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Denote to literature, Science, aiti il)c Soito of tttetnpevauce, (!Di)b etui) (Bcucval jlntclliciciicc. 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.