Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

« What have I done, sir, that you should treat me sot” said Mrs. Danton. m I want to carry you where we can find out,” replied the sheriff, rather uncourtcously. 44 I shall not go.” “You must.” “ What will vou take to leave me here -then TANARUS” “ I can’t take any thing.” “ When fhust you go I” - « We must both go right away.’ “ Are you after a gold watch ?” “ No, madam, I came for you, and nothing * “ Do, Mr. Sheriff, let me go.” “Oh! do, Mr. Sheriff,” added Sophia, just entering the room. “ You may have the watch if you will not carry me. Oh, heavens ! let me loose.” * «We must go straightway,” rejoined the Sheriff. “Ask any thing you please, said Mrs. • Danton.. “ Any thing in the world,” said Sophia. “ Ob. do let my dear mother go,” said So phia, imploringly. “ W ill no inducement will no”—> — : — , « Silence ! and let us begone, before one crime succeeds another;” and taking Mrs. Danton by the hand, he led her out of the house, and with Sophia in company, scream ing and fainting, the trio repaired to the ma gistrate. Tne rest is soon toldßobson plainly saw from Mrs. Danton’s agitation and anxiety, that guilt and not a slight indisposition, pro duced the changein her manners ; and imme diately conveyed his belief to Mr. Larder, whereupon a warrant was immediately issued for her apprehension. She acknowledged all before the magistrate, who immediately com mitted her to prison for want of security, and finally, she took up her residence in the peni tentiary. Ellen Saunders lived in happiness, uncoil scious that an attempt had been made to blast her reputation ; while Sophia was a stroller upon the earth, with a cup of bitterness at her iios and the curse of heaven upon her soul. Warrcnton, Ga. W. From the Southern Literary Messenger. PENCILLED PASSAGES. Names, that lie upon the ground, are not easily set on fire by the torch of envy, but those quickly catch it, which are raised up by feme, or wave to the breeze of prosperity.— Every one that passes is ready to give them a shake and a rip; for, there are few either so busy or so idle as not to lend a hand at undo ing. The happiest of pillows is not that which Love first presses ; it is that which Death has frowned on and passed over. It has been wisely said, that Virtue hath on- Jy to be seen to be beloved: but unwisely, that Vice has only to be seen to be hated.— Certain it is that the more habituated we are to the contemplation of a pure and placid life, the more do we delight in it. I wish it were equally so that every glance nt Vice loosened a feather from her plumage, and that on a nearer approach ■and more steadfast bbsdrva tion she grew hideous. Until we have seen someone grow old, our existence seems stationary. When we feel certain of having seen it (which is not early,) the earth begins a little to loosen from us. A beautiful mouth is always eloquent. They who tell us that love and grief are without fancy and invention, never knew in veution and fancy, never felt grief and love. The thorns that pierce most deep are prest Only the closer to the breast: To dwell on them is now relief, And tears alono are balm to grief! Happy .are thbs who have retained through, out life their infantine simplicity, which nurses a tractable idol in an unsuspicious bosom, is assured it knows and heeds the voice address ing it, ami shuts it up again with a throb of joy, and keeps it warm. Discretion is the sure sign of that presence of mind without which valor strikes untimely and impotently. The remembrance of past days that were happy, increases the gloominess of those that are not, and intercepts the benefits of those that would be. To call idlers and stragglers to us, and to sit among'them and regale on their wonder, is the selfishness of an indigent and ill-appointed mind. The happy never say, and never hear said, 44 farewell.” SCRAPS. Bigotry murders Religion, in order to fright en fools with her ghost. Lacon. There is no cruelty so inexorable and unre lenting, as that which proceeds from a bigoted and presumptuous supposition of doing service to God. Under the influence of such hallu cination, all common modes of reasoning are perverted, and all general principles destroy ed. Ib ' An old writer observes, “ That we fatten a sheep with grass, not in order to obtain a crop of hay from his back, but in the hope that he will feed us with mutton, and clothe us with wool.” We may apply this to the sciences : we teach a young man algebra, inathmatics and logic, not that he should take his equotions and parallelograms into Westminster Hall, nor bring his ten predicaments to the House of Commons, but that he should bring a mind to both these places, so well stored with the sound principles of truth and of reason, as Bot to be deceived by the chichanery of the bar or the sophistry of the Senate. Ib. 'lt is less difficult to hide a thousand guineas than one hole in our coat. Ib. , Nature has not designed man for a low or ignoble being ; but lias brought us into life in . »Ue, midst- of the wide universe, ns before n multitude assembled at some heroic solemni ties, that we might be spectators of ull her magnificence, and candidates for the prize of glory which site holds forth to o>ir emulation. Cictfj I From the Southern Literary Messenger. THE FOUNTAIN.* BT WILLIAM CCLLEN BRTAXT. Fountain, that apnngeston thia grassy slope ! Thy quick, cool murtnui mingles, pleasantly, With the cool sound of breezes in the beech ' Above me in the noontide. Thou dost wear jNo stain of thy dark birth-place ; gr.shir.gup I From the dark mould and slimy roots of earth, Thou flashest in the sun. The mountain air, I'ln winter, is not clearer, nor the dew That shines on mountain blossom. Thus doth God Bring, from the dark and foul, the pure and bright. This tangled-thicket on the bank above Thy basin-—how thy waters keep it green 5 For thou dost feed the roots of the wild vine That trails ail over it, and to the twigs Ties fast her clusters. There the spice-bush lifts Her leafy lances; the virburnum there, Paler of foliage, to the sun holds up Her circlet of green berries. In and out The chipping-sparrow, in her coat of brown, Steals, silently, lest I should mark her nest Not such thou wert of yore, ere those old woods Bowed to the wave-man's axe. Then hoary trunks Os oak, and plane, and hickory o’er thee held A mighty canopy. When April winds Grew soft, tfAs maple hurst into a flush Os scarlet ftiwirs. The tulip tree, high up. Opened, in airs of June, her multitude Os golden chalices to humming-birds And silken-winged insects of the sky Frail wood-plants clustered round thy edge in Spring; The liverleaf put forth her sister blooms Os faintest blue. Here.the quick-footed wolf, Passing to lap thy waters, crushed the flower Os Sanguinaria, from whose brittle stem The red drops fell like blood. The deer, too, left Her delicate foot-prints in the soft, moist mould, And on the fallen leaves. The slow paCell bear, In such a sultry Summer noon as this, Stopped at thy stream, and drank, and leaped across. But thou hast histories that stir the heart With deeper feeling; while I look on thee, They rise before me. I behold the scene Hoary again with forests; I behold j The Indian warrior, whom a hand unseen j Has smitten with his death-wound in the woods, j Creep 6lowly to thy well- known rivulet, j And slake his death-thirst. Hark! thatquick, fierce cry ! That rends the utter silence! —'tis the whoop ! Os battle ; and a throng of savage men, | With naked arms, and faces stained like blood, j Fill the green wilderness; the long, bare arms | Are heaved aloft, bows twang, and arrows stream, j Bach makes a tree his shield, and every tree Sends forth its arrow. Fierce the fight, and short, As is the whirlwind. Soon the conquerors And conquered vanish, and the dead remain, Gashed horrably with tomahawks. The woods Are still again ; the frighted bird comes back, ' And plumes her wings; but thy sweet waters run Crimson with blood. Then, as the sun goes down, Amid the deepening twilight I descry Ficures of men that crouch and creep unheard, And bear away the dead. The next day’s shower j Shall wash the tokens of the fight away. j I look again:—a hunter's lodge is built, ] With poles and boughs, beside thy crystal Well; , While the meek Autumn stains the woods with gold , And sheds his golden sunshine. To the door j The red-man slowly drags th’ enormous bear, Slain in the chesnut thicket, or flings down ; The deer from his strong shoulders. Shaggy fells Os wolf and cougar hang upon the walls; ' And loud the black-eyed Indian maidens laugh, j That gather, from the rustling heaps of leaves, The hickory's white nuts, and the dark fruit That falls from the gray buttornut’s long boughs. So centuries passed by; and still the woods Blossomed in Spring, and reddened when the year Grew chill, and glistened in the frozen rains Os Winter, till the white-man swung the axe Beside thee—signal of a mighty change. Then all around was heard the crash of trees. Trembling awhile, and rushing to the ground-; The low of ox, and shouts of men who fired The brushwood, or who tore the earth with ploughs. The grain sprang thick and tall, and hid in green The blackened hill-side ; ranks of spiky maize Rose, like a host embattled; the buck-wheat Whitened broad acres, sweetening with its flowers The August wind. White cottages were seen, With rose-trees at the windows; barns, from which Swelled loud and shrill theory of chanticleer; Pastures, where rolled and neighed the lordly horse, And white flocks browsed and bleated. A rich turf Os grasses brought from far o’ercrept thy bank, Spotted with the white clover. Blue-eyed girls Brought pails, and dipped them'in thy crystal pool; And children, ruddy-cheeked and flaxen-haire I, Gathered the glistening cowslip from thy edge. Since then, what steps have trod thy border! Here, On thv green bank, the woodman of the swamp Has laid his axe—the reaper of the hill His sickle, as they stooped to taste thy stream. The sportsman, tired with wandering in the still September noon, has bathed his heated brow In thy cold current. Shouting boys, let loose For a wild holyday, have quaintly Bhaped Into a cup the folded linden leaf, And dipped thy sliding crystal. From the wars Returning, the,plumed soldier by thy side Has sat, and mused how pleasant it were to dwell In such a sjjot,' and .be as'Free as fhou, And move for no man’s bidding more. At eve, When thou wert crimson with the crimson sky, Lovers have gazed upon thee, and have thought Their mingled lives should flow as peacefully And brightly as thy waters. Here the sage, j Gazing into thy self-replenished depth, | Has seen eternal order circumscribe ' And bind the motions of eternal change, ; And from the gushing of thy simple fount | Has reasoned to the mighty universe. Is there no other change for thee, that lurks Among the future ages ? Will not man Seek out strange arts to wither and deform The pleasant landscape which thou makest green ? Or shall the veins that feed thy constant stream Be choked in middle earth, and flow no more j For ever, that the water-plants along Thy channel perish, and the bird in vain Alight to drink ? Haply shall these green hills Sink, with the lapse of years, into the gulf Os ocean waters, and thy souree be lost Amidst the bitter brine ? Or shall they rise L’phcaved in broken cliffs and airy peaks, Haunts of the eagle audthe snake, and thou • j Gush midway from the bare and barren steep ? •This beautiful poem was originally published in the Democratic Review. Our attention was first called to it by a literary friend. It is “gorgeous,” to usehisown exp.ession, and truly worthy of the author of “Tliana topsis,” and the “Water-fowl” Who will say that there are no m U re themes f or t j, c poeti whf , n a gummer cloud, a ‘‘bright, particular star,” or a “fountain," af fords inspiration to the spirit and music for the lyre? And why, why ere our literary periodicals filled with so much poetry of an inferior nature, when there ore jsuehwjuew'D the land asßryam, Tcrctval and HaJ- THE SOUTHERN POST. Mr. Forrest contrary to his usual custom, made a speech at St. Louis, at the conclusion of his benefit, in answer to a call from the audience : “ Ladies and Gentlemen :—Though nearly exhausted by this evening’s performances, I obey your call, and take the occasion to ex press my heartfelt acknowledgements for the approbation you have seen fit to bestow upon me during my brief engagement in your city. To say that I am pleased would be too feeble an expression of my real feelings. lam more than pleased—l am gratified beyond my ex pectations ; nor can I withhold the expression of my pleasure for the still more grateful evi ! dences of personal regard as manifested in the J many private courtesies Which 1 have received | at your hands in my short, but happy sojourn among you. I trust you will allow me at this time, to congratulate you upon the possession of so fa r a temple as you have reared on this spot in honor of the Drama. May it always be direc- I ted and controlled in such a manner as shall | subserve the interests of a pure morality, by ‘creating a love of virtue and a detestation of j viee. Impart to it such a character, and you | have established a most impressive and urn! ! rivalled school for the inculcation both of re [ fined taste and sound morals. And now we are parting, accept my sincere [ assurances that my visit to this, the fairest city [ |in the west, will be always cherished among imy most grateful recollections. With my warmest wishes that its just and lofty expecta tions may be fully realized, I bid you respect- i fully— Farewell.” ROMANCE IN DEATH. The last Natchez Free Trader tells the fol lowing story :—“ On the 7th of the present month, Miss Mary Ann L. Barber, aged 17, and L. B. Young ; aged 23, both of Tuski loosa, Alabama, were buried in one grave, af ter’having departed this life under the following circumstances: Mr. Young was a high-min ■ ded, honorable young gentleman,‘most ardent | ly attached to Miss Barber, betWedtt whom and himself those promises and attentions had been : interchanged which pledged them to the mar [ri tge union at no distant day. One in every ! sentiment as well as in sympathy, they both, a few month si ice, made a profession of reli gion at the same altar, and at the same time. On the day of their death, they had gone on a [ water excursion, with uncommon buoyancy I and animation efspirits, along with four others, j in a skiff, which suddenly overset and plunged them in tile water. The lover seized the one whom, of all others, he would save, and they both perished! Tiey were found at the bottom, locked fast in each other’s arms. With a solemn proprie ty, that embrace was never broken, and their bodies thus rest in one grave together, even as their spirits together passed into one heaven. a* THE SISTERS, OR CHOOSING A WIFE. -■ The oldest of two sisters was promised by her father to a gentleman of large estate. The day was appointed for the gentleman to make his visit, he not having as yet seen either of them, and the ladies were informed of his con ing that they might be prepared to receive him. The affianced bride, who was the hand somest of the two, being desirous to show her •elegant shadow and slender Waist to the best advantage, clothed herself in a dress which set very tight and close upon her, without any lining or facing of fur, though it was winter, and exceedingly cold. The consequence was that she appeared pale and miserable, like one perishing with the severity of the weather; while her sister, who, regardless of her shape, had attired herself rationally with thick gar ments lined with fur, looked warm, healthy and ruddy as a rose. The gentleman was fascinated by her who had the most health [ and the most prudence, and having obtained [ the father’s consent to the change, left the J mortified sister to shiver in single blessedness. one’s mother. Arottnd the idea Os one’s mother the mind of man dings with with fond affection. It is the first dear thought stamped upon our in-* fant hearts, when yet soft and capable of re-1 ceiving the most profound impressions, and all the after feelings are more or less light in com-! iparison. Our passions and our wilfulness i i may lead us far from the object of our filial j love ; we may become wild, headstrong, and i angry at her councils or opposition ; but when (death has stilled her monitory voice,anti nOth | ing but calm memory remuins to recapitulate ■ jher virtues and good deeds, affection, like a 1 | flower beaten to the ground by a rude storm, ! raises up her head and smiles amidst her tears. ! Round that idea, as we have said, the mind - clings with fond affection ; and even when the earliar period of our loss forces memory to be , silent, fancy takes the place of remembrance, and twines the image of our departed parent with a garland of graces, and beauties, and virtues, which we doubt not that she" pos sessed. a grammarian’s fancy. Dr. Willis, an old grammarian, who wrote upwards of a hundred years ago, in noticing the significant roots of the English language, gives various examples. Thus words formed upon st, always denote firmness and strength,! analagous to the Latin slo, as stand, stay, staff, stop, stout, steady, stake, stamp, stately, etc. j Words beginning with str, intimate violent 1 force and energy, as strive, strength, strike, stripe, stress, struggle, stride, stretch, strip, etc. Thr, implies forcible motion, as throw, throb, thrust, through, threaten, thraldom, etc. Wr, obliquity or distortion, as wry, wrest, wreath, wrestle, wring, wrong, wrangle, wrath, wrack, etc. Sw, silent agitation or lateral motion, as sway, swing, swerve, sweep, swim, etc. SI, a gentle fall or less observable motion, as slide, slip, sly, slit, slow, slack, slink. Sp, disstpa. tion or expansion, as spread, sprout, sprinkle, split,spill, spring. Terminatioi sin ash, indi-j cate something acting nimbly and sharply, as j crash, dash, gash, rash, flash, lash, slash. Ter- j minations in ush, something acting more ob. I tuscly and dully, us crush, brush, hush, gush, blush. The most that can be argued from some specimens we imugine is this, that tlie analogies of sound have had same influent* on the formation of words. FROM THE JOURNAL OF A BALLOONIST. 'Passing a cloud, I put out my hand and took a piece of it, and squeezed it ! like a sponge, and the water ran out. The sun Went north tihout but never set. At’the distance ofabout fifty leagues above the earth, we saw a white swan sitting on the corner of a cloud. If we had had a gun we could have shot it. Passing by the moon, we saw a fellow selling land at auction. He wished us to give a bid, but we [ told him we had not come to buy lands in the moon. We came across a comet, but h Was I asleep. It looked like a terrapin, but had a tail like a fox. We came near a hail-bank, and filled a hat tb bring dffivn with Us. The hail stones were about as large as a pigeon’s egg. A thousand rnites above the 'earth we passed through a field of turkey-buzzards. This would seem to be their region, and ac counts for the circumstance, that no orte has ever found a nest of one of these. These rookeries are out of sight in the atmosphere. As we approached One of the heavenly bodies it appeared like an island. We struck upon a planet, but Blanchard got out and shoved off the balloon. We supposed it to be Mercury, as we heard orators harranguing, and a multi tude of tongues. There were marriages going on in Venus, and in Mars, we heard the drums beat. We meant to have a pull at one of Saturn’s rings, but we were blown off the coast, and found Ourselves in’the'latitude of Herschell. Provisions failing, We thought proper to shape our course toward the earth again. The first thing we saw was the forest of Ardennes, which appeared like a.shamrock. The Pyrennian mountains seemed like a bed Os parsely; and the Atlantic Ocean about as large as Loch Swilley. Within a furlong of the earth, Blanchard gave me the parachute, and I came down. PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGF- Boccacio was thirty-five years • old when he commenced his Studies in pblite literature. Yet he became one of the thlOe great masters of’thc Tuscan diulOct, Dante and Petrarch be ing the other two. There are many among us ten years younger than Boccacio, who are dying of ennui and regret that they are not educated to a taste for literature, supposing that they are too old. FAMILY "EXPENSES. Archdeacon Paley, in a familiar table dis course touching upon the expenses brought by original sin upon husbands and fathers in the way of cambric and satins, says—“ I never let my women, (be it undestood he spoke of Mrs. Archdeacon Paley and the Misses Paley,) I never let my women, when they shop, take credit; I always make them pay ready money. Sir, ready money, is such a check upon the imagination ■!” When the heart is offered at the altar, a fire from heaven sometimes comes and consumes it, in token that it is accepted. The statue ofthe mind, like that of the body, sometimes stops growing for years, and again shoots up, one knoweth not how, in a few short hours. Some characters are made in a mo ment. People are all the summer learning to leave a door opeti, and'the Whole winter learning to close it. Tradesmen often try to sell their goods by assuring customers that they “ sell more of this article than any in their shop.” Such assurance has always upon me the effect of warning me not to purchase a hat precisely like that of all my neighbors. Some individuals are not rich enough to afford to be mean—the wealthy may indulge in being so with impunity. “ Isaac, can.yeu describe a bat ?” “ Yes sir—he’s a flying insect, about the size of a stopple—has Indian rubber wings, and a shoestring tail; he sees best with his eyes shut, and bites like the devil.” “When l am making up a plan of conse quence,” says Lord Bolingbroke, “ I always like to consult with a sensible woman.” Signor Blitz, the magician, has swallowed a regiment of troops at Cincinnati, and shaken his fist at the Colonel. Boston Post. ' Raleigh says if thou mdrryfor beauiy, thou bindest thyself all thy life for that which per chance will neither last nor please thee one year. Mystery magnifies danger as fog does the sun ; the hand that warned Belshazzar derived its horryfying influence from the want of a body. Sitting down to read and examine a com. mon place book or production, is as useless as to measure yourself with a man whom you know to be shorter than y ourself. Marty for love, but be sure thou lovest what is lovely. Prefer a person before money, v : rtue before beauty, the mind before the body; i then thoti hast a friend, a companion, a second self—One that bears an equal shara with thee in thy toils and troubles. William P f „n. A SENSIBLE MAN. One of the dukedoms of Germany contain, ing an area of about ten square miles, is held by the second son of the latfe duke. The eld est son and heir is a farmer in Warren coun ty, Missouri, and refuses to leave his farm for a ducal crown with ten square miles full of subjects to maintain its dignity. The New Orleans Auctioneers advertise sales at midnight,—because it is hot in the day time, we suppose. GALLANTRY. A man shows as scant a stock of ideas as of gallantry, who compliments one woman at the expense of another. ORIGINAL POETRY. For the benefit of posterity, we publish the following lines, and call attention to their pe culiar merit: Philadelphia Timee When weary Pare, I amokc my cigar, And aa die smoke risea, And geta into my eyeaea, I think of thee, dearcal, And oh, how I nghae# I From the Southern Literary Messenger. GEORGE WASHINGTON. Mr. White :—The character of Washing, ton is only now beginning to be thbfOughly appreciated by Europeans—or, at ariy rate, by Englishmen. In the last October number of the Edinburgh Review, a brilliant writer, said to be Lord Brougham, closes a series of masterly sketches of the prominent men of the reigns of the two last Georges, by a highly wrought, yet discriminating, eulogy, in which he styles him the “greatest man of our own, or of any age ; —the only one upon whom an epithet so thoughtlessly lavished by men to foster the crimes of their woist enemies, may be innoeeutly and justly bestowed !” In the fulness of patriotic-pride and ‘filial reverence, his countrymen have always entertained this opinion ; but, we believe, Lord Brougham is the first distinguished Englishman who has come up to the American standard, in his es timate of the character of Washington. The following tribute is from a different, but scarcely less distinguished,source. It is from the pen of the Rev. William Jay, of Bath, England. Mr. Jay is, perhaps, the most drs tinguished minister of the gospel, among the Dissenters in Great Britain. His writings ate read and appreciated by effery dei Omination of Christians, and few men hate ever been the honored instrument of more extensive good. The verses have never appeared in print on either side of the Atlantic. B. LINES, Written impromptu, dti seeing the picture of Washing ton’s villa at Mount Vernon. BY KEV. WM. JAY, BATH, ENGLAND. There dwelt the Man, the flow’r of human kind, Whose visage mild bespoke his nobler mind. There dwelt the Soldier, who his sword ne’er drew, Butin a righteous cause to Freedom true. There dwelt the Hero, who ne’er fought for fame, Yet gained more glory than a Caesar’s name— There dwelt the Statesman, who, devoid of art. Gave soundest counsels from an upright heart. And O! Columbia, by thy sons caress'd, There dwelt the Father of the realms he bless'd, ,Who no wish felt to make his mighty praise, Likq other Chiefs, the means himself to raise. But there retiring, breathed in pure renown, ; And felt a grandeur that disdained a Crown. We were presented yesterday morning, by our friend Mr. J. A. Dove, who resides a few miles below this city, with a fine, ripe, and well grown water-melon ! He sent a load of them also to the market on the same morning. He has been using them in his family since the 6th inst. bfeitlg the earliest melons ever rais< and in Richmond county! The one to us was delicious—but we forbear to punish our readers by talking about such good things, when it must be many days yet before thev can be enjoyed by all. We presume the good folks of Habersham and Rabun and the region thereabout have hardly planted yet. Augusta Chronicle & Sentinel. [JCr We have not been so fortunate as to have been presented with one this season, but, we are assured, a load of'them wete exposed for sale, in this'city, yester day. Trice, 75 cents ! Oh, that we had some such friends as Mr. Dove ] Sometime since a report was in circulation in this city, and as we understood, in several other parts of this State, in the highest degree injurious and ruinous to the character ofl)r. Marks’ Female'lnstitute at Barnhamville, near Columbia, S. C. How it originated we never could learn, and as nothing has been heard of it for same weeks, public opinion, wholly in credulous from the first, has already consign, ed the report and its author (whoever he may be) to the infamy they deserve. We now take pleasure in saying that the most incon testible evidence of the utter and'eritife false hood and groundlessness Os the report has been .placed in bur pbssession, and can be seen at bur office. It is from such men as 'tV. C. Preston, F. H. Elmore, B. T. Elmore, Gov. Butler, Wade Hampton, R. B. Rliett and a number of others of the highest respecta bility, who reside in the immediate vicinity of the Institute. The report was a sheer fabri cation without even the slightest circumstance upon which to base it. Editors in Georgia are requested to copy the above. ‘Chronicle <t Sentinel. In America thete are one hundred and twenty differeritspecies of forest trees : where, as in the same latitude in Europe, only thirty, four are to be found. NEW THEATRE. FOR THE BENEFIT OF &228S SSSSAIMmS i MISS MEADOWS respectfully announces to her friends and the public that having received several re quests to appear again, the Manager has kindly ap pointed this evening for her farewell night. This ( Saturday) Evening, June 15<A, Will be presented the tragic play of P H AIBIS ®. Rolla, ..... Mr. F. Brown, Pizarro,, ...... Bailey, Cora, .... Mrs. Hart, And MRS. BAILEY having arrived, will make her first appearance, this season, in the character of ELVIRA. At the end of the Play MISS MEADOWS will sing the celebrated Lamentation of Queen Victoria, for the loss of a well known public character,'en titled “ LONG TIME AGO!” After which the new Farce of WIMKLYC-i A HUSBAND. In which MISS MEADOWS will personate SEVEN DIFFERENT CHARACTERS! smg TWO fa vorite SONGS, nd Dance the SCOTCH FLING, CATUCHA, and the WOOD EN SHOE DANCE. The whole to conclude with a Farewell Address, by Miss Meadows. to* Doors open at 71 o’clock, and curtain to rise at 8 o clock. tOr Tickets to be had at the Central Ho tel, and at the Theatre. And last performance of the Company this season. Monday Evening , June 17?A, When will be presented the Grand Spectacle of BMK BEARD; O, FEMALE CURIOSITY. With flew -and splendid Scenery, Dresses, Decora, tiotie, ate.—a fat a favorite piece, in which MISS MEADOWS will appear. In the course If the evening a great variety of ■ongw, Ooettai Ohoresses aid Danes*. ANALEKTA— No. 2. Reader, gentle reader, how didst thou Analekta ? Did our reading:, ,uit thy mantal taate .. weli as our Chambertin suited thy palate ? that, at must have pleaaed thee, for verily, thou didst drinlr u even 10 the l« drop-for when we Hught for 1 ' little to moisten our parched palate, lo! the bottl. empty! However, here is more of the 7* service ; anti ilbw take thy .eat, fill thy glass W,, a regalia, and mttc thyself “comfortable," J* cater again for’thy amusement, and, peradventure Z thy instruction. *. r ! never shake thy head norli! sour, because we speak of instruction: Why should w. no. always receive h, even m ourredmenfsof ease .7 recreauon, ,f it cothe to us coupled with VnusetauS! And we will tell thee a secret, Sear reader, whichih!J be profitable to thee, hereafter. The knowledge, winch many men of great eminence are endowed with, ha. been mostly acquired, not so much by hard labor and intense study, as by their constant attention to seize upon and treasure up the various little particle, of know ledge which are always to be found floating down the stream of time in our daily intercourse with the world The virgin gold which is dug from the deep mine with infinite hardship and labor, is not more valuable, ndr more pure, than the fine gold dust which the African savage gathers from the waters of his mighty rivers by merely washing the sand : and with how much more ease is the latter got! So with knowledge; a vast a mouht of it, which is of great value and .daily useful ness may be gained by fostering habits of observation of what passes around us, and separating the pure me* tel from the -stand which accompanies it. But thou dids’t not come here to hear us preach, and that yawn has recalled us to our duty. Tak i one more racy ex tract from “L’Abri,” and then we will look again into our literary store. Mr. Willis, it would seem, meets with some curious specimens of the gmut Homo in hit retreat, and he hits them off very hsppily: take this one'fbr instance— “ A third person is one of my neighbors, who can see nothing done without showing you a ‘ ’cute: way,’ and who, sitting on the sill of the barn, is amusing himself, quite of his ewn accord, with beheading, cleaning and picking an unfortunate duck, whose leg was accidentally bteken by the flail. His volun 'tary occupation is stimulated by neither inter, est nOr good nature, but is simply the itching to be doing something, which, in one shape or another, belongs to every genuine Jonathan. Near him, in cow-hide boots, frock of fustian, and broadffirimmed sombrero of coarse straw, stands, breathing from a bout with the flail, the individual stem whbm I have stepped apart, and upon whose morning’s worth of existence you shall put a philosopher’s estimate. “ I presume my three hours’ labor might be done for about three shillings—my mind, mean, time, being entirely occupied with what I was about, calculating the number of bushels to the acre, the price of corn farther down the river, and between whiles, discussing the me rits of a patent corn-shellcr, which we had abandoned for the more laborious but quicker process of thrashing. “ *Purty ’cute tool!’ says my neighbor, giv ing the machine a look out of the corner of his yellow eye, 4 but tcoo slow! Corn ought to come off ravin’ distracted. ’Taint no use to eat it up in labor. Where was that got out?’ 4,4 ’Twas invented in Albany, I rather think.’ “‘Wal, I guess t’want. It’s a Varmount notion. Rot them Green Mountingers! they’re a spiling the country. People won’t work when them things lay round. Have you heern of a machine for buttoning your gallowses behind ?’ “ ‘No, I have not.’ “‘Wal, I’ve been expecting on’t. There aint no other hard work they haint economiz. ed. Is them your hogs in the garding ?’ “Three vast porkers had nosed open the gate, during the discussion, and were making the best of theiropportunities. After a vigo rous chase, the latch was closed upon them securely, and my neighbor resumed hit duck. “ ‘ls there no way of forcing people to keep those brutes at home,’ I asked of my silent tenant. “ ‘Yes, sir. The law provides that you may shut them up, and send word to the owners to come and take them away.’ “‘Wal! It’s a chore, if you ever tried it, to catch a hog if lie’s middlin’ spry, and when he’s cotch, you’ve got to feed him, by law, till he’s sent for; and it don’t pay, mister.’ “‘ButyOu can chaige for the feed,’ says 'the other. “ ‘Pesky little, I tell ye. Pig fodder’s cheap, and they don’t pay you for carrying on’t to'm, nor for catching the critters. It’s a losin’con sarn.’ 44 ‘Suppose J shoot them.’ “ ‘Sartin you can. The owner ’ll put his vally on it, and you can have as much pork at that price as ’ll fill your barn. The hull neighb’rhood ’ll drive their hogs into your gar ding.’ 44 I saw that my neighbor had looked at the matter allround; but I was sure, from his manner, that he could, if encouraged, suggest a remedy for the nuisance. “ ‘I would .give a busliel of that handsome corn,’ said J, ‘to know how to be rid of them. “ ‘Be SO perlite as to measure it out, mister, while I head in that hog. I’ll show you how the deacon kept ’em out of the new buryin ■g ourid While the fence was buildin’.’ “ He laid down the duck, which was, by this time, fairly picked, and stood a moment looking at the three hogs, now leisurely turning up the grass at the road-side. For a reason which I did not at the moment conceive, he presently made a dash at'the thinnest of the three, a hungry-looking brute, built with an approach to the grey-hound, and missed catch ing him by an arm’s length. Unluckily f° r the hog, however, the road was lined with crooked rail-fence, which deceived him with, constant piomise of escape by a short turn, and by skilful heading off, and a most indq»-. trious chase of some fifteen minutes, hk was cornered at last, and secured by the bind “ ‘A hog,’ said he, dragging him along with the greatest gravity, ‘hates a straight line like pizen. If they’d run right on eend, you’d ne ver catch ’em in natur. Like some folks, amt it ? Boy, fetch me « skrimmage of them whole corn,’ “Ho drove tl>* bog before him, whcelbar tow fashion, into an open cow-pen, and put U P the bars. The boy (his son, who had ho® ll waiting for him outside the barn) brought him a few ears of rip* corn, and as soon * the hog had recovered his breath a little, he threw them into the pen, and drew out a knife fr 0 " 1