Newspaper Page Text
THE WORLD WS LITE IX.
Courts are generally dull places. Etiquette
is fatal to candor, and candor is the mother
of wit. But clever things transpire now and
tlieu. When the late Duke de Ridielicu,
wiio, during his emigration, had been for some
years Governor of Odessa, was appointed
I’rimc Minister by Louis XVIH. y someone
happened to ask Talleyrand at the Tuilleries,
« What qualities could have raised tlic Duke
to that high situation?” “Qualities!” said
the Ex-Minister with a sneer, “ Oh he knows
a great deal about Odessa.” A bon mot in
exactly the same spirit lias been dying about
tlie Court on Lord Durham’s appointment to
Canada. This little lord is certainly an ex
traordinary instance of the whimsicality with
which Fortune sometimes showers lier favors
on tlie smallest of mankind. If bitterness and
blundering, narrow ability, and mushroom
pride, Radicalism when out of power, and in
dole nee when in, could make a choice ridieu
lous, it was in the choice which appointed
Iyord Durham to play the dictator, and restore
j>eacc to Canada. Someone at Court the
other day asked, “ What possible merits in
Lord Durham could have justified the appoint
ment ?” “ Oh,” was the answer, “he has
l>ccn just two years in Russia, and he is har
dened to a cold climate.”
William IV. sometimes had the happy art
of saying tlie most eccentric things with tlie
most amusing simplicity. On Talleyrand’s
first coming over as ambassador he was one
day dining at St. James’s with most of the so.
reign ambassadors, when the King, after con
versing on some indifferent topics, suddenly
turned, and asked what was the last news of
Casimir Perier, tlie Prime Minister of France,
wlio had been siezed with the cholera. “He
is either dead or dying,” said the ambassador,
in his sepulchral tone. “Ha !” said the King
in one of his fits of abstraction, “ very unfortu
nate ; a great man and an honest one; tlie
only honest statesman in France dead ! —the
only man capable of ruling such a pack of san
guinary rogues; is it not so ?” turning to a
foreign diplomatist at his side. The diploma
tist, much embarrassed, looked unutterable
things, and muttered unintelligible ones. All
tlie ambassadors, not knowing where else to
look, looked into their plates, and could scarce
ly restrain their laughter. Talleyrand alone
applied himself vigorously to his soup. He had
been in tlie habit of swallowing Royal com
pliments, and tlie practice was useful to him on
this occasion—he never moved a muscle.
It was said of this imperturbable Minister,
that if a man were kicking him behind as he
was speaking to you, you would never know
it by a change of his visage.
Perhaps of all the beings that walk the earth
the German has the least sensibility. He was
intended for an honest, plodding, pains-taking,
creature, and such he is, when he follows com
mon sense and obeys the original law of his
being.
But the affectation of French liveliness and
Italian sensibility has the effect on the poor
Teuton of rendering him irresistibly ridiculous.
Having no faculty of either graceful mirth or
poetic feeling in himself, he always overstrains
the mark in both, and contrives to exhibit him
self either tlie mountebank or tlie maniac.
On Sontng’s first successes in Berlin, the
whole capital took to madness, as the happiest
mode of proving their sense of musical per
lection. Sontng was certainly a pleasing
singer, with remarkable facility of voice, though
feeble in tone, and with neitherjjbeauty of per
son nor elegance of acting to recommend
her. But even this was enough to set the
phlegm of the German in an uproar, and all
the yellow moustaches of that bristled race
were convulsed with ecstacy. Some of their
displays of this rapture were happily expres
sive of tlie delicacy of their tastes. We are
told that a party of amateurs, especial admirers
of the lady’s talent, purchased from her ser
vant a pair of her cast off shoes, in which they
actually drank her health in nightly, until this
singular drinking implement would hold out
no longer. Whether the liquor were wine, or,
ns is more probable, beer, the anecdote, being
one of a thousand of similar displays, is expres
sive. Blackwood.
UTILITT OF THE NEWSPAPER PRESS.
S[)eech of Mr. Watts at the Newspaper Be
nevolent Association Dinner: “ The wide dif
fusion of newspapers throughout this great
empire, sufficiently shows the general estima
tion in which they are held. To many per
sons, indeed, a newspaper has become almost
one of the necessaries of life. What a dull
day would that be, especially in the metropolis,
on which, owing to some combination of cir
cumstances, not a single newspaper were to
make its appearance. (A laugh and cheers.)
How many derive their own information and
amusement—how many derive the means of
informing and amusing other’s solely from the
newspaper. (Hear, hear.) Does a politi
cian wish to know the state of Canada, or
Spain, or the proceedings in the houses of Par
liament ? He reads the newspaper. (Ap
plause.) Does a naval or military officer de
sire to learn where our regiments or men of
war are stationed ? He reads tlie newspaper.
(Renewed applause.) Is a commercial man
anxious about the arrivals at the outports, or a
monied man about the price of stocks ? (A
laugh.) He reads the newspaper. (Cheers.)
Is a lover of the fine arts, or the drama, or of
the “concord of sweet sounds”—(much cheer
ing) eager for information respecting the ex
hibition, the theatre, or the concert room ? He
reads the newspaper. (Cheers.) Are the
ladies—God bless them ! —(long continued
cheers) —are the ladies curious to ascertain the
fashionable parties of tlie week ? Thev read
the newspa|ier. (Laughter and cheers.) In
short, almost every human being whocan read
at all, reads the newspaper. (Renewed laugh
ter and cheers.) Nay, in Ireland, unless my
highly gifted and witty friend, Lover, be mis
taken, the very foxes read the newspaper—
(great laughter)— 4 for how else,’ says a sly
old reynard, in one of Mr. Lover’s admirable
tales, 4 how else should we know where the
hounds are to meet ?”—(Shouts of laughter
and cheers.) x
He who is master of the fittest moment to
crush his enemy, and magnanimously neglects
it, is horn to be a conqueror.
From the AagoaHl Mirror.
THE MANIAC LOVERS.
IMITATION OF BYRON’S DREAM.
BY E. M. PENDLETON, M. D.
The moon was shining out from heaven as pure
And bright as ocean’s crystal wave, when th’ wind*
Are hushed and th’ sun shines down with silvery light
Upon her placid bosom ; and the stars were faint
Though glaring with the ravs of distant suns
In other systems. All was as calm and pure
In the wide world around as the holy breath
Os innocence, ’mid the soft, 9ilent sleep
Os some sweet babe, whose dreams are full of heaven.
Beside a window, in a princely hall.
Two youthful beings sat, and they looked out
Upon the moon swimming in waves oflight
Which the sun threw back i* the tipper skies.
Till the lustre of their own bright eye* seemed lo9t
In the silvery beams around. And their lips
Were mute a9 the nni«e!ess zephyr which so gaily played
With the cur's that hung round the crimson cheeks
Os that fair lady, beside whose lovely form
Sat a youth of manlv brow. And oft his eyes
Were drawn from the ravished gaze of the moon
To look upon that beauteous face, which formed
T!»e centre of his inmost thoughts; and long
He gazed upon her bright blue eyes, and all
That made her lovely, till a sigh escaped
Her lips which spoke unutterable things.
And then she turned her lust’rous sun-lit eyes
Upon the youth, hut as their glances met
There came a crimson mantling o’er her cheeks
Like the first blushes of the early morn
Up in the star-lit sky; and her ruby lips
Were tremulous with some wild emotion.
Which till now she ne’er had felt, and there came
Unconscious to her aid a long, long breath,
And thev spoke in soothed tones of days
Long since gone hv, and happy hours to come,
Till each to each declared their mutual love.
44 A change came o’er the spirit of my dream,”
And those fond hearts were severed by the blight
Os wintry breath, which fell upon their hopes
And withered all. I saw them as they stood
One lovely summer’s eve in that same spot,
With the clear light of Cynthia shining on them.
Her heart heat high and proudly as she cast
A I'jok of disaffection and revealed
The sad emotions of an inward pride.
There was a struggle in that breast, unfclt
By myriads of the heartless race of men,
Known only by the few who love but once,
And then love on unchanging through all time.
Atid yet, she frowned upon the youth whose cheek
VVas bleached and pale, as a marble monument.
But in that frown a look of pity beamed
And the bright crystal tear stood in her eye
And told a secret she was loth to own.
The youth was sad, and from his quivering lips
There fell soft words of firm entreaty, till
The fire of anguish on his fair one’s cheek
Had fled, and left no sign of injured pride
Save the cold look of heartless apathy.
’Twas then lie felt remorse, and then his breast
Heaved like the waves of ocean, tempest tossed
By w ild contrary winds; and his eyes
Were fixed in keen despair, upon the one he loved,
Beaming unearthly fire. He grasped her hand
And whispered— 14 never, denrest, never, O,
Farewell!” He fled that cloistered hall; and she
Who made him what he was, a ruined soul, *
Slept not that night; but sighs of bitter grief
Disturbed her spirit’s rest, and burning tears
Ran heedless down her feverish cheeks, and kissed
The flowing curls of her dishelled hair.
Most bitterly, as if they felt her woe.
** A change came o’er the spirit of my dream.”
Long many moons had come, and waxed and waned,
And passed away again, like some wild dream ;
And that proud youth had gone to other climes
And mingled in the busy world of strife
To drown his grief. His soul quaffed deepest draughts
Os thought at the Pyerean fount, and he
Who bowed before at woman’s lovely shrine
Now worshipped in ambition’s sane, and won
A circling Wreath of glory for his brow.
From the two shores, there sprang paens of praise,
And raptured million’s felt the new-born fire
Os his mighty genius and adored his name ;
Yet she far off, the lady of his heart.
In anguish pined ; till a wild feeling came
Os frenzy and despair o’er her sad heart,
An 1 she relinquished home and friends and all,
And those bright eyes and cherry lips to one
She never loved, a id who cared not foi her
Save the low cravings of a base desire,
Too soon, alas, forgot, when once obtained.
“ A change came o’er the spirit of nty dream.”
There was the sound of music and wild mirth
In that old hall where oft the lovers met,
And the tread of feet in the frantic dance,
And the burst of merriment rang round again,
Till the full orbed moon had risen high in heaven,
But ’mid that festive scene one soul was sad,
And a feint, sickly feeling came oft times
O’er her full heart, like the dreadful thought of death.
She hung upon the arin of one whose look
Was hateful to her; and her lips were mute
’ And trembled sadly when the so'enin vow
Os Hymen was performed ! O G.td ! what scenes
Os bitter anguish started on her brain !
The dreams of buried years, and the fresh thought
Os oar she loved, who yet in memory's halls
Stood in his noblest attitude, the great,
The brave, the good. The voice of mirth was hushed,
And tramp of feet was heard along the walk
Most hurriedly, and soon a gentle tap
At the castle gate, and one of lofty step
And a high bearing mingled with that throng.
His eyes were wandering wildly round the hall,
And seemed insatiate; yet that pafobride
Had caught his glance, and looked with manic gaze
Upon his noble form. A wild, wild shriek
Was all she uttered, and then a faintish cry,
“ O take him, take him from tne and buck she sank
Into the arms of her affianced lord.
And all the word went whirling round and round
To her distracted view, til! gloomy clouds
Enveloped every sense in ntenlal night.
44 A change came o’er the spirit of my dream.”
There was a lofty castle ’mid the hum
Os a vast city, where the maniac mind.
Lost to the world, and all that made it sad
Could steep its thoughts in that best opiate
| Which nature gives, untroubled sleep ; and cease
i To know it ever lived. In a lone cell,
I Dark as the twilight hour, where glaring day
Ne’er entered with his magic torch, sat one
Os ruined mind. Despair was on his brow
Graved in furrows with an iron pen,
j And his unearthly eye wag full of fire
Like that winch meteors, in erratic flight.
Throw out against the heavens, —wild, glaring, and
Inconstant as the fickle wind. Otic time
A gleam of peaceful light shot on his brow,
And a faint smile passed quickly o'er his lips
Like sunshine chased between wto flying clouds
Over a harvest field. It was the charm
j Os a wild voice falling on his ear,
1 Like plaintive melody at eventide
j From mountain shepherd’s lute, so mildly sott,
i So tremulous, so sweet. It brought to view
j The imagery of other years, and one
it Whose form was rife and bright upon hie heart,
And the old hall, and castle-gate, and moon,
An<l twinkling gems of nigh', all, all as fresh
And vivid to his maniac mind, as if they yet
Were beaming on his eye. -It was the voice
Os her he loved, that much affected bride,
Who fell o'erpowered on that fatal eve
At the sight of hitn ; and never more had joy
Or intellect upon her brow; but ail
Amid the wide earth was a dark, dark wastt
Like the wild vagaries of unreal life.
My dream was o'er, and reason came again ;
Methottght it strange, that two sueh ones could love
So faithfully and never wed—that cold
Unfeeling pride should ever have dethroned
That first devoted feeling of the heart
And driven both to madness, so unreal.
But such is human life, and such the end
Os that wild dreatn, which startles even now
The strangest b e ings of iny heart, and makes
The world and all pass on before my view
Like the false notion of some fanciful tiring,
Which never was, hut strangely seems to be.
l l’arrenton, Jane 2, l°3d.
5Cr We direct the attention of our business friends
and readers to the following, they will find that it con*
taius much truth, as well as much philosophy :
PHILOSOPHY OF ADVERTISING.
It may be worth while to communicate to
voting tradesmen the ideas of an old one on
this subject; they are simply and briefly as
follows. The first utility of frequent and re
gular advertising consists in this, there is at
all times a large class of persons, both in coun
try and in town, who have no fixed places for
the purchase of certain necessary articles, and
are ready to be swayed and drawn towards
any particular place which is earnestly brought
under their notice. Indifferent to all, they
yield without hesitation to the first who asks.
Then in the country, a considerable number
of persons who wish a supply of the articles
advertised, and do not know of any particular
place where it is to be got, being thus furnish
ed with the address of a person who can sup
ply them, naturally open a communication
with that address, which, perhaps, leads to
much ulterior business. People in the coun
try are also more liable to be favorably im
pressed by the frequent sight of a name in the
newspapers. The advertising party acquires
distinction in their eyes, and thus they are led,
in making a choice, to prefer him. But by
far the most important effect of advertising
is one of an indirect nature—it conveys the
impression that the party —pretending or not
prelending—quackish or not quackish—is
anxious for business. One who is anxious for
business is unavoidably supposed to he an in
dustrious, attentive, civil person, who keeps the
best of articles at the cheapest rate, does every
thing in the neatest and most tradesmanlike
manner, and in general uses every expedient
to gratify and attach customers. People, of
course, like to purchase under these circum.
stances, and the system of advertising assur
ing them that such circumstances exist at this
particular shop, they select it accordingly.
Such are the opinions of the old tradesman
alluded to, and they are certainly supported
by fact; for where ever an extensive or regu
lar system of advertising is practised, and no
back-drawing or unconquerable circumstances
exist, it is usually seen to be attended with a
considerable share of excess. One feature in
the philosophy of the subject must be carefully
attended to. A faint and unfrequent system
of advertising does not succeed even in pro
jmrtion, “ Drink deep or taste not the Pierian
spring.”
ECONOMY TAUGHT BY EXAMPLE.
We find the following very sensible arti
cle in a Southern paper. We most sincere
ly hope that a stern necessity did not exer
cise its iron will on the patriotic resolve of
the writer:
“ It is estimated, that from the five Southern
States, Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama, Geor
gia and South Carolina, fifty thousand persons
travel northward every summer for the pur
poses of recreation and pleasure. To set
down the travelling and incidental expenses of
this army of tourists at five hundred dollars
a head, would be a moderate estimate. Many
of them, without question, spend their one and
two thousands. Add to this, five hundred
dollars a head laid out in purchases of various
kinds, and we have the sum of forty millions
of dollars disbursed every year at the North by
the travelling gentry from the South. Now,
if this immense treasure could for one year he
applied to the liquidation of Southern debts,
instead of the purchase of Northern pleasure,
gewgaws, &c. &c, it strikes Us very forcibly,
that the people of the five States above-men
tioned would, at the end of twelvemonths, find
themselves relieved of a heavy weight of in
debtedness. An arrangement so desirable
can, it is evident, easily be accomplished. All
the Southerners have to do, is to stay at home
and save travelling expenses. If they don’t
soon find their debts paid after a rigid adher
encc to this rule for one or two years, then
our calculation is wrong. At any rate the
experiment is well worth trying ; and so strong
is our faith in its success, that we ourselves
are resolved to stay at home the whole sum
mer, and set a good example to our erratic
neighbors.”
BRANDRETII’s FILLS.
Anew way to get money from a Bank.
A good joke is told in the Cincinnatian, of the
extraordinary efficacy of these pills, in the most
hopeless cases. A merchant of Cincinnati,
(the story says,) was refused a discount at
hank, was disconsolate ; had a no’e to lift next
day, and was out of funds. Despair was writ,
ten oa his face, when he espied a newspaper in
which was related the circumstance of an old
and decrepid woman being restored to bloom
ing youth, by merely reading the sign over one
of Dr. Brandeth’s “ own offices.” An idea
flashed upon him—lie determined to make the
experiment of trying tlieir efficacy on Bank
directors, and accordingly lie repaired imme
diately to the office, and procured a box. This
he folded up with his note, and sent a eounter
hopper to the Bank who presented the same
to the Directors, and awaited the issue.
The rest will soon be told— the sight of the
box worked upon them so forcible, that they
ordered the money to be shelled out instuntcr !
WISDOM.
It is as great a point in wisdom to hide
ignorance, as to discover knowledge*
TOE BIBLE.
Os all the Loons which God has bestowed on
our apostate and orphan race, we are bound to
say that the Bible is the noblest and most
precious. Wc bring not into comparison
with this, the glorious sun-light nor the rich
sustenance which is poured from the storehouse
of the earth, though dust, to soar into com
panionship with angels. The Bible is the de
velopment ol man’s immortality, the guide
which informs him how he may move off tri
umphantly from a contracted and temporary
scene, and grasp destinies of unbounded splen
dor—eternity his life-time, and infinity his
home. It is tlie record too. which tells us that
this rebellious section of God’s unlimited em
pire is not excluded from our Maker’s com
passion; but that the creatures who move
upon its surface, though they have hnselv
sepulchred in sinfulness and corruption the
magnificence of their nature, are yet so dear
in their ruin to Him who formed them, that he
bowed down the heavens in order to open
their graves. O! you have only to think what
a change would pass on the aspect of our race,
if the Bible were suddenly withdrawn, and all
remembrance of it swept away, and von arrive
at some faint notion ofthe worth ofthe volume.
Take from Christendom the Bible, and you
have taken the moral chart bv which alone its
population can be guided. Ignorance of the
truths of God and only guessing at their own
immortality, the tens of thousands would be as
mariners, tossed oil a wide ocean, without a
star to guide, and without a compass by which
to steer. The blue-lights of the storm.fiend
would burn ever in the shrouds ; and when the
tornado rushes across the waters, there would
be heard nothing but the shriek of the terrified,
and tlie groans ofthe departing. It were to
mantle the earth with more than Egyptian dark
ness ; it were to dry up the fountain of human
happiness ; it were to take the tide from our
waters, and leave them stagnant, and the stars
from our heavens, and leave them in sackcloth,
and the verdure from our valleys, and leave
them in barrenness ; it were to make the -pre
sent all recklessness, and the future all hope
lessness ; the maniac’s revelry and the fiends
delight, if you could anihilate that precious
volume which tells us of God and Christ, and
unveils immortality, and instructs in duty, and
woos to glory. Such is the Bible.
Prize it ye youth, and study it more and
more. Prize it ye aged, for it leads to the
New Jerusalem. Prize it every one of ye, as
ye are intelligent and immortal beings—for it
giveth understanding to the simple.
SAYINGS.
BY DR. FRANKLIN.
Sloth, like rust, consumes, faster than labor
wears, whilst the used key is always bright.
Dost thou love life ? Then do not squander
time, for that is the stuff life is made of.
The sleeping fox catches no poultry.
He that rises late must trot all day, and shall
scarce overtake his business at night.
Early to bed and early to rise,
Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.
He that lives fipon liope will die fasting—
industry need not sleep.
There are no gains without pains.
At the working man’s house hunger looks
in, but never enters.
Plough deep, while sluggards sleep, and you
will have corn to sell or keep.
One to-day is worth two to-morrows.
Handle your tools without mittens-—a cat in
gloves catches no nfro.
He who by the plough would thrive,
Lfimself must either hold or drive.
The eye of a master will do more than both
his hands.
Not to oversee Workmen is to leave your
purse open.
A little neglect may breed a great mischief
*“for want of a nail the shoe was lost, and for
want of a horse tlie lider Was lost.
And a fat kitchen makes lean will.
If you would be rich, think of saving as well
as getting.
What maintains one vice would bring up
two children.
Beware of little expenses—a small leak wil*
sink a great ship.
If you would know the want of money, go
and try to borrow some—for he that goes a
borrowing goes sorrowing.
Pride is as loud a beggar as want and a
great deal more saucy.
Pride breakfasted with plenty, dined with
poyerty, and supped with infamy.
Lying rides on debt’s back.
It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright.
Creditors have better memories than debtors.
For nge and want save what von mav.
No morning’s sun lasts the whole day.
Rather go to bed supperless than rise in debt.
If you do not hear reason she will be sure to
rap your knuckles.
He that hath a trade hath an estate ; and he
that hath a calling hath a place of profit and
honor. A ploughman on his legs is higher
than a gentleman on h s knee.
The sound of a hammer at five in the morn
ing, heard by a creditor, makes him feel easy
six months longer.
TO HAVE GOOD YEAST IN SUMMER,
Is a desirable object with every housewife.
Slie may have such by the following simple
process.
Boil a single handful of hops (which every
farmer can and ought to raise, to the extent of
liousehold wants.) in two or three quarts of
water—strain and thicken the liquor when hot,
with rye flour; then add two or three yeast or
turnpike cakes to set the mess. If this is done
at evening it wifi be fit for use early next morn
ing.
Reserve a pint of this yeast which thicken
with Indian meal, make into small cakes, the
size of crackers, and dry them in the shade for
future use. In this Yeast, cakes kept a long
time arc apt to become rancid, and loose their
virtues. The fresher the cakes the better the
yeast.
'nrnrrNTTT—“
To die Editor ofthe Southern Post,
Dear Squire Pendleton:
I have seen lately, several “Georgia Scenes ”
“ Stray Collegian Effusio is,” “ Penciling,’”
“Travels,” &c. &c. and not being willing thg|
these things should receive all attention, I have
concluded to take an “ Extract from my sad.
die-bugs,” for tlie edification of all who are
anxious to read about matters and things in
gineral. My saddledrags are hung up in my
house, and wlienevcr any thing of inqiortance
happens, or whenever my mind is unusually
filled with notions, I set tliein down on papeiy
and then store ’em away in that convenient
receptacle. T.iey are a family article; listen
to their biography.
A celebrated ancestor of tlie present Barlow
stock went with King Henry the fifth of Eng
land to France, during the wars of his reign,
a id he carried a pair of saddle-bags with oint
ments, liniments, dec. therein, to dress a sword
cut, snake pole thrust, dec. if so be he should
get into a fight. The first battle proved the
overthrow of Samuelis Johannes Barlow, the
flower and pride of British coblers. The
French Duke of Orleans laid violent hands on
the saddle-bags, but a*friend of Samuelis, after
a hard struggle recaptured the prize from the
noble hut covetous Duke. The pair has re
muined in the family from that day to this, a
venerable relic of antiquity, and the honorable
memento of chivalrous deeds. The above
account is a true extract from our family re
cord.
Whenever I extract any thing therefrom,
Jonathan Snip, scool teecher, revises, corrects,
remodels gramar, retorick, logic, spelling, &c.
for publication, and often elevates my style.
I have added to my name at the suggestion of
Jimmy Reynolds. He informed me that all
great men signed their names thus: It. Shelton
McKenzie, L. L. D., N. C. Brooks, A. M.,
W. Gilmore Simms, Jereboham Goliah Spilkv,
1). D. So not wishing to lie behind any. 1 bog
leave, sir,most humbly to subscribe myself your
most obedient servant,
W. BONYPART BARLOW, Esq.
FIRST EXTRACT FROM MYSADDLE
BAGS.
BV W. BONYPART BARLOW, ESQ.
M'j first Love Letter.
Lie there forever, said l, as I gently cram’d
my first love letter into my saddle-bugs some
twenty years ago ; but since age has worn off
youthful baslifulness, and even youthful pride,
I am willing to draw it from its time honored
habitation, that I may once more behold it with
mine own eys. It’s a rare tale; full of un
pleasant reminiscences to me, yet no doubt
many would laugh, if they could enter into my
stead, and see the circumstances as I saw them.
I will endeavor to give an account of the
manner in which my first love-letter made its
entree into the world ; and I can assure tlie
reader, that though no star appeared at its ad
vent, to rule its destiny, yet it was an epoch in
the history of my life.
It was a cold Christinas day in 18 —, the
clouds were settling thick and black about the
horizon, occasionally spreading their raven
wings to zenith, obscuring the lace ofthe sun
as he swiftly bent his way to his meridian
throne, wlien Job Hawthorn poked his nose
over the fence around f ither’s yard.arrJ hunde i
me a note, which kindly invited me to a party
that evening, at his father’s domicile. 1 was
about eighteen ; consequently I was anxious
to be at the party, seeing the girls, if not to be
seen. Another characteristic of that blooming
age was, the desire to appear splendidly drest
None of my wearing apparel being of the
spruce order, (to wit) broad-cloth. I made
sundry depredations upon an elder motherts
wardrobe, purloining therefrom a pair of inex
pressibles, long enough lor Goliah, a pair of
boots, vest, and ruffl’d shirt. Then was want
ing a coat. Tiie lack ofthis indispensible arti
cle gave me considerable uneasiness, especially
when noon had passed, and the shades of even
ing were lengthening “o’er the lawn.” There
was no time lor delay, so 1 immediately entered
my pants almost up to tlie chin, at any rate
they pinched me under the arms, then l don’d
my boots of most enormous dimensions. A
cravat was then absolutely necessary. A four
feet square piece of bleached homespun roll’d
into a long pole served to shelter the parts be
tween the top of tlie breast and collar hones and
the te«th and years, the knot behind lorming a
prodigious hump. My ve»t, whose longitude
was amazing, very nearly hid one half of my
whole person. Alter a little reflection I stole
out fathers coat and hat, put them on, looked
in the gkiss, the coat tail fun’d my heels and tiic
hat very ligirtly rested itself on my ears and
cravat, while its brim insured security from
driving storms. 1 thought I looked unusually
handsome; and this reflection beguiled an
hours walk to Mr.Hawthorn’s house. I arrived
at sunset—about tlie time tiiat others made their
appearance—and took my seat (my fine dress
being my credentials) among the youthful
throng. For my life I could not hold my hands
still, I could scarcely reach down to my coat
pockets,and those in the pants were immediate
ly under my arm s, so they would sometimes
dangle down, next moment they would he in
my mouth, or pulling down my cravat, to keep
it from trespassing upon the premises of my
nose. It’s taken for granted that many a
sweet mouth smiled at the youthful scion of
the Barlow family, especially if informed that
many doubted whether the clothes had been
thrown at me, or really ffnd truely put on.
Laura Johnson, with her sparkling Hack
eyes and smiling lips, was there; the source
of pleasure, since all eyes were upoii her,
old maids smiled contemptuously at her, and
all young men courted her conversation. I
had long loved her, yet no one knew the little
secret of my breast, and 1 had never exhibited,
my feelings even to her. I wanted to sit by
her, and every opportunity that presented itself
found mo moving in straight lines to the cen
tre of gravitation. Finally, a chair by her
side was vacated, I made for it with all possible
speed, and sat down as perfect an exemplifica
tion of idiocy as can be imagined. She scent
ed to be awkwardly situated ; and I am cer
tain, that if awkwardness was contagious, sho
would have been so. Old Squire Hawthorn
saw her situation, and sent Job with this mes
sage to me, “ Father says, lie would like to sew