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ry for us to come to close quarters. I accor
dingly excused myself to Miss 1 and ap
prove ied nearer the object which had excited
so much of my admiration. Col. W im
mediately gave way, and she commenced rath
er blushingly, to wonder how it was that we
had never become acquainted before.
“ This” said I “is very difficult for me to
explain, I am sum it was no fault of mine;
lor I have been striving to get a sight of you
ever since I arrived in town.”
« Yon don’t say so, Doctor,” said R ,
« I wonder how you ever knew there was such
a being as I.”
“Don’t you know ’returned I, “there’s a
. silence that speaks though it’s mute ? and arc
you not aware of some incomprehensible pre
jnoniture that comes over our feelings in rela
tion to someone tlieir fancies have pictured
to them ? Nor is it by the one or the other
method of impression that I first learncl you
6 .isted, but from a beautiful little piece of poe
try I have seen of your composition.”
She colored very much, and commenced
blundering out “ how—why, &c.,” but I saw
her confusion was such as needed some anti
dote, so I continued:
<« Do not mist ike me Miss R , I am not
speaking of any piece you may have written
to some favored Adonis, hut merely a little
sonnet I saw in a friend’s album, which pleased
me very much. From that moment 1 felt de
sirous of cultivating an acquaintance with
you.”
After this explanation she gradually recov
ered her self-possession, and I felt too much
pity and esteem for her to introduce the sha
dow of a subject again that evening, which
might cause her to feel so unpleasant.
*.* But, Doctor,” said she, •* I understand you
arc quite a poet.”
“ Ah, there you have been imposed on,”
said 1, “ I would not if 1 could, claim the title
with the meaning it is capable of conveying
now-a-days. But so far from any such thing
as that. I could scarcely presume to claim such
ti title in its most humble signification.”
“ Come now, none of your fishing for com
pliments. Dont you suppose I have seen your
poet -y ? And I declare t think it beautiful.
From the very moment I read it I became in
terested in your history.”
‘ This is too flattering,” said I “ & yet there
is too much seeming good will and lovely mo
tive about your countenance ever to deceive.
You could not surely ever encourage a wrong
impression, made upon the heart of any one in
your favor, when you knew it would boa cause
of unhappines to him.”
“ Never, never.”
“ Then R ” said I familiarly, “from
this moment I am proud to call you a friend.
It is not at all probable in the nature of the
case that we can be more than friends. But
if you have become the least interested in my
history and destiny, I hope ever to cherish for
you the firm and unshaken affection of a broth
er.”
Thus the evening passed away in one of
the most interesting conversation in which I
had ever engaged. And when the hour for
parting arrived I felt sorry that I could not al
ways be permitted to remain in the company
of one so intellectual and so beautiful. Yeti
was consoled at the gentle words she spoke
when I squeesed her hand as sentimentally as
1 could & bade her “ good night/’ she respond
ed by saying “ you must call to-morrow.”
As the reader may easily immagw?e, it was
•with a fluttering heart I made my way nC'. rnG '
ward that evening, as those words chimed in
upon my feelings rather discordantly ’with the
coquette flirtation &c. I
however, slept sweetly and dreamed of the
bright eyed maid, who for the present at least,
formed the focus of my admiration ; though I
must again aver that I did not feel that soft
pursuasion of the heart for her, which I am in
duced to believe one who is sadly smitten by
Jove entertains for the object of his affection.
[to be contioued,]
Communicated.
Mr. Editor: —Enclosed you will find a
printed column, cut from a paper left in the bar
room of the Central Hotel, by an intelligent
looking wolverine stage-passenger on the way
toNcw-lork. It prefers claims which may
meet with some consideration, should they
reach their destination. D.
From the Wisconsin Cross-Bow.
The Government of the United States thro’
the information of some of its agents last win
ter, became jealous of some negotiations which
were pending between the British fur-traders
and the Indians on our frontiers. With char
acteristic vigilence and secrecy, an espionage
was immediately established to ascertain the
nature of it. The cautious manner in which
the matter was conducted, rendered all the ef
forts of our agents unavailing. Two of the
head warriors were preparing to leave for Cana
da, in company with Mr. John Bull (of the
house of Bull, Beaverskin &co.) when our
agent, suspecting that it was intended to excite
the Indians to hostility, and retaliate on us, for
the recruting operations of the Canadian reb
els, proceeded to arrest the whole party. Our
citizens became alarmed, as well on account
of an Indian war, as the prospect of an irrup
t.on of the amicable relations existing between
the United States and Great Britain. The
agents proceeded forthwith to tl)e Capitol with
the prisoners. The alarm and excitement be
came so intense that Capt. Peas, (house of Peas.
Pork and Hominy,) extensively engaged in the
fur-trade, left at the same time, with them.—
Wc have just received hv express from the
capitol, a note from him stating that the paper
below is a copy of all found in the possession
of the prisoners. We hope our community
will regain its tranquility soon, as our govern
ment is watchful and there apjiears to be no
hostility on the face of the document.
To Victoria, head squaw of the British tribe:
Sister!—Tl»e voice of fi tme has crossed the
great waters, and whispered your name to the
leaves of the forest. The soft winds of the
evening heard tlie secret and sings it in our
wigwam.
Si tir! lluggoe-Nuflee is a great warrior—
his bed is made of the seal]is of his enemies—
they tremble and fly to the great cane-brakes
when they iiear his name—his talk dwells in
the ears of his people and they say ‘it is good.’
Sister! He sends his pipe to you to smoke
—he wants you to hear his talk—the great
Breath maker sent for his squaw to go to tlie
hunting grounds of tlie red warrior, many
moons ago : when lie comes to his wigwam
with the scalps of his enemies, tlie re is no one
to laugh with him : when he kills tlie great
buffaloe and brings the meat to his fire, there
is no one to roast it.
Sister! Let his talk hang in your ears : the
winds say that the great white brave Welling
ton, wants you to boil his sofkec : he is too
old; he will soon follow the steps of his first j
squaw to the hunting grounds of the white
braves and leave you to throw your hair to the J
winds. Listen to me! he is a dog: Huflec-!
Nuggee has waited to hear his warhoop : he
sent tlie war paint to the white brave, and he
fled from it: let your old women put frocks
on him, "and mock at him.
Sister ! Let your head warriors and proph
ets talk in the council house : let the speech of
the smoking Sachems die in the air: their
tongues are thick, and hang out like the tongue
of the tired buffaloe: they say yaw! yaw!
they drink the strong water and-cat too much :
they are ton fat: they are snails in the war
path : let them get squaws from their own
tribe to make tamfull-ah : they have sent to
you to give back the beads and feathers which
their fathers gave to your mother: their bean
fields arc very small: they are Terrapins.
Sister! Huflee-Nuggee is the great elk of
the woods : his path is very' long: he hears
much : he hears that a tribe near you, eat frogs!
If this is a true talk, let yofftalking paper tell
him, Huflee-Nuggee is sorry for the poor and
hungry : his hand is open : he is very' sorry for
the poor sachem : he will send him some bear
meat.
Sister ! the talk carriers of Ilnffec-Nuggce
will give you a blanket and some beads : the
scat of the squaw is empty in his wigwam : he
wants you to wait on him and make moccasins
in the great hunting grounds of the red war
rior. his
IIUFFEE X NUGGEE.MIKO.
talk mark,
f his 'j
8 Big X Wolf,
| talk mark. I Talk-Carriers.
> Snake X Killer. (
v talk mark. j
For the Southern Post.
THE PEASANT’S SONU.
Come ! while the moon-beams silv’ry light,
O’er every landscape plays ;
Come ! v.'bile the gem’s of Spring’s soft night
In distant opauty blaze.
Come! whiL the thoughts of care are gone,
In evening’s gentle hour;
Come ! with thy beauty to adorn
Thy lover’s lonely bow’r.
The grave is hush’d to silence, love,
The breese forgets to roam ;
The dew-drop gathers from above,
Then to my bower come !
To thee I turn with fondest love,
And gaze with raptur’d eye ;
I know my thoughts will never rove,
When thy sweet form is nigh.
I’m lonely in the halls of mirth,—
In beauty’s bright array;
All else is sad, but thee, on earth,
Then, oh, no longer stay.
Now ! for the stars sing nuptial strains,
With sweet enchanting pow’r;
And burn in those far distant plains,
To grace a bridal hour. W,
JVarrenton, Georgia.
For the Southern Post
ODE TO SPRING.
Bright season of Hope, and of pleasure,
And every warm thrill of the heart;
When the rose-bud expands its lov’d treasure,
And its sweets to the senses impart:
When we grasp gentle fancy’s bright flowers,
Admiring each gay tinted beam ;
When the Tapture of love-breathing hours
Sheds o’er us a hallowed gleam.
How pleasing the theme-
To dwell on its joys ;
Yet how like the dream
Which sunlight destroys.
And leaves us to dwell o’er the past,
Chill’d by the cold rigour of time ;
As clouds sweep before the keen blast,
Thus tlie bosom oft sighs o’er its prime.
o^7*.
Cornmnnii ated.
EXTRACT.
There is a protean variety in the deport
ment of some women that is tlie foundation of
the interest we feel in them. A fluctuating
contrast of traits, that keep men pendulating
between an apotheosis and commiseration:
for when we swing almost to the point of idola
try', wc are suddenly cl roped down by' some
I farcical “ contre-temps” of character, to the
1 ridiculous. The zealot ojiens his mouth to
j say “ great is Diana of Ephesus,” and he clos
! es it with an apostrophic “ pshaw!”
J But the histrionics of an artful coquette
( rarely elevate her to this mythology' of the
j h 3a: t, except with a Neophite. Men of tal
' cuts soon look upon her as a cow’s horn that
| sounds the same palindromic loot-toot-tool,
whether a prince or a pedlar blows it. The
most elevated passion, and ai dent devotion of
men are apt to concentrate in a beautiful, in
nocent and pious girl,—who fears nothing, be
cause she suspects nothing; who dreads no
evil because she wills none. Her beauty is of
the earth and demands affection ; her inno
cence is confiding, and requires protection, and
her piety is celestial and inspires devotion.
When such a divinity is'interculated to preside
over the fortunes and destiny of a worshipper,
affection gathers flowers to throw on the altar
of devotion.
MSS. OF A LAWYER.
Communicated.
A fragment found on a Student's table after a
midnight revel.
BOWL OF PUNCH.
More of philosophy about him, must that
man have, than ever barricaded the feelings of
the coldest stoic, who can resist thee, thou bright
and glorious goblet! Sparkling in efferves
encc, the lips of the Gods would he blessed by
thy touch, and thy bubbling fountains would stir
tip to wanton desire, tlie chaste spirit of Lu
crctia!
Who dares vouch thee a traitor to love when
Eros leaps half formed from thy creations ?
Who records thee an enemy to the fairy Nine,
when childlike poetry pours forth her melody
of enchantment lispingly from thy ruby lips ;
when inspiration like anew birth, comes laugh
ing in song and sweet echo, catching up the
notes, bears them to the gates of Paradise as
a last hope to unbar its portals for the entrance
of the voluptuary !
Quaff deep—for ye drink in song that may
melt down stoicism to passion burnished in the
furnace of feeling, and soften Religion herself
into the charity of forgiveness! On, on
whirls the dizzy brain, while Imagination beau
tiful in her madness, wildly revels amid her
gorgeous, aye, and voluptuous transfigurations.
On, on in their fiery track leaps tho stormy
elements of tho passions, till the soul blazing
up through tho dark chaos of its intellectual ex
istence,fitfully glares upon the wrcakingjvictims
of its passionate indulgence, and then sinks
back again into oblivious forgetfulness !
But who will refuse to quench their thirst at
thy fountain, thou sparkling gift of the Gods ?
Oil, for the voice of the classic bacchanalian,
to annul thee in imperishable song. He dip
ped his pen into thy flowing bowl, and eternal
arc the relics of bis inspiration ! Forward to all
time, present to all memory, back to all beauty,
is the name of Flaccus. With him, and thro’
him, shalt thou live ; dear to all who know thee,
oblivious Goblet.
To the poor thou hast given wealth ; to the
ambitious hope ; to old age youth ; to poetry
the “ prophet’s fire,” and to passion the volup
tuousness of Love.
Beam on, then, thy torch shall light up the
stricken heart, and thy bubbling foam reflect its
radiance upon the gloomy past, the doubtful
future and the troubled present. Wc hail thee
as thou art, an clixer to bathe the mind in Ely
sian bliss, and to blot out in thy fairy ministra
tion the rugged and care-wrinkling ills of poor
humanity.
Along —deep, pull at thee, then, thou tempt
er of the poor man, anti priest of the proud,
that my soul may learn the store, the Gods
have provided me.
“Fill the goblet again, for I never before
Felt ihe glow which now gladdens my heart to its core;
Let us drink! —who would not?—-since through life’s
varied round
In the goblet alone no deception is found.”
A CURIOSITY.
The follwing sermon was preached by Par
son Hyperdines, made at the command of cer
tain thieves, after they had robbed him, beside
Harthrow, in Hampshire, in the fields, and
spoke in their presence.
“ I greatly marvel that any man will pre
sume to dispraise you thieves ; and think the
doer thereof worthy of death, considering that
it is a thing cometh near unto virtue; being
used by many in all conn trie?, and comman
ded and allowed of by God himself. Such
things, perhaps, 1 cannot compendiously show
unto you at so short a warning and in such
sharp weather; hut I shall desire you, gentle
audience of thieves to take in good part these
things which at present come to my mind, not
misdoubting, hut that you, of your good knowl
edge, are able to add much more unto this
which I shall first utter unto you. First, forti
tude and stoutness of courage, and also bold
ness of mind, is commended by some men to
he virtuous, which being granted, who is it then
J that will not judge thievs to he virtuous! for
: they he of all men most stout, hardy, and most
' wihout fear. Sothievrv is a tiling most usual
among all men ; for not only you that be here
present, but many others in divers places, both
men, women and children, rich and poor, are
daily ol this faculty, as the hangman of Tyburn
can testify, and that is allowed of by God him
selftis is evident from the following texts of
scripture; for if you look into the
of the Bible, you shall find that the thieves have
been beloved of God; for Jacob, when he
came out of Mespotamia did steal his uncle
Laban’s kid; the same Jacob did steal his
brother Esau’s blessing, and yet God said, ‘ I
have chosen Jacob,and refused Esau.’
The children of Israel, when they came out
of Egypt, did steal the Egyptian’s jewels of
silver and gold, & God commanded them so to
do. David, in the days of Lebiathar, the high
priest, did come into the temple and did steal
the hallowed bread, and yet God said, ‘David
is a man after my own heart.’ Christ him
self, when he was here on the earth, did take
an ass and a eo!t that was none of his, and you
know that God said ofiiim, ‘this is my beloved
son, in whom lam well pleased.’ Thus you
see, that God delighied in thieves.
But most of all I marvel that men despise
you thieves ; whereas, in all points, almost, you
are like unto Christ Himself. For Christ had
no dwelling place ; no more have you. Christ
went from town to town ; and so do you.—
Christ was hated of all men, saving his friends ;
and so are you. Christ was laid wait upon in
many places; and so are you. Chiist at the
length was caught; and so shall you lie. lle
was condemned ; and so shall you lie. He
was hanged ; and so shall you be. He went
down to hell; and so shall you do. Marry, in
the one thing you differ from him ; for he arose
again and ascended into heaven ; and so shall
you never do, without God’s great mercy,
which I pray God grant you. Tobias was
brought home to t!:c Prince, but ordered back,
whom, with the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
lie all honor and glory for ever and ever.—
Amen.
Thus the sermon being ended, they gave
him his money again that they took from him,
as also two shillings to drink for his sermon.
Os the American Senate, Miss Martineau
says :—“ The American Senate is a most im
posing assemblage. When I first entered it,
I thought I never saw a finer set of heads than
the forty-six before my eyes ; —-two only being
absent, and the Union then consisting of twen
ty-four States. Mr. Calhoun’s countenance
first fixed my attention ; the splend'd eye, the
straight forehead, surmounted by a load of still',
upright, dark hair; the stern brow ; the inflexi
ble mouth -it is one one of the most remark
able heads in the country. Next to him sat
his colleague, Mr. Preston, in singular contrast,
—stout in person, with a round, ruddy, good
humored face, large blue eyes, and a wig, or
ange to-day, brown yesterday, and golden to
morrow. Near them sat Col. Benton, a tem
porary people’s man, remarkable chiefly for
liis pomposity. He sat swelling amidst his
piles of papers and books, looking like a be
ing designed by nature to be a good humored
barber or inn-keeper, but forced by fate to
make himself into a mock-heroic senator. Op
posite sat the trancendant Webster, with his
square forehead and cavernous eyes ; and be
hind him the homely Clay, with the face and
figure of a farmer, but something of the air of
a divine, from his hair being combed straight
back from his temples. Near them sat Souh
ard and Porter ; tlie former astute and rapid in
countcnauee and gesture ; tho latter strangely
mingling a boyish fun and lightness of manner
and glance, with the sobriety suitable to the
judge and the senator. Ilis keen eye takes in
every thing that passes; his extraordinary
mouth, with its overhanging lip, has but to un
fold into a smile to win laughter from the sour
est official or demagogue. Then there was
the bright bonhommie of Ewing of Ohio, the
most primativc looking of senators; and the
benign, religious gravity of Frelinghuyscn;
the gentlemanly air of Buchanan, the shrewd
ness of Poindexter; the somewhat melancho
ly simplicity of Silsbee, —all these, and many
others, were striking; and for nothing more
than their total unlikeness to each other. No
English person who has not travelled over half
the world, can form an idea of such differences
among men forming one assembly for the same
purposes, and speaking the same language.
Some were descended from Dutch farmers,
some from French hugenots, some from Scotch
puritans, some from English cavaliers, some
from Irish chieftains- They were brought to
gether out of law courts, sugar fields, mer
chant’s stores, mountain farms, forests and
prairies. The stamp of originality was im
pressed on every one, and inspired a deep in
voluntary respect. I have seen no assembly
of chosen men, and no company of the high
born, invested with the antique dignities of an
antique realm, half so imposing to the imagin
ation as this collection of stout-souled, full
grown original men, brought together on the
ground of their supposed sufficiency, to work
out tlie will of their diverse constituents.’*
Goethe, in his Wilhelm Meister, says—
Man’s highest merit always is as much as pos
sible to be ruled by them. Life lies before ns
as a huge quarry lies before the architect; he
deserves not the name of architect, except when
out of this fortuitous mass, he can combine
with the greatset economy, suitableness and
durability, some form, the pattern of which ori
ginated in his spirit,”
I o i
MODERN DEFINITIONS,
Not found in any of the Ancient Dictionaries.
Hard Times —Sitting on a cold grindstone
and reading the President’s Message.
Love —A little world within itself, intimate,
ly connected with shovel and tongs.
Progress of Time —A pcdler going through
the land with wooden clocks.
A Working Man —A loafer filled with now
made beer.
Genteel Society —A place where the rake
is honored, and moralist condemned.
Politician —A fellow that culls all his know!,
edge from borrowed newspapers.
Rigid Justice —Juror on a murder enco
fast asleep.
Friend —One who takes your money and
then turns you out of doors.
Poetry —A bottle of ink thrown at a sheet
of foolscap.
Patriot —A man who has neither property
nor reputation to lose. }
Honesty —Obsolete ; a term formerly used
in the case of a man who had paid for his news,
paper and the coat on his hack.
Independence —Owing fifty thousand dol.
lars. which you never intend to pay.
Livery Stable —A place where you can pnv
a five dollar bill for the privilege of being up
set.
Hard Money —The specie that is lo he buri
ed in the Sub-Treasury dungeons— hard to put
in, and hard to get out.
Lovely Woman —An article manufactured
by milliners—
“ Who wants but little here below,
And wants that little for a show.”
Otivm Cum Dignitate —Living at the ex.
pense of the public, at the State Hotel, Sing
Sing.
Termination of War —Driving the enemy
out of one hammock into another, capturing
an old negro and seriously wounding a
squaw.
Dandy —A thing in pantaloons, with a body
and two arms—a head without brains—tight
hoots—a cane—a white handkerchief-two
broaches, and a ring on his little finger.
Coquette—-A young lady with more beauty
than sense—more accomplishment than learn
ing—more charms of person than graces of
mind—more admirers than friends—more fools
than wise men for attendants.
Credit-*— A wise provision by which consta
bles get a living.
Benevolence- -To take a dollar out of or.o
pocket, and put it into the other.
New Yorker-
For the Southern Post,
LAY OF THE LONE ONE.
I would I were a laughing bird,
To sport from tree to tree,
Unconscious that the toiling herd
Dwelled ’neath yon canopy.
To chirp in yonder wood alone,
And with Zephyrus sigh ;
Or moan with forest’s deep-mouth’d tone.
Nor dream of danger nigh.
Oh, then I’d mount aloft on high,
And scour the desert air;
Or to some distant region fly,
Where none my peace could mar.
My song should greet the morn’s first ray,
And hail the rising sun ;
Then sing to rest the parting day,
And sleep a lonely one.
I would I were a sportive trout,
I’d sail me down the wave ;
Now leaping up the air without,
Now plunging down to lave.
I’d sail me near some pebbly shore.
And gather diamonds there ;
And ne’er yet tired nor give o’er
With gathering treasurer rare.
Or then I’d play along the bank
Beneath the ivy bloom,
That hangs above so rich and rank,
And spreads so soft a gloom.
Then darting through the limpid stream
Back to my min’ral bed,
I’d watch the sun’s last parting beam,
And eve’s bright tint of red.
While stretched along at easy length,
I’d dream of the great deep;
Then swing me on the water’s strength
And softly rocking sleep.
Or else I’d be a dancing fawn,
And skip from hill to hill;
Then play along the flower-girt lawn,
And sip of the christal rill.
Then dart away to my hill-bound home,
And nestle me in the brake ;
And softly rest all sweet and alone,
As yonder plgcid lake.
Nor dream to hear of the hunter’s horn
Shrilling in the morning air i
Or opening cry of the dreadful hound
To startle me from my lair,
Ah ! no, it is not destined me
To bear this lmppy part;
I shall forever lonely be
With a breaking, bursting heart.
No spirit mourns the troubled one
Who daily wastes in sighs;
But lonely spirit thou’lt be borne
Soon homeward to the skies.
No sighing there shall waste away,
That voice formed for song;
But thou shalt sing eternally
In praises loud and long. LLELIN