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gratitude w» to be found in mkl about' the
court —but it required some courage in one
.depending upon its favors to avow a contrary
.sentiment. However, this frank deportment
of our Minister did not seem to displease his
_»e!f-nnde neighbor, who immediately entered
: into, and continued a familiar conversation with
him during the wiioie duration of the march
he having soon found out from his tone and
language .who he was. Since that singular
.introduction, Wellington was exceedingly
courteous towards Mr. Crawford, and con
- tinued so whilst tlicy both resided at the French
capitoi. He it was who having, in the midst
of the night received a courier with the an
nouncement «'f the .signature of the treaty of
peace at Ghe it, was-the first to have it com.
inunicated, with his own congratulations, to our
minister. Never was slumber more agreeably
disturbed than was that at the America*! lega
tion that night.
The penurious salaries allowed our diplo
matic agents abroad, a fact which may at first
glance appear unim,>ortant, is nevertheless ex
tremaly detrimental both to tins individuals
sent, and to the prosecution of the interests
(CuufiJjd to t'teir care—one which, as an
American loving his country, and having
personally not the least interest in the matter,
we wish we could seriously impress upon the
common sense, justice, and generosity of our
people—that circumstance, we say, bore with
peculiar hardship upon Mr. Crawford, himself
almost without any property of his own.
Aware of this, he had left his numerous family
pa his farm, and had alone repaired to Europe.
Whilst on one side, in the honesty of his
heart he had promised himself that there he
would spend the wiole of his salary, justice
to his growing .family had likewise led him to
hope that no encroachment upon bis diminu
tive individual property would be rendered
necessary. The promise was rigidly kept,
but the hope could not be realized. His es.
tablishment befitted his official character—
was neither the most elegant, *or the least so,
of the diplomatic circle. But in the dispensa
tion of his civilities he was, as all our Ministers
era, much more stinted than he should have
been*--and, although from the nature of cir
cumstances, he must inevitably receive invita
tions without number, but very few could he
reciprocate. Between the alternatives of re
ceiving without returning, or of ruining him
self, ho chose a medium course—declining
civilities extended to him by strangers, and
keeping his house open to his fellow.citizens
alone and a few other distinuished characters
who sought his familiar society Every
American citizen who visited Paris at that
period , must remember that his table and
board were liberally accessible to him, and
will readily render justice to the frankness and
repuhlican-like manner \vith which bis hospi.
tality was tendered.
His intimates among the French, were La
favette, Birbe MiU'hois, Baron de Stael, son of
Midam do Stael, the venerable Dupont do
Nemours, and Benjamin Constant. They
seamed to find great pleasure in his society,and
frequently courted his advice even on matters
relating to the politics of their own country.
Through the first named it was, that in 1814,
after Napoleons downfall, but whilst we were
still at war with Great Britain, Mr. Crawford
was enabled to ascertain the favorable impres
sion entertained by the Emperor Alexander
towards our country, and of his desire to bring
about a reconciliation between England and
the United States. This indirect conversation
by the means of Lafayette, whom Alexander,
although his political antipode, personally re
spected, was frequent and animated. Asa
proof that the Emperor highly valued the opin
ion of the American statesman, he requested
from him a clear and succint narrative of the
causes of our differences with England, which
was handed him by General Lafayette. The
ardent desire shown by Alexander upon this
score, renders it more than probable that the
opinion of the leader of the holy alliance, so
termed, had considerable weight with the Bri
tish cabinet, who certainly, in the latter stage
of the negociation, had shifted around, and
considerably deviated from the stiffness of their
original pretensions.
During the time that Mr. Crawford’s mis
sion lasted, from 1313 to 1915, events of a
most important character as affecting the face
of the civilized world, happened at tlie French
capitol. The affairs of Franee had now reach,
ed the lowest ebb. Efforts, amounting to he
roism, were now making by Napoleon to stem
the last blow aimed by the whole combined
Europe, at the heart of that devoted country.
Little time was left the Emperor and his min
istry to attend to negociations not having for
their immediate object the salvation of the
country. Thus it is, that Mr. Crawford was i
unable to bring to a successful issue the advo
cacy of our claims for indemnity, although
he ceased not to press the subject upon the at
tention of the French government as strenu
ouslyjas decency and the unfortunate state of
circumstances did then allow, But although
he could not possibly accomplish the principal
object of his mission, he was far from remain,
ing inactive at his post; and the passing events
that followed each other with fearful rapidity,
afforded Mr. Crawford an opportunity of show
ing his government of what degree of perspi
cacity his mind was capable. Mis correspon
dence with the department of state would tes
tify both as to his industry and to the wisdom
with which he, at an early period, prophesied
what did subsequently happen.
In Paris, the interest became more and more
intense as the enemy with his millions of bay
onets narrowed the circle within which, what
remained of the French army had to move.
Napoleon, by one of those decisive and un
expected movements, that had so often sue-;
cceded before, abruptly and with a chosen few,
forced a passage through the ranks, and from
being within, found himself out side the circle,
bearing upon the enemy’s rear, whom ho ex
pected by that moans to have thrown into dis
order. But, whether it was that the allies felt
confident of their immense numeroial superi
only, or, as has been asset tod bv Napoleon,
that they knew not, in their confosion, what
to do .ji is, nevertheless, tire fact, that instead
of receding, they posited onward. The can
non was toon within hearing of the capital.
M irmnnt, tyho had been ordered to defend it
tq tho last, did qii the contrary v eld, after a
bloody f»'tl uselet* conflict had taken place
under the very walla. Inside of this town,
wliicb, since the wars between the French and
English monarch for the possession of the
Freuch crown, had not seen a foreign foe, all
was consternation and despair. How the ex
asperated soldiery of the coalition might be
have after tr.eir entrance into it, no one could
possibly tell, and a general plunder was much
apprehended.
In this emergency, it behoved the Ameri
can Minister, both on account of his national
dignity, and because of its being now made
the depository of certain funds, the property
of the United States, which had previously
been deposited with the bankers, but were
now placed here for greater safety; it be
: came him, we say, to take measures for the
protection of the hotel of the legation ; and
accordingly, Mr. Crawford ordered the nation
al flag to be hoisted over his door ; but there
iavas not such a thing as a flag of the United
Stai-as to be had in .Paris for love or money.
Great indeed was the anxiety, which grew
more and more intense, as reports came in
every moment announcing the approach of the
Cossacks. At every cost, the neutrality of
the American hotel must be preseived, and
there existed no means of doing that, as long
as it was not marked by the ordinary national
sign. Instructions were given for the pur.
chase of the materials to make a flag; but the
merchants were fighting at the gates ; all the
shops were shut up; and it was not without
the greatest difficulty, and after a long and
tedious search, that blue, white and red patches
could be assembled sufficient for its comple
j tion. The scene was now worthy of a pain
ter’s pencil. Into a tai™’s shop was trans
formed the Legation of the United States,
whose Minister Extraordinary, with his Sec
retaries, busied themselves in cutting or rath
er tearing, for time was precious, and then
putting together rather unartist-like, as may
well be imagined, the stripes of the star span
gled banner! At this remote and quiet peri
od, and when it is considered that the appre
, hensions then entertained of violation, were
!not realized,/this little episode may seem to be
trifling and superfluous; but the event itself was
not so. Agitation sat upon every countenance;
American citizens, with their families, flocked
for protection under the roof of their Minister;
and the fears of the former, contrasted with
the calm earnestness of the latter, imparted
to the whole an interest, the recollection of
which time has not obliterated..
Nor can it be supposed, that the apprehen
sions then felt were imaginary, as is evidenced
by the fact, that so close to the city were the
enemy, that a cannon ball struck in the garden
of the American hotel, where it was picked up.
Here again did Mr. Crawford exhibit that
character—a fearlessness of all personal dan
ger—be possessed to so high a degree. De
sirous of witnessing the rare and awful specta
cle of a field of battle, he repaired to one of the
gates near which they were at the time enga
ged—and here he desired to be allowed to go
out, that he might, from the heights of Mont
martre, take a general view of tire bloody
strife. But the officer commanding at the
gate remonstrated, and observed to him that
to go then would be attended with the greatest
risk, as there was a cross-fire carried on be
tween those heights and the plain below. Mr.
Crawford insisted, however, and upon men
tioning whom he was, requested that per
mission be asked to that effect of the comman
der-in-chief, whose answer was soon received.
It was an imperative and absolute refusal.
To his great mortification, he had to return —
and could only visit the field of battle after the
capitulation had taken place, which he imme
diately did. To hio view was it exhibited in
its most awful aspect. Deprived of action,
there remained of it nothing but the sad result,
the dying and the dead ; and among the heart,
rending scens we have heard him describe was,
that hearing some groans proceeding from
under a heap of dead bodies, he, by the removal
of some of them, discovered a poor fellow in
whom life was not yet extinct, but who was
nearly crushed under the weight of bodies that
had fallen over him !
Time had hardly been given unfortunate
France to breathe quietly under the inglorious
reign of the Bourbons, when, in March, 1815,
Napoleon’s Eagle plucked and trampled under
foot the fleurs de Lys. Some men of the
liberal party, who had fancied that they might
have snatched from the weak Bourbons a grea
ter degree of liberty than they ever could ex
pect from Napoleon, exhibited a violent oppo
sition to the Emperor’s return. Some of them
wrote violent phillippies against him, and a
mong them, in particular, the celebrated Benja.
min Constant. By a singular fatality, owing
to the extreme rapidity of Napoleon’s move
ments from his place of landing in France, the
strongest of those appeals to the French against
the Usurper, as he was then called bj Constant
appeared in the French papers the very morn,
ing the Emperor entered the capitol. How.
ever great was the capacity of the philoso
pher’s head, no le-s pusillanimous was he as a
man ; and he now trembled least the power
ful man he bad so Juntimely apostrophised
would now visit him with his wrath. Constant
knew not where to hide his head, until he
bethought himself of Mr. Crawford, upon whose
kindness and mercy he threw himself. Mr.
Crawlord’s ministerial capacity could not have
allowed him to make of his house a political
sanctuary, but far different was the present
case. The event had, without his agency,
actually taken place, and honor and delicacy
forbade that by his agency it should now he
averted. The most cordial hospitality was
extended to the proscribed during the time,
which was several weeks, he kept in his hiding
place. His uneasiness was rather increased
when he understood that the Emperor had re
peatedly sent to his house for the purpose of
enquiring where he was to be found. After
proposing several contrivances for the final
disposition of uts person, one of which was to
go and embark at Nantes, by stealth for the
United States, he was, after a great deal of
persuasion by some of his political friends,
among whom was General Lafayette, induced
to present himself voluntarily before Napoleon,
and to abide by the consoquences. We have
hoard this interview related by a witness, and
bore give as we received it.
Mr. Constant having entered the apartment,
“ advance,” said the Emperor in an uuthorative j
j tone. And as Constant seemed to hesitate,— !
*• Eh' que Liable, avnncez don* que je vous
THE SOUTHERN POST.
ernbrasse.” He then added : “ Vous m’avez
hai pareeque vons ne me connaissiez pas; moi
je vous honore, pareeque vous etes un hormete
homme. Monsieure Benjamin Constant, je
vous fais Baron.”
One may easily conceive the pleasurable
wonderment of the philosopher whose philoso
phy did but ill resist such a burst from such a
man, and with that manner so peculiar to him
self. Napoleon knew well how to act upon
the human heart—he was in fact the man of
antithesis. But to return to Benjamin Con-;
stant—proofs of his excessive timidity, to call
; it by tlie most indulgent name, abound, and
among others, the following. VVhen, on some
nublia occasion he was professing in enthusias.
tic terms his republicanism, and bad ad led,
.that strict adherence to one's principles should
be evinced, even unto death—
“ Why then,” rejoined one present, “did
you, Baron, bow before Napoloen ?”
“ Because,” replied he, “ I am not a princi
ple. You may stifle a principle, but if you
stiflle a man" * * * *
Mr. Crawford’s political life is before the
people, and that we leave'to abler pens to por-:
tray. But in the discursive remarks we have j
made, we cannot omit a circumstance connec
ted with his ministerial mission—one which
we have already, on a more public occasion, |
stated, going for from its peculiar nature to-’
wards substantiating what we have asserted of
his highmindedness, and of the nobleness of,
character. As we have previously stated, a
sort of indirect communication had been car-)
ried on by the medium of Lafayettee, between
Alexander and Mr. Crawford. Pending this
a proposition, indirect, at first, but which, if
countenanced, would eventually have been
rendered serious, was hinted, that our claims
for in lemnity might be included in the ae- j
count adduced by the confessed powers
against France. The amount of our’s was
a mere trifle when compared with the ex-'
cessive demands into which almost unfelt, it;
would thus have been merged. But no sooner
was the idea thrown out, than Mr. Crawford
unhesitatingly repelled the proposition, alleging
that “It were not for the United States,the|
most ancient and perhaps only friend France ;
then had, to join her enemies at the worst j
period of her adversity ; that, determined as j
they were to see justice ultimately done them,
the United States would, notwithstanding, wait
for better times.”
Now, we fear not to aver, that to take upon
hwnsdlf such a determination, without instruc
tions from home, at such a moment, when
hopes of final remuneration were faint indeed ;
when a contrary course would no doubt have
gathered him at home an immense harvest of
popularity ; simultaneausly to do an act so self
denying, so much stamped with a noble gene
rosity, denotes a man who considers the settle
ment of a question of dollars and cents far
inferior to the preservation of national charac
ter—the true wealth of a nation.
Pam, 1839.
THE CHEAT,
OR THE OLD MAN OUTDONE.
“ Well Julia, suppose i ask your father any
how, his refusal cannot make things much
wose than they are at present. Suspense
Julia is tlie cause of the most miserable feel
ings.”
“ We must not be hasty. Robert, our situa
tion requires caution ; by a little management
we may possibly succeed, gloomy as the pros
pect appears to be. Now don’t say any thing
[to pa about it yet—l had much rather you
would not. The best possible way for us to
accomplish our wishes is not to advance too
soon.’*
“ Too soon—too soon, Julia. Ha-c we not
waited two years and more I and have you not
; been preaching the same doctrine of “ too
[soon” all the while? Too soon indeed ?”
I “ Well now, don’t be angry; throw that
j from your countenance, and look pleasant and
! we’ll immediately set about some plan by
[which to effect what you so much desire.
| Come, smile away your anger,—the skies of
[love are sometimes clear.”
[ Robert Moultrie had loved Julia Hallowell
[and she loved him; about four years and
more had passed since they had agreed, come
weal come wo, they would trudge through life
together - Two long, long years! Two
years would seem to be an eternity to wait
upon the eve of bliss and to delay the happy
[consummation.
Julia’s father was a wealthy shipper of the
port of Charleston, South Carolina. Some old
inhabitant may remember the firm of Hallo well
& Haddington. He was an upright and
highly honorable man ; but whose ipse dixit
was law supreme whenever his power could be
exercised.
Robert Vloultrie was a clerk in the counting
room, and his salary which was his sole de
pendance though far above the pittance allowed
for the services of young men similarly situa- !
ted and amply sufficient to warrant him in
assuming the expenses of a family, did not
elevate him to that importance in society which
would justify him in presuming upon the hand
and heart of the daughter of a wealthy ship
per.
The character of this young gentleman was j
unimpeachable, and he was as much respected
for his talents as he was for his correct de
portment ; but (but is a wicked word) the
curse of Giugaukin was on him —he was
poor.
Robert had been in the counting-room of
Mr. Hallowell since he was fourteen years of
age, he had grown up in his family and by the
sid of this lovely heiress who had been promised
to a thing of wealth and show ; that thing was
un the Indies, amassing riches to lay at the
I feet of his beautiful bride, but his soul had on
it the stain of dishonor and Julia had vowed
before God he should never call her wife.
Mr. Hallowell knew that Rohert generally at - j
tended his daughter to church, went and came
with her when she visited her friends, and so
on ; but he never dreamed that the wiley Cu
pid was witching his darts successfully in the
bosom of both; and the arrows of the little
god were firmly fixed, and he dealt out the
silken cord until they were far out upon the
sea of love, too far to proceed or return with,
out each other.
•*I)o tell me Robert what is the matter with
you ? I have been a witness to your down
cast looks and sorrowful appearance until I
have grown melancholy myself. What’s the
matter boy ?’
This question was asked by Mr. Hallowe
one day, when he and Robert -were in tin
counting room alone, and if any individual ha
ever passed through a like fiery trial, he can
have some idea of Robert’s feelings when t ie
man whose dauglrter he loved, and was-con
triving the best plan to ge from him the se
cret causeofhis downcast looks, and addressed
him in such kind and affect.onate language.
It went too deep, however into the secrets of
Robert’s bosom for him to return a quick re
ply. Mr. Hallowell plainly saw that some
thing was working upon his mind that made him
unhappy, and he wished if possible to remove
the cause ; he urged a candid revellation of all
that affected his feelings, and promised his as
sistance to relieve him whatever it required.
Robert succeeded however, in putting him off
for that time, and trembled at the thought
when at their next meeting he related the mat
ter to Julia.
‘I thought,’ said she laughing, ‘ you were
not so anxious to ask the old gentleman as you
appeared to be; now that was a stumper
Robert. Why did you not tell him? Why
did you not ?—Ha ! ha !’
‘Juba, do you think he suspects us ?’
* Not a whit more than he does the King of
the French !’
“ Well Julia, to tell the truth about the mat
ter, 1 left you this morning with the intention
of telling him all about our affection for each
other; and if he refused I am determined to
act for myself without fuither advice; but
when I came before him I felt something in
my throat choakiug me, and I could scarcely
talk to him about business, much less about
love affairs.’
The lovers met often, and the voyage from
the Indies being threatened,it became necessary
that they should prepare for the trials that
seemed to await them. In short Mr. Hallowell
was endeavoring to ascertain the cause of his
clerk’s unhappiness more for the good of the
young man than that he cared for the unim
portant errrors made by him in his accounts.
The next opportunity that offered, he repeated
his former question and insisted on an imme
diate reply. Robert stuttered and stammered
a good deal, and at last came out with it: —
‘ I am attached to a young lady in this city,
sir, an I have reason to believe she is as much
attached to me, but there is uu obstacle in the
way, and ’
‘Ay, indeed. And does the obstacle a
mount to more than a thousand dollars ? If
it does not you shall not want it. I’ll fill you
up a check now. Have all the parties con
sented ?’
‘ Why, sir, the cause of my —the reason —
the—that is—the cause of my uneasiness is,
I am afraid tier father will not consent.’
“ Will not consent! Why? Who is he, re
fer him to me, I’ll settle the m itter.’
‘ He is a rich man, sir, and I am not rich.’
‘ His daughter loves you, does she ?’
-1 think—l—yes sir-’
‘ She says she does, any how, don’t she-’
‘ Why, I—yes—she—she—yes, sir, she has
said as much.’
‘ls the old fellow very rich ?’
‘ I believe, sir, he is tol—tolerably well
off.’
‘ And he wont consent ? By the powers of
love he must l.e an old Turk—he won’t Itey?
Here, give me his name, I’ll settle the matter ;
but stop, has lie anything against you ? Is he
acquainted with your character ? Does he
know me?
Here the old gentleman went over a string
of questions which Robert felt no disposition
to answer, and which it is not worth while to
relate. The conclusion of tlie conference left
Robert in the possession of a check for one
thousand dollars, a letter of introduction to
Parson Green, of tlie Presbyterian church, and
tlie following advice from tlie lips of his father
in-law in perspective. He was to run away
with the girl—to use his (Mr. Ilallowell’s)
carriage, and George, his black waiter, was to
drive it, and so forth.
Robeit governed himself in strict accor
dance with the advice given ; and before dark
the parties were before Parson Green, whose
scruples of conscience were quieted by the
introductory letter. They were soon pro
nounced husband and wife ; jumped in the
carriage, followed by the blessing of Parson
Green, whose fee was a small part of the
thousand dollar check. George was directed
to drive the carriage to a rich old childless
uncle of Robert’s who lived about five miles
from the city, to whom the secret was told.
The old man thought tlie joke too good a one
not to be enjoyed, and sent out for some of;
his neighbors. Midnight found tho jovial
assembly destroying the good things aunt had
provided, and laughing over the trick so suc
cessfully played upon the wealthiest shipper of
the South.
Early in the morning, Robert and Mrs.
Moultrie were attended by their uncle and aunt
to the house of Mr. Hallowell; the young
couple anxious fortheeflervesenceofa father’s
wrath to be over, and the antiquated pair to
witness the reception, and to act is modifica.
tors on the question. They were met in the
parlor by Mr. Hallowell, whose first words
were :
‘ You young rouge, you ; little did I know
how my advice was to act upon me. Well,
Robert,’ he added, laughing heartily, you
caught me that time ; and you deserve to be
rewarded for the generalship you have dis
played. Here, my boy—my son, I suppose
I must say—here is a deed for property worth
eleven thousand dollars, and from henceforth
yo i are my partner in business.’
A writer in the New-York Spirit of the
'Times, calls the ceremo y of young ladies
kissing each other, “ a dreadful waste of the
raw material."
Dean Swift’s barliei one day told him. that
he had taken a public house. •* And what’s
your sign ?” said the Dean. “Oh, the poli-j
and the basin ; nnd if your reverence would;
just write me a few to put upon it by
way of motto, I have no doubt it would draw j
me plenty of customers.” The Dean took
out Ins pencil, and wrote the following couplet,
which long graced the barber’s sign :
“ Kove not from pole to pole, but itop in here,
Where naught excel* the (having but the beer.” j
From the SavanWah'Georgian.
THE PRINTING BUSINESS.
The Art of printing has done more, per
■ qis, for civilization, than all other indentions
put together. It paved the way tor great and
nighty improvements in Mechanics, in the:
bine Arts, and lent its powerful aid toScience.
by enabling a Galileo,a Copernicus, a Newton. 1
o open even the firmament of Heaven to om
view, and point out the planetary bodies loi
our insj-ection.
In tlie early stage of printing, no one was
|>ermitted to become acquainted with its inys
leries, who had not arrived at the age of dis
ctetion, and who-was not distinguished for
scholastic attainments. Subsequently, how
ever, owing to the facilities that wereaffoided
by the many improvements in the mode of
casting types, there arose a great demand for
books, and consequently, for printers. The
ranks of the educated were drained, and yet
enough of operatives could not be obtained.
Then it was that the arcana of printing were,
revealed to the grosser mass. For ages, how
ever, none were taken, as pupils, or apprenti-
ces who were not versed in their vernacular
tongue,at least,and otherwise liberally instruct
ed. To secure their respectability, a large
premium was demanded, and paid, by the pa
rents or guardians of the tyro, for the instruc
tions about to be imparted to them, ffn the
reign of Edward VI, the premium which a
master-printer received with an apprentice,
was one thousand pound* sterling—-or not far
from SSOOO. And, even at the present day,
few printers take apprentices in the British
European dominions, for a less sum than one
hundred pounds sterling.
No youth should be taken to learn the bu.
siness who has not a desire for it*—or who is
not sufficiently educated to make it useful to
him. As an occupation, it certainly Stands at
the very top of the column of all mechanical
arts ; and it should, and does, take the lead
wherever mind is concerned. It may be liken
ed to a school, where there is no vacation, and
where the student is always improving and
acquiring something new.
Is he of a mechanical turn, he delights -in
the details of some new invention —the nine
hundred and ninety-ninth attempt to discover
the perpdtua/motiim, while he sets up the para
graph, so minutely discriptive of this cog and
that wltee. Is he fend of “ the musicof sweet
sounds,” he is enraptured with a poetical
morceau —the offering of some inspired bard,
to his “ ladye love”—the lyric of some modern
Anacreon—or the more noble and soulstirring
|si rains of those who have drank deep of the
'same stream which gave vigor and three to a
| Schiller, or a Korner, who toid of deeds of
| battle and renown, of gory fields strewn with'
; the dead and dying, who bled and fell for lib
erty—while tie transmits their achievements
jto a benighted world, through the medium of
his metal types —these humble slaves, fore’er
obedient to his will. Does he thirst for clas
sic lore, he may turn over the leaves of the
historian Sallust—<>f the .poet Horace—or run
riot in the while lie numbers his lines
to make up his page lor tlie edification and in
struction of mankind- Is he a sage, and;
philosophic, liecan consult Plato.-- advice
from Socrates, and glean lessons of wisdom
from Aristotle—without leaving his proper
study, the printing-office. Would lie acquire
a knowledge >f tlie law, tlie Pandects of Jus
tinian—the tomes of Coke and Littleton, and
the luminous commentaries of Blackstone,
may be made subservient to his wishes, as he
follows his daily occupation. He may cull
the beauties of Shakcs|>eare, and the old En-;
glish dramatists—or if he loves them more, the
majestic creations of a Racine, a Corneille— ;
or laugh at, and witn, the comic fancies of ai
Moliere—all while lie plies his hand along that;
matlieinaticaJ case for which lie is indebted to
tlie genius of a Stanhope, and which contains
the impliments of his glorious art. Would
tie be a polished gentleman, he can, from his
familiarity with the volume, produce a most
improved edition of Chesterfield, wlienever he
i pleases.
All these, and many more works, a practi
cal printer is frequently engaged in di ring his
career—to say nothing of lexicons, dictiona
ries, szc.—truly he must be very dull indeed,
if he does not tui n them to his own advantage.
His opportunity for acquiring knowledge, is
: certainly superior to any other class in life ;
and in his case it may be truly said that knowl
edge turns to gold—for by its exercise he
lives.
Our remarks, of course, apply to a “ practi.
cal printer”—but a young man may serve his
time in a newspaper office (the best place for
expertness) and yet acquire a knowledge of
book printing, by attention, while working in
a book office. Hundreds of the best com
positors in the Uuion have done so.
We were led to make these observations by
perusing the subjoined article, in tlie New
York Evening Star, of the Bth mst. We are
happy to find that the business is looking up.
To the New York and Washington Typo
graphical Associations the fraternity are much
indebted—for at the period of the formation
of the New York Association, the trade was
at its lowest ebb, from the inundation of run
away apprentices, or persons under the age
of 21 ; and it was the Washington Society
that blew up the notable scheme of General
Duff Green, some years ago, which designed
to introduce and keep up an army of 500 ap
prentices, a great number of whom were to be
discharged every year, and sent abroad on the
great world to do the best they could. The
futility of the plan was apparent to every
practical eye ; yet, but for the determined op
position of that Association, hundreds of youths
would be ruined, and much valuable time lost
to them, at that interesting period of life, when
the deepest impressions are usually made,
whether for weal or for wo. We now sub
mit the article from the Star ; its recommend
ations are just, and its hints worthy of notice,
by all interested:
Journeymen Printers. —There is said to be
u scarcity generally of Journeymen Printers,
which is to be ascribed to the increase of book
and newspaper printing, corresponding with
tlie nicrea.se of population, and also to tlie fact
tint fewer apprentices are taken in this busi
ness. Within tlie last seven years there has
been an evident improvement in the character
and habits of Journeymen Printers. Although
tlie business is by no means laborious or pain
ful, and the -press work exceedingly
late, yet so it was'that some years ago J our ;
..eyitten Pimlera, Witn exceptions oT cour. *
were ranked as an intemperate body of me •
*ud ot very Unsteady characters. Tins m''
nave been tlie cause why lew boys of educia'
non and family were apprenticed to the huaf
..ess. It is a pleasiire nbw to witness the im*
prOVenieUt in tne character and denortmem ~r
Class df nfechhrtics in and business
.mbits, and'that fact should'efic&urege parent,
of respectability 'to appten'tlde their sons so
t..e business, provided they are disposed to
.earn some mechanical trade. Os the high
character of the printing business, the rank “it
’.akes, and always wil (take, the great men who
nave followed it, and the great consequences
resulting Irom it, not a word is Requited so be
said ; it i s tlie great moral leVer whicli con
t roles the civilized world A reform, however
is required in taking apprentices, at least to the
newspaper if not to the book department;
Boys of about thirteen years old, of families
m easy circumstances,—living with their pa;
rents, and familiar with all the elements of the
English language, having a plain but substan
cml education, are most desirable. Instead of
commencing, as is usual, by making devils of
them, so called, by placing them to menial oc
cupations, they should at once be placed at
the-case with a composing stick in hand, and
Jenm to set type, which can soon be done.
Their parents should provide for them altogeth.
er, their employer allowing them a weekly
sum, to be increased annually according to
their merits—they should have a daily and an
easy task and be paid for Overwork, by way
of encouraging industry ; they should go to
night school during the Winter, learn languages
at their leisure, be practised as good proof
readers, have the use of the exchange papers
to study politics and the general affairs of the
country ; practise writing articles for the sev
eral departments of the paper, and when a boy
is out of his lime he is a complete printer, a
good proof reader, understands the languages,
is a well educated gentleman, and probably a
good editor, and he does honor to the proses.
sion and soon finds himself on the road to all.
vancemeiit.
EARLY RISING.
The following testimony in favor of early
rising, and persuasion to the practice, address
ed to those who are without experimental
knowledge of its advantages, is from the Cin
cinnati Republican:
Who would not rise early on a beautiful
morning ? Gentlemen, awake from your
slumbers, with the dawn ; mount your horses
and ride out, to partake of the freshness of the
atmos 'here; climb the green hills that sur.
round our noble city •; and while listening to
the singing birds, watch for the coming day’s
bright orb. And you, ladies ! rise early also;
and scent the morning air, which like soothing
balm, comes fresh from the brows of the far
off mountains ; go forth at the hour when the
lark first awakes his song of joy to the God
of nature ; at the moment when the sun leaves
his bed of Crimson arid yellow and the first
notes of the morning hymn float softly and
beautifully through jour open casements. —
Put on your bonnets, and away to the green
fields—arouse the soft perfumes from the.r
couches on the bosoms of the gay young flow.
ers-*-bruslt with your pretty feet the sparkling
dews from the grass, for soon they will be ex
haled by the soothing rays of the noon-day
sun ; refresh your lips with the pure waters of
the gliding streamlets. Would you improve
your minds, up with the first beam of morn,
and go forth to scan the beauties of nature,
then in her sublimest mood-. Are you in ill
health? seek the “spirit stirring” air of the
earliest dawn. Would you add a rose to your
beauty, court to your cheeks nature’s rougo
that is blent with the morning winds f
Then up and away with the morning's dawn,
To gather sweet flowers on the dewy lawn.
A Yankee boy and a Dutch boy went to
school to a Yankee schoolmaster, who accor
ding to usage, enquired.
“ What’s your name ?”
“My name is Aaron"
“Spell it.”
“Great A little a-r-o-H.”
“ That’s a man take your seat.”
Next came the Dutch boy—“ What’s j-our
name ?’’
“ My name is Hauns.”
“ Spell it.”
“ Great Hauns, little Hauns, r-o-n.” That’s
a man sit down.
RECEIPTS.
CURE FOR THE STING OF A WASP OR BEE.
A Liverpool paper states as follows;—“ A
few days ago, happening to be in the country,
we witnessed the efficacy of the remedy of a
sting of a wasp, mentioned in one of our late
papers. A little boy was stung severely and
was in gieat torture, until an onion was ap
plied to the part affected, when the cure was
instantaneous. This important and simple
remedy cannot be too generally known, and
we pledge ourselves to the fact above stated.
DESTROYING INSECTS BY CAMOMILE.
In the Irish Gardener’s Magazine it is sta
ted not only that decoctions of the leaves dried
and powdered of the common Camomile, will
destroy insects, but that nothing contributes so
much to the health of a garden as a number
of camomile plants dispersed through it. No
green house or hot house should ever be with,
out a camomile in a green or dried state;
either the stalks or the flowers will answer.
It is a singlar fact, that if a plant is drooping
and apparently dying, in nine cases out often,
it will recover if you place a plant of camo
mile near it.
TO DESTROY COCKROACHES.
Poke root boiled in water and mixed with a
good quantity of molasses, set about the kiten*
en, the pantrys, &c. in large deep plates, wil
tend to kill the cockroaches in great number*
and finally rid the house of them. The Indi
ans say that poke root boiled into a soft p° u ’
tice is a cure for the bite of a snake.
Half a wine glass of olive oil. taken inwardly
is said to be a certain cure for the bite of •
rattlesnake and other poisonous reptile*. A lit
tle should also be applied to the wound.