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ticed his attention to Natalia, and the emo
tion her unconcealed aversion produced in
him. She soon gave implicit credence to
Natalia's narrative, with such proofs before
her daily ; and when some harsh word
from him drove her to her room to weep,
she doubled at last that he had ever loved
her, and then she dreamed wild dreams of
gaining his love. Gradually, this one
idea took sole possession of her mind, ar.d
often, in her reveries, she would revolve
the stories she had heard from her nurse in
girlhood, of love potions and filters, bind
ing one's affections so that death alone
could sever them from the object.
“Avina,"’ she said one day, suddenly
addressing her attendant hair-dresser, who
had been her companion front infancy—
“ Avina. knowest thou of a wise woman —
one who traffics in love potions and fil
ters ?”
Wild blushes rose to her cheeks as she
made the query. The woman, garrulous
and romantic as her classgenerally is, has
tened to inform her sovereign of the wide
spread fame of a sorceress, who perform
ed wondrous cures upon the infirm and
diseased. Glad of the permission to vend
her tales to anew auditor, she recounted
many curious tales of the sorceress’ per
formances. The Queen, divested of her
proud dignity—no longer the haughty and
passionless woman—gave them implicit
credence, and hastily enveloping herself
in a mantle, and accompanied by her at
tendant, left the palace, fearful of detec
tion if she called a more fitting retinue.
An hour's walk through the old forest
led them to a rocky ravine, in the midst of
which was the dwelling of the sorceress—
meet habitation for such an inmate. A
knock on tile rude door brought forth the
witch, who, with a slight motion of the
hand, bade them enter. The attire of the
witch was a sable robe, reaching from the
neck to the ground, and by contrast, ren
dering the awful palor of her countenance
still more conspicuous. Her eyes, deeply
sunk in their sockets, gleamed keen and
malignant, and the heavy masses of dark
hair, “rapidly becoming silver with age or
grief, streamed loosely from the head, un
confined. The hut was built of mde logs,
and the walls were hung profusely with
bunches of dried herbs and seed. A fire
burned in the huge chimney, and by its
side, on a costly cushion, habited in rich
robes, sat a boy—an idiot, whose strange,
unmeaning eves, glanced uneasily at the
strangers for an instant, and then settled
back immovably on the glowing embers of
the fire. He was the only child of the
crone, and strange in that death-like wo
man, surrounded by the rude appurte
nances of her profession, was the tender
love and gentle affection with which she
regarded him.
The Queen narrated her errand in a low
voice—
“ Canst thou do this ?” she enquired.—
‘•Give me back his love, and gold shall be
thine—gold to purchase comforts and lux
uries for thy boy,” continued she, skilful
ly touching the master chord in the hag’s
withered heart.
The discordant laugh of the sorceress,
when she first mentioned her request, fright
ened her:
“Aye,” she muttered, “in my young
days, 1 dealt in such things. I was but
young when the curse came, and the ser
pent stole into the bosom of my family;
and then —the rest was lost! Give me the
name,” she continued, rousing herself—
“give me the name of thy false lover,” and
again she smiled grimly, “and 1 will filter
the potion. But for thee,” she murmured
inwardly, glancing at the unmoved coun
tenance of her idiot boy. as her features
relapsed to their accustomed harsh repose,
“ but for thee.”
“Canst thou not give me the filter with
out this?” said the Queen, hesitating. “ I
will double the reward.”
“ Nay,” croaked the hag harshly, “have
I not said ?”
The Queen, with pallid cheeks, whis
pered—“ Arbantel;” and at that name, the
hag staggered backward—a malignant
gleam flashed from her keen eyes, and her
thin lips moved slightly over the grinded
teeth, muttering strange words inaudibly.
She culled from the many dried herbs lin
ing the walls, and simmered them in a ves
sel over the fire. The Queen watched the
hag with intense interest, frightened, awed,
by her fierce demeanor and want of re
spect, but ever repeating to herself, “It
will gain his love,” to re-assure her trem
bling heart. The hag drew from an inner
recess a small horn, and emptied its con
tents into the compound of herbs. She
bent over it, and muttered a charm, while
her idiot hoy caught at the curling fumes
with his attenuated fingers, and smiled
vaguely at the futility of his attempts.—
The countenance of the sorceress became
distorted, and even more colorless than its
wont, during the incantation, and the shud
dering Queen almost repented her rash
step, when she noted the demon-like con
tortion of her features.
At last it was finished. Calm and stern
was the countenance of the hag, as she
presented the colorless decoction, and bade
her mingle it in his drink.
“Art thou sure,” said the sovereign ner
vously, “that this will have effect?”
“Aye,” muttered the hag. “He will
love no other till his death. Will that
content thee, my queen?” answered she,
grinning ghastily.
The Queen hastily rejoined the attend
ant, who waited without, and proceeded
rapidly homewards, intoxicated with the
wild, hopeful reveries which her tightly
grasped treasure was destined to realize.
“ Aye,” muttered the sorceress in her
door, watching their progress among the
rocky masses, “aye, thou wilt be loved to
the death, foolish one! May the fiery
poison shrink his veins, and curdle his das
tardly blood.” continued she vehemently ;
“the murderer of my daughter and her
grey-haired sire—the destroyer of my boy’s
reason. May it writhe in his heart like a
living serpent, and remorse add her tor
tures.”
The sotceress gnashed her teeth with
demoniac passion. Once more she entered
the hut, and her harsh voice was tenderly
musical as she emptied the queen’s well
filled purse before her idiot boy, and whis
pered sweet epithets. As the Queen and
her attendant trod rapidly homeward, they
noted not a man’s face peering out upon
them from amidst a clump of bushes. Af
ter they had passed, he emerged from the
wood.
Slowly and musingly Arbantel took his
way to the witch's dwelling, following
their path, in order to satisfy his curiosity
as to their errand. The injurer and the
injured stood face to face ! Arbantel scan
ned her features keenly for a moment, but
memory traced no resemblance between
the hag’s withered face, and the beautiful
features of his former wealthy dependant.
The witch, however, with the keen remem
brance of the wronged, and the revenge
ful, surpassing even that of love’s most
earnest devotion, knew him immediately.
She uttered no reproaches, however—sat
isfied that her unaided strength could not
injure him, and she looked forward yet to
a day of triumph. She gave a feigned
errand for the Queen's presence, and Ar
bantel left the hut. He soon gained the
palace, and secretly questioning the at
tendant who accompanied the Queen, soon
learned the secret from her. Arbantel dis
missed her with many injunctions to se
crecy, and passed on to the evening meal.
He drank not the Queen’s goblet that eve
ning.
(Concluded next week.)
mas sses&TfimTr*
For Richards 1 Weekly Gazette*
E (i E R I A :
Or. Voices from the Woods and Wayside.
XXXVIII.
Sun and Shadow. It is only where
there is light that there is shadow. Were
there no cloud, there were no sun, and we
should never see a rainbow. Our cares
are the mothers, not only of our charities
and virtues, but of our best joys and most
cheering and enduring pleasures.
XXXIX.
Heresy. In the proper exercise of the
affections, we are sure to lose all our here
sies. Our opinions can have no sort of
effect in defeating our virtues. How my
neighbor thinks, is scarcely of so much im
portance to me as how he feels. That he
is a heretic, may be a very bad thing; but
that is not properly a concern of mine, so
long as his feith never affects his conduct.
I see no heresy in the bunch of flowers
that he so frequently sends for my toilet:
and the green peas from his garden are
among the first of the season.
Angel Spots. Believing, as I do, that
the angels are still frequent visitors among
us, I find, every now and then, in the fresh
and beautiful appearance of certain spots
of field and forest, a sufficient reason for
supposing there to be the favorite places
upon which they prefer to alight. If the
violets which spring up thick in my path,
suddenly, at the close of winter, do not
denote the footstep of an angel, they cer
tainly declare for the breath of one, and
answer for his mighty presence.
XLI.
Friendly Counsel. Many persons fancy
themselves friendly, when they are only
officious. They counsel, not so much
that you should become wise, as that they
should be recognized as teachers of wis
dom.
XLII.
Tact in Friendship. Tact is quite as
necessary among friends, or those who
would be so, as among politicians. Want
ing this, our friend, while he proposed to
show us the proper steps for progress,
would be only treading upon our corns.
XLI 11.
Friends to he Stuilied. To serve a friend
judiciously, you must study him. To
teach him, it is essential not only to know
his condition, but his character. Unless
you understand him, he will scarcely ever
be made to understand you ; and without
this understanding, your lessons, educed
wholly from your own nature, will in no
degree appeal to his. To enter into your
friend's necessity, and to reach the point
from which he looks or thinks, must be
the first step towards informing him with
your thoughts, and moving his mind to a
just appreciation of what is wise in yours.
XLIV.
Security of Innocence. If we take the
word “ safety” in an extended sense, and
comprise within the province which we
seek to guard, the moral, as well as the
physical existence, therein nothing in the
world so perfectly secure as innocence.
Apollodorus lamented to Socrates that he
should be doomed to suffer death, having
been guilty of no offence. The philoso
pher, looking beyond human limits, inqui
red—“ Would you have me die guilty ?
Melitus and Anytus may kill, but they
i cannot hurt me!” Yet how common it is,
to hear people lamenting, with Apollodo
rus!—as if pain and death, which are in
i@@at!l§® Wlll ill ©!BiifS a
evitable conditions of life, should be the
only, or the worst evils of humanity !
XLV.
Patience. Patience, after all, is the high
est courage, since it affords us time to ma
ture all of our energies. We shall hardly
ever lose our redress, if we keep the wrong
doer in our debt, till we can fairly bring
him before the judgment-seat of Heaven.
XLVI.
Humility of Love. He who loves fer
vently, as naturally elevates the object of
his admiration at his own expense. In
due proportion as he finds perfection in the
creature of his passion, will he question
his own success, in the doubt of his own
worthiness. But to love fervently, one
must have set the highest estimate upon
the value of his own affections : and the
extent of his humility is in due degree
with the extravagance of his desires.
j> © sa ® a a & e & ♦
A TEXT WORTHY OF COM
MENT.
“Geokue Ruby a boy aged 14, was put
into the box to be sworn, and the Testa
ment was put into his hand. He looked
quite astonished upon taking hold of the
book.
“ Aid. Humphrey. Well, do you know
what you are about I Do you know what
an oath is ?
“ Boy. No.
“ Aid. H. Do you know what a Testa
ment is?
“ tiny. No.
“ Aid. 11. Can you read 1
“ Boy. No.
“ Aid. H. Do you ever say your prayers?
“ Boy. No, never.
“Aid. 11. Do you know what prayers
are ?
“ Boy. No.
“Aid. 11. Do you know what God is?
“ Boy. No.
“ Aid 11. Do you know what the Devil
is ?
“Boy. I’ve heard of the Devil, but I
don’t know him.
“ Aid H. What do you know, my poor
boy ?
“ Boy. I knows how to sweep the cross
ing.
“ Aid. H. And that's ail"?
“Boy. That’s all. I sweeps the cross
ing.
“The Alderman said, he, of course,
could not take the evidence of a creature
who knew nothing whatever of the obliga
tion to tell the truth.'’— Vide Times’ Police
Report of Wednesdey, Jan. 9.
So, says the law, which the Alderman
has to administer. But are not these a con
versation and a result worth noting, good
people of this wonderful time of Railways,
Ragged Schools, Model Lodging-houses,
Soup-kitchens, Model Prisons, and other ex
cellent crutches for helping along this so
ciety of ours, which still stumbles some
how, most sadly", in spite of them ?
Here is the raw material of a citizen—a
boy well halfway to manhood, who knows
neither oath, nor book, nor prayer, nor
God ; has but heard of the Devil even—and
whose sum and substance of knowledge is
“how to sweep the crossing—that’s all.”
A crossing-sweeping machine this, with a
superfluous soul in it apparently,—that no
man, or set of men, has thought it worth
while to waken —a tongue that the law
ties—a sort of brute biped in the eyes of
all —who, introduced to a worthy Aider
man and a police court, suddenly hears of
the oddest things, oaths, and books, and
prayer, and God, and Devil—ideas which
had not developed themselves in crossing
sweeping.
But though Society leave this lump of
Man to his besom and bis blank ignorance
of right and w T rong, and the powers there
of, —and though Law, when he rises to say
what he has seen—for he can speak—says
to him, “No! Be dumb, brute, how
should’st thou lift up thy voice among
men ?”—this same Society and Law would
use a very different tone, if once our brute
biped shouid begin to develop himselt brute
fashion—if he should strike or bite—or
kick, or take to satisfy his hunger— to
prey, in short, wild-beast-like on the world
in which he is as a wild beast. Then So
ciety would be alert with its policemen, and
committing magistrates and cells—and Law
with its judges and juries, and learned bar
risters, all arrayed to deal justice upon this
poor neglected brute, as if he were a man.
A strange sight and one worthy of being
weighed in these times above all others.—
Our blunt ancestors went roundly to work.
If they saw without concern brute men
gathering and growing about them, they
flogged, and imprisoned, and ironed and
racked, and hung, with right royal brutal
ity of punishment. But now we have
changed the latter half of their system,
while we leave the former unaltered.—
While the animal sleeps, we let him sleep.
But once let him wake to show the animal
in act, and we make a man of him. His
cage must be comfortable,—with “aregard
shown to his feelings"—his diet must be
varied and succulent—he must have sweet
air enough—and cleanliness—and all, in
fact, that was denied him till the brute pro
pensities awoke to active life!
If any painter of our new Houses ol Par
liament want an allegory lor our Great
Britain, we give him this—
Let him paint a great tree with a worm
at the root; with healthy boughs and with
ered : with fine fruit and sickly; hereblos
som, and there blight; and Benevolence,
and Piety, and Statesmanship, carefully nip
ping a scabby fruit off this bough, and as
carefully nursing a dwarfed flower on that:
and the crowd round about clapping their
hands and applauding the mighty work of
improvement; and all the while, anew
scabby fruit, and anew defective flower,
appearing for each that is nipped off, or
nursed into sickly comeliness; and a few
poor timid spectators hinting that, “All
this work about fruit and blossom, is vain,
while something must be wrong with the
foots:” and nobody listening to them—and
the worm working and working towards
the heart of the tree, and “very general sat
isfaction with our prospects.”
HALVING THE CENTURY.
J list now our table is cracking and groan
ing under a heap of letters on both sides of
the controversy about the completion of
the first half of the century. One corres
pondent illustrates his view by proposing
that we should drink the half of a hundred
barrels of stout in as many years, and in
forms us that half the hundred barrels will
have been drunk so soon, but only so soon,
as the last pot of the fiftieth barrel shall
have been swallowed. Our only objection
to this mode of determining the question is,
that he has not sent us the means of trying
his experiment. We may apply similar ob
servations to the propositions of those who
ask us to smoke so many bundles of ci
gars, eat so much cheese, and wear out so
many suits of clothes in half a century.—
The quantities of these articles are repre
sented as given quantities, but all we can
say is, that we have not received any of
them. As to the matter in dispute, we need
only remark, that if the year 1800 was the
first year of the century, 1801 was the sec
ond year, 1849 the fiftieth, and the present
year of grace, 1850, is the fifty-first. If
not, then otherwise. To us, the question
would seem perfectly clear, but for the fol
lowing communication, which, being brief,
we publish in extenso: —-
“ Mr. Punch. —“ My cousin Bridget, to
my knowledge, was born on January 1,
1800. If we are now beginning the sec
ond half of the century, she must just have
entered her fifty-first year. Yet a lady’s
word is undeniable ; and all who have been
acquainted with Biddy for the last 20 years
can testify that, during all that time, she
has declared herself to be only thirty.
“Your constant reader,
‘•Tempus Fugit.”
LABOR.
It is a somewhat curious circumstance,
and one which cannot be accounted for by
any satisfactory principles of reasoning,
that industry and labor,—especially the la
bor of the body, should have fallen so much
as it has into disrepute among men. We
would not, it would seem, be very apt to
think lightly of, or to entertain feelings of
aversion towards, that which is able to
confer upon usallthe blessings which make
life happy and desirable, but with respect
to labor--which is the very thing that does
all this—we are too much inclined to look
upon it as a curse, and we rave against our
stars because we were not born to lives of
ease and idleness, as some were, whom we
see around us. Now we are willing to ad
mit, that, at first view, a life or unremit
ting toil—of continual contact with a hard
and selfish world, is considerable of a strug
gle, one at the thought and prospect of
which the mind very naturally recoils. But
this is not the sole or principal light in
which the subject should be viewed ; for,
though there is incident to a life of toil
much that is calculated to try both the flesh
and the spirit, it is the means to the attain
ment of more true and solid happiness than
indolence can ever confer upon its votaries.
It was never intended by the Creator—so
we have the best of reasons for beleiving
—that mankind should live lives of phys
ical inertness, for this would be contrary to
the capacities and requirements of both the
corporeal and mental nature of man. Adam
himself was not placed in the garden of
Eden merely to admire its beauties and feast
upon the dainty fruits which were to grow
simply at God’s command but he was
placed there for employment, as well as
pleasure and worship, for “the Lord God
took the man, and put him into the garden
of Eden, to dress it and to keep it.” Many
are disposed to believe, that, because the
ground was cursed in consequence of Ad
am's disobedience, and he and his posterity
were doomed to eat their bread in toil and
sorrow, therefore labor is a punishment in
flicted and not a blessing conferred. But
this idea is a short-sighted one, and displays
a weak apprehension of the true method of
heaven’s dealings in the affairs of earth.—
Before ever the fall of man from his first
estate of holiness, we plainly see that in
dustry was to be his portion. By skilful
toil—the application of physical strength
and mental ingenuity—he was to maintain
the thrift, neatness and beauty of the gar
den which God himself had planted and
pronounced good : in the language of inspi
ration, he was “to dress and keep it.” In
dustry, therefore, is jiot dishonorable, and
the man is not blessed who can keep his
blood in circulation without it. To satisfy
the mind, with respect to this, one has on
ly to look abroad upon the community, and
see which class of persons is happier, the
idle or the industrious. Those persons
may appear to be earth’s most fortunate
ones, who have wealth that they never
toiled for. and by which they are enabled
to live without a single moment of manual
exertion from one year’s end to the other,
but such is not the fact. Many a common
daily laborer, whose wants are supplied by
the toil of his hands from day-break till
sunset, enjoys life far better than the pos
sessor of millions, surrounded by servants
in waiting, ready to pick up his spectacles
or his handkerchief, or fan the flies from
his pustulent nose. Could the common eye
penetrate into into the secrets of the rich,
possibly it would turn its vision homeward
again, with more contentment than ever be
fore. Contentment and happiness are more
easily attained by constant industry, than
by money and idleness.
The Hammer. —This tool is the univer
sal emblem of mechanics—the saviour and
bulwark of Christendom. The hammer is
the wealth of nations. By it are forged the
ponderous engine and the tiny needle. It
is an instrument of the savage and the civ
ilized. Its merry clinks point out the abode
of industry. It is a domestic deity, presi
ding over the grandeur of themost wealthy
and ambitious, as well as the most humble
and impoverished. Not a stick is shaped,
not a house is raised, a ship floats, a car
riage rolls, a wheel spins, an engine moves,
a press squeaks, a viol sings, a spade delves,
or a flag waves, without the hammer. With
out the hammer, civilization would be un
known, and the human species only as de
fenceless brutes; but in skillful hands, di
rected by wisdom, it is an instrument of
power, of greatness, and true glory.—-Sci
entific Mechanic.
The Duty of Labor. —No man can rise
from the workman’s rank. Fall he may,
and often does from that estate, but to rise
above the order the great God has estab
lished to govern His world, is impossible.
Every man should be a workman, and fill
up a workman’s rank. He must fill thator
a loafer's. He who made the world never
made a spot on it for an idler. He never
made a man who was to live by his brain
alone, or such an one would have been all
brains. Body and soul, powers physical
and mental, are to be used, else they never
would have been given ; and whoever finds
himself in possession of a pair of hands, a
set of bones and muscles, may rest assured
that he has a command to use them.
Female Miners. —A young man from
Maine, now residing in California, says,
his party found, near the Sacramento, and
almost thirty miles from any other digging,
two intelligent and beautiful young ladies,
with no attendant except an old grey-head
ed negro, whom they had enticed to accom
pany them, and who is the servant of the
lather of one of them. The eldestofthe.se
girls was not twenty. It seems their imag
inations had become excited by the gold sto
ries which they had heard, and they had
determined to try their hands at making a
fortune. The old negro was past work,
and was left m the camp during the day to
look after the household affairs, and keep
watch, while the girlspursued their mining
operations. When the party reached their
camp, the old darkey was alone in it, but
the girls came in during the day, and re
ceived their visitors hospitably. They ex
pressed no fear of being molested or ro died,
and said that they should leave for home
when they had accumulated SIO,OOO-they
had already gathered $7,000. They were
from Florida, and the youngest ran away
from school to enter upon the expedition.
EM3®BILiLi&2n7.
[From the New York Express.]
AN ENGLISH VIEW OF THE
CUBA QUESTION.
We notice in a late number of Black
wood's Magazine, an article on the present
condition of Spain and her Colonies, which
is worth republishing. The writer remarks
that by one of those absurdities, which are
of frequent occurrence in Spanish Govern
ments, American settlers in Cuba are ex
empt from a variety of personal contribu
tions and other imposts, which the natives
have to pay. The laws of the island for
bid-the establishment of foreigners in Cu
ba ; and, though the settlement of Ameri
cans has been connived at, out of respect
to the laws, the settlers were supposed by
a curious fiction, not to exist. Hence the
exemption.
This immunity drew many settlers to
Cuba from the Southern States of America;
so that some districts on the northern shores
of the island, have more the character of
American than Spanish settlements. The
prosperity of the island has derived no
small advantage from those numerous Amer
ican establishments. Improved modes of
agriculture, mechanism and conveyance
were introduced by the Americans. Sev
eral railways have been made. In the
course of ten years no less than ten have
been carried into effect; the first from Ha
vana to Guines, was completed in 1837;
this great undertaking was solely indebted
to American energy and enterprise. The
loan for it was made in England; but the
projectors, the Stock jobbers, the engineers,
and the overseers were Americans. Cuba
is slowly but steadily becoming American
ized. •’ ‘ Liberavi animam mearn,’ might
be fairly said by me,” (says Mr. Madden,
an Englishman, who resided there many
years,) if the Star Spangled Banner were
floating to-morrow on Moro Castle, or
flaunting in the breeze at St. Jago de Cuba.
“In the course of seven years a feeling,
strongly prevalent in the Colony, in favor
of independence, has been changed into a
desire for connexion with the United States.
It is needless for recent political writers on
Cuba to deny the existence of a strong feel
ing of animosity, to the mother country,
and a longing desire for separation. If
Flngland could have been induced, in 1837,
to guarantee the Island of Cuba from the
intervention of any foreign power,the white
inhabitants were prepared to throw Off the
Spanish Yoke.
There was then a Spanish aimy of 20,000
men in the island, but the actual number of
native Spaniards in itdid notexceed 16,000.
The leading men of the Creoles had then
little apprehensions of the result of an ef
fort for independence. An allotment of
land in the island, for the soldiers who
might be disposed to join the independent
party, was a project which would doubtless
suffice to gain over the army. But it is not
to England, now, that the white natives of
Cuba look for aid or countenance, in airy
future effort for independence. It is to
America that they now turn theireyes, and
America takes good care to respond to the
wishes that are secretly expressed in those
regards. YVe do not hesitate (says the
Magazine) to place confidence in these opin
ions in preference to the rose-tinted accounts
of the Madrid Heraldo, according to which
the present happiness, prosperity and loy
alty of the Havaneros are such as was nev
er surpassed in the annals of colonies.
If, as it is confidently asserted, the Amet
ican residents and Creoles are of them
selves a match for Spain, and could throw
offheryoke, and defy hereffortstore-impose
it, what would be-the result if 3 or 4,000
Y'ankee volunteers were suddenly to drop
upon the Cuban shore, by preconcerted ar
rangement with the disaffected ?
In 1849, this has been within an ace
of ocurring; in a future year, it may ac
tually occur. What would Spain do, in
this event I Would she declare war a
gainst America, on the strength of the war
steamers she has been lately building with
her creditors money ? Brother Jonathan,
we suspect, would mightily chuckle at the
notion, and immediately seize Puerto Rico,
and perhaps make a dash at the Philippi
nes, but the Spanish Government, would
hardly render themselves so ridiculous.—
No: in the hour of their distress they
would piteously look abroad for succor.
The writer thinks that, in this event,
Spain would call upon Great Britain for
interference, and that the appeal would be
answered, John Bull taking especial care
to stipulate for the payment of his Spanish
bonds before he sent a fleet and army to en
able the Don to wrest Cuba from the Con
quering Yankees When we have actual
taken Cuba there will be time enough to
reckon who is to get it away from us.
THE HUNGARIAN HEROINE.
The New Yorkers are lionizing M’lle
Apollonia Jagello, the young Hungarian
heroine who came over in the Herman.
On Sunday afternoon quite a scene was
got up in the dining room of the Irving
House, where she is staying. A tower of
confections was placed on the table after
the removal of the cloth, on one side of
which, among a variety of other devices,
was a figure of the heroine herself, deco
rated with the red sash, indicative of her
rank as Lieutenant in a Hungarian regi
ment of cavalry. She thanked the host,
in her native language, for the compliment
and then followed other honors and drink
ings of wine, to which she responded
standing. The Tribune describes her ap
pearance as follows:
Her figure, which is of the medium size,
appeared to much advantage. Her head
and neck are finely formed, her counten
ance having a remarkably sweet express
ion. Her person is full, but of delicate
and graceful symmetry. Her hair is of
light brown, the masses of which are
plain and simple folds upon her forehead.
Her eyes, naturally mild, are sometimes
lit up with a most brilliant and piercing
expression; In her demeanor she is ex
ceedingly amiable, kindly, retiring and
modest. She wore a dress of light blue
silk, with a tri-color scarf guacefully
thrown acioss her shoulders. Her orna
ments were but few, but of the rarest kind
kind of workmanship.
After dinner she went into the public
room, accompanied by Miss Donnelson
and family, when the other ladies sur
rounded her in groups, and bade her wel
come to this land of liberty.
Through the kindness of Mr. Howard,
we were enabled to see the Polka coat
worn by this brave creature, when, for the
benefit of her country, she exposed her
life, and went as a scout into the Austrian
camp. It is of white cashmere, thick and
strong of texture, lined with red cloth, and
braided with cording of the same color.—
The sabretache, or leather pocket, slung
over the shoulder by a leather belt, was
likewise shown us.
We may add that the story of M’lle Ja
gello's engagement to a Hungarian officer,
which was started by an English editor,
is positively contradicted by the New York
press.
Southern Women.—A letter in the Bos
ton Clironohjpc contains the following just
tribute to our fair citizens :
The first thing that struck me in regard
to the women af the South was their beau
ty of form—their symmetrical and harmo
nious figures. In this, and in the grace of
their motions they excel Northern women.
Many of them dress with exquisite taste
often very richly, but seldom gaudily, or
with any display of tinsel. The proverbi
al affability and urbanity of the Southern
character finds the fullest development in
the women. The Southern lady is natu
rally and necessarily easy, unembarrassed
and polite. You may go into the country
where you please ; you may go as far as
you please from town, village, and post-of
fice ; you may call at the poorest house
you can find, and whether you accost maid
or matron, you will be answered with the
same poiilesse. and treated with the same
spontaneous courtesy.
The Female \Y r AisT. —According to the
dimensions of the human frame, the female
waist should measure from twenty-seven
to twenty-nine inches; but some ladies do
not permit themselves to grow beyond
twenty-four, whilst thousands are laced to
twenty-two, and some to less than twenty
inches. Yellow faces and general debility
are the consequences.
Lima Customs. —The customs are rather
peculiar here ; any lady that peculiarly in
terests you, can, when she leaves the church,
be followed and addressed without offence;
should the interest be mutual, she will give
you a view of her face, and then, if you
choose, you can accompany her home; this
establishes yon as a calling acquaintance,
which can be followed up at leisure.
ii
Mr. George Copway, a chief of the
Chippeway, in a very able pamphlet, has
submitted to the consideration of Congress,
a plan for the “Organization of anew In
dian Territory, east of the Missouri River.”
■4 I
Hoggish. —A paddy writing from the
YVest says pork is so plenty that every
third man you meet is a hog.
‘That’s a thundering big lie,’ said
Frank. ‘No,’answered Bemus, it is only
a fulminating enlargement of elongated ve
racity.’
EDITOR’S DEPARTMENT.
WM. C. RICHARDS, Editor.
D. H. JACQUES, Assistant Editor.
CHARLESTON, S. C.:
Saturday Morning,....Mar. 2,1850.
Editorial Correspondence.
Macon, Feb. 23, 1850.
My dear J. —ln my former brief letter
from this place, 1 merely chiouicled the
disastrous fire of the 19th instant; so I
shall devote this communication to a gen
eral notice of the city. There is probably
no inland town in the South, the
spirit of improvement is more active than
in Macon. With a growth of little more
than a quarter of a century, it already
numbers, within its corporate limits, a pop
ulation of 4,500, which is steadily and ra
pidly increasing. The city is beautifully
situated upon both banks of the Ocmulgee,
but chiefly upon the western side of the
river. The business portion of the place
is nearly level, while to the north and
north-west, the land rises into hills, afford
ing admirable sites for private dwellings.
Much architectural taste and elegance
mark many r of the mansions already erect
ed, and numerous colonnades of snowy
whiteness gleam out in the sunlight, like
the facades of the beautiful temples of the
Old World. This is a decided feature of
Macon, and one which will not fail to
strike the eye of the intelligent visitor.—
Conspicuous among the edifices which
adorn the hills, is the Methodist Female
College, which cost, originally, upwardsof
SBO,OOO, and furnishes another illustration
of the oft-repeated folly of erecting costly
structures for Schools without ample en
dowment. The building was sold some
years since for a very inconsiderable sum,
but was not diverted from its original pur
pose. It is probably the most imposing af
fair of the kind in the South.
The business of the city is constantly
growing in extent and importance, and the
South-Western Rail Road, now in process
of construction, and to be in operation for
fifty miles the next Fall, will open to its
enterprising merchants a wide and fruitful
tributary region. Macon is in daily com
munication with Savannah by the Central
Rad Road, of 190 miles, and with Atlan
ta. by the Macon and Western Rail Road
of 101 miles. Both of these Roads are in
excellent condition, and working profitably.
The rates of travel upon ihem are respec
tively three and four cents a mile.
A mile northward of the city is the pret
ty suburb of Vineville —a village with a
population of about 500. It is inhabited
chiefly by people of means and leisure. In
the natural advance of the city, it will
doubtless, by and by, be absorbed into it*
limits.
The principal object of attraction which
Macon can boast, is her burial-ground
which is called “Rose Hill Cemetery.
is scarcely a mile from the city, upon the
west bank of the river, and covers an are*
of fifty acres. Its natural advantages are
equal, if not superior, to those of the fa
mous Mount Auburn. A more charming
diversity of hill and dale, of green”' 00 I
shade and sunny slope, of cool fountain i
and murmuring rivulet, could scarcel) ( I
found. It extends to the margin of llf I
river, the musical sound of whose * ver I
flowing waters mingles with the sighing I
of the breeze through the pines and ot * I
evergreens of this “ garden of the dea ■
The Cemetery has been open about v ■
years, and contains some very I
monuments. It is highly creditable to ■
city, and must inevitably be a * a vo r ■
place of resort. .
There is much pleasant and culti’
society in Macon. Its numerous
mansions already alluded to, and <!’ ■