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Cuthbert reporter. (Cuthbert, Ga.) 1856-????, August 16, 1856, Image 1

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tt, F. WHITE & CO., Proprietor^. tS PUBLISH. “VKuV oAiStRDAY BY B • F. WHITE & CO. Terms of Subscription The Cuthbert Reporter is published at TWO DOL- JjARS per annum, in advance; One Hollar lor Six and Sixty Colts for Three Months. in no case will an order for tin* paper be attend ed to ftniess accompanied with the money, Or a satisfac 'soiy reference Fates of Advertising. General Advertisements will he inserted at SI per f square of I*2 lines or less, for the first insertion, and J >fiy rents for each subsequent insertion Professional Cards, not exceeding ten lines, Will be *nsrttd at B*o a year. __ Announcement of candidates for office $. r >, lobe paid in advance Marriages and Deaths inserted gratuitously. Obituary Notices and Tributes of Respect, charg ed as advertisements, when they exceed ten I ties. Articles and signed to promote private or individual in Tfo-sts, or of a personal character, will be charged os advertisements. Regulations of the Reporter. T.otters ami cnniiiiu.icallnn. rnntaining news from alt quarters are respectfully soli.itrd. No letterurla.mmuMiration will beinscried unless the name of the anther aeeeui|iauies it. AII i miiinunrcntions must tie written on out aide only of the paper, to insure insertion. Legal Advertisements. Sales nf Lands and Negroes hy Administra tors, Kxecntors or Guardians, are required by law to be held un th first Tuesday in the inontb, lieiween the hours of ten in the forenoon, .and three in the .afternoon, at the Court House in the county in winch the property is situated. Notices of these sales must be given in a pub lic gazette forty days previous to sale day. Notices lor the sale of personal property must 1) -iveo in liko manner ten days previous to K‘ia day. Notices to debtors and creditors of an estate st be published forty days, t'ottte that application will be made to the art of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne . ..,es, must he published for two months Citations for Letters of Administration, Guar dianship. &c . must lie published thirty (toys — Dismissi .n from Admmi.Mration, mo tlilv, months —for Dismission front Guardianship, * iv and iys. Liles for foreclosure of Mortgage most he bibbed monthly lor lour months; foreslahlish lost papers, for the full space of three I Souths; for compelling titles from Executors * o- Administrators, where hood has been given i the deceased, to be published the full space ■of three months. tjumovous. An Inaugural Speech. — The South 'll Literary Mes-enger gives tin- speech a Warden of a prison or penitentiary the District of Columbia, who invited s friends to witness his installation into nee. The prisoners having been drawn in a line, ihe new Warden delivered niself thus : “ Gentlemen! —licm ! No,” said he, [“you’re not gentlemen Fellow citizens! lietn —Convicts! I have just been up I int"d by the l’rcs dent of these United States, “union of this penitentiary. Now lAvt ish to say to yon, that it is my design fio tiave everything conducted here in the imost orderly manner, and l would like J.OU to distinctly understand that the first \iscal of you that makes a fuss shall be I - ,! eked out oj the establishment — he shan't I toy here at all.” Y A young buck of the soap-lock order, Jrlio wore an unshaven lip, because, as lie said, it “ looked foreign,” lately ac jsted a'Yankee as follows: - “ I say, fellow, some iudiwiduals think II am a Frenchman, and some take me for n Etulyeuu—now, what do you think I .m ?” “ I think yon arc a darned fool!” rc ’’ed Jonathan. “Pat, you have Elated your letter a Lk ahead. It is not so late in the litli by one week, you spalpeen ” •• Troth, boy, iiulade an’ it’s jist mesilf ‘at is wanting swate Kathleen to get it mvance of the mail Sliure I’ll not care lie gets it three days afore it’s written, .darliut.” Would .you like to subscribe for Dick- I Household Words ?” inquired a soin [ ■ magazine agent. ! 1“ Household words have played the skcus with me long enough !” was the ■ling reply. The agent absconded. * Well Annie, how did you get along that stupid fool of a lover of yours ? f y<su succeed in getting rid of him?” jh, yes, 1 got rid of him very easily. arried him, and have no lover now.” y “—■■■ 1 1 - ■ ■■ , barber desired a groggery customer 3, one Sunday morning, who smelled r’ ig of alcohol, to keep his mouth shut, ; be establishment would get indicted seeping a rum hole open on Sunday. uc Yankees assert that all their chil \ are born geniuses, and to verify this, • say that when a baby is not deeping eating, it is rolling its eyes about king bow to improve its cradle. le horse ‘warranted to stand without L <■,’ which a man bought at auction, is f jd for sale by the purchaser, with the anty that ‘ he will not move without |j ping-’ fcodigal.s are persons who never learn ifferencc between a sovereign and a ** pence until they want the latter. CUTHBERT REPORTER. V <% •> vis. iToln the Boston Olivo Branch. Nellie Cliftou. “ Don’t cry, Nellie, don’t! You sltall not be Frank Gray’s wife; and he is a bad boy to say sol’’ said the indignant child, as he drew the little girl’s hand within his own, and led her away. “ No, Eddy, 1 will not be his wife, I will be yours 1” replied the child, earnest ly* “So you shal., Nellie, so you shall; and 1 will love you, oh , so much;’’ added the boy, as he threw his arms about her, giving her a warm, childish kiss. “ But do you know, Eddy,” continued the little girl, “ that he says I must not love you, because your papa is poor, and does not keep a carriage, and does not have everything, as his papa does? But I do not care for that, Eddy, for he is a bad boy and you are good. And Ido not care if your papa is not rich. He is a good papa, and you lore him, so I will love him, to ; *.” “ Yes, Neilie, he is a good papa,” said the boy, thoughtfully. “ But may be your folks would not like him; for lie is not rich like them, nor Mr. Gray. And maybe they will not love me, either. — Did you ever ask them, Nellie ?” “ No,” answered Nellie, “ X never ask ed them; but l know they will, for they love all that I do, always. So do not look so sad, Eddy,” and she kissed away his quick falling tears; “when I grow up, and you are a man, 1 will ask them, and they will let me be your wife, 1 know they will.” Poor child! she had yet a lesson to learn. ****** “ Yes, Nellie, I shall sail to-morrow,” said the young man, gazing tenderly up on the little, trembling hand which he held within his own. “I cannot be idle in tins great business of life. Besides,” added lie, sadly, “ I am poor; and the poor fare hardly, 1 must be rich, Nellie; 1 must have a position in the world; I must win you. With this object in view, labor will be sweet. Only promise me that you will not forget me—that you will think tenderly of me, and pray for me in my absence, and 1 go willingly.” The young man spoke softly but earn estly to the gentle girl-beside him. An swer he needed none, for her head fell up on his bosom, and tears spoke what words might not utter Yes, go now, Edward Tlcrrey, for she has promised there, in the calm twilight hour, and in the presence of the sainted ileiul, sleeping quietly in the churchyard, to be yours —yours forecer. Go now, with a strong, manly heart in your bo som ; for Nellie Cliftou remembers her vow. ****** “And I am once more at home, Nellie, once more with you 1” and the tears, which had scarce moistened his eyes for a twelvemonth of his absence, now fell lrcely, in his great joy. “And I am so glad you have come, Edward —so glad; for I have sorely been tried in your absence—sorely tried.” “ V\ hat? tell me what, Nellie, that my arm may protect you,”. said the strong man. “Trouble shall not come to one like you. Let me defend you.” “ Frank Gray has sought me for his wife, Edward, even as in our childish days he so often told me he would do. He has followed me and importuned me till* I am wearied; wearied almost past endur ance But 1 will never be his wife, nev er, never!” and her voice was firm, and her eye flashed earnestly as she said it. “ 1 hank you, Nellie, my own dear Nel lie!” said the young man, warmly embra cing her. “Even as you promised in childhood, you shall be mine, all mine.— Oh, Nellie, what joy will be ours! But,” asked he, after a moment’s pause, “ does your father know aught of his proposals? If lie did, would he not urge you to accept them? Frank Gray is rich ; l am but a poor sailor,” and his voice faltered. “My father knows nothing,” answered Nellie. “ But if lie did, could he bid me wed one whom Ido not love? Could he bid me give my hand to one when my heart is with another? Oh, no, Edward, he could not do it—he would not! And yet he so values wealth—if—” and tears revealed what she dared not utter. Poor Nellie! Life’s lessons come slowly. * * * * * * “Once more I leave you, Nellie, dear. But soon I shall have a position in the world, and claim you as my own. This voyage I go as mate; the next, I hope, as captain, Oh, Nellie, I rejoice in this, because it will so soon give you to me!” and the young man, who had a moment before stood proud and erect in the thought of his promotion, now bent low to kiss the face that leaned so lovingly on his breast. “ But ere I go, Nellie, promise me once more that you will be mine— only mine! On this Bible swear it!” continued he, earnestly, taking a small volume from his pocket. “It was the gift of my dying mother, and has nev er left me. lu all my jourucyings it has NO PROSCRIPTION FOR OPINIONS’ SAKE. IIIIEUT, GA., AUGUST 16, IS.IG. ‘t and a solace. Upon this ‘enew oiir vows, ’while her s l m ” >ver and blesses us.” Aga Wt.j the vows uttered. Again the paituigwords were spoken; but with hearts full of love aud hope, they looked Jot ward to the luture, and it gave them peace. Noiily the gallant ship speeds on her course. Proudly Edward Hcrvey paces her deck. Soon, oh, soon, he will be her master, and Nellie Clifton his wife.— i his thought cheers him by night and by day in tire calm andiu the storm. God help thee, proud dreamer! Thou too art learning life’s stern lessons. ****** “ Oh, Nellie, say that it is false—that you are not his wife—that—” “But, Edward, I am his wife—his wife; and you must leave me. Duty to my husband demands it. Go!” And lie did go, he eared not whither. Ambition, energy, hope, love, nil had died out within him. He resigned his office of captain, and took passage for a distant land. To all on board he was a stran ger, and none knew the grief that was fast wearing out his life. lie was reck less of this, of health, and of everything; and ere the voyage was ended, fell ill and died. At his own request, they buried him at sea, though within a few days of land. He felt there was more room more room for his poor, bleeding heart to bury its woes. Ask you why Nellie was false to her tw ? It was the old story. Wealth triumphed. Her father bade her forget the poor sailor, and wed the wealthy suit or In time, too, the splendor dazzled her; and ere the three years of Edward’s absence had expired, she became a wil ling bride. True, she did not love Frank Cray, but his wealth would atone for all. Besides this, her father bade her wed him, and when did she ever disobey him ? Not then, not then. And Nellie Clifton became Sirs Gray. ” e will not ask her future. But too well may we know it; for such tragedies are daily taking place among us. All ti e smiles we see are not real; all the seem lug happiness not of the heart. Oh! woman, woman! when wilt thou be true to thyself, and through thyself to all whom thou meetest in thy life pil grimage ? Profane Swearing.— The Christian Advocate, published at Buffalo, reads the following homily on profane swearing, .vhich may not be read unprofitably in this latitude—no, nor in any other. “ Profane swearing is an indulgence of so base a passion, and so unbecoming, so undignified and grovelling, that we are surprised that the man who attaches the least respectability to himself will practice it. It is unmeaning and insensible. ‘I he man who damns himself and fellow being a hundred times a day, does not mean a word of what he says. If he did, he would be considered a fool or a heartless vidian, A gentleman in town, and one who moves in respectable society among us, aud who possesses fine in tell actual attain ments, the other day lowered the dignity of his being by a glibness in profane swearing, which We thought would be*- cornea lower order of mind than him self. If men will swear, let it done by those who have no affinities with the re spectable, moral, and decent in society. The father swear before his children, the husband swear before his wife, the gentleman swear in the presence of the lades! We never saw a gentleman that would swear at all 1 There are those who swear, nevertheless.” An Unfortunate Rooster.— There arc objections to Shanghais, no doubt, but we had never thought of this, which we copy from the Knickerbockers Mr. S —, an old resident In Stillwa ter, on the upper Hudson, introduced among his family of hens a few Shang hais, including a rooster of formidable dimensions, who had “run to legs” a good deal. His crow was peculiar, and easily distinguished from the other cocks. One morniug he had waited to hear a repeti tion of the usual summons, after being aroused by the “ shrill clarion” olice sounded, but he heard it not again. The pre-eminent chanticleer was still. Mr. S. went out to see what caused the si lence. He found the rooster lying on his back with both legs out of joint. After an examination, he set both legs; the cock walked off and gave vent to his sat isfaction in a lusty crow. In the very act he dropped as if he had been shot.— He had crowed his 4 legs out of joint again! He was kept three or four days and then killed. “It was too much trou ble,” said Mr S, “to set him up every time he crowed.” An Old Bachelor’s Toast.— “ Our fu ture wives—Distance lends enchantment to the view.” An Old Maid’s Toast.— “ Our future marriages—Consummations devoutly to be wished for,” ittisccllancous. Terrific Jtnlloou Ascension. “ You are about to witness Monsieur G.’s ascension,” said a gentleman to me, as I entered the enclosure devoted to the aeronautic disylay. He was an entire stranger to me ; but not being supersti tious in matters of etiquette, as we might suppose “a gentleman of distinction” to be, I did not object to this brusque mode of introduction, and so civilly answered, “Yes.” “ But I shall go farther to see it than you will,” continued the gentleman. “I intend to ascend with Mono. U.” “ Ybu may go farther and fare worse,” said I. “ You are pleased to be witty,” said lie ; “ but I intend to make some exami nations of those tipper regions for my self—to -ascertain whether the stars ce lestial are on dtity during the day, or whether theirs is ks much a sinecure as the office of our “stars” terrestial.— Would you like td ttsccud with lis ?” “ No, thank yon kindly,” said I. “In getting into the clouds one might lose oneself—the Way is likely to be mist Every one to his taste; the earth has such charms for mo that 1 would not ex change a spadeful Os it for cubic miles of the blue empyrean. lam no poet.” Vain declaration ! How little did I imagine the horrors which awaited me! How little did 1 foresee my dreadful fate in hanging between the heavens and the earth, a spectacle to laughing men, gig gling women,and insensate, hooting boys! We entered the enclosure. There was the vast silken bubble, puffing otU its hollow cheeks like the face of a fat clown when laughing, and rising and tugging away at the ropes, as if impatient to IcuVj our society. “Von will accompany me?” said my friend; to which 1 replied in the negative. “ Perhaps the gentleman would assist in cutting the ropes,” said the aronaut, in French, Which, singularly enough, 1 understood at that moment, though I ne vet‘ before or since ventured to exhibit my knowledge. “ Certainly, with pleasure,” said I. “Thank you,” said the airouuut; “ bP pleased to take your station ” lie and my fricmd entered the ear. T grasped one of the ropes and awaited the order. In a moment it came. “ Cut!” said one voice. “ No, hold on! ’ said another. I was bewildered, and did both. When the others cut I did the same, and with the direction to hold on, I grasped the end of the rope still near me and “ held on.” In a, moment more 1 was fifty feet from lie ground! Imagine my suspense. There was I, like a freshly caught fish, dangling at the end of a line, with the balloon represent ing the float. 1 cried out to my friend and the aeronaut, but in vain. The spec tators below, thinking I was some serial acrobat, who was about to turn fifty dou ble somersets and then alight upon his feet before them, cheered sufficiently to drown my voice. The parties in the car could not see me—but by the hat which swung occasionally over the side, 1 knew they were bowing to the crowd below. Mean while, 1 was swinging like a pendulum below them, with only ten fingers to sus tain the weight of one hundred and eigh ty pounds, (I am father stout) and to preserve me from being thinly spiead over the ground beneath, from “ larding the lean earth” with my human form divine What an age of terror! The dome of St Paul’s became a parasol; men became nine-pins} and line gothic churches began to look like chicken coops In the meantime roy fingers were stif fened, but I clutched the rope with an energy of despair. I had long ceased calling; 1 had exhausted myself. Sud denly a cold perspiration broke out upon me; I knew my hour had come. My fin gers were slowly slipping down the rope. Oh, those apf-nizing moments! Inch by inch I approached my doom! First the left hand lost its hold; and then I felt the end slipping by the little finger of the right, 1 gave one brief prayer, and sell— out of bed! Being, as I before observed, a corpu lent man, my fall had shaken the whole house, and the alarmed inmates, aroused from “sweet slumbers,” were knocking violently at the door, which had the effect of restoring me to consciousness, when I discovered that my “ terrible balloon as cent’ was nothing more than a nightmare, superinduced, 1 am led to believe, by the festivities usual on the Fourth of July; and allow me to tell you, dear reader, that such a shanghai dinner as we hud an this occasion, is not to be sneezed at. What makes a youi g man and woman fall in love?” “ Because one of ’em has a heart of steel, and t’other has a heart of flint: and when they come to. gather, they strike fire, and that is love.’’ Some slanderer asserts that paper ma kers are the greatest magidaus of the age, inasmuch as they transfer beggars’ rags into sheets for editors to lie on. A YaiiKec Shoemaker. ‘ You haiu’t no occasion for a jour nor nothin’, 1 spose,’ said a jolly sou of St. Crispih from tire land of Vvoodeu nutmegs, as lie entered a shoe establishment with his kit nicely done up in his apron. 1 Wonder if I huin’t* was the reply of the boss. ‘Why, 1 should like a dozen it I could get ’em ; hut What kind of a shoe can you make ?’ ‘On, as to the matter o’ that,’ said the snob, 1 1 reckon ns hoW I can make a de cent, sort of a craft.’ ‘ Spread your kit, then,’ said the boss; ‘l’ll give you a pair to try, and if your work suits me, I enn give yon a steady seat of work.’ Crispin Was soon hammering aud whist ling away, as happy as a clam at high water, and the boss was called away on some business which detained him two or three hours* rrtealiwliilc, the jour had pro duced a thing which bore some .faint re semblance to a shoo, and feeling somewhat ashamed of it, hid it in a pile of leather chips that lay on the floor, and proceeded to make another, which he had barely time to finish, when his employer entered and began to examine it. ‘ Look here, mister,’ said he, ‘I guess you needn’t make the mate to this; it is the greatest botch that was ever made in my shop, that’s a fact.’ ‘ P’raps you’d like to bet a trifle on that,’ said the snob. ‘Bet!’ responded tlic boss; ‘why, I’ll bet a ten dollar bill against a hand of to bacco, that those never was a shoe made in this shop half so bad as this.’ ‘ Done,’ said Crispin, at the same time casting a sly wink at hisshopmates; ‘but stop, let me see if I’ve got so much of the weed about me. Oh, yes, here’s a whole hand of Cavendish,’ and laying it on the cutting board, lie ventured to sug gest the propriety of having the suet-skin laid alongside of it, which was no sooner done than lie proceeded to draw from its hiding place the other shoe. ‘ Here, boss,’ said he, ‘you must decide the bet; say, which of the two shoes is the worst ?’ ‘ ‘Veil, [ guess I’m fairly sucked in this time,’ replied the boss, pushing die Cav endish and shin-plaster towards (lie right ful owner, and throwing a ninepcnce to ! die youngest n.ppi entice Tho b y hood ed no further instructions as to his duty, but was off in the twinkle of a bed-post, and soon rcouriled With a quart of black strap. Alter all hands had sufficiently regaled themselves, tho shrewd Yankee put his sticks together, and bidding the boss a hearty good-bye, started again on a tramp, very well satisfied with his fore noon’s work. Jiiidul Thoughts. I have speculated a great deal upon matrimony. J have seen young and beau tiful women, the pride of gay circles, mar ried as the world says—well Some have moved into costly houses, and their friends have all come and looked at their furni ture and they have gone away and eoni mited them to their sunny hopes chccrfu ly and Without fear. It is natural to be sanguine for the young; at such times I am carried away by similar feelings. • I love to get unobserved into a corner, end watch the bride in her white attire, and with her smiling face and her soft eyes blessing me in their pride of life, weave a waking dream of future happiness, and per suade myself that it will he true 1 think liovv they will sit upon the luxurious sofa as the twilight falls, and build gay hopes, and murmur in low tones the now not forbidden tenderness; and how thrillingly the allowed kiss, and the beautiful en dearments of wedded life, will make even their parting joyous, and liovv gladly they will come back from the crowd and the empty mirth of the gay, to each other’s quiet company. I picture to myself that young creature who blushes even now at his hesitating caress, listening eagerly for his footstep as the night steals On, aiid wishing that he would come; and when he enters at last, aud with an affection as undying as his pulse, folds her to his bosom, 1 can feel the tide that goes flowing through the heart, and gaze with him ort the graceful form as she moves about for the kind office of affection, soothing all his unquiet cares, and making him forget even himself in hci young and unshadowed beauty. I go forward for years, and sec her luxuriant hair put sobcily away from her brow, and her girlish graces resigned into dignity, and her loveliness cbustcned with the gentle meekness of maternal affection. llcr husband looks on her with proud eye, and shows her the same fervent love and delicate attention which first won her; and her fair children are grown about them, and they go on full of honor and untroubled years, and are remembered when they die.—[Washington Irving. best thing to give your enemy is forgiveness; to your oppouent, toler ance; to a friend, your heart; to your child a good example; to s father, defer ence; to a mother, eoudia’ct that will make her proud of her sou. BYRD WHITE, Publisher. VtURSIi E. A Novel la .Tames’ Style. A writer in the Knickerbocker gives tlm following us tin; opening chapter of anew romance called “Geonle, Or the King’s Pei, by G. 1\ 11. q. A. James: “ It was near midnight, towards the close of the afternoon on a sultry morning in Deeeftiber, 18—, previous to the revo lution of the last war, when the burning moon was setting in me eastern sky,casting a brilliant shadow upon gorgeous clouds which entirely Obscured the firmament; & the unclouded sun was sending down its noonday beams with an intensity of heat, like the shrieking of heavy thunder thro’ the deep mountain gorges of the wester i prairies. “ Lovely, indeed, was the sound of such a spectacle to the feet of the weary trav eler, for three feline monsters of the deep were just gathering together for their evening meal, and separating, erb the sun was risen, for the sports of the chase, and all things betokened a response too deep for utteranc “In the ensuing autumn, about two years previous to the above mentioned merry catastrophe, two pedestrians might have been seen riding on horseback in a three-wheel carriage up the brow of a for est, which had been cut down before the trees had begun to take root, and engag ed in eating their evening dinner by tho road side in the arras of Morpheus. The eldest of the three gentlemen wasayoimg lady of about fifty-three, and about two years younger than the other man Which latter gentleman was from the manner in which she addressed him, evidently her on ly and youngest daughter, “ I he remainder of hot dress consisted of two pair of pantaloons, neatly buttoned round the tops of her ears, and elegantly attached by a golden strap Os Unwoven silk to the axle-tree of the middle-aged gentle man’s horse. “The third individual, last mciHidncd, was an old gentleman of about twenty-two whose venerable features disclosed the livid hue of the Siberan negro. Mis bald hea l was profusely Covered with long sil ver locks of sandy jet, an 1 which ho had cviduiidy lost duhng a severe attack.of s m-sickucss, caught from the next doer neighbor, who resides several blocks from him in the country. His also was richly attired in a Worn out fro k-coat which was secured by straps under his boots. “lie had lost Loth arms just ahovo the collar bone, and was constrained to tt Citr crutches, this, added to his total blinducs.4 rendered him an object of general admira-’ tiou.” The Star Spangled Rammer. If the French hymn of Liberty, tho Marseillaise, was composed under excit ing circumstances, the Star Spangled Banner was inspired by events no less pa triotic, by our distinguished countryman, Mr. Francis Scott Ivey, an able and elo quent lawyer, ah accomplished gentleman, a man of noble and generous impulses.— During die war with the British, in 1814, Mr. Key was residing in Baltimore, and hearing of the detention of a dear and intimate friend, lie started to obtain his release, lie went as far as the mouth of the I’atapsco river, which enters the •Chesapeake Bay, and is about eighty-five in les north of the Potomac river. Here he was arrested and Carried on board a British maii-of war belonging to the Brit ish licet stationed opposite Fort Mel I or’ ry, the bombardment of which he was compelled to witness. The English Ad miral boasted before Mr. Key that l.e would take the Fort in a few hours, anu the city of Baltimore within the two suc ceeding days. The bombardment contin ued during the whole day and following night, w ithout making an impression eith er on the strength of the Works or the spirit of the garrison. Our patriotic countryman stood on the deck, watching through the smoke which sometimes obscured it, tjie banner of free dom waving from the Fort. At length night cuuie, and he could see .it no more; Still lie watched, until the dawn began to bring objects around into distinctness. With boating heart he turned towards: the Fort, and there, waving in the morn ing breeze, high atid uninjured, was the banner, with its stars and stripes, the banner of freedom and independence, then in its early days. It was at this moment if joy and triumph that Francis Scott Ivey composed the “ Star Spangled Ban • ucr ” After Mr Key had been liberated, ami the British had retired front Fort Mr llonry without again attempting the at tack on the city of Baltimore, he comple ted his patriotic hymn, which was enth Plastically received then, and lias on :* been considered ns one of the national soups of our country At Washington, Mr. Barton Key, tL-’ sou of Mr.Scott Key,(who diediu 181” i was present, with many Senators, and ail the distinguished society of that ci’.\ t when M'lle .Pai'odi and Mdme. StrakoM-li repeated, amidst thunder* of applans and waving of handkerchiefs, this inspir ed verse, and he was most deeply moved by the homage to the memory of his la ther’s genius.