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[ know tlill alto - :
Vknow heV lips might tempt the hee,
Hot eVoB >vTn\ stars eoittfwire i ’■**
Such transient gifts I ne’er cfSUtA prtae,
My heart they ne'er could win—
-1 dp hot scorn my Mary's eyes,
Mut—has she any tin? " ' f ,«_ .
The fairest check, alas! may fade,
Beneath the touch of years 1
» The eyes where light and gladness pliyed,
May soon grow dim with tears:
f would Ihve's (ties should bo the Uwt,
Still bum til they bog'.n—
But beauty’s reign eo seen is past —
So—has she any tin?
Sleek-Headed Gentleman—A Fun
uy Time in Congress.
Mr. McMullen, in advocating the
reduction of the amount to be appro
|imted, alluded to the remarks of the
gentleman from Ohio, not the one (Mr.
Gildings) who bellowed so loudly,
he said, but to his sleek-headed col
league, (Mr. Taylor.) [Laughter.)
Mr. Taylor, who .was entering the
liall as this allusion was made to him,
replied, he would lather have a sleek
head than a blockhead. [lmmoderate
laughter, intermingled with cries of
‘•Good,” “Good.”)
Mr. McMullen —I rise to a person
al explanation.
Chairman —Will the Committee
hear the gentleman ?
Many Voices—‘Wes —No.” “Or
der, hear him.”
Mr. Gildings—lt’s a good natured
proceeding, that’s all.
Mr. McMullen, no objection now
interposing, said—l intended nothing
personally offensive, and no one ought
to have known this better than the
gentleman himself. T made use of the
remark at which the gentleman exhib
ited an undue degree of excitement to
produce a little levity; Neither of us
ought to complain of our heads—if
united, there would not be more brains
than enough for one common head.
[Excessive laughter.)
Mr. Taylor rose amidst cries of
“Hear him, go on,” saying, I am the
last man to make an improper alia- 1
stop, though the first to defend myself
from offensive remarks. I take back
what I said, after tne personal explan
ation of my friend from Virginia, with
whom I have had long intercourse. I
think neither he nor myself, nor the
whole House, have more .sense than
the country demands at our hands.
Cries of “Good, well said.” [Ex
cessive and prolonged laughter.)
After some further action oh the bill,
the Committee rose.
Thackeray’s Women.
A general review of Thackeray, in
the January Blackwood , possesses
greatly more than the usual interest of
such papers. Its general tone is one
of approval and appreciation, while
its censure is dealt out with an admi
rable discrimination. Its dissection
of the author’s genius gives us a com
ple idea of his powers, marking with
a rare perspicacity the strong features
of his intellect, and exposing his de
ficiencies with a candor and kindness
combined, so clearly, that hereafter
they shall be patent to all the world.
In the delineation of female charac
ter, the reviewer deems Thackeray
wanting; not that certain phases of
character arc not given with great
power and fidelity—but that his range
bf-feminine creations is limited. Two
or three Kinds of women—no one of
which btit is much short of the re
viewer’s standard, of high womanli
ness—are all the galleries of his
genius exhibit. And these more rep
resent certain conventionalities than
types of feminine nature.
We give two extracts:
“Only in one respect docs Pendinnis
sin more grossly than Vanity Fair.
Blanche Amory is more detestable,
because she is less clever than Becky.
How much does Mr. Thackeray owe
to the world of womankind, by way of
reparation for foisting into their ranks
such a creation as “this! Nothing less
than a DeSdemomt can atone for such
an insult. Can Mr v Thackeray make
a Desdomona ? He has added some
few pleasant people to our acquain
tance in his day—Warrington may
make amends.for Pen, but who is to
make amends for Blanche ?
And here we touch upon our au
thor's greatest imperfection. Mr.
Thackery does not seem acquainted
with anything feminine between a nur
sery maid and a fine lady—an indis
criminate idolater of little children,
and an angler for a rich husband. The
“perfect woman, nobly planned,” has
no place in the sphere of Mr. Thack
eray’s fancy. Perhaps the secret of
this may be, that Mr. Thackeray’s
world is a conventional world; that
even while he attacks its weak points,
“society,” the sphere witlr which he is
best acquainted, represents this unany
sided globe iri olir historian’s eyes. Hie
mother and the cousin in the little
country-house, weeping f nnd adoring as
they read the hero’s letters, telling
each other of his childhood, those
blessed days when Pen was m petti
coats, seeing in all this heaven arid
earth only the bit of yonsecrated soil
under his shadow and the sky over his
head, and furious at every other pre
tender for his gracious favour—-that is
one side of the picture. On the other is
Miss Amory, with that bad leer in her
eyes, which we are rejoiced to see lias
disappeared from the sketches of Mr.
Michael Angelo Titmarsh; calculating
her chances of a husband, amusing
Mr. Pen into dipt Mst resource of idle
ness —(ailing in loye ; weeping “ Mes
.a*,',. WW*V.T i
Emm- m p'Alw. and m priyatu cut
ting her little brother; and Blanchei«
the other side of the golden shield,
the obverse of the coin, the completion
of Mr. Thackeray’s circles of female
character. It is not a flattering esti
mate of Englishwomen which will be
fothfted Horn the pagtfs of this author,
whom, of all others, we should fancy
otir neighbors over the Channel most
likely to form their judgment from.
Though Blanche has expanded into
Beatrice, and Beatrice progressed to
Ethel, the character is still far from
satisfactory. And we must onCe as
sure Mr. Thackeray, that he owes his
countrywoman an Isabella or a Dcsde
inona to iriake amends.
We are afraid Mr.' Thackeray is be
yond the roach of advice in respect to
bis female characters. Ethel is very
attractive, very brilliant; but we
would rather not have our daughters
resemble this young lady, it must be
confessed; and poor pretty Hose;*,
with all her goodness, is nobody, and
Mr. Thackeray intends that she should
be so. If this is not good morals, it
is still less good art. Providence has
exempted women from the grosser
temptations, and romance has gifted
hdr with a more ethereal life. If we
do not bid Mr. Thackeray create ft wo
man of the highest order, or if we are
doubtful of his capacity for this deli
cate formation, we may still beg him to
add a little common-sense to his femin
ine goodness. When these tender
pretty fools are rational creatures, the
world of Mr. Thackeray’s imigination
will have a better atmosphere; for
besides marrying and contriving op
portunities to give in marriage, besides
the nursery and its necessities, there
are certain uses for womankind in this
world of ours, and we are not so rich
in good influences as to forfeit any of
them. A coronet is certainly not an
idol the worship of which gives much
elevation to the spirit of its adorers;
but when Lord Kew is so little osten
tatious of his decoration, why should
Ethel, and her friends for her, compass
heaven and earth to obtain such an
other ? Does not Mr. Thackeray
think this is too hackneyed a subject
for his fresh and unexhauste I inven
tion ? Might not the next Ethel do
something better by way of novelty,
and leave this field to Mrs. Gore and
Mrs. Trollope, and the host of lessor
ladies who devote their talents to the
noble art of making matches ?
FROM MR. SABINE’S NOTES ON OCELLI NO.
Clinton and Swartwout.
Near the City of New York in 1802.
The dispute was political : Hamil
ton was involved ; and two years la
ter, became a victim. A correspon
dence preceded the meeting between
Clinton and his opponent, in which
concessions were demanded and eva
ded. On the ground, Clinton is said
to have expressed the wish, (referring
to Burr,) that he “had the principal
there.”
The seconds were R. Hiker and "W.
Smith. The statement of the latter
follows. It will be seen that the par
ties exchanged Jive shots.
“ The ground being correctly meas
ured, and intermediate questions ad
justed, the gentlemen took their sta
tions—were each presented with a pis
tol, and, by order, faced to the right,
and fired, ineffectually. At the re
quest of Mr. Hiker, I asked Mr. Swart
wout, “ Are you satisfied, Sir ?” He
answered, “ I am not.' 5 The pistols
then being exchanged, and their posi
tions resumed, by order, the gentle
men faced to the right and fired a
seco and shot, but without effect. At
the request of Mr. Hiker, I again ad
dressed Mr. Swartwout, “ Are you
satisfied, Sir ?” He answered strong
ly m the negative, We proceeded, and
a third shot was exchanged without in
jury. At the request of Mr. Hiker, I
asked Mr. Swartwout, “ Are you sat
isfied, Sir ?” He answered, “I am not
—neither shall I be, until that apolo
gy is made which I have demanded.—
Until then, we must proceed.” I then
presented a paper to Mr. Hiker, con
taining the apology demanded, for Mr.
Clinton’s signature, observing that we
could not spend our time in conversa
tion ; that this paper must be signed or
proceed. Mr. Clinton declared he
would not sign any paper on the sub
ject—that he had no animosity against
Mr. Swartwout would willingly
shake hands and agree to meet on the
score of former friend ship.
Mr. Swartwout insisting on his sig
nature to the apology, and Mr. Clin
ton declining, they stood at their posts
and fired a fourth shot. Mr. Clinton’s
ball struck Mr. Swartwout’s left leg,
about five inches below the knee ; he
stood ready and collected. At the re
quest of Mr. Hiker, I again addressed
Mr - Swartwout, “are you satisfied,
Sir ?” He answered, that “it was use
less to repeat the question my determi
nation is fixed, and I bog we may pro
ceed.” Mr. Clinton repeated that he
had no animosty against Mr. Swart
wout, was sorry for what had pssSed,
proposed to advance, shake hands, and
bury the circumstance m oblivion.—
During this conversation, Mr. Swart
wout’s surgeon, kneeling by his side,
extracted the ball from the opposite
side of his leg. Mr. Swarwout stan
ding erect on his post, and positively
declining anything short of an ample
apology, they fired the fith shot, and
Mr. Swartwout received the ball in the
left leg, about five inehfcs ab6ve the an
cle [still however, standing steadily on
his post, perfectly composed.
At the request of Mr. Hiker, I again
addressed Mr. Swartwout. “ Are you
satisfied, Sir ?” He forcibly answered,
“I am not, Sir ; proceed.” Mr. Clin
ton then quit his station, declined the
combat, anti declared lie would fire no
more. Mr. Swartwout expressed him
self surprised that Mr. Clinton would
neither apologise nor give hint the sat
isfaction he required ; and addressing
me, -said, “ W hat shall I do, my friend ?”
I answered, “Mr. Clinton declines ma
king the apology requi red—refuses ta
king his position—and positively de
clares lie will fight no more ; and his
second appearing to acquiesce in the.
dispos'd Kin of his principal, there is no
have your wounds dressed.” ’ The sur
goons attended, dressed Mr. Swart
wout’s wounds, and the gentlemen in
their respective returned to
the city. #
Mr. Clinton was challenged the year
following, for words spoken in the Se
nate of the United States.
Ready Wit.
A writer in the Knickerbocker thus
disposes of a Itomnot, which has aH
along been attributed to Johh Ran
dolph of Hoattoke. The scene wits in
the United States House of Represen
tatives some 40 years ago :
The parties, concerned(says the wri
ter,) were the-late Mr. Smythe, of Vir
ginia, one of the Commissioners of
Ghent, if I rightly recollect; at all
events a man of eminence and distinc
tion in his native State, the “ Old Do
minion,” and gi'efttly respected and
deferred to in the councils of the na
tion. He was a man of some pretem
sion and pomp, and who, on occasion,
knew how to “ put on airs” to serve
a purpose. He was a man who spoke
often, and commanded always the at
tention of the House.
Mr. Livermore was a man of plain
ness and simplicity, but of great nerve
and firmness, and could not bear to be
pushed any more than the highest
Southern blood. He did not often speak,
but when he did, he was a man of in
variable directness of aim, and lie des
pised the vulgar arts of rhetoric and
political chicanery just about equally.
It happened that some measure in
which Mr. Livermore took deep inter 1
est, was before the House, and the
House was in a good mood for favora
ble action ; but Mr. Smythe, for some
reason or other, was determined to talk
it out of time. It became of the last
importance to strangle him in some
way, and this is an operation which a
New Hampshire man cannot ordinari
ly perform with much success upon a
“ full blooded” Virginian, in the full/
tide of successful debate. But Mr;
Smythe careered over the whole at will,
with no reference to the subject befbie
the House ; and at the close* of one of
his most eloquent and most satisfactory
periods, Mr. Livermore rose, and hi a
tone of great firmness and determina
tion, called the gentleman to ordei; for
thus wandering from the business be
fore the House. The hot Virginian
turned upon his New Hampshire intru
der with great warmth and affected
contempt, lie said “he would teach
the gentlemen from New Hampshire
not thus to interrupt him. He was not
speaking for the edification of the gen
tleman, or of the House, but for all fu
ture time, for posterity !” “ Yes,”
ejaculated Livermore, in a voice which
rang through the House like the whis
tle of a locomotive, “ Yes, truly ; and
the gentleman is in a fair way, at this
rate, to have his audience before him be
fore he gets through /”
The effect was electric, and the
Ifouse involuntar : ly broke out in a
•broad laugh, at Mr. Smythe’s expense,
of course, which affected him so much
at the moment that he was quite una
ble to gather up his scattered forces,
and left posterity to get their own
light iu their own way, and sat down.
And all this is now brought up as one
of John of Roanoke’s best hits. Such is
fame.
A Deer Chase near Rochester.
The deer, with the Indians, have
nearly all disappeared from the Gene
see region of country, over which they
once roamed in untamed freedom,
and rarely indeed are any of them
known to venture within the danger
ous precincts of civilization. Yet oc
casionally one makes his appearance
among the cultivated fields of Wes
tern New York, though his reception
is generally such as to make him re
gret his temerity. On Tuesday last, as
the hands employed on board the
State scow Rough and Ready, under
command of H. K. Higgins, Esq., were
at work on the canal, repairing the
tow-path, about four miles and a half
west of Rochester, a full grown doe
was discovered trotting down the heel
path toward them. She stopped sud
denly when a short distance from
them, turned and plunged into the ca
nal, swimming across to the tow-path
side. There were six men to work on
the boat, who immediately suspended
their labors and gave chase. The
deer leaped the fences and crossed sev
eral fields, running at length into a
meadow covered with high grass and
Canada thistles. The men, notwith
standing they were all barefooted,
rushed into the grass and thistles, and
drove the animal back and fortli
through the field until it was nearly
exhausted. They then drove it down
into a corner of the meadow, where,
from the height of the fence and its
exhausted state, it was unable to leap
out. Young Higgins rushed upon it
here, seized it around the neck, and
held it until the others came to his as
sistance. A rope was procured from
the boat, and the captive led back in
triumph, though frantic with fright.—
The chase occupied about half an hour,
and the distance run from* the boat
was less than a mile. We doubt, if a
full grown wild deer was ever before
captured in so fair a race in So short a
time. The captured deer is now on
the premises of If. Iv. Hoggins, Esq.,
in Cates, undergoing the process of
civi 1 ization .-/Rochester Republicm* 1 1849.
The Artichoke.
The are two varieties of artichoke—
the Globe and the Green ; the latter is
more hardy and prolifiee, and the plant
better adapted for culture in cold cli
mates. The artichoke is propagated
from seeds, or by.di vision of the young
slickers that arise from the roots of the
old plants in Spying. They are fit to
slip or cut off after they have mady a
tew roots and leaves/ riant therrf
three feet apart each wav, in soil well
prepared by digging amt rpauuring.
For Sale in Savannah by S. S.
SIBLKY.
Never having been an admirer of
the writings of this very “ fast” young
lady, we have been surprised to find
ourselves a good deal interested in this
very meagre sketch of her life. The
selections from her newspaper contri
butions—(“ beauties ” they are call
ed,) —intermingled with its incidents—
those may read who fancy: for the
most part we have “skipped” them.
The style of Fanny’s biographer is
quite as racy and dashing and much
more biiliant and correct than her
own. Indeed it must be admitted that
his work, such as it was, has been done
well. And for the damage which it
will probably inflict upon the reputa
tion and popularity of art exceedingly
vicious writer, he deserves the thanks
of the public.
If any of our jeaders are curious
to know who the author of the “ Fern
Leaves,” “The Little Ferns,” and
“Ruth Hall ” is, they may be gratified
in a few words. Her maiden name was
Sarah Willis; she is the daughter of
Nathaniel Willis, of Boston, the foun
der of the Recorder, a religious news
paper of that city, and is s ster of the
well known N. P. Willis; was born
July 9th, 1811. Having run a lively
career as a young lady, in 1837 she mar
ried a Mr. Eldridge, a Bostonian, then
in the enjoyment of a handsome in
come. The dashing maiden was an
equally’dashing wife. Unfortunately,
in n few years she found herself a
dashing widow* not destined, however,
long to remain so. The bipgraphy
goes on in this wise:
“ Mr. Farrington, a mefeharit of Uos l
ton —a man of energy and upright
character—made an offer of his hand.
He had himself enjoyed matrimonial
experience, was himself a parent, and
vas well qualified to sjunpathise with
ihe young widow. They sought mu
tual consolation in marriage; but scarce
ly was the honey-moon over, wjien
that mutual consolation was followed
by mutual surprise. Fanny learned
to her sorrow that all husbands are not
equally fond and indulgent*; and the
bridegroom discovered that Mrs. F.
No. 2 wasn’t the exact counterpart of
Mrs. F. 1. The contrast was, in fact,
so vast and amazing, that it seem
ed to require solitude and quiet to con
sider it in all its bearings. According
ly, Mr. Farrington'resorted to travel
and a change of scene; journeyed
westward, and has not since been seen
on the down-east slope of the conti
nent. The slender tie of affection be
tween the happy pair, thus long drawn
out, like a thread of India rubber, fi
nally snapped.”
The husband thus driven westward,
obtained a divorce from his wife. IDs
residence is Chicago; hers, with her
two children, by her first marriage, is
New York.
Sociology for the South.
Mr. A. Morris, of Richmond, Va.,
has published a volume from the pen
of George Fitzhugh, under the title of
“Sociology for the South, or the
Failure of Free Society.” We have
not seen it, but find it reviewed at
great length in the National Intelli
gencer. The reviewer notices it in
the following terms:
“It is not a book that any reader
will sleep over. The questions it dis
cusses are the questions brulantes of
our time and county, while the caus
tic and rather melo-dramatic style of
Mr. Fitzhugh is of itself quite enough
to stimulate the ennui of a flagging
partisan and stir the bile of a half-re
conciled foe. Mr. F. never minces
matters—he calls a spade a spade, and
ft shovel a shovel. He never says any
thing by halves. He is the fast friend
of his friends, and a “ good hater ” of
his opponents.”
The purpose and drift of the author
are thus set forth by the Intelligen
cer :
“ The object of Mr. Fitzhugli in this
work is to show, bv the induction of
facts, and by marking the drift of
events, that “ free society is a monstrous
abortion,” and that slavery is the nat
ural and normal condition of every
well regulated community, and the
condition to which society unconscious
ly tends whenever that normal state is
interrupted. Free society, according
to him, is only an experiment, and an
exploded one at that. It has existed
only “ long enough to justify the at
tempt to generalize its phenomena and
calculate its moral and intellectual in
fluences and the results of Mr. F.’s
researches conduct him to the conclu
sion, that the inevitable effect of free
society is the destruction of domestic
affection, the corruption of public mor
ality, the oppression of the laboring
masses, and all with an ever accruing
entail of pauperism and crime, inso
much that the men of the South “ are
better husbands, better fathers, better
friends, better neighbors,” than those
of the North, while they add to these
higher social virtues “a pride of char
acter,” which gives them “the ascend
ancy whenever they come in contact
with Northerners;” and since all
“•Northeners ” have not b.een sufficient
ly impressed with these fact Mr. Fitz
hugh has determined to write a book
about them, though we doubt if it will
convince those to whom its satire is ad
dressed, any more than we suppose Mr.
Fitzhugh would be moved by tjie Rev.
H. W. Beecher’s recent remark “there
is more sense in a Yankee’s hand than
in any Southerner’s head.”
To Keep Beans, English Peas, &c.,
for Seed.
After drying them thoroughly, put
them in glass bottles, or, if in large
quantities, in jugs of earthen or
stone ware ; add to a common quart
bottle a teaspoonful of spirits of tur
pentine—a gallon jug does not require
more. Keep it tightly corked, and
the atmosphere within is fatal to all
insects. A lump oi gum camphor is as
good as the spirits of tupentine.-- M m.
% White.
fishing the other d:iy, lor tTic first time
in a Maryland brook. My companion
being a great genius in the way of
hooking “ horn-pout/’ y»oon whisked
one from his element, and, taking out
my knife, I immediately cut a nice
long slice from his soft, white bread
basket, atid commenced bobbing it
among the iillypads for pike. In fif
teen or twenty minutes I had a pretty
good string, and as it was getting rath
er dark, I “put in ” for the last ’time
in a smooth shady spot, just where
the railroad crossed. Scarcely had the
bait touched the water when a mag
nificent whirl made my eyes spark'e
with delight, and after “letting him
have it ” a few moments, I jerked,
and drew out a noble fellow right on
the sand where a friend was standing,
who had just a moment before come
down. The pike in jumping about
soon covered himself with dirt, and my
friend (I was ready to call him any
thing else live minutes after,) took him
up with both hands to wash him. I
had a presentiment that the fish would
get away, yet 1 could not say a word,
but went bn quietly fixing my hook,
and was scarcely astonished when my
friend suddenly started up, and with
eyes almost bursting from their sock
etts, made known to me the welcome
intelligence of the fish’s departure, by
ejaculating “I swoW!”
He was sorry, and I was sorry, but
that didn’t bring the pickerel back, so
I dropt in my bait again, and woukl
you believe it, the silly coot of an
aqueous inhabitant bit directly, and
took the bait right off? Determined
to catch the impudent rascal if possi
ble, I tried a third time ; a third time
he whirled and ran, and a second time
I hauled him high and dry along side
cf his stringed brethren. I chuckled
when I ran the branch through his
mmense gills, I chuckled when I cut
off his head and scraped his scales, and
I chuckled when I masticated his de
licious body the next morning for
breakfast. Ah; he was a noble fellow,
and the only thing that puzzled me, is
whether he was “mortal hungry, ”
“awful crazy ” or “didn’t know what
he Was about ” when he bit so soon
after having been caught. T proved
his identity by two “ huok slits ” in his
savage looking mouth, and if any
body doubts my story, I just refer
him to my friend.
Andy’s Fight with the Big Black
Dog.
The following story of a scene down
South is equal to some of J udge Hal
iburton’s yarns in the Spirit of the
Times: “We was all up at old Uncle
Davy M ’s last Fall at the general
master, and there was a smart crowd
of people as generally there' is, when
Andy got tight, as he sometimes does,
and nothing would do but lie must
have a fight outer somebody. It warn’t
very long before that, he'd been had
up before Court for fighting; and John
here and a passel more fellows had
stood security for his good behavior.
Well, they all got hold of him, and
tried to hold him. Bless your soul!
they might as well a tried to hold a
mad bull in fly time. Then they tried
coaxing him, but ’twouldn’t all do, he
was too mad ; till at last they had to
quit and let him alone, for fear of
kctchin’ it themselves. In the mean
time the crowd had formed g ring
round him, more than a hundred yards
round, (for every body Was afeard to
come anigh him,) wh.cn jest as they let
him go a big black dog ran out in the
ring and barked. No sooner an he
done it, Andy lit right slap a top on
him, snatched him clear off the ground,
and before you could say Jack Rober
son, he’d bit his tail off within an inch
of liis body. Fact, gentleman, ’pon
myr word and honor —there’s more’n a
hundred men can prove it! The way
that dog squalled and hollered was or*
ful, and when he got loose there was a
streak of dust seen goin’ up the road,
as fast as a flash of lightning, and that
was the last ever seen of that dog;
while Andy was a rantin’ and rairin’
round, a chawin’ the tail, like a mad
hog, with a snake in his mouth. This
thing I seed Andy do myself, and they
do say that ain’t a circumstance to
what lie mought do if he war a mind
to.”
Seeds.
Length of time in which seeds may
be safely trusted to germinate, if pro
perly kept: Parsnip and rhubarb, two
years ; beans and peas, two or three ;
carrot, nasturtium, mustard, parsley,
lettuce, three or four; pepper, salsify,
radish, endive, egg-plant, cabbage, spi
nach, tomato, turnip, four or five; as
paragus, onion, celery, okra, broccoli,
cauliflower, five or six; beet, cucum
ber, gourd, melon, squash, pumpkin,
corn and other grains, six to ten years
or longer. It is impossible to say how
long seeds may be made to preserve
their vitality with proper care ; but it
is certain any. sort may be spoiled in
one year, by damp or neat. The great
secret in keeping, is to have them well
matured, and kept cool and dry.
Abuse of Magnesia.
People should be very careful in the
use of Magnesia. It is a very danger
ous substance to use, and there are too
many, we believe, who use it for the
stomach for “ heart burn,” wlio do not
know the dangers attending its .employ
ment for that purpose. The use of it
has been the cause of many eases of
“stone,” and it has been discovered
that the terrible disease in Switzerland
called Goitre, is* due to the * action of
magnesian salts on the systems of the
inhabitants—the stilts being found in
solution with the waters of the Swiss
valley*'
I cannot bear children,’ said Mrs.
Prim, disdainfully, Mrs Partington
mildly replied, looking over her spec
tacles,
‘ Perhaps if you could, you would
like them better.’ ' g
| I>ROM the S. Y. HERA L.D.]
The Richmond Junta.
Let me say a word or two about
the Junta, the “Richmond Junta,” a
central power which long controlled
the politics of Virginia, and, with it, of
many Other Shut hem States besides.
The Junta dates its birth in 1824, and
was composed -principally of old friends
of Crawford. Its prominent original
members were 4'horn as Ritchie, Dr.
Brockenbrougli, Peter V. Daniel,
Judge Phillip Norborne Nicholas, John
Rutherford, Andrew Stevenson; &c.
This body was, in the beginning,
purely aristocratic, and in its soeial po
sition and political influence would
have sent a thrill of admiration io
Brownsonfs very marrow. Its mem
bers were old Virginia gentlemen, of
the most spotless linen and unimpeach
able patriotism—dignified but genial
old cocks, fond of good blood and
good wine, and altogether unadultera
ted in breed, habits, manners and as
sociations with anything pleoian. This
central Junta for many a long year
ruled*the roost in Virginia, guided and
controlled the political movements of
the State, and did everything in their
own fashion, assisted sometimes by
some of the prominent lights < f the
provinces, such as Thomas Jefferson
Kamit4ph, General Drorngoole, Colonel
Joe Watkins, W. H. Roane—who,
though a country gentleman, spent
much of his time in town —and other
rural celebrities. The resolutions of
’9B-’99, were the political Bible of this
Junta, and the name which they pecu
liarly affected was republican. Every
thing with these gentlemen was repub
lican. They were the republican par
ty. Os democracy, either political or
social, they knew nothing, and wish
ed to know nothing. Yon are famil
iar with the history of Thomas Ritchie,
the master spirit of this Junta, and the
editor of the central organ. He was
the Napoleon of the political press —
the most long-headed, subtle, and inde
fatigable of political editors. There
was no end to this man’s influence with
his party in Virginia. They believed
him to be thoroughly disinterested,
and entirely destitute of all desire for
personal aggrandizement or official
promotion. This was the great secret
of his influence. He knew the Vir
ginia character as entirely as Paganini
knew his violin, and lie played on it
with as great skill and success. The
Richmond Enquirer was more than a
match for the whig press, even when it
had a Hampden Pleasants at its head,
and all the whig orators of the State
combined. It followed these orators
all over Virginia, answered their ar
guments, laughed at their eloquence,
and made their cause odious and them
selves ridiculous. It healed up dif
ferences and reconciled disaffected pol
iticians in its own party with the most
consuinma'e art and tact. It had in
every hamlet, of the State a large
number of Brutuses, Catos, and other
TuckaLoe and Coliee Romans, (besides
a multitude of Greeks,) who contribu
ted freely to the columns of the En
quirer, and imagined that by their
cackling they had saved the State. In
this sweet delusion they were not dis
couraged bv the Nestor of the Virginia
press. Such was the central organ of
the Richmond Junta.
The force bill and proclamation of
Gen. Jackson sorely perplexed these
worthy gentlemen. They were for a
season sadly disgruntled thereby. It
was a difficult matter to hold on to
their ’9B and ’99 conscientious scruples
and hold on to power at the same mo
ment. For a time they were much
troubled, and even disaffected; but
they finally succumbed, under Mr.
Ritchie’s polite qualifications, accepting
t e proclamation, except some “doctri
nal points.” Some more shuffling and
disaffection were caused by Jackson's
removal < f the deposits. Among the
disaffected who went off at that time
were Win. 11. Roane, John Thomp
son Brown, (a bright and shining light
of the party,) Thos. Walker Gilmer,
and others. The Junta, however,
were soon relieved of their disaffection,
forgetting the manner in which' the
thing was done, in regard for the thing
itself. They even became eulogists of
the removal of the deposits, and their
ardor was by no means abated after
the deposite in the State banks. Two
of the members of the Junta were
presidents of State institutions. They
went on sustaining Old Hickory in his
iron rule, though their aristocratic lio- i
tions utterly revolted at the extreme
democracy of Jackson’s fo’lc. They
were the very last to adopt the title of
democrat, and when they did, it was
like a ‘hild taking a bitter pill; but
they finally managed to swallow it
with tolerable grace. At a Still later
day, under the reign of Polk and Cab
bage, the Junta was no longer exclu
sively niade of patricians. Plebians
began to'find their way into the hollow
circle. But the power and glory of the
Richmond Junta are now, alas, mat
ters of history only. The Junta is at
these writings a dead cock in the pit.
The old aristocrats who composed it
have long since died or left the me
tropolis; and seeing the subjection of
the central power to the casualties of
existence—discovering that they are
no more immovable and immortal than
other men—the country people have
lost faith in the Richmond J unta. From
the time of Mr. Ritchie’s removal from
Richmond, to take charge of the
Washington Union , the Junta was a
watch which had lost the mainspring,
and it ceased to go. The hands were
still there, but it wasn’t often that they
pointed to the timg of day. The great
central organ—the Enquirer , the me
dium of the Junta—was impaired in
influence, not-only on account of Mr.
Ritchie’s removal, but from the fact
ot his consenting to accept office. The
democracy had been .taught that the
great democratic teacher was beyond
the reach ot official inducement. The
old line republicans thought Wash
ington rather a corrupt place. It was
a mysterious dispensation, and a sore
discouragement to the faithful—Mr.
Ritchie’s going to Washington. In the
meantime another potent agent appear
ed upon the scene in anew democratic
paper the Richmond I
new journal soon shared th e ' 1
and authority formerly ex ( .i„ P °' Ver I
wielded by the Richmond
Its editor was John M. Daniel ? ***■ I
tleman whose name has attaint’,] gCn ’ 1
notoriety by his political I
and who is now American minUtS^
I urin. Mr. Darnel was a mere v at '
when he mounted the editorial 0y
of tile Examiner- but i„«„>M
quirements, energy and courasre T
was a man Though of an S*
\ lrguiia family—a nephew of one i
the old bloods of the Richmond J u , ?
—and neither able nor desirous to cor
ceal his contempt of the canaille D an '
iel was an out and out Young A me '
ican, and a regular knock-down, <] ra ' r '
out tomahawk and scalping-knife party
editor. Being quite as prompt with
the pistol as the pen, he soon create,]
an impression, aroused the admiration
of his party friends and produced a
wholesome caution in the bosom of hi s
enemies. Since Mr. Daniel left his
foreign mission, the Examiner has been
edited by Mr. Hughes, one of the
most powerful political writers in the
country. The Examiner has openly
assailed the Richmond Junta, and
finally succeeded in breaking it down.
The recent Democratic Convention or
dered a State Committee to be consti
tuted, whose members should be dis
tributed all over the State, and both
organs, the Enquirer and Examiner ,
published an ollicial annonneement of
the fact, and Avith that announcement
died the Richmond Junta.
Take notice of another fact in con
nection with the loss to the democratic
party of the great central power which
has so long marshalled their ranks and
guided them to victory. At this in-
auspicious juncture comes the nomin
tion of Henry A. Wise, a few years
ago the most bitter reviler and de
nouncer of the Junta and of the de
mocracy in general. Before his nom
ination, the Examiner published ex
tracts from his old whig speeches, and
did its best to sow distrust and aversion
towards him among the rank and file
of the old democracy. The Examiner
cannot answer itself if it tries from
now till the day of the election. Wise
is nominated, but the democracy are
disaffected and disgusted. At this mo
ment the Know Nothings appear in the
field, with all the might of their vast
and secret conclav s. I shall give you
something of their history hereafter;
but it is enough for the present to say
that they will number nearly half, if
not quite half, the votes of the State on
the election day. Henry of Accomac
will rue the hour when he challenged
the black knight, with his vizor down,
to the field.
A large meeting of the whigs of
Henrico (this) county, lately a sein
bled, pjfesed almost unanimous resolu
tions against holding a whig nomina
ting convention until a late day in the
canvass. They also expressed their
disapproval of a whig convention at
any time, but would withdraw their
opposition if held at the time indicated.
A death blow to Botts from his own
neighbors. 'A pregnant sign of the
campaign against Wise.
Know Something.
Wooing a Wife—A Singular Court
ship.
We copy the following strange re
lations from Headley’s Adironack, or
Life in the Woods: The other day I
took a heavy boot to a shoe maker, or
rather mender, of whom I was told a
capital anecdote. An English emigrant
had settled down in a remote part of
the forest, where he cleared a little
space about him and built a log hut.
lie had beeu there but a year or two,
] when one day as he was absent in the
; woods with nis eldest daughter, his hut
took fire and burned down, llis wife
was sick, but she managed to crawl
out, taking the straw bed on which
she lay with her. At evening the
husband returned to find his house in
ruins. It was a winter night, and the
snow lay deep ou the ground. Call
ing aloud, he heard a faint voice reply,
and going in the direction from which
it came, found his wife stretched on
the bed in the snow. Getting togeth
er a few boards which were left from
the conflagration, he made a shelter
over her. That night she was safely
delivered of a child which survived,
and is now living. But under the ex
posure and excitement together the
husband took a violent cold, which,
having fastened on his lungs, and be
ing resisted by no medical treatment
whatever, terminated in the consump
tion. He, however, reared another
hut, and daring the summer a young
settler came in and purchased a tract
near by him. His being the only ikrn
ily within a long distance, this back
woodsman often passed the evening in
their society. It was not long belore
he discovered that his neighbor could
not long survive, for the most ignorant
in those regions knew all the symp
toms of pulmonary disease, which car
ries off three-fourths of all those who
die. Accompanying this conclusion,,
came naturally the reflection what
would become of the wife; and as she
was good looking and industrious he
thought he could not do better than to
marry her himself. Acting under this
conclusion, he mentioned the matter
to her, remarking that her husband
would not live long, and asking her if
she would marry him after ne was
dead ?
She replied that she had no objection
at all, if her “husband was willing.”
He said he had no doubt on that point
and he would speak to him about it.
lie did so, and the husband unhesita
tingly gave his consent, adding that he
was glad she would be so well provi
ded for after liis death. So when the
winter appioached, the young settler
would come and “court” the prospec
tive widow, while the dying husband
lay and coughed on the bed in the cor
ner.
A Scottish hotel-keeper recently discovered a
mouse killed in his cellar, under tho following nov
el circumstances: It appears that the littlo depre
dator had bcou gnawing through the cork siring
of some bottled perry, when the cork must instant
ly have blown out, hurliug the mouse to a consid*
rable distance, and producing immediate death.