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Select fartri). 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.