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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