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at an interview which he subsequently had with the Little Black Porter in Furnival’s Inn. W hen he communica ted the result of his investigations on the subject to the Doctor, that worthy personage protested that he should pass the residue of his life in mere amazement. George Wharton quitted Doctor Plvmpton’s house, without seeing Isa bel a< r ain, on the eventful morning when °he pen was placed in her hand to execute the marriage settlement; and. with the full approbation of his father’s attorney, he sailed, by the first ship, to his native land. Isabel pre vailed upon the Doctor to write to Godfrey Fairfax, inviting him to fulfil his promise of paying them a visit. — She also wrote to Godfrey herself, by the same packet: but the fickle young man had changed his mind before the letters reached him ; and six years al ter the departure of George VV harton from England, Adam Burdock was em ployed to draw a marriage settlement between the still blooming coquette, Isabel Plympton, and her early ad mirer, Charles Perry, who for the pre ceding fifteen months had been a wi © dower. €l)t Intrrl! slltnr. THY WILL BE DONE. Thy will be done. Although we now Receive the chastening oi tHy rod, Under its weight we calmly bow ; Teach us to breaih our olemn vow, And pray—“ Thy will be done, O God !” Thy will be done. Though grief and care Attend our journey—-just begun, Teach us each adverse gale to bear, And meet each ir.al with this prayer, “ Father above —thy will he done.” Thy will be done. O teach us all, The thorny paths of vice to shun, Teach us to heed our maker's call, And pmstrate at thy leet .o lull, Aud everpiay—•‘Thy will be done.” Thy will be done. Whate’er betide Oar transient course be ea h lite sun, May we with childl.ire faith confide la ‘hy protection, true and tried, Aud humbly pray—“Tliy w.ll fit done.” Lesson for Sunday, November 17. THE UNSPEAKABLE GIFT. ‘ 1 Thanks be unto Cod for his unspeakable gilt.”—2Cor. ix. 15. God is essentially and immutably good. All the virtues and excellencies that adorn us as creatures, as well as all the gifts and graces that ennoble us as Christians, are the streams issuing from him as the divine Fountain, or the beams descending from him as the Father of lights. But Christ is his un speakable gift, for which our unfeigned gratitude is demanded. Observe The gift bestowed. It is styled un speakable. Jesus is so, In the glory he possesses. There is in him, as God and man, a combina tion of excellencies, a glory of wisdom, power, love, majesty and grace ; a glory that outsh lies the brightness of the sun. In the grace he manifests. Who can fathom the depths of his love, or de scribe the riches of his g-ace? We behold it in its heights, and lengths, and breadths, and depths; and in the vast contemplation are lost in wonder and astonisement. In the sufferings he endured. Were not the pangs of his soul unutterable, when the sword of Divine justice pierced him, and the arrows of the Almighty fastened on him ? In the blessings he bestows. The sa tisfaction cannot be fully expressed; the peace passeth understanding; the hope is within the veil, the joy is un speakable, and the glory that awaits us is yet to be revealed. The gratitude paid. God is the Giver. It is according to the purposes of his grace, the promises of his word, and the fullness of time. How is this gift to be acknowledged? By an ardent attachment to him. — There is every thing in Christ to attract your love, and secure vour regard. “ How welcome,” says a living writer, “is Jesus to a soul taught of Gdfl ; as rural flowers to the sense, when the softening sun renders the air genial, when the fields breathe balmy fresh ness in the morning beam ; when dew drops tremble on every leaf; and the slow zephyr toils along the landscape, as if laden with sweets!” By a bold confession oj him. If this gift is received in the heart, it will be acknowledged openly and fearlessly. By active zeal for him. The best way to show our gratitude for the Fa ther’s gift, is to seek to spread abroad the Saviour’s fame. If God has given us his Son, let us give him our hearts. ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHILDREN. I once saw a preacher trying to teach the children that the soul would live after they were all dead. They listen ed, but evidently did not understand it. lie was too abstract. Snatching his watch from his pocket, he said : “James, what is this 1 hold in my hand ?” “ A watch sir.” “A little clock,” says another. “ Do vou all see it?” “ Yes, sir.” “ How do you know it is a watch ?” “ It ticks, sir.” “Very well —can any of you hear it tick r “All listen now.” After a pause— “ Yes, sir, we hear it.” lie then took off’ the case, and held the case in one hand and the watch in the other. “ Now, children, which is the watch ? You see there are two which look like watches.” “The little one in your right hand.” “Very well again. Now 1 will lay the case aside —put it away down there in my hat. Now let us see if you can hear the watch ticking!” “Yes sir, we hear it,” exclaimed se veral voices. “ Well, the watch can tick, and go, and keep time, you see, when the case is taken off and put in my hat. The watch goes just as well. So it is with you, children. Your body is nothing but the case, the soul is inside. The case—the body—may be taken olf and buried up in the ground, and the soul will live and think, just, as well as this watch, will go, as you see, when the case is off'.” “Let me Labour Now.”—When that zealous and truly apostolic labour er, Mr. Grimshawe,who usually preach ed from twenty to thirty times a week, was entreated at any tim-j to spare him self, his constant reply was, “Let me labour now for the hour is at hand when I shall rest.” C'jjr (Bssntjist. HOW TO MAKE HOME UNHEALTHY. BY HARRIET MARTINEAU. Emperor Yao (very many years b. c.) established a certain custom, which was followed, we are told, by his suc cessors on the throne of China. The custom was this. Outside the hall door of his palace, he suspended a ta blet and a gong ; and if one among his subjects felt himself able to suggest a good idea to bis ruler, or wished to ad monish him of any error in his ways, the critic paid a visit to the palace, wrote what he had to say upon the ta blet, battered at the gong, and ran away. The Emperor came out; and then, unless it happened that some scapegrace of a schoolboy had annoyed him by superadding a tly-away knock to a contemptuous hieroglyphic, he he gravely profited by any hint the ta blets might convey. Not unlike hon est, patriarchal Yao is our British Pub lic. It is summed out to read inscrip tions at its door, left there by all who have advice to give or faults to depre cate. The successors of Yao, finding upon their score so many conflicting tales, soon substituted for the gong five instruments of music. It was required, then,that the moiiitorshould distinguish, by the instrument upon which lie per formed his summons, what particular department of imperial duties it might be to which lie desired to call attention. Now’ not five but fifty voices summon our royal public. One mail courts at tention with a dulcet strain, one brays, one harps upon a string, another drums. And among those who have of late been busiest in pointing errors out, and drumming at the public’s door to have them rectified, are they who profess concern about the Public Health. For the writer who now proposes to address to you, O excellent Public, through these pages, a Series of Practi cal Hints as to How to Make Home Unhealthy, we would not have you think that he means to be in any re spect so troublesome as those Sanitary Instructors. The lion on your knocker gives him confidence; he will leave no disconcerting messages; he will seek to come into your purl out as a friend. A friend he is; for, with a polite sin cerity, he will maintain in all his argu ments that what you do is what ought always to be done, lie knows well that you are not foolish, and perceives, therefore, what end you have in view. He sees that you are impressrd deeply with a conviction of the vanity of life; that you desire, accordingly, to prove your wisdom by exhibiting contempt for that which philosopher after philoso pher forbids a thoughtful man to cher ish. You would be proud to have Un healthy Homes. Lusty carcases, they are for coarse folk and for the heathen; civilization forbids us to promote ani mal development. How can a man look spiritual, it he be not sickly? I low can a woman —Is not Paris the mode? Go, weigh an elegant Parisienne against a peasant girl from Normandy. It is here proposed, therefore, to now hon our your discretion by demonstrating publicly how right you are. Some of the many methods by which one may succeed in making Home Unhealthy, will be here detailed to you, in order that, as we go on, you may congratu late yourself on feeling how extremely clever you already are in your arrange ments. Here is a plain purpose. If any citizen, listening to such lessons, think himself wise, and yet is one who, like good M. Jourdain in the comedy, n'applaudit qua contresens —to such a citizen it is enough to say, May much good come of his perversity ! I. HINTS TO HANG UP IN THE NURSERY. In laving a foundation of ill health, it is a great point to le able to begin at the beginning. You have the future man at excellent advantage when he is between your fingers as a baby. One of Hoffman’s heroines, a clever house wife, discarded and abhorred her lover from the moment of his cutting a yeast dumpling. There are some little enor mities of that kind which really can not be forgiven, and one such is, to miss the opportunity of physieing a baby. Now 1 will tell you how to treat the future pale-face at his first entrance into life. A little while before the birth of any child, have a little something ready in a spoon; and, after birth, be ready at the first opportunity to thrust this down his throat. Let his first gift from his fellow-creatures be a dose of physic— honey and calomel, or something of that kind ; but you had better ask the nurse for a prescription. Have ready also, before birth, an abundant stock of pins; for it is a great point, in putting the first dress upon the little naked body, to contrive that it shall contain as many pins as possible. The prick of a sly pin is excellent for making children cry; and since it may lead nurses, mothers, and now and then even doctors, to administer physic for the cure of imaginary gripings in the bow els, it may be twice blessed. Sanitary enthusiasts anj apt to say that strings, not pins, are the right fastening for in fants’clothes. Be not misled. Is not the pincushion an ancient institution ? What is to say, “ Welcome little stran ger,” it’ pins cease to do so ? Resist this innovation. It is the small end of the wedge. The next thing that a child would do, if let alone, would be to sleep. 1 would not suffer that. * The poor thing must want feeding ; there fore waken it and make it eat a sop, for that will be a pleasant joke at the ex pense of nature. It will be like waken ing a gentleman after midnight to put into his mouth some pickled herring; only the baby cannot thank you for your kindness as the gentleman might do. This is a golden rule concerning ba bies: to procure s.ckly growth, let the child always suckle. Attempt no regu larity in nursing. It is true that if an infant be fed at the breast every four hours, it will fall into the habit of de siring food only so often, and will sleep very tranquilly during the interval. — This may save trouble, but it is a de vice for rearin: healthy children: we discard it. Our infants shall be nursed in no new-fangled way. As for the child’s crying, quiet costs eighteen pence a bottle; so that argument is very soon disposed of. Never be without a flask of Golfrey’s Cordial, or Daffy, in the nursery ; but the fact is, that you ought to keep a medicine chest. A good deal of curi ous information may be obtained by SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE. watching the effects of various medi cines upon your children. Never be guided bv the child’s teeth in weaning it. Wean it before the first teeth are cut, or after they have learned to bite. Wean all at once, tvith bitter aloes or some similar de vices ; and change the diet suddenly. It is a foolish thing to ask a medical attendant how to regulate the food of children ; he is sure to be overrun with bookish prejudices; but nurses are practical women, who understand tho roughly matters of this kind. Do not use a cot for infants, or pre sume beyond the time-honoured insti tution of the cradle. Active rocking sends a child to sleep by causing gid diness. Giddiness is a disturbance of the blood’s usual way of circulation ; obviously, therefore, it is a thing to aim at in our nurseiies. For elder children, swinging is an excellent amusement, if they become giddy on the swing. In your nursery, a maid and two or three children may conveniently be quartered for the night, by all means carefully secured from draughts. — Never omit to use at night,a chimney board. The nursery window ought not to he much opened ; and the door should he kept always shut, in order that the clamor of the children may not annoy others in your house. When the children walk out for an airing, of course they are to he little ladies and gentlemen. They are nor to scamper to and fro; a little gentle amble with a hoop ought to he their severest exercise. In sending them to walk abroad, it is a good thing to let their legs lie bare. The gentleman papa, probably, would find hare legs rather cold walking in the streets of London; but the gentleman son, of course, has quite another constitution. Besides, how can a hoy, not predis posed that way, hope to grow up con sumptive, if some pains are not taken with him in his childhood? It is said that of old time children in the Balearic Islands were not allowed to eat their dinner, until, hy adroitness in the shooting of stones out of a sling, they had dislodged it from a rafter in the house. Children in the British Isl ands should he better treated. Let them not only have their meals unfail ingly, hut let them he at all other times tempted and bribed to cat. — Cakes and sweetmeats of alluring shape and colour, fruits, and palatable messes, should, without any regularity, he add ed to the diet of a child. The stomach, we know, requires three or four hours to digest a meal, expects a moderate routine of tasks, and between each task looks for a little period of rest. Now, as we hope to create a weak digestion, what is more obvious than that we must use artifice to circumvent the stomach? In one hour we must come upon it unexpectedly with a dose of fruit and sugar; then, if the regular dinner have been taken, astonish the digestion, while at work upon it, with the appearance of an extra lump of cake, and presently some gooseberries. In this way we soon triumph over Na ture, who, to speak truth, does not per mit to us an easy victory, and does try to accommodate her working to our whims. We triumph, and obtain our reward in children pale and polite, children with appetites already formed, that will become our good allies against their health in after life. Principiis obsta. Let us subdue mere nature at her first start, and make her civilized in her beginnings. Le* us wipe the rose-tint out of the child’s check, in good hope that the man will not he able to recover it. White, yel low', and purple —let us make them to be his future tri-colour. [To he con tinned.] iT'ljr ffuirli) of jfnsljimi. GRAND REFORM IN CHRISTIAN COSTUME. Throughout Christian Europe, North and South America, and the European colonies in Asia, all classes of men above the grade of boors, have adopted the same fashion of dress. Between the gentleman in a St. Petersburg drawing-room on the first of January, and one in a Calcutta drawing-room on the first of July, there is no material difference of costume. A coat, vest, pantaloons and hat, made after the pre vailing mode in Philadelphia, are in no degree remarkable on the banks of a Dutch canal or on the peaks of the Pyrennees. But this is not all the ab surdity of Christian costume, that it is not adapted to the circumstances of the wearer, or the character or climate of his country. It caricatures the hu man form divine, takes from the well proportioned person his symmetry, and makes the ill-proportioned conspicu ously deformed. The painter and sculp tor reflect despairingly of their tasks when required to unite sentiment and historic truth in the likeness of any one wearing the preposterous dress of the present age. Hence we see the Duke of Wellington in gigantic bronze and primitive nudity—and Washington in marble almost as thoroughly disrobed. If the artist thus shrinks hopelessly from the attempt of embodying hero ism in breeches and a double-tailed coat, it must be that true taste abhors these disguises, and that the wearing of them is an outrage on nature and com mon sense. Among the suggestions growing out of the great Exhibition to be held next year in London, is one of a convention of artists to deliberate on this not un important matter of gentlemen’s—or if the more general word is preferable —of men’s dress, and to propose a change in it, conformable to the dic tates of true art. Nature teaches the admiration, love, and imitation of the beautiful. In the blue and spangled sky, in the green and flowery earth, in beast and bird, and above all, in the rose and lily, the diamond and the pearl of woman’s face, eye and mouth, we are taught that beauty is pleasing to the great designer and creator of all, and that man in cherishing his taste for it, is fulfilling a legitimate end of his intellect. The fashion of an intelligent man’s dress should not be left to the determination of an ignorant tailor— ignorant, we mean, of what constitutes artistical harmony of outline and of colour. This is a subject for the study and decision of Angelos, Raphaels, Corregios and Canovas —of the divinest imaginations which have given to the world imperishable creations of love liness. Why should all our associations of fitness and picturesque effect in costume be confined to canvass or to the stage? Why should real life he robbed of any attainable enjoyment ? There have been various lanciful definitions of man —hut none, perhaps, would be more accurate, than to call him an animal with a perception ol the beautiful — peculiar to him, and which no teaching can impart to the brute. Not to exer cise this perception, not to contribute to the pleasure which it may impart, is to discard a distinctive and heavenly gift —more distinctive than truth, hope or charity, than memory or judgment. * * * * We have no idea that the world should be transformed into dandies, or that thoughts of dress should usurp the place of vital matters. Cicero, draped in the graceful folds of his toga, was probably no more a fop than Penn in Ins smooth shad-bellied coat. Any uni versal style can neither encourage nor repress dandyism —but if it be suitable and beautiful, it must go far to add to physical comfort and intellectual plea sure. To see a properly dressed per son, or an assemblage of persons, is to experience a certain emotion necessa rily agreeable. To cultivate such emo tions is a part of wisdom, an end of life, a foretaste of heaven, a right of our nature. No one walks the grand streets of Paris without enjoying the works of genius in the structures which fill his eyes. He may walk almost tor miles between the stupid brick walls of Philadelphia, w ithout experiencing one agreeable sensation. Shall we prefer Philadelphia to Paris on this account? The argument is equally good in a choice between well-designed and ill designed costume. It we have eyes to see, let us see —see all that human eyes may especially delight in, and not content ourselves with the vision that belongs to the beasts which perish. So heaven speed the cause of Art, and de liver man’s body from the dominion of ignorance and stupidity, which rob it now of its fair proportions. W hen we would assimilate any one to the most beautiful ideal, we say “as beautiful as an angel.” Imagine an angel habited in a black cylindrical hat, a sombre “dress” coat, vest and pantaloons, a starched standing shirt-collar and a choking cra vat! If we would not so disguise an gels, why so disguise the creature, who was made only “a little lower than the angels ?”—City Item. (gtntrnl ifilrrtir. THE FLOWER GATHERER. [FROM THE GERMAN OF KR IT MM ACKER. 3 “God sends upon the wings of Spring, Fresh thoughts into the breasts ot flowers.” Miss Bremer. The young and innocent Theresa had passed the most beautiful part ot the spring upon a bed of sickness; and as soon as ever she began to regain her strength,she spoke offlowers,asking cou tinualy if her favourites were again as lovel. as they were the year before when she had been able to seek for and admire them herself. Erick, the sick girl’s lit tle brother,took a basket,and showing it to his mamma,said in a whisper, “Mam ma, lwill run out and get poor Theresa the prettiest I Can find in the fields.” — !So out he ran, for the first time for many a long dav, and he thought that spring had never been so beautiful before; for he looked upon it with a gentle and loving heart, and enjoyed a run in the fresh air, after having been a prisoner by his sister’s couch, whom lie had never left during her illness. — The happy child rambled about, uphill and down hill. Nightingales sang, bees hummed, and butterflies flitted round him, and the most lovely flowers were blooming at his feet. He jumped about, he danced, he sang, and wandered from hedge to hedge, and from flower to flow er, with a soul as pure as the blue sky above him, and eyes that sparkled like a little brook bubbling from a rock. At last he had filled his basket quite full of the prettiest flowers; and to crown all, he made a wreath of lield strawberry flowers, which he laid on the top of it, neatly arranged on some grass, one might fancy them a string of pearls, they looked so pure and fresh. The happy boy looked with delight at his full basket, and putting it down by his side, rested himself in the shade of an old oak, on a carpet of soft green moss. Here he sat, looking at the beautiful prospect that lay spread out before him in all the freshness of spring, and listening to the ever-charming songs of the birds. But he had really tired himself out with joy ; and the merry sounds of the fields, the buzzing of the insects, and the birds’songs, all helped to send him to sleep. And peacefully the fair child slumbered, his rosy check resting on the hands that still held his treasured basket. But while he slept a sudden change came on. A storm arose in the hea vens, but a few moments before so blue and beautiful. Heavy masses of clouds gathered darkly and ominously togeth er ; the lightning flashed, and the thun der rolled louder and nearer. Suddenly a gust of wind roared in the boughs of the oak, and startled the boy out of his quiet sleep. lie saw the whole heavens veiled by black clouds ; not a sunbeam gleamed over the fields, and a heavy clap of thunder followed his waking. The poor child stood up, bewildcrd at the sdden change; and now the rain began to patter through the leaves of the oak, so lie snatched up his basket, and ran toward home as fast as his legs could carry him. The storm seemed to burst over his head. Rain, hail, and thunder, striving for the mastery, al most deafened him,and made him more bewildered every minute. Water streamed from his poor soaked curls down his shoulders, and he could scarce ly sec to find his way homeward. All on a sudden a more violent gust of wind than usual caught the treasured basket, and scattered all his carefully collected flowers far away over the field. 11 is patience could endure no longer, for his face grew distorted with rage, and he flung the empty basket from him, with a burst of anger. Cry ing bitterly, and thoroughly wet, he reached at last his parents’ house in a pitiful plight. Bi t soon another change appeared ; the storm passed away, and the sky grew clear again. The birds began their songs anew, the countryman his labour. The air had became cooler and purer, and a bright calm seemed to lie lovingly in every valley and on every hill. What a delicious odor rose from the freshened fields! and their cultivators looked with grateful joy at the departing clouds, which had poured the fertilizing rain upon them. The sight of the blue sky soon tempted the frightened boy out again, and being by this time ashamed of his ill-temper, he went very quietly to look for his discarded basket, and to try and fill it again. He seemed to feel anew life within him. The cool breath of the air—the smell of the fields—the leafy trees —the warbling birds, all appeared doubly beautiful after the storm, and the humiliating consciousness of his foolish and unjust ill-temper softened and chastened his joy. After a long search he spied the basket lying on the slope of a hill, for a bramble hush had caught it and sheltered it from the vio lence of the wind. The child felt quite thankful to the ugly-looking bush as lie disentangled the basket. But how great was his delight on looking around him, to see the fields spangled with flowers, as numerous as the stars of heaven ! for the air had nourished into blossom thousands of daisies, opened thousands of buds, and scattered pearly drops on every leaf. Erick flitted about like a busy bee, and gathered away to his heart’s con tent. The sun was now near his set ting, and the happy child hastened home with his basket full once more. How delighted he was with his flow ery treasure, and with the pearly gar land of fresh strawberry-flowers! The rays of the sinking sun played over his fair face as he wandered on, and gave his pretty features a placid and con tented expression. But his eyes sparkled much more joyously when he received the kisses and thanks of his gentle sis ter. “Is it not true, dear,” said his mother, “ that the pleasures we pre pare for others are the best of all ?” THE INDIANISOTII Eli. The following account serves to show us, that the Almighty has not left him self without a witness, even aiming pa gan nations, and it ill-becomes us to say that the Lord does not reveal him self at times to those who look to him for help, who never have heard of the way of life and salvation hy Jesus Christ. Famehanuet, an Indian of prime quality, and his wife, on Martha’s Vine yard, having buried their first fivechil dren successively, every one of them within ten days of their birth, —not- withstanding all their use of powows and of medicines to preserve them, — they had a sixth child, a son, born about the year 1638, which was a few years before the English first settled on the Vineyard. The mother was greatly perplexed with fear that she should lose this child, like the former; and utterly despairing of any help from such means as had been formerly tried, with so little success, as soon as she was able, with a sorrowful heart she took up her child, and went out into the field, that she might weep out her sorrows. While she was musing on the insufficiency of all human help, she felt it powerfully suggested to her mind, that there is one Almighty God who is to he prayed unto; that this God who had given being to herself, and all other people, and had given her child unto her, was easily able to continue the life of her child. Hereupon this poor pagan woman resolved that she would seek unto this God for that mercy, and she did accordingly. The issue was, that her child livgd ; and her faith in Him who thus answered her prayer, was wonderfully strengthened ; the consideration thereof caused her to dedicate this child unto the service of that God who hail preserved his life, and educate him, as far as might he, to become the servant of God. Not long after this, the English came to settle on Martha’s Vineyard ; and the Indians who had been present at some of the English devotions, report ed that they assembled frequently to gether, and that the man who spoke among them often looked upward. — This woman from this report, present ly concluded that their assemblies were for prayers, and that their prayers were unto that very God whom she had ad dressed for the life of her child. She was confirmed in this, when the Gospel was not long after preached by Mr- Mayhew to the Indians ; which gospel she readily, cheerfully, and heartfully embraced. And in the confession that she made publicly, at her admission in to the church, she gave a relation of the preparation for the knowledge ot Christ, wherewith God had, in this re markable way favoured her; Her child whose name was Japhet, became afterwards an eminent minister of Christ. lie was pastor to an Indian church on Martha’s \ ineyard ; he also took much pains to preach to other In dians on the main land, and his labours were attended with much success. INTERESTING BRIDAL RACE. The conditions of the bridal are these —The maiden has a certain start given, which she avails herself of to gain a suf licent distance from the crowd to ena ble her to manage her steed with free dom, so as to assist her in the persuit of the suitor whom she prefers. On a signal from the father, all the horsemen gallop after the fair one, and whichever succeeds in encircling her waist with his arm,no matter whether disagreeable or not to her choice, is entitled to claim her as his wife. After the usual delay incident upon such occasions, the maid quits the circle of her relations, and puting her steed into a hard gallop, darts into the open plain. When sat isfied of her position, she turns round to the impatient youths, and stretches out her arms towards them as if to woo their approach. This is the moment for giving the signal to commence the chase, and each of the impatient youths, dashing his pointed heels into his courser’s sides, darts like the unheed ing hawk in pursuit of his fugitive dove. The savannah was extensive, full 12 miles long and 3in width;-and as the horsemen sped across the plain, the fa vorite lover became soon apparent bv the efforts of the maiden to avoid all others who might approach her. At length, after nearly two hours’ racing the number of pursuers is reduced to four, who are altogether, and gradually gaining on the pursued. W ith them is the favorite; but alas! his horse suddenly fails in his speed; and as she anxiously turns her head, she perceives with dis may the helpless position of her lover. ‘ach of the more fortunate leaders, eager with anticipated triumph, bend ing his head on his horse’s mane, shouts at the top of his voice, “I come, my Peri! I’m your lover.” But she, ma king a sudden turn and lashing her horse almost to fury darts across their path, and makes for that part of the chum chum (plain) where her lover is vainly endeavouring to goad on his weary steed. The three others instantly cheek their career ; but in the hurry to turn back, two of the horses are dashed furiously against each other, so that both steeds and riders roll over the plain. The maiden laughed, (for she well knew that she could elude the single horseman,) and flew to the point where her lover was. But the only pursuer wss rarely mounted, and not easily shaken off. Making a last and desperate effort, he dashed along side the maiden, and stretching out his arm, almost won the unwilling prize; but she, bending her head to the horse’s neck, eluded his grasp and wheeled otF. Ere the discomfitted horseman could again approach her, her lover’s arm was around her waist; and amidst the shouts of the spectators they turned towards the fort. — Captain Burslam's Peep into Turkistan. iDrigiiml |'nrtrij. For the Southern Literary Gazette. TOGETHER. “ Together, oh the perfect happiness of that one word.” L. E. L. Heart3, to whom mine own is clinging, With a love so true and deep, Come gather round, this starless evening, And let us friendship’s vigil keep. List not the storm king as he rages, In this dark and gloomy weather, We have sunshine bright to cheer us, In that blessed word, “ together.” Ah, ye’ve come, but still are missing Links from out the household chain, Oh! will the future, e’re restore us, Those loved, precious forms again? Death and Absence, mighty shadows, Cast upon the household hearth, Thou hast borne our loved ones from us, Thou hast cheeked our songs of mirth. Sad hearts, for home forever sighing, Lone pilgrims from the household band, Seeking some oasis verdant, In the stranger’s desert land, — E’en if sad and weary hearted, Ye could bear life’s stormy weather, If above, in heaven’s cerulean, Shone the rainbow of “ together.” Gaze in memory's magic mirror, See the homestead’s open door, Look ! the loving group’s assembled, As they were in days of yore ! But see! a mighty shadow darkens, Home, and heart, and saddened face, Cast by truant brothers wandering, Far from out their household place. Blessed love, thou white-winged angel, Guarding home with faithful care, Weaving in a wreath immortal, Affection’s (lowers, springing there ; Standing firm with finger pointing Through misfortune’s stormy weather To the heaven’s, where in brightness Shines the rainbow of “ together.” Hearts to whom mine otvn is clinging, With this one thought, I ever pray, That nought shall have a strength sufficient, Our steps to part upon life’s way. Then let the wild waves dasli around us, Let misfortunes cloud our weather, We’ll link our clinging hands securely, And brave the bitter storm, “ Together.” Charleston. E. B. C. iDnr i'rttrrn. Correnyondenee of the Southern Literary Gazette. NEW YORK, Aug. 9, 1850. The Statue of Calhoun was brought up from Fire Island oil Thursday, by Mr. Johnson’s yacht, Twilight, which has been devoted by its owner to the recovery of the lost treasure, with so much energy and perseverance. The statue was placed on the deck of the yacht, shrouded with the national col ours, while the flags of the vessel and of the Revenue Cutter in attendance, were suspended at half mast. Mr. Maxwell, the Collector of the Port, ac companied by a large party of iadies and gentlemen, made a visit to the yacht on the same day, for the purpose of seeing the Statue of the illustrious Carolinian. It was not removed from the box in which it was first placed. I am sorry to say that it has su tained more serious damage than I supposed when 1 wrote you last. The left hand, whic h held the scroll inscribed with the word “Constitution,” is broken off, with a portion of the arm, as far as the elbow. Every effort was made to re cover the fragments, but without suc ee s. The first joint of the thumb alone was found in the box. It seems to have received a heavy blow, supposed to have been occasioned by the fall of the marble which formed a part of the vessel’s freight. With this exception, which I hope is not an omen of the fate of the Constitution, the Statue is uninjured. No stain or discoloration rests upon the pure marble. I under stand that it is to be sent to Charles ton by the Southerner, which leaves New York to-day. A sad incident took place day before yesterday, in the death ot a celebrated English authoress Mrs. Hell Martin. She had been in the city only about ten days, having arrived in a feeble state of health from Ireland. She was exposed to severe sufferings during the voyage, and on her landing, was so far reduced, as to be pronounced in a con dition of decided danger. After her arrival in New York, she went to the Union Place Hotel, with her husband, which house she never left. Great in terest was excited in her fate by the families residing at the Hotel, from whom she received every consolation that sympathy for a stranger and a woman of genius could render. She was the daughter of the most wealthy commoner in England, name l Martin, her husband on his marriage being au thorised by Act of Parliament to as sume the family name. The last work which she wrote was the novel called “Julia Howard,” recently re-published by the Harpers, and certainly one of the freshest, most brilliant, and most passionate pictures of the day. It is written in a style of such masterly boldness and vigor, that many have as serted that it could never have pro ceeded from a woman’s pen. I believe, on the contrary, that its exquisite de lineations of character, and its fine per ception of the mysteries of the heart, stamp it as the work of a woman—but a woman of no common originality and strength. Mrs. Martin is said to have held ex tensive landed estates in Ireland, but on account of the embarrassed condi tion of that country, to have received no avails from their revenue. Her visit to this country, I am told, was with re ference to a literary work, of which the scene was to be laid in America. Her sudden death has produced a sin cere grief in numerous circles here, which had been admirers of her genius, but probably now hearing of her name for the first time. I see it announced that Whitney, who obtained some celebrity a few years since as an elocutionist and lec turer, has returned to this country, from a very successful career abroad. He proposes to deliver a course on English oratory, with imitations of the most distinguished parliamentary ‘speakers in Great Britain. The enthusiasm for Jenny Lind still keeps up to white heat. Her audiences now present a curious amalgam of the fashion ot the city an 1 the bone and muscle of the country. The opera is not deserted, bat the regular votaries crowd Triplet* Hall in great numbers. At the sane time, the rail roads in every direction are bringing hosts of people on exc irsioa tickets to listen to the great attraction. Parties are con stantly arriving from towns and vil lages on the line of the rail road, from Vermont, New Hampshire and Mnsa chusetts. Jenny Lind is even melting down the difference between town and country. The hotels are constantly crowded with this influx of guests.— After a concert, the drawing roo ns of the Astor and Irving House are gay with rosy beauty from the “ rural dis tricts.” Os course, the Nightingale disappoints none who nave made the pilgrimage for her sake. Parodi has established her reputation as the best prima donna yet imported into this country. She has great dra matic power, and her vocalization is enchanting. She satisfies every one as a glorious singer, though the most ex acting critics do not admit her claims as a high priestess of art. She appears to-night for the third time as Norma, and will sing no doubt to an overflow ing house. The Mercantile Library Lectures were commenced on Tuesday evening, with a discourse by E. P. Whipple, the celebrated Boston review-writer. It was rather a brilliant performance, and spoken memoriter, without the slight est scrap of white paper to aid his re collection. The Committee of the Mercantile Library, in this way, are almost equal to Barnum, as caterers for the public. They have given the best that was extant for a few seasons past, and now their Lectures tia"e be come quite a prominent feature in the entertainments of the winter. I am sorry they hive decided to have the rest of the course in the dis nal laber naole, insteal of their pleasant, cosy lecture room in Clinton Hall. There is no news of interest this week in the literary world. No more gift-books as evergreens for Christmas. Putnam’s promised editions of illus trated works have not yet made their appearance. Mrs. E. Oakes Smith's play, called “ The Roman Tribute,” is to be brought out at the Philadelphia Arch-street Theatre on Monday night. Mr. and Mrs. Conmor have had it in hand for some time. They have stu died the parts with great car**, and be stowed a good deal of expense on the scenery and costume, intending to pro duce it in the most brilliant style. I J am told they are quite confident of suc cess, and that the expectations of the theatre-going public in the Quaker city have been highly raise !. The author ess is certainly a woman of fine genius, but she his never yet discovered the art of mixing her pure gold with the kind of alloy to suit the popular taste. James is lecturing at New Haven, with considerable success. In spite of the. attack made on him in the Ameri can Review, James is a fine fellow, and quite free from John Bull prejudices. He talks better than he writes and tells a story with irresistible unction. It is said tint B ilwer has become to tally deaf. One of his ears has been in a bad wav for some time, and during an operation by a London aurist, he suddenly lost the use of both. A sensation was produced in Broad way, a couple of ii nirs ago, by an as sault on James Gordon Bennett, by the recent candidate for the District Attornership, John Graham. Bennett had been wolfish on Graham during the canvass, and the defeated aspirant takes vengeance on the Editor. The attack was made in broad day-light, in a very p.iblie thoroagii fa re near Caaal street, and 6fcour.se drew together a great crowd. Bennett is said to have received some savage hits, an l to have come off with da uaged nose and eyes- The Police was scarce on the occasion, as Graham was well-dressed and Ben nett no favourite. T. -a ♦ The new patent for silvering gla-is is about to be applied to the keys of pianos, which will be additionally embossed and coloured according to circumstances. JlliattUimt}. a uisrociiAcr ===a=a = The Cincinnatti Nonpanel in - following article,gives a meritedreW to a class that are getting f ;ir rnerous in our country. We are very aristocratic here in goodly city of Cincinnati. Exclus'/ ness is fashionable—coteries are f/*’ ed, who fancy they comprise all •; taste, fashion and talent existing.* p daring intruder presumes to enter / charmed circle, he meets with a reby which tells him that he is looked on an inferior, no matter what his perse/ worth and merits may be. It serv/ the fool right. What business has at!’ one to suppose that sterling charaetf and cultivoted intellect could constitut a claim to be received into fashionable society? Fashionable—laugh! . children of coblersand tinkers puttir/ on airs, aping the manners of f ore ;/ aristocrats, and claiming to give t/i and character to society. FshionableZ quotha! Why they will srnell 0 f leather and prunella. A gentleman passenger on a steal boat from New Orleans to Cincinnati on the trip up, was introduced to a young lady on board by a gentleman relation of hers. We give a brief de script.on of the two. The young lady was charmingly lovely, and amiable in manners; the gent was witty, senti mental and amusing, his manner noble, his figure manly—such a one as would catch a lady's eye. Thrown together in each other’s so ciety, and mutually attracted, it is not to be wondered that they grew quite familiar. They had tete-a-tetes on the guards, promenaded the decks arm in arm, the gentleman whispered soft non sense in the lady’s ear. The passen gers pronounced it a case of love at first sight, the ladies were more re spectful to one who they thought was soon to be a matron, and chamber maids, (as chambermaids always do,) waited upon no one else but the” bride. Miserable prophets—it was not fated to be a match. The boat at length arrived at her [dace of destination, the association of the two loving ones was at an end, and they were obliged to separate. Whis pered adieus, with a soft entreaty from him, was answered by thrusting a card into his hand, and thus they parted, she to her father’s marble halls, and lie to the east, whither business imperatively called him. The hope of seeing heron his return filled his heart with jov. She made an astounding discovery shortly after her return home. A friend of hers who sported mustachios and a goatee, quizzed her unmercifully for losing her heart to a mechanic who was going to Washington to get a patent for anew plow. This was very pro voking to her. She protested that she thought he was a gentleman, or she never would have accepted his atten tions. Six weeks flew by, and the young mechanic was on his return home. His heart bounded with joy as he approach ed Cincinnati. Visions of beauty, grace and loveliness floated through his brain. Oh what pleasure to meet La Belle of the Queen City. Her charms had made a deep impression on hi> suscep tible heart. His foot touched the wharf, and away he flew to the man sion of his beloved. He was ushered in,and his name announced. The young lady floated into the room. Oh, how lovely! But what is the matter ? She does not know him, bestows no glance of recognition upon the face lit up with pleasure at seeing her again. “ You do not recollect me,” said he timidly, and mortified to think the im pression—if one he had made—was so evanescent. “ I do not, sir,” replied she, in a cold tone, and with an air of hauteur such as a tragedy queen affects. lie reminded her of their previous acquaintance on board the steamer. “Oh, yes, yes —a steamboat ac quaintance. Good morning, sir,” and with this answ’er she left the room. Her old papa had heard the name of his visitor, when announced, but thought his presence would be mal apropos at their first meeting, so the good-natured old gent remained in his room. He knew the real position and standing of his visitor, and hugged him self at the prospect of Julia marrying the Hon. Mr. , M.C., rich and dis tinguished. Mnstachios had humbug ged Julia. She, because he was a me chanic, had given him an unpardonable insult. The reader may fancy Julia’s morti fication, and her father’s rage, when they had a mutual explanation. San Juan de Nicaragua British Movements. — i’lie arrival of the Phila delphia, by the way of Kingston, Ja maica gives some interestig intelligence relating to the valuable port which the English call Greytown, but which the Christian world calls San Juan de Nic aragua. It seems that the influx ot Americans there lias excited alarm for the stability of English usurpation ot that place. The Kingston Journal states that Mr. Green, the so-called English Consul, but practical British dictator, at San J uan, has made a requisition on the Governor of Jamaica for an additional force to march to her Britannic Majes ty’s brig Persian and the schooner Ber muda, which have hitherto been station ed at the port of San Juan. The Inde fatigable, of fifty guns, has been dis patched to meet any possible emer gency. The /orna/significantly adds, “there really must be something ex pected in that quarter to require the presence of a Ligate and two othei vessels of war at Greytown. The truth is, remarks the N. lh T ’ all , Great Britain, under the busy ad ministration ofthe meddlesome Palmer ston, does not intend, and never did, to give up San J uan ; and the secret ot the present formidable movement L to overawe the Americans who are pour ing into Nicaragua through this same port. The whole project confirms the statements and opinions ol our Charge, Mr. Squire, as set down in his letter to the Hon. Mr. Foote, published by 115 on Friday last. England, as usual, un der Palmerston, is playing false. l ie Clayton and Bulwer treaty isa humbug; and our government should order, at once, two or three vessels of “at to San Juan, to protect our interests aim our citizens. It is a lact disgrace u to us as a nation, that no Anieiieun government vessel ever touched t u re , although our trade is greater than t of any nation at that port, and teni° our merchants vessels have been m t