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BY GARDNER & BARROW. THE GEORGIA lIIRROR, Is published every Saturday, in Florence, .jtewart county, Ga. at JTIIREE DODLARS a year, if paid in advance, or FOUR DOLLARS, if not paid until the end of the year. Advertisements wilt be conspicuously inserted at One Dollar per square, (15 lines) the first, and 50 cents for each subsequent insertion. Nothing under 15 lines will be considered less than a square. A deduction will be made for yearly ad vertisements. AH advertisements handed in for publication without , limitation, will be published till forbid, and charged accordingly. Julies of Land and Negroes by Executors, Ad ministrators and Guardians, are required by law to be advertised in a public Gazette, sixty days previous to the day of sale. The sale of Personal property must be adver tised in like manner forty days. Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an estate must be published forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land and Ne groes. must be published weekly for four months. {T'C- All Letters on business must be pos paid to insure attention. autobiography of a shinplaster. BA' GEORGE AV. BRADAt’ItV. I had rather be a kitten and cry mew. Than one of these same shinplasters^ Shakspcare's Henry TV. Os the place of my nativity I have no distinct re collection, hut tiiat l'was born, and into me breathed the breath of life somewhere, arc facts which do not admit of doubt. I was one of a numerous, pro geny, early set adrift upon the tide of the world, awl at a time when mankind were disposed to treat us with any thing but favor or kindness— And it is only because my life has been one of continued ill-fortune, that I have been saluted with nothing but curses and maledictions, in all mv varied journcyings, with a few slight excep tion, that I attempt to trace this brief record of my pilgrimage. Bear with me. then, I beseech thee, gentle reader, while f rehearse a tale, com mencing in grief and ending in sorrow—one which emphatically is “a dark talc, darkly finish ed.” The first distinct recollection 1 ha\'e of being in existence was finding myself nicely spread out upon a table, joined Siamese-twin fashion, to a , number of connections. We were barely permit ted to see the light for a few moments, when others were placed upon us, newly brought into being like ourselves. For some time the pile , sensibly increased, and at last, under lock and key, we were safely and snugly stored away.— Being but lightly skilled in judging of passing time, 1 am unable to tell how long we remained in darkness and silence. Like all others, though, who are desti* ate. of common sense, as well as ex perience, we were extremely anxious to be ush ered forth into th« wide world. When next overhauled, I was disfigured in er'd places with tb" ru-’e marks of a pen. Vari ous flourishes were made across my tuec, and 1 was finally separated from my companions. I soon found myself in a drawer with some strangers, a portion of whom were oi a similar age and com plexion with myseif, but a majority were older, and had seen something ot the world. They were not improved by the collision, having imbi bed curious notions of self-importance, and being considerably puflfed up with pride and conceit— So wondrous were their tales, however, that I longed for an opportunity to display my power, and learn the manners and customs ot those who had grown old amid the lights and shadows of life. Sooner than I had anticipated, were iny wishes gratified. I was taken one day, rudely twined a round the finger of the person who had given me existence, and thrust into the greasy hand of a little black rascal who fc r the last month had been brushing the boots of his patron. “Good for a dollar any how,” said my new master, as he tuck ed me into his pocket. Truly rejoiced was I to escape from my loathsome confinement. The sister of the sweet youth, in searching his pocket the evening after 1 came into his possession, laid violent hand; on me, and deposited me in her bo som. I should have suffocated outright in that condition, had not the lady paid me away to a shopkeeper for a pair of pink silk gloves. I was rejoiced to find myself safe in a capacious drawer again, with the wrinkles effaced from my surface; hut was in noway gratified by overhear ing the conversation between the spruce shop keeper, and his boy. “Jim, what money did that black wench hand you?” “I did not notice particularly, sir.” “Well, you can not be too careful in these times. Let me look at the bill.” A single glance told the tale. “What the devil did you take this thing for, you stupid loafer ? Nobody has had any thing to dp with these for several days.” ■“V/nk* * s sir ?” faltered Jitn. “Why one of those cursed shinplasters. Run after the girl.” The big drops of perspiration started out upon me timing the absence of Jim, and I shuddered at the thought of the tortures I should be com pelled to undergo, should Jim be successful in the search, i was, therefore, inexpressibly re lieved, when he came panting back with the into - ligence that she was not to bo found. 1 _ pn ’ Shinplaster was my name. This was the it's time I had heard it lisped. Shinplaster! It soun ded curious, even odious; and I have since lent ti ed from Shakspearc, that “a rose by any otlu r nanjc would smell as sweet.” Here, then, seemed to be an end to my adven tures for the time. I was laid away in a corner of the drawer and treated with absolute contempt. Such of my own kidney as came in contact with me, pretended to despise me more thoroughly than any body else. But so goes the world. “When fate and fortune cease, to smile, Prepare for insults from the vile.” To be deemed «.i impostor by those no better than ourselves, is at all times sufficiently grievous. I remained in seclusion several days, and at last was very abruptly drawn forth on a certain occa sion, much to my astonishment, as may be con ceived. “Is this good ?” was asked by one of the swee test and most musical voices I ever heard. “Certainly, ma’am, perfectly current. We keen no other money. It isasgood as gold.” Without a word of remonstrance the lady de posited me in a fine purse, enveloped the same in a hankerchief and walked out. I hardly dared to breathe lest my bubble of good fortune should burst and vanish—lest the dream should prove “too flattering sweet to he substantial.” To be sure I had some scruples about the propriety of be coming the lady’s property through the falsehood of the merchant, but seeing no wav of convenient ly avoiding it, I silently acquiesced in the change. She was a woman of rare virtues and loveliness, and treated me with kindness and attention. Un der her care, I sensibly improved in my personal appearance, and was no longer ashamed of my figure. My with this lady was one of the bright spots in the desert of existence.— Several times she gratified me with a survey of the town in her rambles, and I feared a separa tion much sooner than it came. It was curious to witness her excursions among the shopkeepers. One afternoon, particularly, I was exceedingly amused. At the first shopshe inquired for some thing which they were so unfortunate as not to possess; after a short confab with an oH acquain tarw», she passed to the next store, asking for a different article, which was also found wanting Although avc stopped at more than fifty places, it was a singular fact that she seldom inquired for the same thing twice, and finally obtained nothing she wanted. So queer is it that the shopkeepers never keep the goods which are most in demand. The manner in which she finally disposed of me was curious enough. She received a visit from a gentleman one evening, who fay some ac cident got a view of my phiz.” “Where did you get that thing ?” “I do not remember; why ?” “It is good for nothing.” “Are you ccrtaiuof it ? “In truth I am, nobody takes shinplasters.” “It is then useless?” “Perfectly worthless.” “Suppose 1 make you a present of it then ? for I view you as of equal consequence.” “Do, I will preserve it as a relic.” In one instant mote I was thrust into the pocket of his vest. Here was another change of fortune, and in an instant I was awakened from the brigh test dream of my life. Few people have any taste for a description of love scenes or any thing approaching thereto. They were long since worn threadbare. Consequently i shall not detail the conversation which occurred between my late mis tress and her admirer. A declaration ot love en sued, and various amusing things were said which they both knew were lies, and which caused me to laugh right lustily in my sleeve. I should have been still mote tickled had f not been confined in such a situation as to preclude all observation ou my part; I could only overhear the conversation. There was much simpering and sighing—many fond protestations, and finally a downright par ting scene, described by Juliet as “such sweet sorrow.” We came aw ay. “Now-,” said my possessor, as soon as we Avere fairly in the street, “that business is done with, there is .1 little too much nonsense about it for sport. As for this and -d shinplaster, 1 guess it is good for a glass of liquor any how; so here goes,” and we plunged into a cofiec-house. “Jack, give us a bit of brandy.” “Sugar in it sir ?” “No, I drink it clear; take the change out of that.” . . , Jack examined me very closely, scrutinized the hand writing on my face with much apparent cir cumspection, and finally laid me on the counter. A little of the brandy had been spilled, Avhich rvas absorbed by myself and hence the reason why people ever afterwards supposed me to be an in veterate toper. “We can’t go that sir,” said Jack. “Not go that! 1 took it here last week; besides, ’tis the only small bill l have.”' “Arc you certain we gave it to you ?" “Certain ? I am not in the habit of lying about small things; have the goodness to give me the change.” „ , , . Without further parley I was deposited in the receptacle for cash. I here remained for some time. Numberless endeavors to get rid ot inc were made in vain. The scenes I witnessed were extremely amusing, not to say instructive, lor instance, what could be more funny than to sec prominent men in the cause of temperance call in and toss oft* their liquor with infinite nonchalance. After being poked from one corner of the drawer to the other for several days, the proprietor one cve looked in upon his cash, bestowed some term of opprobrium with a curse or two upon me, and finally twisted me up for the purpose of lighting his cimtr. He set fire to me by the caudle, with the utmost indifference, by which operaf.on some thing over one half my dimensions was reduced to ashes The remainder he placed in lus pocket. I must have remained in that place with scraps of tobacco, rusty nails, and old buttons for some weeks He finally took me out one day, through mere accident, and closely sun-eying my ph.z.ex- Cl “One’ of them Shinplasters, by Jupiter; thev are good noxv.” , , ~ I was by this time in a most dehpidated coi tion. Ragged and greasy as I avis, the fellow pasted a piece of rough brown paper over my en- FLORENCE, GA. SATURDAY, JULY 21, 1838. tire back, ami succeeded iu getting rid of me with but little difficulty. My adventures alter this were ieAV, but well worth relating. 1 am, however, in nothing but fragments, with siender prospects of any improvement. Old age is doing its ac customed work upon me, and 1 can feel that the >ands ot life are running loav. If at my future tim« I should become so much rcnoA’ated as to be able to write out a few additional reflections, they shall be given to the Avorld in the proper place.— Reader, fare thee well, if you require any re ward for reading this sketch, you are welcome to me wherever you can find me. I am poor and poverty stricken—as Avorthless as a shinplaster. MANAGEMENT—A YANKEE STORY. I’ve hearn folks say that the Avimin Avas contrai ry, Avell they is a leetle so, hut if you manage ’em rite, haAvl in here, and let ’em out there, you can drive ’em along without whip or spur, jest which Avay you Avant ’em to go. When I lived doAvn at Elton, there Avas a good many first-rate gals doAvn there, but I didn’t take a likin’ to any on 'em, till squire Cummins cutn down there to live. The squire had an almighty puty darter. I sed sum of the gals Avas fus rate but Nancy Cmmins was fus rate, and a leetle more. There was many dressed finer and looked grander, but there was somethin jam about Nance, that they couldn’t hold a candle to. If a feller seed her Avunce, he couldn’t look at another gal fora Aveek. I tuk a likin to her rite off, and we got as thick as theves. We had used to go to the same meetin, and sot in the same peAV. It took me to find the sarins and hims for her, and Ave’d swell ’em out in a manner shockin to hardened sinners ; then Ave’d mosey hum together, while the gals and fellors kept a looking on as the, they’d like to mix in. I’d always stay to supper, and the Avay she cood make injutn cakes, and the way 1 wood slick ’em over with molasses and put ’em away, was nuthin to nobody. She was dredful civil tew always gettin something nice for me. I was up to the hub in love, and Avas goin in for it like a locomtive. Well, things went on this way a spell, till she thotshe had me tite enongh. Then she begin to shoAV off kinder independent like. When I’d go to the meetin, tliore Avas no room for me in the pew ; when she’d cum out of meetin she’d streake off with another chap, an leave me suckin my fingers at the door. Instead of stickin to me as she used to do, she got cuttin around Avith all the fellors jest as if she cared nothin about me no more, none Avhatsumever. I got consid erably riled and thot I mout as avcll come to the end of it at wunce : so doAvn I went to have it out with her, thare was a hull grist of fellors there They seemed mity quiet till I went in, then she got talkin all manner of nonsense, and uothtn to me, and darned little of that. I tried to keep my dander down, but it twarn’t no use. I kept moo vin about as if I had a pin in my troAvsers. I sweat as if I bin thrashiu. My collar bung doAvn as if it had been hung over my stock to dry. 1 couldn’t stand it, so cleared out as quick as I cood, for 1 seed 'tAvas uo use trying to say nothing to her. I Avent strate to bed, and thot the matter over a spell; thinks 1 that gal is jest tryin of me, taint no use of her playin possum; I’ll fake the kink out of her ; If I don’t fetch her out that High grass, use me for sassage meat. I hearn tell ofa boy wunce, that got to skeAvl late one Sunday morning, master scs, you tarnal sleepin critter, Avhat kept you so late ! why, ses the boy, its so everlastin slippy out, I coodn’t get along no how every step 1 took forrard, I went tew steps back ward, and I coodn’t have got here at all, if i hadn’t turned back to go tuther way. Noav, that’s jest mv case. I have been puttin after that gal con siderable time. Now, thinks I, I’ll go tutu ’v way —she’s been slitin of me, uoav I’ll slite her—Avhat s sass for the goose is sassfor the gander. W ell, I Avent no more to Nance’s. Next Sabbaday, 1 1 slicked myself up and l dew say, when I got my fixins on. 1 took the shirt tail clean off of any spe cimen of human nature about our parts. About meetin time off’l put to Eltham Dodge’s—Pa tience Avas as nice a gal as you’d see ’twixt here and yonder, any more than she wasn't jest like Nancy Cummins. Ephraim Massey had used to go to see her ; he avhs a clever teller, but he was dreadful joins. Well I went to meetin with Patience, and sot right afore Nanc ; 1 didn't set mv eyes on her til! arter meetin, she had a feller Avith her avlio had a blazon red lied, and legs like a pair of compasses; she a face as long as a grace afore thanksgivin dinner. I knOAvd avlio she was thinkinabout, an ’twarnt the chap with the head, nuther. Well, 1 gotbocn Patience about a spell. Kept my eye on Nance, seed lioav the cat Avas jum pin, she didn’t cut about like she did, and look’d rather solemnly, she’d g’in her teiv eyes to kiss and make up. 1 kep it until I like to have got’.n to a mess about Patience. The critter thot l was goin arter her for good, and got as proud as a lame turkey Won dayEphecuin doAvn to our place looking as rathy as a officer on a trainin day, look here,'ses he, Seth Stokes, as loud as a small thunder clap, I’ll be damd Hallo!sea I, what’s broke ? Why, ses, he, l come down to have satisfaction about Patience Dodge, here I’ve been a courtin her ever since last grass a year, and she Avas jest as good as mine, till you cum a goin arter her, an now 1 can’t touch her with a for ty foot pole. Why, ses I, what on airth are you talkin about, I aint got nothin to do with your gal. but spose I had, there’s nothin, fur you to get wolfy about. If the gal has taken a likin to me, taint my fault; if I’ve taken a liken to her, taint her fault; and if we’ve taken a liken to one another, taint your fault: hut i aint so almighty taken with her,’ an you may have her for me, so you h dn t ought to get savage about nothin, W ell, says he, (rather cooled down) L am the nuluckiest thing in creation, I went tuther day to a place Avhere there was an old woman died of the bots or sum such disease, an they Aver selling out her things. Well, ses he, ther was a thundering big chist of drawers lull of all sorts of truck, so I bot it and thot l made a spec, but Avhen I cum to look at’ein, ther warnt nothing in it worth a cent except an old silver thimble, and that Avas all rusted tip, so I sold it for less than I give lor it; well when the chap that bot it tuck it hum, he heerd sumthin rattle, broke the oldchist, an found lots of gold and silver in it, in a false bot tom I hadn t seen. Noav if I’d tuck that chest hunt I’d never found that inunny, or if I did they’d bin all counterfeit, and I’d bin tuck up for passin on’em. Weill jest told Patience about it, when she rite up an called me a darnd fool. Well, ses I, Kplie that is hard, but nevermind that, jest go on, you can get her, and wen you dew get her, von can file the ruff edges off’jest as you please. That teekled him it did, an aAvay he went a leetle better pleesd. Noav, thinks i, its time to look ar ter Nance. Next day, doun I went. Nancy was all alone. I axed her if the squire was in, she said he Avarnt, cause, ses I, (makin bcleeve I wan ted him) our colt sprained his foot, an I cum to see if the squire Avont lend me his mare to go to town. She sed she gess’d he wood, better sit down till the squire comd in, doun I sot ; she lookd sort a strange, an my hart felt queer all round the edges. Arter a Avile, ses I, air you goin doun to Betsey Mar tn’s quiltin ? sed she, didn't know for sartin; air you a goin ? sed I rcckond I wood; ses she, I spose youd take Patience Dodge, sed I mout and agin I mout not; ses she, I hearn youre a goin to get married; ses I shoodn’t wundera bit, Pa tience is a nice gal, ses I. I looked at her. I seed the teers a cumin; ses I, may be she’ll ax you to be bridesmaid ; sheris rite np, she did, her face as red as a biled beet. Seth Stokes, ses she, an shecoodn’t say any more,' she Avas so full: wont von be bridesmaid, ses I, no ses she, aud she bust rite out; well then, ses I, if you Avont be bridesmaid, av i 11 you be the bride—she lookd up at me—l swan to man I never seed any thing so aAvful puty ; I tuk rite holt of her han, yes or no, ses I, rite off. Yes, ses she, that’s your sort, ses I, as I gin her buss an a hug. I soon fixed mat ters AA-ith the squire. We.soon hitch’d traces to trot in double harness for life, an never had cause to repent of my bargain. J. W. WHO IS THE GENTLEMAN? The ans Aver of this question, among the Amer icans depends generally upon the condition, feel ings, and particular modes of thinking, of those avlio undertake to answer, and consequently he who is veiy much of a gentleman in the estimation of one person, is no gentleman at all in the opin ion of another. A gentleman, in the estimation of mine host, is one who calls freely for all the good things apper taining to the bar, the wine cellar and the table, pays his bills punctually, Avithout disputing the items or the prices; and speaks in flattering terms of every thing about his landlord’s premises, from the beds in the attic to Betty in the kitchen. With waiters and ostlers, a gentleman is one Avho is flush of his cash; who after having paid their master as much as their services are worth, pays them four times their value into the bargain, “Massa Dash,” says Cuffee, “he be one real gem man; he gid me half a dollar for brush his boots, tree-quarter dollar for hold him hoss, and Avhole dollar for callin’him a geairaan. And he be first rate gemnian; and no mistake.” A gentleman, with Dollv, the Chambermaid, is one who says a soft thing to her, praises her good looks, compares her cheeks to the damask rose, her lips to red cherries, her eyes to the planet V euus, and her Avaist to an hour glass; and avljo, to prove the sincerity of his soft nothings, gives her occasionally a shy kiss, a gentle squeeze of the hand, and a blight silver dollar. A dandy’s estimate of a gentleman is based on a foundation peculiarly his own. He is not a crea ture who has any thing to do Avith money, sense, feeling, flesh or blood. He is Avholly a factious animal, made up by the tailor, the seamstress, the eordwainer, the hatter, and the corset manufactu rer. He is, to be sure, a creature that walks, talks and eats; but he does all these from no ordinary motive. He Avalks merely to show his gentleman ly figure; he talks only because he never thinks; and he eats for the same reason that his tailor uses padding, viz: to fill out his proportions. With a duelist, he is no gentleman Avho refu ses to fight a duel. He may enact as many vil lainous tricks as he pleases; lie may seduce the weak, betiay the confiding, cheat the honest, and murder the unresisting; all those do not detract one Avhit from his gentlemanly pretensions. But if he refuses to stand up and be shot at he is no gentleman. Having complied with this requisite he is a gentleman every inch of him, adultery, treachery, and murder to the contrary, notwith standing. With the gay miss, who never breathes freely, except in the atmosphere of lolly and shew, a Gentleman is one who exerts himself to promote her wishes; Avho gallants her to threafres, balls and sleigh rides; av!io neglects his business to at tend to her amusement; Avho spends his money to advance her pleasure. who, in a Avord, is pretty much, if uot altogether, a lady’s man. But with the y oung lady’s maiden aunt, a staid gentlewoman of worth, the gentleman is still a dif ferent personage. He is the essence of respect ful attention, and does not indicate by Avord, look nr action, that he suspects her of being older than she once was, or that he prefers the company of younger misses. With old ladies of revolutionary times, a gen tleman Avho Avears a three cornered beaver, has his shirts ruffled at the wrist. Who wears short small clothes, and -a long AA-aistcoat, AA-ith pocket flaps; avlio Avears silver buckles that reach from side to side of his well saved shoes; who walks with a gold headed cane; and who, in his man ner neglects no item in the ceremony of olden times. The pit-a-pat heart of a susceptible girl of 16, tells her that a gentleman is a tall felloAA', with a fine military cap on his head; a blue coat turned up Avith red facings; a sword by his side; a neat pair of whiskers; a measured step, and a “How d’ye do, mv charming miss ? \ou are the loa'C liest creature I ever beheld —upon my soul you a * Miss Phillis, too—she hab her gemman. And he a brack man, trait as a lamp-post. Avid white tees, roily eve, shiny skin, flatty foot, plumpy skin lip, broaiiy nose —a nigger who wear a red coat, be decolor what it will, who fiddle like Polio, dar.ee Vol. I.—No. 17. like a Frenchman, make two ortree bows in a rain* ute, and say, “O laddy! Missy Phillis, your un pallatable beauty hab set my heart on fire. O glue pot!” Among fox hunters, a gentleman is a fellow who can leap a five barred gate, jump a twenty foot ditch, tread the windings of a forest at full gallop, smell the track when the hounds are at fault, be the first at the death of Reynard, dip the brush in a boAvl of punch, and drink the washings of a fox’s tail. With a country housewife he is e\-cry bit of a gentleman Avho praises her domestic accomplish ments : extols her cookery, admires the neatness of her house, and pats the heads of her children; Avho prefers molasses to sugar in sweetening his coffee; eat9sour bread without a wry face ; dis patches the worst articles on her fable with the best relish; rises at the crowing of the cock; and washes his face at the pump, instead of disarrang ing her ewer and basin, which are kept for show. A sailor’s gentleman is a bit of a tar. He is a man who can box the compass; knot, splice, hand, reef and steer; who can run aloft with the nimble ness of a calf, and keep his footing on a rope, as fearless as a spider on his web. Who recks littio AA-liether he sleeps in lfis hammock, on the round top, or at the bottom of the ocean ; who fears nei ther storms, nor a hostile sail; who cares not a great deal for many; whose hand is eve: ' nat the cry of distress; who loves his wife next- - ship; cannot abide a fellow who comes in at a cab in window; hates meanness and despises i laud lubber. THE ESCAPE. We extract the following amusing account or the escape ofa convict from the . * ■ » itentiary, at Baton Rouge, from . ■ that town. It presents a mixture ot daring me address rarely surpassed. A Convict Escaped. —On the I4ta May tun Louisiana Penitentiary presented a seen' of wonder, confusion, and commotion, occasioned by the unanticipated departure of one of its in mates. Underwood, sentencecd to reside in the Peni tentiary 14 years, for the gallant and bold of fence of highway robbery, after 2 years residence, got wearied of the monotonous duties which ht; had to perform, and the damp gloomy Avails which restrained the flights of his genius; and in a fit of ennui, determined to break the chains Avhich bound him to his home, and once more become a wanderer upon the face of the earth. As he Avas a blacksmith, he found but little difficulty in filing the chain in a part Avhere it Avould escape detection, and fastening it round his leg, appar ently as usual. During the intervals allowed for eating and relaxing from labor, he made a dash ing pair of false whiskers, and thus prepared, he Avaited Avith cool, but untiring watchfulness, to seize any opportunity which might offer. For tune soon granted what the larv denied* The dinner bell rang out its heart-reviving peal on the 14th of May, and the convicts left their labor to solace themselves for the evils they endured, and Undenvood, to devise a plan of escape. The wardens were engaged attending to several visitors, and he found himself, for a few moments, free from their vigilant security. In Aval king to his cell, seeming and resolving, he accidently stumbled over a trunk in the way. “D—-the trunk !” said he, grasping his toe and dancing with pain. But a bright idea dawned upon his mind, and a triumphant smile lighted up his countenance. lie caught the trunk in his arms and carefully peering along the dark passage, he carried it into one of the dark cells. There he opened it and extracted an elegant suit of new clothes, a pair of green spectacles, a polished pair of boots, a fashionable black hat, a pair of soft, kid gloves, a bundle of segars, and pocket book containing money, lie had no water to make his ablutions, but he found a substitute, or perhaps thought the matter beneath his notice. In a few moments he had donned his apparel, whiskers and all, and taking a coquetish peep in a pocket glass. He surveyed—a ready dandy. With a smirk of vanity on his countenance, he set down and indi ted an affectionate valedictory letter to his com rades. He then sallied forth into the yard, and most foppishly SAvaggered round, combing his whiskers, and contemplating the building with marks of astonishment on his countenance. Af ter shoAving off’ for a while, he concluded that it was time to snuff the free breeze, placing a cigar in his mouth he swung himself most lan guidly into the blacksmith’s shop, and asked for permission to get a light. His fellow convicts boAved politely to the dashing dandy, who dreAv the manuscript of an old song from his coat pocket (left there accidentally by the former owner oftho carment )and used it to light his cigar. “Poor Betsey!” said he, sighing as he put if in tha f, re —“How cruel lam to bum your letter—but necessity orders it—there is noting else dean at hand.” He walked leisurely to the gate and entered into conversation with one of the guards. “How many miserable guilty mortals have you iu this gloomy retreat of crime ?” “There are about 120 convicts here now sir.” “How my blood thrills when I think of the degraded state of mankind, when l view so much wretchedness and suffering. Have they any chance ofescape ?” The guard clashed his arms significantly. “Ah ! you keep a strict watch ! —but I can’t conceive how you can endure the sight of so much suffering. I have always disliked to be where crimes are punished ! —my nerves are weak ; I feci for my fellow creatures however abandoned. Good evening sir.” And he extended a paw wrap ped up in glove leather, Avhich the guard respect fully touched. The gate was opened, he entered the pasage that leads to the street, met the war den touched hishat and made a polite bow which was no less courteously returned—and behold Un derwood in the street chuckling at his success, as the wind. , The whiskers were instantly removed, the bar ber received a visit, and Underwood, now aha* Selville, was shaved, brushed, perfumed, and