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84 LITERARY. WILLIAM W. MANN, Editor. The Southern Field and Fireside IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. TERMS—I4.OO a year, invariably in advance. All Postmasters are authorized agents. SATURDAY AUGUST 6,1559. BACK NUMBERS. Persons subscribing to the F itld end Fireside can be supplied with all the back numbers. —A#*- — — TERMS TO NEWS-DEALERS. This paper is mailed to news-dealers at the rate of two dollars and fifty cents per one hundred copies. - TERMS OF ADVERTISING. For each insertion of ten lines or less, one dollar; and for over ten lines, at the rate of ten cent* per line. -^^•••-♦♦♦--<1^^— TRAVELLING AGENTS. In reply to numerous applications on the subject, the Proprietor of the Southern Field and Firesule takes this method of announcing that he doe* not desire to make any more engagements of that kind. ——♦»» • - NOTICE TO SUBSCRIBERS. It will be impossible to send receipts in future, to each subscriber, owing to the large number of subscriptions coming in daily. The receipt of Tiie Southern Field and Fireside, after the money is remitted, will be evi dence to each subscriber that his money has been re ceived and his name duly entered on the mail book. - mt ■ TO CORRESPONDENTS AND CONTRIBUTORS. We have received during the week, the following arti cles from our Contributors. The Pride of the Laird of Strathspey—by Cousin Jessie. Rural Life—by J. G. The World a Lie—by I)iv. A Walk in Memory’s Garden—by Alma. Cheerfulness—by Tallulaii May. Summer Winds are passing—by S. L. 11. Dream-Life —by Kate B. T. Lives to one I knew in former days—by Louise. The Wild Flower given by a Lady—by J. G. “Napoleon's Prophecy,” and a Sonnet —by W. Gil more Simms. To an Authoress —by.NovissiMi s. The Incarnation—by Novissimus. The Stately Mansion—by Ammonette. The time for fun —by Sun. • Mrs. Hemans and L. E. L.—by Mosa. The Patriot's Song—by B. . Many of the above named Communications and of those the reception of which has been heretofore a know ledge, have not yet been read; and, of course, it has not yet been determined whether, or not, we shall desire them for our columns. Let our friends be patient yet a little while. We hope soon to be able to announce to them the disposition made of the favors they have sent to us. We have received also, several books and pamphlets of Addresses and Poems, which we desired to notice But they reached our table too late for notice to-day. —1 • FROM OUR PARIS CORRESPONDENT. Paris, 14th July, 1859. The distinguishing characteristic of our mod ern world, in this “middle of the 19th century,” is the rapidity with which it rolls. The present is the Young Rapid of Epochs. Louis Napo leon took occasion, about a month ago, to inform us, over the shoulders of the Milanese, that he was of it—that if there were “old fogies” still extant who did not know the time of day, he was not one of them. Whatever divarications are observable in certain other cases, between his words and his acts, here, at least, his procla mation and his performance run parallel. The allied army, under his guidance, has won the victory at Montebello; driven the Airntruyis from Piedmont; crossed the Sesia ; twice beaten the enemy at Palostro; crossed the Ticino; beaten the enemy at Magenta; entered Milan ; fought and won at Marignan; pursued the flyiug Austrians to Castiglionc ; won the great battle of Sol ferino; crossed the Mincio; invested Peschiera ; blockaded Mantua; and threatened Verona—all this was his work in six weeks. And now, on the seventh, his rest, more remarkable than his work, comes an ’armistice and Peace. A war between two great nations, begun and ended within two months. The case has no parallel in history—which shows how much history, t. e., the world, has advanced. For, without question ing Napoleon's great talent, both as captain and diplomatist, I maintain that he could not have done all this in the last century. The Spirit of the age has been his powerful ally, which, lie lias shown his truly great ability, by consulting and obeying. The steamer which took out my letter of last Thursday, will have also brought you the great news of the Armistice decided upon that day, but not anticipated here, even by slightest ru mor, one moment before the Emperor's telegraph ic dispatch, dated at Valleggio, 7th July, was published in an Extra Jluniteur —and that was an hour after closing of the last mail for the steamer. Had it been annnounced that evening that Peschiera had fallen, or a new victory was won in open battle, or that Verona had capitu lated, the Parisians had been ready for the news and cried, “I told you so.” Indeed, idle rumors to such effect—rumors ever on the wing, like evening swallows, catch ing for an instant and releasing the attention of as idle and mobile Parisians—had been floating in the air that day. But when, at about eight o’clock, the news of tW Armistice was officially announced, we were taken utterly by surprise. Strictly, it was not an armistice, but a suspen sion of arms, which is something different, and, according to the usages of war, something less significant. But, though next day government took pains to warn the public that it was but a truce, not necessarily leading to any better re sults, and though Napoleon’s order of the day to the army, which was posted all over town, spoke of it as offering the soldiers a time of repose from their past glorious labors, and of recruiting strength for new like labors, when the “hour for combats should strike again,” it was almost universally interpreted as the beginning of the end of the war—the first step in a course, not to be interrupted, toward peace. At seven o’clock, P. M., on Thursday, no one expected a truce; at nine o'clock, every one expected peace was to come ; and when, at one o’clock on Tues day, the guns of the Invalided announced that peace had come, every one was more surprised than if they had announced renewed war and victory. Indeed, in spite of Armistice and ex pectation, a new victory was the first involun tary interpretation given by many to that peace- j ful thunder. The news spread through ton’ll with singular rapidity, and was generally hailed with gladness. Flags came out more rapidly and more abund antly than after the Solferino victory; and at night the illumination of the city was nearly as brilliant as then. If the rejoicing on Tuesday was in some respects less exultant, it was, I think, as general and more profound. The ex xhk sotrx&xiu? yxs&D Ann vxmssns. pression of admiration is more noisy lie fore a display of fire-works than a sun rise—which does not prove that fire-works are most esteemed. If the war was popular—and I believe it was ns popular as any war, except one for home de fense. can well lie—the peace is more poptdar. Do not understand, however, that the French let the manner or matter of it pass without criti cism. Now tjiat the first flush of surprise and tri umph is past, the criticism is becoming in some quarters severe enough. The bases of the peace agreed upon by tlie two Emperors, as given in the unsatisfactory and rather ambiguous brevity of the Imperial telegram, are compared with phrases of certain Imperial proclamations still | fresh in our memory. And so we ask; Is Italy free, | from the Alps to the Adriatic? Are the Italian I people left to decide on their form of government ? : In fine, wo ask much such questions here in ! Paris as you will be asking in Augusta for a j fortnight hence. Since you are quite as com petent as myself to find answers for them, I | will pass on. or rather back, to some of the facts in the history of this sudden peace making. The suspension of arms was proposed by the French Emperor—by tlie victor. At first sight, ; this seems surprising: a second thought shows | it most natural. To say nothing of tlie Napole ■ onic precedent of 11 Germinal, year V, when ■ another victorious Bonaparte offered a truce to j the Commander-in-Chief of another defeated Austrian army, which terminated the great cam paign of 1796, and led to the treaty of Campo Formio—there were other present and pressing ; reasons why Napoleon should offer, and Francis Joseph accept, a speedy settlement of the war. You will not have forgotten that immediately j after the battle of Solferino. a preliminary inter change of courtesies began—a mutual return of ! officers and wounded prisoners—a request from the Austrian for the dead body of young Win- I dischgratz, most politely acceded to by the Frenchman—out of all which grew passages between the hostile camps of flags of truce — some by officers of rank, who were treated on either side with attentive hospitality—and tlie exchange of Imperial autograph letters—then | the truce—then the terms of it—then the peace. ; If you will consider the positions of the two armies, you will see that, besides a possible su ; periority of numbers, the French had great ad vantages of ground, in case of a battle. If they conquered under great disadvantages of ground at Solferino, what would they not do now ? But they had the far greater moral advantage of un ! intei rupted past success. Peschiera was already within ten days of capitulation: Mantua and ; Legnano could offer no co-operation with Verona, which, in its turn, with a dispirited garrison, could hardly have offered a long resistance to ’ the conquerors of Sebastopol; and, Verona taken, ! while Venice, if not already fallen, could not !be expected to resist—a further resistance of Austrians in Italy would have been impossible. In that most important element of strength for prolonging tlie war, pecuniary means, Napoleon was still the superior of his bankrupt rival; and again, was his superior in that he was free from the distractions of imminent revolution at home. But revolution is the common enemy of both rulers. It was ouly for the case of a general war, that Napoleon would have cared to use an arm, so dangerous to himself, against hostile Germany. lie has no motive for desiring now tlie destruction of Austria, for the sake of further strengthening Prussia, a much more formidable enemy, for whom, perhaps, the next Napoleonic war is planning. On tlie contrary, his policy is to change his conquered enemy, Austria, into his grateful friend, and therefore, instead of further humiliating poor Francis Joseph, whose pride and obstinacy are pretty well broken down by a series of disasters, and chagrin, and fever, be soothes and tickles him, by asking for a truce; then, obtaining a personal interview, “eyes him over," that innocent young man, with those singular, still eyes of his; talks him over with that smooth wise tongue of his; generously offers his own aid; flatteringly asks his young impe rial brother's aid against revolution, in Austria, in Italy, in Europe. There is another set of causes to be mentioned in this imperfect table of contents of last week’s history. I was saying, tlie other day, that this war might be regarded, in part, as French inva sion of England, disguised under an Italian mask. To close it as he began it, by hia» own hand, would be the dictate, not merely of autocratic pride and high egotistic ambition, but of the long-headed anti-British policy of Louis Napo leon. ‘While England, and Prussia, and Russia, are getting ready to begin to be “ready for all eventualities,” and diplomatic quill drivers are busy with their preparations for offering propo sitions for mediating for negotiations for prelim inaries of a Congress, this one man steps before them, does up tlie entire business in a day.— Their diplomatic correspondence sinks to the minimum value of waste paper. Much obliged to them for their good intentions, but really has no use for paving stones! When he has a job of work to do, prefers to do it himself—English neighbors and others had as well stay at home ! To England, and Prussia, the manner of this peace-making is a sort of diplomatic insult, which yet does not offer them achanccforopenlyresent ing. Pocket it, they must. It also pretty well clears off the old insult put upon France by the Viennese treaties —which red tape and sealing wax can hardly make a respectable looking pack age of, any longer. The Viennese treaties, which have been of small binding force on most of the parties to them, any time the last forty years, when the parties found it convenient to disregard them, may henceforth pass for abrogated. This is the part of Napoleon’s triumph which will perhaps be most appreciated and lauded by the French. It may well have been for a large part also in Francis Joseph's readiness to accept the offered terms, that it anticipated the action of Prussia. It would be painful for Austria to re ceive even favors from her; and her armed in tervention, much as it was desired by Austria ten days ago, must have been regarded with jealousy and dread. But I must stop. Some of your readers may wish I had not begun with these solemnities and gravities. They would prefer something of the lightness and gaiety of Paris in letters dated from the gay capital. Don’t blame me, dear readers; blame, rather, the Emperors; or blame the Pari sians themselves, of whose talk and interest on and in the absorbing topic of tlie day, it is my function to be the echo. Next week, or one of these presently coming weeks, I promise that the theme will be changed. Meantime, to amuse such of you as are beginning your French les sons, let me offer, to relieve the heaviness of the foregoing columns, by this pleasant specimen of a light French pun; it is the inscription which the spirituelle Marquis do Bieose put up over tlie entrance to his stables: Jlonni soitqui mol y panse. Tiie celebrated Dunkirk fisherman, John Barth, was elevated on account of his courage and ability, to the rank of Commodore in the French navy. When liis promotion took place, Lo uis XIV. said to him, “ Oh, Barth, I have made you a Commodore.” “Sire," replied the bluff seaman, “you have done right.” jf"lVe publish below the sketch entitled “ A Battle Field,” and invite to its perusal, not as a finished literary composition, but because of the healthy moral tone which per vades it, and to which the writer has given such strong and indignant expression. To our mind, the battle fields of Magenta and Solferino present modern society, and human nature itself, in a most discouraging aspect. As lie contemplates them, the moralist, the philo sopher, the philanthropist becomes sick at heart, and the Christian, himself, almost despairs of humanity. There is a march of mind. There is a progress in civilization. Science, Art, Litera ture have made, and are making, wonderful and glorious advances. This is well. But talk not of moral progress, of higher motives to human conduct, of an improving moral sense, of the religious principle penetrating and pervading society, of an approaching Millennium, when scenes like these we have just witnessed in Italy are dared to be enacted! —when they can be enacted without exciting a universal burst of horror and reprobation against the actors! Shame upon the two heartless, ruthless, Em perors, demons in human shape, whose ambition has thus led tlie nations to mutual slaughter! Shame upon the hundreds of thousands of men who permit themselves to be led to these battle fields, like beasts into a Roman amphitheatre, for the work of mutual destruction! And shame upon our modern civilization, and upon all Christendom that can look on with indiffer ence, while these horrible sacrifices upon the altar of Moloch are being performed! And tliere are many who applaud! —and there are many who call it “glorious!” Yes, there are some who think a Zouave the very perfection of humanity! For our own part, we do not see in all this an iota’s advance upon the morality, the motive the. religion, of three thousand years ago. f [Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.] A BATTLE FIELD. BY X. A. P. “Yesterday evening, not without great dif ficulty, I succeeded in getting here, to inspect the field of the glorious battle fought on Satur day last—Magenta— Carrs, of the London Xews:' “A glorious battle /” Heavens! in what strange company is that word — glorious t* But yes, there is a glory of the battle-field; yet, how strange must be the appetite to relish it! How awfully must be tlie wliettiug preparatory to that taste? How must the eye be educated in the severe school of horrors to hold within its vision that glory f Tlie ear —how greatly must its natural functions be transformed, so as to hear glory swelling from such a field ? And, oh! how must every power of feeling and element of sensation be blunted and stunned, in order to realize glory swelling from such a scene ? What is its glory? Hear it! Half a million of men meet upon the fatal arena. Why ? Some feature of a certain treaty is supposed to have been directly or remotely infringed; and, there by, or in addition—or, at least, so the fact is stated, too much control is exercised by one government over another. But, be the cause or reason just, or unjust, the armies meet. Tlie contest is long. A hundred times ten thousand, the fearful cannons bellow the thunder of cer tain death. Rifle and musket, bayonet and sword, do their fatal work—the work of death; twenty or thirty thousand are slain. The al lies achieve a glorious victory! Ah! it is a proud day for the Emperor! Who achieved the vic tory? Who won the glory t Why, the Emperor —yes, of course, his generals, and men, too. Well, yes—glory! glory! I To whom ? Why, to the side that lacked, say, five thousand of losing as many meu as the other. Well, that is satis factory, and, of course, it is susceptible of an easy and clear demonstration. The French conquered, because they drove the enemy from the field, and lost not so many in killed and wounded —yes, and took several hundred guns, and flags, and knap-sacks—yes, and prisoners. Set all this down as a gain. A glorious battlefield! Suppose we go and look at it. We will have a better chance to see its glory now, that the smoke has all cleared away, and not so much noise to disturb us.— Here we are, entenng. We are on the verge. Look! here is a dead man! Poor fellow! Let’s look at him. See! his clothes are all stiff with blood! Heh;! his arm is broken, and his leg: and, look! that sabre-cut on liis shoulder! — Here! stoop down! although laying on his side, his eyes are open, and turned toward the ground. Oh! how deeply intent is that look, though sealed in death ! Ah! I see the reason. Look! he holds in his bloody hand a daguerreotype! Turn it over, and rub off the blood. 0 God! he was a husband and father! Look! here is his wife; and one, two, three, four—four lovely children! 0! Heaven protect, pity, and love them! Now, let us look onward. See the immense plain, dotted with its heaps of the dead and dy ing—one vast charnel house! Let us pass through, and over, sickening and heart-rending as it is. Mark tlie easy and uneasy positions of the dead—here, lying in heaps—there, scattered in confused rows, clotted with human gore. Some with bodies whole—others desperately mangled; some with closed eyes and calm features—others staring and glaring with all the grim contortions of a frensied and maddened death; some witli open hands—others grasping, in death, the weapons of destruction. Here are the old, the middle-aged, and the young—all sleeping in death ? No! no!! no!!! Were it so, we might make our solemn inspection of this glorious bat tle-field without being so greatly horror-stricken; but, my God! see the wounded and dying!—not a few, but by hundreds and thousands. Listen! their shrieks, moans, and groans swell through the air, up to heaven, as one solid cloud of agony and misery! 0! you who have eyes to bear tlie sight, take one long look, and see o’er this ocean of misery the frensied dying, parched with fever, and pinched sorely by the torturing hand of death! Sec them, as they throw their arms about in wild'confusion! Others rise, stag ger, and fall! Oh! what wild commotion!— What eye can look, without a bleeding heart! And you, who have an ear to hear the sound, listen to the unearthly wailing; some—ah! thousands—calling for water! water!! O! water! ! Others, in their delirium, storming at the enemy— encouraging their follows to otucard! Some talking of their wives and chil dren—their little prattling babes far away—their fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters!— Others, in the derangement of a bleeding and burning death, believing their friends are near, ♦Wars are often just—that is, on one side. (Both may be wrong ; but not more than one of the tiro right) The struggle may not be one of choice, but of compul sion, and so, the canse, being * righteous one, victory on that side may be the harbinger of much good. seem to hold converse with them, and recount their bloody strifes; and others —thousands— moan the deep and hollow tones of death! 0 confusion! confusion!! hast thou retired, and given place to this thy, superior ? 0, my God! is this a chapter of human life ? Is this a para graph of earth —our earth ? Yes, but this is a part —the counterpart —of the glorious battle field! But standing in this open field of agony and death, and seeing it in all its dread horrors, can we imagine a scene more sickening to the soul ? A scene, in itself, more powerfully arousing the tender feelings of our nature, and pressing, as it were, our souls out in gushes of deeply painful sympathy? Yes. All we have to do, is to call to this field (of glory)—not twenty thousand, but forty thousand more; made up of weeping wid ows, and wailing orphans; bereaved parents, and mourning brothers and sisters. Allow them to come—for such there are, but perhaps, in greater numbers —and then, oh! Heaven! let me be deaf and blind! Suffer me not to realize a scene so painfully awful! Spare my heart the pain of such bitter bleeding! Let me not witness so painful a vision of the living and the dead! Oh! who could measure that Hood of scalding tears; and, flowing out therewith, the essence of forty thousand deeply throbbing hearts. And this, the glorious battle field! But let us take one other view—a different one. IVliy this destruction of human life? and how this rushing together of maddening armies ? Os their own free will? Not so. These were as brothers—strangers—and their acquaintance was formed in death. Had they met quietly together, the better feelings of their nature would have budded, bloomed, and matured in friendship. “Emperor fought against Emperor" —that is true —there’s the secret. A little fire in a little building burns up a city. But again, Webster, in a passion, slays Park man. Moral sentiment is aroused in a whole Republic. Webster expiates liis crime on the gallows. He dies, a felon. Again, an Emperor grows jealous of his neighbor's power, or is dis pleased at some of his acts—or his non-acts; three hundred thousand men are called to the field, and meet as many more; one hundred thousand more are hurried to eternity. Wid ows weep, orphans wail, parents bow down with sorrow; which all amounts to “a great victory!"—notorious battle!!" Among the books which have been laid upon our table, which we would like much to read, and which we mean to read carefully, so soon as we have a couple of hours to spare, is a small volume containing a Tragedy entitled Iztal ilro—the Lady of Tula — by Mrs. L. Virginia French, of Tennessee. We have in our portfolio an interesting con tribution from the author of Iztalibo, which will very soon appear in our columns; and we hope that hereafter we shall frequently have the pleasure of welcoming to our Fireside this most amiable lady and charming writer. In the meantime, and to supply the want of a notice of our own, we cannot more acceptably introduce her to our readers than by copying the following notice of htalilxo from the pen of the talented editress of the "Ladies’ Depart ment of the Temperance Crusader: IZTALILXO. THE LADY OF TI’LA. Last night, we “ devoured at a sitting ” this beautiful tragedy, which, on our return, wc found awaiting us, sent, with the compliments of the distinguished authoress—Mrs. L. Virginia French. It opens with an introductory note, half preface, half dedication, which has the ef fect of giving the reader almost a personal inter est in what follows, because the note is addressed to “my friend;” and who, at least in this land of warm Southern hearts, is not the friend of the gifted Mrs. French—the sweet poetess, the sprightly essayist—more than this, the true hearted woman, the faithful wife, and tender mother ? The scene of Iztalilxo is laid in the “ Land of the Sun,” the country of Mexico, when the strange people, the Tezcucons, ruled over its wealth-teeming mountains and plains, and the daring foot of Cortez had not yet printed its strand. The little volume is full of impassioned, poetry, and some of the scenes are highly dra matic. The third one in the fourth act is finely sustained; but the meeting in the Cypress grove, between the two lovers, victims to the “ love that fate forbids,” is replete with tenderness and beauty. We can hardly choose, between so many beautiful passages, any particular one to quote; but there is one that only a woman could have written. Iztalilxo has said, “ I wish,” and then hesitated and paused, and the adoring prince exclaims: Thy “wish”—O tell me. love! Hadst thou thy dearest wish, what would it be? A throne—an empire—nations at thy feet— Gold like the sands upon the boated shore — Honors—or Fame to sound thy gentle name Down ages yet to come—which should it be? Izta. Not one of all these! I would be best hired Os all that have been, or shall ever be! Prixce. Why, that’s a woman's wish, and well fuimied Long ere'twas uttered, when I show the world Its ruling impress Izta. Stay! I crave not that; The empire I would have is one sweet home With two hearts dwelling in it; I’d not seek To sway but one, for that is all the world ! And we cannot help thinking that this “wish” is the dearest one in the heart of her who makes a paradise of “ Forest Home.” A friend once said to us: “ Yes; Mrs. French has ambi tion, but it is ambition to be loved and prized by the few, rather than admired by the many.”— She has both —the love of friends, and the ad miration of the many; and surely they were never bestowed upon one more deserving. An Old Book.—The oldest book in the United States, it is said, is a manuscript Bible in the possession of Dr. Wotherspoon, of Alabama, written above a thousand years ago ! The book is strongly bound in boards of old English oak, and with thongs by which the leaves are also well bound together. The leaves are entirely made of parchment of a very su perior quality, of fineness and smoothness little inferior to the best satin. The pages are all ruled with great accuracy, and written with great uniformity and beauty, in the old German text hand, and divided into chapters and verses. The first chapter of every book in the Bible is written with a large capital'of inimitable beauty, and splendidly illuminated with red, blue, and black inks, still in vivid colors; and no two of the capital letters in the book are precisely alike.— Globe. Mr. Gibson, the English sculptor, in whose studio at Rome Miss Hosmer studied, has decid ed upon coloring his statue of Bacchus as he did his Venice and Cupid. FUH, FACT, AND PHILOSOPHY. “ I haven’t another word to say—l never dispute with fools.” “ Xo, sir, for you are very sure to agree with them.” " “ That's the rock on which we split,” said Charley to his wife, when she asked him to rock the cradle. Mrs. Partington desires to know why the captain of a vessel can't keep a memorandum of the weight of his anchor, instead of weighing it every time he leaves port. A machine for the manufacture of ice is now in operation in London, which turns out three tons of that commodity daily. It is the inven tion of Mr. Harrison of Australia. The refrigera tion is produced by the evaporation of ether in a vacuum. The original of Power’s “ Greek Slave " has been sold, in London, to the Duke of Cleveland, for 1,800 guineas ($9,000). To Ascertain the length of the day and night at any time of the year, double the time of the sun’s rising, which gives the length of the night, and double the time of setting, which gives the length of the day. Good company and good conversation are the sinew of virtue. Time wears slippers of list, and his tread is noiseless. The days come softly dawning, one after another; they creep in at the windows; their fresh morning air is grateful to the lips that listen to it; their music is sweet to the ears that listen to it; until, before we know it, a whole life of days has possession of the cita del, and time has taken us for its own. A learned lord, speaking of the salary at tached to a rumored appointment to a new judge ship, said it was all moonshine. Lord Lynd liurst, in his dry, sarcastic way, remarked, “May be so, but I have a strong notion that, moon shine though it be, you would like to see the first quarter of it” “Husband, I must have some change to-day.” “Well, stay at home and take care of the chil dren—that will be change enough, anyhow.” Jane lookt at me so tweete, i lookt at Jane, And we both felt considerably nonplussed; We was both happy 'nough to p<> insane. And we sat there for a short time, and busted. Two young ladies bathing near New York on 1 Friday, were carried out of their depth. One of them was drowned. The other, with great pres ence of mind, refrained from struggling, floated upon her back, and though being in the water for more than an hour, was very little exhausted when rescued. • How to Restore People who Faint. —When anybody faints, instead of making a noise or dashing water upon him, lay him at full length on his back on the floor, loosen his clothing, push the crowd away, so as to allow the air to reach him, and let him alone. The philosophy of a fainting fit is, the heart fails to send the proper supply of blood to the brain. If the person is erect, that blood has to be thrown up hill; but if lying down, it has to be projected horizontally. Which requires less power, is apparent. Small faults indulged, are little thieves which let in greater. Solitude is'dangerous to reason, without being favorable to virtue. Wear your learning like your watch, in a pri vate pocket, and don’t pull it out to show that you have one ; but ifyou are asked what o’clock it is, tell it A truly grateful heart may not be able to tell its gratitude, but it can feel, and love, and act. “Madam, has your piano an vEolian attach ment ?” asked Stubbs, the other night, of the wife of a man who appeared to live fully up to, if not beyond, his means. “Hush 1” whispered Stiggins in his ear; “it has a Sheriffs attachment." Stubbs dropped the subject “ Wno is that lovely girl ?” said the witty Lord Norbury, in company with his friend, Counsellor Grant. “Miss Glass,” replied Grant. “ Miss Glass,” replied Grant. “I should often be intoxicated, could I place such a glass to my lips,” said Norbury. “Have you noticed the vEolian attachment to Miss B—’s piano ?,’ “No, but I’ve observed its Arcadian Attach * merit," replied one who had remarked how fond of each other Miss B. and her music teacher were becoming. Thirty-three stars will be on the National flag from 4th of July, 1859. This is in com pliance with the act of Congress, passed April, 1848, which declares that on the admission of every new State one star shall be added, and that such addition shall take place on the 4th of July next succeeding its admission. A church was dedicated to Spiritualism at Sturgis, Michigan, on the 10th of June. Six teen hundred persons were present. Baudens says that chloroform was adminis tered in thirty thousand cases, in the French army in the Crimea, without any fatal accident from it. There is as much eloquence in the tone of the voice, in the look, and in the gesture of an orator, as in his language. Were we to take as much pains to be what we ought to be, as we do to disguise what we really are, we might appear like ourselves, without being at the trouble of any disguise. Did we not flatter ourselves, the flattery of others would never hurt us; for flattery is a sort of bad money to which our vanity only gives currency. Wiiat is the difference between a butcher and a ’young lady ? The former kills to dress while the latter dresses to kill. An Irishman, who had returned from Italy, where he had been with his master, was asked in the kitchen: “ Pat, what is the lava I hear the master talking about?” “Only a drop of the crater,” was Pat’s witty reply. At a recent exhibition of paintings, a lady and her son were regarding with much interest a picture which the catalogue described as “ Luther at the Diet of Worms.” Having des canted at some length upon its merits, the boy remarked, “ Mother, I see Luther and the table, but where are the worms ?” The following are provisions of the United States law prescribing “a legal tender:” Gold coins and silver dollars for all sums; half dol lars and smaller silver coins for all sums not over five dollars; and three cent pieces not over thirty cents. No provision is made for cents, which may, therefore, be refused. A Snug Income. —Elias Howe, Jr., who has purchased P. T. Bamum’s famous place in Bridgeport, Conn., is the inventor of the sowing machine needle, which, we are informed, yields the patentee the snug income of one thousand dollars a day.