Sunday dispatch. [volume], July 12, 1846, Image 1

About Sunday dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1845-1854

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Sunbiw
VOL. I. NO. 32.
THE SUNDAY DISPATCH,
IS PUBLISHED EVERY SUNDAY MORNING,
At 41 Ann Street,
BY WILLIAMSON & BURNS,
AT THREE CENTS PER WEEK TO CITY SUBSCRIBERS,
Or One Dollar a Year in Advance by Mail.
ADVERTISEMENTS
Will be inserted at the rate of One Dollar per Squart
(of sixteen lines) the first insertion, and Fifty Cents fo>
every subsequent insertion. Advertisements for a lon
ger period at the same rate.
A. J. WILLIAMSON, ) n ... .
WILLIAM BURNS, j Pulhshers.
[Written for the Sunday Dispatch.]
CHARADE, No. 1
My first’s in name, if not in sense,
The primal source of hate and lust,
Yet yields in sweetening recompense
The love that soften’s hardship’s crust ;
My second is by Huntsman used,
To note the action of the chase,
And he who has o’er ruin mused,
Has owned it cause of his disgrace.
A victim of a bull’s assault,
May strive to shun “a toss” in vain,
My second that has made him vault
Doth need my whole to ease his pain.
’Tis seen by mortals in the Moon
When shining in a certain state,
’Tis said ’twill sometimes make a spoon,
At others mar the marriage fate,
The fairest beauty on whose cheek
The rosy line of health may fade,
Will for her drooping spirits seek
A balm and solace from its aid,
’Tis with her at the 11 fete” or ball,
Where throbs the heart whose pulse is
And yet its essence dwells withal, (swelling
Where vilest stench has fixedits dwelling.
CHARADE No. 2.
When the canvass is spread, and the ship has set
sail,
The sport of the wave or the scorn of the gale,
My first shields the rope from the keen-biting
blast,
Or strikes for the flag that is nail’d to the mast.
My second’s a verb in imperative mood,
It heeds not the perils of field or of flood,
To do and to dare, is the creed it imparts,
The texX-book of life, —the triumph of arts.
My whole is an object of strife and renown,
It yields to the victor the laurel and crown,
Tho’ wearing two faces, I cannot tell why,
Like Codes of old, it has but one eye.
[Written for the Sunday Dispatch.]
poling Ipljpsic.
NO. XVI.
HeniCEopathy—Confessions and Admissions of
its Advocates at ll>me. Its exposures abroad.
The needle and thread gentlemen with their
pocket books of little vials and globules are great
ly surprised at finding themselves deserted by the
great Apollos who had taught them that these
slender appliances were the Ultima Thule, the
very perfection of medical wisdom, instead of
being, as Dr. Cox has shown, the means of piling
up the shelves of our City Inspector’s office with
certificates of deatiis ! Splendid achievements
of science ! Who would not be a Homoeopath ?
But listen to Dr Gray at the Confessional:—
“ Homoeopathy demands the application of lar
ger means than HomtEopathists employ ; the art
is not allowed to come up to the demands of the
science, for we confine ourselves not merely to
■what we call the pure pathogenesis, but to that
side which comes from the very minute doses of
of drugs with the healthy, when we should, as I
believe sometimes, give doses which correspond
to that side of the pathogenesis which'springsfrom
the massive doses given to the healthy .” That is we
have been mistaken and the number of deaths
proves it. Again: “it is by no means a neces
sary condition of an llomcEOpathic cure that the
doses be of the potentised (infinitesimal) form-
Nay, that the potentised form is in some cases
inevitably non-/iom<?opTMic.”. It is indispensa
bly necessary to enlarge the boundaries of our art
[homiEopathy] by an enlightened reading and
study of the practice of the old school!” Advance
backwards, says the Irishman. Bock again Isays
Sawney. Hear Dr. Gray again ;it is not only
justifiable, but an imperative duty, so long as the
present imperfect slate of our art exist 3, that we
apply remedial agents occasionally which are not
yet reduced to scientific order ; that is to say we
are some times forced to apply drugs, from their
known good effects in pretty well defined groups
of symptoms, with the physiological or pure pa
thogenetic powers of which weave unacquainted.
This practice in our school is a return to the long
extinct mode of the “ empirical sect.” Among
these means are cowhage for worms, mesmeric
passes, external and internal application of heat
and moisture [water cure] and blood letting!
which last he had used for many years on purely
empirical grounds. What are empirical grounds?
let us consult Walker:
“ Empirick.—A trier, or experimenter, such
persons as venture upon observation only ; a
quack !
“ Empirical.—Versed in experiments, practi
sed only by rote.
“ Empirically.—experimentally, without ra
tional grounds; in the manner of a quack!”
Guided by the revelations of the City Inspec
tor’s Office, that this pseudo-system is as des
tructive in practice as it is unsound and false in
philosophy, the reader will have no difficulty
in perceiving that its great advocate has selected
the most proper phrase by which to characterise
it.
But we have not done with the “Homoeopa
thic Examiner.” In Vol IV, No. 3, p. 153, is to
be found this most extraordinary passage : “Ho
mcepathy appears to be merging rapidly into
blind headlong Allopathy, and is destined from
present appearances, to be a scourge - , rather than
a blessing to the human family. Whether the
doctrine of Hahaeman be true or false, it is cer
tain that he has scarcely a devoted follower in
the United States ; or even in Europe, if we are
to judge from the foreign medical journals.”—
The paper of Dr. A. L. Cox, has very plainly
shown that the “ present appearances ” referred
to had a very probable reference to the shower
of certificates of deaths into the City Inspector’s
Office. A scourge, indeed ’ But who would
expect to find the miscreants confessing their
iniquity ?
We give below, from Dr. E . Lee’s production,
further extracts showing the wise and judicious
measures resorted to in various parts of Europe
to expose this most wretched of all impositions
upon the confidence and unhappy credulity of
mankind. Let the exposures be pondered.
In the treatment of cases, the precaution has
been taken by the homoeopathists of regulating
with extreme care the diet of their patients. Ab
stinence from everything of a stimulating nature,
as condiments, coflee, &c , is recommended;
even the smelling of delicate perfume is prohibi
ted, although the smoking of tobacco is allowed ;
which considering Germany is the country from
whence homoeopathy originated, was an extreme
ly politic measute.
The absurdity of a doctrine equally opposed to
reason and every day expeiience could not fail
to be immediately apparent to the, medical pro
fession, as well as the injurious effects that might
arise from its professors being allowed to prac
tice on the credulity of the public, a large propor
tion of whom is always to be atirac ed by novel
ty, especially if it be clothed ni the garb of unin
teliigibility and mysteiy. Inorder, therefore, to
show the value of the pretentions of homoeopathy,
the experiment was made in Germany, Russia,
France, and Italy, of treating a certain number
of patients in public institutions by homoeopathic
means, and an equal number by the usual me
thods ; the results are such as might have been
anticipated.
A German hornoEopathist, practising in Russia,
was invested by the Grand Duke Michael with
* u r ll P owe rs to prove, if possible, by a comparison
ot tacts, the advantages of homoeopathic mea
sures over the ordinary modes of treatment; and
a certain number of patients in the wards of a
military hospital weie entrusted to his care. At
the expiration of two months, however, he was
not permitted th proceed’ further ; for in compa
ring results, it was seen that within this period,
out ol four hundred and fifty-seven patients treated
by the ordinary means, three hundred and sixty
tour, or three-fourths, were cured, and none died ;
whereas, by the homoeopathic method* lri< d on
one hundred and twenty-eight patients, one-half
only were cured, and five-had died.
In order to ascertain and give publicity to the
results, the Russian government caused a certain
number ot patients to be treated hornoeopathieally
in one hospital, while in another an equal num
ber of patients were merely subjected to regulated
diet and appropriate regimen, without die exhi
bition of any medicine. The results were very
similar in both instances, and the medical coun-
cil appointed to superintend the experiments thus
givt-s its official opinion :
“ The medical council, after having attentively
weighed the results of the experiments made ac
cording to the homoeopathic method, and coma
red’them with those made according to the prin
ciples of the medicine expectante, finds that they
greatly resemble the latter, and are probably
based only on the vis medicatrix naturce ; for the
infinitely minute doses can produce no effect on
the human body. The medical council is there
fore of opinion, that the homcepathic practice
> should be prohibited in sanatory establishments
f dependent on government, for the following rea
sons :
1. Acute diseases require energetic means of
treatment, which are not to be expected from ho
moeopathy.
2. The homeopathic treatment of external
lesions and surgical diseases is altogether out
of the question.
3. Some slight affections get well while under
homoeopathic treatment, but similar affections
disappear equally well, without any medical
treatment, by the adoption of an appropriate re
gimen, good air and cleanliness.”
The homaeopathist who introduced the practice
at Naples, was, as stated by Dr. Wolf, “an igno
rant Bohemian baiber, who enjoyed the patron
age of the Austrian general, to whom he was
particularly recommended by Hahnemann. The
public as well as some talented young physicians
who adopted homoeopathy, awoke from their il
lusive credulity, but not until the general, with
many other persons of distinguished rank, had
died ot were injured by the all curing art.
At the time homoeopathy was in vogue at Na
ples, a commission was appointed, by royal or
der, to superintend the treatment of a certain
number of patients during forty days; the patients
were then selected by the physicians, and a sepa
rate ward in the hospital was appropriated to
them.
It was first determined by the commission to
ascertain whether some of the patients would not
get well without the employment of any remedy;
ten were consequently set apart, and ail recover
ed. One of them had a gastric fever ; the ho
moeopathic physician wished to give him a drop
of the tincture of St. Ignatius’s bean, at the 12th
dilution, representing a quadrillionth part of the
original drop. He protested against waiting,
saying, that the delay might compromise the life
ot the patient. The physicians reassured him;
they reckoned upon a crisis occurring, which ac
cordingly did take place tn the night, and the pa
tient was well in two days. Had the homoeopa
thic dose been taken, the cure would most assu
redly have been attributed to it.
Several slight affections were treated homceo
pathically and recovered,without the commission
being able to ascribe any of the recoveries to ho
moeopathy, asjthey would in all probabilityjhave
recovered as soon by simple attention to diet. A
third set ot cases of a more serious nature, and
requiring the assistance of medicine, were also
treated by the homeopathic method, which was
found altc geiher powerless, none of them obtain
ing any advantage ; the cases were longer under
treatment than usual, and several of the patients
became worse, requiring the employment of or
diriary measures tor their cure.
In aTourth series of experiments of homoeo
pathic remedies on heahhy persons, no effects 1
resulted from their administration From these ;
j-c's, the commissioners deduced the following ;
inferences; Ist, That the hotnoeopithic treat
ment | r >duced no effect ; and 2ndly, that it had
the serious inconvenience, in several of the pa
tients, of pr< venting the employment of remedies t
by which they might be cured.
On account of the statement of a Dr. Luz, a
veterinary surgeon at Leipsic, that.he had perfor
med several surprising cures by the homcepathic I
method on horses and dogs, trials were instituted (
on these animals in the veterinary school and
hospital at Berlin, The experiments were con- 1
ducted with the utmost exactitude, and in the 1
presence of many students and homoeopathists ; ;
and though the cases were similar to those by
Dr. Luz, not one was cured, not one confirmed 1
his statements even in tho slightest degree. ’
[Written for the Sunday Dispatch.]
3ln
Of Life in New York.
Missing—A young man, a resident of Albany, ’
left his friends a few days since on a visit to !
New York, and has not been heard of since. He
is about 21 years of age, about five feet eleven ,
inches in height, inclined to be stout, light com- (
plexion. Whoever can give any information of
the same at No. 71 N street, Brooklyn, will
be suitably rewarded. j 18 3l*
The above is a copy of an advertisement as
published a short lime since in one of the city ;
papers, and from the singularity of the idea of a
young man who had reached an age so mature as
that of twenty-four being so unfortunate as to be
out without his maternal projemtor being aware
of the fact, I was induced to make some inquiry
and if possible solve the mystery attached to it,
I succeeded completely in this, and for the pur
pose of warning, through your widely circulated ;
journal, young gentlemen from the interior unused
to the wiles and ways of our Great Babylon, of
the dangers and snares that betet them at every
hand, I have been induced to send you this story
for publication. Yours, Sinead.
P. S. As the story has no little of romance at
tached to it, I have sought to “do it up” in the
most approved style laid down for “ A Romantic
Tale.”
<c Oh! thus ’tis ever, in this world of wo !
Life’s stream runs smoothest—most uncheck’d
When its bright waters onward flow
Toward misfortunes cataract.” <
It was a bright and beautiful day in June, and '
there might have been observed wandering
through the busy and the bustling streets of the
great city—now daintily picking his way through
the mud (alas, ever characteristic of the street of
New York,) and anon somewhat rudely jostling <
the throng of passers-by, an unsophisticated, ]
rustic looking youth. His every action and <
movement, betrayed him to be a novice in, and
dazzled and astounded by the scenes which were (
presented to his startled vision, and were conti- (
nually being enacted around him. On he strayed ,
or straggled rather, with neck out-stretched and .
gaping mouth, his but two apparent verdancy af- ,
fording much amusement to the idlers about the j
hotels, and all others who observed him. Judg- (
ing from his ardent gaze, and the frequent ejacu- |
lations of wonder and surprise that escaped from «
his lips, as he pursued his devious and tortuous (
course, it was the beauty, the grace, and the ele- j
gant costume of the dashing belles who thronged :
the trottoir, that most attracted the stranger’s ob t
servation It was the homage of nature to art, j
and this at least was evidence that hi 1 possessed
taste, and so farthat under proper tuition, some- (
thing might be made of him. t
Onward he strolled, with, feelings very much |
like those which the followers of Mahomet pro- s
mise to themselves the enjoyment of, among the -
bright and glowing Peris and Houris of the s
Paradise of the Faithful. Like the traveller in s
the “Illuminated City” it seemed to him that as t
he I
“Passed through the streets, there were |
throngs on throngs— # .
Like sounds of the deep, were their mingled
songs, . 1
There was music forth from each palace borne — i
A peal of the cymbal, the gong and the horn.”*
His journeyings at last brought him to the Ful- i
ton Ferry boat, and hurrying on board with the
throng, he soon found himself on the other sides, i
and here began the stranger’s mischances. He i
met, on leaving the boat, a lady friend and .with 1
her another, and she so fair, so beautiful—but <
the effect of her appearance on his mind and his <
senses can best be understood from the following j
lines which were afterwarfis found among his ,
papers. In fact, had he been dreaming before,
he must have then imagined himself awakened
to a full realization of his brightest imaginations, i
The lines alluded to (and by the way, it is more
than suspected that they were taken from one of (
Lover’s beautiful songs,) are as follows:
“Oh! she is a bright-eyed thing!
And her glances wildly playing,
While they radiance round her fling,
Set my loving fancy straying,
Where to find a thing so bright
’Tis not in the diamonb’s light; <
The jewels of the richest mine,
Half so brightly may not shine,
For gems are cold and cannot vie
With living light from Beauty’s eye.” <
To shorten, or rather to sum up our story, suf- 1
fice it to say, that he returned to New York with i
the ladies, and that he escorted them in their i
promenade through dashing, lively, flaunting <
Broadway and on the Battery. And yet, so en- i
chanted was he with the beautiful vision at his i
side, ihat he was able to observe nothing else— i
not even the belles who brushed by him and had
before filled his entire gaze—not even the beauti- ;
fid scene presented by the Bay itself, with its
dancing sparkling waters, kissing and sporting
as it were with the many elegant craft that re
posed on its bosom, or were gently wafted by
the summer breeze across its broad expanse.
Time waits for no man—not even for a lover,
with whom indeed the old gentleman seems to i
increase his rate of travel, and the dull, heavy :
stroke of the bell, on the top of the City Hall <
warned’the youth that more material matters de
manded his attention. So with an effort, alone 1
worthy of the occasion, he aroused himself from ■
» his enchantment, and with broken utterance and
r tearful eyes, bidding his beautiful charmer adieu,
he madly rushed down Courtlandt street to the
■ North River steamboat. But oh, —catastro-
phe most dire!—the steamer punctual as old
, Time himself had left—had gone—in short our
• friend was left behind !
1 Nothing has since been heard of him and his
friends and relatives are sorely afflicted thereat
i —and hence the advertisement. Conjecture on
ly can account for his disappearance. It is sup
posed that he has fallen in love—but alas, if this
is so he.is lost forever—for so far as the young
lady is concerned, he might better have, fallen
into the river, or in the “ deep bosom of the
ocean been buried.” For so obdurate is she
said to be, in “ affairs of the heart,” that a whole
hetacomb ot these articles, broken in her devo
tion, might be erected to her memory.
Such is the story, and from it let the young and
inexperienced stranger take warning.
American Atlantic
MAIL STEAMERS.
Commerce, to enjoy permanent prosperity
ought to yield mutual benefits. By the rapid and
direct communication which we are about to es
tablish with Bremen, the steamers stopping at
Cowes, we shall not only extend our commerce
more widely through Germany, but we shall in
vite a more frequent and active intercourse with
the north of Europe generally. As their means
of intercommunication multiply, some of them
stretching from the North Sea to the Adriatic,
and traversing Prussia and Austria, while others
.penetrate Russia, it is to be expected that the
people of those extensive regions will seek a con
nection with us through our line of steamships,
touching regularly at one of their northern ports.
Independent of the advantage which our com
mercegenerally would derive from this extension
our cotton would find new markets. The de
pression which is so often experienced in the
sale of that great staple, can only be remedied by
increasing the demand for it,and by creating new
markets which may compete with those already
established, and which somfetimes combine to
control prices.
Germany, already regarding us kindly, carry
ing on with us a valuable and growing trade,
sending to our shores every year large bodies of
industrious emigrants, who become useful citi
zens, will recognize «n this new enterprise, an
earnest effort, on our part to make the means of
communication between us. more xtireci, cenain
and frequent; ami, respondingto it in a national
spirit, will co-operate with us to make it success
ful.
Correspondence multiplies with the increase
ol facilities. A letter weighing not more than
half an ounce, mailed at Boston, and sent by a
British steamer to Bremen, is charged about for
ty three cents upon its delivery. The postage
charged upon a newspaper of the ordinary size,
sent by the same conveyance, amounts to sixty
one cents. These heavy charges if they do not
restrict the advantage of the speedy communica
tion afforded by the steamers almost exclusively
to Great Britain, greatly embarrass our corres
pondence with the continent of Europe. Impres.
sions of our country are received from England;
the;Britisb,transmitting intelligence receiv’d from
our shores by British steamers, sends out with it
comments upon our affairs which must influence
public sentiment. But through our own line of
steamers, a direct and cheaper correspondence
with the people of continental Europe may be
carried on while its amount will greatly in
crease with reduced rates of postage.
In loolting over the niujj vf Euiupc, it will De
seen that Bremen is most favorably situated as
a point of departure for a steamer bearing intelli
gence from different parts of the world to the
United Slates.
It would, at its departure, receive intelligence
from St. Petersburg!!, the capital of Russia
brought to Bremen within sixty eight hours;
from Vienna within thirty six hours, and from
Berlin within fourteen hours ; besides the mails
from the smaller neighboring kingdoms and
states. Touching at Cowes, it would take on
board the French mail,with dates from Paris but
sixteen hours old. and the English mail forward
ed from London on the same day, and within
three hours of its departure for the United States.
With this accumulated and varied intelligenc,
the American steamship would reach New York
with as little delay as if it had sailed from Liver
pool, the point of departure for the Cunard line
of steamers—a city of vast commercial impor
tance, but remote from the great points of inte
rest incontinental Europe, and separated from
London by more than twice the distance which
divides Cowes from that emporium.— Freeman
Hunt.
®l)£atrcs in (DID Cimcs.
The first playhouse built in England was erect
ed in Blackfriars, in the year 1569 or 1570 [Hal
lam says 1576,] about twenty years before Shak
spere commenced writing for the stage. Pre
viously to this establishment of the “ regular
drama,” there had been three different species
of theatrical representations—miracles or mys
teries, written by priests on religious subjects,
and performed by them on holydays, in which,
as Campbell phrases it, “ Adam and Eve ap
peared naked, the devil displayed his horns and
tail, and Noah’s wife boxed the patriarch’s ears
before entering the arkmoralities, which
sprang from the mysteries, and approached near
er to regular plays, their characters being com
posed of allegorical personifications of virtues
and vices ; and free translations fiom the classics,
performed at the inns of court, the public semi
naries, and the universities.
In 1574 the queen licensed a company of actors,
called the Earl of Leicester’s Servants, to play
throughout England, “ for the recreation of her
loving subjects, as for her own solace and plea
sure when she should think good to see them.”
Theatres rapidly increased. In 1606, there were
seven in London; in 1629, we believe there were
seventeen. They were opposed, in an early
stage of their career, by the Puritans and the
graver counsellors ol the sovereign In 1553, at
the time that Sir Philip Sidney published his De
fence of Poesy, he could find little in their per
formances to approve. Though forbidden, after
the year 1574, to be open on the Sabbath, the
prohibition does not appear to have been effec
tive during the reign of Elizabeth. Secretarj’
Walsinghatn laments over the whole matter in
this wise: “The daily abuse ot stage plays
is such an offence to the godly, and so great a
hindtance to the gospel, as the Papists do ex
ceedingly rejoice at the blemish thereof; for
every day in the week, the players’ bills are set
up in sundry places in the city—some in the
name of her Majesty’s men, some of the Earl of
Leicester’s, some the Earl of Oxford’s, the Lord
Admiral’s, and divers others, so that, when the
bell tolls to the lecture, the trumpet sounds to the
stage. The playhouses are filled, when the
churches are naked. It is a woful sight to see
two hundred proud players jet in their silks,
when five hundred poor people starve in the
streets.”
Asthe taste for theatrical exhibitions increased,
the task of providing the theatres with plays be
came a profession. Most of the precursors, con?
temporaries, and successors of Shakspere were
young men of education, who came down to the
city from the universities, to provide themselves
with a living by whatever cunning there was in
their brain and ten fingers. Some became actors
as well as writers. The remuneration of the
dramatist was small. Poverty and dissoluteness
seem to have characterized the pioneers of the
drama. As the theatre was popular as well as
fashionable, the “ groundlings,” who paid their
sixpences for admission, had their tastes con
suited. This accounts, in some degree, for the
rant and vulgarity which strangely disfigure so
many of the plays. The usual miseries and
vices which characterize men of letters in an un
lettered age, when authors are numerous and
readers are few, distinguish the lives of many of
the elder dramatists. Ben Jonson, tn the Poetas
ter, makes Tucca, exclaim, with a side reference
to the poets of his own day, that “ they are a sort
of poor, starved rascals, that are ever wrapt up
in foul linen; and can boast of nothing but a
lean visage peering out of a seam-rent suit, the
very emblem of beggary.” We suppose this was
NEW YORK, SUNDAY MORNING, JULY 12, 1846.
I too true a picture of many, whose minds deserved
, a better environment of flesh and raiment.
i Of those who preceded Shakspere, the best
• known names—leaviug Buckhurst and Hill out
of the list—are Lyly, Kyd, Nash, Greene, Lodge
and Marlowe.
®l)c Secret baiilt;
A Tale of Granada.
There was once upon a time a poor mason, or
bricklayer in Granada, who kept all the saint’s
days and holidays, and St. Monday into the bar
gain, and yet, with all his devotion, he grew
poorer, and could scarcely earn bread for his
numerous family. One night he was roused
from his sleep by a knocking at his door. He
opened it, and beheld before him a tall, meagre,
cadaverous looking priest.
“ Hark ye, honest friend !” said the stranger,
“ I have observed that you are a good Christian
and one to be trusted ; will you undertake a job
this very night ?”
“ With all my heart, Senor Padre, on condi
tion that I am paid accordingly.”
“That you shall be; but you must suffer
yourself to be blindfolded.”
To this the mason made no objection; so be
ing hoodwinked, he was led by the priest
through various rough lanes and winding pas
sages, until they stopped before the portal of a
house. The priest then applied a key, turned
a creaking lock, and opened what sounded like
a ponderous door. They entered, the door was
closed and bolted, and the mason was conducted
through an echoing corridor, and a spacious hall,
to an interior part of the building. Here the
bandage was removed from his eyes, and he
found himself in a patio, or court, dimly lighted
by a single lamp. In the centre was the dry
basin of an old Moorish fountain, under which
the priest requested him to form a small vault,
bricks and mortar being at band for the purpose.
He accordingly worked all night,but without
finishing the job. Just before day-break the
priest put a piece of gold in his hand, and hav
ing again blindfolded him, conducted him back
to his dwelling.
“ Are yon willing,” said he, “ to return and
complete your work ?”
“ Gladly, Senor Padre—provided I am so well
paid.”
“Well, then, to-morrow at midnight I will
call again.”
He did so—and the vault was completed.
“ Now,” said the priest, you must help me to
bring forth the bodies that are to be buried in
the vault.
The poor man’s hair rose on his head at these
words; he followed the priest with trembling
steps into a chamber of the mansion, expecting
to behold some ghastly spectacle of death, but
was relieved «h.-uu oribui portly
jars standing in one corner. They were evident
ly full of money, and it was with great effort
that he and the priest carried them forth and
consigned t,.em to their tomb. The vault was
then closed, the pavement replaced, and all
traces of the work obliterated. The mason was
again hoodwinked and led forth by a route dif
ferent from that by which he had come. After
thfcy had wandered for a long time, through a
perplexed maze of lanes and alleys, they halted.
The priest then put two pieces of gold into his
hand.
“ Wait here,” said he, “ until you hear the
cathedral bell toll for matins. If you presume
to uncover your eyes before that time, evil will
befall you.” So saying, he departed.
The mason waited faithfully, amusing himself
by weighing the gold pieces in his hand and
clinking them against euch other. The moment
the cathedral bell rang its matin peal, he un
covered his eyes, and found himself on the
banks of the Zenil, from whence he made the
best of his way home, and revelled with hi
family for a whole fortnight on the profits of his
two nights’ work; after which he was as poor
as ever.
He continued to work a little and pray a good
deal, and kept Saints’ days and holidays from
year to year, while Ins family grew up as gaum
and ragged as a crew of gipsies. As he was
seated one evening at the door of his hovel, he
was accosted by a rich old curmudgeon, who
was noted for owning many houses, and being
a griping landlord. The man of money eyed
him for a moment from beneath a pair of anxious
shagged eye-brows.
“ I am told, friend, that you are very poor.”
“There is no denying of the fact, Senor—it
speaks for itself.”
“ I presume that you would be glad of a job,
and will work cheap.”
“ As cheap, my master, as any mason in Gra
nada.”
“ That’s what I want. I have an old house
fallen into decay, that cost me more than it is
worth to keep it in repair, for nobody will live
in it; so I must contrive to patch it up at as
small expense as possible.”
The mason was accordingly conducted to a
large deserted house that seemed going tb ruin.
Passing through several empty halls and cham
bers, he entered an inner court, where his eye
was caught by an old Moorish fountain. He
paused for a moment, for a dreaming recollec
tion of the place very distinctly came over him.
“ Pray,” said he, “ who occupied this house
formerly ?”
“ A pest upon him 1” cried the landlord, “ it
was an only miserly priest, who cared for no
body but himself. He was said to be immensely
rich, and, having no relations, it was thought he
would leave all his treasures to the church. He
died suddenly, and the priests and friars throng
ed to take possession of his wealth, but nothing
could they find but a few ducats in a leather
purse. The worst luck has fallen on me, for
since , his death, the old fellow continues to
occupy my house without paying rent, and
there’s no taking the law of a dead man. The
people pretend to hear the clinking of gold all
night in the chamber where the old priest slept,
as if he was counting over his money, and some
times a groaning and moaning about the court.
Whether true or false, these stories have brought
a bad name on my bouse, and not a tenant will
remain in it.”
“ Enough,” said the mason sturdily: “ let me
live in your house rent free until some better
tenant present, and I will engage to put it in
repair, and to quiet the troubled spirit that dis
turbs it. lam a good Christian and a poor man,
and am not to be daunfi d by the devil himself,
even though he should come in the shape of a
big bag of money !”
The offer of tlie honest mason was gladly
accepted; he moved with his family into the
house and fulfilled all his engagements. By
little and little he restored it to its former state:
the clinking of gold was heard no more at nighl
in the chamber of the defunct priest, but began
to be heard by day in the pocket of the living
mason. In a word, he increased rapidly in
wealth, to the admiration of all his neighbors,
and became one of the richest men in Granada;
he gave large sums to the church, byway, no
doubt, of satisfying his conscience, and never
revealed the secret of the vault, until on his
death-bed to his son and heir.
“Woman’s Love. —One of the finest traits
in the character of woman, is her devotion to
the being she loves. Time, distance, pain,
sickness, or want make no difference to her;
but she bears all without a murmur, if for one
to whom she is attached. When Commodore
Barclay, who commanded the British fleet on
Lake Erie, was defeated by Perry, he lost his
arm in the engagement, and was otherwise bad
ly wounded. Years before, he had lost a leg
and an arm, and his distressing condition can
be imagined. Previous to his leaving England,
he was engaged to be married to lady of beauty
and fortune, to be consummated on his return.
After he received his wounds on Lake Erie, he
commissioned a friend who was returning to
England, to say to the lady that his frame was a
mere wreck, and that he freely released her
from all the engagements on his part. “ Tell
him,” said the noble woman, in reply to the
messenger—“ tell him that I will marry him, if
he has only body enough to retain his gallant
soul!” The wife of Captain Page, so cruelly
wounded at the battle of Palo Alto, the instant
she heard of it, left her home, one thousand
miles from New Orleans, and on reaching that
city, after travelling night and day, had to re
main two weeks before the steamboat left for
Point Isabel. Her friends there endeavored to
persuade her to await the arrival of her husband
with the rest of the wounded, which would
probably be in a week; but she would not lis
ten to the proposition, as she considered it hei
duty to be by the side of her husband as soon as
possible. Two or three days after her depar
ture he reached New Orleans, which must have
been about the time she arrived at Point Isabel,
thus m'ssing each other. Such a wife will not
be long apart from her brave husband.
Rather Bitter—A bachelor’s reply to a young
lady, who significantly sent him, as a present,
some wormwood—
I’m el id your gift is not a-Miss,
Much worse might me befall ;
The wormwood’s bad alone, but wore
The wormwood and ihe ga! (1.)
Every moment well spent in youth secures a
blessing to old age.
From the Philadelphia Saturday Courier.
©l)rcc per <Lcnt. a Jtlontl).
The last two months of panic, stagnation of
business and scarcity of money, have been, as
such periods always are, a harvest time to the
Algerines, as they are not inappropriately
called, who infest the troubled waters of finance.
Among those whom necessity drove to make
application to one of those gentlemen for a pri
vate discount, was an honest dealer in useful
commodities, who for several years that he had
been in business, had always managed to take
up his paper without asking any favor from
those with whom he dealt. But the unlooked
for scarcity of money that prevailed this spring,
not only reduced his business, but cut off almost
entirely his collections. This did not prevent
the maturing of his notes. Steadily moved on
the days and weeks, and due day after due-day
came, until the poor man was driven to his wits’
ends for money. The bank in which he had for
years kept his accounts, and which had given
him all the facilities he had ever needed, in the
way of discounting notes received in business,
threw out every thing he offered.
Finally, he became completely cornered. He
had a note of three hundred dollars to pay, and
but fifty dollars towards meeting it. lie had
already borrowed from every quarter in which
money could be raised, and owed, on this ac
count, twice as much as he now had to pay in
bank.
In this dilemma, a friend to whom he applied,
suggested the expediency of trying to get a note
discounted on the street, and gave him the di
rection of a well known broker. Hopeless of
doing any thing elsewhere, the dealer took a
note of three hundred dollars, having 4 months
to run, drawn by a house of undoubted credit and
carried it to the broker.
‘ How much will you give ?’ asked the broker,
after he had examined the note.
‘ I wish to get it done as low as possible,’ was
the reply. ‘The paper is «qual to any going.
I always passed it through bank freely, until the
present scarcity occurred?
‘ Yes, money is very scarce indeed. If you
will say what you can give, I will see what I
can do. Is the money wanted to-day ?’ The
broker looked at his watch, and so did his custo
mer. Il was already past one o’clock.
c I suppose,’ said the latter, ‘ that ihe note will
go readily at three-fourths per cent ?’
‘Three quarters per cent.!’ ejaculated the
broker, handing back the note. The money is
worth from one and a half to two per cent.’
‘Two per cent!’ ejaculated the dealer, in
turn. ‘ Twenty-four per cent, per annum ! Who
would pay that for money ? A man had better
shut up shop at once?
. Tb* lr " pl-wijr wkn .In pay Hj allll STC gblll
to get the money even on those terms. It re
quires the very best paper to go even at two per
cent.
‘ It’s no use to talk about it. I never will pay
two per cent, for money replied the applicant,
putting the note in his pocket and turning away.
‘Just as you please was the quiet reply.—
‘ Money is worth its price and always brings
it.’
‘But what am I to do?’ the dealer asked
himself, after he had walked a few paces from ■
the broker’s office. ‘I cannot borrow any
where —it is past 1 o’clock, and my note must
be out of the bank before 3 o’clock. Pay two
per cent I No—no—no I I can’t do that!—
But what shall I do !’
That was a question more easily asked than
answered, as almost every one knows.
Back to his store the dealer went, and there
he sat at his desk for a quarter of an hour, in
vain trying to see away clear through his diffi
culty. But one presented itself, and that invol
ved two per cent a month. The sound of the
clock on the State House, striking the hour of 2,
determined the question, for some time vascilla
ting in his mind. It wasonly a single case, and
could no: hurt him much. Yes, he would pay
cent, rather than have his paper dishon-
To the broker’s he returned. ‘ I must have
the money on this note,’ he said. ‘Get it for me,
even if you have to pay two per cent.’
1 Call round in half an hour,* said the broker;
I I will go and see what I can do.’
‘ Can you get it done sooner than that ?’
‘I am afraid not. You have put it off so
late that 1 shall not find it easy to get the money.
But I will do my best.’
Away went tho broker, with the note, to a
celebrated shaver, who looked at it and pro
nounced it undoubted, and said he would take
it at two and a half per cent.
‘ He expected to get it done at two per cent.’
‘ Must he have it ?’
‘Yes. His note is in bank to-day. He called
on me an hour ago, and wanted it done at three
fourths per cent. When I mentioned two per
cent he went off indignant. But he is back
again at this late hour, and must have the money
or suffer a protest.’
‘Very well. If that is the case, I might just
as well have three percent as two and a half.
I wish the note was for S3OOO instead of S3OO.
It is just the paper I like to shave deep.’
‘ Three per cent, you say ?’
‘ Yes.’
‘ Is that the best ?’
1 The very best.’
‘lt was twenty-five minutes of3 before the
broker got back to his office. He took an airing
in Washington Square after leaving the house of
the shaver.
‘Have you got the money ?’ eagerly asked the
dealer, who had been at his office for 20 min
utes, during which he had examined his watch
more than as many times.
‘No—but there is one man from whom I cm
get it,’ coolly replied the broker.
‘ Then why didn’t you get it ?’
‘ He wants three per cent a month.’
‘ Does he think I’m fool enough to pay it ?’
indignantly asked the dealer.
‘He gets it.’
‘ But not from me. Give ine my note. I
would sooner suffer a thousand protests than
throw a cent into the coffer of such an unprin
cipled scoundrel. Three per cent a month !’
And the man strode away, boiling over with
indignation. It wanted twenty minutes to three
o’clock.
‘ Shall I let the note lie over, or ask 4he
holder to withdraw ij or take it up for me ?’ he
said as he walked along.
Of two evils, he determined to choose the
least. He accordingly went to the holder of the '
note, a merchant in a good business, and told
him that he wished him to withdraw it from
bank, as he could n-t pay it unless he gave
three per cent for money, which he never would 1
‘I wish more were like you,’ replied the
merchant, taking his check-book from his desk, I
and filling up a check for the amount of the i
note. ‘lt is always better to have paper re
newed than it is to raise money by paying ruin- ,
ous rates ofinterest. It makes a man’s business ,
worse instead of belter, and must, if long con
tinued, ultimately ruin any one.’
The dealer heard this with surprise and '
pleasure. It met tils own views precisely. He 1
had expected to meet with reluctance and sus- >
i icion ; but, instead, was approval and confi- <
dence. It was but three minutes of three when |
he entered the bank and lifted the note that had ,
given him so much trouble. As he walked back |
to the store, he met the broker.
‘ Did you get your note out of the bank ?’ the !
latter asked. 1
‘ Yes, and no thanks to the swindling shaver 1
who wanted to cheat me out of some thirty i
dollars.’
‘ How did you manage - |
‘ I.got the holder to lift it.’
‘ That was certainly more sensible than pay- .
ug three per cent, a month,’ said the broker,
‘ You really think so ?’ said the dealer.
‘ Certainly I do. If I were in business, and ’
from stagnation in trade, against which it was J
impossible for me to guard, I was unable to lift J
my notes at maturity, I would require a renewal ■
of them before I would pay a dollar beyond I
legal interest for money. I never knew any one
yet, who did it to any ex’ent, who did not fail in
the end, and his creditors lose just what he had 1
thrown away upon money shavers. It is a 1
wretched system, and lam astonished that bus- i
iness men do not see the folly of it. If I were I
a business man, and in times like these, one of i
mv cusiomers were to ask to have a note, or a ,
part of a note renewed, it lessen my
confidence in him at all j but if"l heard of his '
raising money at two and three per cent, a
mouth to meet my note, I should be careful not
to sell him a great deal more.’
‘ Strange that you should talk so !’ said the
dealer.
‘ Not at all. 1 see the operations of these
matters from from my position. I never shave
notes, but know a number who do, and have no
objection to take a commission from those who
are willing to pay current street rates, for get
ting their paper turned into cash.’
The dealer was a wise man, for he saw deeper
than he did before. He has had a part of
several notes renewed since, and yet his credit
is-not impaired. He is known to be a prudent,
honest man, and money is known to he unusu
ally scarce, and •asiness dull. |Q. P. Q.
JHUfcllaiw.
The Villa Borghese —“ With the exception
" of an ostentatious parade of paltry equipages,
tarnished liveries, and wretched horses on the
Corso, and a frantic attempt, at an opera, Rome,
m May, is a picturesque receptacle for monks,
and goatherds, and nightingales and bells. Like
some haunted place, it appears to be beloved and
frequented only by the apparitions of an obsolete
race. Yet many minds will find it infinitely
more congenial thus, than amidst all the popular
splendors .of its holy week.
‘ Her tranquility, nay, her very desolation, is
enchanting. The summer’s-day circuit of the
Seven Hills seem all your own. You wander
whither you will, meeting few, and disturbed by
none, in short the very antiquity of the place is
one perpetual novelty, and its grave monotony a
serene recreation. I write this in the Villa Bor
ghese, beneath groves of accacias, redolent with
odours, and booming with myriads of bees, the
yellow hay in aromatic quiles, pitched like pavil
ions below the old red walls of Rome, and night
ingales and blackbirds contending in gushes of
ecstatic song '
“ Though not new to me, I had little concep
tion of the intrinsic loveliness of the Villa Bor
ghese till today. Picture to yourself a large vil
lage of the most variegated and romantic charac
ter ; Church, casino, albergo, and farm, scatter
ed amidst the turfy glades of a forest ; and that
forest composed of such trees as the beech, the
elm, the ilex, and above all the sovereign pinas
ter, whose enormous trunks seem to have “con
descened” to arrange themselves into avenues ;
the most charmingly artificial glade of the glos
siest verdure, and vistas haunted by legions of
dim waning statues ; hero or demigod, nymph
or fawn,for ever intermingling but never interfe
ring with each other; their various places of
rendezvous emblazed with flowers of a thousand
colors and flashing with fountains of the most
graceful fancies possible ; while every vista dis
closes some antique portico,rotunda, or vestibule
of those gems that men call temples! Picture these
scenes on some such a May day as this,
“ When God hath shower’d the earth.”
the dark evergreens rejoicing in the rain drops,
and the new born leaves of silky green, transpa
rent with the moisture, which had reluctantly
ceased to shine on their delicate tapestries,
Crown all this with a country palace, oflofty Ita
lian magnificence, a treasure house of antiquity,
painting, and sculpture, diaclosinff otatucs,
auJ gliding, of its noble facade and
massive campaniles, at theextremity ofits dark
est grove of evergreens, glittering in this rain
bow sunlight, and you may have some impres
sion of the Villa Borghese.
“ Such silence and solemnity, that you would
never dream you were near the busy haunt of
men, were it not, that a long linked diapason of
of bells, modulated by every possible infliction
of their lofty language, convinced you that you
were basking amidst all this voluptuous quiet, be
neath the walls of a concealed city, and that city
-Rome '"-Mr. Whytes Sketches of Rome.
Another picture of General Taylor -An
officer who served under General Taylor in the
Florida war, in a conversatton with us, remarks
that his kindness to his men and officers in ill
ness in that sickly climate, endeared him to them
even as much, if not more than his gallantry in
the field. During the dreadful summer of 1839,
when the troops were more than decimated by
the yellow and congestive fevers, he was ever to
be found walking through the wards of the hos
pital, looking out with a keen eye for the com
forts of all, soldier and officer alike. Poor Lieut.
Griffin, his favorite aid, died in thp Aiirrnof
.eou, IU u.e arms ol our informant, and Taylor
stood by his side in his last agony, and when the
suffering spirit of that noble officer sprang out
from its tenement of clay, Taylor knelt down by
the rude couch of the deceased soldier, and burst
into tears. A heart at once so full of true bravery
and tender feeling; formed of daring deeds, and
still capable of soltness and tears, is not often
seen in this iceberg world of ours; and when it is
seen is always appreciated.
The Lieut. Griffin alluded to was a noble fel
low, a brother of Lieutonant William Preston
Griffin, now in the U. S. Navy, and had distin
guished himself on several occasions during the
Florida war. The circumstances of his death
were sadly painful. His leave of absence had
just arrived, and he was about starting North to
be married to a beautiful lady of Virginia, who
still mourns him with a widowed heart. At the
moment his heart was beating high with hope
the hand of death tore him away.
We remember an anecdote told of Lieut. Grif
fin, while on board one of our ships of war,
which does equal credit to his honorand his gal
lantry. A distinguished member of the “ Japon
icadom” of a northern city was dining on board,
with a mess of officers, and when the wine be
gan to circulate pretty freely, enteitained the
company with a recital of several amours of
which he was, of course, the hero. It happened
that in one of these he ventured to slander a lady
of spotless reputation, an acquaintance of Lieut.
G. The gallant officer heard him through with
out interruption, and then rising from the ta
ble, informed him of his acquaintance with and
respect for the lady he had so wickedly tra
duced. “O don’t mind it Grif, don't mind it,”
exclaimed our hero, “it’s all a lie you know;
I only told it to amuse the mess.” Lieut. Griffin
very coolly turned him around, and gave him a
stout kicking, and followed it up till he had
ejected him ironr the state room, observing very
quietly, “don’t mind it , don’t nnnd it; I’m
only doing it for the amusement of- the mess.” A
roar of laughter followed the disconcerted Man
tilini as he slid into a boat and the man tn the
stern sheets cried, “ give way.”
3 alma.—This great actor was endowed in a
truly extraordinary degree, with a mobility of
mind, which enabled him suddenly to assume
the passions, the character, the gestures and one
may almost say the countenance, of the person
whom he had to represent. I recollect that one
day, when on a vist tohis friend, he was reques
ted to repeat some lines, and he made choice of
the dream of Egisthe, in M. Lemercier’s Aga
memnon. Before he began, he observed that he
was not quite sure of recollecting the whole of
the passage, as it was a considerable time since
he had repeated it. The company ranged them
selves in a circle. Talma rose and commenced
the recitation. As soon as he had repeated the
few opening lines, his fine countenance assumed
an expression of dignity,and sorrow which pow
erfully moved all who beheld him. His step,
his look, his attitude, all were tragical, all were
terrible, The company forgot they were assem
bled in a drawing room. They imagined them
selves present at the terrible banquet at which
the father drinks the blood of his son. He raised
the cuo to his lips and an involuntary shudder
passed through the circle. Suddenly his memo
ry failed him ; he stopped short, and raised his
hand'to his forehead. Talma again stood before
us. “Me voila,” said he, smiling, and then rai
sing his arm, Egisthe once more re-appeared.—
His eye flashed fire, his lips were pale and qui
vering, his knees trembled, his hair stood erect
in shortfall the horrors of the character was con
jured with inconceivable rapidity, that Madame
Pasta, who was present, uttered a cry"’of admira
tion and surprize.
Chinese English.—lt is a curious circumstance
and one which shows how extensive has been the
commercial intercourse of England with China,
that almost all Europeans at Canton carry on their
business with the natives through the medium of
the English language. Few foreigners study
Chinese to any extent, and those few ary chiefly
scholars residing in Europe ; but the Chinese at
Canton find it to their interest to pick up a smat
tering of English, and are enabled by its means
to make themselves understood by Europeans:
but it is a strange jargon, made up of words grie
vously mispronounced, often oddly perverted
(rom their proper meaning, and always combined
according to the Chinese idiom. So extraordi
nary is the dialect thus produced, that an English
man on his arrival at Canton understands little
more of it than if it were French or Dutch, and
finds that his own uncontiminated English is as
little understood by the Chinese servant or shop
keeper. It requires a few weeks’ practice to put
him on a level with the natives, and he will then
be able to speak a jargon as uncouth as any Chi
naman.
bmicti).
From the Nashville Gazette.
•California.—Much has been written upon
the fertility of the soil of California, and ol its
general adaptation to the purpose of farming. Il
seems however that it is no grate shakes after
all. Dr. J. W. McDonell of St. L ouis, recently
concluded to visit that country, but on his rout
met with a number of farmers returning and af
ter listening to their represenations, he turned his
lace homeward. From a publication he has
made we extract the following.
California has been represented as the I'aly
of this continent in point of climate. This is,
no doubt, and is concurred in by all. But Cali
fornia, if my information be correct, and I can
not doubt it, can never be a great bread growing
country. It can never rear those products or
supplies which can make a people rich or hap
py. lam informed by the best parct cal far
mers, who have just returned from the coun
try, that they cannot raise corn without water
ing it; that the crop of wheat is, three years out
of five, destroyed by the drought or the rust—by
the scorching winds, near the ocean, —and when
the rrnp oomca to perfection, it falls far short of
our country—the Mississippi valley. They also
state, that although the plains of California are
covered with the finest cattle, and the meat most
abundant, L they found the greatest difficulty in
curing it, and it cannot be kept. Most ot those
who have returned, say that they saw no bacon,
no pickled beef; in fact, nothing to eat but dried
or green meat, and assert that the only products
they can make and export are the hides and tal
low of their beautiful cattle and peltries. Vegeta
tion of almost every variety can be grown, but
they have to water them, and look after them
with as much care as we do the hot house plants
of this country. In short, it is the most beauti
ful country for grazing—for the rearing of cattle
and horses. But you cannot rear the necessaries
of human existance with any abundance or with
comfort.
In the spring, or from January to June, the
country is covered with wild oats and clover,
which are indigenous to the soil, and is the most
beautiful to behold, al that season of the year,
that the eye ever rested on,and to ride through
it and see thousands on thousands of the most
beautiful cattle, horses, the wild deer, the elk,
and the antilope, roaming over it, fills the soul
with admiration. But when the rainy season
is over and the drought sets in, from June to
January, it is parchedup and looks like a sterile
sandy waste; and I assert it to be most true that
the greater part of Upper California is not un
like the plains on which buflulos rove on our side
of me mountains, and which produces alone the
grass on which the millions of those animals
feed, and which never can produce the necesaries
and comforts for human life.
An Unenviable State of Alarm. —Mr.
Dean, the father of Julia Dean, was for many
years manager of the Buffalo Theatre. While
holding this position, he had a ‘‘ properly man”
(an officer whose task it is to furnish all the
book, furniture, &c., used upon the stage,) who
was so matter of fact in the performance of his
duties that every thing written in the stage di
rections was literally regarded by him. The
late Mr. Abbott was playing an engagement at
this Theatre,, and among other characters, per
formance The Stranger in the play of that name,
and Mr. Beverly in r £he Gamester. The book
of the first mentioned piece states that the stran
ger is discovered reading tc Zimmerman on Soli
tude.” The literal minded property man tra
versed the city for several days before he could
procure a copy of this very scarce work. When
Abbot was told of this he indulged in adiearty
laugh, and the subject never occurred to him
again until he was on in the last scene of the
The Gamester. He had just swallowed the con
tentes of the phial, supposed to contain poison,
when it occurred to him that the literal man had
this impression he pictured the agonies o
‘death” almost to the “ life,’ but during the play
of the other characters he had time to imagine
how dreadful it would be to die in that position,
when, his terror getting the better of his courage,
he bolted suddenly from the stage, and rushed
like a madman to the nearest drug store. With
a powerful emetic and the assurance of the proper
ty man that the phial had contained only molas
ses and water, Abbot recovered his self-posses
sion. Poor fellow !he really died upon the stage
at a late period.
The Hon. Daniel S. Dickinson has, as is well
known, a very great ambition to be considered
witty. Indeed, this propensity is so strong that
it is sometimes indulged at his own expense. A
few days after he experienced such as unparal
leled castigation at the hands of Mr. Webster,
he had occasion to visit Broome County on bu
siness. The news of his misfortune having pre
ceded him, he was of course an object of com
misseration to his friends, and of no little
amusement tohis political opponents. Stopping
at a public house near his residence on the day
of his return, a number of his Whig neighbors
surrounded him, and tendered somewhat mis
chievously their congratulations upon his en
counter with the distinguished Massachusetts
Senator. ‘ I thank you, gentlemen,’ said Mr. D.
‘it was an unpleasant duty to demolish Mr.
Webster, but upon the whole I thought it best to
make no half way work of it.’
Rochester American.
An editor in Arkansas, whose sign swings
from a pine tree, in advertising for an appren
tice, says that “one from the country would be
preferred.” This editor being recently laid out
with a severe attack of the ‘Ager,’ the editorial
duties devolved upon his ‘ better half.’ The
following was her ‘leader-.’
The colored brother, Ben Dawson, commonly
called ‘ Nigger Ben,’ will preach at the big
church over the run on Sunday next, Providenge
permitting. After service a possum hunt will
come off. Fine sport is anticipated.
A Dog Story.—The Waterbury American
relates as good an instance of the useful sagac
ity of the dog, as we remember to have lately
seen recorded, numerous as stories of this kind
are. While a farmer in a neighboring town was
paying another fora cow, he accidentally drop
ped a $5 bill in the street. Without noticing
the loss, both left the spot, but the dog kept by,
and on their return some time after, he was still
occupying the place, and as they discovered with
surprise, holding the lost bill between his teeth
in a very careful manner, so as not to injure it.
Absurdities. —To make your servants tell
lies lor you, and afterwards be angry because
they tell lies for themselves.
To tell your own secrets, and believe others
will keep them.
To fancy a thing is cheap because a low price
is asked for it..
To vote for a candidate at an election, be
cause he shakes hands with your wife and child
and admires the baby.
When Cromwell made his public entiy into
Rondon, his companions remarked to him upon
the vast concourse of people who came from all
parts toseehim. ‘ There wouldbejustasmany,’
said he, ‘ if I was going to the scaffold. ’
Progress of Science I —The galvanic bat
tery has, it is said, been applied in England to
the coppering of ships. The vessel is introduced
into a basin filled with a solut.on of sulphate of
copper. The portion to be coppered is covered
with a coat of plumbago, the batteiies are put
in communication, and at once the copper is
precipitated on its surface.
It was a pretty saying of a little boy, who,
seeing two nestling birds picking at each other,
inquired of his elder brother what they were
doing. ‘ They are quarrelling,’ was the answer.
‘No,’ replied the child, ‘that cannot be ; they
are brothers.’
Genuine Port.—A friend calling one day du
ring the French war, upon an innkeeper in
Croydon or Kingston, was received by the host
with his sleeves tucked up, and both his arms of
a sanguinous hue. Upon inquiring the cause of
such an appearance, he answered, privately,
that there was to be a great dinner of all the vo
lunteer corps in the neighborhood on the follow
ing day, and that he was then brewing the port
wine.
To stop a runaway HORSE. —If on horseback,
throw your bridle rains round his neck if pos
sible, to choke him, or choke him with your
arms, and he must stop. If in a wagon, and
running away is feared, provide a strong cord,
with a sliding-noose placed round his neck ; ifhe
runs, draw the cord forcibly; he Is choaked and
stops instantly.
Shells.—The Lynn News says that a very
beautifull and singular appearance has recently
presented it-selfon Lynn Beach. The prevail
ing West winds of the last month have brought
up myriads of the young of the great clam, so
that the beaches are literally white with them.
They are less than a finger-nail in size but there
are enough, if fully grown to load a hundred
ships.
PRICE THREE CENTS.
What is a Baby ?—The following postscript
of a letter to the editor of the Knickerbocker, is
one ol the richest specimens of fun and burner
we have met with in a long time.
P. S. —Whoop ! hurrah I light upon the world
again! Where are you, my fine editor? Didi
ever talk to dust and ashes? Oh I sir, I lied
multitudinously. Every muscle, every nerve,
that didn’t try to strangle me in that utterance,
lied. No, sir, let me tell you that it’s a great
world! glorious, magnificent; a world that
can’t be beat. Talk of the stars, and a better
world, but don’t invite me there yet. Oh, no,
this morning is quite too beautiful to leave,and
besides, 1 bad rather stay, if only to thank God
a little longer for this glorious light, pure air,
that can echo back my loudest hurrah! And
then, my boy—but havn’t I tcld you ? Why,
sir, I've got a boy ! —a boy—ha, I shout it to
you—a boy, fourteen pounds, and the mother
a great deal better than can be expected. And
I say, Mr. Editor, it’s mine ! —hurrah and halle
lujah forever ! Oh, sir, such legs, such arms,
and such a head I and oh, he has his mothers
lips ! I could kiss them forever. And then, sir
look at his feet, his hands, his chin, his eyes__
his. every thing, in fact—sa‘perfectly O. K.
Give me joy, sir ; you needn’t either. Pm full
now—l run over, and they say that—l run over
several old women, half killing (he mother, pul
ling the doctor by the nose, and upset a ’pothe
cary shop in the corner; and then didn’t I ring
the tea bell ? Didn’t I blow the horn ? Didn’t
I dance, shout, laugh, and cry altogether? The
women said they had to tie me up. I can’t be
lieve that, but who’s going toshut up his mouth
when he has a Mve baby ? You should have
heard his lungs, sir, at the first mouthful of
fresh air—such a bust! A little tone in his
voice, but not pain—excess of joy, sir, from too
great sensation. The air bath was too sudden
you know.
Think of all this beautiful machinery starting
ofi at lull motion, all his thousand outside feel
ers answering to the touch of the cool air, the
flutter and crash at the ear—and that curious
contrivance of the eye, looking out wonderingly
and bewilderedly upon the great world, so glo
rious and dazzling to his unknown perceptions
—his net work of nerves, his wheels.and pul
leys, and his air pumps and valves, his engines
and reservoir, and all within that beautiful
fountain, with its jets and running streams
dashing and coursing through the length and
breadth, without a stint or pause, making alto
gether, sir, exactly fourteen pounds.
lam this day multiplied with two. lam a
duplicate. lam one of an indefinite series, and
there is my continuation. And you observe, it
is not a block or a blockhead, nor a painting, nor a
fragment of anything, however, beautiful but
a combination of all the arts and sciences in one
—painting, sculpture, mechanics, (see him
kick) geography and the use of the globes, (see
him nurse,) and withal he a perpetual motion,
a time piece, that never runs down. And who
wound it up ? But words, sir, are words.
A sly tip of the Creature.—One of our
subscribers, says the Rhode Island Republican,
who happened to be in Newport last summer,
got down into the bar-room at a very early
when there was nobody but a boy in attendance;
when 10, who should come in first but a tall,
well dressed, very solemn looking Quaker gen
tleman, (it was yearly meeting.) Helookedabout
for a moment, and then turning to the boy
“ Boy,” said he, “ docs thee make any lemon
ade ?”
“ Certainly, sir, a great deal every day.”
“ Well, make me a glass, and take the largest
size tumbler.” "
The boy mixed the ingredients, and poured
in water about half full. '
“ Stop—leave a vacancy. Has thee any old
French brandy ?”
“ Yes, sir.”
“ Well, pour in till I tell thee to stop.—
(Pours.) Stop! Has thee got any good Jamai
ca rum ?” :
eu:ie, sir.
“ Any Santa Cruz'?”
“Yes, sir.”
“ Well, pour till I tell thee to stop.”
The boy did as he was directed, then mixed
if, and our Quaker friend, putting the brim-full,
well-seasoned beaker to his lips, poured down
in one continuous stream the whole potation,
without the interruption of a breath. Then
with that look of satisfaction to the inner man,
which, on such occasions, is seen but not de
scribed, he set down his glass and inquired
what was to pay. lie. paid and . turned to go
away, tint stopped as it he had forgotten some
thing just.as he reached the door, and casting
back an eye to the fountain of refreshment,
where, he had imbibed the exhilerating bever
age, he exclaimed—
“ Lad, thee’s a small boy, but thee does make
a great lemonade!”
To Wine-Drinkf.rs.—lt is not generally
known that wine baths are quite common in
France—nevertheless, such is the case. The
Duke of Clarence is not the only gentleman who
has enjoyed an immersion in malmsey. Punch
has tried it with the very best sherry. Only
imagine ! Punch—the veritable English Punch
—swimming in French wine, and kicking, and
plunging, and laughing, until the tears ran
down his cheeks, and never thinking of ex
pense—a five franc piece !
“ Whnt ! a five franc piprn fr<r'a tub full of
wine ? Hurrah ! Fwe la France !”
“ Gently—gently. At leastjS/Zy others bath
ed in the same wine— after Punch. The keep
er of the bagne had a preference for Punch, and
gave Punch the first dip. After him came fifty
others—piaking in all fifty five franc pieces.' A
good price for the tub.”
“ The wine was then thrown out ?”
“ Not at all. Not so, by any means.”
“ What then ?”
“ Bottled ! Bottled, of course I”
“Bottled! And for what purpose ?”
“ Why, for drink, to be sure.”
“ Drink! Who would drink such stuff?”
“Why, the English do—the Yankees do!
The latter import it in large quantities. It is a
great favorite in Yankeeland.”
Now, dear wine-drinking friends, anti-tem
perance friends, when you next smack your
lips over a glass of champagne or burgundy,
reflect that a Lyonese aiderman may possibly
have bathed in it, and see if the reflection will
assist you in appreciating its flavor.
The Horse Chaunter.—A loafer being
brought up before one of the London Courts, the
judge demanded—
‘ What is your trade?’
‘ A horse chaunter, my lord ?’
‘ A what ? a horse chaunter I why what’s that?
‘ Vy, my lord, aint you up to that ere trade ?’
‘I require you to explain yourself.’
‘ Vel, my lord,’ said he, ‘ I goes round among
the livery stables, they all on ’em knows me,
and when I sees a gem’man bargaining for an
’orse, I just steps up like a tee total stranger,
and ses I, vel, that’s a rare ’un, I’ll be bound,
he’s got the beautifulst ’ead and neck I ever
seed, ses I, only look at its open nostrils, he’s
got vind like a no-go-motive, I’ll be bound he’ll
travel a hundred miles a day, and never once
think on’t; them’s the kind of legsvot never fails.
Vel, this tickles the gem’man, and he says to
’imself, that ere ’onest countryman’s a real judge
of a ’orse, so please you my lord he buys ’im
and trots off. I then goes up to the man vat
keeps the stable, and axes ’im, vel, vat are you
going to stand for that ere chaunt, and he gives
me ’alf a sovereign; vel,-that’s vat I calls ’orse
chaunting, my lord, there’s rale little ’arm in’t
—there’s a good many sorts on us, some chaunts
canal, and some chaunts railroads.”
Signs for Children—When I see a boy or girl
always looking out for something for themselves
and dislike to shale good things with others, I
think it a sign that the child will grow up a very
selfish person.
When I see boys and girls often quarrelling, I
think it a sign that they will be violent and hate
ful men and women.
When I see a little boy willing to taste strong
drink, I think it a sign that he will be a drun
kard.
When I see a child obedient to its parents, I
think it a sign of great future blessings from Al
mighty God.
“ I have encountered fraudelent debtors,” said
Lord Mansfield, “ but where I have encountered
one fraudulent debtor, I meet nine hundred frau
dulent creditors.”
“ So,” says a Scott-man to a Gaines-man, yes
terday, “ so your favorite, Gen, Gaines, is to be
removed to a more northern command.”
“ Ah, that may be,” said the Gaines man,“but
your favorite, Gen. Scott, is already soup-ereeA
ed.”
Integrity without knowledge is weak, and
knowledge without integrity is botli dangerous
and dreadful.
A rare chance. —In Austin, Texas, at the
last accounts, there were only a baker's dozen of
young girls and they had all been tormented with
offers.