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THE REPUBLIC, IS PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, OVER J. D. WINN’S BRICK STORE COTTON AVENUE, MACON, GA. AT $3,00 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE. RATES OF ADVERTISING, Bcc. One square, of 100 word*, or less, in small type i 75 cents lor the first insertion, and 50 cents for each subsequent insertion. All advertisements containing more than 100 and j ass than 200 words, will be charged as two squares. . To yearly advertisers, a liberal deduction will be j made. Sales of Land, by AdmiAtrators, Executors, or Guardians, are required by law to lie held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten in the forenoon, and three in the afternoon, at the Court House in the county in which the pro perty is situated. Notice of these must be given in a public gazette, sixty day* previous to the day of sale. Notice to debtors ami creditors of an estate luust lie published forty days. Notice iliat application will be made to iheCoun of Ordinary lor leave to sell land, must be publish ed four montht. bales of Neoroes must be made at public auc tion, on the first Tuesday of the month, between the legal hours of sale, at the place of public sales, in the county where the letters testamentary, ol administration of guardianship, shall have been granted, sixty days notice being previously given in one of the public gazettes of this Suite j and at the door of the Court House where such sales are to be held. Notice for leave to sell Negroes must be pub lished for four months before any order absolute shall be made thereon by the Court. All business of this nature will receive prompt attention at the office of THE REPUBLIC. UUSINESS CAKDA. JOB PRINTING aziacs'siJisa) am srama oph'ass, With Neatness and Dispatch. FLOYD HOUSE. ®JT S<e #e IFSW'fIFCW'»» Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,1811. l-’l xzmsp* &&&§?&&, fashionable Dress Mating Establishment. Plumb Street, next to the Seminary. Orders tor Dresses, Riding Habits, &.c. &c. executed in the latest and most fashionable style, and at the shortest notice. 20 ts S.t ffe Ji arc-llousc and Commission Merchant, EAST MACON. Has on It an and a targe and new stock of STAPLE DRY GOODS, Hats, Shoes, Hardware, Crockery, Bagging, Twine and Groceries, which he will sell at the lowest market prices. Liberal Advances made on Colton. April 9, 1845. 25—ts DROWN X BIHMKI.EY, 4kE Zt# w- Office in Dr. Thomson’s building, opposite Floyd House, Macon, Georgia. La w N oticc. A. I*. POWERS & 1,. N. WHITTLE, Have associated themselves in the practice of the Law, and will give prompt attention to such bu siness as may be intrusted to their care. —They will attend the following courts: Bit 6, Craxcford, . Monroe, Ihciggs, Jones, Wilkin son, Houston, Pulurki, Henry, and Pike. Office over E. B. Weed’s store, second door frmu Wm. B. Johnston. Msc»n, March 12, 1815. 22 3m NtSBF.T & WINGFIELD, ATTORNEYS AT I.AW. Office on .Mulberry Street, over Kimberly's Hat Store. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. I—ts WHITING & MIX, WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALERS I" ROOTS AND SIIOLS, Near the Washington Hall, Second street. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. 1-tt J. L. JONES & CO. CLOTHING STOKE. West side Mulberry Street , next door below the Bis Hat - Macon, Georgia. Oci. IS), 1844. * -11 DOCTORS J. M. Ae 11. K. Corner of Mulberry and 1 Ilird Streets. Macon, Georgia. Ocl. 19, 1844. 1-ti FREEMAN A ROBERTS, Saddle, liar nest, and IV hip, 31 Alll'F ACTOBY. Dealers in all kiwis of Leather, Saddlery Harness and Carriage Ttimmings, Oa Cniton Avenue and Second street, MACON, GA. SAMUEL J. KAY & CO. DEALERS IN FANCY AND STAPLE DRY GOODS, Ready Made Clothing, Hats, Shoes, fete. Second street, a few doors l’rora the W ashington Hotel. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 18,1844. 1-if liEDDING & WHITEHEAD, DEALERS IN FANCY AND STAPLE DRY GOODS, Groceries, Hard H'arr, Cutlery, Hats, Shoes, Crockery, fete. fete. Corner of Cotton Avenue and Cherry streets. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. I—it JOSEPH X. SBV.UOI it, DEALER IN DRY GOODS, GROCERIES, HARD WARE, «sec. Brick Store, Cherry Street, Rahton's Range, first door below Russell k Kimberley's. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. 1-tl GEORGE M. LOUAN, DEALER IN FMCY AND STAPLE DRY GOODS, Hard-1 Care, Crockery, Glass- IVare, Bic. fete. Corner of Second" and Cherry streets. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. 1-ts ~ IX Sc W. GUNN, DEALERS IN STAPLE DRY GOODS, Groceries, Hardware, Crockery, fete. Macon, Georgia. Ocl. 19, 1844. 1-ts * J. M. BOA ROM AN, DEALER IN LAW, MEDICAL, MISCELLANEOUS »»d School Bocks; Blank Books and Stationery of all kinds; Printing Paper, fete. fete. Sign of the Large Bible, two doors above Shot weU’s corner, west side of Mulben-y Street. Macon, Georgi a. Oct. 19,1844. 1-ts B. R. WARNER, AUCTION AND COJLTIISgION MER CHANT. Dealer in every inscription of Merchandise. •The Public’s Servant,” and eubjcct to receiving oonetgnmeuts at all times, by the consignees pav ing S per cent, commissions for eervirss rtoriered Macon, Georgia. 00t.J9.184i. i if TUBE ■ iUEIPUT PUBLISHED BY ] VOLUME 1. MISCELLANY. THE LAST DAYS OF CATHERINE OF MEDICIS. 1 The life of Catherine tie Medicis, wid ow of Henry 11. of France, and mother of ; the three ensuing kings, affords one of the darkest, pictures oi human depravity with which history furnishes us. There was no treachery, no cruelty, which this wo | man would not commit for the purpose of promoting her ambitious ends; she corrupt ed her very children in order to make them follow out her wicked policy. It is most j instructive to observe how all die wiles j and bloody deeds ol Catherine redounded j only in misfortunes to her family and her- ! self. Her eldest son, Francis if. (husband of Mary Queen of Scots.) died in youth, in consequence o( the anxiety in which her policy had involved him. The second, Charles IX., having been forced bv her to oVder the celebra'ed Barlholomew’massa cre, sunk under his consequent remorse.— Finally her third son, Henry HI., whom ; site had succeeded in corrupting to a great er degree titan any of the rest, was driven from Paris, along with herself, by the son ol tnat Duke of Guise whose murder she is believed to have instigated. It was in 1553 that this last event look place. Catherine was now seventy years (ts age, broken down with infirmities and disappointment, yet still possessed of all her atrocious dispositions. Site escaped from her newly-erected palace of the Tuil I cries with some difficulty, and took re fuge with her son in the castle of Blois, on the Loire, a magnificent old fortress, which still remains nearly in the same state in which it was at the end of the six teenth century. Neglected by het son and his courtiers, she was left on Iter bed of agony to the attendance of her inferior domestics, without a friend to cheer and comfort her hours of suffering and dis tress. The power of the Duke of Guise had at this lime attained such a height, that the king possessed scarcely the shad ow of authority; his person, his hubils, his affections, were the objects of the blackest ! calumny and abuse; the pteachers, in their sermons, represented him to the people as the worst of tyrants and styled him the offspring of the devil. The states-general were called together to seek a remedy for the disorders of the kingdom: b :t through the influence of their party, they were all selected from the adherents of the league, and every propo sition made by the king was instantly re jected. Even in his personal intercourse, the Duke of Guise took upon him to speak with the authority of a master whose will was to be obeyed without a question; and it Was publicly said that he intended to 1 carry the king to Paris, and to act over ! again the scene of Charles Martel ami [ Chilperie. The Duchess ofMontpensier, 1 the tltike’s sister, constantly carried at her side a pair of golden scissors, which she said were intended to make the tonsure of | brother Henry of Valois; and it was ex -1 peeled that the king would be forced into a convent, sind Henry of Guise proclaim ed king of France. With these reports universally credited, what must have been the torturing reflections of it to such ends 'and purposes that site had waded through the blood of friend and toe? She fell Iter j self powerless, from age ami infirmity, and knew that iter son was equally so ftotn ed ucation and habit; but it seemed site bad too much of his mother’s nature within ; him not to seek for vengeance, cost what it would, and a direful scene was in pre paration to mark the closing hours of Cath | eriue’s eventful life. In this scene, how j ever she had no participation, the king himself being sole instigator of the plot, for bis own deliverance from the bondage : in which he was held, and from the dan j gers which be anticipated. He first con sulted with the Marechal d’Aumont, ami throe other intimate friends, to whom he disclosed his sorrows and his fears, his re solution and his hopes. To attack the, power of the Guises by open force, was agreed to be impossible; but the education which the queen-mother had given to her son made him little scrupulous as to any other means by which he might rid himself of his enemies: the only difficulty was to ' find a hand to strike the blow. At length Henry resolved to apply to Griffon, the colonel of his guards, who bore a personal hatred to the duke, and was sincerely de { voted to the king; but, on application being ! made to him, his answer was such as was i little to be expected from a courtier of his time: “Sire,” he said, “1 am your mnjes i ty’s servant, and am ready to do battle with the Duke of Guise to the death, if such be your will and pleasure; but to act 1 as an assassin or an executioner, is neither the part of a gentleman nor a soldier.”— To Henry’s credit he took the reply in good part, and the brave Griffon lost noth ing of bis favor or affection; his secrecy was I secured, and application made to Lotgnac, first gentleman of the bedchamber, who agreed to undertake the execution of the king’s purpose. These measures took i place on the 21st of December,and the 23d was fixed upon as the day of vengeance. The duke, in the meanwhile trusting to the pusillanimity of the monarch, and con fident in his own strength, acted with in creased arrogance, and having objected to a person whom the latter bad nominated commander of the royal archers, insulting ly said that he should resign his post of lieutenant-general of the k'ngdom, and MACON, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 16, IMS seek some other office. The king under stood the nature of the threat, but conceal ing his anger and his fears, assured his “good cousin” that in two or three days they would arrange the affair between them witltoul any dispute. In the inter val no alarm was taken by the princes of Lorraine, though after the deed was done, it was said that the great Nostradamus, who had been one of Catherine’s favourite soothsayers, had predicted the event in the almanac for the year, and declared that a great murder would be perpetrated at Blois; but this and other vaticinations were treated with ridicule by him who was most deeply interested in their develop ment. On the evening of the 22d, when he sat down to dinner, the duke found up- 1 ou his plate a paper, by which he was warned to be on his guard, as u plot was on the point of execution against him: to this he contented himself by writing be neath the notice, “they dare not,” find threw the paper carelessly under the table. His friends, however, began to feel vague alarms, and a secret council was held to consider if it would not be better lor him to withdraw for a lime from Blois; but Guise felt confident in bis force, and thought that his retreat would compromise his party, and also be a tacit confession of treasonable designs; “I am too far advan ced,” be said, “to draw back, and if I saw death coming in at the window, I would not open the door to escape.” During this time the king pretended to be wrapt in devout preparation for the festival ol Christmas, and declared his intention to make a pilgrimage toN’otre-Danie deCiery j on the 23d, but, on th>* evening of the 22d, announced that he had changed his mind, and should spend the day at Noue, a small j residence on the borders of the forest, sending the Sieur de Merle to request the i Duke ot Guise, bis brother the Cardinal of Lorraine, the Archbishop of Lyons, and others, to attend him in his cabinet at six o’clock in the morning, as he wished to expedite some weighty matters of business without disturbing his devotions duringthe rest of the week. Notwithstanding the havoc made during the revolution with the interior as well as the exterior of tlie casila of Blois, and its subsequent conversion into a military bar rack. the arrangements of the part of the building destined to be the scene of mur der remains at the present day nearly the same as that which it exhibited on the 23d of December 1539; the demolition of some of the carved work, and placing a slight partition across the royal chamber, being all the change which has taken place.— The room has a dark and gloomy charac ter from its vast length, and from the win dows Leing all placed on the north side; at the east end is a spacious chimney, and in the centre of the son h side an alcove, in which was placed the king’s bed; at the west end of the chamber is a door com municating with the apartment used its it council-room in t'te time of Henry ilk; far ther on was a corridor with various small cells, and a stair-case descending to the bed-rootr. of the queen-mother. Loignac, who had (as lias been said) accepted the office so honorably declined by Crillon, had procured the aid of Lar ehant, one of the captains of the royal guard, and by the king’s command wait ed on the Duke of Guise in the evening at the head of some soldiers of his regiment, to request bis support to a petition which they intended to present to the council next day to obtain the arrears of their pay.— At nine o’clock Larchant returned, and received his final orders from his majesty, who retired to the queen’s chamber at midnight, alter giving orders to Du liable, his first valet de cliamhre, to awake him at four o’clock. At the appointed time the valet knocked at the rloor, which was opened by Louis de Piolans. the principal attendant on her majesty, who was desired to announce the hour to the king, upon which Henry arose instantly—not from sleep, for during the whole night he had been restless and un easy. On passing into his own chamber, he found Bellegarde and Du Halde await ing him, and was soon after joined by Loignac, who brought with him several ol the body-guard, to make sure of whom the king himself locked them up in the cells he had fitted up in the adjoining corridor for the reception of the Capuchins who frequently attended his devotions. When the members of the council had arrived, he re-conducted the guards into his cham ber, ordering them to move as quietly as possible, not to disturb tbe queen-mother; and repeated his commands, promising large rewards if they were faithfully exe cuted. He then gave directions to the huissier stationed in the ante-room to ad mit no one except by his own immediate order, and sent the Marechal D’Aumont, tiis confidant, into the council-chamber, to be in readiness to arrest the Cardinal of Lorraine and the Archbishop of Lyons the instant the duke should have fallen; directing at the same lime Bellegarde to summon into his oratory two of his chap lains, Claude de Bullis and Etiene d’Ar guyn, with orders that they should “pray earnestly to God that the king might suc ceed in the undertaking he was about lor repose of the kingdom. *’ These arrange ments, made he awaited the arrival of brothers of Lorraine in a state of agonizing excitement. Instead of his usual apathy and indifference, he now exhibited the most restless and nervous agitation, re peatedly addressing himself to the guards, and charging them to take care of them sehes, for tnc duke, he «a'd, was very PRO PATRIA ET LEGIBCS. strong and powerful. At length the dinal arrived, but the duke was still sent. It was nearly eight o’clock b fore he was in readiness to attend the council, though a messenger had been sent to say that the king was waiting to depart. The morning was dull and gloomy, and a cold and piercing rain was falling in torrents. On arriving at the foot ol the staircase leading to the council chamber, Guise found Larchant at the head of his company with the petition they had requested the duke to present, and asking permission to wail till it was deci ded. This was easily granted; the prince promised his support, und entered the room where the council was assembled; when Larchant immediately placed his men in double rank upon the stairs, and sent his lieutenant with twenty men men to occu py the passage leading to the king’s cham ber. In the meanwhile Crillon, accord ing to the orders he had received, caused all the gates of the castle to be closed.— This spread instantaneous alarm amsngst the partisans of Guise, and Pericard, his secretary, who was in wailing below, en deavored to convey a billet enclosed in a pocket handkerchief to his master, con taining these words—“ Save votsrseif, tnon seigneur, or you are lost.” The page charged with this warning gave it to a huissier of the council; hut it was arrested by the guards, and there was no longer a hope of escape for the destined victim. On entering the council, the duke found till the members assembled, with the ex ception of the Archbishop of Lyons, who arrived almost immediately. Seating him self by the fire, lie complained of cold, was observed to turn very pale, and request ed M. de St. Prix to procure him some sweetmeats. St. Prix offered him some dried prunes of Brignolles, which he ac cepted, and said he felt better. The sec retary then proceeded to lay some papers before the assembly, when the door was opened, and it was announced that his majesty desired to see the duke in his chamber. The latter placed some of the prunes in a gold box. wrapped his cloak round his arm, saluted the members, and passed towards the royal apartment with the box in his hand. On entering, he bowed to the guards stationed near the door, and was advancing towards the up per end of the room, where Henry stood leaning against the side of the chimney: as he proceeded, he suddenly turned half round, thinking he heard someone be hind him. At this ir.stant one of the guards named Momery caught him by the arm and wounded him in the throat with a poniard, whilst another seized hirn round the legs, and a third struck him on the brick of the head. “My friends! my friends! treason!” cried the duke; and with a vio lent blow liont the box in his band felled one of tbe assailants to the ground, and dragged himself and those who clung to him hall the 1 ngth of the chamber, when he received a mortal wound from the hand of Loignac, and it'll beside the king’s bed in the alcove. “My God! mercy!” were his last words. Henry, who had remn ti ed immoveable during the bloody scene, seeing the body motionless on the fl 'or, advanced and ordered Bellegarde to si arch it. A gold chain, to which was attached a small key, was found fastened round one of his arms, and in his pocket a purse with some gold coin, and a billet, on v b elt was written —“To carry on a civil war with France will require seven hundred thou sand ecus per month.” During the search, Bellegarde thought he perceived some movement in the body, and said, "Mon seigneur, whilst you have life, ask pardon of God and the king;” Guise gave a deep and heavy sigh, and expired. The body was then covered with a cloth, drawn into a closet, and two hours after was delivered , into the hands of the public executioner. On the noise caused by the struggle be- I irig heard in the council chamber, the j members rose in great alarm; Marechal ideßetz exclaimed that France was lost, ’ and the cardinal cried out, “They are : murdering my brother,” whilst d’Espinac | rushed to the door to endeavor to aid the : duke; but tbe Marechal d’Aumont, draw- I ing his sword, iiflercepted him, and said I calmly, “Gentlemen, remain where you are, and await his majesty's commands.” The room was then instantly filled with j archers, and the two prelates placed in | custody of an exempt of the guards. Af ter a short interval Loignac, without his cloak and with his head bare, entered and announced the duke’s death, summonin'* the members of the council to the royal presence. They lbund the king much ex cited; and in a tone of menace to which he was little accustomed, he told them “that at length he was king, and would take care that from henceforth his power should be respected.” He then left them, and went to the apartment of his mother, who had heard the noise in the king’s chamber, and the attempts which Pericard and other at tendants of the duke had vainly made to gain admission so her presence, but re mained in total ignorance of what was passing, till Henry himself announced the event which had taken place. And what was the effect of the dreadful tale upon this wretched woman, lying on the bed of death? Was it an additional pang added to the consciousness of many crimes?— Was it compassion for one whom she had at times professed the greatest friend ship and affection? Was it anxiety for the difficulties .n which her son had involved ' himself e.r»d the country. No! Her ob- [ derate b«*art remained an«offcnrd hv am* After a ed that the work that now it was necessary to sew ... er. “C’est bien coupe, mais il faut a pre sent, aclivitcet vigneur, voilace qu'jlvnus faut,’ were her words before she sank ex hausted by pain and weakness on her bed; and again the poinards of the assassins were called into play. The Cardinal of Lorraine, who had been arrested irt the council-chamber, was conveyed into n lower room in a neighboring tower, which communicated with the part of the castle where the recent tragedy had been enact ed, and in the floor ol which there is still a trap-door opening into the ©ulinieltes be neath; but it was not in those dark reces ses of crime and horror that the second victim was to expiate the ambitious pro jects of his party. After a night of anxie ty and alarm spent with his tellow-priso ner, the Archbishop of Lyons, in prayer and watching, he still remained in iguo ran e of his approaching fiite. Those who had been ready and willing to exe cute the royal commands against the duke, recoded from the idea of staining their In ids in the blood of a priest, and a prince < f the chinch; but at length a Captain do Gtiust was found, who at the king’s desire undertook the dangerous office; and at the price of four hundred ecus obtained the aid of three soldiers of his company. At tended by them and by a valet-de-chatn bre of the monarch, he entered the dur. geott where the cardinal was confined,and informed him that the king required his presence. “Are we both to attend his majesty?” asked the captive. “I am charged to summon you only, rnonscig ncur,” replied Du Gaust; and as the un fortunate man left the chamber to follow him, the archbishop, who seemed to have anticipated his fate, desired him “to think on God.” In a lew moments the sounds without the door told him 100 clearly that his anticipations were correct. The car dinal was murdered in the passage out side between the Tour de Moulins and tbe rest of the building, and the spot where he fell is still pointed out those who vis it the castle. The bodies of the two brothers were afterwards burnt to ashes in a chamber utidei the staircase built by Louis XII., und the remains thrown into ll.c Loire, to prevent their being regarded as relics by iheir adherents. Eight days after the second murder, on the sili ol' January, the guilty Cathetine finished her mortal career; anil as her hopes of earthly grandeur had fallen to nothing during tier file, so also the gorge ous memorials she had prepaied in her prosperity to continue her fame became vain and empty monuments. The mag nificent tombs site bud prepared to receive her mortal remains was left void and utt tenanted. Political affairs pressed too rap idly upon her sou to allow him to attend to tits mother’s obsequies, and her body, says a cotemporary historian, was treated wt It as little regard as tliut of “an old goat.” It was indeed ordered to be ein oalined, in order to its transportation to tit. Dennis; hut the operation was so imper ii oily performed, that it became necessa ry to niter it on the spot, und it was thrown .n o the common cemetery with as little r< sped as that of any other malefactor.— A few months saw the principal agents ot ttte murders above recorded receive the reward of their crimes; the minor tools were abandoned by the remployer to pun ishment or neglect; and the hand of a fa natic assassin cut off the lust offspring of the guilty Catherine, and with him the race of Valois, for whose aggrandisement so many direful offences had been perpe trated. It is worthy of remark, that the identical motive which the Duke of Guise i urged lor the murder of the Admiral Col igny, was his own death warrant; he bad vehemently pressed the necessity of that infamous act —“parce quo l’an*tiul fasoit imp le rni” (lbr the admiral made himself too much a king.) TUB GYASCUTUS. As this very formidable animal is un doubtedly “loose,” and ns there is no knowing the amount of mischief he mav occasion while roaming at large and uis tuibing the cogitations of those*quiet peo ple win) know nothing about him—a .state ment of the particulars concerning his origin, and remarkable escape, will, no doubt, be tlianklully received by an anx ious public. The story goes, that a couple of Yan kees traveling south, ran short of funds; and resolved themselves into a committee of ways and means for the puqwse of ef fecting a “ raise.” They determined to take advantage of the passion for shows, which possessed our people irt those days, when the elephant and rhinoceros, and lions and monkeys, were being exhibited all over the country. One of these wor thy couple, it was agreed between them, was to personate a rare beast, for which they invented the name of Gyascutus; while the other was to he keeper or ‘show man’—*to exhibit the said Gyascutus to thecurious spectators,stir him wiibastick, j throw him his food, discourse of his histo ry, capture qualities, &c. Accordingly tbe advertisement was i made at the next village, to the effect that I a rare and interesting specimen of onirm t ed nature, called the Gyascutus, would •hit night he exhibited tothe enligbli net! | and generous public of that town and vi- • v7c\v-c, , excited fancies would have derful similitude to the feet and hands « a live yankee, with sttipes of Coonskitw sewed around his wrists and ankles { With palpitating hearts they taw those big feet move and flap about, as the mon ster shook his chain and muttered bis dis content in unearthly growls. The designated moment for opening the exhibition having arrived, and Jona than having stowed a goodly account of the shining spoil in the big pockets of his pepper-and-salt coat, he stepped deliber ately up to the curtain, fir tiie purpose of commencing the performance. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said he, ‘tb« Gyascutus is not only remarkable for the singularity and ferocity of his appearance, but for tbe terrible tones of his voice. Before raising the curtain, I will proceed to stir him a little with this here stick, just to let you have a specimen % of the music with which lie makes his native wilds resound, when angry, or about to seize anti run off with his unsuspecting prey.’ He accordingly disappeared—the stick was plied upon the Gyascutus-—the beast gave a few premonitroy grunts, but waxing in wrath, he began to rattle his chain like mad, and roar and growl in the most hideous sort, to the unspeakable de lightful horror of all present. Expecta tion, mixed with a portion of apprehen sion, was wrought up to the highest pitch. When just at this juncture, Jonathan leap ed out with a bound—his eyes starting with fear—his limbs trembling in every joint—terror in all bis looks—exclaiming, ‘Ladies and gentlemen —save yourselves! —t!:e Gyascutus is loose ! Pell utell, burly burly, fainting, scream ing, lea ping, crowding, the spectator* rolled out; w hile Jonathan and the Gyas cutus retired the back way,with all reason able expedition, and are now, lbr aught we know, enjoying the rewards of their adventure among the circumjacent hills of the Pasaarnaquoddy. For the Girls to read.— A young gentle man happened to sit at church in a pew adjoining one in which sat a young lady, fer whom he conceived a most sudden and violent passion; and was desirous of en tering into a courtship on the spot. But the place not suiting u formal declaration, the exigency of the case suggested the following dliiii :—He marked the text and handed the Bible to her; 2d Epistle of John, Gth verse : ‘And now, I beseech thee, lady, not us though 1 wrote anew commandment unto thee, but that which we have from the beginning that v, e love one another.’ She returned the book, pointing to Ruth 2: 10—‘Why should 1 find grace in thine eyes, that tin u shnuldesi takq knowledge of me, seeing I am a stranger?’ lie again returned the book, pointing to the third Epistle of John* 13ih verse—‘l Irive many things to write,, h it l will rot wi.h pen and ink, write un o thee. But ! trust 1 shall sluirtly see thee, and then we shall speak face to face.* Tin y were united in marriage soon after. — Lx. Paper. Anecdote of Mr. Blair. —The follow ing anecdote is told of Mr. Blair, editor of tie Washington Globe, who, it is universally acknowledged, is a man of no great per sonal beauty. Mr. Bl.trr once met a savage looking Kentuckian in the Wheeling stage coach, who accosted him thus : ‘lsay, stranger, ! here’9 a very pretty Bowie knife I was ax’d to hand over to you !’ ‘lndeed 1’ s aid Blair, to whom may I be indebted to for this present?’—(lt was a frightful looking knife.) ‘Well now, that would I e hard to tell,’ replied the Kentuckian. ‘ ’ I’was about five years ago, I reckon, when I was gnin’ over this turnpike, and I met a fellow who gave me the kaile, s >it of premium for being the ugliest look ing fellnvv he had melon his journey over this ugly f ad. He exacted a promise, however, that if I ever met an uglier look ing nt tn than myself, I should at once hand it over to him, at all hazards. Since then, I have looked in vain foe five years, and began to think the knife was my own property. I beg Itmvever, you will make no objections to accept a present to which, I am satisfied, you art* justly eniitledj’ Mr. Blait pocketed tli£ knife y tiaturedly, giving tbe.Jye*' nest assurance uglier looking ' sig tis | >y- / A | traor<!) Flight!! that p!<* of tiie ti years a? parish c was disc regular! was rel Welsh.' the mat Fletche sworn. and i' law.