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'bwyrmmmammf asm miiiiiwjar _ tt&ca ai *■ te MY WilE! , A WUISPKB I "Mv wife’’—she is gone out of" town, and 1 seize flic lucky moment to paint her por , trait, and to tell in/ story. They shall not be full-lengths. Wives ! what a word. There is “ the • creaking of shoes and the rustling of silks” ' m the sound ; the rattling of keys, and—pc, not the chink of money ; but there is the slv subtle, single knock of a duu in it, the scold ing of servants, and the squeaking of chil dre.:. Wife !—it sounds like the requiem of libeity, the knell of genius, the sad, sullen adieu to all the rhapsodies and r amblings of youth — the ipse dixit of destiny, pronounc ing sentence of imprisonment for life, upon the unfettered and untaineable spirit. It is a dictionary of itself-—it means every tiling, good and evil. It is the open ccsamc !of mis chief-—the sound of the creaking hinges of Pandora’s !>ox—the riveting of chains—the cabalistic word that is to call spirits from the deep, seraphs or satyrs, as it may happen— the Happing of the sails of the departing ves sel that is leaving us on an island, peopled ptoberlv with hyenas that hate laughing, and boars too sulky to dance. Hut then, on the othet hand, there is a certain sweetness—not a sweetness exactly, but a something or other in the sound, that certainly efot.s—but all this is not what 1 was going to say. Wives in general—for I have a word for those of other people before 1 come to my own—arc as varied as the weather. Thcfe are hot and cold ones- fair and foggy, damp and dry. Your “damp” wife will he barely civil to you when you ask for her husband, and will perhaps say something about “people calling to take him out.” If you o,.en the door suddenly, you will perhaps see her put ting the decanters away. The “dry” wife works by hints ; she will quiz you, if single, 4 upon your dissipated habits, and intimate that el. i considers you the cause of nil her husband’s wickedness before marriage, and some of it since. Hut your “foggy” wife is nJore thsgr?eahle than all—one with whom it is impossible to sec an inch before you, where you don’t know whether you are to go or stay, ivito seems to entertain you vv'tii erftire difl’ci Vnce, or regards you as a part of the living-s: ock upon her husband’s estate, Who neither invites you nor declines your vis its forgets your name twice a week, and if asked who you are, says—“Oh ! it is only a friend of M r, M’s;” who, in short, just en dures you, 1 eeause there was a sort of under standing in t he marriage contract, that tile husband was to have his friends and dogs as felt!-.; as he p! U sed- This is a sad clog to friendship, bu lit is a common one. I have j a dozen friend t whom 1 never think ot ;sit ing for tins rc: eon, because ' know I should be placing mys ill’ in the situation of that per son who apolog ‘ieed to I)r. Johnson for his long stay, and was answered, “No at all, ir f i bad forgo ten you were pres.at.” . When a man makes you stay to dinner jeth-sr you will lor no, you may understand "at he means ; to id when, on the other hand, kicks you dov r ii airs, you may, in general -ttv accurate! 1 ,- * guess what his intentions ' ‘ an ind ifferont or an indefinite sort reception is vvi Kit I never, under any cir uinstances, run. the risk of encountering twice. How provoking Is it, when you have made a c ~,k}ii a friend who is delighted to see on -ad whi th whom have made up your * nti a to stop the evening, to be mercilessly interrupted by bis wife, with—well, when will you come a.vl take a cup of tea with us?” *3 if she had detected the lurking intention as soon as it was formed. Really, 1 cannot understand how it is that human nature is still Willing to submit to such inconvenient- -s; and that iu°spitc'of l>rs. Commons, people arc • Constantly found, not only perpetrating mar. riage, but persisting to their last brealh in jus tifying their conduct, gliding the ir till they look like transports to all hut them selves, and preaching up their independence till, like patriots, they half delude them selves with a notion that they are. in earnest. Ida not go quite so far as the philosopher, who wished that tho hit:-.an race could be continued like trees ; so that when a man wanted an heir be might only have to plant himself in bis garden—set bis housekeeper to water him—and wait for the shoot sprouting forth. This is a philosophy that is beyond .rv;; but I.do wish that there wore some mod ification in the article of marriage ; that the practice of widows throwing themselves on the funerrj-pilc of tliofr husbands, were not confined to the Hindoos, hut that something of the kind could be adopted here—as, in stead tf worrying us to death, it would then "become the gramt aim of tlicir existence t* "keep us alive alive as long as possible. Or-pcrhapX if the husband were to incur the penalty, it would he as well; it would ci-rfi-jn ty tend to a diminution of the number of ,1. r- Viagcs—nresult wh'di, besides sitting tin Malthusian* at rest for ever, no slight ;u!\ a;n tage—would have a sci.Nhle effect in the . •-■W-market, bv humh.'u-g tho coquitti.Y. and taming thelf-tinagants. ' j' 1 •prejudice of the human mind an fivnorofmar* Tinge j s’id a proneness to commit i? v.hcn a nineteen, that creates the misehrf- It men wore less ready to fall into the snnre, Itainoi would he- less ll posed to make then. wtnsthJe that they *in it. The more is not the merrier, wVlhis case, j acre arc in >'auceS, i know; where marriage is mdis pcnsihleg such as, whri>a man has made up his mind to take t. (linking. Nothing is more uncomfortable, after spending an even ing in the society ot a few glasses of bran dy and water, than to return home iatc r knouk at the wrong door for half cn hour, repeat the operation at one for three quarters, then recollect that you the yin your pocket after all, open it, grope about in : the dark, find your way into any room, care-] V-ss whether it*be the landlady’s or not, and fttl fast asleep before yon have g -' otic boot ®<L All this is unpleasant, and ho\ person so intending to imlnlge shouW'ecrtainiy ntatri moniarc his CJnd'tioTi, in cr.hr tluit !a nits ‘ Havb sotnebo y to take care of him. In cases 1 he this it w add be excusable ; but we ar< ru c hour sc ing nr . riagbs committed upon frivo’’ll* pret. riccij, when there is 1 1 call yno earthly occasion for it. One would ) think it was considered quite a pleasure to | rcjeat the responses and to pay parsons their [ fees-*—to cat fifteen shillings worth of cake, [ anti go tra tiling in a shabby chaise* 1 make not these observations about wives I with any desire to depreciate my own.— Luckless and ill-fated is the wight who hath | a partner prone to cards or paint, to throwing | teacups, or dancing with first cousins not ! absolutely ill-looking. I pity him from the very depth of tny spirit —yet I envy him.— i Yes. his is an enviable state of existence to [mine. What is a simple fracture or two, or a slight scar on (he temple—on a dinner-ser vice demolished—or the loss of the money which you had put by for your summer ex penses at somewhere, to an old card-player that you hate ; or even the elopement with t!ie not ill-’ooking first cousin, which is the consequence of your remonstrance ? Alt these are nothing to my sufferings, but tnev spring from a different cause. \am not tor mented with a bad wife i but I am tortured —that is not the word, does not express what 1 mean—-with a good one. All my calami ties arise from iny good-fortune ; my iildiscrib* able misery lies at the door of my unspeaka ble happiness. lam like a man who having unfortunately drawn a prize of ten thousand pounds, is immediately thrown Uy his credi tors into prison for twenty thousand; or I re semble the unhapey winner of the prize-ox lately‘raffled for, whose appetite reduced the envied possessor of the beast to tile verge of bankrupey. lam ruinod, I repeat, by my good fortuc. Ilad “my wife” been less amia ble, I had been less afflicted ; but she is per fection—and lam undone. Oh ! ye, who love—but have the incalculable advantage of not being .beloved in return ; ye, whose wives toward your devoted attention with the most profound and unmitigated hatred; ye, who never knew what it was to lie doatedon to a degree of inconvenience, which, as nov-| els and newspapers remark, “ may be more easily conceived than described”—-how little able are ye to sympathise with tee! lam the very victim of “my wife’s” idolatry, the martyr to tny own felicity. Her affection for to .■ is of that microscopic kind that siic is perpetually detecting some horrible omen in what 1 had foolishly looked upon a3 a pros pect of pleasure. She finds Idols upon my sun when 1 fancy it all brightness. She sees poison in every thing thajt 1 happen, by anv ( chance, to have a partiality for. She is such a faithful guardian to my happiness, and takes; extraordinary care of my comforts, that she never lets me have any for use. Every dis-! aster that has happened to me for these ten j years may be clearly traced to her precau-, turns for avoiding it. Lost I should git into any danger, or rather lest her affectionate spirit should miss the delight of sharing it with me, she never trusts me out of iter sight. There she is always at tny elbow, taking care, a3 she says, that I want for nothing- “a form of life and light, That seen because a pari of 9iglit ! • And row' where’er 1 turned mine eye—” In fact, I s&n’t turn it, upon the most trival objection,without undergoing a cross-examin ation to as my motive for looking at it. If mv eve happened to fall upon the window or be turned towards the 1 am saluted w ith— “ \Vhat is :he matter ! Are you going out ?” —if iny glance wanders round the room she remark it, and says—“ Can I get you any thing !” or if it be tixed for a moment on the lire—“ You are cold. Shall 1 ring for some eoals ?”—nay, if i glance, though c-er so carelessly, at the girl who brings them—the same question is ready; —“What do you want ? any thing that I can get for you?”— Her tender rogard for my health takes place of every other feeling; I have been a most pitiable invalid for many years —not that 1 feel ill—quite the contrary ; you would think me remarkably strong and healthy ; but “my wife” knows better—she is aware that i am of a most delicate and sickly constitution, and she accordingly abridges my beef-steak ami locks up my cigars, with a firmness that a mounts to something philosophic. She sees the water conic into my eyes—or mouth — but without relenting. In short, she is the most sensitive of women. She detects a fe ver in the very opening of a door, and dis covers a rheumatism in every keyhole. She never uses an umbrella until she is sure it is thoroughly aired ; is seized with an ague at the sight of tho damp newspaper regularly every morning; and once experienc'd in ilamaiion, which she attributed to her having incautiously drank some water out of a wet glass. I said that I would paint her portrait and then tell my story ; I ln;vc finished my pen and ink sketch ; and my wtory will bring me to tiie end of my paper. The adventure rose out of that inces:. nt a; .! amiable anxiety for my health which I cannot too touch admire— or lament. “I\oplc rannot he too careful of them selves, particularly at this trying season.— Now do take it, dear l, .” .*• >Ji ! ro, it would be quite unnecessary.” “You arc so careless. Who is to ntir.se you if you catch cold ? Now, oblige me by taking it—you \-d better.” “Ridiculous! llowcan you press it upon me ’vhcn l say so positively that 1 don’t want it. I never heard of such a tiling, and it would he , ally absurd.” “Not so absurd as your refusal. I can’t cc.r>ceivc why you shouid make so many scru pl s —w hen it’s all for your owii good. I'm sure you'll catch cold. You know your cough is very bad u 1 ready — the r-. it’s coming on | now ; it will spoil ill the folds of your cravat : before dinner. I’ray oblige me; f* reasona | hie and put it in your pocket- Well, it’s j very teasing of you—l'm sure you might as well.” ’l’hc article which was so assiduowly and tenderly pressed upon my attention, hut which l person riugly declined accepting, was by no means a ;omnutic one. It was not one ot those infallible and heaven-invented restora tives for which all fcmal- s —hut eldi rly ones especially—arc- so deservedly celebrated. It wps neither charm nor cordial; no, it w.: <<?hing more er less than—a nightcap 1 Tit dialogue took place just a.s I was on the po> of going out to dinner, au nt, for the cv-.n , ing was wet, and ‘ro wife” for once Insit;’- it.-il •oshaev th r - liormes -vhi.-'i saw e # -- cumulating round my head. It was too late to scud an excuse; 1 was obliged to go — “my wife” insisting that I should not think, under any circumstances, of returning home I through the night-air, but that 1 should make | up mv mind to take a bed at tny friend’s.— ; Having without much ditliculty gained tins point, she pertinaciously petitioned for anorli cr ; and ever watchful for an opportunity of exercising the privileges of a guardian angel, ; insisted on my taking with me my nightcap, i Vainly did J assure her that it was utincCcs ary ; that where 1 found a pillow I should find a cap; or in the event of the worst, that I should still be able to hit upon some means or protecting tny temples from cold, and my curls from disorder. 1 was set down for a visionary, a rash, thoughtless enthusiast.— “Insides,” said my amiable torturer, “ even if you sixovcd find a cap upon the pillow, 1 which, considering the uncertainty of this ! life, does not appear more than probable ; ( but even if you should, it may not be aired as it ought to be. As for trusting to chance I own I am surprised at your imprudence.— : A dependence upon providential interference i is a becoming feeling in some cases, but not J in this, whetj the means of averting calamity | arc already in your power. Now take it ; without another word—here it is, as white— “as your arm.” , “Nonsense ! Hut besides all the reasons 1 have stated, I must coulbss that 1 should not like you to wear any but your own natural nightcap. You would look like somebody j else in another, and 1 should have unpleasant dreams 1 should see you approach in an odious caricature of a cap, not in a nice, : neat, becoming ornament like this. I’tn sure I never saw a more graceful head-dress, con sidering its shap-. Oh, 1 can’t bear the thought of your wcaringauother. Ifyou Jove me, if you wish to dream of me, you’ll take this—unless you expect to find Fortunatus's.” 1 reasoned and romanced—smiled, scolded, and humoured: but i persisted in adhering to my principles, and rejected the nightcap in disdain. At last the point was given up ; my wife threw her arms round me, and assur ed me that her anxiety was only for my good ’ ---! repeated the usual affectionate phrases in ; such cases made and provided—and we sep i arated with a world of protestation on tny part, and a universe of advice upon hers. When I arrived a ! . my place of appoint ment l found a pleasant party. Every bod) was in high spirits. The ladies listen to our compliments as if they had never heard them before, and we, all •.au'du’d al each ctlter’s jokes as if we had never told them ourselves. We sat down to dinner. Among tiie company was one of that class o! lemales who may be designated ••saoguish-l iug ladies, Who was young, ivindsoutp, pos- 1 sesst l extreme sensibility ,an ardent fancy, i and reftn<hi nerves. A whisper affected her like an earthquake, and a hint threw her in to hysterics* It was necessary,in addressing her, to speak with piofbund caution, in case ot giving alarm to her sensibilities, ot tr ad ing upon a- u jo.uipssible tn keep out of danger, unless every sentcite, i,., ( | j been a salcty-lamp. I felt, in-offering a cone i plitnent, as if I were presenting a spark to a | brarcl of gunpowder ; and wms obliged to cx ’ tinguish its meaning before it was fit for use. We were seated in a circle of elegant en joyment, not dreaming of disaster, when the genius of this sensitive plant—she wrote poctiy, just by way of escaping tho imputa tion of singularity—was served up as a sub ject for discussion. Unlucky theme for me! 1 was sitting opposite to her, and was appeal ed to, in a uianuer that rendered it impossi ble to escape, for my opinion upo.i'tlic merits of an unpublished poem, which she had a little time before sent me to read, and which I had returned, (having read three lines of the three thousand,) with the usual flourish about an “admiring world,” and “Mr. Mur ray’s good fortune” in obtaining so extraordi nary a production. Of course, nothing is so easy as to give an opinion —mine was, that the poem could not fail of becoming a dan gerous rival to the “statue that enchant: the world,* and that it was, in short, nothing less than a miracle in manuscript. I hate y'our bit-and-bit eulogists, and like to do the tiling handsomely when Ido begin. This was all very satisfactory; but when I was asked to describe the poem-—the stanza, the scene, the subject—l was puzzled. Ail 1 knew was tltUt it was written with a light hand and new pen, and stitched in a pink wrapper. But to describe it!—-1 was confident, of course, that the hcioine died broken-hearted, beoause that’s a rule w“bout a single modern excep tion—but that was not enough. My hesita tion already, I perceived, began to affect the aspen nerves 4l the fair author. She was be ginning to suspoct —while those who had barbarously driven me into the dilemma, w-erc beginning to titter. Something must he doiie—and so 1 determined upon ventur ing on’thc last resource in * nose cases, and on trusting to candour to help me out. I con fessed tka, I could not satisfactorily describe the poem, as 1 had not been able to lyad it quite through. At ;. out the two hundred and fifty-third page an accident, which 1 could no particularly describe, had preven ted my reading farther, and I had never after been able to complete it._ The nature of this mysterious accident, was then inexorably de manded, by my persecutors —and to relieve my embarrassment, and to gain time, I had recourse to niv handkerchief. Avery good effect i; sometimes produced, by taking a neatly folded one by the corner, and giving it a graceful jerk, so as to scatter the perfume as you raise it to your lips. 1 took it from my pocket for this purpose—it was folded up. I held it by the rorne-r accordingly, and eleva ted it to a becoming -height, in order that it might fall with pro; er elegance and cffW. I Imagine my astonishment, mv agony, my r shame, it was—not my handkerchief, hut ) my—rd'.litcap! Alas! my too-fond, too care ful wife, had, without i / knowledge, slipped it. .to my pocket, when she embraced me at my departure. No culprit at the fatal no -.-ounglov ier of money, with an old bride—mi monarch | w hen tlm emblem of liberty, or revolution, is I borne through his pai.ice halls—ever saw a cap with >..eh utfi-r consternation: I held it j up between my finger and tlimnh—not by : flicro*-nor,tor it linl non bv the while tassel flint adorned it. 1 was deprived of the fiower of motion, n>y eyes fixed upon it; and 1 could neither drop it, no" the hand to which it seemed to grow. There it hung, like Ma homet’scolfin. It looked pale iviiii horror. It was suspended before me, like a winding sheet. It seemed like a concentrated snow storm ready to burst on my head, iat length cast a glanoe round the table. The female portion of the spectators were endeavouring to look grave and angry, amidst their laugh ter. The rest did not attempt to ounce M the naturecf tiie emotions uiy inadvertence hud produced. The langhter was mul-sgrised, and I felt that l must fight a duel with every man in thoroom. I Ventured one half-avert ed lobk at tiie fair poet, who had thus unin tentionally conspired with “my wife” to bring this disgrace upon my head, i read my his tory in her eyes—the truth was too clear to be a moment questioned. Iliad ben prais inglier poem—l had dwelt with delight upon its beauties—l had confessed that nn accident had interrupted tiie nerusal;. nd when asked what that accident was, 1 had in the most pointed, public, and deliberate manner eleva ted a night cap ? Could any declararion tell more plainly, that 1 fell asleep over the pro duction I had so satirically admired* What ? to display a nightcap to a young and inno* >ccnt Creature, who had probably nevet seen her gr.-.idfather’s?—not even her little broth er's, after the border was taken off? The offence was beyond the hope of pardon, and apology was Useless. The lady spoke first—what I know 1 not* 1 only heard her stammer out something, like an /Eolian harp afflicted with 'tbo palsy, or a piano-forte with an impediment in its speech! I could not reply. 1 had borne the laughter, but it was impossible to encounter the. con dolexce of the whole room. Retreat was mv only refuge, and I determined at once to de camp. 1 teigned a fishbone iti my throat, or something equally inconvenient, pulled the cap furiously upon my head—nay, over mv eyes—and without uttering a word, or stop ping to answer one, rushed hatlcss into a hackney coach. “My wife” watched over the progress of my fever for three months, with the truest and most tender affection. llow thankful the kind-hearted creature was that the incident had taken so serious an effect upon me ! afforded her such an admirable opportunity of evincing her devotion. How grateful was she for my sufferings !—she had die exqui site enjoyment of alleviating them. I some times think that she almost w ishes me dead —for the pleasure of being utterly inconso lable. FrolA t>u Buffalo Journal , A Mom mu’s Love. —Deep is the foun-' tain of a mothe r’s love. Its purity is like the purity <!f the ‘sweet south’ that breathes upon a bank of violet*. The tear drop speaks not half its tenderness. There is it language in a mother’s smile—but it betray* not all her nature. 1 have sometimes tbo’t, while gaz •ng on her countenance—its dignity slightly changed, by tho. :-—“••**„♦ a/:coiiia-ftf her young child, as it repeated, in obedience, ! some endearing word—that the sanctuary of Ia mother’s heart is fraught with untold vir tues. So fondly, so devotedly she listens to [ its accents, it would seem tiiat she catches ! from them a spirit that strengthens the bonds of affect ion. 1 have seen the mother in al most every condition of life—Hut her love j seems every where the same. 1 have heard her hid, from her bed of straw, her darling child com* and reciette the impress of her bps ; and as hot*feeble strains mingled in the air, 1 have thought there was loneliness in* them not unlike tiie loneliness of an angel’s melody. And I have seen the mot tier at her fire side deal out her last morsel to her little ones so pleasantly, that her own cravings seemed appeased by the pleasure -die enjoyed. But who, that is not a mother, can feel as she feels ? We may gaze uport her as she sings the hi Ha by to her infant, and read in iicr eye the index to her heart’s affections—wc may study the demure cast of her countenance, and mark tiie tenderness with which she pres ses her darling to her bosom, but we Cannot feel the many influences that operate upon her nature. Did you ever mark tiio care with which she watches the cradle Where sleeps her infant? How quick she catches the low sound of approaching footsteps ! With what fearful earnestness she gazes at her little charge, as the Sound intrudes ! Does it move? Does its slumbers break ? How sweet the voice that quiets it ! Surely, it secins that the blood of hut one heart sustains the exist ence of both mother and child. And did vou ever behold a mother, as she watched tho re ceding light ofher young hnbt-’s crriMerice? It is a scene for the pencil. Words c.mnot portray the tenderness that lingers upon her countenance. When the last spark has gone out, what emotions agitate her ! When hope has expired, what unspeakable regret over whelms her ! 1 remember to have seen a sweet boy home to his mother w ith an eye closed fore, r, He had strayed silently aw-ay at noon day, and ere night fell, death had clasped him in its embrace. The lifeless tenement of that dear hoy, as it hurst upon the mother’s vision, seemed to convey an arrow to .her heart— When the first paroxysm of grief had suhsi ; ded, she laidhcrear to his lips, as if unwil- I ’;ng to credit tale his pale com-tenance bore. She put her hand upon his breast, hut, she felt no beating there. She placed the ends of her soft fingers upon big brow, but it wascokl. She uttered aloud his name—she listened—hut the echoing of that name elici ted no responding voice. “Then came tin misgiving that her child was ded.” She im print and many a kiss upon hie cheek, and her ' tears mingled with the cold mej.sttire upon , his brow:. Her notions betrayed a fear that she could not do justice to her feelings—that she could not express half the anguish of her bosom. The silence that followed thatsCCi. was like the siloncc of tin- sepulchre. It i-Scoated of too holy a n-atur. to and sturh. There was a charm in it—it was a charm hallowed by the unstrained gu.-hes of a mothers love. Did you ever awaken, while‘cm a hod of sickness, and find a mother's iiand pressed closely upon your forehead ? If, is pleasant thus to break from a dream,' even w hen afflic tion is o:i vou. You are assured that you have -it least'>ne friepd. and that that friend is a true one. You are assured that if you | never again go forth in the world, you will uie lamented*—and when pain • and distress are on you, such an assurance is consoling At such a time, you can road more fully a mother’s feelings than a tongue can express them, The anxiety with which she gazes upon*,O’!—the tenderness with which she sympathises whh you—-the willingness with which she supplies your wants —all serve to .represent the secret working of her heart. Hut a mother’s love is unceasing. Her children, as they n -vancc in years, go cut one by one into tiie world, and arc soon scattered in the direction of the four winds of heaven. Hut though rivers may tieperate them from her, they separate not the bands of her affec tion. Time and distance rather increase her anxieties. She knows not the strength of her attachments until the becomes scpera*ed frmn her offspring. Until she bids a child farewell, hef nature remains untric.r. But at tiie dread moment of separation,she feels the full weight of the many treasures of affection she has unconsciously imbibed. Mho can look coldly upon a mCthcr?— Who, after the unspeakable tenderness and care with which she lias fostered him through infancy, guided him through childlic >d, and deliberated with him through the perplexities of opening manhood, can speak irreverently of a mother ! Her claims to his affection are founded in nature,and cold must be the heart that oan deny tlitm. Over (lie grave of a ffiend, of a brother, or of a sister, I would plant the primrose, for it is emblematical of youth ; J>iit over that of a mother, l would let the gfecn grass shoot up unmolested ; for there is some thing int' e sin: ,'e covering which nature spreads upon the grave, tin t well becomes the abiding place of decaying age* . '—’J r ixiwi Frflm the New-York Courier and Enquirer. MONSIEUR CHAUBERT—'TIIE I’l K E KINO. Who has not lipard of (he lire King?— the swallower of poisons ? The epicure in arsenic and phosphorus ? tho tippler in boil ing Florence oil ? The celebrated Monsieur Cliaubert who uses melted lead to wash his hands! and warms himself in an oven along side a beef steak! Who has astonished ail England, has arrived in thisLcitv, and is ex hibiting his experiments in Clinton hall* He is certainly the eighth wonder of the world —the real salamander, to whom fire heat, poison, &c. are perfectly innoxious. On Thursday evening last he gave a pri vate exhibition off us wonderful powers to a select audience of scientific and literary gen- Itlemen at tho lecture room of Clinton Hall. jOn entering tiie IVtil the first tiling that i.-.trikes the eyes of ttte spectator is a large : oven built of bricks vgitl resting ou the ftffor oi the building. lit tiie front of the oven rs ! a small platform wflli a table, lights, &c. 1 where Monsieur C’iauber performs his ex ! peri merits. On tiie opening of the exhibition j Mons’r C. made a sport address in English ; ! peculiarly marked ijowever, by a foreign ac ’cciit. lie assured the audience that there ! was not the slightest trick or deception in ! any of his experiments, he counted the mi -1 nutist igvcstigatiqn of every scientific gentle* > i.r*n lit tile toe':in ' The exhibition commenced with a red Lot )shovel, which lie drew over his face and ito .gue with the greatest sangfroid imngin ; able. Not the slightest injury was inflicted [oil him. He also drew it over liis Lair with [the same result. “Try gentlemen” said 4 he [ “and satisfy yourselves.” Several gentlc | men reached up their fingers and placed ! them on his Lair and cheek. They drew them ! hack with all imaginable haste as if they had been touching tiie shovel itself. His face and ' hair wav covered with hi# antidote, and lie i told them so. This excited much surprise. ! Hi s next experiment was with Sealing wax. |He held the wax to the candle and dropt it ! m his tongue. “Does any gentleman want ito take a seal and give it the impression?” | No one seemed desirous of that office', and ! Monsieur C. took up a portion of the wax I between his finger and-thumb and drew it in a siring from his tongue. He prssed over to i other experiments, and prepared to take the’ ! poison-—He told the company that he would ' take from 30 to 40 grains of phosphorus, 4 | grains of which is sufficient to kill any indi j vidual. “If any gentl.vnan, however, wishes jto use Ids own phosphorus, I will do so,” ] said he. Mr. v/hilton, the chymist, had : brought some phosphorus with him. llcde [ sired his young man to take it out and weigh j off 40 grains. He did so, in the presence ol | the medical men. “Let me try that,” said j Mon'r C. He took a small portion and rub j bed it against apiece of paper. It produced j ignition immediately. “!.)at is ver gopd*— : Very good,” said Monsieur. At hi3 request, !)r. Yates undertook to administer the dose. !it was put into a spoonful of water. Mon’r ! knelt down, put his hands hell did his hair, | Imd Ids stock taken off—“No-.v,” wild he, ’“I am ready ” —Dr. Yates proceeded ami I poured it into his mouth. “Well,” said the ; Doctor, with a sigh, “1 never administered such a dace before in my life.” When every | particle was swallowed, he Called on the ! company to examine his u-ruth and see that ! no deception was practised ; to satisfy them i selves that it was not hid in his mOiTth. Sev eral medical men didgo. They were perfect ly satisfied. The* put their fingers into his M.Voutb, and can.--down from the pluUorm in j uftcr astonishment. j The next experiment was w ith melted 'lead. He took a tin pah full of melted lead, ( and plunged his fingers into it, took a por tion in Ins hand, and made Believt, he was j washing the tips cf his fingers. “No mistake, ' gentlemen,”said ! “put your lingers hove.” Several did so, and Wore glad to take them front the vessel again. They were perfectly j satisfied. The nc :' experiment was swarnvinga i.spoonfnl ot Florence oil. A tin pan* full of this liquid was ht.-uied to the hoilii :- point, iln for - the tdience. lie then rook the ves | scl and plunged a Fahrenheit thermometer j into the I oiling liquid, and exhibited the in strument to the gentlemen. It stood at 340. I ‘ .Satisfy yourselves.” I/e then took a spoon, j dipt it ►.i the oil, filled it, put it in his mouth | ind actually swallowed it down. fdvery per -1 son present was satisfied tiiero was node- Iceptieii practised. “What a fellow!” said one. “Why, s:;iu auou:*.*, a , w , not to be named to‘c.ua i, " 1 ,i!;inus to liim.” “WilC Ct'Z"*’ ° said a third, “behind Moosumr (V'T 1 ' and sec if hi., feet are not cfoveu ” ' n “Now genlie-men,” said Monsieur C - shnil prepare to go into the oven ,Ji, , dish of beefsteaks with me to be He retiree a few minutes to change .’ dress. Doctor Pascal,s, who appeared lie puzzled and perplexed at all (W ( v ' l rime. its, took the opportunity to Men Z' the oven and look in. He opened the ,L? ' i thrust his hand in—He soon drew Wl. “Howisthe oven Doctor!” asked crphysician. . “By George I could go self, replied the Doctor. Monsieur 2 beri, however, soon appeared, went i, tf oven, roused up the fire; and made arm menfs, He w ore over his dress a l ar <r e tM great court. “Why do vou wear that ed someone. It is all the same to me”! he, “to go ia dr.sseu or undressed; if j " in undressed, I must be very cautious w J' come out not to catch cold.' I wear ac® great coat over my dress, because it prcZ me from catching cold; hr ides, I have! become economical.” This was rcccr ' witli applause, lie then put the thermal termto the Oven to ascertain the temneratw “Bring the beefsteaks here." They 3 brought. He put them into a tin dish; S J kleu, salt anti pepper on them. “1 lil ie ~|c tv of streaks,” said tie, quite jovially. y O , gentlemen,” cried Monsieur, “come and! t.,e thermometer; but you must look shati because ihe least approach to the cold will make it full rapidly.” Three gentlemen went up to the oven i examine. He seized tiie thermometer fro the interior of the oven and hold it out ’ “How much f” It was several seconds befi* they found tiie mercury and then it wasS.'i “Oh” said he, “it is at Last 480, it has bl| ( snice I took it out.” He replaced the the mometer, put a black cap on Lis head, fc the dish of steaks placed along side of hi, tool: a large tin tube which he protrudi ihrough an aperture in the iron door to bret through, and then entered the overi. I)! ing his stay in the oven lie looked throe; his tube, talked rapidly and sung a pro French ; ir. lie was -•continually aski “how many minutes gentlemen?” “]( many ?”—One.”—“Two”— l “Three.” -( it must be more, gentlemen; oh it is \ hot, gentlemen; full 500 degrees; hmv; ny minutes ?” “Four—Five—Six—Seva Eight—minutes.” At eight minutes • fifty one seconds from iiis entrance oat bounced, came down on the all eov: w'.’li perspiration. “Feel his "pulse” ct several of the physicians. “Oh yes gen men. feel iny pulse,” eaid he, hokfrog lioth his arms. It was felt immediately found to he as high as 160. “No d.- lion” said he. “The devil a hit of dec tion is there, “said one of the spectators “Fetch me out the beef steaks,” said >1 I sieur, ‘they are well done now.” Tlkil was brought down and quite a rush wasm upon them. Every one tk-t could reach platform, cut a piece off' and fell a eating “ These steaks are very fine,” said one “Rather too much done,” said anotln* “ I hat fellow Chaubert,” said a grave leaiti personage chewing his steak and leaving ■ room,”is Certainly his Satanic majesty h i Drctor .Moot Went up to the oven, j head into the door, drew it r. pidlvc j and tiodded Very Significantly, as much a; ; say, “all right, no deception.” The rest the spectators stood gazing, talking, and pressing wonder, surprise, astonishment <5 &c. Monsieur Chaubert was a captain in service ol Napoleon. He was taken pri or |>y tiie Russians and sent to Si hi where it is supposed lie discovered kiss* antidote to fire and poison. Tw*> yrars; he excited great astonishment in Lonl and satisfied ihe colleg* of Physicians Surgcous, that there was no deception in ! experiments. lie was offered £500(1 [ ins antidote to prussic acid, but wowM take less than £IO,OOO. lie has a fatnil; ten children—is a good looking man—n an oval face and fine person. He W mustuelieos. Ho is quite talkative and tclligent, speaks fourteen lai.auagcs- Eiiglish lather incorrectly. He is trdj wondrous wonder. - From the Western Souvenir. TIIE DESERTED CHILDREN. A REAL INCIDENT. In "the Autumn of the year 1823, a i was descending the Ohio river with tl small children in a canoo. lie had lost wife, and in the emigrating spirit of out pic was transporting his all to anew com where he might again begin the world, riving towards evening at a small island, landed there with the intention of uncain| for the night. After remaining a short I he determined to visit the opposite-shore the purpose probably of purchasing p sions; and tolling his children that he v return to them, he paddled off leaving* alone on the island. Unfortunately he ir.t the shore with some loose company tfj !o viledhim to drink ; he became ictoMCt and in attempting V> return to die islam the night, was drowned ; the canoe fh away and no one knew of the cafastroph tii tiie following day. The poor dt children in the meanwhile wandered a the uninhabited island,- straining their eyes to catch a glimpse of their father. ■' came, aid! they had no fire nor food — n0 to rr • t upon, and no parent to waten them- 'i’hc v '.ather was extremely cold the eldest child, though but eight /.J age, remembered to have heard that p* w ho slept in the cold were sometimes and to death,—she continued therefore to"- about, and when the younger children out with fatigue and <irow: inn •* were n drop into slumber, she kept them awa ; amusing or alarming-stones. At last nature ceuld hold out no and the little • ties chilled and acliiu- r coldj threw themselves o;; the ground, her sister sat down and spreading <lH garmerds as wide as possible, drew tk 1 her lap and endeavoured to impart ,0 the warmth of her own bosom as sweetly in her arm?. Morning r! "'