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• * 1 . *■ ymßs j. >.tii:\kii.Kitrroii.; 3 (iolffl|li! journal:—ilflioteii to literatim, Jolitits, iwlijion anil 3fgriniltnrc. j«.a.iiinGu, 4 YOU'MB 1. INDEPENDENT PRESS. f , futtisfcsd every Tuesday morning. TERMS. 9 TWO 1)01*1. AUS por annum in sdbrance to ait not f i Adiug Ktitr. County. S Rate| es Advertising.—Loyal adv.-rtisomonts insert od § u Uio following terms' {Letters G' Citation. <52 ;,0 \ Kotte • LvDeisL**-? ;vnd Creditors. ,'i 00 AppLoiule» Tor leave to sell land or negroes, 1 00 •of Personal Property, by Executors. Administrators or Guardians, :: 50 Sale of Lands or S. ogroes. by same, 5 00 Application for letters of Dismission, 4 50 , Yearly Advertisements.— gijxesaonal and Rasuues varcKmoSsunnig- f wolve lines or less will be i insert'd at Twelve Dollars. Otter Advertisements will be charged $1 00 for . vert twelve lines or less, for lirst insertion, and 50 ets to even- weekly continuance. Avertisements, not having the number of insor tionsparked upon them, will l>e published till forbid | and 4arged accordingly. |listtllantoiis. BB For The Independent Press. MNpII POETS AM) POETRY P 'RKVIors To rii.N IVKIi. p ; 4fK English language is n branch : ■ iff Ufeiitouie, the language ol“ the in ™ habrvts of central Europe before the «law|*£ history. Its brothers from the iKimti-rent are the Banish, Butch and jCre.'.ii languages. It was introdue- j . Ik'd it England in the fifth century by | J She Iglo-Saxons, and gradually dis j language of the Aboriginees p |is til conquerors gained power, and p f)bt:iil{ full possession of the island. I | live centuries the Anglo-Saxon ■ .sexpeiced no change, except by an i ■ jfpsqHm from the Latin of the Monks. -1* till the letters and till the learn .•■||l4jtyi»ands. of an <> • ■asioiia! Icnn. word. During the eighth •cenitik'/, books were considerably multi •plied by the exertions of these Monks, by whospiidlnonce learning extended to the uppdrMasses of the laity. During this period an abundance of political, relig ious and narrative poetry was written both in the language of Rome, and in the vernacular tongue. Gildas and Nennius are two of I the earli-*st names of the Anglo-Saxon ® writers. The former was said to be the i author of a Latin tract on early British history, and the latter of another small historical work. Even the persons of i these two writers, however, are now j consider l quite apocryphal. St. CouwriJANUS, a native of Ire- , land, who died in Old, was the first Anglo-Saxon writer, about whose exist ence there can be no question. lie wrote, as did his predecessors, in the Latin tongue. No one composed in the i native tongue. It was despised by the literary class, as was the case at a later period, and none ImT' Latin langu age was .considered worthy of trans l mitting to posterity the thoughts of •candidajg*for immortality, and of those wjvr sought to wear the honors of the U*)fvine art of poetry. W C.edmon, a monk of Whitby, who f -died in 680, was the first Anglo-Saxon j I .of note who asserted the dignity of his native tongue, and demonstrated the fit k ness of his vernacular to weave the mag ic wreath of poesy. One of nature’s noblemen, he needed not to be instruct ed by education, in order to compose poetry. Like Burns, a kindred genius, he might have sung, " Give me a spark o’ nature's fire, That's all the learning I desire.” Like Burns he sprang from the common people, having at onetime acted as cow herd, and like Caledonia’s brightest bard, he rejected all other languages, and 1 wrote in his “ rnither tongue." Bede narrates the developement of r Caedmon’s poetic talent, with a strong tinge of the marvellous. It was the custom in the Anglo-Saxon hall, at sup per, for each person to sing in turn, and jiJiompany his voice with the tones of the harp. So little had Caedmon learn ed of poetry, according to the above ; L that when the harp was push* iLirtowards him, he had to retire in or 'KT to hide his shame. On one of these Hgbasions he went from the hall to watch, stable-door. There, Bcearicd withJ^'ox at ion and chagrin, he s oon fell aslee|P> when a being appeared , and said, “Caeflraott, sing me something. 1 u -l khow not Jwhat to sing,” was his re- J ply; “for mylincapicity, in this respect, i v/as’tte cause/my leaving the hall to P come fith erf “Nay s said the strang er hast something losing. J “ Wha%Just I sing?” said Caedmon, “feirig tie creation,” was the reply.— •Vnd thereupon he sang verses which h» had never heard before. When he awoke, he was able to repeat the lines already sung. and. to go on with the riem Next morning he went to the rJLve or Bailiff of Whitby, and told 'Mix had happened the night before.— immediately carried to the Ab 4fl9T Hilda, and a caucus of learned yH'l declared that he had received the poetry from heaven. They ex- Bounded to nim a portion of the scrip xHire jn his native tongue, and required plra its versification. This lie per fectl*l so well, tliat the Abbess pre -1 v ■fc/iiLon him to become a monk of f t He became a very volurn -1 in'Fs writer and wrote in verse many I bible histipru'B, and a.so poems on mis* C ccllapeoust • subjects, many of which I survive t<» oU r day. He was continu* I ally \ n mpeaf' ng to liimself 1 what ke|} iea nl, M., says Wright, in J his " , Literaria” j y :'\i'w a it, he \\ e will here give our readers the verses which, according to Bede, were sung by (sedition to the stranger, on the night during which be watched at the stable-door. The specimen may serve as a general one of Anglo-Saxon poetry. Modern letters are substituted for those peculiar characters employed in that language to express/7o dh and v. Nu wr scoolun hcriau, lleofon-ricos weard, Metodes milito, And his mod-ge tJusic . Wera. wuldor t'a’dCT: • Swa ho wundra ge-hvvafs, Ece ihyhten Cord onstealde. Ila ajrest ge-sceop Ylda boarnum . Ifeofon to lirofb Hallg sevppend! Tha middan-geard Mon-cynnes weard, Ike dryhton, Aefter teodo. Firum foldan, Frea selmihtig. TRANSLATION. Now we shall praise The guardian of heaven. The might of the Creator And his counsel, The Glory-lather of men. How he of all wonders The Eternal Lord Formed the beginning, lie lirst created For the children of men Heaven as a roof, The holy Creator. Then the world The guardian of mankind, The Eternal Lord, I ‘reduced afterwards— The earth for men, The almighty master! It will be observed that in Anglo- Saxon, the verse is neither in measur ed feet, like Latin verse, nor vet in rhyme, as in English. The sole pec uliarity, says Mr. Wright, is a very reg ular alliteration , so arranged that in every couplet there should be two prin cipal words in the line beginning with the same letter, which letter must also be the innitial of the first word on which the stress of the voice falls m the sec ond line. Caedmon’s account of the Fall of Man, resembles that given in Paradise Lost. And Milton almost seems to have plagiarised one scene of his epic from one in Caedmon's poem, detailing Satan’s speech after his recovery from the con sternation of defeat. Here is a trans lation of the passage alluded to: Boiled within him His thought about his heart: Ilot was without him His dire punishment. Then spake he words: This narrow place is most unlike That other that we formerly knew High up in Heaven’s kingdom, Which my master bestowed on me, Though we it, for the All-powerful. May not possess. We must cede our realm; Yet hath he not done rightly, That he hath struck us down : To the fiery abyss Os the hot hell, Bereft us of heaven’s kingdom-p Hath decreed To people it With mankind. That is to me of sorrows the grptest That Adam Who was wrought of earth Shall possess My strong seat; That it shall be to him in delight Misery in this hell. And we endure this torment, — Oil had I the power of my hanclj :!s * * * Then with this host I But around me lie Iren bonds; Presseth this cord of chain; I am powerless! Me have so hard The clasps of hell So firmly grasped! Here is a vast fire Above and underneath. Never did I see A loathlier landskip; The flame abateth not, Hot over hell. Me hath the clasping of those rieigs, This hard polished band Impeded in my course, Debarred me from my way. My feet are bound, My hands manacled; Os these hell-doors are The ways obstructed; So that with aught I cannot From these limb-bonds escape. About me lie Huge gratings Os hard iron. Forged with heat With which me God Hath faatriod by the neck. Thus perceive 1 that he kuoweth my ilnd, And that he knew also The Lord of hosts That should us through Adam Evil befall, About the realm of heaven, Where I had power of my hands. It is useless to give the larallcl passage in Milton. The reader is too familiar with it. He cannot fail to per ceive, however, the similarity I 'tween the two passages. And if Milk n ever read the poem from which the a love is extracted, as it is probable a rriai of his learning did, we do not doubt h ■ made Caedmon’s description, iu this scene, the basis of his own, however much ie may have improved upon the origin! I. At the same time it cannot be denied, that there is a good deal of sublimit) in the Anglo-Saxon’s description. The char acteristic baldness and simpli tty of Greek poetry is also character itic of (M’dmon’s poem. C.edmon stands forth as alrr Ist the sole representative of Anglo-Sa: on po etry, He died as has been befc. ir* suit ed, in 680. After him come % few names of inferior note, in Angle Saxon literature, filling up the chasm b tween his day and that of the “ ve; -ruble Bede ” —such as Alohelm, abbot f Mal mesbury, Ceolfrid, abbot of Wear mtith and Felix of Croyland. Thes were writers who neglected their 'ow i tong ue, and employed that of the 1 tin.JL. Bede, who died* in 785, though ofmueh j more note than any of the foiLohm was also a p .yso using tb kLatm | tongue. Then came Aline, arch-bish op of Canterbury, who did like wise. lie died iu 1006. Cynewulf, bishop of NY inchesler, NY ulfstan, arch bishop of N ork, and some others bring down the. list, of -Anglo-Saxon authors to the Conquest. Most, of these are writers in prose. NN’e mention them in cidentally, as we coniine ourselves most ly to writers of poetry. The Anglo- Saxon portion of English literature, ex tends, properly speaking, over a period of only about 500 years, though it. in some sense, had a protracted existence, | until the breaking up of the language ;in the 12th century. It was, however j graced by no names of note, after those j mentioned above. After the Conquest, which estab ; lished a Norman King, and Norman no bility upon the shores of England, the Norman French became the language of the law courts in England and of the upper classes generally. The Anglo- Saxon tongue shared the same indig nity as did those who spoke it. It was still the vehicle of communication be tween the masses, however, and main j tained a stout resistance to the language of the invaders. Finally, in the course of the 12th century, it underwent con j siderable changes. Its sounds were greatly altered, its terminations and in flections changed, and the pronunciation of its sylables cut short. The words themselves were lost in these many changes, which Br. .Johnson supposes affected the Anglo-Saxon language more than the introduction of new words, un til, in the first half of the loth century, it was more difficult for the people of that time to understand the original language, than it is for us to understand Chaucer. Thus was a foundation laid for the present English, a rich compound of all the wealth of the Anglo-Saxon, Latin, Norman French and (more latelv) Grecian, tongues. Before the invasion of England by William, considerable attention had been paid to writings poetry by French au thors. The language iu which they composed was called the liomane , be cause it was a corruption or dialect of the Roman. This was again divided in to the Northern and Southern dialects. The Southern was popularly called the Provencal. The Northern was called the French , and that particular dialect, afterwards used in England, was styled the Anglo-Norman. ’The Provencal po ets were styled, in their own tongue, trobadores , o r troubadours. In the North ern language the same word was used to christen the poets, but it was written trouveres. The Provencal poets became very elegant and courtly in their versi fication, while the Normans were plain er and more pointed, and became even more celebrated than the Troubadours of the South. The Norman poetry, which flourished in England after the Conquest, was as much the production of authors in France as of those upon the island. It, however, forms a link in the chain of English poetry which must not be overlooked. Maistre Wage seems to be the chief representative of this era of what may be termed Fhn/lish poetry; though written in the French, language. About 1160 he wrote a narrative poem, entitl ed Le Prut U An<jkterre, or Brutus of England. The plot of the poem is quite a fanciful one. The hero was a son of Aeneas, who is represented to have founded the British Empire many cen turies before the Christian era. But this idea was not original with NVa.ee, for a monk called Geoffrey of Monmouth, had already written in Latin what he termed a, history, tracing the affairs of Britain through a dynasty of Trojan kings, beginning with Brutus, son of Aeneas, and ending with Oadwallader, 689 B. C. This history is a remarkable work, and not only served as the basis for NN ace’s poem, but was the rich store house from.which many writers of ro mance drew th<» materials for their thrill ing narratives. And even at a later date, it was a fountain from which many of our noblest poets drew inspiring draughts. From it. Shakespeare, got the istory of Lear, Sackvfile that of Ferrex and Porrex , while Drayton re-prodnces rnm-.h of it in his Pohjotbion, and Milton and many others, have allusions to it in their productions. NY ace wrote several other works besdes the above poem. Benoit was a contemporary with YVaee. He wrote a History of the Dukes of Normandy. Guernks, an ecclesiastic of Pont St. Maxcenee in Picardy, wrote a met rical life of Thomas a Beckett. These two poets are the only ones worthy of being mentioned, with Wace, in'connec tion with the development of English literature and poetry. They wrote most frequently in rhymed couplets, line containing eight syllables. The follow ing is a short, specimen of this kind of poetry. It is from YVace’s “description of the ceremonies and sports presumed to have taken place at Arthur’s emula tion : Quant li rain leva del mangier Ale sunt tuit esbanoicr De la cite eii champs itfsimit; A jrfusors gjeux so despurtirent. “WITHOI’T PEAK, FAVOR OH AFFECTION.” E VTONTON, TUESDAY, APRIL 18, 1854. The Rhyming Chroniclers be gan to be conspicuous in English.litera ture about the close of the 18th century. Layamon may be considered the lirst of the Chroniclers. He translated some of the poetry of Wace —among other tilings the extract we have given above in Norman French.- We will here give a short speciiflen. of this trans lation, in order that the transition of the Anglo-Saxon into English may be apparent:— Tlia the lgeten hafdc And al his mon-weoredo Tha hnrgan out. of burhgc Tliekies swithen balde. Alle tha kinges, And heore here-thringes. Alle tha biscopcs, And alle tha clarckos, Alle the eorlcs, And alle tha beomes. Robert of Gloucester was the first Rhyming Chronicler , after Laya mon, following at a long interval. He lived during the reigns of Henry 111. and Edward I. He wrote, in Alexand rines, a history of England from the time of the imaginary Brutus, down to his own day, using as authority the work of Geoffrey of Monmouth, which had already been translated by Wace into Norman French, and by Layamon into Saxon. AVe here append a short speci men from Robert’s Chronicle: Engelond is a wel god lond, ich vvene of echo lend best, Y-set in the ende of the world, as al in the west. The see goth hym al about, he stont as an yle. Here ton heo durre the lasse doute hut Bit be thorw gyle. Os tolc of the selve lond, as me hath y-seyo wyle From South to North lie ys long eighte hondred myle. Robert Manning succeeds Rob ert of Gloucester. He flourished in the latter part of the reign of Edward 1., and throughout that of Edward IT.— Here is his Praise of Good women. Nothing is to man so dear As woman’s love in good manner. A good woman is man’s bliss, Where here love right steadfast is. There is no solace under heaven, Os all that a man may neven, That should a man so much glew. Asa good woman that loveth true. No dearer is none in God’s hurd Than a chaste woman with lovely wurd. It was not until the English lan guage had risen to some importance that it became, in common with some other languages, the vehicle for roman tic metrical tales. As far as probability goes, the reign of Edward IL, (1307- 27,) may be set down as the era of Eng lish metrical romances, which .were gen erally English versions from such works in French. These romances are quite numerous. NYe give a specimen, from one called “ King of Tars.” The Sou dan of Damascus, having asked the daughter of the king of Tarsus in mar riage, receives a refusal. The extract tells how he behaved when he received the intelligence of the refusal. Strang -1 y enough he acted too. “ King of Tars ” was probably written about the begin ning of the 14th century: The Soudan .sat at his dess, Y-served of the first mess; They comen into the hall To-fore the prince, proud in press, Their tale they tolden withouten lees. And on their knees gan fall; And said ‘Sire the king of Tars ()f wicked words is not scarce, Heathen hound he doth thee call; And ere his daughter he give thee till, Thine heart-blood he will spill, And thy barons’ all! ’ When the Soudan this y-heard, •Asa wood man he fared; His robe ho rent adown; He tare the hair of head and beard And said he would her win with sword. By his lord St. Mahoun. The table adown right he smote Into the floor foot hot, He looked as a wild lion. All that he hit lie smote downright, Both sergeant and knight, Earl and eke baron. Hitherto we have seen English po etry only in the form of the chronicle and the romance. It has not yet been used to paint natural scenery, to give expression to satiric feeling, or .to ex press the softer feelings of the inmost heart. The dawn of miscellaneous po etry is faintly to be discovered about the middle of tha 18th century, when Henry 111. sat on the English throne, and Alexander 11. on that of Scotland. The earliest of this class that possesses literary merit is an elegy on the death of Edward 1., (1807,) written in musical and energetic stanzns- of which one is subjoined:'— ,V Jerusalem, lltou hast More The flour of all cliivtUrie; Nou Kyng Edward livotli na more Alas! that yc yet shuldo deye! He woldc lia rered up full hoyo Our banners that bueth broht to ground; Wel longo we rriowo dope and eric Kr we such a kyng ban y-foundo! Minot, in 1850, com posed* a fjtties of short poems on the victories oi Edward 111. II is name first occurs in the department of English miscellaneous poetry. Richard Rolle flourished about the time of Minot,. He was n hermit of the order of St. Augustine, a Doctor of Divinity, and was about as dull and as cetic as might have been expected. He wrote many soporific paraphrases of pas sages of scripture, and a didactic poem called u Pricke of We append one tolerably good specimen, describing what there is in heaven: Thor is lyf without,' ony deth, And ther is youtlie withoute ony cldc. . Robert Langlande flourished a bout the same period. He wrote a sati rical poem called “ 'lhe Vision of Pierce PloughmanP He was also a priest, but seems to have made eon siderable .prog ress in (.’lightened sentiments. His poem shows very expressively the progress which .was made about the middle of the 14th century, towards a literary style. In many points of view it was one of the most important works that .appeared in England, previous to the invention of printing. It is the popu lar representative of the doctrines, which were silently bringing about the Refor ; mation, and it is a peculiarly national poem, not only as being a much purer i specimen of the English language than Chaucer, hut as exhibiting the same sys tem of alliteration which characterized the Anglo-Saxois poetry. It is, in fact, both in this peculiarity, and in its politi cal character, characteristic of a great literary and politcal revolution, in which the language, as well as the independ ence of the Anglo-Saxons, had at last gained the ascendency oveYThose of the Normans. The hero.of the poem is re presented as having fallen asleep on the Malvern hills, and as seeing in his sleep a series of visions. In describing these scenes, Langlande exposes the corrup tions of society, but particularly the dis solute lives of the religious orders with much bitterness. Here is a short extract from this poem, in which Mercy and Truth are thus allegorized:— Out, of the west coast a wench, as mo thought, Uarne walking in the way: to hell-ward she looked. Mercy liight that maid, a meek thing withal. A full benign burd, and buxom of speech: Tier sister, as it seemed, came soothly walking, liven out of the East, and west-ward she looked A full comely creature: Truth she hight; For the virtue that her followed, afeard was she never. When these maidens mette, Mercy and Truth Either axed other es this great wonder, Os the din and of the darkness, &c. Lawrfnce Minot, Richard Rol le and Robert Langland, were the immediate predecessors of Chaucer. — j NYe have thus traced English poetry, I from its earliest dawn, through the ehao j tic mass of Anglo-Saxon alliterated sen- I fences, and rhyming chronicles, and met | rical romances, down to the time when j Chaucer, who is called the father of Eng lich poetry, began to mould it into some thing like the divine shape, which it lias assumed in our day. We have seen Cicdmon, the Anglo-Saxon Burns, assert the dignity of his own tongue, and amid the jeers of the Roman eclesiastics, who held the learning in their own hands, exhibit to the world the ever-brighten ing radiance of genius, in spite of the darkness which the cloister sought to. throw around learning and litera ture. We have scan how the Norman romance blended its mellow tints with the strong and balder back-ground of the rugged Teutonic, until the begin ning of the 14th century, when Eng lish poetry, through the genius of Chau cer, became a thing of life and light— “thoughts that breath and words that burn.” In a future paper we will give some account of the immortal Geoffrey, who, as a poet, can boast the paternity oi such names as Milton, and Shak speare, and Byron. ■ The cause of the Quarrel between Russia and Tur key. Though a great deal has been said in the newspapers about the present diffi culty between Russia and Turkey, people yet inquire what is the immediate cause of the present disturbance?—The general intention of Russia towards Turkey, it being pretty well understood, are the aggrandisement of the former at the ex pence of the latter. This would no doubt, have been pushed on more rapidly, but for attitude ofliostility assumed by the'other European powers whenever Russia seems disposed to accomplish its annexation project. Presuming on the weak condi tion of Turkey, Russia endeavored to gain a foothold in the Sultan’s dominoins under the pretext of protecting the Greek Church. The Sultan reigns over some thirty-five millions of people. Os these twenty millions are mohamedan, and twelve millions belong to the Greek Church, and the Czar modestly required Turkey to give him such a power of super intending these twelve millions as would virtually give him a control over them, and be a pretext for his interfering with the affairs of Turkey, when his designs sufficiently ripened to enable liim to swal low the ’whole empire. The Greeks, for protection of whose religion the Czar is nominally laboring, do not seem to covest or desire the inter vention. The report is that the Patriarch recdftly called together the whole of the Bishops of Constantinople and neighbor hood, and put them to collectively the question, whether they had anything to complain of in their present circum stances; and whether they wished for any further privileges ? Then- answer being unanimously in the Patri arch requested them a paper to that effect, which was ( jwne, and the ouent was duly translated to the Grand Yisier. The Greeks appear to fear the protectorate of Russia more than the su premacy of the Qjftoinan.- Philndepkia Ledger. f “ No riati/n is drunken,” says Jeffer son, in his lettfrs where wine is cheap; and none sober where the dearness of wine Substitutes ament spirits as the common j beverage.” \n Maderia, even with the peasantry, sap the Home Journal, a j drunkard is Ms reputable than a thief necessity may make the one, nothing put <®ruiiiutL '"V For the Independent Dress. JLiltlc Crcorge. The following passage is from the X. 0. True Delta’s, account of the burning of the Steam-ship, Georgia:—“A lather who had rescued his wife .and six children, went back for a .seventh and was lost.” The flames ran high—th . w tiers hissed As burning fragments strewed the wave. And fathers prayed, and mothers kissed Their infants o'er a burning grave. The fire-fiend leaped up to the sky, .Vs men upon the wharfage rushed— Unearthly shrieks told.death was nigh, Then in the grave those shrieks were hushed. ” Are they all here?”—-a father said As panting on the shore he stood, Six children by their mother led, Saved by his arm front fire and flood. “ Where’s little George?”—the echo rang Around the weeping, trembling group:— “ Where’s little George?”—the father sprang Where marshalled death his fiery troop. Back rushed he to the spreading flame— The mother cried, “Oh! save my ..child!" The children sobbed their brother’s name. As flame on flame was madly piled. lie's gone—the mother’s heart in pn ye • Beseeches deatli to stay the rod— He’s lost amid the blazing air— “ Protect my child and husband, God! " •• Ha, ha—he comes—he Itcars my child”— And little George stretched out his hand To meet his mother as she smiled To think he soon would join their band. A crash —a burst of flame—he falls! — Sweeps o’er them both a sea of fire— ' The father prays—the infant calls His mother from his funeral pyre. 11th Feb., 1854, Select fjctra. Legend of Heinz F<m Sirin. Out from the dark wild forest Rode the terrible Heinz Yon Stein. Ho paused at the door of a tavern, And gazed at the swinging sign. Then lie sa,t himself down in a corner, And growled for a bottle of wine. Up came with a flask and cork-screw A maiden of beauty divine i Then he sighed with a dec-p love longing-, And said, “Oh damsel mine, Suppose you just give a few kisses To the valorous Ritter Von Stein.” But she answered, “The kissing business Is not at all in my line, And surley I shall not begin it, On a countenance as ugly as thine.” Then the knight was exceedingly angry. And he cursed, both coarse and fine! And he asked her what was the swindle, For her sour and nasty wine! And fiercely he rode to his castle. And sat himself down to dine; — And this is the fearful legend, Os the terrible Heinz Von Stein: [•Fart Diego Herald. The Jfluscadine. Our readers are aware that this is an indigenous grape of the South, the leaf and vine of which arc precisely like the Seuppernong. The fruit, however, is of ft dark purple color with si thick skin and grows in small clusters as the other. On the rich river and creek bot toms we have seen them of a very large size, and esteeifted them as a most de licious fruit, But this was before the Seuppernong was introduced among us to any extent. Mr. Seth W. Roberts, one of our citizens who has great taste for horticultural pursuits, seems disposed to contest the generally acknowledged superiority of the Seuppernoffg, and thinks he will yet be able to irarove the Muscadine to an extent that will at least; surprise those who have conceived the idea tliat it possesses no particular merit, A couple of years ago he transplanted a vine into his grounds, liberally manur- 1 ed it and pruned it very freely. The result is, lie is rewarded this season with an abundance of fruit of remarkably large size—many of the berries measur ing full three incites in circumference— and greatly improved flavor, tinder Mr. Robert’s careful culture the Musca dine may become as famous by and by as the Scoppernong. [Mobile Tribune.] English Puritan Sirnam.es. The following names are given in “Lowers English Sirnames” as speci mens of the names of the old Puritans in England about the year 1658. The names are taken from a jury list iu Sus sex county. They wil cause a smile in our day: [ Faint-not. Howitt, Kill-sin Pitnple, Accepted Trevor. Return Spelman. Make-Peace Heaton. FighUthe-good- God-Reward Smart, figitt-of-faith White ti(}•liio'K Morp-frnit Ffiwlpr Stringer. I fope-for Bending. Earth Adams. Graceful lfa^ling. \UMBER m • Miss I,ester, on Statist. ■ “There is no wit,*’ says the author of the Behaviour Book, “in a lady to i speak of taking a 'snooze,' instead of a nap— in calling pantaloons •pants." or gentlemen‘gents;’—in saving of* a man whose dress is gettingold lie looks ‘seedy . and in alluding to an amusing anecdote, or a diverting incident, tosaythat it is rich. All slang words are detestable from the lips of ladies. We are always sorry to I hear a young lady use ,Mieh a word as ‘polking,’ when she tellsoKimviug been ; engaged in a certain dance tooikjluonable not long since but happily | going out and almost banished Jj best society. To her honor, be it membered, Queen Victoria has prohibit ed the polka being danced in her pre sence. flow can a genteel girl bring, herself to say, ‘Last night I was polkinyJ with Mr. Bell,’ ‘Mr’ Cope came andaskofl me to polk with 1 iim?’ Its coarse and ifli sounding name is wort hy of the daujM Wc have little tolerance for yottftgladjHß who having in reality neither wit#M . humour, setup for both, and hjSm nothing of the. right stock to goAB 1 substit.nl'' coarseness and-hjTperfffl o. say impudence) and tryAL. A v * 'rnmiimr. mu I •,ittra«-i the attruliorßE|§WSsj| ■ ileiiicu by talking slang. th.-vgm i»? Hotkey pick it :■••• • :.m Or,from vulgelHßHß Surely from am ««>miia)i ionMKgfeSHM !i: i \ ,■ ];•• "ft il' '.'• • ladies. ehmiei'il i" ho pmncflHHraj thai was put drunk also t l)";i;io; was drunk. ■i a •aiming ere. JK her h i W hen disconcerted fH*./.' ■ I!""reih Whoa submitting thing unwillingly, ‘she was the scratch.’ Sometimes she did on the sly.’ She talked ofacertain.great, vocalist‘singing like a beast.’ She be lieved it very smart and piquant to use these vile expressions. It's true, when at parties, she always had a half a dozen gentlemen about her, their curiosity be ing excited as to what she would say next. And yet she was a woman of ma ny good qualities; and one who boasted of having always ‘lived in society. Jeremy Ip ateliers. We have nfo patience with Jeremy -1 Diddlers, particularly those of the gen i tlemaniv class, whose dainty hands ; fuse to earn the food they cat . Those dan dy idlers seen to be under the hallucina tion that theyf are too good to work; tluV. they were ipAdo for ornament rather than use; that/their porcelain corporations came into the worhl with a large credit, in their favor. In other words, that the world owes them a living, in return tor their condeseendingy.to be born. Not only must the flowerlbloom; the birds sing, the bees make holey-, and trees bear fruit to regale the sense* of these exquis ite aristocrats; but Ihc\whole human family mustlabor for theirsupport. The farmer must dig the soil; sailor plow the sea; the merchant devoVje himself to trade, and the student to lettVrs; all to adorn, and amuse, and Iced acukissot idle swindlers, who contrive to live\on the fat of the land, at the expence of t\ie com mon industry of society. They t\us vi late the fiat of the Almighty —*‘Vhou shalt earn thy bread by the sweat oivhy brow,” and crontradiet the “He that will not work, neither shall eat.” As we began by saying, we have j no patience, no respect, for these genteel I paupers, these lazy incumbrances upon families and society, who consume the/ bread they have not the manhood to earn. Every mouthful they eat, every article they wear, is a robbery from him who earnedit. And yet these very “Diddlers" will turn up their dainty noses in aristo cratic disgust, at the hard and indepen dent workers to whose labor they are in debted for every necessary as well as lux ury of life. To dig they will not, and to beg they are ashamed. And yet the\ do not hesitate to borrow and rob and swindle their lazy way through life. It is out honest opinion, that for all such miserable Diddlers, prompt suicide is fat more honorable than such miserable eloemosynary oxistence. j .Y. r Mirror. } An Englishman travelling in Missis sippi lately, took out his note-book and made the following entry: / SI “Note Bene.—They flay peopl/aliw ■e, as they do slaughter oxen./ Asa. proof of it, see the lbl lowi tig pa rag/aph ill the Granada Republic:'? - / We understand that Parson Parks was skinned bv Colonel Willcoaj during the discusion between the latter gentle man and M r, Barry at Caml.ltou last week 'l'he parson made some remarks in rela tion to the Colonel, while he was Speaking’ when the colonel turned «pon him, and scored him until his jaw hung very low and his mouth presented a huge obtuse angle, embellished with rows of teeth; while the whole of the cavity alluded 1o offered an enticing opportunity for the study ofthe anatomy of its several appen dages, The reck fiery,appeare nee of the orifice would no doubt shown him to he still a fire-eater. * , V Tlorible! exclaimed the English mast and he ret. urned the note b.w»k m pocket! y ■ 1^ A. mathematician being asked by a Stout fellow, 1 1 f two pigs weigh pom is, how much will a large Jtog wetg i ?’said, - ‘Jump into the scales and 1 will ell you iutmtyilately. . %