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|Y J. A. TURNER, j
/OLUME 11.
Iloctrii.
Sorrows of Werther,
BY THACKERAY.
Werther had a love for Charlotte, -
Suoh as words could never utter,
Would you know, how first he mot her,
She was cutting bread and butter.
Charlotte was a married ladj, ,
And a moral man was Werther,
And for all the wealth of India..
Would do nothing that mig?: hurt her.
So he sighed, and pined, and ogled
And his passion boiled and bubbled,
Till he blew his silly brains out.
And no more was by them troubled.
Cha lotte having seen ids body.
Borne before her on h shutter,
Like a well conducted person,
Went on cutting hr.-ait and butter.
Jtlisctlliuieous.
A ntl>hipaian's First Love.
We were lying in the harbor of Ge
noa —"the City of Palaces.'’ Our
frigate one of the finest in the Amer
ican navy, was in splendid trim —her
decks clean and white as “ holystones”
could make them, her brass-work glit
tering like burnished gold, and not a
belaying-pin or ring-bolt but shone
like? polished steel. Our crew, too, as
fine a set of fellows as ever manned one
of Uncle Sam’s floating batteries, were
in excellent discipline, and, with their
white frocks turned over with blue,
their black neckerchiefs, snowy duck
trowsers, and glossy black tarpaulins,
thev presented a beautiful, uniform,
and sailor-like appearance. Our ship
was open, during the day, to visitors,
and a great many availed themselves
of the opportunity to examine and
admire one of the most splendid spec
imens of naval architecture that eyer
floated on those waters —a model man
of-war. from the great model republic.
The Genoese were particular delighted,
and exhibited the best evidences of
that sympathy which men born on the
same soil with Columbus, and enjoy
ing the traditions of a once free and
happy government themselves, natu
rally feel for the freemen of that mighty
cl me which their illustrious country
man, under Providence, redeemed from
barbarism, and gave as the grand the
atre of human development through
enlightenment and liberty. Invita
tions flowed in upon our officers fiorn
all quarters, and a most delightful time
they had of it. For inv own part, I
was perfectly enchanted with Genoa,
or ought to have been, if it be true
that "distance lends enchantment to
the view;” for it was only from the
deck of our ship that I hud any oppor
tunity of contemplating the ‘‘superb
city.” I had been refractory in the
eyes of our “first luff”—a perfect
Tartar —and was enjoying the pleas
ures of quarantine., {J*??
It is no facile matter to repress the
buoyancy of a midshipman s spirits,
however, especially when lie has an
easy conscience, a clean shirt-, and is
out of debt to the purser—go 1 tookr
it quietly. I was masters mate of the
gun-deck, and had plenty of leisure,
after the morning watch, to dress ana
play the dandy —an amusement I wgs
rather given to, anyhow, but which af
forded me peculiar satisfaction at that
time, as it offered the only means by
which I could touch the sensibilities of
iny tyrant, who was quite a “Beau
Brummel,” but as antiquated in his
notions as that worthy would seem,
could he re-appear in his favorite cos
turne upon the world’s stage at this
latter day. What made our “first
luff” more sensitive, was the want of
that happy self conceit without which
foppery is awkward. He seemed to
know that the cut of his garments
wan antiquated, and made various en
deavors to modernize them; but wheth
er the tailors were perverse, or wheth
er he lacked perception in giving his
orders, somehow the fashions of “long,
long ago” prevailed over all his at-
Dressed in a close round
jacket, snow-white trousers of exquis
ite fit, with my rakish little cap set
jauntily on my head, I used to strut by
him with all the airs of conscious su-
periority in taste and elegance, and was
fairly delighted when ordered to some
disagreeable duty, which being sure to
disarrange my apparel, was, I thought,
an evidence of his envy. In ten min
utes after it was over, I always appear
ed on deck as scrupulously neat as be
fore. Whether the “ first luff ”• had
conscientious motives in behalt of my
washerwoman, or CQinmisei ation on
the shortness of a middy’s purse, he
seldom put me to trial twice in one
I believe Isaid we were an -
chored off Genoa. It was a bright
and beautiful day, about which an
Englishman might have gone into ec
atacies, but which one accustomed to
our American skies would not have-
, ■ ■ -w . - • / ,
% founuil :--jjp rtotrt to fitatare, ftolitics, mill dciteral liiscdlai).
thought “ mutih to brag of.” Iliad
gone through mv morning duties,- fin
ished lhv toilet, and was leaning ' over
the hammock-nettings on the quarter
deck, watching a boat-load of o cefs
wild had just put oil' for the shore, the
“first lull’” among them, fi|Jed with
bright anticipation's of pleasure. I be
gan to feel my confinement a little
irksome, and had halt determined I
would praise the first lieutenant's last
new coat to his boy, who not uiifre
quontly brought Ins garments for me
to exerg sc my critical acumen upon,
when a frank bluff voice hailed me
from the other side of the deck,
“1:1 ere 4 , youngster why didn't; you
go ashore with the rest of tltem, ns
you seem to have bn vour ‘muster’
suit?''
The inquiry was put by the second
lieutenant, a rough, kind-hearted man,
“every inch a sailor,” and barring his
brusque manners, a true gentleman.
“I am in quarantine, sir.”
“What, for? Not neglect of duty,
I hope ? :!
“No, sir; I differed with the first
lieutenant about painting the comb
ings of the hatches on the gun-deck.”
“1 remember, and you were right.
I am first lieutenant to-day, so get
ready and go ashore in the next boat,
if you wish.”
“Thank you, sir; but I would rath
er not. I’ll apply to the captain when
I want my quarantine taken off.”
“Well, perhaps you are right,” said
ho, appreciating at once ray motive,
which was to prevent any unpleasant
ness between him and the first lieu
tenant ; “but don’t forget to come in
the ward-room and dine with me to
day.”
1 accepted the invitation, and was
about to enter into conversation with
him, when the quartermaster reported
a shore-boat alongside with a gentle
man and some ladies who wished to
come on board. The officer stepped
lightly upon the “horse block,” and,
looking over the side, saw at once they
were respectable persons. .
“Let them come on board, quarter
master,” said be. “Mr. B——, this is
a chance for you—therms a pretty girl
in the boat. Go and receive them at
the gangway.”
I obeyed promptly. The first who
came up was, sure enough, a beautiful
girl. Her golden locks, fair complex
ion, aud large, dove-like eyes, might
have welt told me she was no native
of a 'sunny clime ; but I had seen
blondes even in Italy, and was not in
a very discriminating humor, so I at
once essayed to address her in Ital
ian, which I had been studying dili
gently a whole month : —“ Yolete pren
dere il miabracchia , segnorina."
“That’s literal enough,” thought I;
but what was my astonishment, not to
say confusion, when the reply came in
English—such sweet, soft tones, redo
lent of home rtA>ilection :—“ Thank
you; I believe I’ll wait until papa
comes;” and doubtless seeing that
I looked embarrassed, she added,
with perfect self-possession —“ but I
will take a seat on this gun-slide in
the meantime, if you please.”
In a few seconds, a tall, stately
Englishman,-assisting an elderly lady,
appeared at the top of the accommoda
tion-ladder, and I hastened to offer my
services. They were followed by a
younger girl, not so pretty. As soon
as he stood upon the deck, the gentle
man returned my salute, and said—“l
understood in the city that your
frigate was open to visitors; and,
feeling anxious to see an American
um?i-of-war, took the liberty to come
on board without an invitation.”
“You are welcome, sir, and I shall
be most happy to show you the ship,”
I replied,, at the same time agiTin offer
ing my arm to the dove-eyed beauty,
f did this because I saw the appear
ance of the party laid attracted the
attention of a group of < ffkfers pear
tall rail, who were approaching, and I
had no idea of being cut out. Wheth
er the young lady divined my motive
l cannot say; but site looked at her
father with a smile, and receiving a
nod of approval, said sweetly—“l will
take your arm now, if you please sir.”
The second lieutenant earne up, and,
exchanging .salutations with the' Eng
lishman, ordered me' to escort him
through the ship. This I did with
pleasure, explaining, with all the elo
quence and volubility of which T was
master, everything of interest. Eng
lishmen ifil know something, about na
val matters, and I found the one in
question well informed,- and disposed
to take great interest in all he saw.
Hence it was easy to protract' their
visit, wluchT did not fail to do; for there
was something; in the.sweer, iidniely
words of my companion that went
right to my heart.
When every part of the ship had
been visited, : aiid thqre was nothing to
detain the party except to offer them
some hospitality, I invited them to the
captain’s cabin. This teas at first de
clined, with the natural diffidence of
well-bred folks to anything, that,.seem
ed like intrusion; but I knew our
good.old captain well, besides being
-an assured favorite —so I insisted, giv
ing the orderly notice to -p,n flounce us
at the same time, and of course They
yielded.,
Gapt, frank
and gentlemanly, and rphteved any
EATONTON, GY., SATURDAY, MARCH 3, 1855.
scruplos the Englishman might have
'entertained as to his welcome. Our
time passed very pleasantly, and whs
only interrupteJ by the English gen
tleman’s remembering he had a boat:
wailing.
“Never B -will'at
tend.to that,” said our urbane skipper,-
“and the frigate’s boat will set you oti
shore.”
I flew upon deck, and dismissed the
boat. On my return, I found the par
ty just coming out of the cabin for an
other tout 1 of inspection. Mary-Ahat
was her name—had been monopolised
by a•.commander, who hap
pened to be a guest of our captain for
tlic time .oc’rhg—confound him! I
fancied he srmk-d in triumph at mo as
I was obliged K> offer rny "arm tb the
younger sister. When we returned to
the cabin, we found an excellent lunch
set out., which was properly apprecia
ted. I availed myself of the second
lieutenant’s friendly disposition so far
as to accompany the party ashore. The
old gentleman returned me many
thanks, and just as they landed, Mary
said—“ Papa, perhaps Mr. B will
take a family dinner with us to-day.”
“Thank ydif,” said I, endeavoring to
look mv gratitude; “but I cannot be
excused from duty. ”
“We should be very happy, and the
captain, I am sure, would spare, you,”
said the father, with that genuine frank
ness a true welcome always has.
“I fear not, as \ye sail to-morrow.”
“Oh, you go to* Leghorn, I heard
your commander say?”
“I believe so, sir.”
“Os eburse, you intend visiting
Florence, Mr. B— — ” said Mary.
! “We expect to leave for that city, also,
to-morrow.”
“I shall certainly try to go there,
said I.
“I)o, for we shall be there some time,
and would be delighted to meet you,
and return your kindness of to-day,”
said the father.
A cordial pressure of the hand from
all parties, and I pulled back moodily
! to tho ship.
'"Me voila! in Florence 1 Hov did
you get there.?” asks the reader. Why,
thanks to rny friend the second lieu
tenant, who brought my case before
the captain, my quarantine was remov
ed when we got to Leghorn, and in
j company with three of my messmates,
j I set out in a lumbering old vehicle
I which we hired for the enormous sum
of' seven dollars. The incidents of the
journey were unimportant, except that
two of rny companions came near en
acting over the story of the white and
black hogs, in Tuscany, until I pacified
matters,by telling it to them. Arrived
at Florence, we were soon quartered at
a very agreeable English boarding
house, and at once ceinmenced sight
seeing. For rny own part, I was in a
land of romance, and seemed to walk
on air. At my age—-seventeen sum
mers —one naturally looks through a
rose-colored atmosphere, and I confess
that even to this day jny recollections
of the beautiful ’city of the Medici are
like thosmof a pleasant dream.
We found oifr distinguished coun
tryman, tiie lion. 11. H. Wilde, so
journing in Florence, and were indebt
ed to his kindness for many agreeable
hours. Sacred is his memory to all
who knew him! The morning after
out arrival, we visited the Florence
gallery. The wonders of art which
surrounded me soon engrossed all my
attention. With such a cicerone as*
Mr. Wilde, the dullest apprehension
could not fail to be enlivened ; bu t, to
my fresh young nature, alj was wonder
and delight;. The Tribune as it is
Called—a small octagonal room,'en
riched with the purest gems of the ar
tist’s genius which the world possesses
—was reserved for' the last. The v e,
inafnortai as the spirit of, beauty which
it typifies,* is the Medicean Venus.
There also are the’ St. John and Ve
nus of Titan, the voluptuous Fornari
na of Raphael, and Van Dyke’s
Charles V. No one collection oft earth
contains such treasures!
I entere' l a little ahead of my com
panion,.not always waiting for the ex
planations, lucid and ‘ interesting as
they were, of our guide. At t at ear
ly day I eared little for the histojy of
art—my only knowledge was to ad
mire. How the presence of beauty
diffuses an indefinable sensation of
pleasure ! I paused at the'threshold of
the temple, awed and subdued. Before
me was a world of loveliness, even in tho
lifeless canvass,-and cold hard
but lovelier than all* to my enraptured
vision—warm, breathing, animate—
with’parted lips, flushed cheek, and
soul-beaming oyes.-gthe.re stood' before
me the unperson A® of all my ideas
■of beauty, the peerless Mary ipw 1
True passion l reffpes and restrains*;
and had not rny social education tgiigbt
rile that too great empressMmt. was ill
bred,. diffidence alone teould ha Ye field
we,back; ps it was, ygy approch was
.frank, but modest. pj’ie recognized
me and.with evident’satisfac
, tio.n. . tepug years have passed, snd
yet the thrill which her soft tones, sent
i through in v breast stiff vibrates along
the strings of ngemory,
“ Mamma and papa are in tke gal
lery, and will be delighted to s e you.
: 1.-a iw find them.”
# • w
IfiiNfiDlß (D£U AiKKMWIW>«»» —
There was natural frankness in this
invitation which puj me at once at 'my
ease.
“I won’t attempt to ask von in Ital
ian again until I am better acquainted
with the idiom, ” said I, offering my
arm.
“Oh, you must certainly cultivate
Italian,” said she, accepting rny escort
without hesitation.
We soon found her party, passing
on our way my own friends, w' o ga
zed in evident admiration and envy at
the lovely prize I had picked up. Mr.
•S received me not only kindly,
but almost fraternally."' The ice once
broken, there are no warmer-heated
people than the English. My age, too,
was such, that I was the more readily
admitted en farm lie : and lat once ex
perienced the delightful glow of home
reelings’.
The next morning I breakfasted with
mv friends at their hotel, and accom
panied them to the Pitti Palace ; and
from that time I was every day, during
my stay, included in their plans of
amusement. ft;was delightful—intox
icating! And never was a midship
man happier— fora week ! The tiuie
of my stay began to draw to a close,
and I became correspondingly misera
ble. The S family were evidently
Sorry to part witii me, and hoped 1
might visit England before I returned
to my own country.
Tne night before my intended de
parture I declined an invitation to join
my companions at an entertain me iit
given by Un American geht.lernan resi
dent in Florence; my English ir-iehns
I knew were engaged out and I deter
mined to pass the evening in solitude
and thought. One of rny mess-inaies
happening to feel unwell, returned
home again, however, and found me
with three or four sleets of paper,
scribbled ( ver and blotted before me.
“ljalld, B ! what are you at?
Writing your travels, eh?”
“Only scribbling,” said I, gathering
up my effusions.
“Sonnets to yeur fair one’s eyes, eh ?
Well, she is beautiful, and no mis
take ! I don’t blame you for being
spooney, Jack. Why don’t you mar
ry her? I have no doubt the is rich
as Croesus,”
“No joking,.Fred, for I am regularly
floored,” said I, opening my heart to
his friendly sympathy; “and I know
all hope is madness.”
“Remember the old adage of Taint
heart,’Jack. ’Fake rny advice—burn
up all that silly writing, aud tell her
right out to her face that you love her,
and that .you’ll go home and resign,
and go to Congress just to marry her;
for, confound our navy, there is no
iiope of a fellow being a captain or a
commodore until he is gray headed.”
Don’t smile, reader. Fred was in
earnest in his sympathy, and more
than half earnest in his advice; for
midshipmen are generally romantic,
andnot always worldly-wise. Well, we
discussed tlm matter Over a bottle of
wine, and I made up mv mind to do
something and then went to
bed and dreamed I was a post-captain
and Mary S—— my bride.
There must have been a great
change in my countenance next morn;
ing, for at the breakfast table—l was
taking my last, -meal with the S
family —all noticed it, aud asked me if
I were sick; I might well have an
swered yes, at heart, but I rallied and
was soon as gay to all appearance as
ever.
After the meal was finished, Mr.
S——, with his youngest daughter,
went out to. make some purchases, tell
ing me not leave until they return* and,
as it was the last day we should see
each other.
“Oh no 1 Jack shall stay, and I will
charm his ‘blues’ with music,” said
Mary playfully.
I did not like the familiarity with
which the, bea tiful girl addressed me,
■ delightful as it had hitherto been, for
it lowered my sense of dignity, and
was not auspicious of success to my
desperate hopes.
The old lady left us to attend to
some domestic matters, and we were
alone. Mary sat down to the piano,
and, after running her lingers over
the keys, asked me what song I would
have.
“The first which comes,” said I,
picking up a piece of music from that
which lay before me, and handing it to
her.
She smiled as she began, in a simple
and exquisite voice—
“ He was. a knight of low degree,
And a ludy high was she.”
What fate placed that song at my
hands? By the.timc she finished, my
very heart was melting with tender
ness, and, on looking up, I saw Mary
bet self was not without emotion.
With the impulse of the moment, I
sank on my kaees and uttered the
burning words that came in lava-tide
from my heart. Mary was startle <at
first, but her manner subsided into
one of deep interest. As I concluded
with an eager hyperbole, extravagant
enough perhaps, but te*ith the impress
of truthfulness in every word, she laid
Her hand gently on my head, while her
eyes were moiltf and angelic sweet
ness was in her; soft modulated tones,
and sard: .*■ - ,
1 “Poor boy !I am truly grieved to
™ « Jp;
see you feel s<> much, but you will soon
forget me, or remember me only as
one who felt a sister’s kindness for
yon.”
“I dreamed last night—”
u Let it still be a dream, Jack, and if
any thought of me can cheer you to
good and noble actions, you shall be
my dream-lover.” This was said in a
tone of half raillery, half tenderness;
but so calm and earnest that it tolled
the death-knell of all my Lopes, if in
fact I had any.
Notwithstanding all her kindness, I
wasfairly overwhelmed with confu
sion, and woulu 'lave retreared precip
itately ; but, with a kindness which
never lost its impression upon my
heart, she soothed away each ruffled
feeling.
“Come, Jack, you shall take a morn
ing walk with me along the pleasant
banks of the Arno. I would not have
you part with me so sadly; and .when
you write poetry hereafter-—do you
know, I hink you a poet?—then you
may immortalize in verse this little epi
sode in cothour lives.”
That hour’s walk by the Arno 1
My heart learned many a lessen then
which it will never forget, and he ex
perience of years confirm the wisdom
of that young English girl, so full of
truth and tenderness! She had no
love to give me in my sense of the
term, but the influence of her.spirit has
been .upon me through life, always -to
soothe ami to bless, and, hovering at
the portals of the eternal gate to .wel
come me, in the guise of white-winged
ang*.ls, will await the pare and holy
sympathies she evoked in the happy
hour! —/Sunday Times.
The Fascination of Intellect in
Woman.
“ I got back to Paris in high spirits,
and certes , I had reason enough to be
abundantly satisfied with my trip to
the land of Tell. All doubtful points
were cleared up. I bad ascertained
Miss Gamhle’s regard forme not only
from her confidante, Mary, but at last,
from her own confession, and by the
pledge of her hand to me in proof of
it. Whatever apprehensions might
still beset me as to future crosses, I
had none as to the final redemption of
the hand she had so dc’iberafely and
repeatedly plighted. Old John'Wes
ley in the height of his religious fer
vor, never put more trust in the ‘pro
mise’ immortal, than I did in that of
the fallible lady whose vows I relied
on.
“Faith, —mighty Faith the promise sees,
And looks to that alone ;
Laughs at impossibilities,
And cries—lt shall be doue!”
“On my side, I was better satisfied
than ever with my engagement, for
notwithstanding her playful conceits
and coquettish sallies, my mind had
never altered as to her real worth. I
was satisfied that, when ‘it was all
over/ as Mary expressed it, she would
seltleaowfi into a sensible, and certain
ly most captivating wife and compan
ion. There was much, I observed,
in her disposition congenial to my own.
Her buoyant temperament and viva
cious manners harmonized with rny
own mercurial nature. There were,
besides, good breeding, grace, . and
amiability. Loftier traits were not
wanting; for I could discern a bold
spirit and uncommon force of charac
ter. But the great attraction of all
(and to me an indispensable one in
man or woman,) was lier vigorous and
highly cultivated intellect. The fas
cination of an original and powerful
mind has for me something inde
scribable. In a man, it exercises a
singular sway over my feelings, what
ever other drawbacks may clog it; but
in a woman, it stirs within rhe an ad
miration that amounts to fanaticism.
“This, I believe, is not common to
all men, for the sterner sex are apt to
look with jealousy and dislike on a
bas-bleu as an interloper upon territory
that belongs exclusively to themselves.
However this may be, a superior intel
lect in a woman, united as it invariably
is to a great strength of character, has
always enchained whilst it humbled
me. Intellect and energy in men seem
to me more a matter of course; for
with these, instruments, as it were,
they carve their way to fortune’s
heights; but in women, on the contra
ry, they are for the most part stum
bling blocks to their success in life. It
is by softer attributes that their desti
ny is accomplished ; and nature has or
dained that woman’s influence should
rather exert its spell over the heart
than the reason of the rougher sex.
Thus, an intellectual woman is rather
an exception to her sex, and her setting
up asa rival in mental effort not only
exposes her to the loss of male sympa
thy, butj as I ba.ve said, is calculated
to .excite positive feelings of aversion.
A woman of genius has, therefore, a
cruel choice to make/ and, before she
ventures upon a sttiurgle with the
other sex, in the lofty domains of let
ters and science, she must have gone'
through a painful estimate of the sac
rifices, and, above all, the self-denial
necessary for the task. Tile high cul
tivation of her intellect demands in a
woman the abdication of Iter true des
tiny; and it is for this voluntary mar
fyrdorn, perhaps, that T look up to
them with so much deferenee and as-1
section. Os all the characters that |
flitted across that mighty scene, the J
French Revolution, there are nbne, in ’
my view, to surpass in true ■ heroism j
Madame Roland. To say nothing of
her intellectual powers, what an ama
zing triumph of mind over feminine
nature to refuse, as she did, an easy
escape from her prison, and to meet'
a terrible death with the calm courage
of a soldier.
“I have somewhat clumsily en
deavored to explain a trait, if not a
peculiarity, of my u...macter ; and thus
it is, that not only in my own country,
but in the many I have visited, I have
sought with avidity the acquaintance
of Ids femmes d'esprit. It may, there
fore, be seen and credited that, of all
Miss Gamble’s attractions for me, her
line mind stood highest on the list.” —•
Wikoff's “ Courtship and its Conse
quenccs.' 1
Matrimony.
Marriage is the mother of the world,
and preserves kingdoms, and fills ci
ties, and churches, and Heaven itself.
An unmarried maa is like a fly in the
lmart of an apple—jte dwells'in a per
petual sweetness, but dwells aloue, and
is confined and dies, in singularity'.—
But marriage, like the useful bee,
builds a house and gathers sweetness
from every flower, and labors and
unites in to aud republics, and
sends outculonks, and feeds the world
with delicacies, and exercises many
virtues, and promotes the interests of
mankind, and is that state of good
things to which God hath designed the
constitution of the world.
Moments of Melody.
I remember once upon the margin
of a stream, in one of the low, shelter
ed valleys on tSallisbury Plain, where
tiie monks of former ages had planted
chapels and built hermit’s cells, ihere
was a little parish church,, but tall
elms and quivering alders hid it from
sight, when, all on a sudden, I was
startled by tiie sound of a full organ
pealing on the ear, accompanied by
rustic voice*’, and tiie willing choir of
village maids and children. It rose,
indeed, “ like, an exhalation of rich
distilled perfume.”. The dew from a
thousand pastures was gathered in its
softness; the silence of a thousand
years spoke in it. It came upon the
heart like the calm beauty of death;
fancy caught the sound, and faith
mounted oil it to the skies. It filled
the valley like a mist, aud poured
out its endless chant as it swelled on
the ear, and wrapped me, in a golden
trance, drowning the noisy tumult of
the wprld.- -IIazLITT.
“ The Mysteries of Trade. ”
Our friend from \Y- n told a
good story the other day of a pack ped
lar who \vas exposing certain wares for
sale at auction not a thousand miles
from here. .Mounting his stand, lie
commenced, “ SJienteelmens, here is
one very splendid pocket hanchief;
how much am I offered for it ?
Five cent! five cent! slioost ago in at
five cent! Ycre is that • shenteelman
vat 1 sec blow • his nose mit his coat
sleeve toder day ?. Five Cent! five
cent! goin, goin at only live cent —
one very fine silk hanchief! goin, go
in, gone, to Mr. Cash, “ at five cent.”
(A voice in the crowd— I don’t see
how he can sell at that price.”) “0,
I manage dat" very easy —I h‘\sh von
proder at de Nort vot can steal more
dan I can sell at any price.” —Athens
Watchman.
Arsenic Eaters.
A French medical journal has un ar
ticle.on the arsenic eaters of Europe. —*
This poison, deadly in its effects when
taken in large doses, is eaten in minute
quantities by the peasants of Aus
tria, particularly females, to increase
their flesh and give roundness to their
limbs. The practice of eating arsenic
also lias the effect of rendering them
more enduring, and facilitates respira
tion in mounting steep ascents. Arse
nic is often administered to horses in
Vienna, by the grooms and coachmen
of the Austrian capital. They mix a
liberal pinch of the powder witli oats,
or attach to the bridle a fragment of
arsenic as large as a pea, wrapped in
linen and when the horse is harnessed
the saliva dissolves the poison. The
glossy, round aud elegant appearance
of valuable horses in Vienna, and es
pecially the white foam about the
mouth, are generally due to the arse
nic, which, as is well known, increases
salivatiun. It is also given to cattle in
tended for fattening, but it is said not to
increase their weight, though it adds
to their size. The ill effects of this
poison do not manifest themselves till
the practice of using it is stopped, itnd
then, emaciation follows, whteh no
nourishing food can prevent.
• The lady whodid not think it res
pectable to bring up her two children
to work, has lately heard from her two
sons. One of them is a bar-keeper on
n flat boat, and the other is steward of
a briek yard.
j m am 9
1 $2.00 A YEAR, IIV ADVANCE.
NUMBER 9.
Randolph's Views of the Bible.
Tiic lion. Thomas 11. Benton, in his
! reminiscences ol’ public men, has the
! statement in relation to Mr,
| Bandolph, and his 1 religious views and
feelings’ in his latter days :
.‘He had religious impressions, and
a vein of piety, which showed itself
more in private than external obser
vances. He was habitual in his rever
ential regard for the divinity of our
religion ; and one of his beautiful ex
pressions \vas, that ‘ifwoman had lost
us paradise, she had gained us heaven.’
The Bible and Shajvespear were,in his
latter days, his constant’companions,
traveling with him on the road, remai
j mng with,him- in the chamber. The
last time I saw him, (in that last visit
to Washington, alter his return from the
Eussiaii mission, and when he was in
full view of death) I heard him read
the.chapter in the, Eevelation of the
opening of the seals, with such power
and beauty of voice and delivery, and
such depth of pathos, that I felt I had
never heard the chapter read before.—
When he got to the end of the sixth
seal, he stopped the reading, laid the
book open at the place, on his breast,
as he lay on his bed, and began a dis
j course upon the beauty and sublimity
of the Scriptural writings, compared to
which he considered all human compo
sitions vain and empty. Going over
the images presented by the opening
of the seals, he averred that their di
vinity was in their sublimity —that no
human power could take the same ima
ges and inspire the same awe and ter
ror, and sink ourselves into such noth
ingness in the presence of the wrath of
the Lamb—that he wanted no proof of
their divine origin but the sublime feel
ing which they inspired. ’ —Cincinnati
Commercial,
Solemnities of an Oath.
The February number of the Knick
erbocker gets off the following, for tap
benefit of courts/ lawyers, witnesses;
&c.
A,correspondent in Ottawa Cos., Mi
chigan, from whom wc are always glad
to hear, gives us the following “ Scene
in the Mayor’s Court at Grand Rapids,”
Mayor Church presiding. Witness
called .up to be sworn by the clerk.
Clerk—“ You do solemnly swear
Mayor—(with dignity) “ Stop 1 the
witness will hold up his right hand.”
Clerk —“ the man has no right hand,
your Honor.*’
Mayor—(with some asperity) “ Let
him hold up his left hand then.”
Clerk—“He has had the misfortune to
lose his left hand also , as your honor
will perceive.”
Mayor—(savagely) “ Tell him to
hold up his ri Jit Leg then ; a man can
not be sworn in this court without hol
ding up something ! Silence gentle
men, our dignity must be preserved 1”
(Witness sworn on one leg.)
Democracy of New \ork.
In their union against the hostile
tactions, secret and open, of the coun
try, the Democrats of New York seem
to have forgotten all past differences,
and united heart and hand in the com
mon cause. As we learn from the Al
bany Argus, the Democratic members
of the Assembly met together, on last
Tuesday morning, without regard to
past divisions, and agreed with entire
unanimity upon candidates to be sup
ported by' them for officers of the
House. The names agreed tipon were
sustained in tlic Assembly by the De
mocratic members.
Not only the Argus but the Buffalo
Courier; two of the Journals which
supported Mr. Bronson at the last elec
tion, and opposed Gov. Seymour, ex
press their gratification at this result.
As the Union says, the fact is full of
cheering significance. While factions
unite against the Democratic party;
while Abolition takes to its embrace
Kno\\ r Nothingism, and Southern
Whigs do not hesitate to combine
with the enemies of the South—all to
destroy the Democratic party —it is
right and wise that the Democracy
should forget all past differences in ev
ery part of the country, and thus pres
ent a compact front to the enemy.
[Savannah Georgian*. ■
Literary Dog
There is a dog in Liverpool that vis
its all the newspaper offices every
day. He‘generally honors bur estab
lishment with his first visit. For some
hour, or hour and a half, he reclines on
the flags on one side of the doorway,
eyeing the passer-by, and each person
\vho enters. Then he rises, and pro
ceeds to the next adjoining office, the
Standard, when, having gone through
the same observance, he repairs to the
Mercury, and again renews his appa
rent penance. Thence he goes to the
Albion, the journal, and the 1 imes, at
each of whieli places he - similarly
spends about the same space of time
which completes his daily gyrations.--
ft is surmised that he is the dog o
some defunct newsman Lti'trpooi
( Eng.) Courier.
We cannot live better thau in stri*-
jn<r to become better, nor more agree
ably than in having a clear conscience