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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.