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ANECDOTE OF LITTLE FATHER ANDREW, (.NO!
MERRY ANDREW.)
A quick presence of mind often rescues t
man from any gross mistake into which he
• f may have unavoidably plunged. As for in
stance : The Little Doctor being to preach
one day in the church of his convent; in order
that no part of his time should go by unoccu
pied, during the prayers, previous to the ser
mon, lie was playing a game at cards in his
room with an inmate; but the bell ringing
for him to mount the pulpit, just as they were
in a warm debate about the hands they held
he said, he could not then stay to decide the
matter, therefore tucked both up in the sleeve
of his gown, for a fair discussion of the matter
after sermon.
The subject of his discourse was, the gen
eral immorality of the times, tlie too great in
diligence of dangerous passions, and partial
larly of gaming, against which he inveighed
with all the warmth and zeal lie was master of;
and both which he could affect to an amazing
degree. But when carried away by the tor
rent'of his declamation, on finding the people
very attentive to him, he raised his hands to
Heaven, to intercede for them, down from his
sleeve, that had been somehow loosened by
the vehemence of his gesticulation, tell the two
hands of cards ; which incident made some
people look with a pious concern.
Tl)e Little Doctor, while others burst into
•an immoderate fit of laughter, stunned for a
moment at so unexpected a disaster in the
midst of a sermon that had gone on efficacious
ly, bethought him of a sudden of a stratagem.
As he espied a young child not far from the
pulpit, he beckoned to it, saying, “ Come hith
er, my dear ; gather up those cards, lying on
the ground, and bring them to me which
the child did. He then asked the name of each
card ; whiclnthc young-one accurately told :
he next questioned it about the Chntechism ;
of which the almost infant was entirely igno
rant. Little Andrew di missed the child, and
looking around the audience, with an air of in
dignation, (secretly triumphing in his heart at
the same time,) he cried aloud, “Wicked fa
thers and motliers, is not this a scandalous,
and a most flagrant proof of what I have ad
vanced, that in this abandoned, this impious
age, nothing is thought of but gaming ? Here
is almost an infant that completely knows eve
ry card in tlie pack, is thoroughly learned in
the devil’s bpok, yet is absolutely ignorant of
ihe book of his salvation ! What early sacri
fices do ye make of the young hearts of your
children to the prince of darkness! Yc more
than parricide parents ! Ye betrayers of their
precious souls to a miserable eternity !” He
kindled so fast, and fired upon the people so ve
hemently, that it alarmed the very faculty ; and
made them depart fully convinced, that what
was in itself an unlucky accident, had been a
powerful premeditated scheme of the preach
er’s, to rebuke their dissoluteness, and bring
them to repentance. In some years after, he
divulged how the fact really happened.
Scots Magazine, 1764.
“Secretaries of Slate, Presidents of the
Council, and Generals of an Army, have
crowds of visitants in a morning, all soliciting
of past promises ; whic li are but a civiler soil
of duns, that lay claim to voluntary debts.
Congreve.
The soul, considered with its Creator, is
like one of those mathematical lines tiiat may
draw nearer to another for all eteunity without
a possibility of touching it; and can there be
a thought so transporting, as to consider our
selves in these perpetual approaches to Him.
who is not only tiie standard of perfection,
but of happiness ! Addison.
Reasons are the pillars of the fabric of a
sermon, but similitudes are the windows which
give the best light. Tne faithful minister
avoids such stories, whose mention may sug
gest bad thoughts to the auditors, and will no!
use a light comparison to make thereof a
grave application, for fear lest his poison go
further than his antidote. Fuller.
Rich people who are covetous, are like the
cypress tree; they may appear well, but are
fruitless; so rich persons have the means to
be generous, yet some are not so, but they
should consider they are only trustees for
what they possess, and should show then
wealth to be more in doing good, than merely
in having it. They should not reserve then
benevolence for purposes after they are dead,
for those who give not till they die, show that
they would not, then if they could keep it any
longer. Bishop Hall. '
Time, which gnaws and diminishes all things
else augments and increaseth benefits; be
•ausc a noble action of liberality, done to a
man of reason, doth grow continually by his
generously t.linking of it, and remembering it.
Rsbelais.
At every j oint that concerns himself, the
irood parishorer turns down a leaf in his
heart; and rcjoiceth that (rod’s word hath
pierced him. as hoping that whilst his soul
smarts it heals. And, as it is no manners for
Si m that hath good venison before him, to ask
whence it came, hut rather fairly to tall to it;
-o hearing an excellent sermon, he never in
quires whence the preacher had it. or whether
it was not before in print, but lulls aboard to
practice it. Fuller.
’Tis a shame when the church itself is a
ccmetcrlum. wherein the living sleep above the
ground, as the dead do beneath it.
Fuller.
True joy is a serene and sober motion : and
they are misearably out that take laughing for
rejoicing : the seat of it is within, and there is
no cheerfulness like the resolutions of a brave
mind, tiiat has fortune under its feet.
Seneca.
Diogenes being asked who were the noblest
[men in the world, replied, those who despise
riches, glory, pleasures, and lastly life; who
overcome the contrary of oil those things,
viz; poverty, infamy, pain, and death, bear
ing them with an undaunted mind. And So
crates. being asked what true nobility was,
answered, temperance of mind and body.
From the Italian.
BIRD-SONGS.
Tlie following written song of the nighting
gale, was made bv a German comjioser from
listening to a bird esteemed a capital singer.
Tiou, tiou tiou tiou
Spc, tiou, sqm.
Tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, fix
Coutio, coutio, courio, coutio,
Tz.u, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzn, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzi
Corror’ tiou, squa—pi pi qui
Zozozozozoz izozozozo zoz* —zeshaoling,
Trissi, tsissi si si si sisisis.
Dzorre, dzorre, dzorre, dzorre, hi.
Tzatu, tza'u, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, dzi.
Dio, dio, dio, dio, dio, dio, dio, dio, dio,
Quio tr rrrrrrrr itz.
A Yankee comjioser not to be out done in
this sjiecics of composition, gives the following
! spirited version of the song of the thrush :
! Cheerily O, cheerily, o—twecdle,0 —twecdle, tweedle, tvveedle;
Pretty Purdy, Pretty Purdy, Pretty Purdy;
See, see, see ! little Jo, little Jo,
Kissing Judy, kissing Judy, kissing Judy!
SCHOOL STATISTICS OF TIIE UNITED STATES.
About one third of a population of a coun
try are between the ages of three and sixteen
or eighteen ; and of course are tlie proper sub
jects for school education,
j In the United States more than four mil
; lions of children ought to be under the influ
! ence of schools.
In Maine the law requires tiiat the inhabit
ants of every town pay annually for the sup
port of schools a sum equal, at least, to 40 cts.
I for every person living in it. That amounts
to about 8120,000. Their cxjienditures are
more than & 140.000.
In New Hampshire, a separate tax of 890,
000 is raised for schools, besides an annual
j appropriation from a tax on bank stock of 89,
000 or 810.000.
In Vermont, more than 850,000 are rais
led for schools from a third percent tax on the
j grand list, and as much more from district tax
es, besides an income of nearly 81,000 from
banks.
In Massachusetts, are nearly 3,000 schools,
sujiported by public taxes and private subscrip
tions. In Boston, the schools contain more
than 12.000 children, at an exjiense of about
8200,000.
In Rnode Island, are about 700 schools, sup.
jiorte tby a legislative appropriation of 810 o>o
annually, by taxes, and by private subscrip
tions.
The Connecticut school fund is about two
millions, hut fails of its desired object. Child
ren in the state, 85,000 ; schools about 1,
500.
In New York are more than 9,000 schools
and over 500.000 children taught in them.—
School fund, $1,700,000; distributed annual
ly, 8100,000, but on the condition that each
town raise by tax, or otherwise, as much as
they receive from the fund. A wise provis
ion.
New Jersey has a fund of 8245,000, and an
annual income of 822,000.
In Pennsylvania, during the Inst year, more
than 250,000 children out of 400,000, were
destitute of school instruction.
Delaware has a school fund of 870,000.
Maryland has a school fund of 875,000, & 1
an income for schools from the banks, which
is divided between the several counties.
V rginia has a fund of 81,533.000, the in
come divided among the counties according
to the white population, and appropriated tj
paying the tuition of poor children, generally
attending jirivate schools.
North Carolina has a fund of $70,000, de
signed for common schools.
South Carolina appropriates $40,000 annu
ally to free schools.
Georgia has a fund of $500,000, and more
than 700 common schools.
Alabama, and most of all the western and
south-western states, are divided into town
ships, six miles square, and each township into
sections one mile square, with one section, the
sixteenth, appropriated to education.
Mississipjii has a fund of $280,000, but it
is not available until it amounts to nearly SSOO.
000.
The Legislature of Louisiana grants to
each parish, or county, in tiiat state, $2 62 1-2
| for each voter, the amount for any other par
ish not to exceed $1,350, nor to fall short of
I SBOO. $40,000 are applied to educatating
the poor.
Tennessee has a school fund of about half
a million, but complaints are made that it is
riot well apjilied.
Kentucky has a fund of $140,000, but a
portion of it has been lost. A report to the
Legislature, from Rev. B. O. Peers, says, that
| no more than one third of the children between
the ages of four and fifteen attend school.
In Ohio, a system of free schools similar to
that of New England is established by law.
In Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri, no Legis
lative measures for the supjiort of schools,
have been adopted. All the schools are sup
! ported by private tuition.
Yet there is something exceedingly solemn
lin the mutability of a name. ’T is indeed a
vapor, which appeareth but for a little season,
and then vanisheth away. I like not this life
afier-death rejiute —this post-mortem vitality.
“ Give it to me, if I deserve it, while the breath
of existence sports in my nostrils; while I
can walk, and hear, and see, and jostle among
men !” Such are my asjiimtions—nmlgre the
littleness oi it. To have antiquaries puzzling
themselves with one’s merits—sujqiosing that
' hcv might reach beyond his sepulture—is to
my mind a dry and arid prospect. One u ants
ito l>e quiet. “To subsist in bones,” saith my
old friend. Sir Thomas Browne, “and to lie
but pyramidally extant, is a fallacy in dura
t on. Vain ashes, which, in the oblivion of
Names, Persons, Times, and Sexes, have found
unto themselves a fruitless continuation, and
only arise unto late posterity, as emblems of
mortal vanities, antidotes of pride. Oblivion
| blindly scattereth her pojijiy, and deals with the
i memory of men, without distinction to mids?
! I lerostratus live , that burnt the temple of Di
ana—he is ahno .t lost, tiiat built it. Time
j hath spared the epitaph of Adrian’s horse—
j confounded that of himself. In vain we com
pute our felicities by the advantage of our good
names, since bad have equal duratfous; and
I iiersites is like to li\o as long as Agamem
non, without tiie favor of the Everlasting Reg
ister. 17ie Canaanitish woman lives more
happily without a name, than Herodius with
one; and who had not rather, liaxc been the I
good thief, than Pilate 1 Who knows wheth
er the best of men be known? Or whethei
there he not more remarkaUe persons beer
forgot, than any tiiat stand remembered in tlie'
known accompt of time?” These be puz
zling queries. Knickerbocker.
There is now in Boston, a female Ouranp
iOt'ing, one of three brought from Borreo, th<
other two having died on the passage. Th
! eldest a male, aged 3, and which died, treate
I this surviving or youngest as a child, and tio
act ons of the latter corresponded. The
ts'ept on each others arms, and the parent fre
quently caressed and kissed its more vouthli
I companion. The latter coughs, cries an
laughs like an infant of three or four year
handles its cup to drink and its knife and fork,
and makes its bed. dresses itself, &c., as a
human creature. The p; enervation of its life
8 imputed to the accidental discovery of its
i penchant for flesh, on which it is fed and grew
fat.
In this ritv, on the 10 h in c t, by tlie Rev. Mr. Brae",
Mr. WILLIAM A. GREEN, to Miss MARIA L.
JACOBS. [The cake duly received.]
NOTICE.
LORCrE r. W AGN< )N is au’liorized to settle the
VI~ unsettled business of W. F. J. IIUEY, late of
this city, deceased. A. S. HUEY
June I<? 34 r
ORIGINAL.
For the Southern Post.
Bob Bartow’s answer to Billy’s 2d letter
Wherein he gives a detail of his journey to Mongol
ry and the Kind of Rail Road he saw there, with his
own escape from the dangers appertaining to thig.
novel kind of travelling.
Dear Cousin Billy:— You tarnal critter
what’s got into-you ? The way you do write
song letters is a caution to sinners. I
that rail road business must have knocked your
ideas ail up in a heap and they is gest be'-ini n
to come out. I’ve beam say that travliu im.
proves the mind, and gess as how it has y ourn!
But taut tne way with me ; I went all the way
to Montgomery once, and the stage upsot with
me and knocked all tlie ideas but one out of
my noddle, and that was, that if ever I travel,
led agin, I gessed I stay at hum. By-the-bv,
Rill, 1 gess I got a ride on the rail road that
tune, and if we didn’t have any locomotions
we had motions enough, and if w e didn’t have
1 eight-wheeled cars, we had plenty of steam
jandfire. There was ten on us in the stage
and each one had a bottle of the
Lite and a bunch of long nines, (taikin of
j long nines, I’m sorry you lost them three tiirip.
In-hundred segars down at Charleston.) You
talk a good deal about your rail road, but it its
|the kind of rail road l seed down at Mont,
gomery, I shouldn’t fancy travel in in that way.
You see they got a feller what had been bord
in atti:c Montgomery Hall and payin for it,
by borrow in money out of other folkses pock
ets and trunks. Well, some how or other,
the folks got a notion that that way of bor
rowin wasn’t fair; so they said they gest give
him a ride on the rail road. Well, I thought I
would gest go and see what that ment. So
they gctlicrcd an awful big crowd and takes
the feller and carries him out into the street
and slijis a rail between his legs, and liistshira
upon their sholders. Tiie feller he hollered,
and the rail road folks they hollered ; they'd
shake him off one side, and they’d shake him
on tlie other ; and 1 reckon their internal im.
jirovements didn’t agree with his external ones,
for twasn’t long afore he fainted, and then they
carried him to ti.c pump and played upon him,
untill, I gess they coolil his ambition fortrans.
faring other folkses property. 1 steps up to
a chaji, ses 1, “Mr., is that what they call a
railroad?” ses he, “yes; would you like to
ride on it ?” ses I, “no I thank you,” ses lie,
“I gess you’d better,” and with that he sings
out, “ here’s a chap wants to ride on the rail
road.” Then the crowd sets up a shout that
made me jump clere out of my shoes. I started
rite strait off and they arter me: my hair
stuck strait out' behind, my body 'caned for.
ward, my arms goin like tiie pendlum to a
clock, only somethin faster, my legs stretched
until they bust my pantaloons all to pieces;
the rail road folks they was do e arter me, hob
lerin, catch him—shoot him—bowie him—
knock him down. I run down one alley and
up another; directly up jumps two or three
big dogs and tuck arter me, one caught me by
ti;e heel and pulled my stock in off, another
caught my coat tail and tore it off. and another
j carried awy the scat of my breeches with a
jiart of irty own seat, which hurt so, that I
dapped both hands on tiie effected j'art and
holloed murder, and running round tlie cor
ner fell into an old seder half full of water. I
kept rnily still till 1 heard cm all go past, then
1 crawled out and starts up the alloy towards
the tavern. Presently I secs someone com
n, and thinkin it might be one of the railroad
folks, I gits into a dark coiner. When the
:hap come close to where l was, he stopped,
m I staggerin up aginst the house, he com.
neneed taikin to himself sorter this fashion:
“Taut no use try in to walk straight in this
vorld. Here I’ve been tryin to walk straight
or half an hour, but tant no use—when the
ecollections of iny misfortunes conics over
ne, they always staggers me. Yes, tis mis
irtunes what keeps men from walkin straight
i tiie world. There, row, (trying to walk
traight) you sec taut no use—l beg your par.
Jon, (liickup) taut my fault that 1 run agin
you, tis my troubles what causes me to twad.
die. There goes my bran new hat, what I
bought seckoud-handed out of a broker’s shop
for fifty cents, smash into a gism aginst tint
[tost —hut tant no use talkiti to posts —posts
hunt got no sense no how—l wish 1 was a
post! if I couldn’t walk straight, 1 could stand
stright—then a post hant got no troubles on
its mind —it stands there so independent like—
twouldu’t git out of the way if the king was
to come along—then posts never says nothin,
cause why, they I ant got nothin to say—you
may say what you please to them, you cant
hurt their feel ins—cause they hant got no feel
ins—you may hit them, they won’t fall down