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Tol. V.
MU3CO&IES
By L. F. W. Andrews.
C?#fO#r •/ Randolph anil Broad slrtrh, ( up-Blain .)
COLUMBUS, Ua.
TERMS.
Tff RRK HOLLARS per anann—ia aihonee.
Tea ••pies fer $5, “ •• •
Tea far s‘2o ‘* ♦*
X-- n;ir for six mouth*. ••
nr All Letters must be free f except where
is enclosed. ‘
v'tft ff** ■*> ,K ** f^N
tj ♦
For the Mu scop ft Democrat.
Creation—A Paraphrase.
Tiler* is a pmver that made and guide*
The heart of man.
And every thing extant besides,
Whale er their plan :
It made the skies, and earth and trees,
And fulgent orbs of light;
Tb# dews, the rains and gentie breeze,
And sable hours of night.
From chaos sprang the heivens and earth,
When Providence did wiil their birth.
Jehovah said, “Let there be light,”
Behold it came,
’T wa* good—ll-“ parted it from night,
Day was its name.
And next lie made the firmament,
The waters to divide.
Erst on whose face his spirit went,
Kro they were unallied.
The name he gave the azure dome,
Was Heaven—llia holy spirit * home.
He ordered floods to coalesce;
And land had birth ;
The floods received the name of seas,
The other, earth.
The earth brought forth, ut hi* command,
All grapes, and herb* and trees ;
lie saw the works of his own hand
Did not his mind displease.
All, all brought forth as lie designed,
Needs, herbs, and fruit, alter their kind.
He fixed two lights, within the skies,
One lighteth dav;
The lesser one and stars to rise
When Sol's away :
Th* water* then with fish were teem'd,
The earth was the fowls’ place.
And nuin'rou* creatures, goodly deem'd,
Were scattered o’er it* lace :
lie, the*>. .viewed o'er t L* coiii-Ue.. Protst,
And taw that all ha made was good.
After hi* form, God made mankind
Foree r to share
Creation* of his hand and mind
All god and fair :
Thn, in *ix days, all things were made
Itv God, e'er he sought rest ;
Then of the seventh day he said,
“ Thou art of days ino?t blest.”
All, all was done by Him above,
And proves his wisdom, power and love. A JOT os. i
Palrick Hour).
BY WINSLOW TKACY.
•It i# th* min i tli-t make* the |>o!y rich;
AaH a* thi hi ii nr<4 thiMiicli the dai kt**t cloud*,
tio honor ‘pearoih in the mrnnrH habit*.’ ’*
Among those of our proud land who have
reared for themselves 0:1 tin* solid louimlhiion of
real merit, a fame which shall stund, a rnoiiu.
menl of glory, ‘amid I In* solitudes ofiimc.’ no
one has commenced lower and risen higher than
Patrick Henry. In claiming lor Mr. Henry
this proud station, I would not detract in the
least from the dearly-bought and well.deserved
fame ol his worthy compatriots; many of whose
uaines appear more conspicuous on the page
which records the great events of our country's
history. In the hearts of their countrymen, in
the thanks and plaudits of the millions who are
jet to come along the tracks of the future, to
enjoy those glorious privileges and civil liber
ties, there is glory and honor enough for them
all. I heir names have not been written in the
a&ud, that the first gale that sweeps along the
plain might bury them in oblivion. They have
been interwoven with the very fabric of our tree
government, and can be erased only when that
shall have crumbled and wasted away in the
vortex of political dissolution.
licfws;n rrf a Washington might lead a
brave people to victory; the wisdom of a Jes.
ferson direct the decisions of sage legislators ;
but It required the eloquence nt a Henry to a
roise that feeling of pitriotistn which prompted
the heroes of Seventy-sis to that soul.trying
struggle for freedom. And when the American
people cease to do honor to his name, we shall
behold them in chains—weeping at the tomb
stone of liberty. He was the first American
legislator who opposed the odious and obnox
fous stamp act. Whe the Continental Congress
bad assembled, he first dared to break through
the gloomy cloud of fearful anxiety which over
hung that venerable body, and portrayed with
nnequaled skill the oppression of the colonial
wrongs. He first exclaimed, the ‘war is ine.
enable ; let it come.’ He proposed and head
ed the first military movements in his own na
tive State, in support of the cause of independ
ence. He was the first Republican Governor
es the stato of Virginia. Then may we not
agree with America’s great statesman, in say.
ing, ‘Mr. Henry certainly gave the first impulse
to the ball of the revolution V That first impulse
was given in a speech by Mr. Henry, in the
House of Burgesses of \ irginia, in which the
character of the King, for the first time in
America, was publicly arraigned and denoun
ced. It was during this speech that he gave
utterance to that memorable sentence, which
created against him, from the minions of an mr
library Prince, the cry of Treason! He said,
•Csesar had his Brutus, Charles 1. his Cromwell,
and George 111. may profit by their exantplo.’
A JOURNAL OF AGRICULTURE, NEWS, POLITICS & MISCELLANY
Suli was the power wielded by Patrick Hen
ry ; and never was a power wielded in a better
cause, and with better success. Mis genius
was an iccuralo mirror of the human heart, and
reflected in all its protean-like shapes andclia.
me lion hue*, which enable him to spring the
chord appropiiatc to the occasion, and always
command the feelings of his hearers. Ilia el
oquence came from the full fountain of his un
derstanding. and flowed in a channel far *upe.
rior to (lie splendid decoration* of art, becauie
it was nature’s own.
At times, like tbo limpid stream, it pearled
along the grassy dale, murmuring in tone* of
• ilvery sweetness; then, in comic playfulness,
dashing down some little steep; then swelling
into a broad stream, winding and rolling on ward
through beautiful woodlands anJ verdant land,
scapes, enriched by the choicest evergreens of
fancy, tinctured by the various colorings of pas
sion, then making many circumlocutions, unob
structed. in the extensive field of argument
then in matchless grandeur, like the roaring
cataract, with boundless force, plunging down n
huge precipice, overhung with high rocks and
craggy mountains, or the deep torrent, rivilt and
irresislild", overwhelming opposition .n the
depths of ils waters. He did not resemble the
I eccentric meteor, w hich shoot* along the sky,
dazzles and sinks below the horizon, but ex
citing our wondering curiosity. Nor did he re
semble the silvery moon, effulgent with borrow,
ed light ; but like the sun, be shone with his
own original lustre—like that emblem of stipe.
rior greatness, lie ever presented the same ap
pearance. He was always the ardent lover of
liberty—the patriot, the philanthropist, and the
orator. He rose with the splendor of the morn
ing sun, illuminated an ever glorious Hay, and
set amid the grandeur of moral sublimity.
His motives pure—hi* objects noble—bis
achievements great—be won Liberty for hi*
countrymen, and immortality for himself.
His last appearance in public, forms an anec
dote which, a* related by hi* biographer, is il
lustrative oftbe whole man. Thinking his coun
try needed bis services as a legislator, he offer
ed himself as a candidate in his county. As he
appeared to his constituents on the morning oftbe
election, the people thronged about him in mas*,
and gazed upon him with that feeling of awe
and reverence with which the great and noble
benefactor* of mankind nre ever beheld.
A clergyman present, raising hi< voice in re
proof against the people, said. *W’hy do you fol
low .Mr. Henry about with so much adoration
lie is not a god, hut a man V
Mr. Henry replied with a pathos which suf
fused all to tears who heard him. ‘No, no, in
deed, my friend, 1 am not a god, lint a poor
worm of the, dust, as fleeting and unsubstantial
as the shadow of the cloud that flout* over your
field— it disappears, and it is remembered no
more, for ever.’
A Goon Irish Anecdote. —Some years since
when the beautiful painting of Adam and Eve j
was exhibited in Ireland, it became the chief
topic of conversation. Finally a poor ragged |
illiterate peasant went to see it. The. light !
was so arranged as to reflect on the picture, I
and leave ihe spectator in comparative darkness. ;
The peasant, as he entered the room to see his
first parents, was struck with so much astonish-!
rnent that fie remained speechless for some rno. j
meats. He stood like a statue, and as though
his feet were incorporated with the oaken floor
of the room. At last, with an effort he turned j
to an acquaintance and said, ‘Barney, I’ll niveri
say another word again Adam in all my life for
if I had been in the garden, 1 would have eat j
every apple ill it, tor the sake of such a lovely j
craturas Eve.’ It is needless to add that this
was received with roars of laughter.
‘With many readers, brilliancy ofstyle pass. 1
es for affluence of thought ; they inistuke hut- ‘
tercups in the grass for immeasurable gold ,
mines under ground.’
“A* LITTLE OOVSKMtKXT AS POSSIBLE ; THAT LITTLB EMANATING FUOM AND CONTROLLED BT THE PEOPLE, AND UNIFORM IN ITS APPLICATION TO ALL.”
Patrick Henry is a prominent example that
Greek and Latin alone do not form the man ;
that true greatness is native in the man, not de.
pendent upon external conditions. At twelve
years of age ho was an idle fishing boy—at (if.
teen a clerk in a counting house—at twenty
honestly delving the dusty earth with his own
hands to olrtnin a livelihood—at twenty.four a
! bankrupt merchant—at twenty.seven suddenly
; bursting from obscurity into a rich popularity,
I by a hold, golde, anJhsfoiiishing display ofjhose
■ mammoth powers of mind, which had so long
remained shrouded in darkness by the mantle
of lbs own sublime contemplation—at forty the
first orator in America, and, in the language of
Thomas Jeflerson, ‘the greatest orutor that ev.
er lived.’ if
There is something in genuine eloquence at
once so supremely grand and majestic, as to
constrain u* to confess it the summit of human
dignity. The artist may please the eye, the
musician the ear, the port the iinnginatirfand
the inspjring power of song, and the sweet me!-
ody of the vocal harp, attuned in harmonied
unison, may warble forth their loftiest strains,
and gratify for a while the finer feelings of our
nature ; hut it ia left to the orator to combine
nil ihese supereuiinent powers in thought, word
and action ; for the orator to strike all the pleas,
lire.giving chords of our being’s nature, and j
make them vibrate symphonies of delight to the
human heart.
The cunning of logic may convince the un
derstanding. Eloquence doe* more. It un- !
lock* the human heart, unhinges obstinacy,
hurls down superstition, nrouses to real and on. I
gaged activity, elevates, charms, and enraptures
ail the ennobling energies, sways the judge
ment, ‘and shakes the human soul.’
COIaIIMBUS, Georgia, Thursday Evening, October 11, 1549.
Tins gentlemen has a lirgi hul s > n unyl |
with his body, a ml one peculiarly shaped, which
indicates that he has a comprehensive mind,
and a marked character. The conditions o!
his body nre favorable to great activity and en
ergy, having more action than strength and a.
bility to endure. He cannot contentedly keep
still, and is too apt to overdo. The motive and
mental temperaments are large, while the vital
is only average.
His phrenological developcments are dis
tinctly manifested, some of the organs being
large, while others are average. Most of them
however, are large which gives force to his
character.
//is social qualities nre all strong ; hence lie
i* a war|f>.j>e£rted, social, easily makes (puvnds,
. and is too liable to he influenced by them. //
doe* not for*ke old lor new friends ; and liis
’ love and connubial feelings are strong and ae.
; tive, making him more than commonly Rind to
• women and a most devoted and warm-hearted
husband. Love ofcbildren is very large, more so
| than is usual for a man. lie is passionately
I fond of them, and enjoys their society much.—
! Children are also perfectly at home m liis socie.
j ty. Asa parent, he is liable to he indulgent,
i and takes every possible means to improve and
, secure the happiness ofhis children.
Inhaliilivcness is large, and strongly attach
es him to home—to one place of residence and
j of business ; and he always changes with reluc
tance. Continuity is moderate, preferring vari.
ety of thoughts and feeling, with more intensiu
than connectedness. Combativeness is full,
and Destructiveness large; these qualities, join,
ed with his great activity and ardent tempera,
ment, furnish him with an unusual degree of
eneigy, force of character, and desire to do his
business effectually. He is capable ol strong
prejudices, yet could not readily yield to feelings
of revenge, because of the restraining influen
ces of other faculties, //is Destructiveness
takes a business turn.
Alimentiveness is naturally strong, but his
digestion is weak, owing to in-door business,
sedentary habits, and too much mental labor.—
Desire for gain and the feeling of economy are
fairly developed, without producing undue econ
omy or selfishness ; hut whether he is acq tir
ing or not, he must he doing something. Score,
tivenes* is rather moderate. He is candid and
holiest spoken, and would find it difficult to mis.
state things or deceive ; is at times 100 liable to
expose his feelings and thoughts ; hut Cautious,
ness being large, he is careful, watchful, pm
dent, disposed to provide against dangera-svi
accidents ; always feels his way, and is sure
he is right before he ventures much. This lac
idly naturally acts with his Causality, dispos
ing him both to know and feel that he is sure
and safe.
Approbativeness is rather large ; Self-Es.
teem large ; and Firmness very large ; which
dispose him to please others, excel, he polite
and afl'ahle, yet more disposed to act indepen
dently of others, he his own man and guide, re
ly on himself, form his own character, and,
more still, to hold on to liis purposes and plans,
and persevere till he has gained his end. He
is remarkably fumand persevering, also steady
and unyielding, especially in matters of justice.
He is also self-possessed in times of excitement
and danger. Benevolence and conscience arc
his two strongest moral organs, and they have
a distinctly modifying influence on liis whole
character. He. is particularly sensitive a* to
duty, obligation, and justice. Conscience being I
very active, renders him scrupulously just and j
Gents from Longfellow.
‘Morality without religion is only a kind of
dead reckoning—an endeavor to find our place ‘
on a cloudy sea by measuring the distance we
have run, but without any observation of the
heavenly bodies.’
‘Many readers judge ofthe power of a bonk
by the shock it gives their feelings—as some I
savage tribes determine the power of muskets t
by their recoil ; that lining considered the best I
which fairly prostrates the purchaser.’
From the American Phrenological Journal.
Phrcnologiral Character of Fordycc llitcbcock.
11V I— X. FOWLKIt.
>
upright in his dealings, //ope and Veneration
are full, and their influence firm hut not con.
trolling. He is suflicicntly sanguine to he
cheerful and generally contented with the pre
sent, without being over-enthusiastic, or lacking
in hope and sense oft he future. He has enough I
Veneration to produce respect and deference, j
with a hill degree of the feeling of devotion ; |
yet this faculty does not prevail in influence.— i
Benevolence is large and active, and modifies |
his whole chnractcr ; his feelings soon become
enlisted, and his sympathies are easily excited,
amounting at times almost to an excess which
the judgment sometimes finds it difficult to
control. It leads him to he kind to otl -s, ten
der in his treatment oftlie dependent, tthd plia
ble in his feeling*. Cotistructiveuess and Imi.
talion are large, tie has versatility of talent,
is quite ingenious, good at contriving, very fond
of the arts, and might excel in some mechani
cal department, or in original planning and in.
venlion. He is decidedly fond of witnessing
and contemplating the grand, vast, extended,
and comprehensive, also enjoys the beautiful
and perfect, yet not at the expense of utility.—
Mirlhlulness is large—as seen in the cut—is a
constant companion, and acts abundantly with
all other faculties, and aids greatly in making
friends and entertaining them. Language not
being large, he cannot make fun equal to his
perception of if, yet he enjoys it much.
His intellectual faculties are distinctly mark
ed. 1 hose giving thought, originality, ability
to plan,devise ways and means, and judge of
cause and efiocl, are decidedly prominent, and
have a controlling influence in tlie intellect.—
lie. has the rare combination of prudence and
judgment united. His plans are well digested
and understood before acting upon them. Dif
ficult and most complicated subjects arc more
easily disposed of by him than trifling matters.
He is naturally more philosophical than scien
tific, more thoughtful than observing, and more
sound and sensible than showy. Form, Order,
Calculation, and Locality, among the percep-
! tive faculties, are large. lie is a good judge
! of shape and outline, is systematic, particular
in the arrangement of matter, very much an
i noyed if things arc leianged, a quick accoun
tant and book-keeper, has good general know),
edge of localities and the whereabouts of objects
and is fond of studying the qualities of articles
and the adaptation of one thing to another; but
perceptions oftlie laws of gravity, of colors, of
memory, of the passing news of the day, of suc
cession of time, and names, and words, are in
ferior qualities of in imi. as their respective or.
gans are inferior in size. Language is only
average, as seen in the cut—the oyo not projec
ting. He is not free, easy, and copious in the
use of language, cannot find words to express
his ideas, and can think and write ittuch better
than speak.
Seldom do we have occasion to describe a
character where there are. so many strong points
and distinct traits. The rut ia a feilhful like, j
ness and true representative of the outline ol ;
his head. It is high, broad on the. top and in 1
the frontal lobe. He has the elements of a i
high-toned intellectual man : and having very
active Benevolence, .Mill lifu I ness. Approbation,
ness, and the sociul faculties joined with the
above qualities, lie is particularly adapted to a .
public sphere, requiring him to make friends,
keep them, secure their confidence, and enter
tain them. All who knew him as manager of
the American Museum of this city, will hear
testimony to the above qualities ; and in his new
sphere of a merchant he hid* fair to be equally
succesful.
‘The motives and purposes of authors are not
always so pure and high, as in the enthusiasm
of youth we sometimes imagine. To many the
trumpet of fame is nothing but a tin horn to call
them home, like laborers from the field, at din
ner-time, and they think themselves lucky to
get tho dinner.’
‘As no saint can be canonized until the Dev.
il’s Advocate has exposed all Ids evil deeds,
and showed why he should not he made u saint
so no poet can tko hia station among the gods
until the critics have said all that can be said a
gainst him.’
‘Critics are sentinels in the grand army of
letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers
and reviews, to challenge every new author.’
‘The country is lyric—the town dramatic.—
When mingled, they make the most perfect tnu-
I sical drama.’
‘The natural alone is permanent. Fantas.
| tic idols may he worshipped Ibr a while ; hut at
. length they me overturn continual and
j silent progress of Tintn. as the grim statues of
| Copan have, been pushed from their pedestals
by the growth of forest.trees whose seeds were
sown in the ruined walls.’
•The every-day cares and duties, which men
call drudgery, are the weights and counterpoi
ses of the clock of time, giving its pendulum a
true vibration, and its hands a regular motion ;
and when they cease to hang upon the wheels,
the pendulum no longer swings, the hands no
longer move, the clock stands still.’
‘The same object, seen from the three differ
ent points of view—the Past, the Present, and
the Future—often exhibit three different laces
to us ; like those sign boards over shop doors,
which represent the face of a lion as we ap
proach, of a man when we are in front, and of
an a** when we have passed.’
‘ln character, in manners, in style, in all
things, the supreme excellence is simplicity.’
‘Some critics have the habit of rowing up the j
Heliconian rivers with their backs turned, so
ns to see the landscape precisely as the poet j
did not see it. Others see faults ill a hook i
much larger than the hook itself ; as Sancho
Pauza, with his eyes blinded, beheld from his
wooden horse the earth no larger than a grain |
of mustard-seed, and the men and women on it j
as large as hazel-nuts.’
‘Like an inundation oftlie Indus is the course
of Time. We look for the homes of our child
hood, they are gone; for the friends of our child
hood, they are gone. The loves and animosi
ties of youth, where are they ? Swept away
like the camps that had been pitched in the san
dy lied of the river.’
‘The rays of happiness, like those oflight, are
coloress when unbroken.’
‘Men of genius are often dull and inert in so
ciety ; a* the hisL'i.e” zvJjrz:dc-sci’A-Vi
to earth, is only a stone.’
The Empty Cradle.
“The mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love ;
She knew she’d find them all again
In the fields of light above.”
I The death of a little child is to the mother’ll
j heart like a dew on a plant from which a hud
| has perished. The plant lifts up its head in
freshened greenness to the morning light ; so
the mother’s soul gathers from the dark sorrow
through which she lias passed, a fresh bright,
ruing of her heavenly hopes.
As she bends over the empty cradle, and in fan
cy brings her sweet infant before her, a ray of
divine light is on the cherub face. It is her son
! still, hut with the seal ol immortality on his
| brow. She feels that heaven was the only ut
j mosphere where her precious flower could un
’ fold without spot or blemish, and she would not
j recall the lost. But the anniversary ofhis de
departure seems to bring his spiritual presence
near her. She indulges in that tender grid
which soothes, like an opiate in pain, all her pas
! sages and cares of life. The world to her is
no longer with human love and hope—in the
future, so glorious with heavenly love and joy.
She has treasures of happiness which the wot Id
ly, nnchastened heart never conceived.
The bright fresh flowers with which she has
decorated her room, the apartment where her
infant died, are emblems of the far brighter
tiopes now dawning on her day dream. She
thinks of the glory and beauty of the New Jeru
salem, where the little foot will never find a
thorn among the flowers to render a shoe ne
cessary. Nor will a pillow he wanting for the
dear head reposing on the breast of the kind
Savior. And she knows her infant is there, in
that world of eternal bliss. She lias marked
one passage in that Book—to her the World of
Life—now lying closed oil the toilette table, |
which she daily reads— ‘ Suffer little children,
and forbid them not, to come unto me ; for of
such is the kingdom of heaven.’
A Wife in Tn ovule. —‘Pray tell mo, my dear
what is the cause of those tears V
‘Oh, such a disgrace !’
‘Whal—what is it, my dear ? Do not keep
me in suspense.’
‘Why, I have opened one of your letters, sup
posing it addressed to myself. Certainly it look
ed more like Mrs. than Mr.’
‘is that all ? W hat harm can there he in a
wife’s opening her husband’s letters V
‘No harm in the thing itself. But thecontents!
Such a disgrace !’
‘What, has any one dared to write me a letter
unfit to lie read by my wile ?’
‘Oh, no. It is couched in the most chaste and
gentlemanly language. But the contents! the;
contents !’
Here the wife buried her face in her handker.
chiefand commenced sobbing aloud, while the
husband engerlv caught up the letter and com-’
mencod reading the epistle that had been the
means of nearly breaking his wife’s heart. //
t rasa bit!from the printer for nine years’ sub
scription!—Sandy Hill llerald.
To preserve flowers. —Ladies who wish
to preserve flowers uro recommended to try
nitrate of soda. As much as can be held be.
tween the thumb and linger plaeed in the n.
ter with the flowers will preserve them fresh, it
is said, for a a fortnight.
Nnvi:n cross a Buidub till you comb to
it-—‘Mover cross a bridge till you come to it !’
was the counsel usually given by a patriarch in
ilie ministry to troubled and over-earcful Chris,
bans. Are you troubled about the future?——
Do you see difficulties rising in Alpine range
along your path ? Are you alarmed at the state
ol your business—at the uncertainties hanging
over your lile—at the dubious prospects in re.
serve for your children—at the gloomy contin
gencies which fancy sketches and invests with
a a>rt of-itfn.tike reality—at the woes which
i hang over the cause of the Redeemer, or at any
other earthly evil ? Do not cross the, bridge un
til you come to it. Perhaps you will never
have occasion to cross it ; and if you do you
may find that a timid imagination has overrated
greatly the toil to be undergone, or has under
rated the power of that grace which can lighten
the Christian's every labor. In approaching
the Notch of the V\ hite Mountains from one di
rection, the traveler finds himself in the midst
jot conical hills, which seem to surround him
las lie advances and forbid further progress.
lie can see but a short distance along his wind
! big road ; it seems as if his journey must stop
abruptly at the base of these barriers. He be
gins to think ol turning back his horse, to es
cape from hopeless enclosure among impassa
ble barriers. But Jet him advance, and he will
litid that the road curves around the frowning
hills before him, and leads him into other and
still other straits, from which he finds escape
simply by advancing. Every new discovery of
a passage around the obstruction of his path
tea Acs to hope in the practicability of his road,
lie cannot see far ahead at any time ; hut a
passage discovers itself as he advances. He is
neither required to turn back, nor to scale the
steep sides of towering hills. His road winds
a mug, preserving for miles almost an exact lev
el. He finds that nothing is gained by cross
ing a bridge before he comes to il / Such is of
ten the journey of life. How much of its toil
some ruggedness would be relieved by careful
attention ti> the above admonition ! Arcrr cross
a bridge till you come to it ! Or, to express the
same counsel in n form that does not involve
the charge of Hibernicism, ‘Be careful of noth
ing; but i:i everything, by piayer and supplies
lion, with thanksgiving, let your requests bo
made known unto Ood, and the pe...J.„
‘which passeth nil nnrferstifhding/ shall keep
( gsri iaon) your lienrts and minds through Christ
Jesus.’— lndependent.
Electioneering laerdoic.
I lie M irksville Prairie Star is responsible
lor tiie following anecdote of ||ti. John H.
liarmanson, the democratic candidate for re-e
----lection to Congress from the Third District in
Louisiana:
It is generally conceded that our hero is a
! clever adept in the science of electioneering
in fact, he has but few equals for tact and in
dustry in that branch ofhis education, which
he I,as by no means neglected ; and to notice
l him particularly on public occasions, a person
| would suppose be never studied ‘anything else.’
During the last canvass for (’engross, Mr,
Marmansnn made a tour through the I’ino
Woods ol Catahoula, and stopped all night at an
old mans house, who sometimes, in a ‘small
way,’ manufactured Spanish saddletrees, and
who had a son about twelve years of age.-
Mr.JH larmatison very soon, as a matter of
course, convinced the old man that he was his
! particular friend, and that he had heard‘people
talk so much in his praise, for his honesty and
goodness, that he had come all the way from
Point Coupee to see him, and get acquainted.’
(n the meantime, the old man was not slow in
coming to the conclusion that iiarmaason him
self was ‘some pumpkins,’ and an all-fired smart
talker ; and what he says about my son Dick’s
going to be a ‘slinguished man is pirty nigh
true, for no longer ago an a three weeks, he
told bully Jack Travis, plump to his face, that
he was a grand rascal !!’ Ilarrnanson poured
it on thick, and told him just send Dick to Mr.
Digg’s Academy, or to Alexandria to lam Latin
and he would some day go to Congress as suro
as‘falling off a log.’ Altera short time, the
old man and old ’oman concluded as Mr. Har
mnuson ‘know’d all about things, they would
scrape up a little, and start Dick ofl'to Rapides
to lain Latin.’ And so they did. After some
month or two the young prodigy returned home
to report progress. During one cold night in
December, before a grateful lire of pine-knots,
etc. the following occurred :
‘Well Dick, nty son,’ said the old man, ‘how
did you eome out Inrnin Latin?’
‘Mighty well,daddy ; 1 larnt a heap o’ Latin!’
answered Dick.
•Now let’s hear ye talk some Latin for m
and yer old mother,’
This put Dick somewhat to his trumps, but fi.
naliy straightening up, after a pause, he com
menced :
‘Onc-num moon-urn slune-wn night-um fall
um pi nr-inn tore-urn shirt-urn.’
The old lady exclaimed, with uplifted eye”
‘mv stars !’
The old man. with a knowinsyg^P^^W
ting the old lady on the , !* n
, • , , ’ r exulting!*- ex
elnimeu, *Ah w i fe. , . * ’
rr. . “Pon it. there’s anoth
or llan, “JiH<and no mistake !’
j., Vt has been decided liy one of the high *OOIO.
siastical courts in England, that the Church of
England (Episcopal) docs authoritatively teach
I ’l* regeneration of infanta in and by the eta
l fient of baptism, when lawfully administered.
| In Stewart’s dry goods palace, New York,
there are 1(10 cloiksVmployed— la about 850,.
I 000 pet annum for clerk hire.
Wo. 41.
