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life! toons.
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TUB JEW.
k '- %* •'• '. 2. 1 . *
A TALK FROM THE RUSSIAN. :
| was nt Vienna a few rears ago.
After trying several fahles-d'hote, L es
tablished myself at a hotel in the
Judnstrasso, frequented by a select so
ciety. Mr. Muller, m:tsterof tins es
tablishment, did its honors with thor
ough Dorman gravity. Perfect order,
•extreme and conscientious cleanliness,
deigned throughout the house.
Jn the conversation at this iabk-cthote
Uhere prevailed a tone of good society
which excluded neither ease nor pleas
antry; but a caustic or indelicate ex
pression would have jarred on the ear
like a false note in a well executed
concert. The countenance- of Mrs.
Muller, in which dignity was blended
with benevolence, was the barometer
by which the yOuug men "regulated
themselves when the influence of
Rhine wine or Stettin beer might lead
them a little too far. Then Mrs. Mul
ler assumed an air of reserve; by a
few w r ords she adroitly broke oil' the
•conversation, and turned it into an
other channel; and she glanced grave
ly at her daughter, who, without af
fectation or pouting kept her eves lixed
on her plate until the end of the
meal. /
Elicit Muller’s was the type of those
beautiful German faces which the
French call cold, • because they know
not how to read them ; she was a hap
py mixture of the Saxon and Han
overian characters. A pure and open
brow, eyes of inexpressible softness,
lips habitually closed with maidenly
reserve, a transparent complexion,
whose charming blushes each moment
protested against the immobility of her
bearing, auburn hair whose i*ich and
silken curls admirably harmonized
with the serenity of her features, a
graceful and flexible form just expand
ing into womanhood: —such was El
len Muller.
A councilor of the Court, Ilofrath
"Baron von Noth, who had resigned his
functions in consequence of an injus
tice that had been done him, several
students whose parents had recom
mended them to the vigilance of Mr.
Muller, and a few merchants, compo
sed thy majority of the habitual guests.
The party was frequently increased
bv travelers, literary men, and artists.
After dinner, philosophy, politics, or
literature, were the usual topics of
•conversation, in which Mr. Muller, a
man of extensive acquirements and
great good sense, took part, with a
choice of expressions and elevation of
views that would have astonished me
in a rnau of his station in any country
but Germany.
Sometimes Ellen Would sit down to
the piano,-and. sing those simple and
beautiful melodies in which the ten
derness, the gravity, and the piety of
Cue German national character seem to
■mingle.
I was not long in perceiving that
Baron van Noth and a young student
named Werter were particularly sen
sible to Ellen’s charms and merit. In
the Baron, a middle-aged man, there
was a mixture of dignity and eager
ness which betrayed an almost con
stant struggle between pride and the
energy of a strong passion. It is be
tween the ages of thirty and forty
that the passions have most empire
over us. At that period of life the
character is completely formed; and
as we well know what we desire, so
do we strive to attain our end withMl
the energy of a perfect organization.
Werter was little more than nine
teen years old. lie was tall, fair, and
melancholy. I am persuaded that
love had revealed itself to the young
student by the intermediation of the
musical sense. I had more than once
watched him when Ellen sang. A
sort of fever agitated him ; he isolated
himself in a corner of the room, and
there, in mute eestaey, the poor boy in
haled the poison of love.
An attentive observer of all that
passed, 1 did my utmost to read El
len’s heart, and to decide as to the fu
ture chances of the Baron’s or the stu
dents love. She was passionately
lond of narratives of adventure, and,
thanks to the wandering life I had
led, I was able to gratify this taste. I
noticed that traits of generosity’ and
noble devotion produced an extraor
dinary effect upon her. Her eyes
sparkled as 'though she would fain
have distinguished, through time and
space, the hero of a noble action, then
tears moistened her beautiful lashes,
as reflection called her to the realities
of life. I understood that neither the
Baron nor Werter was the man to win
her heart ; they were neither of them
equal to her.
One night, that we were assembled
in the drawing-room, one of the habit
ual visitors to the house presented to
us a Jew, who had just arrived from
Lernburg, and whom business was to
detain for some months at Vienna.
In a few words, Mr. Muller made the
stranger acquainted with the rules and
customs of the house. The Jew re
plied by monosyllables,' as if he dis
dained to expend more words arid in
telligence upon details so entirely ma
terial. •
Mr. Mai thus-—that was the Jew’s
name—had a decided limp in his gait;
he was a man of the middle height,
and of a decent bearing-; his hair wa?
neglected; but a phrenologist would
have read a world of things in the
magnificent development of his fore
head.
The Jew had one of those penetra
ting and sonprus voices wliose tone;
seem to reach the very soul, and whiel
impart to words inflections not less Va
ried than the forms s os thought ll<
summed up the discussion logically ant
lucidly; but it . was ensv to see that
out of consideration for bis ihteridcu
tors, ho abstained from putting fort!
his whole strength.
The conversation was 1 intentionally
led to religious prejudices; at - th<
first words Spoken on this subject,. pq
Jew’s countenance assumed a sublime
expression. He rose at once to the
most elevated considerations; it was
easy too see that his imagination found
itself in a familiar sphere.* He wound
■up with so pathetic and powerful a per
oration, that Ellen, yielding to a sym
pathetic impulse/ made all abrupt
movement towards him. Their two
Souls had met, and were destined mu
tually to complete each other.
Some celebrated authors were spo
ken of; he remained silent. Baron
von Noth leant over towards me and
said, in a low voice, “It seems that
pur new acquaintance is not literary.”
“I should be surprised at that,” I
replied ; “and, what is moro, I would
lay a wager that he is musical.” The
baron drew back, with a movement
of vexation, ami, as if to test my sa
gacity he asked Ellen to sing some
thing. The amiable girl begged him
to excuse her, but without putting for
ward any of those small pretexts
which most young ladies would have
invented on the instant. Her mother’s
authority was needed to vanquish her
instinctive resistance. Her prelude
testified to some unwonted agitation ;
its first notes roused the Jew from his
reverie; soon she recovered herself,
and her visible emotion did but add a
fresh charm to the habitual expression
of her singing.
Suddenly she stopped short declar
ing that her memory had failed her.
Then, to our great astonishment, a
rich ami harmonious voice was heard,
and Ellen continued, accompanied by
the finest tenor I ever listened to in my
fife.
The Baron bit his lips; Werter was
pale with surprise. The warmest ap
plause followed the conclusion of the
beautiful duet.
Malthus had risen from his chair,
and, seemed entirely under the spell of
harmony, ne gave some advice to
Ellen, who listened to him with avid
itj*; he even made her repeat a pas
sage which she afterwards sang with
admirable expression. He took her
hand, almost with enthusiasm, and ex
claimed, “I thank you !”
* * * *
The Jew lead the regular life of a
man who knows the value of time.
He worked until noon, paid or receiv
ed a fe\v visits, went upon Change
about two O’clock, then shut himself
up in his department and was visible
to nobody, and at precisely four o’clock
entered Mr. Muller’s room, where El
len awaited brim at the piano.
Iliad more than once felt tempted
to ask Malthus the history of his lame
ness ; but he eluded with so much
care every possible approach to the
subject, that I deemed myself obliged
to respect his secret.
*****
One night that the family party
were assembled, Werter approached
Mr. Muller with a suppliant air, and
delivered to him a letter from his fath
er. The poor young man’s agitation
made me suspect that the. letter con
tained a proposal. Mr. Muller read it
with attention and handed it to his
wife, who rapidly glanced over it and
cast a scrutinizing glance at her daught
er, to make sure whether or no she
was forewarned of this step. A moth
er’s pride is always flattered under
such circumstances, and the first im
pulse is generally favorable to the man
who has singled out the object of her
dearest affections; but the second
thought is one of prudence ; a separa
tion, the many risks of the future,
soon check the instinctive satisfaction
of the maternal heart, and a thousand
motives concur to arrest the desired
consent.
“-It were well,” she said, “first to
know what Ellen thinks.”
The words were like a ray of light
to the poor girl, whose countenance ex
pressed the utmost surprise,
“Besides, he is very young,” added
Mrs. Muller, loud enough for the Baron
to hear.
Werter’s position was painful; he,
.stammered a few words, became em
barrassed, and abruptly left the room.
“A mere child,” quoth the Baron,
“who should be sent back to his
books.”
Malthus, who had observed all that
passed, rested his two hands on his
stick, like a man disposed to argue the
point, and warmly defended the stu
dent. *
“It cannot be denied,” he said, in
conclusion, “that the young man’s
choice pleads in his favor; and his
.embarrassment, which at that age is
not unbecoming, proves, in my opinion,
tljat, whilst aspiring to so great a hap
piness, lie has sufficient modesty to ad
mit himself unworthy of it.”
“If a declaration were a sufficient
proof of merit,” interrupted the coun
cilor, “X know one man who would
not hesitate”—
“And who is that?” inquired Mrs.
ill-concealed curiosity.
“Myself, madam,” replied the coun
cillor—“Baron von Noth.”
By the way in which this was spo
ken, the dissyllable “myself ” appeared
lengthened by all the importance of
the personage.
“At my age men do not change,”
continued the Baron; “and the present
is a guarantee for the future.”
Ellen was really to be pitied. When
Mai thus took Werter’s part, I saw that
she was on the point of tainting. Her
countenance, naturally so gentle, was
overshadowed by an expression of
vexation and displeasure. She had
taken the Jew’s benevolent defence as
a mark of indifference. Whilst still
under the influence of this painful im
pression, the Baron’s declaration came*
to add to her agitation ; she cast a re
proachful glance at Malthus, sank back
in her chair, andswooned away. The
Jew sprang forward, took her in his
arms, laid her on the sofa, and knelt
down beside her.
“You have not understood me,
then?”, he exclaimed. - ■*.
Ellen opened her eyes and behold at
her feet the man whom her heart had
selected; and, absorbed in her .pas
sions, unconscious of the presence of
those who stood around, she murmur
eH, in’a* feeble voice—
“ Yours! Yours alone!—-ever
youM]/’” A// " /'-W
j “Sir,” said Malthus to Mr. Muller,
“ my proposal comes rather late ; but
I hope you will be so good as to take
it into consideration.”
In the Jew’s manner there Was the
dignity of a man in a position to dic
tate conditions Ellen hud recovered
herself. As to Mr. Muller, there had
nqlbehn time for his habitual phlegm
to become disturbed; but his wife
could not restrain a junileat this dra
matidcomplieatio'n whoso denouement
remained in suspense.
“Mr. Y.,” said she to me somewhat
maliciously, “do you not feel the effect
of example?”
“Perhaps I rniglit have been unable
to resist, ” I replied, “had not Mr.
Malthus declared himself before me.”
Ellen blushed, and the Jew pressed
my hand. Just then Werter re-enter
,ed the room, pale and downcast, like
a man who comes to hear sentence
passed upon him. There was pro
found silence which lasted several
minutes, or at least seemed to me to do
so. At last Mr. Muller broke it.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I am much
flattered by the honor juju have done
me,”—
He paused and seemed to be recall
ing past events to his mind. During
this short silence, Werter gazed at us
in turn with an air of astonishment,
and 1 doubt not that he iucluded me
in the number of Ids rivals.
“I have something to tell you,” con
tinued Mr. Muller, “which will per
haps modify your present intentions.
About ten }’ears ago I had to visit
Berlin, where my father had just died.
The winding up of his affairs proved
complicated and troublesome, and I
was obliged to place, my interest in
the hands of a lawyer who had been
recommended to me as extremely skil
ful. The business at last settled, I
found myself entitled to about forty
thousand florins, which I proposed to
embark in trade. I was happily mar
ried, and Ellen was seven years old.
Our little fortune had been greatly
‘impaired by a succession of losses, for
which this inheritance would compen
sate.'
“One day I went to my lawyer’s to
receive the money. lie had disap
peared taking it with him. Despair
took possession of me; I dared not im
part the fatal news to my wife, and,
I confess it with shame, 1 determined
on suicide. All that day I rambled
about the country, and at nightfall I
approached the banks of the Spree.
Climbing upon the parapet of a high
bridge, 1 gazed with gloomy delight
into the dark waters that rolled be
neath. On my knees upon the stone,
I offered up a short but fervent prayer
to Him who wounds and heels ; I com
mended my wife and daughter to His
mercy, and precipitated invselffrom the
bridge. I was struggling instinctively
against death, when I felt myself seiz
ed by a vigorous arm. A man swam
near me, and drew me towards the
shore, which we both reached.
“It was so dark that I could not dis
tinguish the features of my preserver.
But the tones of his voice made an im
pression upon me which has not yet,
been effaced, and I have met but one
man whose voice has reminded me of
that of the generous unknown, lie
compelled me to go home with him
questioned me as to my motives for so
desperate an act, and, to my extreme
astonishment, handed me a portfolio
containing forty thousand florins on
the express condition that 1 should
take no steps to find him out. I en
treated him to accept my marriage
ring, at sight of which I promised to
repay the loan, as soon as it should be
possible for me to do so. He took the
ring, and I left him, m3' heart brimful
of gratitude.
“I will not attempt to describe to
you the j o3' with which I once more
embraced my wife and daughter. God
alone can repay the benefactor all the
good he did us. I arranged my affairs,
and we set out for Vienna, where I
formed this establishment, of which I
cannot consider as more than
temporary possessor. You perceive
gentlemen, that Ellen has no dowry to
expect, and that we may at any mo
ment be reduced to a very precarious
position.”
Ellen’s face was hidden her
hands. When Mr. Muller ceased
speaking, we still listened. Presently
the Jew broke silence.
“I have little,” he said, “to add to
your narration : the man who was so
fortunate as to render you a service,
remained a cripple for the rest of his
days. When lie plunged into the
Spree, he struck against a stone, and
since then he limps, as you perceive.”
We were .all motionless with sur
prise. Then Malthus drew a ring
from his finger and handed it to Mr.
Muller. The countenance of the lat
ter, generally so cold in its expres
sions, was suddenly extraordinarily
agitated ; tears started to his eyes, and
he threw himself into his preserver’s
arms,
“All that I possess belongs to yon,”
he cried, “and I have the happiness to
inform you that your capital has
doubled.”
“Os all that you possess,” replied
Malthus, “I ask but one thing, to which
I have no right.”
The worthy German took the hand
of his daughter, who trembled with
happiness and surprise, and, placing it
in that of the Jew—
“ Sir,” lie said, addressing himself to
rive, “ you wjio have seen the world,
and who are disinterested in this ques
tion, do you think that I could do bet
ter Blackwood's Magazine.
Swords of Gen. Worth.
All the swords that were voted the late Gon,
•Worth, by Congress, &c., are to.
be placed in tile New York "State Library for pub
lic inspection. Their value at the time of their
rospefivo presentation-is to bo ascertained and the
annual interest of such Bum,is to bo paid by the
State to the wido w or .other inembej’s of the fami
ly who survive that illustrious hntivb sou of New
~ -
Sensible Legislature.
Abolitk-brnm has been eflectually subdued lit tho
lowa Legislature, by the passage of ,u ix-soultion
through both Houses cordially approving the Oom
pypniise Act of 1850 atty lipal settlement of the
slavery question.-, .Tins resolution was ••adopted as
a Substitute tor ope of up auti-Kausas and Nebras
ka character. Well dyne lor low«.
Watching for a Tiger.
The spot I selected was at the edge
of the bankj where a tiger used to
drink. There a was a large tamarind
tree on its banks, and here t took my
post. A village shikaree accompanied
ine ; and soon after sunset, we took up
our position on a branch, about twelve
feet from tire ground. 1 should first
mention that we fastened an unfor
tunate bullock to the tree for a bait.
Well, we remained quietly on our
perch for a couple of hours, without
anything stirring. It might be eight
o’clock, the moon had just risen, and
so clear was the light, that we could
see the jackal Is at the distance of half
a mile, sneaking along towards the
village, when a party of Brinparries,
passing by, stopped to water their bul
locks at tiie bank. They loitered for
sometime; end, becoming impatient,
I got off the tree with a single rifle in
my hand and walked towards them,
telling them I was watching for a ti
ger, upon which they started off im
mediately. I was sauntering back to
my post, never dreaming of danger,
when the shikaree gave a low whistle,
and at the same moment a growl rose
from some bushes between me and the
tree. To make my situation quite
decided, I saw his (the shikaree’s)
black arm pointing nearly straight un
der him, on my side of his post. It
was evident that I could not regain
the tree, although I was within twen
ty paces of it. There was nothing for
me but to drop behind a bush, and
leave the rest to Providence. If I
had moved then; the tiger would have
had me to a certainty; besides, I
trusted to his killing the bullock, and
returned to the j ungle as soon as he
had finished his supper.
It was terrible to hear the moans of
the wretched bullock when the tiger
approached. He would run to the
end of his rope, making a desperate
effort to break it, and then lie down,
shaking in every limb, and bellowing
in the most piteous manner. The ti
ger saw him plain enough, but, sus
pecting something wrong, he walked
growling round the tree, as if he did
not observe him. At last he made his
fntal spring with a horrid shriek rath
er than a roar. I could hear the tor
tured bullock struggling under him,
uttering faint cries which became
more and more feeble every instant,
and then the heavy breathing, half
snort of the monster, as he hung to
his neck, sucking his life blood. I
know not what possessed me at this
moment, but I could not resist the
temptation of a.shot. I crept up soft
ly within ten yards of him, and kneel
ing behind a clump of dates, took a
deliberate aim at his head while he
lay with his nose hurried in the bul
lock’s throat. He started with an an
gry roar from the carcass when the ball
hit him. He stood listening for a mo
ment, then dropped in front of me, ut
tering a sullen growl. There was
nothing but a date bush between us ;
I had no weapon but my discharged
rifle. I felt for my pistols, they had
-been left on the tree. Then I knew
that nyy hour was come, and all the
sins of my life flashed with dreadful
distinctness across my mind. I mut
tered a short prayer, and tried to pre
pare myself for death, which seemed
inevitable. But what was my peon
about all this time ? he had the spare
•guns with him. Oh !as I afterwards
learned, he, poor fellow, was trying to
fire my double rifle : but all my locks
have bolts, which he did not under
stand, and he could not cock it. He
was a good shikaree, and knew that
was my only chance; so when he
could do no good, he did nothing. If
Mohodeen had been there, he would
soon have relieved me; but I had sent
him in another direction that day.
Well, some minutes passed thus.
The tiger made no attempt to come
at me; a ray of hope cheered me ; he
might be dying. I peeped through the
branches; but my heart Sunk within
me when his bright green eyes met
mine, and his hot breath absolutely
blew in my face. I slipped back upon
my knees in despair, and a growl
warned me that even that slight move
ment was noticed. But why did he
not attack me at once ? A tiger is a
suspicious, cowardly brute, and will
seldom charge, unless he sees his prey
distinctly. Now, I was quite conceal
ed by the date leaves; and while I
remained perfectly quiet, I still had a
chance.' Suspense was being intolera
ble. M}'- rifle lay useless at my side,
any attempt to load it would have been
instant death. knees were bruis
ed by the hard gravel, but I dared not
move a joint. The tormenting mus
quitoes swarmed around my face, but
I feared to raise my hand to brush
them off. When ever the wind ruf
fled the leaves that sheltered me, a
horse growl grated through the still
ness of the night. Hours that seemed
years rolled on; I could hear the vil
lage gong strike each hour of that
dreadful night, which I thought would
never end. At last the welcome
(lawn ! and oh, how gladly did I hail
the first streaks of light that shot up
from the horizon, for then the tiger
rose, and sulkily stalked away to some
distance. I felt that the danger was
past, and rose with a feeling oi relief
which I cannot describe. Such a night
of suffering was enough to turn my
brain, and I only wondered that I sur
vived it. I now sent off the peon for
the elephant, and before eight o’clock
old Goliath had arrived. It was all
over in five minutes. The tiger rush
ed to meet me as soon as I entered the
cover, and one ball in the chest drop
ped him down dead.
Death of an old Soldier.
David Traux, sen., died at the resi
dence of his daughter, in Preble coun
ty, Ohio, on the 11th ult,, at the,advanc
ed age of 100 years, less,eightdays._ The
deceased was born Feb. 19th, 1755, in
Morns county, N. J. At the age oi
14 years, his parents -removed to Lou
dbn county', Va., where he continued
to reside till the close of the war oi the
Revolution, and in which he sreved
■ liis oppressed country in the “ tented
fields and battle's storm. ”
Terrible Retribution.
A STORY OF A FAITHFUL DOG.
About fifty years ago, in. the western
part of the State, of New York, lived
a lonely widow, named Mbzh'cr. Her
husband had been dead many years- ;
her only daughter was grown up and
married, living at the distance of a
mile or two from the family mansion.
And thus the old lady lived alone
in her house by day and night. Yet,
in conscious innocence and trust in Pro
vidence, she felt safe and cheerful, and
at eventide lay down and slept sweet-
One morning, however, she awoke
with an extraordinary and unwonted
gloom upon her mind, which was im
pressed with the apprehension that
something strange was about to hap
pen to her or hers. So full was she of
that thought that she could not stay at
home that day, but must go abroad to
give vent to it bv unbosoming herself
to her friends, especially to her daugh
ter. With her she spent the greater
part of the day ; and to her she sever
al times repeated the recital of her ap
prehensions. The daughter as often
repeated her assurance that the moth
er had never done injury to any per
son, and added, I cannot think any
one would hurt } r ou, for you have not
an enemy in the world.
As the day was declining, Mrs.
Mother sought her home, but express
ed the same feeling as she left her
daughter’s house'.
On the way home she called on a
neighbor, who lived in the last house
before her own. Here she again made
known her continued apprehensions,
which had nearly ripened into fear,
and from the lady of the mansion she
received answers similar to those of
her daughter. You have harmed no
one in your whole lifetime, surely no
one will disturb or molest you. Go
home in quiet, and Hover shall go
with you. Here, Rover, said she to a
stout watch dog that lay on the floor ;
here, Hover, go home with Mrs Moz
her, and take care of her.
Rover did’as he was told ; the wid
ow went home, milked her cows, took
care of everything out of doors, and
went to bed as usual. Hover never
left her for an instant. When she was
fairly in bed he laid himself upon the
outside of the bed ; and as the widow
relied on his fidelity, and perhaps chid
herself for needless fear, she fell asleep.
Sometime in the night she awoke, be
ing startled, probably, by a slight
noise outside the house. It was so
slight, however, that she was not
aware of being startled at all, but
heard, as soon as she awoke, a sound
like the raising of a window near her
bed, which was in a room on the
ground floor. The dog neither mov
ed nor barked. Next, there was anoth-
er sound, as if there was some one in
the room and stepped cautiously on
the floor. The woman saw nothing ;
but npw for the first time, felt the dog
move, as he made a violent spring from
the bed; and at the same instant some
thing fell upon the floor, sounding like
a heavy log. Then followed other nois
es, life the pawing of the dog’s feet, but
soon all was still, and the dog resumed
his place on the bed, without having
barked or growled at all.
This time the widow did not go to
sleep immediately, but lay awake, won
dering, yet not deeming it best to get
up. But at last she fell asleep, and
when she awoke, the sun was shining.
She hastily stepped out of bed, and
there lay the body of a man extended
on the floor, with a large knife in his
hand, which was now extended. The
dog had seized him by the throat with
the grasp of death ; and neither man or
dog could utter a sound till all was
over. The man was the widow’s
son-in-law, the husband of her only
daughter. He coveted her little store
of weal tli, her house, her cattle and
her land. And instigated by this sor
did impatience, lie could not wait for the
decay of nature .to give her property to
him and his as the only heirs apparent,
but made his stealthy visit to do a deed
of darkness in the gloom of tlm night.
A fearful retribution awaited for him.
The widow’s apprehensions communi
cated to her mind and impressed up
on her nerves by what unseen power
we know not; the. sympathy of the
other woman who loaned the dog, and
the silent but certain watch of the dog
himself, formed a chain of events which
brought the murderer’s blood upon his
own head, and which are difficult to
be explained, without reference to that
Providence or overruling power which
numbers the hairs upon our heads
watches the sparrows fall, and i( shapes
our ends, rough-hew them as we will.”
This is one of Uncle Toby’s stories;
and is derived to us, as to -all its facts,
from a most respectable Quaker fami
ly, whose veracity we cannot doubt.
Wliat lie Died of.
We overheard once ; the following
dialougebetween an Alderman and an
Irish shop lifter:
“ What’s gone of your husband wo
man ? ”
“ What’s gone with him yer honor ?”
—“ Faith, and lie’s gone dead.”
“ Ah! pray wliat did he die of?”
“ Died of, yer honor? He died of a
Friday.”
“ I don’t mean what day of the week,
but wliat complaint! ”
“ O, wliat complaint, yer honor ?
Faith and its himself that did not get
time to complain. ”
“ 0, lie died suddenly ?”
“Rather that way, yer honor.”
“Did lie fall in a fit ?”
No answer.
“ He fell in a fit, perhaps?”
“ A fit, yer honor ? Why, no, not
exactly that. He fell out of a window,
orth rough a cellar door-I don’t' know
what .they cull it.” %"V
, “ And broke his nqck. ”
“ No, not quite that, yer worship. ”
“What then?”
There was a bit of string or cord,
og something like that, and it throttled
FROM THE LON DON TIMES, FEB. i4.
Decline of the Aristocracy*
From different circumstances it came
to pass that at no period since the Re
form Bill had the aristocratic families
obtained so firm a hold in office, place,
and patronage as in the commencement
of the year 1854. They had conduct
ed oiir business for many years with
out any extraordinary miscarriage or
misfortune, and we were content to
leave them the field of politics as their
peculiar vocation and monopoly. But
war has always been noted as an un
sparing innovator, the destroyer of
conventional respectabilities, and the
overthrower of all manner of snug,
and comfortable cliques and coteries.
The experience of the last few months
has awakened the people of England
from their dreams of wealth and pros
perity —from their traditional self-grat
ulations over the naval and military
Exploits of the late war, and from the
supposition that men invested with
high rank and clothed with great of
fice are possessed of faculties equal to
the direction of our affairs whenever
there is more than ordinary on the
vessel of States Our eyes are open,
and we behold that we are naked.
We ask for talent sufficient to conduct
great affairs to successful conclusions,
and in stead of talent we arc offered
titles and pedigrees. We ask for mer
it, and we are offered in exchange
high connections, or, at best, seniority.
The cold shade of aristocracy is over
us all, and nothing can grow beneath
it except the offshoots of the tree itself'.
Up to the middle of November this
country believed itself to have armies,
generals, statesmen, departments, all
equal to their several duties, all of the
very best the world could afford; and
now, in the middle of Eebruary, m
three short months, all is changed, or
rather all is reversed, We have awoke
from our dream of hope, prosperity
and success, to disaster and dismuy.
Our Generals have turned out worse
than useless ; our Ministers something
more than incapable; every public
department has been crushed into hope
less imbecility by the weight of um
bending, routine and worthless formal
ities, and on no one occasion, that we
are aware of, lias the right man
been selected to fill the right place.
Everything has been mismanaged to
a degree which, if predicted, would
have been deemed incredible ; yet, so
far as the public are aware, no single
official has yet been recalled, and, after
a week’s interregnum, Government has
been reconstituted and strengthened
only by the omission of three of its
leading members, and the promotion
of one who is at least as guilty as any
of those omitted.
The people of England have remain
ed quiet under all these things. They
have felt—as how should they not
feel ?—the mortality which has brought
mourning to every heart. They have
noted—as how should they not note ?
the incredible and inexplicable confu
sion and Stupidity which have presided
over every department, giving reality
to absurdities such as the most extrav
agant imagination could never have
painted, and occasioning miseries such
as the gloomiest prophet could never
have foreboded. Why the people
have been so long silent has been to
most reflecting men a matter of won
der and astonishment. They feel most
acutely, but they have remained hith
erto passive spectators of the method
in which their best hopes and dearest
interests have been squandered and
betrayed. Perhaps they have cher
ished a hope that at the meeting of
Parliament all thing's would be well.
-Perhaps they have been content to
read their sentiments faithfully reflected
in the columns of the press. What
ever be the cause of their silence, the
cause exists no longer, and we have to
look for an expression of opinion from
one end of the country to the other
which will convey to our governing
classes a most clear and intelligible
warning that the patience of>the na
tion is exhausted, and that the necessi
ty of widening the area from which
our Executive is to be taken is great
and paramount. The enthusiastic meet
ing at the town of Derby has led the
way, and the remaining towns of Eng
land will not be slow to follow. The
cry is for practical statesmanship, for
opening a free career to talent, for plac
ing our resources in hands equal to
the emergency. The Derby petition
ers hold no extravagant or exaggerat
ed language; they declare their con
fidence in the justice of the war; they
express their humiliation and regret
at the disasters which have occurred ;
they pray for a searching inquiry in
to their causes, and suggest remedies
adequate to the emergency which we
have to meet. While Ministers are
debating how to fill up the most impor
tant offices with, the least competent
persons, and considering the claims of
rank, of family, and of connection—
of everything except merit and ca
pacity—while the friends of “ rising
young statesmen ” of the true breed
are indefatigably soliciting their ad
vancement from office to office, the
people of England, who are for none
of these things, are gravely taking the
matter into their serious consideration,
and coming to conclusions but little
favorable to the stability of the pres
ent governing classes. We have been
ready to.allow place arid patronage to
be monopolized by a few great families.
We have been content to liye in our
own country strangers to our own gov
ernment, excluded from the workings
of pur own institutions; but it was
onlv on condition that our national
pride should be respected, and our in
terests and position in the great fami
ly of nations remain inviolate. This
our aristocracy have failed, to secure
to us, and therefore the people of Eng
land will, wc hope* demand, 'in no
spirit of wild and theoretical leveling,
in no spirit of hatred or animosity to
any portion of the community, tiut in
thy spirit of practical reform of an
urgent and intolerable grievance, that
the system which excludes pjebian
talent from high office shall henceforth
be discontinued, and that in the army,
at the desk, and in the council,- those .
mpn shall be called to the public ser
vice who are best able to sefVe the
We wish all success to this
movement. It has been our painful
lot to witness more nearly than others
and to obtain more ample information
as to the manner in which this war
has been conducted, and we do nob
hesitate to express the opinion that
without an entire change of system a
substitution of youth and energv for
age and decrepitude— unless some plan
can be hit upon by which merit shall
be the only criterion in the filling up
of civil and military offices— without
in fact, a complete abandonment of the
claims of wealth, of family, and of
interest, in favor of that Higher no
bility which the hand of God has im
pressed on the forehead of every man
of talent, it is vain for us to continue
the present contest, and better to ac
cept any conditions, however degard
ing and however humilitting, since no
degradation and no humiliation suffer*
ed at the hands of the enemy can ex*
ceed those which our servility and
meanness have inflicted, and are about
to inflict upon ourselves.
Mobile in Mourning.
The ordiance closing grogshops and
business houses of Mobile, like similar
enactments elsewhere, does not please
everybody. It went into operation
Sunday before last. Speaking of
which day the Mobile correspondent of
the Picayune says :
It was the first Sabbath to be opera
ted on by the new fangled extract of
the blue laws, which our suicidal au
thorities have grafted on our city code
to kill themselves with. At least to
some it must prove fatal. By the
dawn of day a crape weeper was found
on the closed dooqof every bar-room in
the city’', and thousands of merry jokes
were cracked on the defunct, the dis
ease and the doctors.
An up countryman, seeing the weed
where he had but lately taken a wet,
inquire), “Who is dead ?” “Old
Nick, ” said the towney. “ And who
was Nick?” “ Why the man who kept
this place. ” “ Indeed !do folks die
now so quick as all that? poor fellow !
I took a drink with him quite after
midnight and now he’s gone. I
thought the epidemic was over!
In another case, one of our boys, who
had been in Texas for a few weeks, re
turned thence yesterday morning,
bringing a party of choice spirits on
their first visit to Mobile, which he
had painted in all the bright colors of
home. You will be so delighted with
the hospitable fellows ; but lei us try
some bitters at the Hole in the Wall,
a small place, but possessed of the right
kind of stuff. Here it is. What! a
weed ? then poor Jim is gone. I am
sorry for that—he was hearty when I
left, but let us go to Jeames.’ Why
bless me! there is a death here too, or
else the parties are related, which I
never heard of. ”
George Law and the Presidency.
Yes, reader, George Law and the
Presidency! Such is the subject upon
which etuch editorial labor is just now
being expended. Even grave legisla
tors and high public functionaries are
cussing the claims of the great con
tractor. He has received formal addres
ses from a large number of the mem
bers of the Pennsylvania and New Jer
sey Legislatures, and his opinions up
on the present condition of the coun
try are asked for with all imaginable
gravity. So far has the canvass been
carried, that Mr. Law has written a
long letter, defining his position, and
pointing out the evils of the times, and
the utter worthlessness ©f existing par
ty organizations. He thinks the Whig
and Democrat parties have served their
day—that they are impotent for good
—that they are effete and corrupt and
decrepid —and that the country and
the times require new organizations
with fresh life and strong impulses, with
young blood and athletic limbs. In.
other words, lie would sweep away
the political cobwebs which the old or
ganizations have hung upon the arms oi
the young Republic, and to do this, be
would rely upon the American party
which isnow springing into existence.
The whole letter sounds very much
as if it had been written in the office of
the New York Herald.
Re this as it may, the folly of the ef
fort to foist suctqa man as George Law
upon the country as a candidate for the
office once filled by Washington, is
equalled only by his impudence. Things
have arrived at pretty pass when men
like Law and Houston are seriously
spoken of in connection with the high*
est office in the gift of the nation.
[Atu\ Republican
Anecdote of Waskinton.
When Stuart was painting Wash
ington’s portrait, lie was railed one day
by the General for his slow work. The
painter protest**! that the picture could
not advance until the canvas was dry,
and that there must be some delay.— 4
Upon arriving the next morning, Stu
art,turned.his canvas and discovered
to his great horror, the picture was
spoiled.
“General, ” said lie, “ somobody has
held the picture to the fire. ”
Washington summoned his negro
valet Sam, and demanded of him, in
great indignation, who had dared to
touch the portrait. The trembling
Sain replied, that chancing to overhear
W ashington’s expression of impatience
at the slowness of the artist that it
must be dry before it could go on, he
had ventured to put the canvas before
Site fire. Washington, with great an
ger, dismissed him, and told him not to
show -liis face again.
But the next day, after Stuart had
arrived and was preparing to work,
VY Washington rang the bell and sent for
Sapi. , lie caine in abashed and tremb
ling. The President drew anew silver
watch from his pocket, and said:
Come here, Sam. Take this
watch, and whenever you look at it,
remember that your master, in a mo
ment ofpassion, said to you what he now
regrets, and that he was not ashamed to
~ confess that lie had done so, ”