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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