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BSfiil OF THE VflTl tfllflTHf, SMS tfliiniilßH ISilll llifil Os ifJlilS Os Jlfilfllfl. JOHN 11. SEALS, l EDITOR & PROPRIETOR. NEW SERIES, VOL. 11. THHRM CIUIWH PC M.ISORO KVEHV THUKBMY. EXCEPT TWO, IS TH& VRAH, BY JOHN JFT. SEALS. T ERMS *, in advance; or s2,o'"'* at the end of tire year. RATIOS OF APTERTISINO. 1 square (twelve’ lines or le-) first insertion, - .$1 00 Each continuance, 50 Professional or Burin-s* Garda, not exceeding nix lines, per year,... 5 00 Announ-nng Candidates for STAN DING ADVERTISEMENTS. I square, three m0nth5,............ —.... 5 00 1 square, aix months, - 7 00 1 square, twelvemonths,—... ........12 00 2 squares, “ 44 ..................18 00 is squares, “ “ ..............- -..21 00 4 squares, “ “ ..25 00 %-W Advert i&ements not marked with the cumber of insertions, will l>e continued until forbid, and churned accordingly. ftffi" , Mere.hanfci. Druggista, and others, may con tract for advertising by the year, on reasonable terms. LEGAL ADVERTISEMENTS. * Sale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators, Executors, and Guardians, per square,... 500 %I qf Pergonal property, by Administrators, isxef-utors, and Guardians, per square, S 26 Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 8 25 Notice for Leave to Sell, 4 Oft Citation for Inters of Administration, 2 75 Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n. 5 00 Citation for Letters of Dismission from Gu&rdi ahsbip, 8 26 _ LEGAL EFGUHtICMLNTfi. skues of Land and Negroes, by Administrators, j Executors, or Guardians, are required by law to be j hold or. the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours a? ten in the forenoon and three in the after noeiu at the Court House in the Oouuty in which the property is situate. Notices of these sales must be given in a pqblic gazette forty day* previous to the day of sale. Notices for the sale of Personal Property must he given at least ter* days previous to the day of sale. hf.otipp tp Debtors and Cyeditore of an Estate must he published forty day*. Notice that application will bo made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to soli Land or Negroes, mart be published weekly lor tteo month*. Citations for Letters of Administration must be pubihihcn} ikinty days —for Lftamunon from Admin tatr&uott, monthly, sir. month*— for Dismission from G uardia ushi p, forty day*. ituiea for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub lished monthly for four months —for compelling titles front Executors or Administrators, where a bond has be-u given by the deceased, the full apace of three w -Publications will always be continued accord-1 ing to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwfao order tub For the Craa-tder. Lines on Receiving a Cape Jessamine. j [dehicated to the givf.r.] BV EMMIE EMERAU). Starry Mower, one of thy lovely kind Hath ever power to awaken dreams Now broken—and recall to mind Old days; at sight of thee my heart teems ♦Viih fond memories of the hallowed past i by gentle perfume steals o’er me e’en J-iko a siram of mournful music that—alas Saddens while it pleases, for ’tis the requiem Os funner joys, that shall n'er be again i ween. In the first glad spring time of my life One sunn} morn I held a pearly flower L'ke unto thee—a flower that to me was rife With more than earthly beauty and a dower Was, more precious far thqn heaps of shirffng gold j For oh, it was tho first sweet gift of love T'nto a heart that had not then grown old In sad experience, and valued high above All other things the tender joys of love. MKhinks that thev are happiest who weep o’er Clay cold forms, and grh-ve o’er ties wrenohed away Ay crUf ! fate; for human hearts are so Goiusiructed that to the meruory of the dead and lost, they Will ever cling, thus preserving in the heart the myrtle green Though bv tear-, it may he watered. Yet is it better to mourn o’er Hope’s withered and loved ones lost, than be like they who have seen Immortal love himself tfooay, and folt tho bitter throe That all must feel who know that they can love no more. Sweet broken flower, thou art ft fitting emblem Os human love—as beautiful and as fleeting Thou bloomed but yaster-morn upon thy parent stem The morrow’s evo will see thy leaves all fading, Yet with a faint perfume still lingering ’round them Like memory around hearts that once have loved But Asm by passion’s power no more be moved. Augusta, Ga. Tor the Crusader. Tench not the Bowl. U V JENNY WOODBINE. Touch not the bowl—no rosea twiue Around yon cup of ruby wine; Though bright its glow, shame and despair “Like light on graves” lie slumbering there. Touch not the bowl—a Mother’s prarer Is echoing sadly on the air— Oanet choose between her loce, and—wine! Say shall a drunkard's fate be tbune? Shall love decay e’en as the oak Li blasted by the lightning stroke— And shall the bowl the rival be Os her who blindly trusts in thee ? Ohl touch, tonch not the maddening bowl, Which “steals the brains” and dyes the soul With blackest crime—and blighte the flowers Which bloomed so sweetly in life's bowers. j With painted sign-board high in air, | Let not yon tempter lure thee there, ; To reel, and sing with drunken shout, Where men go in, but brutes come out Touch not the Howl—trer tasto ils wine, Though Mowers around the gobk-x twine, A mpent iie.tli coiled beneath A hideous thing whose nnne is— distil ‘ Bellevue,” Ga For Una Crusadw. Heart- History, or Leaves from “Bade Peters*’ Journal HY WILLIE JJ&SSAMINE. “Love is a poarl of purest hue “But storing waves are Vound it, v 'Aud dearly nuy a woman rne, “TUe hour when first she found it” U W hat in the tale that I would toll? Not one Os strange adventures, bu a common tale Os Man’s inconstancy.” My dear friend a when tins heart, now lacerat ed by the recollections of the past, shall have ceased to boat, then ponder over those leaves ami I earn the secret of my woe? And, when thou hast discovered its hidden cause, pity ray wayward ness, crime and folly. Perhaps there may be some, w’ho with me, have “one fatal rememberanee -—one sorrow that throws its bleak shade nlike o’er his joys and his woes,” but, I doubt, if it is j caused by crime so deep as mine ? As I trace | these leaves my limbs become tremulous with emotion, and memory evokes from the Sepulchre of tho past, the victim of my first Jove! Ohl is there no Lethean Spring iu wliich I oouid bathe myself and obliterate the past? Is there no Egyp tian darkness m which I could hide myself from thought? ’Thought, a biessii gto some —to me a curse! Thought, bow 1 deplore thy existence? Would that I could cease to think—but I can not!. But to rny crime. “How the spirit clings to that which once it loved.” Her form and features I shall ne’er forget, they are indelibly stomped upon “the enduring tablets of memory.” She was a tall and graceful form ed brunette. Her eyas were black and piercing and such the potency of their spell, that the be holder would willingly, but durst not, vtroot from their gaze. Her hair black us the raven’s wing, fell in beautiful ringlets upton her nook and sliould •:rs. Lively in person— she was still lovelier in re .-raws of mind. Site was mild and amiable, cheerful and devoted, graceful and accomplished, and ardent, in her attachments. Yes, such whs Frances Graves. JLpw aqq vyhpu wo met it : b.4es not. But we met and—loved. We laved, yea, madly loved. She was “gay sixteen” and I in manhood’s youthful flush. All the passions of her soul seemed u> concentrate into one current, and nothing proa {Ki h barrier to its onward pro gress. I loved her, ardently, devotedly and (as I then thought) sincerely. 1 loved her, big not with the fpryqr t];at she reciprocated it, for that were impossible—it were beyond my nature. — Little did I then think that i should ever be tore od to acknowledge that “Our first young lovo resembles “That short am! brilliant ray, “Which smileg and weeps and trembles, ’‘Through April’s earliest day.” We were melancholy when apart, joyous and j happy when in each others presence.. Twus not long ere the promised, yes, was the ro-ponse to tho thrilling enquiry: “Will you unite your fate with mine,” Hope crowned our future with un fading wreaths, and happiness seemed written on our pathway. Six months would intervene, be fore 1 c >uid call her-—wife, and she assumed its duties and privileges. But for six months would we be separated; a long-deferred visit to an es teemed aunt in Carolina has to be paid, ere tho blissful time arrived. But hop# ehy rod and animated us. Ere we separated—ere the last j tond embrace—ere the parting kiss —did we re new our vows. I .tit le did I then know the base ness of my own heart, or of the deception hidden there. 1 not only deceived her, but I deceived myself. The sigh breath’d farewell was uttered. “D<> not forget me” was her parting prayer* — “May Heaven s retribution fail upon my guilty soul, if I forget thee, or prove recreant to our vows,” was my response. She left, and the Sun that had illuminated the inmost reco-aes of mv heart, though fled, lost none of its power. My imagination seemed to dwell with her. She was die great centra! Sun of my nxi itence, around which, I, as a lesser Satellite, revolvo.l ? Scarceiv a mail arrived or departed, but was laden with some sweet message of love, to or from each oth ea. Oh 1 what transports filled my breast, when I received from her, “the herald of her thoughts” a letter. It maddened me with rapture * * * ******** A change came over me. The Demon of doubt entered, and took possession of my brain. Sought I consolation from friend, they would soothe me with “woman’s false as water.” Sought I the Toets for consolation, I would find them proclaim ing “woman’s vows like words engraven on the sandy beach.” Where’er I sought consolation I would find woman esteemed as fickle and incon stant. I not only doubted Acr love, bub J began to doubt my own. I doubted nod I was lost.— PENFIELI). GA, THURSDAY, JULY 9, 1857. Her Letters, though breathing affection in every line, I answered not. Thy appeared deeper proofs of her inconstancy. Desperation succeeded doubt. I tried to flee from myself. I deserted compan ions, friends, residence, and sought “a lodge in Home ‘an wilderness some ofshade” where I might ne’er behold the face of man or woman more. I found h dre.uy place “far from the busy haunts of man,” and embraced its shel ter. II ere I wandered for mouths unconscious of passing events and tlie future. I knew nothing for madness had succeeded desperation. ******* When I awoke to consciousness, Iliad Ijeen the inmate of a Lunatic Asylum for nearly three rnontlih. The keeper informed me of the terrible condition Iw; in, wheu I was discovered, I was without clothing of any description. Every pur- Bcle of hair upon my head I had torn out by the roots. My finger mob-had grown to an enormous length, I made both day and night hideous by my loud ami uneajtldy yells. Wild beasts fled in terror at my approach. My captors had to fight valiantly to secure me. 1 yielded but to su perior numbers. To me the past w?*s like a dream. Gradually recollection retumed, and witii it, bitter pangs of remorse. Soon I recovered so as to enable me to bid adieu to the Asylum. I launched out into the gayeties of life, but it eb; trined me not. Beauty possessed no power o’er j me, for u onw, my heart was warm with everv feeling, but beau tie’s self had ceased to charm,” a w retch like me. One day, on visiting the post-office, I found a letter addressed to me, and dated several months previous. It was from her, clothed in affection’s purest language and beseeching me to come quick ly if I desired to see her before she left this “vale of tears.” Yes, she was dying of a—broken heart. Her pure affection had been ruthlessly driven back to its native fountain. Yes, with “peace lost and heart withered,’ she on a bed of suffering lay, slowly ripeuing for the tomb. Yes, “a sweet light had been cast upon her life, but to make its darkness the more terrible.” Yet, she had sent ter the author of all her misery and suffering to see her Indore she died. fob 1 what anguish wrung my soul, as I thought that on; this, she bad been numbered with the dead. 1 determined to pay a pilgrimage, at laast, to her tomb, and water her grave with tears of penitence, Fprlng was then in all her glory, a thousand flowers spread out by the benificeut hand of God charmed trie eye and breathed their fragrance up on the air. The Earth was robed in a mantle of’ the richest green', and all nature appeared joyous and happy. The choral songsters of the grove from their sylvan retreats sent forth a chaunt of gladness and of praie. Ail appeared in striking contrast to me. 1 felt desolate and wretched, and the general happiueas but cast a deeper, duiker glow over me. I arrived ere it was too late. But I was not prepared for the sight of suffering that met mv gaze. Pale and languid she lay, while the sunk en cheek the lustreless eye, and hurried resjiimbou attested the near approach of the grim monster. Oh! I have not strength to describe my feelings j at that moment Teat's tilled my eves as l fell upon my knees, and with tremulous voice, asked her “canst thou Forgive a wretch like me?”— Though feeble in its articulation yet her response came like a my of sunshine through a misty cloud upon my soul. Oh 1 how joyously did I linger upon her, “yes, I forgive thee, dearest” l talked witii her of the past, of my crime apd folly.— “Will you not. live fur me,” 1 asked with clicked utterance. *\)h! diflt I could — but the fiat has gone forth and 1 must die ere the rising of anoth er sun. I feel the cold, icy hand of death now upon my brow, and, chilling every vein.” “Oh! say not tints” I wildly cried. “Father in Heaven, for thy beloved Son’s sake, spare her yet awhile” 1 prayed. Calling me close to her tadside, she whispered “dearest do not repine—for it must be so, Igo from a world of pain and trouble and suffering, to a worid of bliss and pleasure, where I shall see those that have gone before—the “Saints of all ages” clothed in spotless white, I shall meet and t>e surrounded by the light and glo ry’ of that “ Land of pure delight” I know in whom 1 have placed my trust. I heed not the approach of death, for it has no sting for me.— Vee, Jesus l 'has made my dying bed, feel soft as downy pillows are.” Farewell —farewell—seek God—obtain his pardon—place your hope upon the finished Work of Ilis Sou —and meet —me — in—Heaven.” Thus she sank to rest at the dose of day. Heaven was her theme ;s she expired. The sun was hiding himself behind the Western horizen, while his departing glory tinted the dra pery of the skies with carmine and with gold.— He departed in magnificence and splendor. How like the death of the beautiful maiden. Both were fading. He surrounded by the brilliancy of h’sown light She radiant with joy of Heavenjy bliss, while the Sun of Righteousness illuminat ed her pathway and shed a halo of, immortal glo ry around her death-bed. She died in the midst of Spriug, and breathed her last mJN Finger op- on the Dial of Time proclaimed another day niun - bored with the past I saw her remains placed in the receptacle for the dead, and planted- flowers upon her grave, watering them with team of affection and peni tence! I resolved to obey her parting wish. I sought God and found him preeieous to my souk ******* My friends, take warning by my exnmp’e and never betray the trust reposod in you by some gentle one. Believe not the idle tale of woman’s inconstancy'. I nave bud unerring proofs of her strong, unchanging truth. You had better with Fanny Kemble— “Trust all and be- deceived, “And weep this trust and that deceiving, ‘Than doubt one heart, that, if believed, “Had blessed one’s life with true believing. “Oh! this mocking world —too fast “The donbting fiend o’ertakes our youth I “Better be cheated to the last, “Thau lose the blessed hope of Truth.” Remember that “it is not all of life to live,” and live to be an ornament to Society—cot like me Creation’s foulest blot—a blank. Augusta, Ga. Elassa CaretJi for Me, A True Sketch. BY KTRK ; Another of Eternity's Hope , Ac. It was a dreary night; one that will long be remembered in the city of Philadelphia. The stormy elements raged a tearful warfare with un paralleled fury. A besom of and eolation swept over the cite, and ihe affrighted citizens trembled with fear. Tho heavetik put on a dull g-ey garment, and the qu verirg lightning sported fearfully iu tho dim horizon, hhowers ofgrav. 1 and sand were whirled in dense clouds in ev, ry direcrion. The gambler, who had pledged his last dollar, gazed wildly as he held the park of cards in hfe trembling hands; the drunkard became almost a sober man ; the sinner, who for three score yea is or more had revelled in the midst of plea-tire and rioted in the halls of dissipation, became fearfully alarmed ; the wealthy merchant, who lov and his conn ing-rootn better than his Creator, gasned eonvu sively iu the mid-t of a long column < f fl<y ures, as lie shuddered to appear bes. re his Judge ; tiio woildlv preacher, prejiaring a sermon which he intended to deliver on the coining Sabbath with much eloquence to a crowded auditory, fell to his knees, lasliod by the sfcmgs of a guilty conscience I Butin the midst of all this woe, and ruin, and dis may—when lofty trees, and splendid churches, and vast store-houses were tumbling iu ruins, was tlu re no bright spot, no rejoicing? Hark ! In a narrow street, through a dismal court, within a tottering doorway, and up three pairs of rough, rotten stairs, from the confine! walls of an old building, a voice, low and ft eh], is heard. A poor colored woman—one of God’s creature-', who r ftimes are sold as if tlrey were brutes—is in that room. She is there on her bended knees, with God’s word before her. Is she alarmed?— Doth terror strike her dumb; are her lips motion less ; is her tongue palsied with tear ? Listen ! Methinks I hear a song—a sweet song, as it trembles upon the night wind— “And let this feeble body fail. And itt it taint or die, M soul shall quit this mournful vale, And soar to worlds on high.” Do you bear that song, sung there in that quaint chamber-home, while the heavens above are of inky blackness and the earth beneath secure rocked in the lap of the Storm King? The old negre>a fears not, “Why should she . She lias built her house upon u rock, and now ti e winds blowq the storm frown*, the hurricane sweeps all before it, still she—God’s humble chi id—uuterri fied, sings on. IJappy woman, how we envy you. Oh, Lad we such a peace. Listen once mere—the song is finished, and behold! now she praye h. Give heed to the closing words of that prayer, uttered in the simple, unadorned language of a child of Africa. “l)is chile fear no el il, fur massa careth fur her.” Is that true? Tell me ye man of wealth whose ship wonder over the broad bosom of tlie mighty deep ; tell me ye miser who loves to he.tr the rattle of your yellow gold ; tell me ye profli gate whose sole purjx>se is tlie barter of female virtue, is it true; is it? Does God, the mighty Ruler of the Universe, as he now rides upon the stormy blasts care for that lone negress ? Oh yes, yes. I read it in my Bible. I learn tlm tru:h every where: “He careth for every one of the creatures He has made.” A Sod Story of an Erring Young Man . —Wo have already mentioned in the Journal, the suicide of a young man named Poindexter, formerly of Lexington. From Captain Sullivan, of the States man of which steamer the nrfoitunate victim of iuteroperaT.ee leaped to find a grave for all his er rors beneath the placid Ohio, we learn that Poin dexter called him aside on the guards of the boat, placed a ring and note iu his band, wert aft and immediately disappeared overboard. The follow ing is the note: Farewell, father and mother, brother and sister, lam tired oi rny life, Benjamin Franklin Weigh ert, the penitentiary thus from Lexiigion, Ky., is the cause ol this. Good bye friends. A. N. POINDEXTER. Lexington, Ky. My youngest brother, beware of your campany, and the bottle. We have scarcely ever Reen anything of more touching simplicity. It is the dying wail of a bro ken heart—the last pulse of shattered manhood— solemn woixls of warning from the very portal of the tomb—the “good bye” of an affectionate child to parents who had nestled his infancy and nur turn! his boyhood, and hoped great and noble thingsqof his manly eontest in the battle of life. .The friends of the deceased can obtain the ring and note at this office.*—’ LmisvilU Journal, **te • Tho Man of Pleasure. The following graphic portrait of the “Man of Pleasure” is token from u sw moo on ‘‘Christian Manhood,” doivered in New York Ly Rev. Mr. Cuyfer: “I trust lit at no young mao here will need to be warned against'that wretchedly fak-idea of “rnan hoid” which re so rife in certain circles of this million-peopled city. The counterfeit manhood of an oath and a cigar—a bottle of brandy, and a pack of cards—a box in the theater, and a bet on the rooe course. Hundreds of young men are constantly aspiring to such badges of social noldlb ty as these ! ou may see ambitious youths, or der.ng, with consequential swagger, their wine suppen? at the fashionable ‘hells.’ You may de tect thorn at-the ra*dnig>t hour pulling the belle of haunts of infamy, and whispering false name* through the iron lattice; you may discover an in fidel book in their trunks, locked* up with an ob scene picture, a revolver, a sporting calendar, and —no Bible, “Young women’ beware of Buch social serpents as these. They will enter your houses as their father entered Edm, on y to seduce and destroy. New York has her full share of these characters • tiiev p*es for ‘men of gallantry,’ ‘men of spirit,’ ‘intn of pleasure.’ “Every row and tlren there is a tremendous ex- plode?) in our community, which b’ows off the covering and lets us a’l look in upon the rotten heflrt of n certain style of city life. During the last week we have all been looking in with loath ing and with consternation. We hare stood in the chamber whose walls were bespattered with blood, aid have seen the bitter end of a career which cast off tho sw*-et restraint of domestic pu rity for the polluting carcass of the ‘strange wo man.’ We have seen a remarkable cluster gath vi-ed around that corjrse amid hysterical tears and ill timed merriment, “We have seen the unblushing courtezan testi f\ing against the‘man of pleasure,’ who had flung her aside for other spoil; the officer of justice swearing to scenes of broil and bitterness in a ’ house where God s law of marriage bad been tram pled under foot, u<i amid such surroundiuga we can descry some tet fresh from the family altar of a rural home. Who did that deerl of darkness is vet a painful rmsterj ; but it ia quite too eer t in that there had been foul murder done to con science and to char icter within those walls long before tlie garrotter's noose was slipped and the assassin’s p igcard driven to the heart. Heaven save y* u, my dear young friends, from the hrmn hood’ of ibertinism ! And Heaven save our great metropol's, win nis Brussels carpets come to be stained with blood, and the quiet of i*B stateliest stre ts is broken by the midnight shriek of mur der !” Adulterated Liquors. The reeeut death of a young man in Brampton, Canada, from tasting the “essence of brandy,” with which he was manufacturing Cognac, and therev e’atiuii of the fact that fttnclu iire is largely used in tlie manufacture of whisky, has awakened some attention to the nature of the.drinks which are sold for pure spirits. Brandy, g'n wine and wdiis ky are so adulterated that comparatively little pure liquor can be purchased. Most < f the bran dies are a mixture of diabolical ingredients, caus tic enough to barn oak chips, to say nothing of the tissues of the human body. The Springfield Republican says: “No secret is made of tills business. The dnig deah-rs of New- York advertise openly the com pounds by means of which tire vile imitations of spirituous liquors are made. A circular from one of those drug houses informs the world that bran dv number one—the best sort, we take it—is made of the ‘oil of brandy.’ a poisonous ether, oil of bitter almond*, (as poisonous as prussic acid) ethereal wine, alcohol, sugar and Malaga wine.— No. 2. Oil ot brandy, acetic ether tamarinds, cher ty jifice, sugar, all colored with burnt sugar.— No. 3. Gil of brandy, ethereal oil, bitter almonds, elder flowers, and tannin. No. 4. Oil of brandy, acetic ether, 01, peach and alcohol. Gin—Oil angelica, oi! of jumper rum, essence of lemon, salt, syrups, and water; if smokiness is required, add a few drops of craxotte, caustic potash. The cirular advises manufacturers to use ‘with discretion’ tain arinefe, French plums, cherry juice,, brown cherry, oak shavingq, tincture of catechu, powdered char coal, black tea, ground rice and other ordinary’ materials, well known to distillers and rectifiers.— We should advise drinkers to use th&sft villainous mixtures with discretion—and throw them into tlie gutter.” The adulteration of liquors is carried on as large ly abroad as in this country, and the custom-house brand is no gitaran’y of purity Thousands of pipes of raw spirits are annually exported from this country to be returned in the shape of wine, brandy, <fcc„ which contains not a trace of grape juice. A Child's Eloquence. —During a revival in home full of what she had seen and heard. Sit ting at table witii the family, she asked her father, who had been to Church, but was a very wicked man, whether he ever prayed. lie did not like the question, and in a vrv angry manner replied, “It is your mother, rr your aunt Sally, that put you up to that, my 1 tile giri.” “No papa,” said the little cie dure, “the preacher said, all the good peofle prey, and those who do not pray, ain’t going to Heaven. Pa, do you pray ? This was more than her father cou’d stand, and in a rongh way he said, “We’l, you and your mother, and your aunt Sally, may g-> your way, and I will go mice.” “Pa,” said the little creature whh sweet simplicity, “which wav are you going?” This question pierced his heart. It flariied upon him that he was in the way of death. He started from his chair, burst inlo tears, and immediately began to cy for mercy. Within a few days he was a happy convert, and IheVevehe will appear in heav en as a star in his little daughter’s crown of re jotciog. C TERMS: 1 $1 In advance* or, $2 at the end of the year. < OO f JOHN H. SEALS V PROPRIETOH. VOL XXIIL-NOMBER 28. Thomas Earrrington Macon ley. — Mr. Reah. the London correspondent—of the Inverness, says: “There ia a common pedestrian of London streets well known to all who are acquainted with thejr notabilities. He is a short* stout, sturdy, energetic man. He has a big, round face, and large, staring and very bright hazel eyes. His hair is eut shorr, and his hat flung back on the crown of h>s h ead. His gait is firm and decided, with a little touch of promposity. “He is ever provided with an umbrella, which he swings and flourishes, and battles on the pay ment with mighty thnbs. He seems g nera Iv ab sorbed io exciting and impulsive thought, the tracea of which he takes no pains to cone al. 11 is face works, his lips move and mutter, his eyes gleam and flash. Sqcat as in h!s fligure, and u< t particularly fine thefeatures, there is an uninistake abie air of mental power and energy, approach rg to grandeur, about the man. lie is evidently under the influence of the strong excitement of fiery thought. People gaze curiously at him, and st< p to stare when he has passed, but he 1 eeds no one—seems, indeed, to have utterly forgot:eu that he is not alone in his privacy, and pushes on, un witting of the many who Btare and smile, or < f the few who 6tep respei-tfully aside, and look with cu riosity and regard upon Thomas Barrington Mi. cauley. Occasionally, however, the hi tori ,n an<l tfo po t gives srill freer vent to the mental imp Us w. i h appear to be continually wotk ng win,in hi i*. A friend of mine lately recogmzed him timing re tire coffee-room of the Travalgar Ho.tl. at Gr en wich—a fashionable white bait-home, which ii ap pears, he frequently patronizes. IU was alone, as he generally is, and the attention of more than o ie of the company was attracted by his p cul ar mu'- teringand fidgetiness, and by the n u'e ge tmes with which he ever and anon illus'rate hi- diemi inf*. All at once—it must been *oaeds ] tht ciimax of the prose or ver>e which he s v., rhir-g np in his mind, Mr. M,.chu ! >- , seized -i m .* Bive decanter, held it an oirnnt su feixlel tr the sir, and then dashed it down upon tie table with such hearty good w 11, that the solid crystal tlew abont in fragrmnts, while the num rous parties dining round instinctively started up and stared at the curious sconoclast. Not a whit put < ut, however, Mr. Macauley, who was well known t> the waters, ca led loudly for his hill to be made out at the bar, and then, pulling with a couple of jerks, his hat and umbrella from the stand, clapped the one carelessly on his head, and strode out tlour i.-diing the other.” A Beautiful Chwsicol Allunion. Mr. Wiri throp, of Massachusetts, in his tulduss *t the Mti sicial Festival in Boston last week, allude* to die contemplated submarine telegraph in th.se wr.tds: “On Christmas Eve, in the tear 1814, ti e Trea ty of Pence between England and the L iit.il States was sign.d at Ghent—a won by commem oration of that blessed event, when the"!lerald An gels were heard sirgit g to the shepheids on the plains of Beibl-hem, ‘Peace on earth, good will towatds men.” But that Meaty wa uoikroen on this side of the ocean f r s x < r ‘even weehs af ter the date. The gnat bat le of N w Orleans, as you well know, was fought at least two we.k*f ter that treaty of peace was sign and. Onr m d> rn system of railroads and steamers and telegraphs might, have t-av.d that effusion of fraternal l>!< od —might have deprived individual her e<, our country of its history, of all the gl- n which Itelonged to that really great victory. If that gi gantic Ocean Harp, which is at tins moment in process of being strung, whose d.ep and apas-on is des ined to produce a more manual music on the sea than mythol gy or modern fable ever ascrib. and to siren, mermaid, or Arion ; if the mysterious gi mut of that profound submarine chord had been in succes-ful operation then, as we hpe it *oon will be, between St. Jehn sand Valetine Bay, tbo e cotton-bag ramparts at New Orlettns rn'g-.t never have been celebrated in history; while of ilio-e who so gallantly defended them many would have boen laid so low, and some peihaps would not have risen so high.” 4> The Drop of Water, the Brook , the Hirer, and the Ocean —A drop of water, that sparkled like a jewel in the sun, once fell from the clouds in a lit tle mountain stream, and ere it lost its identity,, ex claimed in all the angnish of desolation, “A! is l what a catastrophe. lam swallowed up in im mensity.” The stream laughed, as it leaped down the mountain side, at the lamentation ot such an insignificant thing as a drop of water, and vain of its consequence, continued brawling its crystal way with all the pride of conscience superiority, ui.tl length, with a sudden plunge, it fell headlong tnto a mighty river, and hke the drop of water, was lost in a moment, crying our in its last agonies, **o fate, who would have thought a brook of mv size could be swallowed so easily!” The’ rivtr murmured its contempt for the little foolish stieam, and continued its course, gathering strength and pride, and breaking through mountains, tearirg rocks from their seats, and coursing in a thousand meanders through flowery meadows, until it found its way to the vast and melancholy ocean in whose boundless waste it lost its being, like the moi.Uin stream. “Is itposible, exclaimed the mighty river, that I have been thus collecting tribute from half the world, only to become not lung at last ?” “’Tis thus with tl cental)!’ Th< u begiunest in insignificance, like the drop of water; tb< u 1- comeßt a laughing, leaping, brawling thing like the brook, thou waxo-t proud and gr. a*, like the mighty river; and ere thou canst sty, in th- v-n ---ity of thy heart, “whatan i lustrtiou-* mortal I am,’ thou art in eternity; MPAlpbonze Kar alleges that epochs in a wo man’s life are frequently marked by dress. Women vvisl, for instance, often say that such a thing hap pened when they bought a particular article of cos tume. Thus: “I recollect perfectly well when Mrs. .torn* took her third husband; Charles gave me my ermine tippet at that time.” Mrs. W Hiatus was bap tized and confirmed just one year ago last January, for l bought my blue velvet dress that month.”— “Old Mrs. Pope died last Wednesday six monthp, for I got my oamel’s-hair shawl on the day of the funeral.”