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latter ai.ima’s arc,; e.’.iq s, :.ol Jo 1<: c 1 cU j .l ti.i* world—“no o but thcm. ehes can f«* jKU'jJjcis.'* They arc too pick of the hrge-t horse s mi the island, and their natural L increased, by ovcr-ftxiding, to truly ele phantine proportions. Os course, they have in) wind, and never proceed quicker than a leisurely walk —but, for dragging heavy bur dens, or short & sudden exertion, tlien* strength is 0:10 nnous. Hut what is chiefly to lx: ad mired, is the training, good temper, and docili tv of tiiese treinendnous brutes t and, before you have navigated tbe Strand, or any of the gro it thoroughfares of London, in a cab, at the rate, perhaps, of a mile an hour, ia conse quence of tbe immense collection of indescri bable vehicles, and wise re the slightest rcstive ne ;s or intractability on the part of these ani mals would, in all probability, Ik; tbe means ol cru-uing von and your shell to atoms,you be < oujc grateful to t.icm for their lorlxjarance, and begin to love the gent’e monsters. In moral qualities, they are in:i,lately super or to f r r brutal, unfeeling conductors; and, when vou M»;itr;tst the two, you cannot help feeling taut there is more truth and less uiiainlability in j)ean Swift’s imaginary sketch of tlie llouy bnlnims and Yahoos than is generally sup po ed, or than it is agreeable for the pride ot human nature to acknowledge. I low very little sympathy appears to exist between horses and I lebrew.s, considering, too, how ue irlv tiiev were originally allied in clime and country. The Jews are decidedly a po ripntetick people. It is but rave, indeed, that you see tlie owner of a marked hebrew physi ognomy, proceeding in equestrian fission ; and von never, by anv chance, meet with a Jewish jockey, coachman, cabman, po tiilion, ostler, or, indeed, any calling that has to do with that species of quadruped. It is curious to observe tlie bias this shrewd, intelligent, and pertena cious people exhibit toward particular employ ments, to which tiiev adhere, generation a her generation, with a constancy almost equal to their devotion to their usages and religion.— llow sedulously do they avoid the pursuit oi agriculture, and, in general, oi the mechanical arts. In London, tiie wealthy and well-edu cated among them, are almost invariably, mer chants, bankers, and exchange brokers ; the nft Idle class keep shops, and, ibrthe most part sell toys, umbrellas, and optical instruments ; while the lower orders have, from time imme morial, been distinguished as boxers, and have enjoyed the mono no v of old clothes and orau tr‘»a. '* * A story was told me the ofl'ordoy, concern ing one of those o’J clothes merchants, which Very forcibly illustrates the saving of labour principle, and t!ie truth of the proverb that every one understands his own business best. Those who are familiar with London cries, know that the erv of a Jew who wishes to buy, sell or exchange dilapidate 1 garments, is a sort <>[' iiidiscnbalae sound, which may, perhaps,; be no iTtvst expressed by the letters, Kio ! L'ht! () kio (1 , who was new to London, and of a shv, diffident, lint. curious and fidgety tenmorume.nt, w.issadly j ns>:!e 1 to know what' this erv could possibly mean : and, laudably! desirous of ad ling to his spvk of knowledge,; made several earnest imp lira.- upon tin* vehJ jeet, the fruitsof which were laughter and ildi- cule. Tills (.* did not at. all relish; end; he, therefore, smo there i his curiosity, and a.skedj no more questions—but still the everlasting erv haunted bun. What could it mem ? 1 le! pine lin thought—his appetite fell oil-—lie be-! came ieverisa and irritable. At night Ins s!uml>cr.s were broken by visions of many old; men, who curried bags upon their backs, nndj unccasinglv eiaculated. “Klo! klo! 0 klo!” and when he started in a morning, from his restless pillow, and burr ed forth to cool him. use If, in even* street or squam lie encountered one of those long-bearded, inscrutable beings —and they glared strangely at him, and their lips moved, and out of their mouths came the everlasting “ Klo! klo! O kio I'" “ Tills is not to be borne,” muttered Cl to himself; “ my life is rendered miserable!” “ Klo! klo! O klo!” resounded from the oposite side of the street. <.' lost all command of himso’f. “My good lad,” said be, addressing a pot-bo v, “can you tell me what that man means by “ Klo ! kin! <> klo!” The pot-boy requested to know “ who the gear,nan was pricking tun out off,” grinned in Jus face, shook his pots, and went off whistling “ Jump Jim Crow.” The ice once broken, (1 went on. ad dressing, in his blandest manner, a pretty nur sery-maid, who was taking tV air with seven children and two lap-dogs, requested an expla nation of the mysterious cry of “Klo! klo! O klol” The nursery-maid, iufy convinced that \a * r —W , S i'.'rtll tl f* fO«(U i t i'-i )M Li '}l ipccting b in of Giovainii-Lti pro] entities, cx jclaimed Li a tone of coricious rectitude—“l aii.t whui you take me for!” after which site jvldskcd oir in a virtuous indignation. “T x% ill know—l trill be satisfied !” exclaim ed (J in a determined voice, and with his whole manner marked by the power of irre sistablc trill, as be darted into the middle of the stm t toward a hackney-coachman, in order to reiterate his inquiries. i The hackney-coachman put his horses in motion as be saw him approach, in ihe pleas ing anticipation of “a fare;” but. when lie heard the question submitted to him for solu tion, bis countenance assumed a very wrathful expression, and he desired (J , in substance to go to the infernal regions, only, not being a j classical scholar, lie availed himself of a short but energetic monosyllable, signifying precise ly the same thing. • *‘l will write toghe Secretary of the Home .Department about it,” quoth G ; ‘‘l wilt not he bullied!” Just as be had formed this determination, a hollow voice at his elbow pronounced tlie fatal ■ sounds—“ Klo ! klo ! O klo!” (1 could stand it no longer; but, turn ing suddenly round, resolutely confronted the ! mysterious one! •* Friend,” said ho, endeavoring to repress j Iris agitation, “in heaven’s name, what do you 'mean by “ Klo ! klo ! O klo !” “Man!” replied the mystery; “why, I means clothes ! clothes! old clothes!”—what I else should I mean?” G drew a long breath, took off his hat, wiped tlie perspiration from his throbbing tem ples, looked at the man ‘more in sorrow than ui anger,’ and then, shaking his headimpressive ily, and pausing lietwcen evc>y Word, so as to I give greater force to his rebuke, he exclaimed : “ Then—why—the—deuse—don't you say I old clothes?” i “ Sir,” replied the man very civally, “if you had to cry, that cry as 1 have, mnylic twenty | thousand times in a day, it wouldn’t be long be fore you’d find out the difference of trouble be tween saying ‘ O klo!”and ‘Old clothes!” It was unanswerable. (1 attempted no reply, lie put on his hat and strode away. There is an excellent moral in this anecdote —if the veader catl find it out. New York Mirror. Despair. When a firm had sinned, and the verY elc-i met its seemed t-> sympathise in a lament lor I his lost innocence: in that bom* of dismay, I I win n seraphs forsook, and God him elf turned! lawny tlie light of his countenance,—one bright: j soil'd linov.ru I. nor won:.! desert man in this his: extremity. With leader assiduity, and many; :a winning; token of J:indue-s, did she str;\«. .;j jj wean him from his sorrows. She prevailed ;! II and as he decrees, Ills nunc! seemed to holder, j oi tiie we gli! which oppressed it, and cmifi-i !deuce resumed her seat, the spirit, joyed, and; - I lo'o, e'K'lKu.h i, smile; 1 , and waived her 'gold- i j;o:t ha.r.” Since then, Iter home has been with I j he children of men ; and ever, with tiie same |l winning care. lias she striven to beguile their I he trts oi’ sorrow, and to Imoy up tiie sinking j! spirit. But there are times, when she comes not to the distressed. Toe re are hearts pierc ed. which her con tie hand lands not up. There c_ # i is ti gloom w.iich her light scatters no + , and an anguish which her voice does not soothe.— Weave in loneliness, and none is near; we groupe in darkness, yet no friendly hand stretch, es out to save. We led for something to which wo may cling : nil is empty. We shout in agony, yet no guiding voice replies: all is still. It is the feeling of despair—its loneliness—its! utter solitude. (live to man but the semblance! jof hope, and, phantom though it maybe, lie will follow Its guidance as eagerly as- does the ! child pursue the painted insect. Give him hut a twig to cling by, and he will climb, ay, though ; frail the tenure, and the grav e beneath. But i quench the last spark of hope, and, in despair, Ihe will fall without a struggle. Let the storm jbeat ever so fiercely upon the soul, vet, if but ;a single gleam find its way to cheer and warm iit will revive; but let darkness gather around, land it sinks to the dust. j The feeling of which we speak is an indefi nable sensation. We see its elleets, and we know that it exists. We have all, at times, felt its wretchedness, its misery. It is not disap pointment. ; our hopes may have been baffled, but we trust still. One stay may have been withdrawn, yet other means of support buoy up. It is not sorrow; for even it may imper ceptibly lie blended with some pleasurable emo tion, which will lieguile its sting; or the hand of time may soften and mellow, and it will cease to grieve. But there is a blow which does nut stun, but deadens—a weight which docs not oppic •, Lit crus! < s—a pang which; does not grieve, but kills, it Is the blow, the! weight, the pang, of despair. Its touch weak ens the strongest ami, and unnerves L.e stout est heart. Tbe wealth, which the labour of years has heaped together, may be swept away in instant: we know that gold is but dross, and that rich es are unstable. Pleasure which once, delight ed, may forsake us: we know that they are brittle, and that a touch may shatter. For tune may turn her smile to mockery, or Fame delude with unreal visions : we know that the former is a fickle goddess, and the latter a fan ciful vagary—a sound which dies in the breath ing. Amid all tbe losses and woes which throng thick upon us, we may bear against them. But another blow follows. The friend, in whom we hid garnered up our hearts—to whom we had unbosomed every sorrow, and with w hom shared every joy—he whom we had warmed and cherished, turns his viper-fang upon us. Or, when some loved form has en twined itself around us till it has become link ed with our being, death wrenches it aw ay, and we feel that we have taken the flower to our bosom only to perish :it is tbe last drop, and the waters of bitter despair overflow. She comes to the heart of the prisoner as be en ters his solitary cell, and the last bolt is drawn ; the sound of the receding footstep dies upon his ear, and, in sickness of soul he sinks down in utter hopelessness. She is with the wreck ed mariner w hen tlie last, lone speck, which promised a friend to save, has vanished : bis heart dies with him. Already the sound of waters in his ear, and he “ feels what pain it is to drown.” Her wan and haggered form ho vers around the couch of the dying, when the last remedy has failed, and death’s grasp is firm. It speaks in the dim eye —the lip, pale and tremulous—and the faint and more faintly throbbing heart. Nor does its spell work upon the weak and timed alone. The mighty have bowed to it. At its touch, the cheek of courage pales; the arm of strength falls powerless ; resolution fails, and “Hope withering flies, and Mercy sighs farewell!” N. Y. Mirror. It has lioon tin* wisdom of experienced minds, that a young man makes a great mistake by entering into busines for himself, too young. Os the number who begin thus, how few suc ceed. They launch off upon an untried sea, without a compass, a rudder or an oar, and they are soon tossed about at the mercy of every contending billow, or rinally dashed in ruin up on some rugged neak. * T . face the world, you must know thel world. Tlie. youth who pounces by a single' bound into the a ma of commercial conte - tendon and competition, finds himself out-I ot by old marksmen, in tiie exciting contest. lie may bet upon the issue, and with each loss he only the more excited by laying down his stakes, but lie s o»-»u dies forlorn, game to the practised e lisle. Proper ambition should not be checked; but let the youth learn of the world, ere he un dertakes to be of tiie world. Get its wisdom —av, get its worldly wisdom, for it is neces sary to carry you successfully over the ocean of adventure. More voting men are ruined by rushing too precipitately into business, getting involved in debt, and finally breaking down under the load, than in any other way. Thpv are apt to go too fast for their prospects, and then their prospects go too fast for them.— They should be enterprising but not fool-hardy. They should aspire,but not ascend at once to the clouds, for aerial voyagers are apt to float as mere “castles in the air.” The woman whom an honorable man makes ' the partner of his life, ought never to listen to a ; syllable against his fair name; his honor is hers, jand if her lips, which should breathe comfort in ’calumny, only serve to retail the lie—she may lie beautiful, gifted, wealthy and highborn, but he takes a curse to his arms. REQUITED LOVE. What words can be more delighful to the hu man ear, than the unexpected effusion of gen erosity and affection from a beloved woman. | A gentleman, after great misfortunes, came to j a lady he had long courted, and told her his circumstances were so reduced, that he was i actually in want of fire guineas. “ 1 am very glad to hear it,” said she. “ Is this your affection for me ?” he replied, in a tone of despondency, “ why are you ghid ?” “Because,” answered she, “if you want jive i guineas, I can put you in possession of five ! THOUSAND.” THE BOTTOMLESS I*l7. The Mammoth Cave of Kentucky is sus. pected by many to run tlnough the whole di. ameter of the earth. The branch terminates in it, and the explorer suddenly finds himself brought upon its brink, standing on a proiec. irig platform surrounded on three sides by dark ness arid terror, a gulf on the right and a gulf on the left, and before him what seems an inter minable \oid. lie looks aloft, but r.oeye has reached the top of the great over-arching dome; nothing is there seen but the flashing of tbe water dropping from above, smiling as it shoots by in the unwanted gleam of the lamp. —He looks below, and nothing there meets his glance save darkness as thick as lamp back, but he hears a wild mournful melody of water, tbe wailing of tbe brook for the green and the sunny channel left in the upper world never more to be revisited. Down goes a rock, tumbled over the clilFby the guide,who is of the opinion that folks come here to see and hear, not to muse A: l>e melancholy. There it goes ! crash, it has readied the bo’tom—No! hark it strikes again—-once more and again still falling. Wkl it never stop ? One’s hair begins to bris. tie, as he hears the sound repeated, growing less and less, until the era* can follow it no longer. Certainly if the pit of Frederick shall be eleven thousand feet deep,the Bottomless Pit of the Mammoth Cave must he its equal: for two minutes, at least, we can hear the stoi c descending. A priest’s 1101,10 AV. A Roman Catholic curate, to free himself from his labor of confession in Lent, gave notice that on Monday, he should confess tbe liars; on Tuesday, the misers ; on Wednesday, the slanderers ; on Thursday, the thieves; on Friday, the libertines; on Saturday, the had tromcn. Ilis scheme succeded :—none atten ded. Fur the Southern Poet. TIIE HOUR OF EVE. BY MRS. C. LADD. The length’ning shades of eve had closed around ; All nature, fast, was sinking to repose ; No murmuring echo, save tiie riplir.gof the rill, Or chimes of distant village bells, Broke on the stillness of the night. The moon arose in aifits majesty, And o’er the distant landscape cast hs soft, sweet, silvery light; The poet’s hold, descriptive powers have failed— The painter oft has tried iiis art in vain— Imagination can alone conceive, The still, ca!:beauty of a summer eve. Fr< • from the mils and labors of the day, l’he sordid angry passions, that ihe world Into oor hearts instill, are lull’d to rest, Or melt, lik* > -so bright fleecy clouds Os siiir.n er, that are scarcely seen, Ere in tbe distance they have died away : Higher and nobler thoughts, within the breast Os mat., rest;me their transitory sway ; The scenes of childhood’s happy, joyous, hours Return again in all their colors bright. Imagination .oains and :r>.VxS with delight O’er days and scenes that long have pass’d away, When ev’ry path was with fresh flowers strown, And all the world 'eem’d to the youthful mind, A paradise below. There’s something holy in the thought, That twilight’s hour brings A secret spell, an unknown charm, It e'er cur nature flings. Tlie eye of God can, with a glance, Around creation sweep; The good below may quiet rest—• God watches whilst they sleep. I think, ah ! often think, Eve’s holy hour was given To turn our hearts away From things of earth to Heaven, Then, with the poet I exclaim, Oh! Angels ever bright and fair; For well I know at eve’s sweet hour Their airy forms are hov’ring near. YineviUe. For tiie Southern THE LAST ROSE. I saw a rose in beauty drest, At dawn uprear its dewy head ; „ ’Twas Mary’s hand its stem cares’d, When all its sister blooms had fled. The Violet and the Eglantine Displayed a bare ungarnish’d stem ; One only flow’ret deck’d the vine, 'Twas Flora’s fairest, purest, gem. Attain T look’d, but winter’s gale Had borne its beauties far away ; December frosts had chill’d the vale, And this sweet flow’r sunk in decay v Emblem of Life—its tender form, Awhile display’d its beauties rare ; But soon—too soon—came winter’s storm, And left no trace to say “ Uwas there." OSCAR.