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MISCELL A NY. LAUGH, LADY, LAUGH! Laugh, lady, laugh; There's no avail in weeping: Grief was never made To be in beauty’s keeping. Tears are of a stream Where pleasure lies decaying; Smiles, like rays of light, ■ O'er sunny waters playing. Laugh, lady, laugh. Sing, lady, sing; There is a charm in singing. Upon the air is flinging. HH S.vce: sounds hate «>t;ut won HHH Kg And harps h ■■ The plajthing H S.ng, lady, sing. MBMj L >ve. lady, 1 ne : There's always joy .:] 1 >::ig l Ba:sigh no’ a i IMWB Tlia* t.ian ;< f., i 1 • : re... MB For T w lie JMM A»iur t :sJ L ...... ■ JKK l. . t i 1 Otre EX ALL HH ]'/n::i t 1 ■ • HH 1! \ ’ .'. \ S \ fIH Mattiv, pbv > • '^Hgjgj X :• • MH tiav, overtire - " i • ■" ■■ ter ire .i r BHB do.— : >.i:ii • \..’ . v. ■■ 1 ' ’ i.u; ; i o .ii ■ ■ c ' KK| v. i nii'.l • tin.cnt : i^H|| cate 1 nit re ; HHj v Ti • KH t 'I lent • ■■ s, I' l! ' ’^|Sa| vote I',, ■ I ,■ i..i; it is i..e It,ilV. Hi: 1 to ti!i'll ■ •' ;ii..i ■ «■ rs. lin v '1.. 1 ' K K i.i"ttv.' i aektiow '_■■ ■ «'i ■ 1 pit ions for t lie reuse . BHn "N't-t stirelv. in u lati'l wlrere o tvon IcHH nr in :■ n ii •"■•! - • -KH I. :v w lie i K p no. •'■ H| ii" ..■ .fill and ti,.; i'.-.'i t :\m 0.1 cry s.■!.■:.ml c ./^^H (•' 1 cv'.tc.O" : 'K§| i.ic,—' ! 1 •• i. \V} mn.:.':. •Hj tiiiiiii of wlrit A iit'-.i- ~i j o v. lies st.*’. I It' l l t <j i Wc subject. ciiic.'ly tin- [mi o <r \m m H 1.0 iris. I.l>’ into tee ; 11t,i < ’.<> 'HH ruUo.t, I.U'I io • 111 eeeii.il tine.' V, :.i a rl h'.imiui lilt* around tie m. SRs - T . :• Mrs. Embury ei^^H versification flows i <•'' fir: see : lie lias lino all'i hcl^K tii.es of beauty arc ulcer n:t ! soft as tl.c mcr nioonhcams oa a placid lake : and in s^H of her poems there is patiio; an I deep to ness, la I tor lit it poems >re has greatlvßM prove 1 her stylo—tint is, sl.c \vi .to in from her own thou ns 1 its and feelings. and K from a lliodol ; anil Sirin' ol jic short j arc very benutitul. Sire is, too, a po;nK prose writer, many sketches and stories U'H Iter pcti cnricli our porio led l.to atmo. diH she is warmly engaged in tiio improving H o,vi» sex, nml has written on tec .uihcctK *• I'emree Education” w.th nntc!i discrimination and delicacy. If see ncivß dor a neves, ty ofwriti. g. wosl.o dd not doH that site woalii soon excel ; Iml tins is not ease. Wealth make; smooth the path of K before her, anil her husband and clnldieii fl| gross her he irt —what she writes is, therefore, from the impulse of genius or the do ire to o bllge her friends. STANZAS TO V SISTER. “ Herlot isoa you —silent tear to wc it, And pn'.ieiit smiles to wear ti:roach sufll .lag's bout, And sumless wishes from affe 'ion's ih ' To pour on broken reeds, a wasted shower, And to make idols, and to find them clay, And to bewail that worship—therefore pray !” Feuc a llemans. Ay, mark the strain, sweet Sister ! watch and pray— Wean thy young stainless heart from rartnly tilings: Oh ! wait cot thou till l.tb’s blest in 'ruing ray Only o’er withered hopes its radiance (lings ; But give to heaven tbyritiles.- spirit now, Ere sorrows tracery mar the placid brow. Gentle and pure thou art —yet is thy soul Fill’d with a maiden’s vague and pie t nt d> earns, Sweat phantasies, that mock at t!i jught’s control. Like atomsTound thee lloa% in fancy’s beams ; Bat trust them not, young dreamer, bid them f.ee— They have deceived all others, and will tl.ee- Well can I read thy dream = —thy gentle heart. Already woman’s in its wish to ' c , Now longs for one, to whom it may impart Its untold wealth of hidden tenderness, And pants tolearn the meaning of the thrill Which wakes when fancy stirs affection's rill. Thou dearest too of happiness—the deep And plaeid joy which poets paint so well : Alas! man’s passions, even when they sleep, Like ocean's waves are heaved w ith secret swell And they who frequent hear the half-hushed s gh, Know ’tie the wailing of the storm gone by. Pain are all such visions ! —could J t thou know The secrets of a woman’s weary he )h ! couldst thou rend, upon her pride-veiled brow, Berwtttsd s, her love forg ", — a humbleness of heart thou wonhJst kurel nown, ind jiray for strength to wear her victim crown. lut thou w ilt do os all have done before, And make thy haaji for eardily gods a shrine ; There all affection's pflceless treasures p tur. There hope's lair flowers io votive garlands twine, And :hou wilt meet the recompense all mus’, Who g.vc to mortal love their fjith and trus.. Anna-Maria IIV/As.—Mi's. Wells was b-rn [jn G.oucesler, Muss. Her maiden name was Foster. Her father died w hen she was an in font; her mother married a second husband, 1 and si>o.i after removed to Bo ton, where An na Maria received every advantage of educa tion then enjoyed by yo gla es. She was distinguished "during cti.hu.ood lb.’ I.er puss.o.i --j ate love of reading and of in i •'—t .ese [>ui - suits, einio-t let not me in Ik :.y f Jon dignity, Tr.ou nioaar. ii b r ', Gazin:' v. ..h v u'.rar eye Upon thy rain ; —for my L an is stirred To hear thy cry ; Yet, somethin 'sier.ier in thy downward gaze Du.k t i t in 10 low e, And deep ihsJnia beirays, As if thou cursed trim's poorly acted pow er, And scorned his praise. Sarah Louisa P. Smilh. —lt is a melan choly pleasure to gather up t..e memorials of departed genius and worth ; and we linger o ver the song of one wno parsed away in her bloom an.l hrig.itt.ess from , :u th, as though it were a holy strain, because the sweet lyrist was so near “ The world of peace, of joy, and perfect love.” Mr . Sm.th. formi'i !y .M >3 Hickman, was | Lora June, IS! 1, and died February, 1832, in tire 21st year of her age. Her matt u I an cestors re idetl many years ut Newton, near Boston ; hut Louisa was born at Detroit, while j irfsr gratidfuti.er .Major-General Wiiiiam Hull w:\sgoven.oroftiiut territory. Mrs. 11. c k! man returned to Newton w eu Louisa w s in : her infancy, and t.iere devoted he:self to tlie e luc.it o 1 of her two and tughters. Tit uncom mon quickness of talent cxhib.ted by Louisa, ! soon attracted attention from her instructors, j Slie bad a most wonderful memory, and gath ered knowledge withoulSiny apparent dibit— yet was she eier among the most active i 1 mental pursuits. And the ease with which sheacq red information was not more remar kable titan the mo lestv which accompanied her superiority. She began to write when a mere child, and these juvenile productions were of ten so excellent, ns to elicit gr< at coinmeiida l oik UOlll her 1': 1 y and their confi ant. .! li .'ends : vet thi raise never fostered pi self-confidence iu the youthful poetess. S..c wrote fiom the spontaneous overflown g ot her own heart, which seemed filled with tiio’ts THE SOU TII E 11N POS T. of beauty, and all tender and sweet emotions. By the persuation of her friends, slie was i i | duce l to send some of her effusions, anony mously, to different periodicals. These were ; greatly admire 1, and often reprinted. Before tsiievvas fifteen her name had become known, and slie was distinguished as a young lady of uncommon powers of intellect. She was soon an ob eet of attention. Her personal appear ance was very prepossessing. Si.e had a ! countenance bright with the •• light of mind, ” a soft and delicate complexion, a•• large loving eve,” and a head of that line With which they are bound and feltcr’d here, Forever struggling f.r skies more clear. There arc many things like thee, bright bird, Hopes as thy plumage guv; Our air is i.ilh ihem foreverstirr'd, Hut etii! in air they stay. And liappluc. , like thee. fair one, Is ever hovering o’er, But rests in a laud of brighter sun, Oa a vvave'ess, peaceful shore, And Btoc.psto lave her weary wings, Where the fount of“ living waters” springs. [To be continued ] rOETRY OF ANCIENT BURIAL. It was among tlie loveliest customs of the ancients to bury the young at morning twi light; for, as they strove to give the softest interpretation to death, so they imagined that Aurora, who loved the young, had stolen them !o her embrace. FAMILY LIKENESS. “S!io:i! Iri’t you know this was rny son to look at him?” asked a man of his neighbor— "Yes”—was the reply—“for the maker’s mane is stamped upon tiie blade.” QUARRELS. Two things, well considered, would prevent n any quarrels : first, to have it well ascer tained whether we are not disputing about terms rather ‘linn things; and, secondly, to examine whether that on which wc differ is worth contending about. . EPIGRAM. A wng, most ungrammatical, whose car Was stunn'd with sudden tumult, in his fear. Ask'd in had phrase, “if any thing was broke ?" “ No," cried a second, “ «*'« but cruik'd a joke!" j THE BROKEN HEARTED. BY G. D. FEESTKX. I lave seen the infant sinking down, l.kc a stricken flow r, to the grave ll —tne strong man tiered} breathing out iiis soul upon the field of batle—the miserable eonv ict standing upon the scaffold, with a detip curse quivering on his bps; I have v.ew ed death in all his forms of darkness and vengeance, with a tearless eve —hut I u ver could look on woman, young .and lovely woman, fading away fiom ti»e earth, in beautiful and uncomplaining melan choly, without feeling the very fountains ol life turned to tears and dust. Death is aiways terrible—hut when a form of angel beauty is passing off to the silent land of ti.e sleepers, tiie heart feels that something lovely is ceasing from existence, and broods, with a sense ol I utter desolation, over the lonely thoughts that Iconic up, like s; ci ties, from the grave, to Ihnunt our midnight musing®. I Two years ago I took up my residence for m few weeks, in u country village in the east ern part of New England. Soon after my ■ nival, 1 became acquainte 1 with a lovely Lrl, apparently annul seventeen vc.ns m She had lost t e idol of her pme lie ill s pine, t live, and the shadows of deep and ho } ii emo les weie restiiig.dike the w.i g ol tleatn upon ■a' brow. I first met er | pe mirthful. 5..0 was, indied, a eieatme to L worshipped—her bww was g. r.ainled by lie young year’s sweetest flowers —her yellow Kcks were hanging Ijeautifully and low upon Kr bosom, and she moved through the crowd pith such a floating, unearthly grace, that tne Bewildered gazer looked tilmo t to see her fade Lay into tae air, like the cre nion of some peasant dream. Sue seemed cheerful, and Ivo’i gay; yet I saw that tier gaiety was but It mockery of !er feelings. Sie sm td. but pore was something in her smile which told I Kit its mournful beauty was hut the luig.it re lection of a tear, and her eyelids, at times ■used heavily down, as if struggling to repress ie tide of agony that was bursting up from Bt heart’s secict urn. Sac looked, as if slie |,,ld have left tlie scene of festivity, and’gone It beneath the quiet stars, and laid her loic ■jad tloun upon the fresli green earth, and Bnircd out her stricken soul, gusli after gusli, ■ I it mingled with the eternal fountain ol lde ■id purity. I I)avs and weeks passed on, : rid that swe t ■rl gave me her confidence, and 1 became to In* ns a brother. The smile upon her lip was lint, the purple veins upon her cheek grew Isible, and the c deuces of her voire became ftily more weak and tremulous. On aqu et lening in June, 1 wandered out with her in open air. It was then that s.a: first toid ■ die tale of her passion, and ol tne blight had comedown like mildew upon her life. Bic lad lieen a portion of I.er existence. tendrils had been twined around her heart earliest years; and wiicn they were away, they left a wound winch flowed the springs of her soul wno hloo !. " 1 passing away.” said she. ‘’and it should H sc. T,,e w inds have gone over my I.ic. the bright finds of hope and the sweet o;iis o!' passion aic scattered down, and ■ witiieriug in the dust. And yet 1 cannot an ong the tombs without a tear, it to take If no <•! friends who love me ; ■ very hard 10 bid farewell to those dear with which I have held communion ■n cllildiioo I. and w .iicli. tioni day to uav. ■e caught the color of my I.ic, ;uid winpii- He I with its joy.; and sorrows. I’.iat l.ttle wlicrc I so often strayed with my bu- I love, iiud ud.cre, at times, even now t. e ■ : tones of his voice seem to come stealing Hound me, till ti.e whole air becomes one in- His ' and mournful melodv—that pensive star H wh'cli rny fancy can stfll picture his form Hiking down upon me and beckoning me on H Ids own bright home, every (lower and t ■ **o Ind rivulet 011 which oar curly love has set its ■ndviiig seal have become tlear to me, <u <1 1 pannot, without a sigh, close my eyes upon ■hem forever. I 1 1 are lately heard that the beautiful girl l>f whom 1 have spoken is death Ti.e clo.e If her lde was calm as the falling of a qu et Btreain—gentle as the sinking of t'-c breeze lliat lingers fora time round a bed ofwitlieied poses, and then dies, as "twere lrom very pvveetness I It cam ot be that earth is man’s only abi ling lilace. It cannot be that our life is a bubble, least up by the ocean of eternity to float a mo ment upon ti e wave, and then sink into dark ness and nothingness. Else why :s it that the aspirations which leap like angeis fiom the temple of our hearts, aic forever wandering abroad unsatisfied ? Why is it that the rain bow and the cloud come over us w itii a beau ty that is nut of earth, and then pass off and leave us to muse upon tlicir failed loveliia ss! Why is it that the stars, which held their (esti val around the midnight throne, are set so far above the grasp of our limited faculties—for ever mocking us with their unapproachable glory! And, finally, why is it that bright forms of human beauty are presented to our view, and then taken from u», leaving the thou sand streams of our affection to flow back in cold and Alpine torrents upon our hearts! We are bum lor a higher destiny than that |of earth. There is a realm where ‘he rain bow never fades—where the stars will be | spread out before us, like the islands that slum ber on the ocean—and where the beautiful beings tliat here pass before us like visions, will stay in our presence forever. Brig! t .creature of my dreams, in that realm 1 shall see thee again. Even now thy lost image is sometimes with me. In tlie mysterious silence of midnight, when tlie streams are glowing in the light of the many stars, that image comes floating upon the beam that lingers around my pillow, and stands before me in its pule, dim loveliness, till its own quiet spirit sinks like a spell from Heaven upon my thoughts, and the grief of years is turned to 'dreams of blessedness and peace. NO GO. An old gentleman, who used so frequent one of the coffee-houses in Dublin, being un well, thought lie might make so fiec as to steal an opinion concerning his case; acoord iuglv, one day he took an opportunity of ask ing one of the faculty, who sat in the same box with him, what lie should take for such a com plaint ? *• Advice,” said the doctor. LIFT CP THINE EYES, AFFLICTED SOIL. BY JAMES MONTGOMERY. Lift up thine ever, afflicicd soul! From earth lift up thine eye?, Though dark the evening shadows roll, And daylight beauty dies : One sun isssea thousand more Their rounds of glory run, Where science leads thee to explore In every star a sun. Thus, when some long-!oved comfort end?, And nature would despair, Failh to die heaven of heaven ascends. And meets ten thousand tin re ; First faint and smal 1 , then clear and bright, They gladden all .he gloom, Aud stars that t< cm but points of fight, The rank of suns assume. THE JIAWK. There was lately presented to ti e English Zoological Society a fine hawk, caught on I oud tl.c ship Exmouth, 0:1 I.er passngfc from Bengal to Loudon, wi.cn, in about latitude twelve degioes north, and longitude eignty c.giit degrees thirty minutes east, which placed t.e ship three hundred tildes from land —ti e Andaman Islands. From ti.e bird’s tendency to 11 v away towards the east, about the time of sunrise, for some days niter M was caught, tlie captain of ti.e Exmoutli was led to sup pose that it must have been blown off, or fol lowed its prey till out of sight of those islands. At the time it was taken, it was in tli • act of devouring the remains of a sea-bird on the II aintopsail yard, which it had previously been seen to pounce down upon and take up fio n the sea. This is the second instance of a hawk being taken up by the same captain out of sight of land ; and, oil the former occa sion, a sparrow took refuge in the cabin : the shin was, at Unit time, about eighty miles fiom Cevlon. From these circumstances, it is evi de'.t that hawks traverse great spaces of the ocean, lx iug able to feed on ti.e wing. TREES AND FLOWERS APPROPRIATE TO PLACES OF INTERMENT. At all periods, am >.ig every nation, flowers and certain trees seem to have been conse crated to the (Dad. The Homans | luuted too wild vine and box around their tombs. Tne wealthy assigned a beauteous garden to their departed favorites, as in the instances of Au gustus and Maecenas. Not only did they sus pend garlands over t'aeir tombs, but scattered flowers around them. The same custom pre vailed among tlie Grecians, v. ho considered ah purple and white flowers necepta le to the dead. The Thessalians strewed the grave of Achilk s with the immortal amaranth and hl.es. Electra complains that the tomb of Agamem non received no myrtle-houghs; in short, instances of this practice are everywhere to he found. Among the C lincse. to tlie present dav, the cypress and the fir shade their ceme teries; the former tree, an attribute of Pluto, was ever considered lui.ereal, lier.ee ca'led /c --ra/is; and the ferulhi were festivals m hoia 1 of ti.e dead, observed hv tie Romans. Vnrio pretends that the cypress was called itinera from funm. as it emitted an antiseptic aroma. Pliny and others affirm that it tv ified t < dead, from its never shooting out f esli spoa' when the trunk was cut down. At any rate to this hour it is planted in burying ground; in ’very civilized country. Curiosities of Medical Experience. THE WAGES OF TREASON. Two sons of Benedict Arnold, the traitor, a e yet living in England, and in receipt of ; joint pension of one hundred and sixty-two; pounds. Their names are James R. and Willia 11 F.; md their ages fifty-seven and forty-four. The London Spectator makes! the following comment on this r ward of trea son : “Without passing ruiv judgment on Ar nold’s morality, we admit that his sons are entitled to ti.e pension.” WELSH LULLS. At a ford in South Wales is a hoard with this inscription:—Take notice, when this board is under water, ti.e river is impassable.” An act of Elizabeth, ordois the Hide and Prayer Book to be translated into Welsh, for the purpose of mak tig the Welsh learn En glish.—"D.d you ever remember so wet and cold a summer ?” said a lady to Mr. Rogers. “ Yes, madam, last winter,” replied the wag. TRUTH. The study of truth is perpetually joined with ti.e love of virtue; for there is no virtue which derives not its original from truth; as. on the contrary, there is no vice which has not its beginning it) a falsehood. Truth is tl.c foundation of all knowledge, and the cement of all societies. PROTECTION AGAINST HRE. Our foreign papers state that a r.evv fire proof cement has been invented, which is to “ defy incendiarism and to destiny tlie insu rance companies.” A small house, that had been prepared with the eeuient. was filled with shavings and other compustibles, and set on fire in ti e presence of a number of persons who bad been invited, near and far, to he pre sent at the attempted act of incendiarism. The shavings burned, and tire flames rushed out in volumes, but the bouse remained (or the most part untouched. In one or two places, the cement fell off, and the fire took effect on the parts uncovt red, but on the whole t c experiment was considered successful. Tne Manchester Guardian ohservrs, “There can be no doubt, vve think, where one storv or floor is carefully cut off fiom communication with those above and below it, the resistance offered to the flames by this cement would be sufficient to limit their ravages to that floor, or even apartment, until the arrival of the fire engines; and when these came into operation, it would certainly be found a powerful auxiliary in checking and confining the flames.’ New-York Mirror. A wag, sometime ago, advertised a carriage to perform without horses, with only one wheel, and invited the curious in mechanics to see it. Mativ of the members of the Society of Arts attended and, in the ardor of their ex pectation, were shown—« wheel-barrow. A TRUE GENTLEMAN. WRITTEN by a LADY. A true gentleman and a fine gentleman are not, as is too universally supposed, svnoro mous characters. A true gentleman missej no opportunity of obliging Ins friend, yet does it in so delicate a manner that tie seems rather to have received, than conferred a favor. U e is honorable in himself, and in the judgment of others, his word is sufficient for the fiilfilmcnt of an engagement. In his demeanor is com bined mildness and firmness, dignity with con. dcsccnsion, affability with discretion; sincerity simplicity, and ease are prominent character’ isties. He is neither a slave nor an enemy to pleasure, but approves or rejects, refuses," ns nis reason dictates : be stoops not to flatter a knave, though he may fill an exalted station • 1 or does he neglect merit, though be may find’ ■t i'» a cot age. He defeats t e malice "of an enemy with lbrbenrance. Ins understanding i 8 never supplanted by vanity ; he does not love vvl e.e he does not esteem ; in ;is friendship he is steady and sincere ; and if he understands the true charsietcr of an intelligent I cly, he nc ver salutes her with a profusion of what a fine gentleman would call eloquent flattery, (but ci'c. tes in the mind of an intelligent "female d.srust, disapprobation and dislike.) but ad. dresses her vv th a proper degree of respect, and converses for tise purpose of mutual in struct on. A thought. When children accustomed from infancy to hoar nothing hut correct conversation, there would he hut little t eed of their learning arbi trary rules of grammar ; they would 11a urul- I v speak and write correctly. lienee it is that children of educated parents arc generally so much more easy and graceful in their conver sation titan tiie children of the uneducated. Our language likeonr manners, is caught fiom those with whom we associate; surd if we would have tiie v oting im[ rove in this impor tant part ol education, vve must Le careful that th. \ near no v ulgarism fiom us. Parents and teachers cannot he too particular in their me of language i.i presence of imitated children. Festalozzi. IIOVV TO GAIN A SU r. ’Tis not every ... .... .. . gain his suit, even with a show of argument-on his side, tl.c following case, therefore, may le considered tiie more extraordinary, where there was not tlie slightest cause of act.on, A few clays since a black fellow came running in breath less haste to the dwelling of a grocer, whose store is in Pr ,tt street, stating tin t in removing a hogshead of molasses at the store, it had bursted and covered Mr. from head to foot ; and that lie bad been sent ns fast as he could run to bring bint another suit of clothes before he could move out of his tracks. The kind lady of the grocer did not want to see her husband so entirely “bured in sweets.” and with becoming haste delivered to the sup posed messenger anew suit throughout, with which the rogue de< an ped, pleas, and that l.is own viilauy had furnished him with a valid c.x eiise for d.sapi earn g in a hurry. Transcript. SAFE ARRIVAL OUT ON THE “GREAT WEST ERN.” The Backwoodsman, published at Grafton, 1 linoi-s, announce* the salt* arrival at Bluff laic, in that county, of the ark on winds, built by Mr. Fessenden, of our neighboring own of Dorchester, for the purpose of convey ing himself and family—nine in number —to Illinois. The ark, or omnibus is seventeen feet long, ten feet high, about six feet wide, and contains accommodations for cooking, wash iug, sleeping, and every convenience an emi grating family could desire. The inter or con tains a space of 10JO cubic feet. On its route t excited universal attention, and hundreds cx •mwned the “moving house.” In passing thro Morgan county, the Governor of tlie State visi'e.l Mr. Fessenden and family, and named li s locomotive dwelling ‘ The Great Western, hv which name it was distinguished until it ar rived at Bijiiffdale, the end of its jo .rney, where Mr. Fessenden having no want of good per manent houses, lias laid h:s land ship Up in ordinary. Let it he carefully preserved, and a century hence, the multiplied descendants of Mr. F. will probably take pride in exhibiting it to their friends as a noble specimen ol t.ie Y u.kee no ions of “ti e older times.” EARLY RISING. “My morning haunts,” writes tlie divine Milton, “are where they should he, at home; not sleeping or concocting tl.c surle.ts of an irregular feast, h it up, and stirring: in win ter, often ere the sound of any bell awaken men to labor or to devotion ; in summer, as oft as the bird that first rises, or not much t.u dier, to read good authors, or cause them to be read, till the attention be weary, or the nemoiv have its full freight; then with useful and generous labors, preserving the body’s health and hardiness, to render lightsome, clear, and not lumpish obedience to the mind, to the cause of religion, and our country ; and, when it shall require, our firm hearts, in sound -ti dies, to stand and cover their station. army CONTRACTORS. The following curious announcement is co pied from a" letter sent by a firm of army con tractors, Long Acre, London, to a principal clothing establishment at Devizes . >n have this day sent off, directed to Captain E court, Devizes, a crate containing one quarter master, three serieants, tl ice corporal, one trumpeter, one farrier, and forty-four privates, making a total of fifty t ree. for the Devizes troop of Wilts Yeomanry.” The crate, we suppose, must have been a large one. and al most as awful as the wooden-horse of I io\. SPORTING WOMAN. Miss Louisa H. Sheridan, on being ad initled by her physician to pass the present winter at Boun'eaux or Mm oirn, in consc quence of a cough which afflicted her, ad. dressed the following playfully punning to the unpleasant harbinger: “ Ma’am lhat is a very bad cough of yours.”, “ Sir, I regret to say it 13 tlie very best 1 have. Po cease, hollow sound! you alarm e’en the merry; You banish all spirit* away troin sh,r .'- Strange ! lhat Sheri , in order with' co'or t.j glow, Must change to Mi-deiro , or else to Bourdeuui . But since a long voyage seems the only resort, When at sea how the Sheri will long for the 1 or