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Edited by THONAS HAYNES. VOLUME Vll.— NUMB Eli 6. THE STANDARD Or UNION, BY I*, L. KOBINBOX. PUBLISHER (by authority) OF THE IAWS OF THE UNITED S TAILS. 03* TERMS.— Three Dollars per hhuuiiu No subscription taken fur lets than a yeni, ami no paper discontinued, but at the option ol the publisher, until all urrearui;cs are paid. CHANGE OF DIRECTION.—-We desire such of our subscribers aa may at any ime wish the direction oi their papers changed from one Post Office to another, to inform us. m nil cases, of the place to which they hftd been previously sent; as the mere ord *r to forward them to n different office, places it almost out of our pow er to comply, bee . we have no means of ascertaining the otlu e from which they are or dered to be changed, but by as« arch through our w hoje subscription book, containing several thousand names. AIH ERTISEMF.N reinsert'd at the usual rates. Sales of LAND, by Administrators, Executors, or Guardians, are required by law to hr field on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours ol ten in the forenoon and three in the afternoon, al the Court House in the coun ty in which the property is situate. Notice of hese sates must be gi ven in a public gazette SIXTY DAYS previous to the dav of sale. Sales oSNEGROES must be at public auction, on the first ’Tuesday of the month between the usual hours of sale, at the place of public aalea in the county where the letters testimentary,of Administration or Guardianship, may have been granted, first giving SIXTY DAYS no tice thereof, in one of the public gazettes of this State, and al the door of the Court House where such sales arc to be held. Notice for the sale of Personal Property must be given in like man ner, FORTTDAY S previous to the dav of sale. Notice to the Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must be published forty days. Notice that application will be made to die Court of Ordinary for leavetosell LAND, must be published for b'OUR MON THS. Notice for leave to sell NEGROES, must be published for FOUR MONTHS before any order absolute shall be made by the Court thereon. Notice ol Application for Letters of Administration must be publish ed THIRTY DAYS. Notice ot Application for Letters of I)ismis«ion from the Administra tion »f an Estate. are required to be published monthly for SIX MONTHS. NEW SONG.—BY T. MOORE. After a long pause, .Moore has reappeared in the character of poet and composer. The following song w ill show that his muse, if not as g r v and spirited as in days of yore, is as graceful and melodious : When to sad music silent you listen, And tears in those eyelids tremble like dew; O! there dwells in those eyes, as they glisten, A swoot holy charm that mirth never knew. But when some lively strain, resounding, Lights upon the sunshine of joy on that’brow; Oh! then, the young deer o'er the hills bounding, Was ne'er in its mirth so graceful us thou. When on the skies at midnight thou gazest, A light so divine thy features then wear, That, when to some planet thy bright eye thou raisest, We feel ’tis thy home thou art looking for there. But when the word for the gay dance is given, So buoyant thy spirit, so heartfelt thy mirth, Oh! then we say, ne’er leave earth for heaven, But linger still here to make heaven o( earth ’ AMUSING STORY OF JUDGE CRANE. A good many years ago, there lived in Dutchess county, New York, a gentleman by the name of Crane. He was very wealthy, and highly respected for his public and private virtues, especially for hi. charitableness to the poor ; but he always dressed in a plain garb, and would hardly ever wear any over coat, whatever the weather might be ; and it was seldom that he rode when he went abroad, although be owned many good horses. On the establishment of the Supreme Court, he was appointed Judge of one of the Circuits. On the morning of the day in which court was to begin, the Judge set out before day-break, and walked gently on through bail, rain, and snow, to the ap pointed place. On arriving at Poughkeepsie, cold and wet, he walked to a tavern, where he fouud the lady and servants were making large preparation for the judges and lawyers, and other gentlemen, whom they expected to attend the circuit court. The Judge was determined to have some sport, and in a pleasant tone addressed the landlady :—“ I have no money, and was obliged to come to court, and I have walked through this dreadful storm twenty miles—l am wet and cold, dry and hungry. I want something to eat before court begins.” .The landlady put herself in a majestic posture, am] with a look of contempt, said to the Judge :—“ You say you are wet and cold, dry and hot; how can all this be ?” “ No, my dear madam,” says the Judge, “ it was ■ wet and cohl, and if you had been out as long as I have been in the storm, I think that you would like wise be wet and cold. I said that I wanted something to drink and to eat.” “ But you have no money, yon say?” retorted the landlady. “ I told you the truth,” says the Judge—“ the whole truth, and nothing but the truth ; but were I as rich as Croesus, I would be w illing to work for some thing to eat and drink ; and were I as poor as Job, in his utmost calamities, and had my health and strength as I now have, I could willingly go to work a little while if I could only get a good bite of good vic tuals.” “ Well, old daddy,” says she, “ how much do you want to drink ?” “ Haifa gill of good brandy, ma’am,” says lit. “Very well,” said she; “I will give you half a gill, and some cold victual-: you cut and split three armsful of wood, and bring it into the kitchen, where the servants want to make a good fire to dry the gen tlemen’s overcoats when they come ; and after you get your victuals, I want you to go away.” *1 he Judge drank his brandy—went into the wood yard, and soon cut and laid by the kitchen fire, the re quired quantity of wood. Ihe landlady placed a cold luncheon before him, remarking that there it was. “ And it is almost as cold as myself,” said the Judge, “but not half so w et, for there is neither tea, coffee, nor chocolate to wet it.” “ Beggars must not be choosers,” said she. “ I am not begging of you, madam ; but have paid the full price demanded.” “ I told you, I would give you cold victuals ; and there is cold ham, cold pork and beef, and cold pota toes—and if you want any thing hot, there is mustard and pepper— and there is good bread, good butter, and cheese; and all good enough for such an old ragrriuffin as you are.” “ It is all very good,” said the Judge, pleasantly. ; “ but, madam, be so good a-, to let me have some new milk—warm, right from the cow—to wet this good ‘ victuals.” “ 1 he cows are not milked.” “ Then let me have bowl ( ,f cold m 11.” @ £ Stoihwo < m. “ I would not send the servants in the storm to the spring house, to skim it for you.” | “ Dear madam,” he replied, with a pleasant smile, ••I have a good wife at home, older than you are, who would go out in a worse storm than this, milk the cows, and bring the milk to the poorest man on earth I at his request ; or bring the milk from the spring house, cream ami all, to feed the most abject of the ' human race'.” \ ou I arc a good wife at home.” " ’ i le d 1 line, and she keeps my clothing clean j and .ml ; :>n I notwithstanding you call me an old ragmiilliu, 1 am not afraid to appear abroad in the clothes I wear, in any good company.” “ W ell, I must confess, that when you have your broad-brnned hat oil’, you look middling well; but I wish you io eat and be oil', for we want the fire to dry’ the genueii en’s greatcoats and umbrellas by, and among tin l rest, we expect Judge Crane.” J “ Judge (.'rune ! Who is Judge Crane ?” | “ The circuit judge ; one of the supreme judges, you old simpleton.” “ We 11, I’l.l let a goose that Judge Crane has not had, and will not have a greatcoat on his back, or an umbrella over his head to-day.” “ I care nothing for bets, eat and be off; I tell you Judge Crane is to be here, and we have no room for you.” “ I don’t <;are one rye-straw more for Judge Crane than I do for myself, and it has got to be so late, that if he has to come at this time of the day, he would be more likely to go to the court house, and stay until dinner. 1 know’ something about the old codger, and some people say he is a rusty, fusty, crusty old judge.” “ Pretty talk, indeed, about the supreme judge. Now eat and be oil’.” “ I tell you, Judge Crane is not the supreme judge, and if he w ere, he : s not more fit to be a judge than I | am.” “ Well, now be off with yourself.” “ Don’t be in so great a hurry ; I wish to knowwho is landlord here, and to know where he is ?” “ He is high sheriff of the county, and won’t be home till night; if he were here, you w’otild not stay long.” “ Well, madam, give me a cup of cider to wet my victuals, if yon won’t give me milk.” “ Not a drop.” The Judge, who had got pretty well warmed, and wished for bis breakfast, now put on a stern counten ance, and positively declared that he would not leave the room, and fire till he pleased. “ But,” added he, “ if you w.ll grant my request, I will eat and be off.” The cider was immediately brought, and the Judge partook heartily of the collation before him. He then took his broad-brimmed hat, and quietly walked into the court house, where he found good fires and clean floor, and din ing court hours, he presided with dignity and propriety. When the Judge withdrew, the landlady anxiously looked for him some time, supposing him to be some poor man, summoned up to court as a witness, or some culprit, who might give her further trouble, and expressed to her servants a desire that they would see that he did not disturb the gentlemen and judges that might put up there. To this some of the girls answered, that if he came they would turn upon him some of the expressions which be used respecting Judge Crane. “ Let me see,” says one, “ rusty crusty, ” “ Yes, and fusty, and judge,” says another. M hen the court was adjourned, the day being stormy and cold, the Judge and lawyers poured into the sheriff s tavern, where they were sure of good fires, and also of good fare. Judge Crane went into a store and purchased a valuable shawl, and put it into his pocket on the in side of his coat, and walked slowly to the tavern. While he w as thus detained, the landlady entered the dining-room, and inquired if Judge Crane had come; but the answer was, “ Not yet, madam, and perhaps he may not come.” The landlady, who was anxious to pay the highest respect to the supreme judge, retired then to the kit* hen, not a little disappointed. In the mean time, the judge arrived, and being very sociable, and at all .times loud of cheering the minds of those present, be began to tell some lively anecdotes which set the whole company in a roar of laughter. At this in-tant, one ofthe waiting maids entered the room i infoim the gentlemen tl at they might sit down to dinner. She did her errand, and hastened back to her mistress with the tidings, that the old fusty fellow with bis broad-brimmed hat on, was right among the bare-headed gentlemen, talking as loud as be could, I and ail t;:< judges and lawyers were laughing at him. “Then go,” said she, “ and whisper to the old man, th.it 1 w ish him to come into the kitchen.” Th- errand was done accordingly, and the judge, in a low voice, said to the girl, “ 1 ell your mistress I have a little business to do with these lawyers, and when that is done, I’ll be off in the cours ■ ol two or three days.” “ V. Batty, says the mistress, “goback and stand by th- head of the table, and when the gentle men begin t i sit down, do you whisper to some of them, that I wih a vacant place at the head of the table for Judge Crime, and do you hasten back and see that John has the cider and other good things in good order.” Betty again repaired to her post, at the head of the table, and -oftly informed a gentleman ofthe request of her mistress. “ Certainly,” said the gentleman; and Betty has tened back to assist John. The getnleman now set down to an excellent re past, and after a short address to the Throne of Grace, delivered by Judge Crane,the company carved and served round in the usual form. But as the Judge wft of a singular turn in almost every thing, and had taken a fancy, that if a person eats light food, and that which is more solid, at the same nu al, die light food, should be eaten first; he therefore filled Ins plate with some pudding made of milk, rice and eggs, and placing his elbow on the ta ble, ami his head near the plate, began to eat accord ing to tiis cii-toin, which was very fast, although he was not a great eater. Borneol th:- ..tlctnen near the Judge, followed OUR CONSCIENC E —O V R COU NT R Y—O U R PAIt TY. MILLEDGEVILLE, GEORGIA, TUESDAY MORNING, MARCH 3, 1810. his example as to taking the pudding before the meat. I A large, deep vessel, which contained that article, was nearly emptied, when Mary approached with two additional tureens of gravy, accoiding to the com mand of her mistress, as she sat down the last near the Judge, he says to her in an austere manner. 4 Girl, bring me a clean plate to eat some sallad on.’ The abrupt manner in which he addressed her so disconcerted the poor girl, that she did not observe that any one excepting the Judge bad partaken es the pudding, nor did she know what he meant by sallad, but she observed that the large pudding pan was emp ty, and then hastened back with the utmost speed to her mistress and addressed her thus: ‘Oh, madam, that old fellow’s there yet, and he is certainly’ crazy or drunk, for he is down at the table, and has eaten more than a skippie of the rice pudding already, and he told me, as if he was lord of the ma nor, to bring him a clean plate to eat sallad. Bless me where can he get sallad this time of the year. And the gentlemen have not done carving, and not one has begun to eat meat yet, dare say: Oh, I’ll clear him out,’ said the mistress, and she started for the di ning room. I he Judge was remarkable for not giving unne cessary trouble to any body where he put up, and generallyate whatever was set before him, without making any remarks, and seldom made use of more than one plate at a meal; but at this time he observed near him a beautiful dish of raw white cabbage, which the Low Dutch at Poughkeepsie called cold slaw , and which be called sallad, and he wished for a sepa rate plate to prepare some of it to his own taste. The carving and serving of the meat was not fin ished, when he expected a clean plate, ami when the landlady arrived at the door and fixed her keen eyes on the Judge he, turning his eyes that way and ob serving her, mildly said, ‘ Landlady, can 1 have a clean plate to eat some sallad on ?’ ‘A clean plate and sallad !’ retorted the landlady indignantly. ‘I wish you would come into the kitch en until the gentlemen have dined; I had reserved that seat for Judge Crane.’ The company were struck with astonishment and fixing their eyes alternately on the landlady and the Judge, sat or stood in mute suspense, when the Judge replied: ‘ You reserved this seat for Judge Crane did you, landlady ?’ ‘lndeed I did,’ says she. ‘ It-was very kind,’ be then answered, ‘but if you will step to the door and see if be is coining, or send i one of the servants to call him, with your permission ; and the approbation of these gentlemen, with whom I , have some business to do, I will occupy this seat till ( you have found the Judge.’ ‘Lind the Judge!’ said she with emphasis; ‘go look for him yourself, not send me nor my servants. I gave you your breakfast this morning for chopping a little wood, because you said you had no money, and 1 expected you would go away; and now you must come here to disturb the gentlemen at dinner.’ Here the whole joke burst upon the minds ofthe persons present, who fell into a loud fit of laughter. After the tumult had a little subsided, the Judge mild ly asked, ‘Did I chop wood to pay for my breakfast?’ ‘lndeed you did,’ said she, ‘and said you had no money. ‘I told the truth,’ replied the Judge, ‘but I have a shawl here, worth more than ten dollars, which I will leave in pawn, if you will only let me eat my dinner with these gentlemen.’ Here the gentlemen were bi ting their lips to keep from laughter. ‘How did you buy a shawl worth more than ten dollars, without money?! said she. ‘And where did you find credit to that amount.''’ said she. ‘I brought it from home,’ said he. ‘ That’s a likely story, and something like your abuse of Judge Crane, this morning,’ said she. ‘How could I abuse the Judge if he was not pres ent?’ ‘ Why,’ replied she, you called him rusty, fusty, fudge, and old codger, and said you did not care a rye-straw more for him than you did for yourself.’ Here the whole company were in an uproar again. But as soon as it had a lit: le subsided, one of the gen tlemen asked the lady how she knew the genlLineii she was addressing was not Judge Crane? ‘He looks more like a snipe than a crane?’ Here the laughter burst forth a third time. After a little pause, the Judge said ‘I must confess I am not a bird of fine feathers, but 1 am a C;ane, and a crane is often a very useful instrument; I saw a very good one in your kitchen this morning.’ Before she had time to reply, some gentleman, with whom she was.acquainted, assured her that she was talking with the presiding Judge. Astonished and confused, she attempted some excuse, and hastily ask ed his pardon for her rudeness. The Judge had by this time, unobserved taken the shawl from his pocket, and with a subdued smile, ad vanced a few steps towards the landlady, saying, ‘lt is out of my province to pardon, but it is my business to judge; I therefore decree that you will, without hesitation, receive this shawl as a present.’ So saying, he gently laid it over her shoulders add ing, ‘take it madam, and do not attempt to return it, for it was purchased on purpose for you.’ She hast ily retired, in confusion, hardly knowing what she i did, but taking the shawl with her of course, bearing I no malice towards the Judge. And there were three parties who had each two things. The landlady had a good lesson to meditate ' upon, which was this—not to be too hasty in judging | ill of a person from » rough outside; the gentlemen had a good dinner, and a joke to laugh over; and the Judge had good intentions in the joke, and ability to follow up the lesson given. It is remarked by some writer, that “excess of cer emony shows want of good breeding.” This is true. There is nothing so troublesome as overdone polite ness; it is worse than an overdone beefsteak. A tru ly well bred man will make every one aiound him feel at ease; he does not throw civilities about him with a shovel, nor toss compliments in a bundle, as he would hay, with a pitchfork. . There is no evil under the ' sun more intolerable than ultra politeness. Give the passion for politeness a “ coolness.” til: spectre mask. A 'I’ALE or THE LAKE OF COMO. , It was a still and cloudless night—not a breath stir red the leaves on the huge trees that surrounded the great villa ofthe Count Minuotti, on the Lake of Co mo, when two figures were seen to emerge from a pri i vate door that It d into the garden surrounding the house, and descend the stone steps to a little boat, in the stern ol' which sat a figure muffled in a large coarse cloak. Perceiving iheir approach, the man who occupied the boat immediately arose and assisted lite cavalier and his companion, a female of stately form and features of great beauty, to descend, which they did in silence, and entered the boat, which was i immediately pushed oil’. There was rfo moon to add I beauty and effect to the scene, but the heavens were studed with stars, and the clear blue lake reflected their more intensely blue ray-, whilst t'fe lights from the wiudows ot the different dwellings that skirted the shores, were relh-cted in long lines of gold, and the distant bar!, of the w.itch-dogs alone broke the still ness of tiiglit. Not a word was spoken by either par ty, ntnil the boat reached tl.e middle of the lake, when the lady laving her small white hand on the shoulder of the cavalier, and looked earnestly in his lace for some minutes. “Dearest Viceuzo,” said she,. “why so moody and thoughtful? Yon evening star shines as brightly as on that night you wooed and won my poor heart; but she continued mournfully, “you are changed, aye, clianged—and now scarcely vouchsafe a word.” “les,” replied he who was thus addressed, as she cast from his shoulders the < loak in which lie was muffled. “I have words for thine ear to-night which tnay not be pleasing—Marian i, thou hast out-lived my love.—Hast thou no prayer ready? for here I shall absolve myself from the vow my folly made thee.” The lady Aared wildly at her husband, for he was no 1 ss, and then attempted to clasp him round the neck. “D- ar, dear lord,” she said in supplicating accents, |“«bat dreadful deed dost thou meditate! Think, oh, in mercy think what yon would do! Have I of fended ? Have I said or done any thing to ” “Peace!” muttered her stern and cruel partner, forcibly removing ber-a*ms—-“peace; I say, and pray for thy soul, for thou hast'not ten rnitftties to live!” I he lady fell on her knees before her merciless lord, anil in a frantic manner besought him to have pity, but the fiend had steeled his heart, and he harsh ily baile her to prepare for death; when the.tone of I his victim suddenly changed, and no longer a suppli t ant, she vehemently upbraided him for his cruelly. “Viceuzo!” said she, as her dark eye flashed wrath- I fully, “1 am itt thy power, but my friendswill avenge me! 1 ask the not for life, for 1 know thy purpose is deadly; but dread the vengeance of my family, who will demand me at thy bauds.” The count d> Igned no other reply than a low and i inarticulate malediction ; made a sign to his attcud j ant, who immediately rising, seized the lady by the arms. “Hurl her into (he lake, Jocopo,” said Minotti ; and the words had scarcely passed his lips, when their victim was forced in spite of her struggles, over the side oi the boat, fell with a faint shriek and a heavy splash into the water; but she almost immediately rose to the surface, and the count seizing an oar, en deavored io stun her by a blow on the head. The stroke w as id-directed, and m:ss< d the countess, who, seizing the oar with both hands, supported herself, and thus addre sed her erm I hu.-band; icenzo ,'liimtti, thy days are numbered. God shall judge you for this deed ; 1 summon you to ap pear before his tribunal ere the moon is out!” Iler husband instantly directed bis attention to re turn to his villa. Remorse never touched the breast ot .Minotti, who was as subtle as he was revengeful and cruel, and he soon spread it abroad that his wife had I eloped from him, and the tale was believed, for he had previously circulated stories of her infidelity. Three weeks and more had passed, when a noble- ; nnn on tl.e opposite si le of ihe 1 ike gave a splendid lete, to wbich many were invited, and among the rest j the count iMiuotti was the gayest of the gay thronti. During the evening lie had attentively regarded a lady of exquisite beauty, and he now cnde’avored to enter into conversation with the object of his ttdmira lion; but tne lady was coy, and replied to all the fond tiling . he addressed to her with provoking’ coldness, and .‘lmoiti more than once felt his wrath almost mas ter order. Il he handed the beautiful mask an ice, she modestly excused herself, and the count in vain beggi (1 that she would part ike of some slight refresh ment, without which she could not possibly support life through the evening. S >me were brilliantly illu minated by i.mumerabie lamps, that mocked the stars above them, and dance and sprightly' conversation were not lacking. “Dearest lady,” said he, “excuse a little gentle force, airi let me remove that envious vizor from your lovely face.” Im companion made no icply, ami Minotti, con struing her silence as mi as-cut, playfully, raised the mask from the lady’s face—but, oh horror! what did he beheld the p ile countenance of his murdered wife, who regarded him with a look so fearful that his very blood was chilled and his knees bent under him. ‘ \ icenzo said the spectre, laying her cold clam my hand on his, ami looking him earnestly in the lace, “behold thy wife!” 1 he coinit heard no more, he recoiled from the ap parition, mid w ith a gasp ii ii senseless to the ground. He was discovered by some of the comp any in a death-like slate, from w hich, though attended by the I most skillful physicians, he did not recover his senses until morning, when he begged those who attended him to send for a confessor, to whom he unfolded . wlmt had occurred—but the remembrance of the scenes in which he had been an actor, operated so strongly on his shattered nerves that fit after fit suc ceeded, and that ere the evening bell had rung, the guilty soul ol Vice zo Minotti had fled forever. So liir goes common rumor; but the sisterhood of a neighboring com ent knew the sequel of the story, xhe w ilc whom her law less husband would have be- i (rayed to death, was not permitted by Providence thus to perish. Bouyed up by her clothing, and assisted by the oar, n hich by the trepidation ol those who in tended her murder was left in her possession, she ; I’. 1.. ItOBIYSOIV, Proprietor. WHOLE NUMBER 318. floated a long hour, a living death, upon the bosom, of the deep, still lake. • ■ The barge ofthe nobleman at whose villa the fete • took place, rescued the lady as her strength was just ■ exhausted, and the rest the reader knows. It only re •l mains to state that the lady, shocked wjth the world, ■ betook herself to the seclusion of a convent; and it ■ was not thought advisable to disabuse the minds of the peasants ofthe idea of a supernatural visitation for so horrible a crime. Her rescue and subsequent residence were therefore carefully concealed. THE MARRIED MAN’S EYE, AND THF MARRIED WOMAN’S TONGUE.—A good deal has been said in the papers lately about the power of a husband’s eye. It is all stuff. After two or three experimeiits the eye of the married man loses its power. Two or three white squalls teach a sailor ta despise a gale of wind. The glaring, deep-set, blood shot eye that sparkles with anger and determination, cannot be set at nought; but it is to be seen. In or i dinaty cases the eye is nothing more or less than a token of displeasure, and for that the wife cares very little. Born for her use, the husband lives but to serve her. She swears at the altar to love, honor,and obey ; but it is the husband who fulfils the conditions of her oath. His eye is nothing to her tongue his judgment is nothing to her caprice—his resolution es says in vain to resist her importunity. Her weakness is her strength—her tongue is her two-edged sword, which cannot be parried. Whenever it touches, in anger, it raises a blister. It discourses most eloquent nonsense, and the enamoured hearer thinks he is lis tening to Plato and Aristotle. It delivers the most outrageous lies, and the husband forthwith distrusts, nay, rejects the evidence of his own senses. At noon she tells the good man that it is midnight, and forth with lie begins to see the moon ami stars There are some instances, indeed, where the busband is master of his own house; but when this occurs it may confi dently be assumed that lie is either a brute or a philo sopher. Who is there that knows not the power of a female tongue. It drives the husband out of doors and then icproaches him for his absence.—lt empties his purse and complains of extravagance. It involves him in quarrels with his whole neighborhood and wonders how he can be so pettilent. It professes to be hum ble, but never yields. Above all, it carries all dispu ted points by iteration. Foiled, baffled, it returns to the attack again and again. Tears, groans, the remonstrances of friends aie brought in as th® auxiliaries. Days, wc-eks, months, of deuial pass; but the fly is in the spider’s web and must succumb. He y ields at last, and the tongue carries the point, not by reason, but sheer tor ment, and he gets no credit by his submission. ‘No, no,’ is no match for ‘do, do!’ The married man’s eye can be seen only by day or candle light—the married woman’s tongue can be beard best at mirk midnight, and it is as irresistable as the battering ram of Titus. Little strokes fell great oaks a per- petual drepping wears the marble. There never was a man worthy ofthe name who could resist the oppor tunity’ of a woman he loved. There never was a wo man who could not persuade a man who loved her to substitute hei’ will for his own judgment.— N. Y. Ah las. ow the silly- editor of the New York Allas, is to be pitied. “ A woman’s tongue makes not half the noise that docs a chesnut in a farmer’s fire.” Who, ofthe masculine gender, does not feel degraded at an asse.tion that they cannot easily control a woman’s tongue ? Why, a little dissembling small talk falls like oil upon the troubled waters. Pooh! Ladies certainly never get mad with their husbands. We do not believe a word of such charges—and our expe rience has brought around us several litlle resvonsibh lilies! r CLERIC AL BON MOT.—A reverend doctor was lately travelling from London to Bath, in the mail coach ; it so fell out that be and a lady were the only persons occupying the interior of the vehicle. He, therefore, essayed to draw the lady out in the way of conversation but to no effect; so he resigned him self to the embraces of Morpheus, which example die lady shortly thereafter followed. Subsequently the mail coach halted at the lady’s residence; footmen were in attendance to baud her ladyship from the car riage, which attendance the lady was in the act of re ceiving, when the reverend doctor facetiously re marked : —“ Why. madam, we must not part without shaking hands, as ’tis probably the last time we may sleep together;” which the lady, highly amused, as sented to by’ a cordial pressure ofthe hand. A BACHELOR’S NOTION.—The Editor of the Boston Transcript, who has no wife, and it is said never will have, says, “ if young ladies noiv-a-days did not become women at thirteen, men would have better wives.” A LARGE FAMILY. —Mr. Thomas Nelson, and his worthy wife, of Lower Annamassen, Somer set county, Maryland, are the living ancestors of nearly, if not more than one hundred industrious and thriving descendants ; and what is more remarkable the whole oi this prosperous progeny are happily set tled within the sound of their sire’s, grandsire’s, or great grandsire’s voice. His voice, is, however, stentorian, and he is yet vigorous and active in mind and body, and has some twenty or more captains iu his family’. The following scene occurred iu the office of a country justice. A boy brought forward as a wit ness ofthe ill treatment of his master. Justice. Do you swear or affirm ? Boy. Swear ! Justice. Did you ever sw’ear? Boy. Oh yes, many’ a time.. Justice. Then you may swear. Boy. [Seizing the book and kissing.] I will be tetotally d d if boss did’nt w hip me with a bridle. Justice. Ahem, ahem. Witness can retire. “ A sensible wife looks for her enjoyment al borne; a silly one abroad.” How is it with husbands ?