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from tin- Oi.n> Statesman. THE ANSWER fF TWENTY-EIGHT .METHODISTS TO THE DEV. DIE IIA SCO.MB’S CERTIFICATE OF MU. CLAY’S MORALITY. \V!iy is’il tliat so rauclj sensibility is ex cited ? Why such holy horror munilested.'' Why so much flattering heard anion;* the partisan presses throughout the length and breadth of the land, when the moral ity of a candidate for the most exalted station \\ uliin the [lower of the people to confer on any man is made the subject of legitimate inquiry ? Is it because that people are to bo debarred the privilege o! investigation into the life and conduct ol die man who seeks elevation at their hands; or are they required, by ; fiftvlingand sub sidized press, blindly to intrust their des tinies into the handsofail individual whose deeds they arc denied the right to scruti nize? A virtuous man fears no scrutiny into his conduct—he invites investigation—re quires no endorsers, however strict 'die ordeal may be—requires n<> partisan press to sustain him, or to do “the bidding ol the master’s band.” If, on the other hand, “all is not right in Denmark”—if ins Mi* has been passed in vicious and immoral tic's, in violation of the laws of God and man—if the fabric be not pure and un stained, and cannot sustain itself—she flood-gates of abuse and recrimination are opened, and lavished tbiih with a relent less hand; certificates are “ manufactured to order,” to delude the people, and* to bolster up a sullied reputation; and even ministers of the gospel lorsakc their sacred calling, and are persuaded to venture in to the political arena, and by their en dorsement to prop the character of a man whose life (and we speak knowingly) has been one continued scene of vice and im morality from his earliest manhood to a decayed old age. How w;ts the moral and n ligious world a lounded when the certificate of the Rev. I)r. 11. B. Bascotn, which so recently ap peared, was heralded Ibrih by a licenti ous press, ea having the character of thud man whose name li as been a by-word among his own brethren for years past, carrying along with it, not the faintest ev idence of morality and virtue, but, on the other hand, associated hv them with all the prevailing vices which characterize the world! v and tit?: vicious man. We would fir his sake—we would for the sake of that churi li of which he is a bright ami shining ornament —we would, as his brother, Ibr thesttlcc of that religion which he professes, and f>rllie sake ol that reputation which lie has hitherto sus -1 aided us a candid and conscientious man —cover this last act with an impenetrable v» ii, and hide it in oblivion, never thence to 1m; brought forth and reckoned again.-t him. But there is a duly, an imperative one, which we owe to ourselves, to our children, lo*our church, our religion, ami our country, which no personal consulta nt ion must shake, and from the di charge of which we must neither fuller nor depart, even when the name of the T’ev. 11. li. iiascnm is opposed to us. Uis liesli in the minds and remembrance of the whole country, that a letter was addressed by Dr. J. (I. Goble to the Rev. 11. 1). iias enm, with the inquiry, “ whether t!.e charges preferred against the lion. Hen ry Clay, of being a sabbath breaker, a profane swearer and gambler, were cor rect or not.” Now mark the reply of the Rev. Mr. Bascotn to the charges: “I have been in intimate and co.i/ident'ud inter coarse with the Hon. Henry Clay, in jai cate r md yub/ic life for more than tieenty years . and know the charges enumerated in your letter against the private character of Mr. Clay to be nltaly anil bu rly fdsc. Rlr. Clay does not belong to the church, hut in view of the ordinary accredited principles ol good moral character, no cluirge can be brought against him without violating the obligations of truth and sound justice ; ami to each and erera charge in your letter, I return for an answer, dial l regard them, one and all , shamefully unjust, because not trve , cither in whole, or in port." The reverend (lector sweeps the platter —goes the whole figure, without excep tion or reservation ; and, in this w holesale denial, can arrogate to himself the credit, at least, of going further and stronger in denying these charges, than any man ol any size, sort, description, or cloth, has ever ventured to go. He strikes the cur rent, and leaves himself no chance of swimming to land, hut a fair one of sink ing before Ire gets even in sight. This wonderful certificate covers the ground of Mr. Clay’s morality “ in whole,’’ and not “ in part,” for twenty years and more; and to that period, so embraced,; we. shall respond, and take the doctor's “intercourse, so intimate and confidential, otiblic and private,” and no more. Every reader of the paragraph refer ring to the doctor’s public intercourse with Mr. Clav, would very naturally infer that he had held, for “twenty years and more,” some public station under the go vernment, and, consequently, was placed in a situation to know that these charges were utterly 'and basclv false. But the public will be as naturally very much sur prised to learn that the reverend gentle man’s public life is comprised not “ in twenty long years and more, 4 ’ but in the •nortnous short space often short months ! in the capacity of chaplain of the low er House of Congress. Os the reverend doctor, Mr. Clay has ever been- a qwu patron, and was his sup jrorter tivthat office; and if the report of that day be true, backed his claims to that office with the somewhat novel hut singu lar reconim« ndation, “ that he could pro duce a preacher who could preach them all to hell and hack again.” That argu ment was irresistible to members—the r*-v«-f'-!; l doctor was bar ked against Ka iin; Mr. Clay endorsed for him then ; the /# was efi cit'd ; and he, not forgetful •/' j/m* Uvors, an 1 cherishing a very coni* , A , I,o w back Mr.Glay, l* Is ii to die full extent, *-'jt trtt-f *' To*.- d's !<>r pieaeli* - - iir- 4 f* i 4i( wli»iter Ik* quite came up to the letter, or tilled the ;measure ol die recommend.ition, we re gret to say history does not now aflord to us llie slightest record. When the doctor counts again, he will, doubtless, discover that ten months are not “twenty years land more.” Take the doctor’s statement as true to the letter—grant that he was “in inti mate ami confidential public inteicourse” with Mr. Clay for “ twenty years ami more,” and then ask him how* lie Lane that Mr. Cl.iv neither “desecrated the Sabbath, profanely swore, nor gambled” in that lime? Washout Mr. Clay’s el bow all the lime? When he was preach ing in the halls of Congress, docs he know that Mr.Clay was not desecrating tin holy day elsewhere ? Was he hv the side ol Mr. Clay day and night, so us to La r: that he neither swore nor gambled. All men would suppose that a minister oi tliegos oel would be the last mail “invited to such an entertainment,” to witness the gaming on which Mr. Clay slaked his thousands, av, even during the doctor’s brief tenure of public station. And yei the doctor knows that Mr. Clay did not gamble, or swear, m‘ break the Sabbath. But tiie scene is shifted. The Ultimate and confidential public intercourse oi “twenty years anil more,” closes in ten months; lint ihe “private one” is still maintained with so much fidelity that the reverend doctor is enabled to “know,” .and does know, and affirms that he does positively and unequivocally “know” that Mr. Clay never swore, nor gambled, nor broke the Sabbath, from tin 1 beginning of 1 1 io “twenty years or tiuue,” up to the “Dili day of July, IMI, the date of his certificate. Now, unless the countiy is willing to admit that the reverend gentle- man is endowed with übiquity, that, by some supernatural agency, he is enabled in “know” what Mr. Clay is doing in Washington City at all hours ol the da\ and night, on the Hays ol the week, and on the Sabbath, when the, reverend gen tleman is some hundreds ol unit’s distant, they certainly do not lor foil their claims to common charily, when they question very much whether the doctor docs “ know” with as much certainly as he professes to affirm in his certificate* or en dorsement, and justification id Mi . Clay’s claims to that morality with which he is so ready to invest him. lint to proceed with tiie doclor’s ow ii history alter the close of in “public life and intercourse.’ Ills tenure of office abruptly ceases, and he becomes an itinerant preacher, travel ling through the length and breadth oi the land, and never having an opportunity ol preaching to Mr. (.'lav, or touching at any point where he passed his lime more than once in several years, until lie settled down, and became connected with the college at Augusta, a town distant about 000 miles from Washington city, where Mr. Clav -pent the greater portion ol his time, and aitoul 100 miles from Lexing ton, the place ol Mr. Clay’s residence. Under this state of liicts, wo respectful ly propound the question to the doctor, :lmw lie could keep up an intercourse so ii.ti>afc and eoiji dmtiaf, at these respec tive di lances, as to “know,” and to as sert to the world that he does “know,” dial these charges are “basely and utter ly lalse” “ in w hole and in pail,” and iconsequently, to follow out the doctor’s most decorous and Christian vocabulary, that he who asserts the contrary “lies tno t liuillv in his throat,” Wc tell the doctor, were he to state personally to Mr. U 'lay’s associates in Washington city ot in Lexington the contents ol his certilicalo, and appear to do it in sober seriousness, they would either regard it as a pleasant joke of his v or an attempt to impose on tlicit credulity. The reverend doctor has about an equal chance ol “ knowing” ’whether these charges arc true or false, as the I’opc of Rome has of personally know ing the moral ly of the Russian Czar. — But to render certain the Rev. Dr.’s means of “knowing” that Mr. Clay is a line bed specimen <-i morality—that vir tue claims him as her favorite and espe cial ad vocate and [inttcrn —lie is heralded Uiulh as the renowned president ol Tran sylvania University, and thereby an at tempt is made to delude the people with the idea t!«u lie lias occupied licit station for a considerable length ol time. Such is not the fat t. lie has been a resident of Lexir.f ton scarce two years, out of “ the twenty years and more” through till ol which this “ intimate and confidential in- tcrcou’rse” has been maintained in all its puilty, uninterrupted and tmbiokeu, dis tance and separation to the contrary not withstanding. And has not the liev. Dr.’s fiith in Mr. Clay, as the embodiment of all virtue been shaken at any time du ring the lapse of this “ twenty’ yars and more,” or arc his ideas of morality isola ted, and peculiar only to himself ? Does lie not “ know” that scarce three months ago (Icnerul McCalla, of Lexington, an elder of the Presbyterian church of that city, a mail w ithout spot or blemish, (who has been hunted down by Mr. Clay him self—a v, even by all the ours which so throng ids kennel there, and tor what.' 1 ecause lie dared to lift the curtain whii h concealed the defi>rni iv, and to publish to the world one of those very charges which, in the face of nvoi whelming evi dence, and not denied, this reverend doc tor now pronounces 44 utterly and basely false,”) published in a paper there “that this verv same Mr. Clay, oil the 4th day ol July, 1840, at a public barbecue two miles from Lexington, gambled high, and won, from the very friend w hom he conveyed to the giound in his own carriage, a con siderable sum of money,” and proffered to prove the charge if denied by the gentle men who played at the table, and by a host ol ids political friends and neighbors. Was the charge denied ? Did any of the ti limits ol the kennel, or Mr. Clay liiiustlf, inter the fit i files l shadow of deni al? Did either of Mr. Clay’s certificate makers ol the recent occurrence at Ihe • Hue Lu k Springs, (w ho, bv-ih’-bv, were both present, u« wean informed, al hat when this game at the barbecue was play ed, when th** friend s [Mickets were relic veil »»f i licit “small change,”) then, it two-: licited an ! unasked, step forward and cer tify dial Mr. Clay did no “ gambling” then and there'/ ; Silence, profound silence, was the watchword passed from the chief to his satellites, and silence it was. They were afraid to deny the charge which Gen. Mc- Calla made and could prove by fifty un willing witnesses of his own parly. And has the reverend gentleman slept over all this? He “knows” the charge was made, that proof was offered, but none was challenged ; and yet he “knows” that Mr. Clay does not ‘ gamble,’ and pro claims die charge to tiie world as “basely and utterly false,” under the sacred sanc tion of the written word of a minister ot the gospel. Once more. Let the reverend gentle man go to Ashland, and ask the man whom he so boldly and recklessly endor ses whether the beautiful picture ol the “ Welshwoman,” which decorates the wall of its dining-hall, was not won at the gaming-table ! Let him descend horn his throne of Transylvania, and ask this same “ eailxMlimeiil” ot till the attributes ol vir tue and morality, whether the still more beautiful picture of the “ Bouquet ol Flow ers,” which meets the eye as you enter the drawing-room ot that stately mansion, was not staked against with money and won .0 the same place ol vice and depra vity ! Let him not leave that mansion until he make the still more portentous inquiry of tins sage of Ashland’s shady groves, (who once backed him against Satan, and whom he now hacks as the purest and the best,) whether iie did not propose, at the same place of iniquity, to put up a high stake against the picture ot the \ iugin Maky, and to play at cards for the picture ol Tin: Mother of oca Saviour ! Ask him again, most reverend doctor, whether the proposition was not made to the Hon. A. (!., of New York, and what was the reply —whether it was not that “ the picture of die Mother of oca llei>eemku was not obtained by gambling, and that he could not gamble it off.” Let these questions Ik: asked and an swered in honesty and truth, and il deni ed, let the proof lie called for, and then, sir, you may he placed in a situation to “ know” whether the charge of “gambling is utterly and basely false,” or whether it stands written in imperishable characters against die man whom you attempt to sustain and endorse, “ the public and pri vate, intimate and confidential intercourse of 2‘) years and more,” with a hlilion il proof of yom’certificate to the contrary notwithstanding. Was this intimate and confidential intercourse still kept up by you, doctor, when Clay left his home to ii ivel to Louisville to the races ? Ay. even on the race fit.ld ilscll, and to the locked rooms ol tlie hotel where these “ moral sjxmls” were finished Ibr the day, and do you “ know” that Mr. Clay did not l»et bigli on tlie race field, and gamble high at the hotel? Were you so “ inti mate and confidential’’ with your honora ble friend when be was travelling up and down the river on steamboats, and you at home, by your own fireside, as to know that he did not descend from that pinnacle ol morality on which your ready band has placed him, and kill the lime which hung heavily on his hands by a resort to the gentle and very “moral” amusement of the oaming table; ay, and even forget that Sunday night had passed away, ami i the Sabbath bad dawned on “two bullets and a bragger,” or the “ four honors in his own hand.” This last is technical lan guage, doctor; but your “intimate and confidential intercourse” and association with Mr. Clay for the long period ol “twen ty years and more,” may, by this time, have taught you to understand its legiti male meaning. And still, doctor, your honorable friend and patron is the veriest pink of morality, according lo‘its most accredited principles,” as taught by our church and our religion.' And you “ know,” too, doctor, that Mr. Clay is no “ Sabbath breaker,” and that charge, 100, is “ utterly false.” Does your church and religion teach,or authorize you “to certify,” that the man who travels to the races at Louisville on the Sabbath day does not profane the holy purposes lor which it was set apart? Does the Bible, or the sanctity of your hallowed office as a minister and teacher of its precept s, instruct you to declare that man free from the charge of desecration of that holy day, who, surrounded by pomp and pageantry and all the circum stances of a festive occasion, addresses a crowd on political subjects,amid the shouts and buzz.is ol an assembled and Sabbat li bre akin** multitude? And yet, doctor, you know* that Mr. Clay is “ no Sabbath breaker,” and is moral to the full extent ol its “ accredited principles,” and all this is virtuous, moral, and lawful, and you owe it to 44 truth and justice and the claims of society” so todeclare and certify it. And yon, too, “know,” doctor, that Mr. Clay is 44 no profane swearer.” Have you nev er heard it whispered that this same Mr. IL my Clay so far forgot the dignity of his station as a grave senator and the sage of Ashland, and that morality according to its roost “accredited principles,” ol w hich you, doctor, certify he possesses so overflowing and abounding a quantity, as to say on the floor of Congress to Gov. Polk, 44 Go home, God damn you, where you belong?” The charge has been made by members of Congress who heard the expression of his infuriate passion; and neither Mr. Clay nor any of his partisan presses have ever had the hardihood to deny tin* charge. And yet you, Doctor, endorse him and certify that he is no pro fiuMt swearer, and that you " know” the liu t, and owe it to “ truth and justice toj guy so,” and that be who asserts the fact affirms that which is “ utt< rly and basely fill*?.” This rovers the ground of the llev. doc* toi’.r e< rtifh ale, wliK’h has been so much extolled and glorified, that a credulous people would lie very apt to suppose that, on its “accredited principles,” tin: account was fully settled beyond all cavilling ami controversy, and that Mr. Clay, no longer amenable to the bar of public opinion, hail received at the Rev. doctor’s bands a re ceipt in full. A few words addressed to you, doctor, in the relations, and with all the kindness, as rncmliers of the same Christian church, and we have discharged a duty as unpal atable to us as it is extraordinary ami un authorized in you, as a minister of the church to which we belong, to give cur rency, and the sanction of that church, by your name and authority, to a certificate of “accredited” morality to the duelist, the profane swearer, the Sabbath breaker, and the gambler. We know, from belter testimony than yours can possibly lie, who never had an oppoitunity of “ kinwing;” j we know, from the general character in these particulars, and others which we could enumerate, that your honorable and “ moral” friend is guilt}*, has been often guilt}*, of the charges which you denounce as utterly and basely false, in whole and in part, “ in your startling” certificate, au thorized by you to be proclaimed and pub lished to the whole as containing “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” We “know” that the man whom you have “accredited with swell pure and unblemished morality, drafted the unhallowed challenge which hurried into eternity, scarce six years ago, a de luded victim to the bloody “codeof hon or.” We “know” that the man whom ( you herald to the world as one of inflexible, and “accredited virtue,” has twice stood forth on the field of blood to uphold that “code of honor” which defies the laws of God and man, shooting, in cold blood, at one antagonist, and desperately wounding the other, and even now* as reckless and unrepentant, at the advanced age of near threescore yeats and ten, standing on the brink of eternity, and proclaiming to the world most emphatically, and in dating and defying language to his God, “that he cannot foresee what contingency may u- rise, and tnat lie cannot reconcile it to his sense .of props irfy, to make a declaration one way or the other 4 ’ that lie will “do no murder,” and consign a fellow creature, with all his sins on his head, unprepared and unanealed, to meet the frowns of an angry God. And this is the man, our er ring brother, but our brother still, whom you can reconcile it to your sense of “ pro priety,” as a man professing the principle, of our holy religion, a teacher of its hallow*, t and and sacred precepts, to endorse nird certify as a man of pure and “ accredited” morality and virtue. One word for ourselves, and we have done. We are members of the same po litical party, which is termed the whig par ty, believing its principles right and cor rect ; and w hile w*e participate in the sen tence expressed at a public meetingin New Jersey bv our conscientious candidate for the vice presidency, the Hon. Theodore Frelinghuysen, “ that all the participators in the act which cost the life of Gilley (Mr. Clay included) were murderers,” we would cheers ully and gladly unite our suf frages on him,while wc owe il to ourselves, our country, and our children, never to uphold or sustain by our suffrages “the Sabbath-breaker, the profane swearer, the gambler, or the man of blood.” TWENTY-EIGHT METHODISTS. Tiif. Return. —To return after long years of painful absence to some place wfiich has been the scene of our former joys, and whence the force of circumstance, and not of choice, has driven us, is oppressive to the heart. There is a mixed sense of regret and rejoicing, which struggle for predomin ance ; we rejoice that our term of exile has expired, hut we regret the years wfiich that exile has deducted from the brief amount of human life, never to be recalled,and there fore as so much lost to us. We think of the wrong or the caprice of which we have been the victims, and thoughts will stray across the most confiding heart, if friends shall meet as fondly as they parted; or if time, while impressing deeper marks upon the outward form, may have obliterated some impressions icithin. Whohas return ed, after years’of absence, however assured of the unflinching fidelity of love he left be hind, without saying to himself, in the par donable yearning of affection, ‘Shall I meet smiles as bright as those that used to wel come me 7 Shall I be pressed as fondly within the arms, whose encornpassmcnt were to me the pale of all earthly enjoy ment V Fearful Odds. —Corvisnr, a French physician of some celebrity during the lat ter portion of the last century, was once la menting, in company, the premature death of Dr. Packer. 4 lt was not at all events from want of medical aid that he died,’said ho ; ‘ for, in the last days of his illness, wc, Halle, Portal, and myself, did not quit him for an instant.’ ‘Alas !’ interrupted the Ab be SI eyes, 4 What could he do against three of you V How to Get a Feather Bed. —‘ln carrying off even the small thing of a feath er bed, Jack Tate, the bowld burglar, showed the skill of a high practitioner, for he desceudherod the stairs backwards.’— ‘ Backwards !’ said Larry Hogan, ‘ what’s that for V ‘You’ll see by ana bye,’ said Gnoggins; ‘he desceudherod backwards, when suddenly lie heard a door opening, and a fay male voice exclaiming, ‘ Where are you going with that lied T ‘l’mgoing up stairs with it ma’am,’ said Jack, whose backward position favored his lie : and lie began to walk up again. ‘ Come down,’ said the lady ‘ we want no beds here, man.’ ‘ Mr. Sullivan, ma'am, sent me home with it himself,’ said Jack, still mounting the stairs. ‘Come down, I tell you,’said the lady, in a great »age, ‘ tliere’s no Mr. Sulli van lives here.’ ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am,' said Jack, turning round, and marching oil with the be I, fair and aisy.— Well, there was a regular slid 100 in the house when the thing was (mind out, and enrt roiies wouldn't Imwld the lady fur the rage sno was in at being diddled. Cooke at Live-pool.— Cooke had l»een |»ia\ mg on a previous occasion, when great excitement prevailed on account of the agi tation of the slave-trade abolition question in Parliament. Cooke fancied himself insult ed because his benefit had not been equal to his expectations ; and jiassing in his usual state by one of the principal coffee-houses, he beheld several of the merchants assem bled in the room and vicinity. Shaking his fist at them, he exclaimed : “ I thank my God I carry away none of your d—d mon ey ; every brick in your accursed town is stained with African blood.” When he ap peared afterwards on the stage, the hubbub was indescribable. He attempted to speak, but was saluted by cries of “ Off, off !” and a shower of hisses. Silence was at length restored, and Cooke addressed the andience in these words : “ Ladies and Gentlemen : If yo*i will allow mefo go through my part, I will never disgrace myself by appearing before you again.” He then retreated to the side scenes, and said to a party there, from whom this anecdote is derived, with a satirical expression of countenance: “ Il’s the blood —the blood.” The managers ad vertised him for the next night, with the same card—Richard the Third and Sir Ar chy Mac Sarcasm. The signal of his pres ence was one universal hiss. Cooke ad vanced to the stage, placing his hand on his breast with affected humility, waited until the tumult sulisided, and then entreated the audience to hear him. “ Had I not been unfortunately interrupted, ladies and gentlemen,” said he, m bin blandest accents, “ my address to you would have been thus: Ladies and gentlemen, if you will allow me to go through my part, I will never disgrace myself by appearing be to re you in the same 1 condition.” The ruse succeeded. “Bravo, Cooke!” resounded, and he played Richard with more than his usual energy. From Tail 8 Mngsi'zine. THE BON GAULTIER PAPERS. FU.XEUJL OF CAMPBELL. Young Scotland. — Pass the wine, O’- Malley. lias any body seen Coventry Patmore’s Poems. Bov Gaultieu. —l have dipped into them. They are obviously of the right kind. He has a fine eye for nature, and tiie poet’s it*; ling that interfuses it With the still s;iil music ofhuiivniity. Young Scotland. — 1 am glad that a new race of poets is springing up. Bar ring Tennyson, we have nothing vet of great mark and likelihood. Bat there is promise and hope; and need there is; Ibr the ranks of the old singers are dwindled sorely. Since we last met here, another has gone to his rest. Bon Gaultieu. — Poor Campbell! his voice was all hut bushed, and, for the worth of what little it did utter, il might' have been eulirtly silent, for many years. 1 was present <*it his funeral, Charles. Ycuxe Scotland. —You were? lam not given to break the tenth command men!; but 1 enw you. The burial of a poet in Poet’s eonier is no common sight. Bon Gaultier—l wish you hail been there Charles. The sight was one to have fired your heart. Mv presence was purely accidental. 1 happened to be down at Westminster. The passing bell of St. Margaret’s was tolling} bn* as Idout re member having ever [Ktsseif thin wav, without hearing its mournful note, I should have taken no notice of it, but lor the un usual crowd moving towards the Abbey. On enquiry, I found what was going for ward. As you may believe, I lost no itime in joining the crowd. I lound the Abbey filled wit!) spectators of all; ranks. There, in that silent crowd, stood the high est t stimuli}* to the poets genius. Some there were attracted thither, no doubt merely because a sight was to be seen. But it was a higher sentiment that fillet I that hallowed ground; a reverent homage to him whose words had passed*into their (hearts, and become not the least noble portion ot their being. Who would not be ambitions of such fame ? Young Scotland.—l see but few Scots men mentioned as having attended the fu- I neral. Bon Gaultier..— Ay, Chailes, there were but few* mentioned in the newspa per lists; but amid the nameless throng, stood with beautiful heart, sonsaiul daugh ters of the old land not a few. What most touched me, was to see around me many an artisan l , in whose features it' was easy to read the wellknown lineaments of Scotland, who had snatched a hurried hour to be present where honour was done to* the poet of his country. Thither has he come in his working jacket, rough and rug ged, but his heart full of pride for the land that bore him, and Ibr the son that had spoken worthily of it. Fair faces were there loo —the light of humble homes— young wives,-with their infants in their j arms, to whom they should tell m after ! years, so had he sung, anti for such deserts tad lie been laid, with honors, in the ho liest ground within all this-wide- Britain. Young Scotland. —Would 1 lind been there! Bcn Gaultier. —Milman, himself no mean poet, read tlie service; that service which may at sometime be listened to without emotion; but in such a place, and in such circumstances, how solemn ! As lie read, the day, which had been lower ing, grew darker and darker, and when the requiem mourned along the echoing roof, and the coffin was lowered into the earth, a solemn shadow thickened over the spot, which was made more sad and solemn, by a wan and sickly beam that struggled in from a side window. Then as the mimic thunder of the organ rolled away, by one of those strange coinciden ces which aie observed in nature, a low peal of thunder murmured along the hea vens without carrying the thought far, far away from this dim spot of earth to tlic great unfulhumcd world beyond. Young Scotland.— Nature is ever the giealest poet. What are the best of ns but its poor interpreters? Hut, Beil, •.ure ly you caught an inspiration from the scene Bon Gaultier. —As l stood there, lean ing against Dryden’s tomb, some feelings [Kissed across my heart, wliit li gathered ihcmsclvcs into the form of'words, Such as they are you siisll have them. HIE INTERMENT OF TIIOM VS C \\n. BELL. ’-a.mf L msny “ brokeD wi ‘. h «* «ir of Hark! Si. Margaret’s bellktiding, but it U n„ common clay, n ° T £^ ,draeW anthem,si,all be laid in In yon Minster’s hallowed corner, w |, e re il,. barcis and sages resr, Ult Is a silent chamber waiting to receive another guest, ,utr There is sadness in the heavens, and a veil - gainst the sun; 11 a " \\ ho shall mourn so well as Nature wU„ „ poets coursb >s run? a ,A f>'ire of | a " djoi " lllf * , * ers > mtck of heart and For Ae shadows of the mighty dead are hover ing o’er us now, Souls that kept their trust immortal, dwelling from the herd apart, ° Souls that wrote their noble being deep j nlo a nation’s heart, Names that,on great England’s forehead -im Ihe jewels of her pride. Brother Scol, lie proud, a brother soon shall slum ber by their sale 1 Ay, thy cheeks a re flushing redly, tears are crow ding lo thine eves, AnA iliy heart like mine, is rushing hack where Scoliand’s mountains rise; Thou, like me, hast seen another grave would suit our jsiei well, Greenly braided by the bracken, in a lonely Hji.|, land dell, Looking on the solemn waters of a mighty inland sea, In the shadow of a mountain, where Ihe lonely eagles tie; Thou hast seen the kindly heather bloom around tbs simple- I tell, Heard ihe loch and torrent mingle dirges fir the [met dead; Brother, thou hast seen him lying, as it is ihy hope to lie, Looking from the soil of Scotland, up into aSeoi tish sky! Il may hi*, such grave were U-tler—belter, rail* and dew should tail, Tears of hopeful love lo freshen Nature’s ever verdant palfi Beller that the ftnn should kindle on his grave in golilewsimlesy Butler lban, in palsied’glimmer, stray alum* these sculptured aisles; Belli i after time should lind him, —to his rest in homage t>ottt*d,— Lying in ihe land that ho re him, with Its g'ories piled around ! Such, at least, must be the limey that in such a time must start,—- For we love our country dearly—in each burn ing Sonliisli heart; \ el a rest so greal, so noble, as awaits the min strel here, -Moiig the best ot England’s children, can he Hi unworthy bier, Hark! a tush of lee 1! They bear him, —him, llte :*iMger, to his tomb; omler what of him is mortal lies Loncalh you sa ble phone, Tears along mine eyes are rushing, but ihe prou dest tents they l*e, Thai on manly e_.es may gather,—tears, 'mere never shame lo see; Tetus that water lofty piirjiose; tears of welcome to the fame, Os the hard that hath ennobled Scotland’s dear and noble name, Sad er, sadder, let ihe anthem yearn aloft ii» wailing strain, Not liir him, for lie is hnppv, but fur us and all our pain! Louder, louder, let the organ like a seraph aulhem roll, Ilyinningio its home of glory our departed bn*. I her a soul! He lias laid hi in down to slumber, to awake hr Holder trust. Give his frame lo kindred ashes, earth to earth, and dust lo dost ! Louder yet, and ycl more lowdlv let the organ’s thornier rise ! Hark ! a louder thunder answers; deepening a wards to the'skies, — lle avoirs ma jestic diapason, pealing on linnr east to'west, Never grainier music anthem’d' poet lo'liis home of rest! Young Scotland.—l sec and feel il nil about me,—the Abbey, the crowd, the one narrow grave,-all thditiftmit lie litre a ma jestic vision of tile highlands, anil a little knoll kept ever green’by a bright-eyed mountain stream. Bon, I thank you for this stirring of my hear;. You have struck the true note; a paean of iiiumph, and no weak wailing fi r death, and the conquest of this I rail house of clay by the inevitable Of all poor things, a maudlin mon ody for ‘ripe fruit seasonably gathered’ is the poorest. Bcn Gaultier. —And most especially out of place lbr one who leaves suc h re cords ofhis genius behind him. Weep for crushed hearts and baffled endeavours- Weep for young livej blighted, weep for the ‘breaking heart's that will not break, hut ask not one tear of lamentation for the poet that passes licncc in the fulness ol lus years ami his renown. Ik he dead, whose glorious mind, Lifts-thine'on high? To live in hearts ive leave behind, Is not to die. KWi'LOYErb-— I They that are in power slioirltl be extremely cautious to commit the execution of their plans not only to those who are able, but to those who are willing. As servants and instruments, it is the duty of the latter todo their best; but the employ ees are never so sure of them as when their duty is also their pleasure. To commit the execution of a purpose to one who disap proves of the plan of it, is to employ 1 one-third of the man ; his heart anil hi* head are against you—you have comma ded only Las hands. Duffi eld’s Hams. —A late Liw r J. ,- Albion contains the following notice o field’s Cincinnati hams : “Miami Hams.- Whatever various opin ions travellers may have expressed o ica, in relation to its manners, cus " y political institutions, all have ng 1 i highly commending tho numeroii k things which it produces ior the g * . tion of the pdate iitnl nourisbmen . hotly. Amongst the many hixii"'- they have recently transmitted to _ ta bl«s is none that will prove more < | j^i, than their far-fained Miami ham-, or possess a delicacy and pertecttoi e that would provoke even the g> - f oltc "ans of Musslemen or Brahmins, * them to love the animal they u ,i lo cati tanglrt to aldior. The cpioui'- read the advertisement ot this u> -' arn i n g out experiencing an affection*'' y nim j e towards the savory novelty nl ‘ 0 f gas of sterner stufftnan the usual V. | o „ s et' iroliomic devotees. (>» 1, ""’ l . “'Jlrt -I the finest breed, fed in thogr art d on the Miami, in Western An*"' > a wild herbage, clover, hickory . India« corns, and afterwards fattened »<it corn ot that fertile region.