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have made, then is the union mosfpeifoct and
holy; but if their foil grown nature* rise above
the love that was once sufficient to satisfy their
undeveloped souls; if they awaken to a con
sciousness that the object of their girlish passion
can never be crowned with the rich, reverent
love of their mature womanhood—wbat then ?
Duty in place of love? The words are easy of
utterance, but the human heart is rebellious, and
not even the voice of duty can stifle its plead
ing*, when, turning from the brilliant toys of
wealth, fame and admiration, it asks still ior
love—sweet, human love! Shall this be denied
itT Shall the woman never fulfil her sweetest
destiny, never wear her dearest crown? Shall
the dew of love, which has gathered in the full
flower of her heart, only shed its perfume upon
her silent thoughts? So, when neglect, or re
fined cruelty, or other causes (not recognized by
law} have withered or snapt asunder the living,
flowery tie between two hearts, shall the iron
bond of law and custom remain, when the blos
soms of love that wreathed it have faded and
Deep thinking minds have found the problem
difficult of solution. Margaret Fuller wrestled
with it, with ell the earnestness of her strong,
practical, yet richly sympathetic nature, and
many deeoiats hearts, not daring to give the
question open utterance, silently ask it of
Sp themselves and are answered only by their
tears,
And yet, the right solution seems easy enough
to find. If the tears of feeling did not blind the
eyes of reason, it would be plainly seen that, even
if there were no such thing as moral duty, no
unerring law laid down by Deity himself, yet
the good of society would still demand an ob
servance of the rules that now govern it—the
customs that have naturally grown out of the
> social necessities of mankind. All laws require
that the interest of the individual should be sa
crificed to the good of the oommunity. The
bond of marriage, the great chain that binds all so
ciety together and from which proceed the sweet
oat and holiest relations of men to each other,
must not be deprived of its strength and made a
brittle tie to be broken at will, because there are
some to whom it is heavy and galling, not indeed
through cruel treatment, absolute neglect, or
any causes of which law is cognizant, but of
uncongeniality, loss of esteem, and indifference,
whose cold breath as effectually extinguishes the
light of happiness upon the domestic altar as
hate or cruelty could do. Such, whose ill fate it
is to be unoongenially mated, must accept their
lot; must gather up what hopes and joys yet re
main to them and braid the brightness of these
into their lives; must take the good when denied
the best, instead of wildly rebelling at their ft to,
like unreasoning birds that but wound them
selves beating against the bars of their cage.
It maybe that often their lot admits of ameli
oration. Love may be cultivated; and by noble
example and earnest, patient endeavour, t su
perior moral or intellectual nature may raise an
inferior one, if not to its own level, at least to
an elevation that will render companionship
possible. And would not such a work be suffi
ciently great to occupy heart and mind, and
prevent thoughts from turning back to the past
in gloomy retrospection, or looking out sbud
deringly upon the dreary sea of the future?'
But if affection and reapect may not be culti
vated or restored, why should the unhappily
married aggravate the sadness of their lot by
dwelling gloomiugly upon around
* * .iTHSI shining ami ifio *»• r r
hfhil? They would “for tli
dumb string,” because -tewSbseems to them
sweeter than all the rest. LoVs indeed is sweet,
but life has other sources of happiness. If love
must sit forever a cold and ideal statue in the
inner champer of the heart, nature still lives
with her breathing beauty and her silent sym
pathy—all her aspects full of mute, yet human
like tenderness. Gentle affections spring around
the path even of one to whom love must ever
be a dream or a memory.
If she be a mother, then is her life not barren
and aimless, for the mother—love, stronger than
all, can throw itself upon the ashes of the wildest
desolation. But if the blessing of maternity be
also denied her, there are other objects upon
which to turn the energies of her being. Should
the duties of her home not be sufficient to satisfy
these, there is the broad and boundleas field of
knowledge, science, literature, art p—in the pur
suit of either of these, she may engage with the
earnestness of one who feelß the need of a mas
ter object to fill the vacuity of the heart, and
give to life a hope and a purpose.
The wonderful success of women in the higher
walks of literature hag proven that it is a sphere
for which their talents are peculiarly designed,
while, in this prosperous republic, beneath the
fostering wing of liberty, there exists no cause
why art should not attain the perfection it
“f reached in the old republics of Greece and Rome,
and no reason, as Miss Hosmer and others have
.shown, why the warmth and delicacy of wo
man's imagination and her power of ideal
conception should not be employed in aiding her
country to build up a national school of art; in
raising the popular taste to a higher eleva
tion and making fine pictures and statuary as
much a necessity in every American home, as
the upholstery which now fills its apartments in
almost vulgar profusion.
Away with the sickly sentimentalism .that
sing* of “love" as “woman’s whole existence 1”
I hold that woman can live —in the fullest signi
ficance of the word—can think, work, hope, as
pire, suffer and eDjoy, can perform the duties
required of her by God and by society, indepen*
dent of love. I hold that she may stand alone
in her individual strength without this stay—so
often a broken reed—to lean upon. If the man
she has once loved and married, falls beneath her
esteem and reverence, or if she rise above him
through the natural and inevitable development
of her spiritual and mental nature, I would not
have her bend her proud mind or her pure heart
to his level. Such would not be her duty, such
would be an almost unpardonable wrong to her
own soul; and neither God nor society has re
quired such a sacrifice. Let her be sufficient
unto herself: let her soul walk apart and above
in its own individuality, while yet she is patient,
gentle, and as tender as she may be, in her re
' lation as a wife, though in her own heart she
may indeed feel that in truth and sacredness,
her wife-hood fails to realize her ideal. To "do
this, a strong effort is requisite—an effort that
wqjild seldom be needed if marriage were
looked upon in the serious and important light
it should be; if the girl would be content to wait
until she matured into womanhood, before taking
upon herself the grave duties and high responsi
bilities of a wife.
There are other and nobler occupations than
those of a merely mental nature, in which wo
■ men, unhappy in their home relations, may lose
sight of tbeir own griefs. Opportunities for
benefitting others exist in the most contracted
spheres. The effort to do good may seem in
significant, but the cup of cold water held to the
thirsting lip, passed not unnoticed by the eye of
TXm BQWTXMMM XWffiO MMH YXUSSDS.
Omniscience; while no deed of pure and unself
ish benevolence will fail of bringing its own
immediate compensation in the warm glow of
happiness it diffuses around the heart A thorn
removed from the path of a brother will plant a
roee in our own, and the tear of sympathy shed
for another’s sorrow, has a smile for its shadow.
It is this broad, pure, universal love—this broth
erhood of feeling, that
“Take* op the harp of life and smites on all ita chords
with might,
thntte* Me chord of self that trembling glide* in
mueic, out of eight,”
GROUNDS FOR A DIVORCE.
Not many weeks since, as one of the eastern
steamboats was leaving the pier, a middle-aged
gentleman, apparently in a very discomposed
state of mind, was seen to rush down Battery
street, with his hat in his hand, his coat flying
and his face red with heat and excitement, while
he shouted at the top of his lungs—“ Stop that
boat! My wife is on boardj She is running
away! Stop, I say I” As he vociferated these
words, a pretty youthful-looking woman came
to the side of the departing vessel, nodded with
an air of provoking nonohalence to the clamor
. ous individual on the wharf) and said—“Good'
bye, Timothy, my love—l am merely going on
a little excursion to Connecticut, to visit aunt
Rebecca.”
“Stop that boat, or I’ll have every body on
board indicted for bigamy and abduction I Put
that woman back on the wharf! Are you the
captain?"
“Ay, ay, what’s all this row about? The
fellow must be out of his senses.”
“You see that woman in white, with a black
mantilla 1 She is my wife, and is running away.
Step her. Land her on the wharf. My name
is Blodgett—Timothy Blodgett. It’s an indicta
ble offence if you carry that woman off.”
Smiling at the earnestness of the perspiring
gentleman on the pier, the captain ordered the
engine to be checked, while he investigated the
affair. In the meantime, a number of those in
teresting characters known by the name of
“dock loafers,” who subsist much after the
manner of wharf rats, collected around Mr.
Blodgett, and indulged in some free
sophical observations in regard to the pes&Jiar
state of excitement under which he seemed to
labour.
“Cab, sir?” asked one of them, byway of
breaking the ice of conversation.
“ Begone I” said the unfortunate man, wiping
his brow with a handkerchief.
“ Shan't we run and tell the hengines to stop,
sir?” asked a shirtless gentleman, who for the
sake of fresh air from the Narrows, had passed
the preceding night on a wood-pile.
“ Vun might know that a voman vas in the
vind I” exclaimed a hungry-looking varlet, who
to judge from his accentuation, had not long
been out of hearing of Bowbells—“0 voman in
this world of A-oursl as the poet says.”
By this time the captain had made inquiries
of the lady, which satisfied him that the crimson
faced gentleman on shore really had a marital
claim on her, and so backing the boat towards
the pier again, he gave her his hand, ordered
the plank to be thrown down, and led her to tho
wharf to the arms of the disconsolate Mr. B. t
when, after bestowing a gentle malediction upon
both of them, be returned to the boat, which
was soon again under way.
, J-ha-nassengagt laughed—the gentlemen of
who happened td«b witnesses of the transac- i
tion, signified tbeir gratification by a series of
indescribable yells, which they had learned from
some sham Indians at theMußeum, who were
in the nightly habit of misrepresenting the mur-'
der of Miss McCrea.
Greeted with demonstrations of like
these, Mr. and Mrs. B. proceeded towards Broad
way, where they got into a Fourth street omni
bus, and were lost to the curious public.
Thus much the reader may have already been
apprised of from the newspapers of the day;
but the task remains for me to follow the inhar
monious couple to their home—to lift the veil
from a scene of domestic, persecution, tyranny
and cruelty, at which every humane and gener
ous heart must recoil.
Blodgett was an old bachelor when he took
it into his head to marry—a precise, particular,
formal, frigid old bachelor. He had commenced
life as a clerk, and for thirty years had been a
salaried man, during which time to say that he
was as regular as clockwork in his hours, would
bo to pay mechanism an unmerited compliment
—no chronometer was ever so exact. Precisely
as the City Hall bell announced the hour of sev
en, his breakfast must be on the table, and at
half-past eight you might safely stake half your
fortune on the certainty that he would be found
perched on the stool of the counting-room of his
employers, mending his pens and making pre
parations for the clerical labours of the day.
Timothy resided' in lodgings which were un
der the charge of a coloured woman, who had,
after many years of active attention, acquired a
perfect knowledge of his peculiarities,,and who
accommodated herself to them with praiseworthy
care. Never, by any accident, of late, did she
place the butter-knife east and west instead of
north and south—never was there a wrinkle in
the table-cloth —never was the salt-cellar a hair's
breadth out of the position in which Timothy
delighted to see it—never was a corner of the
rug turned up—never was the poker placed at
an angle of 45° instead of 37£—and never was
the big arm-chair placed three feet instead of
four feet and seven-eighths from the hearth-
Btone. With such a superintendent -of his do
mestic affairs, is it to be wondered that Timothy’s
bachelor life flowed on tranquilly and uninter
ruptedly ? In an evil hour he visited the thea
tre and saw Fanny Elsaler dance the Craco
vienne.
Thenceforward he was an altered man. For
the first time in his life he began to consider se
riously the diversity of the sexes. The feminine
society that he had hitherto immediately en
countered, was that of his worthy housekeeper
and the ladies whom he met in omnibusses.
Timothy put the question to himself, “Why are
women sent into the world ?” and after labori
ous deliberations, he arrived at the philosophical
conclusion that they were sent to be married.
The fact had never struck him forcibly before;
but now the idea took complete possession of
his miffd, and, like a bee shut up in a lantern,
buzzed and buzzed without intermission. His
first intention was to propose for Elsßler, but
before making himself ridiculous by taking that
step, he fortunately- consulted with his friend
Huggins, Secretary of the Asbestos Insurance
Company.
“Nonsense, old boy," said Huggins, after
Blodgett had confided to him his connubial as
pirations ; “ don’t make such a fool of yourself
at your years. Come round to my house in
Madison street, this evening, and you shall see
some girls worth a whole theatre*of opera
dancers. Mrs. Hugging gives a small party,
and will be delighted to see you.”
“I will borne,” said Blodgett, with solemnity,
■—'lK' I * I' gjjl WJ ■"
as if nerving himself to tiis determination of
taking a critical step—“ I will come.”
Early that evening Blodgett astonished his
housekeeper, Mrs. Lane,,®? issuing from his
chamber dressed in blade tights, a white vest,
and blue coat with brass' buttons. Had he ap
peared before her with wjipv-.she could not
have been more confounded);•» ‘
“I sha'n’t be borne till bfclf-past ten, Mrs.
Lane," said be, with a grew and mysterious air,
as he strove to button a white kid glove around
a wrist none of the slenderest
Mrs. Lane gazed in silent and absorbed won
der, and made no reply. Blodgett thrußt on his
hat, and, with a look of desperate energy,march
ed out of the house.
Among the nymphs assembled at Mrs. Hug
gins’ was a Mias Amanda Smiitii, who was re
garded as the belle of the evening. She was
accompanied by a sort of duenna, in the person
of a maiden annt of severe aspect, whose main
anxiety seemed to be to entrap some one of the
less cautious of the “ eligible ’’ male visitors in
the noose thrown out by the unquestionable,
personal charms of her niece. The instant
Blodgett entered tho room, aunt Rebecca pro
cured from Huggins a complete schedule of his
available assets. The aggregate met her appro
bation, and she instantly determined in her own
• mind to secure the unsuspecting “Ccelebs" for
Amanda. Her manceuvhrihf: proved success
ful ; and three weeks alter the fatal visit to
Huggins’, Blodgett gave np his free, unhoused
condition, and became the husband of a young,
light-headed, spoiled village coquette.
What a transformation ensued I Poor Mrs.
Lane, his housekeeper, was cashiered without
ceremony. All his old habits were ruthlessly
disregarded and laughedat, During the honey
moon, Blodgett was sufficiently uxorious to
yield without a murmur to any demand, how
ever despotic, from Amapda. He would have
walked through Broadway on all fours to please
her. But as the novelty of the connubial rela
tion wore off, he began to rebel at her capricious
edicts; and at length he had the barbarity to
refuse her fifty dollars, which she wanted to
give for a pocket handkerchief. Then commen
ced that system of oppression and cruelty, which
finally drove Mrs. B. to the extremity in which
we found her at the commencement of our nar
rative.
His first overt act of tyranny, which was
alone sufficient to rouse the most tender add
submissive wife to resistance, was in positively
refusing to have his'peas cooked with pepper!
Yes, incredible as it may seem to patient, obe
dient husbands, the vile man absolutely swore
that all the wives in the world shouldn’t per
suade him to eat peppered peasf And when his
meek, suffering angel of a wife pleaded,, with
tears in her eyes, that in her father’s family she
had always been in the habit of peppering the
peas in the pot, and that it wasn’t genteel to
cook them otherwise, and that it was enough to
break her heart for her husband to think that
she didn't best know how to flavour them, and
the cook’s oracle recomrttnded pepper, the brute
had the hardihood to reply—“ Well, my dear,
cook your peas as you like, but I positively nover
will eat pepper on mine I ”
What could the broken-hearted Amanda say
to language like this from the unfeeling despot?
She burst into-tears*'«nd retired to her cham-
A day or-- “-‘terwanls a new outrage upon
her •Humilities w*» fjKtratsd by the savage
whom in *n evil hour chosen as herhus
>nd. Jhe y . Third Avenue,
in danger of ora-.:, a t | . > she
hold of the left ribbon and (rave it a violent jerk.
Unfortunately she should have grasped the
right. The consequence of her mistake was a
collision, which broke in pieces the wheel of
Blodgett's wagon, and .nrew him and his -wife
into a neighbouring mud-puddle. After rising
and going through the idle ceremony of ascer
taining that no bones were broken on either
side, the horrid man exclaimed—“ Confound it,
my dear; you should never touch the reins when
I am driving 1” And then, as if not content
with the barbarities he had inflicted, he added—
“ What a pickle you have got us into 1 ”
Another occurrence succeeded this, not less
calculated to -wound and drive to desperation a
female of a sensitive and amiable temper. They
were walking in Broadway, when a little poodle
dog, with a red ribbon around its dear little
neck, arrested Amanda’s attention, and appealed
to tiie tender sympathies of her finely strung
and delicately attuned nature. Moved by an af
fectionate impulse, she stooped to fondle the
brute, when Blodgett interposed, and said,
“ Don't touch the dirty thing, my dear.”
“ But I will, my dear," replied Amanda, firm
ly but sweetly, and stooping still further to lift
the poodle in her arms.
“It will bite you—don't you hear it growl?
Let me entreat you not to touch it, my dear.
The weather is hot and the creature may have
the hydrophobia—off sir, off I” continued Mr.
Blodgett, as the harmless creature made a snap
at his ankle, and thereupon Blodgett kicked it
into the middle of the street, with a reckless dis
regard of the newly-awakened affection of his
wife towards the interesting object of his hostil
ity and fear.
Blodgett undertook to palliate his brutality by
telling Amanda a long story of his once having
witnessed a case of hydrophobia, and of his re
taining, in consequence, ever after, a nervous
dread of dogs, especially small ones.* But, as
his injured wife appropriately asked, what must
that love be which could not overcome a trifling
antipathy, for the sake of gratifying one who
had lavished upon him tho wealth of her young
affections ?
The question was a poser for Blodgett, and
he could only reply, in his callous way, by say
ing, “ Well, hang it, my dear, don’t let's quarrel
about trifles. I didn't mean to hurt your feel
ings.”
In addition to these aggravated offences, the
inhuman Mr. B. was known, on two occasions,
to refuse to go to Niblo’s with his wife, under
the miserable pretence that he bad been hard at
work during the day, and was troubled with a
headache; as if the elements of love were not
self-sacrifice 1
Against these repeated instances of cruelty,
neglect, and oppression, poor Amanda bore up
till fortitude was no longer a virtue. At length
she despatched a letter, giving a full account of
her grievances, to her aunt Rebecca, and re
ceived, in reply, an invitation to seek refuge from
the persecution of her villain of a husband, in
the arms of her affectionate relatives. Amanda
communicated her wishes to Blodgett, and he
objected to her leaving him, with such profes
sions of attachment and such promises of future
indulgence, that she was induced to abandon
her intention. A circumstance occurred, how
ever, before the end of the month, which de
cided her as to the course which, as a woman
of spirit, she ought to take.
Blodgett, by the way of making amends for
the harshness of bis paßt conduct, had artfully
expressed his willingness that Amanda should
give a large ball, in a style of splendour which
■ h*d never been known in street The in
vitations were given out—the carpets were taken
i up—and Downing himself was engaged to fur
i nish forth the feast—when, on the morning of
the party, the following conversation took place
at the breakfast table:
“ Amanda, my dear, you didn’t forget 4o send
invitations to the Simpkinses, I hope ?”
“You surely don’t mean that odious under
taker’s red-haired family ?”
“ To be sure I do—and nice girls they are—
and I wouldn't offend them for the world, espe
• daily as old Simpkins has lately lost his proper
i ty by endorsing for his scamp of a brother.”
“You may receive the visits of such people,
Mr. Blodgett, but I won't—that’s flat That
. sombre-looking Simpkins always looks at me as
if he were thinking liow nicely I would fit into
i one of his coffins.”
i “ His vocation is a melancholy one, I grant
i you; but Simpkins is one of the best fellows in
i the world, and he once lent me money when
i I was greatly in need of it Indeed, my dear,
I cannot think of having the Simpkinses omit
; ted.”
“And I can't think of having them put the
i stamp of vulgarity on any party of mine. Pray,
sir, do you know who are expected among our
invited guests ? In the first place, there is
Plummins, who has been to Europe and knows
how to waltz. And then there is Mrs. Am
■ brose, the authoress of that sweet tale, 1 The
Murderer’s Daughter,’ in the Ladies’ Visitor—
and Hannegan the auctioneer—and Miss Slip
shod the poetess—and Mr. Flash the fashiona
ble merchant tailor—and Rasp the lawyer—and
Fitz Daub the great portrait painter—and I don’t
know who else, from the very first circles in the
city. What would they think to have the Simp
kinses among us? That fellow, Grumby, would
be cutting his jokes about it at once, and would
go round asking people when the funeral was to
take place. Indeed, husband, I can’t think of
inviting the Simpkinses.”
“Then I will invite them myself. If they
weren’t in trouble, I shouldn’t think so much of
it, but Tim Blodgett is not the man to drop an
old friend because fortune happens to frown on
him. I have eaten many a merry Christmas
dinner with the Simpkinses, and if I can give
them a night of pleasure, I will. So, my dear,
don’t pout, but yield with a good grace. They
don’t go into society so much as to be very gen
erally recognized.”
“If the Simpkinses are to come, I will leave
clis house. I won’t receive them—l won’t I ”
said Amanda, knocking her little fist upon the
table, till the coffee in Blodgett's cup ran over in
consequence of the concussion.
“ Very well, since you refuse to invite them,
I will invite them myself, Mrs. 8.,” said Blodg
ett, rising and leaving the room.
How could it be expected of Amanda to re
main submissive any longer? Was not this last
act of oppression and rigour enough to destroy
the patience of the most forbearing and sweet
tempered wives? She at once made up her mind
to quit New York, and fly to the sympathizing
bosom of her aunt Rebecca. She hastily picked
up a few clothes—sent for a cab, and drove to
the steamboat The tyrant Blodgett became
apprized of her flight by returning home earlier
than he had intended, in order to gain a new
lease for his oppressive conduct by telling his
wife that he had yielded to her prejudices, and
consented not to invite the Simpkinses. To his
dismay he found that Amanda bad fled. He
followed her to the steamboat, and the result has
already been told. .
VW. am awfctnm m■-among tv.»
thousand oases of domestic . oppression, with
which our city abounds. Is il to be wondered
at, that applications for divorce are so numer
ous, when such husbands as the monster Blodg
ett are suffered by the police to go at large?
Does the law offer no redress? Must wives be
subjected to barbarities like those we have been
relating, and the cells of the Egyptian temple
remain vacant? Forbid it gallantry! Forbid it
justice 1
P. S.—lt may be a satisfaction to my readers
to learn that the party took place, and the Simp
kinses were not invited.
—- -*•-»-
HIGHLAND MART.
Tho mother of Bums' Highland Mary,
who resided in Greennock for a long period,
died there on the 27th of October 1827, at
the advanced age of eighty-five years. This
vem rable looking woman remembered to almost
the last moment of her existence, with an
affectionate regard, the one who inspired Burns’
finest effusions, and was the object of the
purest attachment; and it was impossible to
hear her enter minutely into tho full particulars
of her daughter’s life, and the amiable qualities
of her heart, without feeling convinced that
Mary Campbell had something more than ordi
nary attractions to fascinate the mind of the poet.
Were we to judge from the appearance of the
mother, whose fine black eyes and regular fea
tures, at her advanced age, gave indications of
early beauty, we would say that “Highland
Mary" probably had all personal charms, which
would have influenced a less sensitive mind
than that of Robert Bums. Among the little
stores of the deceased, there was nothing to be
found as mementoes of the gifted bard, but the
Bible which he gave his beloved Mary on that
day they met on the banks of the Ayr, “ to live
one day of parting love.” It is indeed, a curi
osity, and has written on the first leaf, in Burns’
hand-writing, the following passage of Scripture,
which is strikingly illustrative of the poet’s
feelings and circumstances.—‘Thou shaft not
forswear thyself, but perform unto the Lord
thine oaths.” It is well known that after this
they never met again, and that time could not
eflace the solemnity of this parting from his
mind; and it is to be regretted that two letters,
which he wrote after her death to the afflicted
mother, liaye been destroyed—the old woman
saying, "she could never read them without
shedding tears.” The mother and daughter are
now sleeping in the West Churchyard; and is
“Mary” to remain without a stone to tell the
stranger of her place of rest? — Home Journal
Some gentlemen of a Bible association calling
upon an old woman to see if she had a Bible,
were severely reproved with the spirited reply,
“Do you think, gentlemen, that I am a heathen,
that you should ask me such a question ?" Then,
addressing a little girl, she said, “Run and fetch
the Bible out of my drawer, that I may show it
to the geutlemen.” The gentlemen declined
giving her the trouble, but she insisted on
giving thtem ocular demonstration. Accord’ugly,
the Bible was brought, nicely covered, and, on
opening it, the old woman exclaimed, “Well, how
glad I am you have come! here are my specta
cles, that I have been looking for these three
years and didn’t know where to find 'em!”
i me
An advertisement of cheap shoes and fancy
articles in an eastern paper has the following:
“N. B.—Ladies wishing these cheap shoes will
do well to call soon, as they will not last long."
♦
THE ENGLISH POMPEII.
The London correspondent es the New York
World, in his letter of June 30, writes :
“ Perht ,ou are not aware that we have a
sort of Pompeii of a buried city here in England,
now undergoing the process of being unearthed.
In Shropshire, about six miles southeast from
Shrewsbury, is a little village called Wroxeter,
situated on the Severn, and surrounded by ves
tiges of antiquity. In the Roman times there
was a station there, called TJriconium, or Virico
nium; and to this day a rampart and ditch, with
remains of walls, three miles in circumference,
mark tbe boundaries of the city. Other Roman
stations, and some British encampments, are
scattered all over the adjacent county; and the
antiquary has only to turn up the soil to be re
warded with an ample crop of relics. The no
ble chieftain, Caractaeus, is supposed by Camden
to have been defeated by the Romans, not far
off; and the presence of the old imperial legions
is to be traced in every direction. But Wroxet
er is the place to which special attention is now
deing directed. The ancient town or station of
1 Unconium was destroyed by the Saxons in their
contests with Romanized Britons; and the re
mains are at this moment being disinterred, as
-1 ter a lapse of some thirteen hundred years. The
1 results are highly interesting and valuable.
Whole houses, as in the ease of Pompeii and
Herculaneum, have been laid bare, and the
workshop of an artificer in metals is now being
opened. A small heap of Roman coins lay on
the sill when the chamber was first broken into,
and the fragments of a small earthen vessel were
found on the floor, dropped there, apparently, by
some one who was carrying it away. This
earthen pot is supposed to have contained the
coins. A large square pier, built of hewn stone,
occupies the centre of the room, and, in one cor
, ner is a raised structure of clay, having in the
upper part a furnace, the inner surface of which
has been vitrified by the intensity of the heat.
, A large quantity of charcoal is scattered about
the chamber, together with several pieces of
figured Samian ware. Eastward from the furn
ance, a low wall runs across the room, another
wall braching from it northward. Other objects
of interest are also to be seen in the enclosure,
and the museum, which is being formed out of
the recent discoveries, has received some valua
ble additions, in the shape of ancient sickles,
pruning-hooks, knives, pottery, and glass, etc.
A large extent of buildings is now revealed once
more to the light of day; but I am sorry to see
it reported that the excavation committee is in
want of funds. This is not the only “ English
Pompeii ”we have. London itself is built over
a vast number of most interesting remains of
the past, which are frequently “turning up" as
we dig for sewers or for the foundations of
houses. At Sllchester, on the borders of Hamp
shire and Berkshire, numerous specimens of
Roman handiwork are to be found aboveground;
and the fields about St. Alban's cover the ruins
of the once splendid, imperial city of Yerulem.
I confess I am not able to explain why, m the
case of the workman's shop at Wroxeter, the
place should have been discovered in such per
fect repair, with the signs of human habitation
and toil lying thickly about, as if the ordinary
avocations of the day had been arrested by somo
sudden convulsion of nature, as in the case of
the two cities in southern Italy; but I suppose
that Borne of the antiquarian societies will take
the matter in hand, and investigate it thorough
ly. Doubtless, the task will be performed by
the British. Arehseologtcal Association, which
wat TirtSy«far hold its annual meeting at Shrews
bury in Use early part of August. Meanwhile,
one cannot help wondering at the strange cap
rice of fortune which has preserved intact for
so many centuries the transitory occupations of
hands that had mouldered to the dust before the
English nation, properly so called, had come
into existence I ”
NEW MOTIVE POWER.
Tlfo discovery of a new motive power in Paris
has long been rumored abroad, and is it length
made public. It is hydro motive, oud w-ater
alone being, the agent of propulsion. The ben
efit to navigation is anticipated as being im
mense, doing away at once with the necessity
of coal and steam, which would enable vessels
to perform the longest voyages in an incredibly
short space of time. This system was submit
ted to the Emperor, so says the report, during
his sojourn in Italy, by the inventor, M. Cavanna,
and is but just completed in a manner satisfac
tory enough to be brought to Paris, where it is
about to be examined and criticised by the first
engineers of the day, and experiments are about
to be made at the expense of the government
The only danger at present anticipated by tbe
men of science summoned to experimentalise,
is that of creating too violent a rolling of the
vessel, as the water, through which it is made
to tear with such amazing force and swiftness,
is, first of all compelled to resistance in order to
propel its course, and then to yield in order to
allow a passage. The suvans ard practical men
of every branch of science are waiting with the
greatest impatience to learn the result of the
first experiment, which is to be made as privately
ns possible. The succes of this entirely new
machine will determine at once the fate of the
long established sovereignty of steam in naviga
tion, and the movement is felt to be one of the
most intense interest.
Tub Carolina Women op 1780.—The virtue
and magnanimity of the Charleston ladies, vies
with the Spartans of old. Nothing can equal
their adherence to the independence ol America.
The vanquishers strive all in their power to in
duce them to partake of their amusements, but
all their importunities cannot prevail upon any
of them to add a lustre to their balls, etc. They,
sensible of the distress to their (once happy)
country, seem to take no pleasure but in retir
ing from public view, to bemoan the cause of
suffering liberty. When nothing but tyrannical
destruction appears to be hovering over every
friend to freedom, they, like true heroines, dis
play an invincible firmness apd resolution.
Were the men half so steady to their country's
good as the w’omen, no nation could boast more
illustrious natives than Carolina. To the ever
lasting glory of the sex, many examples can be
adduced of ladies exhorting their dearest con
nections to behave with a becoming fortitude:
anxious for their honour, earnestly urging them
to perseverance, while they by a laudable econo
my are supporting their families. r
—
A travelilng Yankee lately put up at a
country inn, where a number of loungers were
assembled telling stories. After sitting some
time and attentively listening to their folly, he
suddenly turned and asked them how much
they supposed be had been offered for his dog,
which he bad with him. They all started, and
curiosity was on tiptoe to know. One guessed
five dollars, another ten, another fifteen, until
they had exhausted their patience, when one of
them seriously asked how much he bad been
offered. “ Not a darned cent," he replied.
*
/ i
91