bibles. The whole of the im mense buildings composing the Vatican, j are filled with statues, found beneath the tuins of ancient Rome: with paintings, by ; the great masters, and with curious medals, and antiques of almost every description. When it is known that there has been ex humed more than 60,000 statues from the ruined temples and palaces of Rome, the reader can form some idea of the riches of the Vatican. A Gentleman. —Show me the man who can quit the brilliant society of the young to listen to the kindly voice of age—who can hold cheerful converse with one whom years have deprived of its charms—show me the man who is as willing to help the deformed who stand in need of help, as if iho llus.li rtf l mantloA An Vwar >liool: show me the man who would no more j look rudely at the poor girl in the village, than at the elegant and well-dressed lady jin the saloon—-show me the man who treats unprotected maiden-hood as he would i the heiress, surrounded by the powerful ‘protection of rank, riches and family—j show me the man who would abhor the j libertine’s gibe, who slums as a blasphe mer the traducer of his mother’s sex—who j scorns as he would a coward the rid iculer I of woman’s foibles, or the exposer of wo manly reputation—show me that man who j never forgets for an instant the delicacy, j the respect that is due to woman as wo- i man, in any condition or class—show me ! such a man and you shall show me a gen- i tleman —nay, you show me better, you ! shall show me a true Christian. |YTI£I.!9. | t M| | Similitudes from the Vegetable World. —The fragrant white clover thrives j though trampled under foot; it furnishes ‘ the bees with stores of pure honey with out asking or receiving the credit of it.— [ Meekness and disinterestedness. The vine clings to the elm, acknowl edges its weakness, and, at the same time, | makes itself strong. —Faith. The morning-glory makes a fair show at sunrise, but withers as soon as it becomes hot.—Excitement without principle. To cut off the top of the dock does no good, its root must be eradicated.—Sin is a dock-ioot. The thistle has a beautiful blossom; but it is so armed with spears lhat every body abhors it.—Beauty and Bad Temper. The elder-hush produces delicate and fragrant blossoms ; but the farmer abhors it because if he gives it a foot it will take a rod. —Oblrusiveness. If the grasshopper eat the silk of the corn there will he no harvest.--Irreligious priciples in childhood. Cranberries hide themselves beneath the moss; he who will find them must search for them.—Modest Worth. The blossoms of the barberry blast the grain in their vicinity.— Bad Examples. Thistle seed have wings.—Bad Princi sles. A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. Oneof the most ingenious ruse <le guerres on record, is related, in Frost’s History of the United Stales. During the war be tween Spain and England in the year 1842, an expedition from Havana with an army of three thousand Spaniards, sailed up the Altamaha for the purpose of attacking the infant settlements in Georgia. Gen. Ogle thorpe then Governor of the colony, an active and energetic sollier, as well as a talented statesman, had a force of only j about seven hundred men, exclusive of In- ; dians, to oppose this formidable army. 1 Nothing daunted, however, with a part of his troops he approached within two miles . of the enemy’s camp with the design of attacking them by surprise when a French soldier of his party fired a musket and ran , into the Spanish lines. His situation, ow I to this unforeseen treachery, Was ‘"’l critical. Returning, however, to Fro,]' ’ I ca, which was fortified, he had recourse t I the following expedient : I lie wrote a letter to the deserter, d esi[ I ing him to acquaint the Spaniards witht!,'l defenceless state of Frederica, and to u r ll . them to the attack. If he could not c I this object, he desired him to use all 1, ■ ’ art to persuade them to stay three day< I Fort Simon’s, as, within lhat time, hjl j should have a reinforcement of two th o I sand land troops, besides six ships of War I j cautioning him at the same time, not / j drop a hint of Admiral Vernon’s meditated attack upon the Spaniards at St. Augus. | tine ! A Spanish prisoner was entrusted with this letter, under promise of deliver, ing it to the deserter; but he gave it, a< t was expected and intended, to the com. mander-in-chief, who immediately pm the ; deserter in irons. In the perplexity occasioned by this let. ter, while the enemy was deliberating what | measures to adopt, three ships of force which the Governor of South Carolina had sent to Oglethorpe’s aid, appeared on the coast. ‘I he Spanish commander was now | convinced, beyond all question, that the letter, instead of boinir a stralasrem. cm. ’ lamed serious instructions to a spy; a!ll j ; in this moment of consternation, set fire to the fort, and embarked so precipitately, as ! to leave behind him a number of cannon and a quantity of military stores. AN AUSTRIAN PALACE. Prince Diechenstcin’s residence at Vien na, is a specimen of the immense cost of j some of the Austrian palaces. A corres- pondent of the Newark Advertiser, gives the following account of it: 1 For a couple of hours I wandered through apartments filled with the most costly and luxurious furniture, reminding oneof the fairy palaces described in the Arabian Nights. Mirrors covering a whole side of a room, chandeliers of rock crys tal and gold, floors of polished wood laid in curious mosaic, statuary of Carrara marble, bronze of rare workmanship, the walls covered with rich silk and gold bro cade, ceiling of immense height, painted in fresco and arabesque, staircases, halls and | columns of polished marble and gypsum, mosaic tables, &c. In a word, the intciior decoration of this superior palace cost 8.- 000,000 florins, or 4,000,000 dollars—it far exceeds any two of the hundreds I have seen, and is superior to that of the Emper or in splendor. Its princely inhabitant has an income of upwards of SI ,000,000 year ly, and is the owner of ninety-nine estates and palaces. No subject of Austria can possess more than that number.’ The Df.vil Sticker of South America. —ln many of the lints or habitations i:i Indian villages passing up the great rivers, is to be found the devil-sticker. It is of a spongy nature, and smooth skin, not un like the large slug of England. It is brought into the hut with the firewood, or it may creep in unperceived. It however creeps up the side wall, and getting on the edge of the rafter to which it adheres, it looks like a small ball, or more properly like the slug coiled up. It is frequently known to drop from its bold without being molested, and whenever it falls it throws out from its body five or six fangs, which are barded like a fish-hook, and on to whatever softer material than brick or stone it chances to fall, these fangs enter: nor can be removed unless by cutting the animal off, and picking the prongs out of the substance into which they are so firm ly fastened. When they fall on the per son who happens to sit or stand under- j —jf..i RUSSIAN VENGEANCE. Behind the chapel was a rack, and on both sides of the rack were several rows of gallows some miles in length, and instru ments of torture ready for the unfortunate victims. The punishments were in accor dance with the degree of culpability ami station in society of the rebels. In die first row of gallows the most guilty were executed ; after being subject to the rack they were quartered alive. The leaders had their hands and legs cut off, and after wards impaled on long spikes, and left to their horrible fate. Their groans were heard for miles, and their bodies leasted the eyes of the panic-stricken population. In the second row of gallows, they were only quartered, and their sufferings were, at least, shorter. In the third row the par ties were simply beheaded. In the fourth row r they were merely hanged. In the fifth they ran the gauntlet and the knout. All the ecclesiastics were burned. There were separate gallows for women, married and maiden. Even children of thirteen years were subjected to great cruelly Married couples were occasionally hanged on the same gallows, as well as old fami lies. During the space of three months, 13,000 human beings were executed in the presence of Dolgourouki, Stenko Rom’s nephew and particular friend was quarter ed. Among the female prisoners, was a handsome nun, who over her female gar ments had a male attire, She commanded a corps of 7,000 men, gave more than on® proofs of extraordinary courage and great ability in .the field, and inllictcd terribm losses on the Russians. When summoned before Dolgourouki, she displayed a fit® ness and presence of mind difficult to des cribe, and said, if every one under her coin man 1 had done his duty in such a manner as she had done, Dolgcurouki, instead o erecting gallows, would have taken to his heels. She lay down quietly on a funeral pile, and was burnt to ashes. ‘J he dang’ ling dead bodies of so many thousan veterans brought many crows snd ravens, which devoured the corpses. From time that suburb is called the suburb ot hell.— The Cossacks nf the Ukraine.