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Come to iud in Dreams,
BY OF.OROF. D. FRENTICF.
Come in beautiful dreams, love,
Oh! come to me oft,
When the light wings of sleep
On my bosom lie soil ;
Oh! come when the sea
In the moon’s gentle light
Heats low on the ear
bike the Pulse of the night—
When the sky uinl the waves
Wear their loveliest blue,
When the dew’s on the flower
And the stars on the dew.
C'umfe in beautiful dreams, love,
Oh! come and we'll stray,
\\ here the whole year is crowned
With the blossoms ot May—
Wlicre each sound is as sweet
As the coo of the dove,
And the gales are as soft
As the breathing of love;
V here the beams kiss t he w aves,
And waves kiss tlic beach,
And our warm lips may catcli
‘l'he sweet lessons they teach.
Come in beautiful dreams, Jove,
(Mi! come and we’ll fly
Like two winged spirits
Os love through the sky ;
On our dream wings we’d go,
Where the starlight aud moonlight
Are blending their glow;
Aud on bright clouds we’ll linger
Through long dreamy hours,
Till love's angels envy
That heaven of ours.
Misctlliintous,
\ —Mo-
I'OU TIIE INDEPENDENT PRESS •
* Ex-governor Talmudge and
the Spirits.
.Stop that knocking, stop that knocking,
Stop that knocking, stop that knocking —
Oh! you'd better stop that knocking at my door.
Comic §o»g.
So utterly absurd, so supremely ri
diculous, sp ineffably contemptible, is
the foolery of spiritual rapping, that it
seems almost like one is disposed to
come in for a share ot the contempt of
all sensible people, who takes the mat
ter enough to heart, to pen a line
against it. Arid yet it has such a ten
dency to fatten—nay, it is actually so
much fattening —the grave of the sui
cide, and rendering so populous the
mad houses and lunatic asylums of the
land, that every good citizen who has
brain enough to withstand the prevail
ing mania, should feel it incumbent up
on himself to combat with all his pow -
ers, the stream of nonsense called spir
itual rapping, which is heaving its foul
waves of folly and fanaticism over the
minds of a whole people.
Spiritual rapping, we believe, has
wot yet, been reduced to a system by
any of its devotees. It is as yet, even
in the minds of its firmest believers,
an incoherent and chaotic mass of inci
dents and conjectures, “without form,
and void.” Yea, “darkness is upon
.the face of the deep.” And though
spirits in plenty have “moved upon the
face of the waters” of this new fanati
cism, still none has been found to
smoothc down its billows, and from the
quiet mirror of its surface to reflect any
thing like a system out of this ghostly
chaos. No one has told us the extent
<
of the powers of the spirits—the limits
of their knowledge, if indeed it have
bounds—or whether they revel in the
same omniscience which encircles the
brow ,of the Omnicient himself. We
arc not told under what peculiar cir
cumstances spirits may be summoned
from the vasty deep, nor have we been
made acquainted with all the causes
why the spirits have so suddenly con
verted themselves into tell-tales from
the jland of ghosts. About all we know
of it is, that they communicate with
mankind by means of table.-rapping,
writing under the table, instead of up
on it, and by means of the voluble
tongue of some old, crazy hag, instead
using their own organs of speech, if
any they have.
Hence it is that aside from the pal
pable absurdity of the thing, one does
not know at what point to commence
his attack, from the fact that there is
nothing definite to war against. From
.this dilemma we arc relieved upon the
present occasion, by the letter of Gov.
Talgiadge upon the subject of his spir
itual intercourse with Mr. Calhoun. —
We shall make this epistle the text
arquigl whi,eh to hang our comments
upon spiritualism, at this present wri
ting —premising that we do not expect
to exhaust the subject, but to leave us
enough for the basis of another article,
at some future time, upon the prevail
ing, epidemic, contagious ipsanity.
Mr. Tal mad go's letter is to “Mrs.
Sarah Helen Whitman, Providence,
11.1.” He sejts out to give her a “more
extended account of the “Physical man
ifestations” to which lie alluded in a
former letter. In this account fyc will
.confine himself to those which purport
to come from the spirit of John C, Cal
houn.” And it is very well, Mr. r J.\,
you use the word purport , for it is on
ly purport, as you yourself must have
had some faint surmise, or else why
use the word ?
The Hx-gqvcrnor tells Mrs. W., that
he has received various communica
<7i’his article was written nearly 12 months ago,
l, u t is as applicable now as when first writtten.
tions from Mr. Calhoun, through rap
ping, writing, find speaking mediums,
the septiirientand styje of wiped, wpuld
dp honor tQ hijp in his best, days, upon
earth. ITc then goes on to let us k now
of certain communications received
through the medium,of the hfisses I’ox,
in Washington city, in February last.
Ajtid right here let us say en passant,
that these Foxes do honor to their name,
possessing all the cunning, and all the
deception of their quadrupedal name
sake. \\ r e propose to follow them step
by step, in the tortuous
in which they made Mr. ialmadgetheii
dupe, and contest inch by inch the tes
timony which ho adduces, and the tacts
which he brings forward.
First then lie calls on the Foxes—
those reynards in human form by
appointment, and at once received a
communication from Mr. Calhoun.
By what process these cunning Foxes
imposed upon Mr. TANARUS., in the communi
cation—how the communication was
made —we are left to conjecture. Ihe
evidence that Mr. Calhoun was speak
ing, does not seem to have satisfied
even the credulous and crazy mind of
Mr. Talmudge himself, for “lie wrote
down and propounded mentally the fol
lowing question: ‘Can you do any
thing, (meaning physical manifesta
tions,) to confirm me in the truth of
these revelations?’ —to which lie receiv
ed the following answer: ‘I will give
you a communication, Monday, at 71-2
o’clock. Dp not fail to be here. 1 will
then give you an explanation.
Now be it remembered that the in
terview of Talmudge with the Reynards
was “by appointment.” But even then,
they had not sufficiently prepared the
machinery of their fraud, to impose up
qii the credulous and crazy mind of the
Ex-governor. So they must put off any
farther operations until “Monday 71-2
o’clock.” By that time, they thought
they could get every thing ready to lie
to, and cheat, their dupe to their hearts
content. If they did not wish time to
prepare for this tiling, why should
they have postponed so short an an
yver as that they gave on Monday ? If
Mr. Calhoun indeed wished to commu
nicate with Mr. Talmadge, why did lie
not march up boldly to the point, as
he was always accustomed to do, and
say what he had to say ? Has he so
far degenerated in the spirit land as to
b,e round-about and evasive in what he
lias to do and say? And if fie must
use the Vulpes as mediums, why could
lie not use their tongues ? It is gener
ally supposed that women have these
organs. And if lie didn’t chose to use
their tongues, but their tables instead,
why could he not make the tabic rap
out his wishes as well at the first inter
view as to wait until Monday ? And
why was it necessary to “write down
and propound mentally ’ his question ?
Why do any way and every way, ex
cept a straight-forward, honest, honor-
able, common sense way ?
It must have been on Saturday, or
some day previous, that Talmadgeand
the Foxes were in conclave. Surely
they were not desecrating the Sabbath
with their fooleries. And if this be so
—to-wit, tliat the interview did not
take place on the Sabbath, then we
may know the Foxes had a day or too
to prepare for duping the Ex-governor.
And it is probable they were “fixing
for him” all day Sunday.
Mr. Talmadge was told to meet Mr.
Calhoun at 7 1-2 o’clock Mopday. W e
are not told how the communication
was made. We should have been sat
isfied by the Ex-governor on this point.
But Monday morning comes, anfl the
spirit of Mr. C., punctually meets Mr.
TANARUS., and tells him that the good wjiicli is
to result from spiritual manifestations
,‘is to draw mankind together in harmo
ny, and convince skeptics of the im
mortality of the soul.” It seems that
Channing made a similar answer in
1850, through other mediums, and the
Ex-governor considers the coincidence
of the answers as remarkable. We con
fess we can see nothing at all remarka
ble in it, since the Reynards had doubt
less heard of Channing’s answer, and
when indeed the spiritualists have held
their conventions, and agreed among
themselves upon the purposes to be
attained by them, and also upon the
answers they will make to certain que
ries.
But we do not think that the pur
pose of the spirits, as set forth by
Messrs. Calhoun and Channing, would
be attained. For it must be remem
bered that upon a certain occasion, one
Dives, who lifted up his eyes iu helj,
being in torment, begged “Father
Abraham” to at least let him go, and
speak to his brethren, and convince
them that tjiey should so behave them
selves as not to share his sad lot after
death. Abraham told him no: for
they had Moses and the prophets, and
if they believed not them, neither
would they bclieyc one, though he
should rise from the dead. And wo
are not inclined tq think that people of
this day would believe what is proper
to be believed, any more than the breth
ren of Dives. And righjt here let us
say, that if spiritualism be true, then
we have no farther need of Moses and
the prophets, nor indeed, of one chap-
ter, verse, or word of the Bible. lor
if we can get fresh inspirations from
iiegyep direct, upon all occasions, by
jnegns of the spirits, why should we be
troubled with anything so old fashion
ed as the Bible ?
But we wish to propound a question
or two for Mr. Talmadge to aipswer in
his next epistle ? Suppose that some
one else, in a different part of the
world, had wished to communicate
with the spirit of Mr. Calhoun, at the
same time he (Mr. TANARUS.,) was doing so,
would that spirit have had übiquity
enough to have been hero and there
too? And if not, would it have
said “Holdon awhile —lam busy with
Ex-governor Talmadge—when I get
through with him, I will talk to you?”
We are informed bv Mr. TANARUS., that
while he was receiving these commu
nications from Mr. Calhoun, the table
kept dancing backwards and forwards,
now here aud now there, a foot this
way, aud a foot that way, while no
body touched it! The motive power
in the table, you must remember, was
the spirit of Mr. Calhoun —so that we
may infer from this, that amongst oth
er accomplishments, Mr. Calhoun’s soul
has done what we don’t recollect ever
to have heard of his body’s doing while
on earth—to-wit: taken to dancing!—
We would like to be informed what
Frenchman’s spirit became his tutor,
or whether it is necessary in the world
of spirits to be taught the Terpsiclio
rean art, or whether it comes natural.
But we need not be surprised at this
accomplishment in the spirit of the
grave and dignified Senator, when we
are assured a little farther on that it
lias actually taken to fiddling also —or
at least to guttaring, which is not very
far from the same thing. For that there
arc several grades of the fiddle, wcall
know, from the “little sinful, devilish
fiddle,” up to the sanctified bass viol.
The guitar occupies a medium position
between the two —neither very wicked,
nor very sanctified.
Mr. Talmadge thought lie would try
and see if he couldn’t move the table
himself. So lie sat down, and pulled,
and tugged, and toiled, and sweated.
But ’twas no go. So he got up and did
ditto, ditto, ditto, DITTO! But still
it was no go, even when the Foxes
took hold of the leaf of the table, and
assisted him. The leaf began to crack,
and being afraid lest he should break
it right slap off, we suppose, lie desist
ed and asked the permission of the
spirits to move it, and straightway he j
could move it, and not half try!
Now we wish to know if there is any i
reason why the spirits who had so en- j
tirely changed the laws of nature as to
destroy the locomotion of the table,
even when sufficient power was exist
ed to move it, should not also have so
fixed things as to prevent the table’s
“cracking,” much more breaking.—
Even allowing that the crazed imagina
tion of the Ex-governor had nothing
to do with the motion of the table, the
Reynards could not have had any se
cret machinery by which to move it—
of course not! It is much easier, cer
tainly to suppose that the whole sys
tem of laws which govern tlic material
universe should be suspended, than
that the Foxes —simple creatures, des
titute of guile!—should be guilty of
fraud! The human heart —including
that of the Foxes —is not “deceitful
above all things, and desperately wick
ed!”
We next find the very dignified Ex
senator perched upon a table —“right
spang” in tlic middle of it, like a dunce
as lie is, to see if the spirits could move
him, and they did so, though he and
the table weighed “more than two hun
dred pounds”—a pretty good corporos
ity, by the way for Mr. T. And we
infer from every thing that he is pret
ty much made up of body, containing
precious little intellect, and even tliat
of an inferior quality. His being rais
ed upon the table, and suspended in
mid air is simply too ridiculous to speak
of. It is insanity carried about as far
as it is possible for it to go. It is about
on a par with the world’s resting on
the back of a tremendous big terrapin,
with nothing to support him.
Next follows an account of Mr. Cal
houn’s bell-ringing and guitar-playing,
and Mr. Talmadge thinks that Mr. Cal
houn lias got to be the best bell-ringer,
and guitar-player —prchaps ! Perhaps
in ringing these bells Mr. C., is pre
paring to sell at auction the fools and
the knaves, and we dare say Mr. Tal
madge will bring a handsome sum as a
rare specimen of the former class, as
we do not regard him as a knave, what
ever we may think the Reynards.
Next the hand of Mr. Calhoun’s spir
it grabbed the Ex-goyernor by the
knee, and told him he was the boy
that played that there guitar, and that
—had him by the ley ! And all will
agree that somebody did “have Mr.
Talmadge by the leg,” in fine style.
That was a cruel, though very signifi
cant joke, on the part of the Foxes;
though their dupe wis too far gone to
understand its obvious import.
The Board of Directors of the Crys
tal Palace have determined to reduce
the price of admission to the Palace
permanently , to twenty-five cents.
FUP. THE INDEPENDENT PRESS.
The Study and JPraetiee ot
.JFedifine.
The qature of written prqdpptmps is
regulated by the particular mpod in
which the mind happens to be, when
these productions are perused. I his
mood of the mind is dependent, in a
great, degree, upon extraneous circum
stances. At such a time as this, when
spring is unfolding by degrees her bloom
and beauty; painting the rose -giving
perfume to the violet —echo to the
mountain—smiles to the forest -song to
the birds —-joy to the heart, and spread
ing far aud wide her green and viv iu
vesture, until all nature stands display
ed “in full luxuriance to the sighing
gales;” there is a strong temptation to
indulge the inimagination —Ao send it
wandering like a spirit through the
boundless fields of speculation ami con-
jecture. Fancy too, would turn from
earth to revel in the fair and moon-lit
climes of poetry and romance; oi
steal softly and silently away into
the bowers of love, and then, pluck the
loveliest, the rarest and the richest
flowers, and weave them all into a
garland commensurate with the beauty
and the loveliness of her “beloved ocr
all the world beside.” But. when 1
reflect that this is a utilitarian, and not
a utopian age, I shall chain both imag-
ination and fancy, and address a few
plain simple thoughts to the well in
formed judgments of your readers. —
Catching tlic suggestion from Mrs-
Partington, 1 shall offer a few thoughts
(and they may take them an words of
encouragement if they see proper) to
are standing upon hire broad
theatre of human action, w itli arms
wielding the magic efficacv of the lan
cet and nerved by the potent energies
of the pill-box. And, by the way, the
study and practice of medieime is tlic
subject I had. in view when I first set
out. What an extensive field is here
opened to the enquiring and aspiring
mind! On one hand, are spread out
in georgeous array the attractions of
honor —oil the other, are piled up in
glittering and massive heaps, the splen
dors of wealth, while all around, is
held up the undying meed of useful
ness. The profession of medicine is
worthy of attention and esteem on ac
count of its antiquity of origin, and
some of the circumstances which mark
ed its early history. Nearly fourteen
centuries have poured their vicissitudes
and waged their exterminating revolu-
tions upon the literature and politics
of the world suicc this science reared
a monument to its birth, and still it
stands unscathed amid the desolation
of revolutions. The bones cif old
iEsculapius have long since been le
vigated by the triturations of time, yet
His name ivill live, revered, at least by
the medical fraternity, for all coming
time. Being a root-doctor, and well
versed in all the medical efficacy of
herbs, lie attended tlic Argonauts in
their famous expedition after the “gold
en fleece.” Thus, this culler of roots,
weeds el id omne genus, was instrumen
tal in prolonging the lives of those
who accomplished a deed, which has
been the wonder of all succeeding ages,
and laid the foundation of all that is in-
tercsting, beautiful, and ennobling in
romance. The therapeutic spark,
struck by the hand of YEsculapious,
long lay dormant; and trembling in
dubious existence, had nearly expired,
when it was kindled into a blaze by
Hippocrates, who combined the virtues
of the mineral and vegetable kingdoms.
And, unlike all other sciences which
are of such slow gnd plodding growth
that, they are content to rise by de
grees and to receive fresh vigor from
every age ; it soon arrived to the
strength of comparative maturity. —
Then brand not its modern votaries
with the foul calumny that they have
made but little progress in their pro
fession, for they received it untarnish
from the hands of their ancestral M.
Ds. (Medical Demigods) in whose hands
it had already reached the acme of per
fection. The science of medicine is al
so marked, because, unlike all other
professions, it is trammeled by no sys
tem of rules or settled principles, but
each and every one who belongs to the
brotherhood, is allowed the invaluable
and inestimable right of establishing
his own theory and reducing the same
to practice. And what boots it, if this
does cost the lives of a few poor and
insignificant human beings, when it is
for the noble and praiseworthy objects
of increasing the lights of science and
amassing wealth. The gem which
sparkles brightest in the coronet of
their fame, is this: They have engra
ven in capitals upon the very frontlet
of their character, the significant motto,
“Live and let live.” As this motto is
quite laconic and like many of the tech
nical terms, a little obscure, perhaps an
explanation will not be amiss. It
means simply this. When you are sick,
send for me, and I will render all the
assistance in my power. Live if you can,
but live or die , you must pay me all the
money you can rake and scrape for my
trouble. Most noble philanthropists,
these ! Why should any one ever
think of rewarding such deeds of char
ity by administering to the doctors in
return, some of their own! precious
arsenic 1 Strictly (leaking feoweyer, \
honor and profit njq "dotitot frpigh but
little with the A\ compared j
with the ruling p oj ssiojn of'being useful j
an,t| bencfitting tin fir 1 ace. And why
nee,d these gifted » sons ’ of science con
cern themselves 1 .vith the railery of a
few bigoted ignor amuses, ?yho have the
unparalleled pres ump tion to come out
in the broad opei i day -light pf civiliza
tion, and assert t hat 1 he world would
be far better off’ l .vitho uttliau with doc
tors. And in j jroof of tdiis assertion,
will cite those n utions which have fur
nished b,ut lev\ vota.fies to medicine,
and tell you t hat those live to as ad
vanced an age -. us do we, who are at
tended by the doctor from the cradle
to the grave, and that; they have es
caped many of those remedies which
have swept like a hot; wind from the
desert, over illations more enlightened
and refined. Poor deluded bigots!
you do not r< -fleet that these yeuemble
knights of the mortar, if in ljoother
way, arc use i'ul in giving us a. quick
and easy pas sage out of this world of
“battles and breezes.’' Who w ould not
prefer being gently cased into, eternity
by a few simple drugs, to undergoing
the rack and torture <: »f natures’s r ough
and unskilful, and tedious process.—
Thus you who are eng aged in this pro
fession, have held out before you hon
or, pecuniary emoluments raid useful-
ness to your countrymen objects wor
thy a monarch’s aspirations. For each
of these the most startling difficulties
have been encountered. Youth’s fires
have been dimmed, mark hoods mental
and physical energies prostrated, and
old age’s peace bartered, to gain hon
or. The solitude of the* wilderness
has been invaded, ocean encompassed,
the bowels of the earth sacked, and
even life itself forfeited, for wealth.—
The philanthropist, inspired with the
missionary spirit, lias 1 est kindred,
home and country, and upon the shores
of some far distant land, lias
the standard of Christianity, and point
ed the heathen to its immaculate bag-,
ner, all for the purpose of benefiting
his race. But it remains fo.r the; as
pirant after medical renown, with one
giant stride of the intellect to com
pass all these objects, and place him
self upon an apex of glory, based upon
the tripple pedestal of honor, wci ,Ith
and usefulness. no.XES..
FROM THE SUMTER REPUBLICAN.
COMMUNICATED
Spiritualism and the wVotrl ti
er n Press.
Mrssrs Dewitt & Davenport, Publi: h
ers, New York city, sent to the unci er
signed, by the last mail, a circular, 1 lie
main object of which seems to be to : re
commend, sell and disseminate do. m
Bovee Docks exposition of Spiritualisi n.
These publishers make a very earnc ;st
appeal to Christians, philanthropic ts
and Americans to aid them to prostrate
this heresy, by sending on for the boo k
and giving it as wide a circulation a s
possible.
The undersigned respectfully decline s
to buy or contribute to circulate th i;
book for many reasons, a few of whicl i
will now be assigned.
Ist. Because, no man who has sense
enough to appreciate the argument is
in any danger of becoming a spiritual
ist, and one who has not, can, of course
derive no benefit from it.
2nd. Because spiritualism is a fungus
that cannot live outside of an addled
brain, or a rotten heart, and both these
are beyond the reach of philosophy.
3rd. Because the real facts displayed
in the manipulations connected with
spiritualism have been sufficiently ex
plained, and had been, long before the
Fox family came upon the stage.
4th. Because the falsehoods, frauds
and superstitions connected with the
subject are sufficiently reprobated by
that venerable old classic called the
Bible.
stli. Because the evils visited upon
New York, and other parts of the
North by spiritualism, are self-imposed,
and are but the legitimate fruits of that
inordinate curiosity, and passion for
novelties which the Northern press
lias done so much to engender, and to
stimulate beyond all control.
Gth. Because Nothern book sellers
and publishers have no right to excite
he superstitious in their midst, to fren
tzy bv printing and publishing every
species of humbug, and then tax the
South to pay for panaceas to cure their
miserable dupes, or stay the progress
of their vile inflictions.
7th. Because the names of Judge
Edmonds and Ex-Senator Talmage
have not added a feather’s weight to the
specific gravity of spiritualism with us;
and their testimony to its truth needs
no refutation. Neither senatorial
robes nor judicial ermine can relieve
its hideous deformities.
BREWSTER.
In Sir Henry Wooten’s jocular defi
nition, “an ambassador is said to be a
man of virtue sent abroad to tell lies
for the advantage of his country.”
The very best occupation a person
can be employed at, is, to attend to his
men business Remember it,
3 {(rintltiml.
FROM Tit E SOUTHERN PLANTER.
Horse vs. Jtlulc.
Mr. Editor : —I have seen a good
lyany . communications in your paper
showing the ad\ antage of mules over
horses. . f wish Ur give you a few fire
sid,e calcic lations of an old farrmei on
tfie subject - Sup}; ose a farmer to start
with a tear n of* ten mules, which will
cost, say $ *1200; the losses would
arnqunt to aU least true in two years,
which at the same price, woi tld he
sixty dollars' a year "to keep up his
teaip. Suppo. '-e anotlier to start; witli
four horses am 1 six mares, costing sl,*
000; lie ought t* > raise not less-tlis.n two
colts a year—th 5 cost of raising which
is, say S4O. As I have allowed that
live mules would die in ten years, 1
will allow that eight horses would die
in the sarpe time, which would leave
the farmer twenty-two horses at the
end of ten years, hie ought to- have
sold during the ten years twelve of
these at $1200; now deduct the cos t of
raising, S4BO, which would make Ids
team cost him S2BO during the ten
years. Whereas:
If lie were to attempt to raise the
mules, he wc,ukl have to buy mares,
which, adrleq to the cosh, and trouble oJ
raising them, would make it cheaper
in the end to, buy the mules. But
where are the mares to come from il
we all raise mules I Tbey say that
mules live longer, stand abuse, and
eat less t han horses. Iha ve disposed
of the loi ng life in allowing eight horses
to die in the same time tha t five mules
would. lean allow nothing for abuse
to either ;• and for eating Less, I have
not found it the ease; because I can
turn my h orses on grass -every night
for six mo. ltli in the year, besides all
times when they are not used, and
have alwaj s found the old saying true
about mule ?, “that there wore but two
places for a mule, the stable and the
harness;” fc r as soon as lie is turned
outlie will get into mischief, conse
quently lie w ill eat more grain in a year
than a horse.
Virginia is now paying.to Kentucky
$200,000 or $ *BOO,OOO per annum for
mules; and n rust pay more, because
the. Kentucky ms have already bought
up a large nui liber ol mares in "W est
ern Virginia a 1 double the price they
formerly sold f or. and have almost stop
ped the raising • of horses there; and we
are ©blidged fro m necessity to buy their
mules. That, j l believe, is the princi
pal cause of the h igh price of horses at
present; and Ith ink that they will stead
ily rise to nearly ~ double their present
value.. Now, si r, this must be a los
ing game. Virginia, once famed for
her fifie horses, 1 las now become tribu
tary th Kentucky for animales to supply
their places, whi eh cannot keep up
their ©wn race, ar id must be an increas
ing tax on her far mers, who could raise
their own horses a nd some to spare.
ANTI-MULE.
Washington 1 T rving and his
Hoi nc.
Miss Bremer thus speaks of our uni
versally beloved coi mtryman, Wash
ington Irving : —‘The I're was a whole
crowd of strangers to > dinner, among
whom was the authoi of the “Sketch-
Book,” ai man of ah out sixty, with
large beautiful eyes, . a well formed
nose, a countenance R till handsome,
r.n which youthful littl e dimples and
f smiles bear witness to a youthfully
{fesh and humorous disposition and
soul. He-must be a man of unusually
h appy temperament, akd of a most ex
cellent heart. He Las surrounded
himself with a number ol "nieces, (lie
says lie cannot conceive c, f what use
bc ys are in the world) whoi n lie makes
happy, and who make him so by their
ass ection- He says lie Lis t. he peculiar
sac ulty of liking everything he posses
ses, and every thing ivhicl i seeks his
protection. He is- an optimis 4, but not
a conceited one. In the afternoon I
be i tged him to let me 'take a profile
likeness of him. He Lieerf iilly con
sented, and soon became wid e awake,
loquacious and lively;there was so
nru eh vivacity in his smile, and so much
fun in all the merry dimple! > of his
coi i ntenance, that it is n y own fault if
I have not made one oi the l >cst and
most characteristic portraits t hat has
ever been taken of him. lam glad to
have it to show to his fHends . and ad
mirers in Sweden. Mr. Irving invited
mo and my friends to hiahouse for the
folio wing evening; but as wi i were
obliged to return homdthat di iy, we
could not accept his invilation, l >ut en
gaged to pay him a visitlin the. morn
ing. I went in the foicnoon, with
Mary Hamilton, to Wikhingto; a Ir
ving’s. His house, or villa, w hich
stands on the banks of thcjHudsoi l, re
sembles a peaceful idyl; thick mi isses
of ivy clothe one portion ojf the w hite
walls, and garland the olives. Fat
cows feed in the meadow j iM before the
window. Within, the rr g G cr aed
fnll of summer warmth, L fccl hac l a
peaceful and cheerful aspect. C >ne
felt that a cordial spirit, full 0 f the b est
sentimeptsof the goul, woi -k
ed there. Washington Irving, though
possessed of the politeness of a man of
the world, ami of great natural good
nature, has, nevertheless, somewhat of
that nervous shyness which so easily at
taches* itself to the author, and particu
larly to him who is possessed of cleliea
ly of feeling and refinement. A por
trait which hangs in Washington Ir
ving’s drawing-room, and which was
painted many years since, represents
him as a remarkable man, with dark
hair and eyes—a head which might
have belonged to a Spaniard, lie was
engaged to a young lady of ran; beauty
and excellence ; it would have been
difficult to have met with a handsomer
pair. But she died, and Washington
Irving never again sought for another
bride. lie has been wise enough to
content himself with He memory of a
perfect love, and to live for literature,
friendship and nature.
Talleyrand, and Jlrnold.
There was a day when Talleyrand
arrived in Havre, on foot from Paris.
It was the darkest hour of the French
revolution. Pursued by the blood
hounds of the lleign of Terror, strip
ped of every wreck of property or
power, Talleyrand secured a passage to
America in a ship about to* sail, ll<*
was a beggar and a wanderer to a
strange land to earn his daily bread by
daily labor.
“Is there an American staying at
your house?” he asked of the land
lord of the hotel:—“I am bound to
cross the water, and would like a let
ter to a person of influence in the New
World.”
The landlord hesitated a moment
and then replied:
“ There is a gentleman up stairs, eith
er from America or Britain, but wheth
er an American or Englishman, I can
not tell.”
lie pointed the way, and Talley
rand—who in his life was Bishop,
Prince and Prime Minister, ascended.
A miserable suppliant, he stepped be
fore the stranger’s door, knocked and
entered.
In the far corner of a dimly lighted
room, sat a man of some fifty years,
his arms folded and head bowed upon
his breast. From a window directly
opposite, a flood of light poured over
his forehead. His eyes looked from
beneath the downcast brows, gazed on
Talleyrand’s face with a peculiar and
searching expression. llis lace was
striking outlines; the mouth and chili
indicative of an iron will, llis form
was vigorous, even with the snows of
fifty winters; was clad in a dark, but
rich and distinguished costume.
Talleyrand advanced—stated that he
was a fugitive —and under the impres
sion that the gentleman before him
was an American, lie solicited his kind
and feeling offices.
He poured forth his history in elo
quent French and broken English.
“I am a wanderer—an exile. lam
forced to fly to the New World, with
out a friend or a home. You are an
American. Give me then, I beseech,
you, a letter of yours, so that I may be
able to earn my bread. lam willing
to toil in any manner—the scenes of
Paris have filled me with such horror,
that a life of labor would be a paradise
to a career of luxury in France. You
will give me a letter to one of your
friends.
The strange gentleman rose. Witlt
a look that Talleyrand never forgot,
lie retreated towards the door of the
next chamber, his eyes looked still from
beneath his darkened brow. He spoke
as lie retreated backward; his voice
was full of meaning.
“I am the only man born in the
New World who can raise a name to
God and say —I have not a friend —
not one in all America.”
Talleyrand never forgot the over
whelming sadness of that look which
accompanied these words.
“Who are you ? ” he cried, as the
strange man retreated towards the next
room —“ What is your name ? ”
“My name! —he replied with a smile
that had more mockery than joy in its
convulsive expression—“my name is
Benedict Arnold.”
He was gone. Talleyrand sunk into
a chair gasping the words:
1 * Arnold, the traitor.”
Thus you see he wandered over the
earth, another Gain, with a wanderer’s
mark upon his brow. Even in that
secluded room, at the inn in Havre,
his crimes found him out, and forced
him to tell his name—that name the
synonym of infamy.
The last twenty years of his life
arc covered with a cloud, from whose
darkness but a few gleams of light
flashed out upon the page of histoiy.
The manner of his death is not ex
actly known. But we cannot doubt,
that he died utterly friendless—that
remorse pursued him to the grave,
whispering John Andre! in his ear,
and that the memory of his course
of glory gnawed like canker at his
heart, murmuring forever—“true to
your country, what might you have
been, 0, Arnold, the traitor !”
Truth is a sturdy plant; when once
rooted, there is no room for error.
