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EDITED Bl THOMAS HAYNES. VOL. VI. NO. 10. of BY I*. E. ROBINSON. Stale Printer, And Publisher (by authority) of the Laws of the United States. ISSLED EVER* TVESDAY MORNING. XT TERM? 4 .—Three Dollars per annum. No subscription taken for less than a year, and no paper discontinued, but nt the option of the publisher, until all arrear arc paid. CH \NGE OF DIRECTION.—W e desire such of our subscriln'rs as may at any time wish the direction :*»rir papers chanced from one Post Office to anotlwr, to iaform us, in all ca«e«, of tbe.place to which they had been previously sent; as the mere order to forward them to a different office, places it almost out of our power to cwnph, because wo have no moans of ascertaining the office from which they are •rder*’ I to be changed, but by a s. uch through our whole subscription kook, con taining several thousand names. ADVERTISEMENTS inserted at the usual rates. Sales ©f LAND, by Admi nistrators. Executors, or Guardians, arc required by law to be held on the first Tues day in the month, between the hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the after noon, at the Court House in the county in which the property is situate. Notice of these sales must be given in a public gazette SIXTY DAYS previous to the day o l •ale. Sales of NEGROES must be at public auction, on the first Tuesday of the month between the usual hours ot sale, at the place of public sales in the county where the letters Administration or Guardianship, may have been granted, first giving SIXTY DAYS notice thereof, in one of the public gazettes of this State* •ad at th » door of th© Court House where such sales arc to be held. Notice tor the sale ot Personal Property must be given in like manner, FORTY DAYS previous to the day of sale. Notice to the Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must be published FORTY' nt mice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to selj LAND, must be published for FOUR MONTHS. Notice for leave to sell NEGROES, must bo published for FOUR MONTHS before any order absolute shall be made by the Court thereon. Notice ol Application for Letters of Administration must be published THIRTY’ DAYS. Notic eof Application for Letters of Dismission from the Administration of an Es tate, are required to be published monthly for SIX MONTHS. MISCELLANEOUS. From the Aetr- York Sunday Aetct. THE HYPOCHONDRIAC. by a. ai.lan, author of the drama of “ Leila.” Davy 1) was the most confirmed hypochondriac I ever knew. He revelled in the ridiculous. Nething seemed too' absorb or extravagant for his imagination to conceive ; and the i more obstinately h? clung to them, the more difficult they were to cure. His friends and family were kept in a state of con-j slant uneasiness and perplexity; for, no sooner had they sue- ; ceeded in driving one vagary from his brain, than another en- ' tercd and took possession. Now he conceited that he was still in infancy, and must needs be treated accordingly—fed with a spoon and lullabied to sleep ; and now his nose, his arms, his legs, or some other portion of his body had been changed to glass, or some equally brittle material, and in spite of the evi dence of his senses to the contrary, he would cling tenaciously to the idea till a new crotchet kicked the old one outof the way. Ytl tin re was a method in bis madness,” which often enabled those who were best acquainted with him to guess the form it was likely to assume, for they invariably remarked that his conceits bore a strong affinity to any subject that had previous ly excited his anger or his mirth. Thus, on reading an ac count of the Pennsylvania election, he imagined himselfone of the abstracted ballot boxes; and again, on the arrival of the Great Western, he discovered that he had been transformed in to a steamship for the Liverpool trade. We could mention many instances of the kind, for which, probably, those who are unacquainted with the strange nature of the disease, would sup pose we were drawing on our own invention, instead of narrat ing facts. How, or when he became thus afflicted, ive cannot say; forofhis'history prior to the commercial panic of eight een hundred and thirty-seven, we know nothing, having been I first introduced to him about that period. He was married to a young and lovely woman, and sufficiently well off to live on the interest of his money, w ithout entering into business or spe culation. In his habits, he was temperate and regular, and his manners were gentlemanly in the extreme, when he was in the full possession ol bis senses, although at other times his irrita- I bilily cot the better of them. His person was rather spare, and his face had a wobegone expression that seemed to have be come habitual to it; for, if by chance a smile found its way to his lips, it was instantly banished again, as if it were an tinwel- 1 come intruder. There were times—though rare when he would indulge in mirth, but that mirth was always followed bv on expression of deeper gloom. It was a gleam of sunshine lost in n thunder-cloud. The numerous fancies that in turn! took possession ofhis brain, would fill a volume with ludicrous ' m liter ; but we shall only detail a few of them, that came under our personal observation. 1 was hastily crossing the Park one day, about this time last ycat, when I observed 1) approaching slowly from the op- posite direction. B >tli hands were thursl deeply into his pock els, and hi« head hung droopinc on his breast, giving to him the appearance ol a culprit sneaking home after receiving a I sound flogging. There was evidently something the matter ■ with him. Perhaps he bad become a sufferer from the general I embarrassments of the country. He did not notice me till I ' wes close upon him and then lie would have passed me without ' a recognition, had I not laid my hand upon his shoulder. “ W liy, I) , wli it is the matter?” I exclaimed, seeing him shrink back, as if he would fain avoid me. “ I’m no longer worth a cent,” be drawled out, w ith a bitter sigh. “ Impossible !” responded 1—“ It cannot be so bad as that! Why, I always thought you were safe enough.” “ Aye,” said he, bitterly, “so did everybody; but it’s all a ' humbug! I’m not worth a single copper. Don’t you know that (lie Newark shinplasters are no longer passable ?” “ Why, yes ; but what is that to you ? I asked, with a faint notion that he might have been speculating in them. “Can’t yon read ?” he demanded, in the quick irritable tone lie was accustomed to use, when he deemed that an unnecessary question was ask' d. “ Can’t you read on my face ?—promise to pay—mayor and corporation—fifty cents, jcc. Sir, I’m dis honored ! —Every body rejects me ! —A shoemaker—yes, sir, a shoemaker w ith a wife and eleven children—children starving —wife without an under petticoat—a journeyman shoemaker with thirteen mouths and nothing to put into them, would turn up liis nose at me, while a tailor would only think of using me to light liis nine-for-a-shilling segar. A 'cookee-vender would turn me out of his shop, and an old apple-woman actually re fused to take me this morning for a quart of peanuts. I’m ashamed to be seen, poor, dishonored and rejected shinplaster that I am.” I looked in his face to see whether ho might not be jesting, and its woful expression compelled me to turn aside my head to avoid a laugh. “ Pho !” said I—knowing how useless it was to oppose his conceit—“Pho! you will soon again be at par.” “Never!” he replied, vehemently—“never, sir! Public confidence is gone ! —l’m nothing but a humbug ! —a cheat! an arrant cheat, sir! —an imposition on public credulity, and an object of universal contempt.” “ Why IK)t returOt then> t() Newark . wi || t, e good there,” rejoined I, not knowing what else to say. “ Sixpence to cross the ferry, three shillings for the cars, and another sixpence for a whetter. Nr, g„ !_ cost my whole n?w one m <1 t l ’ ,erC “°. w " er * after all : exchanged for a m.w one, and torn to pieces—not such a fool !—stay here an everlasting remembrance of Newark knavery ” * <2.? t a <r‘ g ’ lie,,,,lr . Sll,isl ' a,,,lsi, ' to llis Pockets again, and started on at a round pace in ilm j;,., . I stopped him. ’ direction he was going when How long this conceit lasted, we know r i-1 meet him again for some time. Hi. neo f ° r We <l,d not gant, was at least the source of great un ’ n "°‘ r C f lri *7 from the alarm they experienced lesH.T ia *‘° 1,18 fam ' ly ’ jif e . y 1 ncea ,est 11 sh <>uld prove fatal to his *l„. D , and a number „f friend^.,!,| tMtl from ll,e WwfW OT country —had just set down to tea, w hen 1) entered, and look his seat at the table, in moody silence. He appeared restless and uneasy, but his wife was so accustomed to his fid getty way, that she took no particular notice of him till after she had helped all around. Perceiving that he touched noth ing, she inquired, rather anxiously, whether he was ill. In stead ot answering, he pointed to his mouth, and uttered a strange jabbering noise through his closed lips. “ W by, what on earth is the matter, Mr. D , with a pre- sentiment that some absurdity was about to follow. “ What on earth is the matter ?” D groaned, and again began to jabber. Perceiving that he was not understood, he burst into tears. “ W hat does this mean?” inquired Mrs. 1) —— rising in some alarm. “D ! D ! what is the matter?” He took a pencil from his pocket, and wrote on the back of a let ter—“ My lips are glued together.” “Good Heaven !” exclaimed Mrs. D , aware, from long experience, that her best plan was to humor him. “ I did not perceive it before. How did it happen?” D wrote again. “ I was observing the workmen laying the asphaltum pavement in Broadway, when the wind blew the smoke from the hot substance in my face. When I got home, I found that my lips were fast.” “ Heaven be praised ! it is not too late to soften it again,” replied Mrs. I) , briskly. “Here, Betty, bring me a basin ol hot w ater and a towel.” D looked al her ruefully and shook his head. “Now, my dear,” she added, as soon as the girl had obeyed her command, “ bend your head forward a lit tle, while I wash I lie asphaltum from your lips.” With the utmost gravity she proceeded to sop the mouth of the hypochondriac with the scalding water, amid the ill-sup pressed laughter of the company to whom the strange proceed- I ing was a novelty. A burst which they could not control, on perceiving how D winced under the operation, caused him to start up, cast on them a look of withering indignation, and rush from the room. 1 or nearly two days lie persisted in the idea that he could not unclose his lips. He refused food : became quite indig nant when it was offered him, and accused them of mocking | him in his affliction. No coaxing could induce him to eat or - speak, although he was evidently suffering from hunger most severely, lie took to his bed complaining bitterly that in the midst of plenty he must starve to death. At length Doctor , H was called in and made acquainted with the facts of the ! case. “ Aha! I see how it is!” said he, after feeling D— ’s pulse and going through the other formalities.—“ Difficult case!— well you applied to me in time ! —must perform an operation! —got a chemical preparation for dissolving asphaltum !—send you a vial!—must soak your lips every half hour to-night, and to-morrow I will bring my instruments.” According to promise, about dusk the doctor sent in a large )ial, full of some harmless mixture, with directions for its im mediate use. D had persuaded himself that nothing could he of any service to him ; but the entreaties of his wife induced him to try the doctor’s remedy. “ M ell!” said the doctor when lie visited his patient next morning, “has our wash done any good?” * shook his head, and muttered something that sound ed very much like “ humbug!” Let me see ! let me see !” rejoined the doctor, examining D ’ s mouth with great attention. “Aha! here’s a little crack! we shall soon put all to rights now; but it will be ne cessary to perform a slight operation. You’re not afraid of trusting to my skill, I hope.” D looked ruefully at the different instruments which the doctor pulled from his pocket, and, after a few moments hesitation, threw himself back in the bed and turned his face down upon the pillow. M ith the utmost difficulty he was at last persuaded to under go an operation. His hands were fastened down and his eyes , bandaged. The doctor had found a decayed tooth and was de termined to draw it. The cutting of the gum caused D I to wince, but the doctor took the opportunity to force his mouth open sufficiently wide for bis purpose. As he proceeded to fix the instrument, D became restive, but the encouraging ex- clamations ofhis wife quieted him for the moment. “ Damn it! you have knocked my head off!” yelled D as the tooth flew out. “He speaks ! he speaks! Heaven be praised, you have suc ceeded in restoring him,” exclaimed Mrs. D——, throwing herself into D ’s arms. D was cured, but he never forgave the doctor for the loss of' his tooth. Our space will only permit the narration of another short anecdote: “ 1 wonder what can have become of Mr. D ?” exclaimed his wife one day, after waiting an hour beyond their usual din ner-time. Betty, have you seen him since the morning!” “ No, ma’am, I hav’nl seen nothing of him since he carried the ba-ket of egg« up stairs,” replied Betty. Eggs? why, what diil he want with eggs?” inquired Mrs. D , in a tone of surprise. “ Don’t know, ma’am,” said Betty, as «lie left the room. The afternoon passed, but brought no Mr. D . Supper time came, and his wife became alarmed. She was looking anx iously out of the window when the girl entered, striving to sup press her merriment. “Oh, madam, Air. 1) is in such a curious position.— Please to come up stairs and look at him !” Airs. D followed the girl to the garret. There, in a small, dark bed-chamber, which had always been used as a lumber-room, sat Air. D , crouching down in a large clothes-basket, and endeavoring to cover the eggs he had taken up therein the morning. THE CONQUEROR AND THE UPRIGHT JUDGE. Mohammed the second being, like Itm, a very passionate monarch, severely rebuked his architect for not having built his mosque of the same height as “ Aya Sofiyah and also for having cut down the columns, which were each worth the whole tribute of Rum (Asia Minor.) The architect excu sed himself by laying that be had reduced the two columns three cubits each, in order to give his building more solidity and strength against the earthquakes so common in Islambol; and had thus made the mosque lower than Aya Sofiyah. The emperor, not satisfied with this excuse, ordered the architect’s hand s to be cut ofl; which was done accordingly. On the following day the architect appeared with his family before the tribunal of the Kazi, styled “ Islambol Alolusi,” to lay his com plaint against the emperor, and appeal to the sentence of the law. The Judge immediately sent bis officer to cite the em peror to appear in court. The conqueror, on receiving this summons, said : “The command of the prophet’s law must be obeyed !” and putting on his mantle and thrusting a mace into his belt, went into the court of law. After having ghen the Selim Aleik, he was about to seat himself in the highest place, when the Kazi said : “Sit not down, O prince! but stand on thy feet, together with thine adversary, who has made an appeal to the law.” The architect then made liis complaint: “Aly lord, I am a perfect master builder, and a skilful mathematician ; but this man, because I made his mosque low, and cut down two ofhis columns, lias cut ofl' my two hands, which lias ruined me, nnd deprived me of the means of supporting my family; it is thy part to pronounce the sentence of the noble law.” The judge upon this, thus addressed the emperor: “What sayest thou, prince! have you caused this man’s hands to be cut off innocently ?” The emperour replied : “By heaven, my lord!” this man lowered my mosque; and for having reduced two columns of mine, each worth the produce of Misr (Egypt,) thus robbing iny mosque of all renown, by making it so low, I did cut ofl' his hands: it is for thee to pronounce the sentence of the no ble law.” The Kazi answered : “ Prince, renowri is a misfortune ! If a mosque be upon a plain, and low and open, worship in it is not thereby prevented. If each column had been a precious YIILLEDGEVII.LE, GEORGIA, TUESDAY MOttAIAG, HI AY 14, IS3». Our Cnnncienrt—‘Our Country—Our Party. stone its value would have been only that of a stone; but the hands of this man which have enabled him for these forty years to subsist by bis skilful workmanship, you have illegally "cut off. He can henceforth do no more than attend to his domestick af fairs. The maintenance of him ami Jiis numerous family ne cessarily, by law, falls upon thee. What sayest thou, prince? Sultan Mohammed answered, “Thou must pronounce the sentence of the law.” “This is the legal sentence,” replied the Kaxi: “If the ar chitect requires the law to be strictly enforced, your hands must be cut off; for if a man do an illegal act which the uoble law doth not allow, that law decrees that he shall be requited ac cording to his deeds.” The Sultan then offered to grant him a pension from the public treasury of the Mussulmans. “No !” replied the Molla ; “ it is not lawful to take this from the public treasury; the offence was yours :my sentence there fore is, that from your own private purse you allow this maimed man ten aktehahs a day.” “It is well,” said the conqueror; “let it be twenty aktehahs a day ; but let the cutting off his hands be legalized.” The architect in the contentment of his heart, exclaimed, “Be it accounted lawful in this world and the next; and hav ing received a patent for his pension, withdrew. Sultan Mo hammed also received a certificate of his entire acquittal. The Kaxi then apologized for having treated him as an ordinary suitor; pleading that the impartiality of the law requires jus tice to be administered to all without distinction, and entreating the emperor to seat himself on the sacred carpet. “Effendi,” said Sultan Mohammed, angrily, “ if thou hadst shown favour to me, saying to thyself, “This is the Sultan,” and hadst wronged the architect, I would have broken thee in pieces with this mace,” at the same time drawing it out from under the skirt of his robe. “ And if thou, prince,” said the Kazi, “hadst refused to obey the legal sentence pronounced by me, thou wouldst have fallen a victim to divine vengeance, for I should have delivered thee up to be destroyed by the dragon beneath this carpet.” On saying which he lifted up his carpet, and an enormous dragon put forth its head, vomiting fire from its mouth. “Be still,” said the Kazi; and again laid the carpet smooth : on which the Sultan kissed his noble hands, wished him good day, and re turned to his palace. ANECDOTE OF A SICILIAN NOBLE. The Prince Butera was one ot those splendid examples which modern history seldom affords. He was a relic of an cient Sicilian nobility, chivalrous and hold as the Normans, from whom their order sprang. Hercules was he called, and his fine athletic figure seemed formed upon the model of his mythological namesake. He could fell to the earth a restiff horse with one blow of his fist, break across his knee a bar of iron an inch thick, and bend a piaster between his fingers. One striking specimen of his coolness in the midst of danger, had rendered him extremely popular with the inhabitants of Palermo. In the year 1770, there was a great scarcity of bread in that city a violent insurrection was the consequence. The governor was compelled, in self-dence, to have recourse to the ultima ratio ; a cannon was planted in the streets. Tiie people rushed forward towards the gun, and the artillery-man who held the match was abontlo fire it upon the mob, when the Prince Butera sealing himself on the mouth of the piece as carelessly as if throwing himself into an arm-chair, addressed them in a speech so reasonable, and so eloquent, that the mob fell back, the cannon was withdrawn unfired, and the blood of the people was unshed. Nor was this the sole cause of the prince’s popularity. It was his custom to walk every morning on the terrace which overlooks the Marina ; and as the gates of his palace were al ways open to the public at day-break, he usually found congre gated about him a very large assemblage of poor people. Up on these occasions he used to wear a buckskin leather waistcoat, the excessively roomy pockets of which were every morning filled with carlims and half carlins, by his valet, every one <Ff which disappeared before lie returned to the palace. But his dispensations of charity were made in a manner at once pecu liar and unnatural to him, inasmuch as he outwardly ap peared very much disposed to knock down every poor person who ventured to implore his benevolence; an apnearnce which, considering his highness’s bulk and capabilities, was anything but agreeable or soothing to the mendicants. “ Prince,” says a poor woman, surrounded by her infant family, “ have pity upon the poor mother of five children.” “Five children !” answers his highness, “ what are votir five children to me ? they are none of mine,” and then with a look of assumed anger, he let fall a piece of money in her apron. “ Prince,” says another, “ I have had no bread these two days.” “ Go along, you foolish fellow !” replies the prince, feigning to give him a blow with his fist, which would have been enough to feed him for a w eek, “ how can I help that ? I don’t make bread. Why don’t you go to the baker ?” affording him al the same moment, ample means to follow his advice. The conse quence was, that the Prince Butera was received bv the peo ple wherever he went with every mark of affection and respect. One person however, complained bitterly of bis highness’s liberality, and that was his wiaz/re r/’AoZeZ, who bv no means approved of his indiscriminate admission of guests of all ranks and conditions to his illustrious master’s table. The prince’s dinners were of the first order, and notwithstanding their luxury and magnificence, his highness literally kept open house, his parties seldom consisting of less than twenty or thirty, of whom seven or eight w ere generally strangers; while the greater number of those who were not, dined as regularly with his highness, as the most punctual customers of a most popular table d'hote. Among this latter class, w as one Captain Altavilla, who had obtained his rank in the army by follow ing Cardinal Roto from Palermo to Naples, and who had returned from Naples to Palermo, with a pension of a thousand ducats. Unfortunate ly, the captain, like many of bis betters, was sadly addicted to play ; bis ill-luck at which would have rendered his income wholly inadequate to bis expenditure, had he not hit upon two plans, the execution of which rendered his quarter’s pay the least important branch of his revenue. The first of these plans was to dine every day at the prince’s table, which, as we have already seen, was no very difficult ob ject to achieve, since it was free to all; but the second was some thing n little more perilous, and not quite so venal. Every day after he had dined, the captain contrived regularly to car ry off the silver fork and spoon, which he had used at dinner. This very gentlemanly proceeding went on for some time with out detection and even without the diurnal abstraction of the articles being discovered; but profusely as his highnesses side boards were furnished, the diinunition of stock at length be came evident to the major-domo, and having, as servants some times will, taken a strong aversion to the captain, his suspicions fell upon /um; he began to watch his movements carefully • two or three days only were required to convert those suspi cions into certainty, and having established the fact to his en tire satisfaction, the vigilant domestic proceeded forthwith to inform his illustrious master of the fact. The prince having heard the story, paused for a moment and then said very quietly, “I don’t know—l am very sorry for it but as long as the captain pockets only his own folk and spoon, I have nothing to say—when he begins to walk ofl' with those of his neighbors, I must make up my mind to do something,” and in consequence of this extraordinary show of lenity, the captain, to the great discomfiture of the major-domo continued one of the constant guests at the palace of liis ex cellency the Prince de Butera. Balaam’s Sword.—The keeper of a museum, among other curi osmes, exhibited an old rustv sword, which he assured the spectators, was the same with winch Balaam slew -the ass ‘But,’said one of them, ‘if I recollect the scripture right, Balaam did _not slay the ass, but merely wished for a sword, that ho might . ! r "f“ >’ 0 "’ re , ''k'l't. Mister,'you’re right,’ said thc keeper, and this is thc very identical sword that Balaam wished for.’ THOUGHTS ON LAWYERS. BY THEODORE S. FAY. The nominal purpose of a Court of Justice is to seek the truth; but I question whether the truth is ever in other cases more attacked, sneered at, brow-beaten, ridiculed, and put uut <•1 countenance. It is the truth, which every man in his turn finds it his interest to conceal. It is truth that every one is alrajd of. Even the party most unequivocally in the right is anxious to exclude the truth from the other side, lest it may seem to contradict his own; and all the lawyers, and even the Judge, seem as much on the watch to stop the witness’ mouth, every two minutes, as they have been to make him open it. Io me, one of the most ridiculous things is, a witness upon the stand, trying, (poor fellow!} to give in his testimony. He is, we will suppose, not iu the slightest degree interested iu either of the parlies, and doubtless wishes them both tied together by the neck, and dropped off the stern of one of the North river steamboats. He eotnes into tLe court, not voluntarily, but dragged, if he resists, by two or three scow ling ministers of the law, who, from the mere fact of his being presumed to know something about the pending suit, think themselves entitled to treat him as if be had been brought up for robbing a hen-roost. He is forced from his business or his amusements for the purpose of speaking the truth, and he inwardly resolves to tell the whole story as soon as possible, and get rid of the thing. He thinks he knows the worst. —He thinks the loss of lime, and the awk wardness of speaking for the first time in his life iu public, are the extent of his sufferings.—Unsuspecting victim ! He uo sooner mounts the stand, than he finds himself at once in the centre of a circle of enemies, and holding a position not greatly unlike that of a prisoner in an Indian war-dance, he tries to tell bis story. Witness. I was going down Maiden Lane— First Lawyer. Stop, sir. Second Lawyer. Don’t interrupt the witness. Third Lawyer. The witness is ours. Fourth Lawyer, (Fiercely and indignantly,) we want the fact. •Judge. Let the witness tell liis story. Witness. I was going down Maiden Laue, where 1 live— First Lawyer. We dont want to know where vou live sir. Sk mid Lawyer. That is a part of the testimony. 1 hird Lawyer. You can take the witness into your own hands when we are done with him ; at present he is ours. Wimess turns pale. Fourth lawyer. (Sarcastically,) very well sir. Judge. Gentlemen, I beg of you sit down. One of the Aldermen. Officer, keep order. Officer. (In a tone of thunder, and with a scowl of more than oriental despotism, upon the spectators, who ain’t making any noise that they know of) Silence. Witness. I was going down Maiden Lane, where I reside, as I said before, when— * • I irst Lawyer. You dont come here to repeat what you said before, sir- • Second Lawyer. 1 beg— Third Lawyer, (Starting upon his feet,) I demand. Fourth Lawyer. 1 appeal to liis honor the Judge, to pro tect tnefrom the impertinence of this witpess. First, second, third, fourth lawyer and Judge together. The witness must. Officer. (Looking at the audience again, and in a voice of thunder) Silence. Judge. Gentlemen, it seems to me that the best way to come at the truth is to let the witness go on, and I will call him to order if he wanders from his duty. Witness! Witness. Your honor. Judge. Tell the plain fact of this assault—tell the jury what you know about; remember you are here to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth : raise your voice, turn v our face to the jury. What do you know of this affair ? The poor wretch commences again, the first, second, third and fourth lawyer continuing to skirmish around him all the while, like a parcel of wild Arabs fighting for the clothes of some unhappy prisoner. So far from forgetting a chance of saying the truth. At length bewildered out of his recollection, frightened, insulted, and indignant; however, really, desirous of telling the truth, he stumbles upon some inconsistency, some trifling paradox ; accounted for at once, to every one’s satisfac tion, by the idea that he has forgotten. But then comes the cross examination. Then the scientific artillery of a cool, able lawyer, sharpened by thirty years of similar practice, isbrought to bear upon one trembling and already nervous stranger; per-. haps, ignorant, perhaps a boy. Then comes the laugh of judge and jury, the murmur of astonishment from the crowd, that a person could be found degraded and base enough to say that “ the defendant wore a little rimmed hat,” when he ac knowledged subsequently, oft’ his guard, that the bat had “a tolerably large rim.” Then the poor fellow, sore all over, and not quite sure that lie will not himself be sent to the states prison at ten year’s hard labor, for perjury before the week has rolled away, although be is the only person in the court, who does not, in a greater or less degree merit that punishment, is dismissed to a bench, a few yards off, where he is obliged to remain, to hear the lawyers, in their addresses to the jury, tear his character to pieces, with fine turns of rhetoric and yet finer gesticulations. “ What gentlemen of the jury ” says the first lawyer summing up in a tone of the deepest contempt, “what does the next wit ness, this Mr. Bogga, say?”—Gentlemen he conies forth under the most peculiar circumstances. A dark mystery shrouds his motives, which I shall not endeavor to dissolve. But becomes forward, and he takes his place upon the witness stand, with the determined resolution to fix upon my client, the injured Mr. Swipe, this foul and unnatural assault and battery. You saw him,gentlemen, when I cross examined him, tremble under my eye; you saw him hesitate and turn pale at my voice. ( The first la vyer very probably, has a voice that would intimi date a bear.) You heard him stammer, and take back, and not recollect. Is this gentlemen of the jury, an honest witness? 1 lie language of truth is plain and simple-—-it requires no pre vious calcu) ition. If 1 ask you if you saw the sun set to-day, you answer yes or no ; you do not hesitate, you do not trem ble. Aou do not say, “ yes, I did, and in the very next breath, “no I did not.” You do not at first tell me, “ I walked ten miles yesterday,” and afterwards say, “ yesterday I was all day in bed.” (Here one of the jurors put his nose by that of anot.ier, and utter something in approbation of this argument, ami the other one nods his head and looks at the speaker, as much as to say, “ there is no use to elude the sagacity of this keen sighted lawyer. The witness might have belter told the truth.) Now, what does this witness say? H<’commenced by telling you, gentlemen, that he lived in Maiden Lane, that lie was going home on the day when this ridiculous, unnatural assault is said to have taken place, that he saw a crowd, that he approached, that he saw Mr. Swipes, my ebe.'it, the defendant in this action, come up to the plaintill', Mr. Wilkins, and gave him blow with a bludgeon. But, gen tlemen, when I come to sift this plausible story, you heard him equivocate and contradict himself. “ What sort of a hat had Mr. Swipes on? “A black one.” “Os what breadth was the rim ?”—“ About an inch.” He thought, doubtless, that he was to have every thing his own way, till I brought upon the stand to confront him, the hatter who made and sold the hat, and who proves to you that the rim was broad. You cannot morally doubt that the hat worn on that day, by Mr. Swipes, was a broad brimmed hat, all the witnesses for the defendant swear it. l\Tr. Boggs himself, when closely questioned, ac knowledges that it might have been a broad brimmed hat.— Next, gentlemen, the pantaloons. “What color were Mr. Swipes pantaloons ? ‘Black,’ said this Boggs. Gentlemen, I have produced these pantaloons in court. They have been identified beyond the possibility of doubt. What was the re sult? You saw yourselves, gentlemen. The pantaloons were pepper and salt.” A cry of admiration throughout the court room. The poor witness unfortunately occupies a conspicuous seat, and all eyes are fixed upon him with the most virtuous indignation. He is calculating at what sacrifice he can wind up his business., and P. L. ROBINSON, PROPRIETOR. go and settle in Kentucky. The lawyer waxes triumphant, and after a withering look at Boggs, goes on. “ Furthermore, gentlemen, I asked this witness to describe the Mudgeon. He could not. Had jt ivory or gold on the handle ? He could not tell. Was there a ferule upon the end? Did not know. Was it heavy ? Yes. Had he ever handled it? No. How could he tell the weight of a thing which he had never handled ? (Another buz of admiration.) Was he ever personally acquainted with Mr. Swipes? No. Had he ever seen him before? No. Since? No. Could he tell whether he bad an aquiline nose or not? No. Was he not a ftiend ol Air. Milkins? Yes, he had said the scoundrel ought to have been ashamed of himself. Was Mr. Wilkins’ hat knocked off No. But before he left the stand, he said he saw the blood on the top of plaintiffs’ head.—How could he see the blood on the top of his head, unless the hat had been knocked off from it ? Another Bux. The witness here rose and said, “ Mr. Wilkins tookil off to show me.” Officer—Silence, there! Judge—Witness, you must not interrupt the counsel. Yon have had your turn on the stand. You then had the opportu nity to say whatever you pleased. If you are again guilty of so great au indecorum, I shall be obliged to commit you. Witness stands stupified. xir^^ Cei down ! (in a tone of indignant command. VVitness sits down. Officer scowls at him as if he would snap bis head off) 1 I shall not follow the learned gentleman further. I only ap peal to every witness that has ever been brought into a court of justice, whether he has not found it the most difficult place in the world to tell the truth in, and whether, when the truth was at length told, there ever were so many attempts made to misti ly it ? Whether so much of what every one present knew in his heart to be the truth, could any where else be so deliberately rejected, and whether, when this poor, belabored, mutilated, unhappy truth, so much demanded, was at length produced, it did not have such an aspect, so disguised, that its own mother might not have known it? borrowing a gridiron, On, Paddy Mui.lowny’s Adventure in France, —A certain old gentleman in the West of Ireland, whose love of the ridiculous quite e<pr,i> his taste for claret and fox hunting, was wont upon reliant festive occasions, when opportunity offered, to amuse his It tends by drawing out one of his servants who was exceeding fond of what he called bis travels— and in whom a gootj deal of whim, some queer stmii s, and perhaps more than all, long and faithful ser vices, had established a sort of right of loquacity. He was one of these few and trusty domestics, who, if his master unlteedinglv utter ed a rash thing in a fit of passion, would venture to set him right. If tbo squire said, “ I’ll turn that rascal off,” my friend Pat would say, “troth you won’t sir;” and Pat was always right, for ifanyal tei cation arose upon the “subject muter in hand,” he was sure to throw in some good reason, either from former service—general good conduct—or the delinquent’s “ wife and children,” that always turn ed the scale. But I am digressing ; on such meiry meetings as I have alluded to, the master alter making certain “ approaches,” as a military man would say, as the preparatory step in laying siege to some extrava ganza of his servant, might perchance, assail Pat thus: By the bye Sir John, (addressing a distinguished guest,) P it has a very curious story which something you told me to-day reminds me of. You re member, I at, (turning to the matt, evidently pleased at the notice thus paid to himself,) you remember the queer adventure \ou had in lit rance.” . “Troth Ido Sir,” grins forth Pat. “What !’’ exclaims Str John, tn feigned surprise. “ was Pat ever in France!” “Indeed, he was,” cried my host—and Pat adds, “ay, and farther, plaze yer honor ; “ I assure yo i Sir John,” continues my host, “Pat told me a st yy once thatsurprised me very much, respecting the ignorance ol tne r tench.” “Indeed,” rejoins the baronet, “ really I always supposed the Frence to be a most accomplished people ” “Troth then, they’re not, sir,” interrupts Pat. “ Oh, by no means” adds imwn host, snaking liis head I - when you were crossing the Adan . ’ vs tin master, turning to Pat with a seducive air, and leading I ; m into the "full and true’ac count,” (for Pat had thought fit to visit “.North Atnerikay,” for “a rason he had,” in the autumn of the year ’98.) “Yes, sir,” says Pat, “ the broad Atlantic,” a favorite phrase of his, which he gave with a brogue as broad, almost, as the Atlantic itself. “It was the time 1 was lost in crosstn’ the bread Atlantic a cornin’ home,’ began Pat, decoyed into the recital—“whin the winds began to blow, and sea to rowl, that you’d think the Colleen dhas, (that was her name) would not have a mast left but would row] out of her. Well, sure enough, the masts went by the brood, at last, and the pumps’ were choak’d (divil choak them for that same,) and ov course the wather gained an ut, and troth to be filled with wather is neither good for man or baste; and she was siukin’ fast, settlin’down as the sailors calls it, and faith I never was good at settlin’ down in my life, and 1 liked it then less nor ever: accordingly we prepared for the worst, and put out the boat, and got a sack o’ bishkets, and a cashk o’ pork, and a kak o’ wather, and a tin isle o’ rum aboard, and any other little matthers we could think ov in the mortial hurry we were in—and faith there was no time to be lost, for by daylite, the Colleen dhas went down like a lump o’ lead, afore we were many sthrokes o’ the oar away from her. Well, we dhrifted away all that night, and next mornin put up a piece ov sail as well as we could, fer we darnt show a stitch o’ canvass the night before, bekase it was blowin like bloody murther, savin’ your presence, and sure its the wondher o’ the world wo worn’t swallu’d alive by the ragin’sea—well, away we wint; for more nor a week, and nothin before our two good-looking eves but the canopy ov heaven and wide ocean—the broad Atlantic-■divil a thing was to be seen but the sea and the sky, and though the sea and the sky is mighty puny things in themselves, s'ill in all, yet by rnv sowl the’re no great things when you’ve nothin’ else to look at for a "eek together and the barest rock in the world, so it was land, would be more welkim. And then, soon enough troth our provisions began to run low, the bishkits, and the wather, and the rum—troth that Was gone first of all God help uz—and oh! it was thin that starvation began to stare uz in the face—“Oh, murther, murther, captain dar lint,” says I, “I wish we could see land any where,” says I. “More power to your elbow, Paddy, my boy,” says he, “ for such a good wish, and troth its myself that wishes the same.” “Oh God grant it,” says I, “ dear sweet queen of heaven, supposing it was only a dissolute islands,” says I, “ inhabited wid Turks, sure they would’nt be such bad Christians as to refuse us a bit and a sup ” “Whist, whist, Paddy,” says the captain, “ don’t be talk'll bad of any one,” says he, “you don’t know how soon you may want a good word put for himself, if you should be called to quarthers in th’ other world all of a suddent,” says he. “ Thrue for you, captain darlint,” says I—(I called him darlint, and made free wid him, vou see bekase disthress makes uz all equal)—“thrue for you captain, jewel; God betune uz and harm, I owe no man any spite—and troth that was only trute. Well, the last bishkit was sarved out, and by gor, the wather itself was all gone at last, and we passed tlw night mighty cowid ; well, at the break o’day the sun riz most beautifully out o’ the waves, that was as bright as silver, and as clear as crysh thal. But it was only the more cruel upon uz, for we wor beginnin’ to feel terrible hungry ; when all at wanst I thought I spied die land; by gor, I thought 1 felt my heart up in my throat in a ininnit, and thunder an’ nuns, captain,” says 1, “look to leeward!” says I. “ W hat for!’ says he. “ I think I see the land,” says I, so he ups with his brina 'em near, (that’s what the sailors call a spy-glass, sir,) and looks out, and, sure ’nough it was. “ Hurra 1 ..«ys he, “we re all right now: pull awav bovs,” says he. “ Take i voo’re nol mistaken,” says I, “ may be its only a ; < cn;>!;. rtu lint,” says I. “Oh no,” says he, “ its the 1 uid in ■'* Oh then whereabouts in the wide world are we?” says 1. “ ,un, may he it be in Roosia, Proosia, or the German Oceant, »ays i. “ I tit you tool,” says be, (for he had that consis ted way with him—thinkin himself ejevorer than any one else,) “ tut you fool,” says he, “ that’s France, says hr. “Fire an’ ouns,” savs I, “do you tell me so—and how do you know it’s France France it is capiant. dear ?” says 1. “ Bekase’this is the Bay o’ Bishkav we’re in now,” says li". “Troth, I was thinkin’ so myself,” says l, “by the rowl it has, for I often heare ov it in regird o’ that same, and troth the likes ov it I never seen before nor sense, and with the help o’ God never will. 1 V ell, with that my heart began to grow light, and when I seen mv life was safe I began to grow twice hungrier nor everso says I Captain, jewel, I wish we had a gridiron.” “ \V hy then,” says’ be, “ thunder and turf,” says be, “ what puts a gridiron into your head ? “ what puts a gridiron into your head 1” “Bekase I’m starvin with the hunger,” says!. “ And sure bad luck to you,” sa vs he, “ you could’nt ate a gridiron,” says he “ bar rin’ you wor a Pckcmi o' the Wildherness.” says he. “ Ate a grid iron, says I, “ och, in troth I’m not sich a ganunoeh all out as that any how. But sure if we had a gri liron we codld dhress a beef steak, says I. “ Arrah! hut wlnu ’ s the beef-steak to dhress.” says lie. “ Sure, could’nt we cut a sb.ee off the pork,” savs I. “By gor I never thought of that,” says the captain. “ Your’re a clever It How, I addy, says he laughin. “Oh there’s many a thrue word said tnajoke, saysl. “ Thrue foi you, Paddy,” says he. “Well, WHO DE AO. 276.