Newspaper Page Text
18^2.]
the French people, has been the subject
of histories, and plays, and poems, and
novels innumerable, and has had pictures
and statues by the score executed in her
honour. It is the descendant of one of
her brothers, a gentleman named Huldat
now living at Nancy, who has brought to
light the fact that the heroine has never
) et been called by her right name; and
it is a little publication es his eatitled
“Examine Critique de I’Histoire de Jean
ne Dare,” which has just fallen into our
hands, that has called our attention to the
subject. The proofs that Mr. 11 allet cites
are to our mind perfectly clear. Amongst
them is the parent by which King Charles
VII. conferred nobility on Joan’s family ;
and in this document the name is written
Dare. In fact, if the correct way of wri
tiag it had at that time been d’Arc, the
patent would not have been required at
all, as the family would have been already
noble. Mr. Haldatshows too very clearly
that Joan’s father was named Jaques
Dare, that he was a common labourer,
and that he originally belonged to the
village of Septfond. M. Ilaldat concludes
by saying, “1 hope that the name will be
henceforth written Dare, and that the
heroine will be left in undisputed posses
sion of her plebian origin.” We fear,
hower, that the wish w ill not be regarded.
However plain an error may be proved
to be, it becomes so venerable by four
centuries’duration, that it is almost cer
taiu to last forever.
[Christian Advocate.
A MEXICAN FUNERAL.
A recent letter from Acapulco thus
describes the funeral of two sisters —
beautiful girls of eighteen and twenty
years. They were carried to the grave
in the evening, side by side, in an open
funeral car, in elegant dresses which they
had made with their own hands for the
Spanish ball, which was to have taken
place on the evening of their burial.
The car in w hich the corpses lay was
splendidly decorated—rising above the
heads of each a beatiful gilded crown and
at their feet gilded ornamental work rep
resenting two half moons. In their hands
w hieh were locked together in the attitude
of prayer, they had bouquets of flowers;
and their brows were encircled with
wreaths of roses. The faces of the young
girls were uncovered; but partly con
cealing their magnificent dresses, was
thrown over them a richly worked lace
veil, covered most completely with offer
ings of flowers, w hile their tiny feet, en
cased in plum coloured silk stockings and
satin-laced shoes, were slightly exposed
to view. The car was borne on the
shoulders of twelve negroes; following
them, six others, with the top of the bu
rial case, and following the latter, still
six others, with a table, upon which the
car was set down in the street at inter-
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
vals. A band of music, playing a lively
tune, preceded the cortege , and almost the
whole city saw r them placed in the tomb,
and chaunted over them the solemn buri
al service of the Catholic church.
A LAND OF CONTRARIES.
If there be a land on the face of the
earth which to an Englishman’s eye must
appear a land of contraries, as compared
with his own country, Australia is surely
that land. It is our literal antipodes.
When it is day with them it is night with
us; and when we are all at work, they are
all in the hands of‘Murphy.’ When they
have their longest day, we have our short
est; and when it is summer with them it
is winter with us. Their Mayday is in
autumn and while our trees are buddim>-
theirs are in the sere and yellow leaf.
They begin to wear their Summer dresses
in October, and commence putting on
their top-coats and pea jackets in June.
Their Christmas is in summer; and when
ino.-quitoes are flying about and the sun’s
heat is severe, the Yule log, as may be
easily imagined, is somewhat superfluous
and to dance Sir Roger de Coveriy at
Christmas, with the thermometer stand
ing 95 in the shade. Think of that,
Shade of Christmas ! W ithout clear frost
Christmas in England is nothing; but
Christmas with musquitoes and hot
winds ! snap dragon in the dog-days ! hot
spiced claret in the height of summer!
The climates, winds and seasons in Aus
tralia are all reversed. The north winds
does not blow cold, as with us, but hot
like sirocco. The south wind—
The sweet south,
That-breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odor—
in Australia brings rain, sleet and hail.
The sun course overhead in the North,
and not in the South—in the north are
the tropics, in the south the polar regions.
Australian poets have to reverse their to
pics and instead of singing of
Old January, wrapped well
In many weeds to keep the cold away,
they sing in the language of an Austra
lian bard,
When December’s sultry breeze
Scarce stirs a leaf on yonder trees !
Soils, streams, vegetables and animals
are equally puzzling in Australia. The
richest soils are often found on the tops
of the hills. The valleys are cold, the
hill tops warm. Rivers flow from the
neighbourhood of the coast into the inte
rior, where they become lost. Trees do
not shed their leaves, but only their bark;
and the most of them in Australia afford
no shade. The cherries grow with their
stones outside. The birds don’t sing, the
dogs don’t bark, the bees don’t sing, the
flower’s don’t smell. The mole (orni
thoryncus,) is a fish, and the kangaroo
carries its young in a nest attached to its
body. Australian swans are black and
Australian eagles are white. Cuckoos
coo in the night, the owl hoots in the day
time, and the Australian jackass is a
bird ! But above all things, the work
ing people are not poor. That is, per
haps, the crowning and satisfactory con
trariety of all. —Banner of the Union.
THE MOTHER OF CROMWELL.
An interesting person, indeed, was the
mother of Cromwell; a woman with the
glorious faculty of self-help, when other
assistance failed her; ready for the de
mands of fortune in the extremest adverse
time; of spirit and energy equal to her
mildness and patience; u'ho, with the la
bour of her own hands, gave dowers t<>
live daughters, sufficient to marry them
into families as honorable, but more
wealthy than their own; whose single
pride was honesty, and whose paS'ion
love; who preserved in the gorgeou>
palace at Whitehall, the simple tastes
that distinguished mi the old brewery at
Huntingdon; whose only care, amid all
her splendours, was fur the safety of hei
beloved son in his dangerous eminence ;
dually, when her care had outworn her
strength, according with her whoie mo
desty and tender history, she implored a
simple burial in some country church
yard, rather than the ill-suited trapping
of state and ceremony, wherewith sin
feared, and with reason, too, that his
Highness, the Lord Protector of Eng
land, would have earned her to some royal
tomb.
There is a portrait of her at Hindehild
brook, which, if it were possible, would
increasp the interest she inspires, and the
respect she Claims. The mouth, so small
and sweet, yet full and tirm as the mouth
of a hero; the large and melancholy
eyes, the light, pretty hair, the exptes
sion of quiet affectionateness suffused
over her face, which is so modestly de
veloped in a satin hood, the simple beau
ty of the velvet cardinal she wears, and
the richness of the small jewel that clasps
it, seems to present before the gazer hei
living and breathing character.
[Forrester's Statesmen of England
“Dear mother,” said a delicate little
girl, “I have broken your china vase.”
“Well, you are a naughty, careless,
troublesome little thing, always in mis
chief; go un stairs till 1 send for you.”
An this Was a Christian mother’s an
swer to the tearful little culprit, who had
struggled with and conquered temptation
to tell a falsehood to screen the fault.
With disappointed, disheartened look, the
child obeyed; and at that moment was
crushed in her little heart the sweet flower
of truth, perhaps never again to be re
vived to life. Oh, what were a thousand
thousand vases in comparison.
[East Boston hedger.
287