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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.