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Sunday dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1845-1854, July 19, 1846, Image 1

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Dispatch.
VOL. I. NO. 33.
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 Square
(of sixteen lines) the first insertion, and Fifty Cents fcA’
every subsequent insertion. Advertisements for a lon
ger period at the same rate.
A. J. WILLIAMSON,) „
WILLIAM BURNS, i Publisher..
[Original.]
WOE TO THE CROWN.
BY ROBERT E. H. LEVERING.
(Composed while touring through Ireland at the re
quest of some Dublin gentlemen )
Woe to the Crown ! it must come down ?
I ’Tis gemm’d with the tears of Irish shedding !
Woe to the Throne ! instead of stone,
’Tis bas’d on Irish bosoms bleeding !
We’ll rise tn might, to melt the night
That basely hides our former glory,
And bring to light, to shine as bright,
The traces of our ancient story I
CHORUS.
Woe to the Crown 1 it must come down !
’Tis gemm’d with the tears of Irish shedding!
Woe to the Throne ' instead of stone,
’Tis bas’d on Irish bosoms bleeding !
Though pain and wrong, through eras long,
Have foully mark’d our constant suing,
Our hearts are strong, and shall e’er long,
Repel each stroke of guilt and ruin !
We see the truth, and scorn the wrath
That harshly seeks to dim our seeing !
With might and seathe, on “ Freedom’sfpaths.”
We’ll boldly fight the tyrants fleeing !
The free and brave, from Thraldom’s grave,
And Freedom’s Home, our weal desiring,
Have heard us grieve, and cheer to save,
Our leaping hearts to fight inspiring!
They broke the chain, that gives us pain,
And won the prize for which we’re praying !
The same to wean, w’fe’ll do again,
Their noble deeds without delaying !
Woe to the Crown, its splendor gone,
The wise and good despise the bauble !
We’ll melt it down, when Freedom’s won,
To pay ourselves for present trouble !
Woe to the Throne ! ’tis tott’ring down !
The true and brave shall be victorious !
We’ll join as one, to get our own,
Our heav’nly rights and Freedom’s glories!
3,n interesting better
From London.
[We are permitted by a friend to make the
following extracts from a letter, written by an
American gentleman now residing in London.
They will be found to present a better idea of
the great questions now agitating the British pub
lic, than any that has appeared either in the shape
of European correspondence or editorial com
ment, on this side of the Atlantic. It is proper
for us to add that the opinions expressed with
regard to the Irish Repeal movement, we are re
luctant to coincide with ; still we submit them
to the consideration of our readers —Ed.]
London, June 18, 1846.
The accounts of the battles of Palo Alto and
Resaccade la Palma, brought out by the Britan
nia have had an astounding effect upon the poli
ticians of all parties in London. The previous
intelligence which was, as far as it went, favor
able to the Mexicans, led some parties here to
believe that General Taylor was in a very criti
cal position, and that the next packet would
bring an account of the total destruciion of him
self and his army. This state of things created a
sympathetic feeling in favor of Mexico, and the
High Tory party were loue in their execrations
of the ambition and cupidity of Brother Johna
than. The dispatches of General Taylor have
however, taken the film from their eyes, all
sympathy has vanished, and contempt—utter
contempt for the Mexicans is now the order of
the day. Trifling as this is, it shows the instabi
lity of popular and party feelings and opinions,
and how easily they may be changed into differ
ent and opposite directions. It is but fair to say
that General Taylor’s account of the two ac
tions has extored the most unreserved praise and
admiration from all parties; but particularly
from military men. The conciseness and sim
plicity of the language of his dispatch, and the
discipline and forbearance of the American
army under such tryingcircumstances has given
the English people an idea of the strict discipline
and bravery of the American troops, and of the
tact and generalship of their leaders, that they
never had before. The liberal portion of the
press is also loud in its prarse of the gallantry of
General Taylor and his army. I quote a few
lines from an article in the London Times of
June the 15th, which strikes me to be the high
est compliment that could be well paid to the
general and his army: “ He writes like a man of
sense, skill and courage, and we have not the
slightest wish to detract from the honors he has
gallantly earned under the flag of his country.
The behavior of the American general and his
troops deserves to be judged of by a much higher
standard than the policy of the government
which it is their duty to serve. The conduct of
the Mexican army, on the contrary, demonstrates
the utter inability of that government to protect
any portion of its dominions from invasion, and
it degrades the descendants of ih« Spanish
Americans still loWer in the rank of nations.”
This, I think, is pretty well for the “old lady”
of Printing House Square. But you are not to
infer from this that the war with Mexico is
looked on with favor—far from it; it is looked
on with alarm and dismay by the Mexican bond
holders, and the commercial and manufacturing
interests connected with that country, and that
these interests will complain and remonstrate,
and memorialize the government to interfere and
put a stop to what they will term American
aggression: yet, after all, lam of opinion that the
British administration will not offer any serious
obstacle to the settlement of the Mexican diffi
ties by ourselves and in our own way, for rea
sons which will hereafter appear.
The bill for the repeal of the Corn Laws, the
all absorbing topic for the last three months, is
all but passed, for it went to a committee of the
Lords on the 15th instant, and after the most vio
lent opposition from the Duke of Buckingham,
chief of the protection party in the Upper
House, Lord Stanley, the Earl of Wicklow,
Lord Beaumont and other Lords of that party,
it passed by a triumphant majority, but whether
the success of this measure will be for good
or for evil, time can only unfold—that it
will confer a great and lasting benefit to the
commercial and manufacturing interests, no
one can dispute but on the other hand it is
equally indisputable that it will entail a fearful
amount of injury and privation to other classes
of her majesty’s liege subjects: first, it will re
duce the rents of the aristocracy to a fearful
amount, and this was the real cause of the stand
they made against it—for the Lords, notwith
standing all their boasted patriotism were fight
ing for their own bread and butter; secondly,
there is a large class which may be termed mid
dle, or mense tenants, who hold valuable lease
hold and copy hold interests under the great
landed proprietors. These interests in a few years
will be of little or no value, by the reduction in
the rents, which must necessarily fall on the
passage of this billow. As to the farmers or occu
piers who hold the land from year to year, which
is a tenure very general in England. I do not see
how they can be prejudiced by it—they can, and
doubtless will, throw up their farms or get a re
duction in their rents to suit the exigencies of
the times; the third, and last class upon which
it will operate with great severity, is the agricul
tural laborers who are dependent solely on the
farmers for support for themselves and families.
The farmers will soon find out if they do not al
ready know it, that it would be a loosing game
to raise wheat, oats, and barley, and they will of
necessity turn their attention to the raising of
stock, and let their farms out of tillage: hence
the whole class of farm laborers will be thrown
out of employment, and they and their families
■will necessarily have to resort to the poor law
for support, the last refuge of the down trodden
Englishman, such will be the operation of the
Corn Bill in England; but, bad as this is, it will
be only as the gentle flowing of a fountain to the
rush of a mountain torrent, in comparison to the
effects it will produce in another section of the
British Empire. I mean Ireland. In this island
it will cause a complete revolution among the
landed proprietors—that is to say, the whole
landed property of the country will change hands.
The man who is now lord of the soil will, with
his family, in the course of a few years be melted
down into the peasantry. That you may under
stand this let me tell you, that the Irish land
lords are steeped to the chin in debt, their estates
incumbered by mortgages, judgments and family
charges to nearly their full amount, the effect of
this law, notwithstanding the systematic barbar
ity of Irish landlords in exacting rack rents from
their tenants, will inevitably produce such a re
duction in their rent-roll, that the rents will not
be sufficient to meet the interest of the incum
brances on their estates. In this state of things,
creditors will resort to the Chancellor—the whole
landed property of the country will be thrown
into the Court of Chancery, and finally wilt be
sold by a decree of that Court under the hammer
of the auctioneer. A silent revolution will thus
be brought about; thus will the property in the
soil change hands; the men who now call them
selves the Corinthian pillars of the state, will be
thrown from their high places, their sons and
daughters be obliged to amalgamate with their
former tenants and dependents, and in the course
of two generations, at farthest, their names and
families will be forever forgotten. Such will be
the effects of this law in Ireland, according to
the opinion of several well informed persons
with whom I have conversed on the subject, and
with whom I fully concur My informants also
add other grievances to the catalogue, which,
they say, it will inflict upon that unhappy people;
but, my own opinion is, that the only class to be
seriously affected by it is the aristocracy. •
The other two great leading measures of the
session, and upon, which according to rumor,
Sir Robert Peel’s political existence depends,
are the Sugar and Coercion bills: upon these
two measures he will be opposed to the death,
and that by powerful and influential parties.
Upon the former he will have to contend with
the West India interest, a powerful body, inter
ested in a monopoly of the Sugar trade. This
party will be supported by the fanatical aboli
tionists and the protectionists—the latter party,
whom the Minister has foiled by the passage of
the Corn Law, will throw themselves into the
ranks of the former, in the hope of driving him
from her majesty’s counsels, that they themselves
may lake the reins of government into their own
hands.
To this influence will be opposed the imme
diate adherents of Sir Robert, together with the
whigs, the whig radicals and the Irish repeal
party. If these elements can be blended together,
and from what I have heard and my own obser
vations, I have no doubt that they can, they
will form a party such as no opposition will be
able to withstand. You may calculate to a dead
certainty that the Sugar bill will be carried with
the same eclat by which the passage of the Corn
Law has been served. In regard to the Coercion
bill, a different result may happen.
The prevailing opinion here is, that if Sir Ro
bert was really in earnest, and wished to carry
it, he would meet with less opposition than in
the passage of the other two because, a
measure to abridge the liberty of the people and
more especially of the Irish people, is always re
ceived most favorably by a majority of the Bri
tish House of Commons, but it is shrewdly sus
pected that the failure ot the Coercion bill, it
such an event does happen, and the consequent
retirement of Sir Robert, is a combined move
ment between himself and Lord John Russell
and their respective parties to allow the Whigs
to come into power again, in order that one
grand effort may be made to break up agitation
and the repeal party in Ireland. You will na
turally ask how the retirement of Sir Robert
Peel and the accession to power of the Whigs
are to bring about this much to be desired con
summation. In this way, as I have been in
formed. It appears that a deep and wide-spread
disaffection exists in the repeal ranks : the party
is split into two fictions—one the Smuh O’Brien
party, or, as tljey are sometimes called, Young
Ireland; and the old party, or >he O’Connellists.
The Young Ireland party are becoming dissatis
fied with passive agitation, and wish to intro
duce a more energetic and stringent system of
measures, with this object they wish to raise
Smith O’Brien, who is a young and vigorous
man, possessing considerable tact and talent, to
the leadership of the repeal party. On the other
hand, the O’Connell party are determined, at all
hazards that he shall continue, during his life, to
be the leader of the repeal movement, and that
his policy, which is a peaceful passive agitation,
shall not be departed from. There is another
party in Ireland, called the Liberal party, which
have always steadily adhered to and acted with
English Whigs, and will not under any circum
stance act with or take office under the Peel
party, although I understand Sir Robert has time
and again make advances to them. A great
many of them have since the accession of Sir
Robert to power, gone over to the Repealers.
This stale of affairs in Ireland, it is supposed,
presents the most favorable opportunity that has
occurred for many years, to break up the Repea l
party. With this view Sir Robert will allow
himself to be beaten on the Coercion bill, retire,
and allow Lord John and his friends to come into
power The first act of the new administration
will be to give office to their party in Ireland
who have been wavering for the last two or
three years between the Whig party in England
and the Irish Repealers, and wean them forever
from this party. They will also give office to
such of the Repealers as will accept, and will use
all their patronage and influence, both directly
and indirectly, to widen the breach between the
twy factions, to break up the party and put a
stop to all future agitation. How far this ma
noeuvre may be successful, I do not pretend to
say, but there are many respectable persons well
acquainted with the national peculiarities of the
people and with Irish politics, who are quite san
guine about its success. They reason from the
excitability of their character, their pugnacity
and their pronjness, in all ages, to dissension
and quarreling amongst themselves, whether this
reasoning is well founded or not, time only can
declare.
You will, no doubt, hear of the death of Ganse
voort Melville before this letter reaches you.
Poor fellow, his death was sudden and unex
pected, he was called from among us in the bloom
of youth and full vigor of manhood, he was the
delight of every circle in which he moved here,
and, by his amiable disposition and the bland
ness of his manners raised up amongst the English
people a host of friends for himself, and, if Ma
dame Rumor is to be credited, had he lived for
a few months longer, he would have been mar
ried to a beautiful and accomplished lady, who,
in addition to her beauty and accomplishments,
had fifty thousand golden charms. Peace to his
remains.
Shirt Tree. —Providence has not only been
bountiful in supply of food, but even of raiment.
In the forest of Oronoko (South America) there
is a tree, which often attains the height of fifty
feet. The natives make shirts of the bark ofthis
tree, which requires only to be stripped oft’, and
to be deprived of its red fibrous parts. The head
is thrust through one end, and the latern holes
are cut to admit the arms. The nativeswear
these shirts in rainy weather, which, acording
to Humboldt,are equal to any of our Mackintosh
es to keep out the wet.
We have a protest to make. It has got to be
the fashion to say of every busy idler, who drinks
deep , gambles whenever he can get a chance,
runs in debt to his tailor, shoemaker or landlady
insultspoor and friendless girls with dishonora
ble proposals and boasts of his gallantries when
ever he can compel people to listen ; —of a man
of this class, we say, who pays society for the
privileges which itgives, by inflicting on it nume
rous little wrongs, which in the aggregate be
come a great outrage, it has got to be the fashion
to say he is a man of the world
A western editor speaking of the Oregon quesj
tion,says—lf we must have a war, let us be found
erect, in a posture of defence, and at least with
I our national pantaloons braced up.
(Written for the Sunday Dispatch.]
ffiottng JJljiisic.
NO. XVI.
Homoeopathy—Further Exposures abroad.
We continue to day our extracts from Dr. Ed
win Lee’s able and instructive work: The
experiments made in Paris to show how far ho
moeopathy had claims to public confidence, also
tend to prove that where any effects are produced
they are to be ascribed to the influence of the
imagination.
First. Several medical students of the Hotel
Dieu, chosen by a Homoeopathic physician,were
subjected to the homoeopathic regimen, and took
at first one, then two, then ten, and at last eighty
globules at a dose, of the most active medicines
prepared by the only homoeopathic chemist in Pa
ris. In not one instance was the slightest ef
fect produced.
Secondly. A number of pills made with inert
substances, as flour, gum arabic, and starch,
were given to patients who believed them to be
homoeopathic remedies. I subjoin two or three
of the results obtained.
Aphonia, of six weeks duration, cured in a few
hours|by starch pills givenHomoeopathically A girl
eged twenty, was admitted on the I4th January
with a complete loss of voice, which had existed
since the middle of November. She had expe
rienced a similar attack in the preceding year,
but had recovered in fifteen days. Menstruation
was regularly performed. A lew days’s rest, and
the usual hospital regimen, produced no effect;
she was consequently placed in the department,
where the homoeopathic experiments were made,
and was ordered two starch pills ; the first to be
taken in the presence of the physician, the next
when four hours had elapsed. A few minutes
after the first pill had been swallowed, the fol
lowing symptoms manifested themselves—anxie
ty, pain, and uneasiness in the region of the
heart and thorax, perspiration, with heat and
eruption on the skin. The second pill appeared
to aggravate these symptoms, with the addition
of hiccough. She afterwards fell asleep, and on
awaking, was astonished to find she could talk in
a loud tone. The complaint did not recur, and
she soon quitted the hospital.
A man, aged forty, was admitted about th e
same time as the preceding patient, complaining
of sense ot oppression on the chest. He had ex
perienced an attack of hemoptysis a year before
and was exceedingly hypocondriacal. During
the first four days no treatment was adopted,and
and he continued in the same state. Four starch
pills, which he supposed to be homoeopathic re
medies, were then prescribed ; one to be taken
regularly every six hours. Half an hour after
swallowing each pill the patient experienced anxi
ety, sense of oppression, spitting of blood. The
pills were discontinued, and resumed on alter
nate days during a fortnight. Each time they were
taken, they were followed by oppression, head
ache, acceleration of pulse, diuresis, and pains
in all the limbs.
A girl, aged twenty three, laboring under
cough with hectic fever, and sleeplessness, was
also treated by these inert pills which she ima
gined to be homcF.opathic. Each time after ta
king a pill the fever diminished, the cough was
less fatiguing, and she slept better ; she suffered
more when she did not take it, and always re
quested to have her“calming pill.”
The following case occurred to a physician at
St. Petersburgh : “ A lady, aged forty eight,
phthisical, had been treated by the homoeopathic
method during two years, when I became her
physician ; and as my efforts were unsuccessful,
she requested me to treat her homoeopathically.
I consented, and gave her two grainsof sugar, as
suring her she would experience the effects of
this powerful medicine for six days. The follow
ing day she received me with an ironical smile,
saying, “ One may easily see, doctor, that you
are,not accustomed to handle homoeopathic re
medies : that which you gave me was too ener
getic ; it caused so much disturbance, that J did
not expect to outlive the night; however its ac
tion is in the end salutary, for I have not felt my
self so well for a long time as I have felt to
day.”
Thirdly, Two physicians attached to an hospi
tal, experimented upon the injirmiers, or male at
tendants in their wards. One physician desired
his infirmiers to note down every hour the sensa
tions they experienced, after taking what they
supposed to be a homoeopathic agent. They all
experienced various sensations, of which the
following is a specimen :
A young man in perfect health took eight pills,
containing a minute portion of charcoal, and at
the expiration of half an hour had noted the fol
lowing symptoms ; headache, confusion, imper
fect vision, flushing of the face. On repeating
the same dose, the symptoms recurred, with vio
lent perspiration.
Fourthly, The other physician conducted his
experiments differently : he took every morning
s x homoeopathic pills, and at the end of a certain
period, asked his inffrmiers if they were willing
to do the same ; they consented, and did not ex
perience the slightest effect.
Thus, in the first experiment, the individuals
expecting to experience extraordinary sensations
from being required to note them down, do not
fail to feel some, as would be the case with most
ptrsons under similar circumstances.On the other
hand, those who saw no effect produced on their
superior by the pills, also take them, and not ex
pecting any particular sensations, do not expe
rience any.
I might adduce various other examples, but
being desirous not to extend this article, I shall
content myself with briefly alluding to the expe
riments of Professor Andral at the hospital La
Pitie.
A hundred and thirty individuals were treated
by homceopathic remedies in the presence of nu
merous witnesses. The regimen recommended
by Hahnemann was strictly adhered to, and the
prescriptions prepared by a homoeopathic che
mist. The experiments were of two kinds ; first
to ascertain wheher symptoms can be produced
in healthy persons by medicines which cure si
milar symptoms when arising from other causes.
Bark was one of the first substances chosen, and
its various preparations were taken by Mr. An
dral, and ten other persons, at first in .homceo
pathic doses, which produced no effect; then in
ordinary doses, which were gradually increased
up from six to four and twenty grains of sulphate
of quinine per day. None of these persons expe
rienced the least symptoms of an attack of inter
mittent fever ; the only effects produced by the
large doses were slight indisposition and head
ache,in some whose stomachs were not so strong
as the rest.
Aconitum, which, according to the homceopa
thists, is of superior efficacy to blood-letting in
febrile diseases, was tried, and produced no ef
fect. Sulphur was also tried by several persons,
without any eruption being produced on the
skin.
Thus the statement that remedies cause disea
ses, resembling those which they cure, is an as
sertion utterly groundless.
The second kind of experiments was made to
ascertain whether homceopathic remedies would
iu any case effect the progress of disease.
Several cases of intermittent fever were treat
ed homoeopathically. Some got well at the end
of a certain period, which would in all probabili
ty have been the case, had no remedies been em
ployed; in other cases no effect was produced,
and, on the usual method of treatment being
adopted, the patients got rapidly well. Similar
results were obtained in treating febrile diseases
and several chronic complaints, except that in
some cases the patients got worse while under
the homeopathic system.
Charity.—How noiselessly the snow comes
down. You see it, feel it, but never hear it. It
is like true charity. Charity makes no noise in
the world, but distributes wherever there is
poverty. A person who does good out of pure
benevolence, never spreads it abroad in the cir
cle in which he moves or makes it public through
a newspaper.
It was remarked of Themistocles ihat he pre
ferred marrying his daughter to a man who
lacked wealth, rather than one who lacked sense
Had all fathers been of the same openion’ the
world wonld not only have been spared a host of
fools, but there would have been more happiness
in it than there is.—Ex. paperi
NEW YORK, SUNDAY MORNING, JULY 19, 1846.
®l)£ drmperor’s Page.
An Incident of Napoleon’s Reign.
“ I saw the lover wandering by,
With one cold cheek and nerveless air,
He pressed her heart, I heard him sigh,
Oh what wild tho’ts were gathering there.”
’Twas past midnight when an idividual,close
ly muffled in a dark military cloak, was rapidly
passing through one of the most unfrequented
streets of Paris. It was a black night, not a star
was visible ir. the unclouded heavens—a circum
stance which was suited to the purpose of the pe
destrian, whose concealed person and hasty
movement plainly indicated his wish to gain his
destination unobserved. Suddenly, however,his
progress was arrested by the hand of a page who
emerged from the obscurity of a portal and held
a pistol to the pedestrian’s head, demanding
“ money.”
“ Psha !’ cried the pedestrian, endeavoring to
shake off his new acquaintance “ Away, and
don’t detain mel”
“ I must have gold I” cried the frenzied youth.
—“ My miseries have maddened me ! Refuse
me, and this pistol sends a bullet through your
head.” _
The otherperceiving his danger, suddenly dis
incumbered his right arm ofhis cloak, and with
the velocity of lightning, laid the assailant pros
trate. He then passed on, but suddenly retracing
his steps towards the prostrate robber, he raised
him from the ground, and dragging him some
paces towards a lamp which cast a dim religious
light over a bright part of the scene, he exclaim
ed—" Ah, ah ! Louis Boncseur 1”
“ Am I discovered I” exclaimed the youth,and
falling at the feet of the other, who again drew
his cloak over the lower part ofhis face, he eja
culated, “ Do not betray me.”
“ Sir,” replied the other, “my duty to the
emperor will compel me to disclose this atro
city.”
*' You will ruin me by so doing, forever. Hear
me, sir—hear my melancholy tale, and then say,
if lam not worthy of your pity. Since I have
had the honor to be in the emperor’s service, the
whole of my salary has been dedicated to the
support of my poor and aged mother. For three
years I have been the sole prop of her weary life;
she has no other hope but me and heaven. I
have brought joy and comfort again into her
humble dwelling ; she was reduced to penury
and wretchedness :my fatherJrad died in insol
vent circumstances ; and my ear mother was
too much aged to work for her subsistence; I en
deavored but in vain to obtain work. Day after
day, I trod the streets of Paris, and with all the
earnestness of ruin, besought—implored employ
ment : but there was no cordial drop iu my cup
of misery, and atlength I sat down in the garden
of the Tuilleiies, hopeless and despairing. I
contemplated suicide ; the thought of leaving my
dear parent desolate, chained me to life,—but
even that thought was becoming overwhelmed
by my despair, when our good emperor passed
me, -he enquired into the truth of my story, and
then in the benevolence of his good heart, took
me into his suite. He saved me from despair,and
brought smiling joy again into the widow’s hum
ble home.”
“ And you have repaid his kindness,” ob
served the stranger, “ by becoming a midnight
robber.”
“ No—no I” hurriedly exclaimed the youth, ‘I
am no common robber. Heaven is my witness,
that until this night—but hear my story out. —
Among the tradesmen who supply the palace
there is one having a daughter, whose charms
made an impression upon my heart, which rea
son cannot dispel. Long did I strive to master
love, but in vain. I struggled against the rising
passion of my heart, but the more I strove to be
master of the bewilderingpassion, the fiercer did
it burn. We met—l told my love—l found it
was returned—and disdaining any concealment,
I openly went to her father; but he in all the
pride and insolence of wealth, spurned my hum
ble suit, and told me till the emperor had made
me worth having, his daughter should not think
of me. Seeing that his child’s inclinations turn
ed towards me, he introduced a wealthy suitor,
and insisted upon her wedding him. I cannot
vie wilh my rival; he lavishes gold and gemsup
the lovely Adeline ; I have only a humble heart
to offer. But that she deemed preferable to all
the wealth of the gross man of her fathers choice
—and this night I have seen her at his side—her
hand in his—her ear turned to his whispering
lips—and the love tributes of gold and gems daz"
zling before her. I was maddened at the sight.
I had clung to the hope that Adeline was con
stant—that hope was my solace by day, and gave
the inspiration to my dreams a night. I fancied the
Emperor might promote me, when I would have
demanded the hand of Adeline in marriage, in
the confidence of being able to support her with
out detriment to the comforts and enjoyments of
my aged mother. This hope is destroyed ;my
dreams are all vanished—and I only saw the des
pairing certainty of Adeline’s affections turning
to my rich rival. Oh, sir, if you have ever loved
—if you have ever known the agony of a situation
like mine, your heart may find some excuse for
me, when I tell you that in my desperation I pur
chased a pistol,and determined upon laying con
tributions upon the public that I might throw
gold and jewels into Adeline’s lap, and rival the
favored one even in his splendor. I saw no other
way of recovering Adeline’s lost affection—!
could not desert my poor mother—the result is as
you see. Will you betray me I”
The pedestrian was silent. The youth with
passionate emotion caught his arm, and exclaim
ed convulsively, “ Will you betray me !” and
again he sunk at his feet.
“ I will think upon it,” said the pedestrian,
coldly. “ Give me that pistol.”
“ No ! cold hearted man I” suddenly starting
upon his feet. “No—nor shall it be yours till
life is out of this wretched body ;” and h« put
the muzzle to his forehead
“ For heaven’s sake, hold 1” cried the stran
ger.
The triger was pulled. The priming flashed in
the pan. The pedestrian then seized upon the
weapon, and, after a slight struggle, wrested it
from the youth’s grasp.
“ Mon dieu 1” cries the pedestrian— “ yoi r
blood boils 1’
“ Go,” rejoined the youth, “ disclose all you
know. lam ready to go out upon the scaffold—
lam tired of life. Death will be welcome.”
“ Then come with me.” Thus saying the
stranget took him fast by the arm and hurried
him through the dark and narrow thoroughfare.
They proceeded along various obscure streets,
until they suddenly stopped before a door way in
a high and extended wall, and the stranger
touching a secret spring, the door flew open, and
they entered the stranger closing the door after
them, in a few minutes they were in a neat and
comfortable apartment, wherein were two ser
vants, who arose on the partiesentering, and the
stranger, taking one of them aside, addressed a
a few words to him, and abruptly left the room.
It was soon evident to him that the servants
had been commanded to preserve a strict silence
—he waa not in the mood of conversation, and
thia was, therefore, to him a matter of more
pleasuse than grief; his spirits were broken.and
he looked upon death aa the only refuge he could
fly to for relief.
Soon after, the servant intimated to the youth
that he was to sleep there, and that his bed was
ready. He followed them, and as he passed out
of the room he perceived that two gens d’armes
had been stationed outside of the door. They
followed him up stairs, and when he was ushered
into a small nairow bedchamber, and the door
was fastened upon him, he heard the heavy tread
of the gens d’armes pacing to and fro on the out
side. Here, in his loneliness, the thought of self
destruction again occurred to him. ‘Oh that I
could die at once !’ he inwardly exclaimed. ’Tis
horrible to be brought out upon a scaffold of pub
lic execution before a gazing million. ‘ Mother!
mother!’ he frantically exclaimed, ‘to the pro
tection of heaven I must leave you ! This world
is done with me lOh I Adeline, this—this is thy
work :’
He searched the anartment with insane curio
sity to discover some instrument of death, but
the room was bare of furniture, save the bed and
its clothes. With the latter he busied himself,
and tearing some of the sheets into strings, he
was fastening them rapidly together, when a man
suddenly entered the room and sat down upon
she bedside. Lauis as suddenly leaped into bed
and the man remaining in the position he had ta
ken up, the youth insensibly fell into a deep
slnmber, wherein he remained through the
night.
It was mid-day when he awoke. The man
was still in his chamber. Louis was calm and
refreshed, and when the man asked him if he
would arise and accompany him to the gentle
man with whom he had become acquainted on
the previous night, Louis cheerfully assented.
Soon after, Louis stood again in the presence of
the cloaked man whose life he had threatened.
It was a dark antique chamber, and the gentle
man had taken his place in a recess, in the depth
of which his person was dimly visible. Louis
entered pale and trembling, and with downcast
tearful eyes he approached the man whom he had
in his moment ot frenzy, assailed. A chair was
pointed out to him, into which he fell and buried
his face in his hands.
“Young man,” said the stranger, “you show a
becoming sorrow; but what of it 1 Suppose you
hid sent a bullet through my head last night,would
your penitence awaken me to life again! Yours
is the old story. Every villian is a penitent
when the guillotine stares him in the face."
“O, sir! spare me—spare me, I implore,”
cried the youth.
“Why should 11 You should have thought of
the consequences of the crime you meditated.
But you were headstrong—a fool—and must suf
fer for your folly.”
“ Sir, 1 am ready to meet my punishment. Do
not aggravate it by reproof.”
“I will; it is a satisfaction that is due to me.
I would show you the extent of your folly and
your crime. I have made inquiries respecting
your story; but mon Dieu I you were a fool. You
adventured with me. I would be revenged for
the outrage of last night, and am revenged in
telling you, imprisoned as you now are, and in
the fairway to the scaffold, that your conclusion
respecting your mistress, was a false one.”
“False!” echoed the youth.
“Ay, hot brained boy, false I Your rival,
pleased with your devotion, and your attention
to your poor mother, had even plead for you
with Adeline’s father. He succeeded ; the old
man has even given his consent to your marriage
with his daughter, to your rival I—the man who
you saw whispering in the ear of Adeline—and
bestowed upon you a marriage portion of five
thousand francs. What think you now, rash
boy 1”
“Heaven!” exclaimed the distracted youth,
“ it is impossible >”
“Not so; you shall hear the story from the
girl’s own lips; for justice allows one more
meeting. Fine love yours truly, to doubt a love
ly girl who has been constant to you for many
months, and resisted parent’s frowns and rival’s
gold, merely because you saw something which
your jealous imagination has tortured into a
crime.”
“Oh, forbear! for Heaven’s sake forbear!”
cried the youth. “If you would not see me fall
dead at your feet, forbear I”
“You would have laid me dead at yours last
night,” rejoined the stranger. “How can you
ask for mercy!”
“ Iknewnotwhatldid—love, despair, a friend
less aged parent, all—all presented themselves
to me. I was distracted I I was mad I You
know not—you cannot judge of my feelings then
—pray spare them now.”
“ Ah, there’s your mother too; when the guil
lotine had done its office, she would be left to
starve and die—”
“ Oh, no; the Emperor Napoleon is the father
of all his people, and he will not let the desolate
widow perish.”
“Hum!” responded the stranger; “ I believe
you may make yourself happy on that score;
the Emperor will protect her. Are you prepared
to take your trial!”
“ I am ”
“ Are you prepared to meet the girl you love !
To hear from her own lips the story of her inno
cence, and the generosity of him you hated.”
An inward struggle was evident in the looks of
Louis, but after a pause, he faltered “ I am.”
“’Tis well,” replied the other. “Be firm,
young man; the scene that is about to ensue is
no common one. You will look upon the face of
Adeline as you never looked upon it before.
You will take her hand, not as the poor and
humble but innocent lover. She will not mingle
her tears with yours over the story of .your pov
erty and constant worship. Yours will not be
the language of passionate hope, nor hers of en
couragement and expectation. You have severed
the gordian knot of your fate, and must endure
the issue. Come—she is ready.”
With these words, solemnly delivered, the
stranger pushed open a door and beckoning to
the youth to follow him, they entered a dark
and narrow passage, at the end of which was a
door.
They paused.
“She is within this room,” remarked the
stranger.
“ Oh, heaven support me I” murmured the
youth.
“ Give me your hand,” replied the other, and
as he took the youth’s hand within hie, he ex
claimed, “ be not craven Louis, at a moment like
thie, for the honor of manhood I” And at that
instant the doors were thrown open suddenly.
The blaze of the light which illuminated the
apartment into which they entered, dazzled the
eyes of youth; for it was so different from the
gloom and obscurity of the chambers and pass
ages they had previously been in. The stranger
hurried him along to the top of the apartment. A
warm hand was then placed within his, a wo
man’s face was buried in his bosom. It was
Adeline.
They stood before the nuptial altar! They
were not alone. The father of Adeline and the
rival of Louis were there ; the minister was at
the altar, and beside the entranced pair stood
the stranger, gazing with delight upon their
ecstacy. Louis gazed upon the strange scene be
fore him in wonder and apprehension.
His eyes wandered from one to another; but
they rested upon the stranger, who looked upon
the scene with a smile. Upon him the eyes of
Louis rested, and the stranger, perceiving his
amazement, gradually, allowed the cloak to fall
from his person, and Louis involuntarily dropped
upon his knee, as he beheld in the person of the
stranger, his sovereign, Napoleon, Emperor of
France!
“Louis!” exclaimed the Emperor, “you have
said the Emperor is the father of his people. Is
your father’s mode of punishing the hot brained
folly of his sun, satisfactory !”
“My sovereign I” cried Louis, “ I may not—
cannot speak—”
“ You must, Louie,” continued the Emperor,
“ for I have given my word that Adeline shall
become a bride this day; and you must fulfil my
promise. Come boy, no tears ; your punishment
was ended when you left the dark chamber; the
reward of virtue now commences. The Emperor
Napoleon will not desert young Frenchmen
who gild the declining days of aged parents with
filial love, and scatter joy upon their grey hairs.
Now let the service begin.”
The ceremony was performed: Adeline be"
came the bride of her beloved, and the Emperor
Napoleon was the constant friend of the widow’s
son.
Flogging —A late English writer, in enume
rating he modes of punishment in China, says:
The grand panacea, however after all, in the
instrument of administration is by no means con
fined to China, but embraces without exception
eyery country of the East, from Japan to Bengal,
including about five hundred millions of people,
or more than half the human race. There the
rod, under its various appellations of bamboo
cane, cudgel, or birch, is actively at work from
morning till night. The grand patriarch canes
his first minister ; the prime minister canes his
secretary of state ; he admonishes the lords of
the treasury by belaboring their backs ; these en
force their orders to the first lords of the admi
ralty by applying what is|equal to cat o’nine-tailes.
Generals cane field officers, and field officers the
captains and subalterns. Of course, the common
soldiers of the celestial army are caned at libitum
by every body. Then husbands cane their wives
and the wives their children In short, China
m»Y be truly described as a well flogged nation.
21 .fortunate 2Uucntitrr
Or a Moment’s Mistake.
A poor comedian who had filled all the parts in
a prominent theatres, from the buskined hero to
the penniless footman, found himself, alter twen
ty five years absence, driven to Paris to find em
ployment in his declining years.
Some one had given him a letter of recommen
dation to the theatre for vaudevilles at Paris,and
he was seeking it with the modest view of find
ing employment in some third or fourth rate class
of characters, and with very humble pretentions
as to salary. Having inquired the way thither,
he was told he would find it at the bottom of the
street, pointing out to him the rue Vivienne. At
the end ot the street, in the place indicated, the
comedian stopped, astonished, before a magnifi
cent structure.
“ What a splendid theatre!” thought he. Alas,
too fine forme. Doubtless they demand talents
here proportioned to this magnificent structure —
and I, poor fellow, shall probably meet with a
contemptuous repulse.’
The poor man had mistaken the Bourse forthe
Vaudeville. The imposing aspect of the build
ing, with its forest of columns, frightened him,
and he scarcely felt the power of performing even
the wretched parts he had at first aspired to. —
However, he mechanically advanced, and at the
entrance whom should he meet but a former
companion in the orchestra of the Bordeaux
Theatre.
“ Ah, is that you 1” exclaimed the Bordelas,
grasping his hand with warmth.
“ Yes indeed,” replied the comedian, inno
cently.
“ And what are you doing here 1”
“ 1 have come to try my fortune !”
“ Take care—this is a dangerous place—take
my word for it. Do not venture here, but seek
somewhere else a fortune less sudden but more
sure.”
“ I was just thinking so myself 1 The country
with a moderate income, would be just to my
taste.”
“ And then you could not but succeed; for you
have talent; and the public of Bordeaux have gi
ven you the stamp of their approbation. Do you
remember how they used to applaud you ? that
people so full of spirit and enthusiasm ?”
“ Ah ! that was in my palmy days ; it is now
seven years since that time. I was then in my
full strength, and I allow that I did well enough
in comedy ; and in the character of financier, I
san say without vanity, that I was not surpassed.
Indeed, I am still the most skilful, the most per
fect financier that has ever appeared at Bor
deaux.”
While the old player was thus making his own
eulogy with all the candor and sincerity of a real
artist, his companion was accosted by a broker,
who announced something important to him.—
The Bordelais immediately took leave of his
friend, the player.
“ Adieu !” said he, “ business compels me to
leave ; but if you should need assistance in any
operation, here is a gentleman who will attend
to your business effectually.”
Then addressing the broker, he added—
“l recommend this gentlemanto you as a man
of talent, and the most skilful and accomplished
financier in Bordeaux.”
And, after thus repeating, in haste, almost the
words of the comedian, he withdrew. The bro
ker, thinking from the title financier that he was
addressing a rich speculator, bowed respectfully,
and said—
“ Sir, 1 am happy to offer you my services.”
“ It is I who shall be obliged, sir,” replied the
player.
If you please to accept me as your intermedia
tory, I hope you will find reason to be satisfied.”
“ Monsieur is agent ?”
The comedian meant, dramatic agent, the bro
ker, agent tn stocks, so the conversation continu
ed with a mistake on both sides.
“ Agent 1 not exactly, I am a broker.”
“ No matter ; it amounts to the same thing.”
“ True ! Do you wish to act, then I”
“ That is my great desire.”
“ Very well 1 I think I can direct you success
fully. lam perfectly acquainted with the state
of affairs, and I have some influence at the
board ”
“ I have no doubt of it, sir, you have my en
tire confidence, and I trust all my hopes of suc
cess to you.”
“ The present movement is very decided.
Funds are now very low.”
“Alas! yes! low enough. Most business
operations are brought to a stop.”
“ It is necessary, then, to base our proceedings
upon this state of things.”
“ Yes, indeed, we must proceed accordingly.”
“ You have already lost, I suppose, by the
downward movement ?' Well, it is not surprising
—the most skilful have suffered by it; but you
will regain.”
“ I hope it may be so. At present, however, I
can do nothing.”
“So much the better. We shall be sure to act
according to circumstances. Have your views
taken any particular direction? I am inclined to
think the North affords the best chance. Does
the North suit you ?”
“Perfectly. I have already acted therewith
some success.”
“ Well, we will operate on the North then.
How much shall we say ; on what figure shall we
fix?”
“ Ah ! that’s the difficulty.”
“Twothousand dollars. Would two thousand
answer ?”
“ Yes, indeed; two thousand is quite enough.”
While the broker was putting down in his me
morandum book two thousand in the Northern
Line, to sell on his client’s account, the come
dian was saying to himself, “A good engage
ment, indeed! the Northern Department, the
theatre of Lille, and two thousand francs salary!
I could not have hoped better !”
The broker continued, “we have still Lyons
and Strasbourg that offer some chances. Would
you like to try there ?”
“Oh! withall my heart. If we do not suc
ceed on one side we can turn to the other. We
should always have more than one string to our
bow.”
“ I shall set you down then for Lyons and
Strasbourg. Say a thousand again each ?”
“ Yes, let us stick to that figure ?”
“ Shall you remain long at Paris?”
“I should like to leave as soon as possible.”
“You would like to realize soon, then ?”
“ I acknowledge, I should.”
“Not a monthly settlement, then, but cash
down.”
“ That’s the thing! let it be cash down ! (A
wonderful man this, truly!”)
“ Well, now that it is settled, I will leave you
to attend to the business, unlessyou prefer to ac
company me.”
“There is no need of that; I should prefer
taking a walk.”
“Very well; you will find me here at three
o’clock, or rather I will do myself the honor of
calling upon you.”
“ Oh, by no means! It is I that will have the
honor of calling upon you, to see the result.”
“And we will settle it all at the interview.
Here is my card. Adieu, till we meet again.”
A very natural anxiety brought him back to the
house at about the prescribed hour. There he
met again his first Bordeaux acquaintance.
“What! Here again! Well—l see you are
really a speculator.”
“I ! not at all! lam the most fortunate fellow
in the world —I am soon to have an engagement
for which I shall be indebted to you.”
“ Indeed.”
“ Yes ; a first rate engagement either at Lille,
Lyons, or Strasbourg, with a salary of two thou
sand francs. Oh, how mach lam obliged to you
for introducing me to this agent. His knowledge
of affairs is wonderful, and seems sure of his
plans.”
“ My dear sir, whom can you be speaking of.”
“Why, of the gentleman you introduced to me
a short time ago in this very place.”
“ But you speak of a theatrical agent—and
this gentleman is a broker, who deals in railroad
stocks.”
“ Come, come! you are joking, we talked
about theatres and engagements more than
twenty minutes.”
The other, on making him repeat the conver-
sation, word for word—soon understood thejmis
take.
“Well, my dear sir, you are much more fortu
nate even than you anticipated. The broker has
understood, literally, the financial character I
spoke of, and he has made a large operation in
stocks for you.”
“An operation for me—who have not a sous'”
“ Oh, that is often done here. You are not the
only one who speculates without money. Credit
is all that is necessary—and that my recommen
dation gave you.”
“ But I may lose.”
“Do not be alarmed, funds were down —and
you have gained. Nobody is wronged. This is
done here daily. So receive the good fortune
Providence has sent you.”
The player and his friend repaired to the bro
ker’s office, who presented him an account
showing a balance in his favor of twenty-five
thousand francs.
“To-morrow, sir,” said the broker, “ I shall
be happy to receive your orders again, for, I pre
sume you mean to pursue this good fortune.”
“ No, indeed ! I have no wish to abuse for
tuno'» i'aTuio. I will stop al tills.”
Twenty-five thousand francs gave him a life
annuity of one hundred louis, a sum generally be
yond his most ambitious dreams. A moment’s
mistake had done more for him than years of
hard labor.
iiliscellaniJ.
Sketch of Ben Johnson.—Johnson on the 6th
of August, 1637, died at the age of sixty three.—
He survived both his wife and his children. He
was buried in Westminster Abbey. A common
pavement stone, laid over hie grave, beats the
inscription, “ O Rare Ben Johnson (not Jon
son, as it is always printed), a phrase whichhas
passed into the current speech of England.
Jonson drenched his large and heavy brain
freely with stimulants. It was said that every
line of his poetry cost him a cup of sack. “He
would,” according to Aubrey, many times ex
ceed in drink ; Canary was his beloved liquor ;
then he would tumble home to bed, and when he
had thoroughly perspired, he would then go to
study.” In the bacchanalian phraseology of that
day, he was called a Canary bird. He is said to
have weighed twenty stone. Barry Cornwall
has the courageous gracelessness to commend
Ben’s festivities, saying that “ the Muses should
be fed generously—that good meats and sound
wines, nourish and invigorate the brain, and ena
ble the imagination to send forth spirited and
sounding strains.” In Jonson’s case we imagine
wine was necessary to set the huge substance ot
his brain motion. Charles the First probably un
derstood the poet’s wants, when he added the
tierce of Canary wine to his yearly stipend of
£IOO, aspoete laureate. Habits of hard drinking
were common in those days.
With the exception of this too potent convivia
ity, and bating some inherent faults of character
Jonson seems to have been one of the best men
of his time. He was honest and honorable. He
had a hearty hatred of meanness and baseness,
and shot his sharp invective at the crimes and
follies of his day with commendable courage.—
More than most of his contemporaries, he esti
mated the dignity of the poet’s vocation. In the
dedication of Volpone he feelingly alludes to the
bad reputation into which his order had fallen :
and in the midst of such pedantry and arrogance
we see a true love for his art. He anticipates
Milton in asserting “ the impossibility of any
man’s being the good poet, without first being a
good man.” With terrible craft he lashes those
of his craft who have betrayed the good cause
by ribaldry and profaneness, and also declaims
against the depravity of the age which supports
them in their sins. But that all the poets are em
barked “on this bold adventure to hell,” he calls
a malicious slander, and to show his own inno
cence, pounces on those “ miscelline interludes”
where he says, “ nothing but the filth of the
time is uttered, and with such impropriety of
phrase, such plenty of solecisms, such dearth of
sense, so bold prolepses, so racked metaphors,
with brothelry able to violate the ear of a pagan,
and blasphemy to turn the blood of a Christian to
water.” He laments, that,through the insolence
of these writers, the name of poet, once so hono
rable, has become “ the lowest scorne of the
age” ; and in a sentence worthy of Milton, as
serts, that, if the Muses be true to him, he will
“raise the despised head of poetry again, and
stripping her out of those rotten and base rags
wherewith the times have adulterated her form,
restore her to her primitive habit, feature and
majesty, and render her worthy to be embraced
and kissed of all the great and master spiri s of
the world.” These are brave and bright words,
and show deep feeling. His works display in a
hundred places, a similar spirit. He rails at the
age continually for its degeneracy and wicked
ness ; and takes the strong ground, that the
“ principal end of poesie is to inform men in the
best reason of living.” Jonson really scorned
the office of panderier to depraved tastes.
It would be impossible to point out a class of
authors, who have appeared in any of the Au
gusta ages of letters, more essentially brave and
strong,—any who have spoken the language of
thought and passion more directly from the heart
and brain,—any who more despised obtaining
fame and producing effects by an elaborate re
finements and pretty brilliancies, any who have
stouter muscle and bone. Whenever English li.
terature has been timid and creeping, whenever
the natural expression of emotion has been de
based by a feeblq or feverish “ poetic diction,”
it has been to the old dramatists th at men have
recurred for examples of a more courageous spi
rit and a nobler style.
The Magnetic Needle.—The attractive power
exerted by the loadstone over iron, appears to
have been known in times of very remote anti
quity. It is mentioned by Homer, Pythagoras,
Aristotle, Eur ipides, and Pliny. The latter au
thor, indeed, seems further to have been ac
quainted with the production of induction, or
the power possessed by the loadstone of commu
nicating its virtue to iron placed in its immediate
vicinity; for he mentions the fact that an iron
ring, supported by a loadstone, will in its turn
sustain the weight of another. But although it
thus appears clear that these two phenomena
were known, yet its directive power or polarity
shat is to say, its property of pointing north and
south, seems to belong to a later date. True, it
is generally asserted that the Chinese were ac
quainted with, and took advantage of, this di
rective power from a very early period. In a work
entitled, “General History of China,” by P. Du
halde, the following passage occurs. Speaking
of some ambassadors, the author says :
“ After they had their audience of leave in or
der to return to their own country,Tcheon-Kong
gave them an instrument, which on one side
pointed to the north, and the opposite side to
the south, to direct them better on their way
home, than they had been directed in coming to
China. The instrument was called Tchi-Nan,
which is the same as the Chinese now give to
the sea compass : and this has given occasion to
think that Tcheon-Kong was the inventor of the
compass. This happened in the 220 d cycle,
more than one thousand and forty years before
the Christian era.
In further support of this association, Dr. Gil
bert asserts that Paulus Venetus brought the
compass to Italy from China, in the year 1260
But, unfortunately for this assertion, it is clear
from many authors that the compass was in use
in Europe in the twelfth century. Cardinal
James de Vitri, who flourished about the year
1200, mentions the magnetic needle in his “ His
tory of Jerusalem,” and he adds, that it was of
indispensable utility to those who travel by sea.
In an old French poem, entitled, ‘La Bible Guoit’
still extant in the Royal Library at Paris, allu
sion is evidently made to the magnetic needle—
Jts author was Guiot de Provence, who lived at
the latter part of the twelth century. The pas
sage is so remarkable, that we are tempted to
subjoin a translation :
“ This (the pole) star does not move, and they
(the mariners) have an art which cannot fail by
virtue of the magnet—an ugly, brownish stone,
to which iron adheres ofits own accord. They
look to the right point, and when they have
! pouched a needle, and fixed it on a bit of straw
' lengthwise, exactly in the middle, the straw
keeping it up, the point turns straight and uner-
PRICE THREE CENTS.
ringly towards the star. When the night is so
dark and gloomy that you can neither see star
nor moon, they bring a light to the needle : may
they not then assure themselves of the situation
of the star by the direction of the point ? Thus
the mariner is enabled to keep the proper course.
It is an art which cannot deceive-’
We think there can be no question, from the
whole of this singular passage, that the compass
is clearly referred to.”
A Sure Charge.—The following extracted by
the Boston Transcript from one of its southern
papers, is quite an apposite hint to ‘examine your
bills:’
A merchant of Mississippi during a day’s bu
siness in which he had been crowded with cus
mert, sold a saddle of the value of forty dollars,
but had neglected to make the charge. Next day
he missed the saddle and recollected the fact of
the sale, but not the individual who had bought
it. After racking his memory for some time to
no purpose, ,he directed his clerk ‘ Jim’ to turn to
his ledger alphabet and read off the W’s.thenthe
S’s, the B’s and the C’s, and other letters tn suc
vessto.. ■ a” • «o purpose.
Tired out with the mental exercise, and as the
readiest way of settling the difficulty, ‘ Jim’ said
he, ‘‘ charge asaddle to every one of the custo
mers.” This was accordingly done. When the
planters had got their cotton in, and settling time
came round, the bills were presented, and if oc
easionally one man more prudent than his neigh
bors, went through the drudgery of examining a
long list of sundries got off by different members
of the family, he might possibly discover a sad
dle which they had not got, or one more than
they had got, and objecting to the item, it would
be struck out of course, alleging there was some
mistake.
When all the accounts had been settled up,
“ Well, Jim,” said the storekeeper, “ how many
customers paid you for that saddle ?” Jim exa
mined and reported thirty one. ‘ Litt’e enough,’
exclaimed his employer for the trouble we’ve had
to find out who got it.”
Gkn. Taylor and the Volunteer—Our friend
Capt Church, of the Bullitine, on hislate trip .up
from New Orleans, brought with him a number
of officers just from the army. They were full
of anecdote, of course, and the following little
illustration of character is interesting as well as
amusing.
Among the volunteers was a‘gentleman’s son’
—a full private, who, hsartily sick of rainy wea
ther, mud and no shelter, first went to his cap
tain with Ins complaints, but meeting with no
particular sympathy’, resolved to have a talk with
Gen. Taylor himself. Arrived at the command,
er’s quarters, the General was pointed out to him
but he was rather incredulous. That old fel
low General Taylor? Nonsense!’ Satisfied
howevir that such was even the case, he marched
up, and rather patronizingly .opened the business
“ Gen Taylor, I believe ?”
“ Yes, sir. ”
“ Well, General, I’m devilish glad to see you
—am, indeed ! ” The general returned the civi
lity. “General, you’ll excuse me, but since I’ve
been here I’ve been doing all I eould for you—
have, indeed; but the fact is the accommodations
are very bad—are, indeed ; mud, sir! actually
mud ! ’ bleeged to lie down in it, actually ; and
the fact is I’m a gentleman's son, and not used
to it!
The Geneal, no doubt deeply impressed with
the fact ofhaving a gentleman's son inhis army,
expressed his regret that such annoyances should
ever exist, under any circumstances, in a civi
lized army.
“ Well—but, General, what am I to do ?”
“Why,really, I don’t know, unless you take
my place.”
“ Well, now’ that’s civil—’ tis, indeed. Of
course don’t mean to turn you out, but a few
hours sleep—a cot, or a bunk, or anything—
would be so refreshing! Your place where is it,
General ?
“ Oh just drop down— anywhere about here— any
place about camp will answer'
The look which the “ gentleman’s son ” gave
the General was rather peculiar.
“ Well, no wonder they call you ‘ Rough and
Ready!’ said he; and amid the smiles of all but
“ Rough and Ready” himslf, the “ gentleman’s
son ” returned to take his chance of the weather.
—Reveille.
The Best Medicine.—Frequent bathing— not
once or twice a month,but every day if you please
in warm or cold water—is one of the greatest
medicines in the world, It will make one more
hearty and free from disease than a cart load of
medicine could. The Boston Reformer says
with reference to the subject that from one to five
pouuds of decayed animal matter pass off daily
by insensible perspiration from the human body.
The white dust which collects on the skin some
times called good fl sh, is refused matter of the
system. Viewed with a microscope, it looks like
a butchers cart of putrid meat, if the pores of the
skin are close, and impreceptible perspiration is
stopped, this corrupt matter is thrown upon the
lungs, liver, or imestines, causing cold,consump
tion, fever, &c. The remedy is found in the spe
cefic that will restore the system to its proper ba
lance, open the natural avenues for the discharge
of poisonous secretions, and relieve the infernal
organs from burdensome clogs that are thrown
upon them. Cold water has been proved to be
the best remedy. And nothing but its simplicity,
its commonness, and the almost universal hydro
phobia which prevails, could have kept its vir
tues so long concealed.
The Fall of Rome.—“ The Rise and Fall of
the Roman empire is by far the most remarkable
and memorable event which has occurred in the
whole history of mankind. It is hard to say whe
ther the Rise or the Fall is.most worthy of pro
found study and anxious examination. The for
mer has hitherto most strongly attracted the at
tention of men, from the extraordinary spectacle
it exhibitedjjof human fortitude triumphing over
every obstacle,and human perseverenceat length
attaining universal dominion. It was the spec
tacle most likely to rivet the attention of stren
uous and growing nations—of men in that stage
of existence when national ambition is strong
and the patriotic passions ardent, and the selfish,
interests have not yet become so powerful as to
have generally extinguished the generous affec
tions. But it may be doubted whether the events
that occurred in the latter stages of the Roman
empire are not fraught with more valuable and
important informationthan those of its earliest
annals. Less interesting to the soldier, less ani
mating to the citizen, less heart stirring to the
student, they are more instructive to the philo
sopher,more piegnant with warning to the states
man. They contain the only instance yet exhi
bited among men of a nation sinking from no ex
ternal shock, but from the mere influence of in
ternal decay ; and point alone, of all passages in
the annals of the species, to the provision made
by nature, in the passions and selfishness of men
against the possibility of universal dominion.”
Gold Printed Muslins.—Amongst the nume
rous successes in the decorative art with which
the year 1845 has beensignalized, “ we must no
tice ,” says an English journal, “ a very beauti
ful muslin fabric, for curtains, printed in gold by
agalyanic process, and patented by Messrs Vale
& Co., of Manchester. This new system of
Gold printing is intended to supersede the more
expensive mode of embroidering fabrics with
gold and silver for window curtains and other
drapery. It is peculiarly adapted for long draw
ing-room curtains. The designs ’are chaste and
classical; the brilliancy of gold printing is rather
heightened than impaired by washing, so that
the fabric is as economical as it is elegant.”
This style of curtain muslin of course has been
designed to be in keeping with the rage for gild
ed mouldings as cornices for rooms, and elabo
rate ornamental mirror frames, which are now
so fashionable.
It is odd, isn’t it to see a public writer abuse
mercilessly a contemporary, and when paid back
in his own coin—dirt for dirt, blackguardism
for blackguardism—threaten a libel suit. And
yet the thing has been done recently.
A Dutchman, speaking of the avaritious propen
sities of one of his fellow workmen, said—“He
ish so mean dat in de wedder wot ish so cold as it
never vos. he never vears drawer nor oonder
shirts, but goes barefooted in his boots.

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