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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