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VOLUME I.
SELE CT E P POET RY *
THE PRINTER S HOUR OF PEACE.
Know ye the printer’s hour rs peace?
Know ye an hour more fraught with joy
r fhan ever felt the maid of Greece,
When kissed by Venus’ am’rous boy ?
His not when round the mazy case,
Ilis nimble fingers kiss the types ;
Nor is it when, with lengthened taco,
The sturdy devil’s tail he giipes.
His not. when news of direful note
His columns all with minion fill;
His not when brother printers quote
Kfi’usions of his stump-worn quill.
’Tis not when in Miss Fancy’s glass
Long advertisements meet liis eye,
And seem to whisper as they pass,
“ We’ll grace your columns by-und-by.”
No —reader—do —the Printer’s hour,
Ilis hour of real sweet repose,
Is not when by some magic power
ILs list of patrons daily grows.
But, oh! ’tis when the weather’s clear,’
Or clad in rain, or hail, or vapor,
lie hears in accents soft and dear—
“l’ve come to pay you for the pArKR.”
S£ii E C3 T ANARUS: ■£ Aiim s ,
THE TWO CLERKS.
We preface the following extract from a tale
in the June number ot the Metropolitan Magazine ,
with observing that Matlamoiselle Lange, a young
actress, is in love with Monsieur de Crosne, who
is imprisoned during the revolution, and doomed
to death. She disguises herself in male attire,
and obtains a situation as clerk in the office
through which all condemned must pass; and
there she meets an old actor, who has practised
precisely the same stratagem in order to save
some fellow comedians :
While these poor prisoners prepared to die
with eclat —the great business of the times —two
free citizens resolved at the same time, without
knowing it or having concerted together, to save
the prisoner of the Madelonettes: the one for love
of the comedians of the Theatre Francais, the
other for love of M. de Crosne. One of those
two generous citizens was an old actor, a fool, a
jicrissr , of the little Theatre Mareux ; he was
named Labussiere; the other was an actress of
the Comedie Francaise ; she was named Mada
moiselle Lange. The actor and the actress had
planned, on either side, with admirable courage,
address, and self-abnegation, a secret attack upon
Collot d’Herbois and Fouquier Tinville. Made
moiselle Lange was compelled, for the accom
plishment of her purpose, to lay aside her femi
nine character: she disguised herself in her best
manner; she despoiled herself of womanly gra
ces; she calumniated her feminine attractions;
she 1 ound the difficult means of reforming her-|
sell in the image of a man. And now in her
place appears one who runs, agitates anti strug
gles to obtain an under post in the office ol Crim
inal Papers. This office was the general em
porium ot all the records, of all the individual
notes, of all the denunciations, of all the man
dates of arrests that could serve as materials,
P r °ots, and pretexts, for the requisition of the
public accuser. One fine morning, the clerks ol
tbe office ot the Criminal Papers, beheld the arri
ot anew comrade, anew colleague, who al
,wod nothing to appear of the grace and beauty
<d Mdle. Lange. He called himself Jacques ;
jut he seemed so young, and was so little, that
me clerks immediately surnamed him Jacquot —
0 cr dian the next day, upon the order ot the
representatives Couthon and Callot, anew clerk,
anew patriot, was installed in the office of the
I nsoners, and Jacquot, to his great regret, found
umsclt seated close by a man who took immense
puns to look dismal: an honest man with whom
* no already acquainted—the actor Labussiere.
vidHi moinent > Labussiere and Jacquot di
ll M|() a dween them, unknown to each other, the
which* “m P er^s a sublime devotion; it was,
rp _j C .! 0 devoted conspirators should con-
* j u , luos t sentences, and save the most heads
\ IL .! s “°uldtind the best means of deceiving
if in,.' 1 ® 1 ail ? C °* die clerks and overlookers, while
nine U searc bed the drawers, selected doc
in U 1 j lc °d notes, withdrew denunciations —
tab U( | ’ the task of the revolutionary
Hin ul. Sentences disappeared so quickly, and
‘['■ M^! 10118 proceeded so slowly, that Frauquier
n °fficially complained ot the royalists
a aristocrats, of whom the office of the Pris
j| , CIS Was composed. At the time when the pub
\v, accu . scr expressed bis complaints in a sorne
,jut Molent reprimand, the office of the Pris
n-u 7 had alread y lost 800 sentences. Unfortu
j*f v ’ Labussiere-and Jacquot opposed and bin
-1,1 eacli other; they each wondered at the
th n^ e ZOad nailed the other to his desk at
10sc nours when the rest of the clerks were no
longer busy, and no one remained in the offices.
This distrust, natural, legitimate, inevitable, cost,
without doubt, the lives of many suspected, of
many innocent persons. More than once Jacquot
was tempted to ask of Labussiere, “ Whv do you
come to the Correspondence Office almost before
daylight? Why do you only cease to work at
night? Do you never sleep ? Do you never cat?
\\ hat is it that you lock up in your desk, careful
ly watching the eye of your neighbor? What
mean those little balls ot paper that you slip into
your pockets?” Labussiere might have asked
his comrade the same questions that Jacquot was
frequently tempted to ask him. One Sunday
morning, two men were seated upon the water
side, close to the Vigiers Baths: each of them
believing himself quite alone and invisible, drew
out of bis pocket some paper pellets, which he
dipped carelessly into the water, in order to sub
divide and reduce them. Each afterwards threw
them in morsels, in scraps, in crumbs, in pulp,
into the running stream. At last, however, Jac
quot, who was hidden by a rope full of linen,
hung out to dry in the sun-beam, perceiving his
comrade, bis suspicious friend of the Correspon
de nee Office. He was confounded; he trembled
—he feared, but he soon began to change liis mind.
An idea, a conjecture, a presentiment, a sweet
hope, restored all his courage ; he ran towards
Labussiere, who in his turn grew pale and trem
bled. “Citizen!” cried Jacquot, in a faltering
voice, “ I no longer know whether I wake or sleep
—in short, it appears to me that lamina de
lightful dream ; you are an honest man !” “ And a
good patriot!” stammered poor Labussiere, still
trembling. There was a moment of silence.—
“ Citizen ! ” resumed Jacquot, “ we perhaps are
the only two in France who dare to have opin
ions of our own. What do you say?” “Isay,”
murmured Labussiere, “ that my opinions are
known.” “ You speak falsely,” replied Jacquot;
“ and I dare you to deceive me! No, no, you are
known, Cod be thanked! You are the most
hypocritical patriot, the most faithless servant,
the most ungrateful #< clerk, the cleverest aristocrat
that I know. You are an admirable man!” The
end of this sentence, which commenced so badly,
struck to the very heart and conscience of La
bussiere. He reeled like a drunken man; he
laughed and wept; he looked at Jacquot with a
questioning air; at last he said, in a voice choked
with tears —“ If you approve of me, let us em
brace !—if you deceive me, strangle me!” And
the two friends embraced. “Let us see, have
you done a good morning’s work ? How many
heads?” asked Jacquot of Labussiere. “I have
saved fifty suspected persons this morning; and
amongst them some comrades, some very dear
friends, the actors of the Comedie Francaise.—
See, they are gone the last quarter of an hour,
under the appearance of little pieces of paper —
all along —along—along the river—along the
river !” Labussiere laughed and sung like a child.
“ Arc your pockets empty ?” said Jacquot—“have
you delivered to all }*our poor people the key of
the fields—l mistake, the kev of the waters, in
other words, their freedom?” “Yes!” “My
pockets are yet occupied, lhavc men women
and children. Come and help me to embark
them.” “To embark them ?” “ Upon the Seine
—in the hands of God !” The two clerks knelt
down again on the shores of the river, and Jac
quot, emptied his pockets; they crumbled down
the sentences of five or six families, and the run
ning stream carried away the red paper of Callot
d’Herbois. Labussiere said to Jacquot, when
they parted at the Point Neuf-—“Now that I have
saved, without doubt, my comrades of the Come
die Francaise, I am entirely at the disposal
of your comrades and friends. This morning,
I had resolved to resign my situation in the Cor
respondence Office , but I ask nothing bettci than
to keep my place, if you have need of an accom
plice to do good. “Listen,” replied Jacquot,
“ there is in the prison of the Madelonettes, along
with the actors of the Theatre Francais, an aris
tocrat whom the executioner has long menaced.-
I speak to you of M. de Crosne. I have had a
long search in the funeral emporium of the crim
inaf records ; I have not yet found the judgement
of the old lieutenant of the police. Well, 1 must
have, at any price, the life ol this man, to return
it to him. I have promised my conscience and
my heart to save M. de Crosne, and 1 have need
of thy courage, ol thy devotion, to pci loim m\
honest promise. All mankind exists for me in
one single name —M. de Crosne! M. dc Crosne.
M. de Crosne! Remember this person, remem
ber this name, and Cod protect us!” Labussiere
was happier than Jacquot; he had saved the
comedians, and Mademoiselle Lange had not
saved M. de Crosne. On die 27di of April, 1794,
M. de Crosne, just ns he awoke, perceived upon
the floor, in the middle of his chamber, a species
of projectile, that someone bad dexterously
thrown through the grating of a little window.
The prisoner took up the projectile, which was
SAVANNAH, GA., THURSDAY, JULY 26, 1849.
simply a copper coin ; he unfolded the morsel of
paper that enveloped the piece of Money, and
started as he read the following lines :—“God
has not willed my devotion ; you are goingto die!
Chance alone has come to my aid to spare you
an extreme sorrow; in seeking uselessly to save
you, I have saved your mother. Adieu Monseig
neur, until we meet again—l say, until we meet
again, because, doubtless, the other world is not
made for nothing. —Lange,”
A SARDINIAN ROBBER.
The May number of the Dublin University
contains a review of a work on the Island of Sar
dinia, from which wc cull an extract. Pcpe Bona,
the robber here spoken of, was accused of the
murder of a baronial law officer, and fled to the
mountains, where he remained five years, but re
turned to liis home on the accusation being dis
proved. The law-officers’ friends still cherished
ill feelings against him, and again charged him
with another crime, when he again fled to the
mountains, where he was surrounded with parti
sans and other fugitives, of whom he became the
leader. In IS3O lie sought an interview with the
Marquis de Boyl, who gives this account of it:
“ ‘Towards nine o’clock in the evening, as I
was finishing my dinner, a servant came and whis
pered to me that the celebrated Fepe Bona de
sired to have the honor of presenting himself to
me. The Minister of Justice and all the official
authorities of the village being at table with me,
1 ordered, in a low voice, which none could hear,
that he should be conducted to mvbed-room with
out passing through the room where we were di
ning. I then went there, and soon saw enter a
man of middle stature, about forty-seven years of
age, of*calm and majestic deportment. His hair
was grey, as was also his long beard ; liis eyes
were dark and liis face much wrinkled. Four
others were behind him, one of whom was a very
handsome young man of twenty-one, of slender
figure, with light beard and dark eyes. All were
armed from head to foot, each carrying a gun, a
bayonet, and a brace of pistfffs ; and each of them
held by a cord a dog of most ferocious aspect —a
thorough Cerberus. Pepe Bona, followed by liis
sons —for thus he calls his comrades—advanced
towards me, and they all kissed my hand with
the greatest courtesy imaginable. After apolo
gising for presenting himself thus armed before
me, be hoped I understood bis position, beingcon
tinually pursued by his enemies and the hand of
the law. He then proceeded to relate to me the
kind of life he had led for eleven years in the
mountains, and, ns he said, “from having been
calumniated by his enemies, aud tlic law authori
ties, without having killed any one”—alluding to
the prime and second affair of 1529. I was ex
tremely delighted with his conversation, and ques
tioned him on many subjects. He then begged me
lo ask pardon for him ; and I replied that he could
obtain it easily himself, as he already knew per
impunita —that is, by giving up another who had a
price fixed on his head. At these words my he
ro, drawing himself back a couple of steps and
grasping the handle of the bayonet, which was
placed diagonally in his waistband, said, “My
lord, Pope Bona has never betrayed any one ; if
the government does not choose to change the
sentence on me, and I am to buy my freedom by
treachery, I do not wish for that change; I prefer
a thousand times to reside in the mountains with
my sons and my honor, which I regard more than
my life*” At this answer I could no longer re
strain myself, and giving him my hand, he kissed
it most respectfully, bending his head. I com
mended the honorable sentiments by which he
was animated; and after having promised to do
all in my power to intercede with the government
for his pardon, on the other condition, I endeav
ored te reason with him, and make him see that
some day or other he might be wounded-and then
easily arrested. The four men who were with
him, and who had not hitherto spoken a word,
here interrupted me as I was proceeding, and all
of them simultaneously exclained, “ Inantio heus
a morriri totus conca a issu.” (Before that we
will all perish for liis head.) I then withdrew my
self from them for a little while, to take leave of
mv guests, who were waiting for me in the other
room, and ordered a supper for them, which they
accepted with much pleasure; and to avoid any
restraint on them, l retired to a little distance.
How I longed for the pencil ot \ andyke to paint
their animated countenances, their large dark eyes
turning from all sides to the door whenever it was
opened. The live dogs beside them, their eyes
fixed on their masters, watched greedily for the
pieces of food which were thrown to them from
time to time. My maitre (Vhotel sat at table with
the fuorusciti and had to taste everything first, ac
cording to their request, as the dragoni, the gov
ernment troops, might, as they hinted, have be
come acquainted with their arrival at the palace,
and it was necessary for them to be on their guard,
least they should “die the death of rats.” They’
gave inenn account of their mode of life, wan
dering about all night, resling and concealing
themselves during the day ; and, outcasts as they
were, on assembling in the morning, they go
through the rosario ; and courageous beyond all
belief, are yet most humble in the presence of
their chief, nor dare to raise their eyes when he
reproves them. Their principal amusement is
tiring at a target, which they do constantly and
with great dexterity. After supper they again
kissed my hand, and it being past midnight, and
every one in bed, 1 expressed a wish to accom
pany them to see them start on their horses. I
was perfectly astonished in meeting, nt a short
distance, twenty more of his band, w ho, acting
as a ridetfe, with their dogs, were guarding the se
curity of their chief and their companions.”
The application was not successful, and two
years afterwards another bandit —between whom
and Pope Bona there had been a quarrel—found
him asleep and shot him dead on the spot, lie is
said to have been loved as well as feared, and
during his whole outlawry, he never injured any
one who treated him fairly.
A French Mungo Park. —La Presse says : “ One
of those great enterprises which raise a name to
the rank of those of the Cooks and the La Pe
rouses is on the eve of accomplishment, with the
aid and under the protection of the government
of France. A traveller, who has already trav
ersed Egypt, Syria, Abissinia, Darfour, and Cor
dovan—who lias ascended the Nile as far ns the
first chain of Mountains of the moon—who has
visited Tranquebar, the five provinces of Arabia
and Arak Arabia —who, as interpreter, has been
attached to the mission which explored the ruins
of Ninevah, and lias also traveled in Persia, from
Mascata to Ispahan, and visited the Cape of Good
Hope, and the Island of St. Helena, now proposes
in a first voyage to traverse tho whole portion of
the African continent, extending from Algiers to
Senegal, passing through Timbuctoo ; to gain by
cutting the great African peninsular from north
to south, that is to say, from the Cape of Good
Hope to Algiers. The ‘ Wandering Jew 1 who
has conceived the idea of undertaking this fabu
lous journey, and to whom a residence of sixteen
years amongst the Arabs, (whose religion, cus
toms, costumes and manners lie lias adopted,)
oilers a prospect of success not possessed by Clap
perton, Mungo Parker, Denham, or tlie brothers
Lander, is a Col. Ducouret, known in the east by
the name of Hadji Abel-el Ilamid-Bey, which lie
assumed at the time of his pilgrimage to Mecca, a
piJg rimage never before accomplished by any
Frenchman. Impressed with the importance of
a journey which may yield such great results, po
litical, scientific and commercial, the govern
ment has hastened to lend its support to the en
terprise of M. Ducouret, and the three ministers
of public Instruction, Foreign Adairs, and Com
merce, have just concurred in its execution in a
mostellicacious manner. Whether it succeed or
fail, here is one of those missions winch we shall
always rejoice to see a government encouraging
and supporting. Hadji Abel-el Hamid-Bey esti
mated the duration of his perilous expedition at
from live to six years.”
How to Elevate the Taste. —Let the furniture and
utensils of the rich and poor (says Mr. Wornurn)
differ only in material, not in qualities or taste ; so
ihat the cottageof the peasant may, notwithstand
ing its frugalsimplicity, be as refined and as cheer
ful in its degree as the more gorgeous palace of
the prince. The potter’s clay is as capable of
displaying the forms of beauty as was ever the
marble of Parcs, or the famed bronze of Corinth
or Delos, or, as is now, the purest gold of Brazil.
The Egyptian potter, more than 3,000 years ago,
produced with his simple earth forms as beautiful
as all the wealth and art of Greece and Rome
combined have ever produced since. And what
is the fatality that hangs over us, that our poor
alone should be wholly debarred from the enjoy
ment of the beautiful ? If they can be reproached
as indifferent to, or incapable of appreciating
such things, \ghose fault is that? They cannot
appreciate what they have never seen. This is
not altogether the fault of the manufacturer. It
is to the indifference or ignorance of the design
ers that we must attribute it. Just or not just,
such is the inanufecturer’s complaint.
Female modesty. —Modesty in a young female is
the flower of a tender shrub, which is the promise
of excellent fruit. To destroy it is to destroy the
gem of a thousand virtues, to destroy the hope of
society, to commit an outrage against nature.
The air of the world is a burning breath that ev
ery day blasts this precious flower.
No doubt of it. —Some fair damsel commences
an advertisement in a New York paper,with—
‘ A young lady iv'tshes an engagement.’ We should
like to know the disengaged young lady w ho does
not wish an engagement!
NUMBER 21.