Sunday dispatch. [volume], May 16, 1847, Image 4

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

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
three WEEKS AFTER MA.R:RIAX>£-
by T. II BAYLEY.
I don’t care three and sixpence now
For any thing in life;
My days of fun are oyer now,
I’m married to a wife—
I’m married to a wife, my boys,
And that by Jove’s no joke.
I’ve eat the white of this wolrd s egg„
And now I’ve got the yolk.
I’m sick of sending marriage cake,
Of eating marriage dinners,
And all the. fuss that people make
With new,; wed beginners;
I care not for ufiite champaigne,
I never cared hr red,
Blue coats are all due bores to me.
And Limerick glows are kid:.
And as for posting up abffdown,
It adds to all my ills, \
At every paltry country town,
I wish you saw the bills,
They knoty me for a married man,
Their smirking says they dio-t
And charge me as the Scotch Sreys charged
The French at Waterloo.
I’ve grown' to quite an idle rogue;.
I only eat and drink;
Reading with me is not a vogue,
I can’t be plagued to think:
When breakfast’s over I begin
To wish ’twere dinner time,
And these are all the changes now
In my life’s pantomime.
I wonder if this state be what
Folks call the honey-moon I
If so upon my word I hope
It will be over soon;
For too much honey is to me
Much worse than too much salt j
I’d rather read from end to end,
The works of Mr. Galt.
O! when I was a bachelor
I was as brisk’s a bee,
But now I he on ottomans,
And languidly sip tea,
Or read a little paragraph
In any evening paper
Then think it time to go to sleep,
And light my bedroom taper.
O 1 when I was a bachelor
I always had some.plan
To win myself a loving wife,
And be a married man ;
And now that I am so at last,
My plans are at an end,
I scarcely know one thing to do,
My time I cannot spend.
O! when I was a bachelor
My spirits never flagg’d,
I walked as if a pair of wings
Had to my feet been tagg’d;
But I walk much more slowly now,
As married people should,
Were I to walk six miles an hour
My wife might think it rude.
Yet after all I must confess
This easy sort of way
Of getting o’er life’s jolting road,
Is what I can’t gainsay;
I might have been a bachelor
Until my dying day,
Which would have been to err at least
As far the other way.
[Original.]
BY THE AUTHOR OF " THE SISTER-IN-LAW.”
[Copyright secured according to Law.]
CHAPTER V.
Matters went on swimmingly for a short time
—my visits were continued daily at Mrs. Mer
ton’s, and I grew so deeply interested in her, I
was almost ready to wish that her husband and
his vessel might go to Davy Jones’ locker to
gether, but when I remembered the innocent
frankness with which she received me, and the
very sincere cordiality of her welcome upon all
occasions, I felt that such thoughts were un
worthy as well of myself as of her own pure
and spotless character, and I grew heartily
ashamed of them.
Since the narrative of black Minty; and the
sickness of James, my manner when with her
had undergone a great change—l could not feel
sad in her presence, for I felt that a day of
brightness was dawning for her, and at times
she seemed without knowing why, to catch an
inspiration from me, and her countenance
would light up with a bright and joyous smile,
which would have made her fathers heart leap
within him.
In order to banish any shade of suspicion if
perchance Mrs. Simmons should imbibe any, as
to’the true nature of my intercourse with Mrs.
Merton, I was a more frequent visiter than
ever at the house of her husband, and paid so
much attention to Jane, I began to see that I
was looked upon as a suitor for her hand, and
was treated with the the most marked courtesy
by all, not forgetting Mr. Barton.
' I felt sure that with James, my plan must
succeed, but Martha was a stumbling block,
and I had commenced racking my brains for
some mode of getting the truth from her.
Minty’s narrative alone, would have answered
my ends, but I was determined to conclude the
affair by a coup de main, and accordingly re
solved to take no definite step until every thing
was in perfect readiness, when failure would
be impossible.
Every thing liuwo-r<>x- 4'o.ll’rit tliiXiUgD
by reason of my accidental meeting one day at
the bed-side of the sick man Mrs. Simmons,
whose sudden and unexpected entrance had
nearly thrown me off my guard.
Giving James however, a look which he inter
preted rightly, I began to accuse her of insin
cerity in her professions of friendship for me, in
asmuch as she had neglected to afford me the
opportunity of serving her, by attending pro
fessionally on one in whom she was measurably
interested.
“ Oh no,” she replied gaily, “ so far from that,
I think I have the rather exhibited my friend
ship in not summoning you, as your services
must have been rendered gratuitously.”
“ I am sorry you think me so wanting in
feelings of humanity,” I said, glad, to change
the current of her thoughts—“l hope Miss
Jane has not imbibed any of your sentiments, in
this particular.”
“ Come, come Doctor, no nonsense. How do
you find Jamesshe added in a whisper.
“ Oh, he will do well enough I replied, in
the same tone,” fully resolving at the moment,
that I would finish "the business with him at
once, if possible.
“ But how did you find James out!” she
asked, with a searching glance, which I met
unflinchingly.
“ Very easily explained,” was my reply, “ a
friend of mine whom you sent for, and who had
not time to visit him as often as he wished,
committed him partially to my charge. I hope
you are satisfied with what we have done.”
“ Perfectly—l feel that he is safe in your
hands,” she replied.
“ Thanking you for the compliment,” I said,
with a bow, “ I am incited to double exertions
by the remembrance that you are interested in
his welfare.”
A few minutes more of conversation carried
on in a similar strain effectually disarmed her
of any suspicion which my presence at the
bedside of James might have excited, and she
left the house, first exacting a promise that I
would take tea with them that evening.
Very soon after her departure, and most for
tunately for my plans, Dr. D. came in, and
hurriedly whispering my designs to him, I
turned aside to the window, while he approach
ed the patient,
“ Why James,” he said, with a very serious
countenance after feeling his pulse, “ have you
been eating anything which I forbade ?”
“ No sir,” he replied, trembling and turning
pale.
“ Are you very sure ? now don’t deceive me,
or it may be the worse for you,” he added with
great earnestness.
“ Indeed sir, I have not.”
“ Doctor,” he said to me, and crossed over to
the window where I had stationed myself,
where we carried on a whispered conversation
for some minutes, in which I detailed at length,
my designs, while James who thought we were
in consultation, and whose fears were aroused
by my friend’s solemn manner, was watching
us with trembling solicitude.
Feeling assured that the patient was thorough
ly alarmed, for I had caught a sly glance at his
countenance as he lay watching us, I crossed
over to the bed, and addressed him in solemn
tones.
“ Your case James, is assuming a critical
aspect, and it will require the utmost caution
to raise you at all —mind I do not say there is
immediate danger,” I interposed, seeing him
actually gasp for breath, “ but you are very ill.”
“Oh Doctor,” he exclaimed, clasping his
hands with energy, “ do save me—do save me—
I know you can.”
“ We will do all we can,” replied my friend,
“ but you must not suffer yourself to be excited.
Now James, if there is any thing on your mind
which distresses you, you should relieve your
self at once, for nothing will so surely ensure
your recovery as a mind perfectly free from
care. Indeed you must be peaceful, and place im
plicit confidence in us, or we cannot promise
what the end may be.”
James listened to this advice wildly, gazing
alternately at each of us, and we both saw that
he was debating with himself whether to make
a clean breast of it or not. Fearing that he
might suspect our motives, I determined to
attack him boldly, and said, “ now James J
know of one thing which must I am sure dis
tress you. Mrs. Merton,” and as I uttered the
name he started and a flush crossed his face,
“ has told me all of the infamous plot laid to
ruin her. I know that you were induced to
lend your aid to that plot, and surely you could
not leave the world in peace with such a crime
unrepented and unconfessed. Surely she never
injured you James.”
“ Tears started to the fellow’s eyes as I spoke,
and hastily dashing them away, he said, “ she
never did—she was good and kind and a sweet
woman—l know it was very wrong—very
wicked in me, and I have often repented of it.”
“ Now James,” I said, “ don’t you think it
your duty to make a confession of that plot,
you know how falsely you spoke of her, and it
is due to her that you should tell the truth, as
that is the only reparation you can make.”
Oh, I dare not,” he half muttered, actually
groaning. J
' “ I know you are afraid of Mrs. Simmons,
Ja roes, but you have no cause. She is a bad
woman, and I know enough to ruin her forever;
so do not fear that she will ever put a straw
in your way, and at every hazard I will stand
by you.”
“’You will cure me won’t you,” he said
eagerly.
. “We will do our best James, but you must
not be low spirited—you must not fancy your
self dying because we said you were seriously
■in we thought it our duty to say so, least yon
i should carelessly neglect any of our injunctions
and thus render your recovery improbable —I
tell you again there is no immediate danger,
and with proper caution you -will recover.”
A few minutes more of persuasion, entreaty
and a few threats sufficed to settle the question
! and James at length consented tomake a full and
’ free disclosure of the part he had been induced
i to play in the infamous transaction.
He had, as you have no doubt anticipated,
been bribed by Mrs. Simmons to tell the story
of Miss Anna’s guilt, and Martha was induced
to join with him by the same means. Of
course every thing he had said was vilely false,
I and I krjow not when I have experienced more
exquisite pleasure than in affixing my name
I with that of my friend to his confession, which
Doctor took down in writing, for it ensur-
ed a complete triumph for my abused and in
jured friend Mrs. Merton.
Leaving with him some harmless medicine,
we took our leave, giving the most stringent
injunctions as to the manner in which every
thing was to be done for him during our
absence.
“ Now Frank,” said my friend to me, as we
left the house, “ whet is your next plan ? ’
“ First of all let me thank you for your aid,
for without you, Heaven knows how I could
ever have accomplished thus much —I am now
going to Mrs. Merton’s to show this paper to
her, and to tell her what we heard from Minty,
will you go witl me ?”
“No I had letter not now; at some future
time my presence may be necessary, and it will
appear better if I have never seen her at all.”
“ You are right,” I replied, “ now good day
—I will meet you at James’ to-morrow.”
“ No you won’t—you will take tea with me,
for I want to hear how she receives your intelli
gence.”
“ Well, so be it,” and we parted.
I hurried at once to Mrs. Merton’s, who was
busy sewing, and who looked really so happy,
it seemed as if she had surmised all the good
news I was bringing—or perhaps in my own
countenance she read joyful intelligence.
“ Well Doctor,” she said, after the usual
salutations of the day, and after Master George
had climbed into his accustomed position on
my knees, for he had already learned that
“ you look happy, and I feel happy. I don’t
know why it is, or how it is, but for two or
three days my heart has been unaccountably
light. Who knows but my dear husband is
near home, and it is the prescience of that
which animates me.”
“ Who knows indeed,” was my reply. But I
have something to communicate which I think
will warrant all your present happiness.”
“ Oh, has my dear father repented of his
cruelty ? has he sent you to take me home
again !”
“ No, he not Mrs. Merton —but before two
weeks elapse you will be in your father’s house,
and will hold the same place in his affections
you did of old.”
“.God grant it,” she said with a sigh, her
whole countenance changing, and now indica
ting doubt and gloomy apprehension.
“ Come, come, no such looks as that if you
please, to me—please to read that,” and I hand
’ed to her the confession which had just been
wrung from James.
A few lines sufficed to show her the whole
import of the paper, and stretching out the
other hand to me while tears suffused her fine
eyes, she said, “ oh, Doctor how shall I ever
thank you for the kindness you have displayed
for a poor friendless woman ?”
“ Never mind that, you had better wait until
thare is something worth the thanks you wish
to bestow. Now 1 have something else to tell
you which will show how much cause you have
for rejoicing,” and I proceeded, to relate to the
astonished woman the narrative I had heard
from Minty.
“ Well, this is the most extraordinary dis
closure I ever heard,” she said when I conclud
ed—“ can there be any doubt of the truth of
what the woman says ?”
“ Not a particle Mrs. Merton—a few days I
trust, will suffice to end the whole affair, and
you will—no matter; it is best not to anticipate
too much. There is many a slip you know,
’twixt the cup and the lip.”
“ Oh, I dare not think of the happiness you
promise,” she said, clasping her hands, and
looking down as if lost in meditation.
“ Well you had better not. It will be time
enough when it is all realised—l am doing all I
can to serve you, and have only Martha now to
conquer. I hope to be able to manage her with
out much trouble, if I can even get an opportu
nity of seeing her alone, and apart from the
influence of Mrs. Simmons.”
“ Heaven grant you success Doctor, for I can
not doubt that it will afford you real pleasure.”
“ You onl}' do me justice Nmv, *l t
must gv. ,*xii you nave to 00 is to remain quiet,
and keep up a good heart—a few days longer of
suspense will be all I shall ask you to submit
to,” and after a few general remarks, I took my
leave.
“ But why the deuce,” I exclaimed, out of
all patience, “ why the deuce don’t yon tell me
what Minty’s narrative was. You have spoken
of it half a dozen times, and have set me puzzl
ing my brains to wonder what it could be.”
“ Don’t be impatient my dear fellow,” said
the Doctor coolly, “you will know it all in
good time —I don’t like to interrupt the thread
of my narrative; it will come in its proper
place.”
“ Then do go ahead and get to that as soon as
soon as possible. Come, what about Martha, of
course you saw her and managed her easy
enough.”
“ You shall hear. On the same evening I
went as I promised, to take tea with Mrs. Sim
mons and Jane, and waited in the parlor alone
some time while they preparing, I suppose to
receive me.
Martha came in and out half a dozen times
while I was seated there, and at length I called
her to me, and whispered, at the same time
slipping a dollar into her hand, that I wanted
to see her at my office in the morning, to which
she nodded a ready assent, nothing doubting
that I was going to use her as a go-between,
between myself and Jane.
Sure enough the next morning there she was
at an early hour, and as soon as she entered, I
rose and locked the door, and turned to her
with a threatening countenance.
“Now Martha,” I said, pulling'from my
pocket the confession of her partner in iniquity.
“ I have no desire to send you to the state
prison, but unless you make a full and frank
confession, I shall have no other course to
pursue.”
At the word state prison, Martha, who had
come with, very different anticipations, turned
pale and trembled excessively, but she soon
recovered her self-possession, and said with the
most wonderful composure, “ well if that’s all
you wanted of me Doctor, you have got hold of
the wrong person. I had better go home now,
and you can do as you choose at your leisure—
you know where you can always find me.”
The impudence of the woman nearly stagger
ed me, but I saw that I should never have an
other such a chance and I determined to profit
by it —opening therefore the confession which
I held in my hand, I approached her and said
sternly “ you may put on as many airs as you
like Martha, and you may look as innocent as
you choose, but I have that here, which will
send you to Sing Sing, when I choose to say
the word—James, your partner in villany has
made a full confession, and you are implicated
beyond the hope of escape. Once more I give
you your choice, a free confession or the state
prison. Nor need you fear Mrs. Simmons your
employer. In a few days she will be so situated,
nothing she can say or do, can harm you. Come
now, what do you say ?”
“ Only this,” she replied, with the most pro
voking Composure. “ James may tell as many
lies as he chooses, and may fool you to his
hearts content, I know rather too much for
that; so you have my answer, and I suppose 1
may go home.”
“ Not exactly,” I replied going to the bell
and ringing it—“ I shall not let you off quite so
easily as you think. I shall send for an officer,
and he will know what to do when he reads
this paper, and I held it. up before her.
“ You dare not do such a thing,” she said with
a forced attempt at bravado.
“ You shall see,” was my reply, and at the
moment the servant entered whom 1 directed
to wait while I penned a hasty note to the
Magistrate, requesting him to send an officer at
once.
She began by this time to feel that she might
be playing a losing game, and she said, rather
impatiently,” you will repent this Doctor, you
have no right to detain me here.”
“ I mean to run all the risk, Martha. I know
exactly what I am doing, I gave you your
choice—you have made it, and must abide the
consequences.”
“ Seed that man away,” she said with an
altered tone, and I did as she requested.
“ Now Doctor, I should like to know precise
ly what it is you want,” she replied, seating
herself.
“ Simply that you should tell the truth
respecting Mrs. Merton.”
“ And suppose I have anything to tell.”
“ 1 will see you harmless against any conse
quences from any quarter, and vou will perhaps
be rewarded.”
“ And suppose I have nothing.”
“ You know the alternative.”
“ Just read what James has stated,” and seat
ing myself, I proceeded to read his confession
to which she listened without changing a
muscle of her countenance. °
“ And you believe all that ?” she asked.
“ Every word of it. They are the words of
man who thinks he is dying, and who would not
I am sure perjure himself.”
“ Will you pledge yourself to bear me out
against Mrs. Simmons?”
“ Assyredly I will.”
“ Then I will sign that paper also,” she said,
with an air of resolution. “ But when do you
mean to use it ?”
“ Immediately, to-morrow perhaps.”
“ Won’t there be a precious time ?” she said
half to herself with a chuckle. “No matter
I’ve kept my word so far, and I don’t choose to
go to prison for her or any body else. So come
Doctor I’ll sign that at once.”
“ One thing Martha, you are not to breathe a
word to a human being until I allow you. You
must not go home and tell Mrs. Simmons, so as
to give her a chance to escape.”
“ No, not a word I promise you. I don’t bear
her any particular love or hatred —she paid me
well enough for what I did for her, but not well
enough to go any farther.”
“ Then wait a moment,” and ringing the bell,
I directed the servant to go next door and ask
my neighbor Mr. J to step in, as I intend-
ed’ that he should witness her signature. While
he was gone I wrote at the bottom of James’
confession, an acknowledgment from Martha
that it was perfectly true, and this she signed
in the presence of Mr. J .
“ You won’t forget your pledge, Doctor,” she
said to me, when the business which had called
her there, had been thus successfully closed.
“ No, do not fear ; Mrs. Simmons power is
gone.”
“ I wonder what Miss Jane will think of
this ?” Martha said half aloud.
5“ Why surely,” said I, “ she did not know
you were coming here.”
“Oh yes, she managed to get it out of me.
Now what shall I say to her ?”
“ Oh, you must be very mysterious at present
Martha, she will know all about it to-morrow.
Mr. Barton is at the house as usual, I suppose.”
“ Yes, half the day and night too, for all I
know to the contrary,” she replied rather
spitefully.”
Z “ Then you must manage the best you can. It
will not be’ longer than to-morrow, before I shall
tell all I know, and then you will have nothing
to fear or conceal.”
“ I suppose I may as well wish you good
luck,” she said rising to go. “ I wish I had
never brought myself into such a scrape at all.”
“ Well, I’ll see you safe out of it, and you
will be wiser for the future.”
Martha then took her leave, and my next
care was to see Mr. Simmons, and lay before
him the discovery I had made. To this end I
penned a brief note requesting him to meet me
that afternoon at five o’clock, at my office on
urgent business, and having dispatched it, I
started off to see James, and give him a little
encouragement.
CTo be continued.]
love’s latest.
Accept, dear maid, this beauteous rose,
To deck thy breast most fair;
Observe its hue, nor wonder why
It blushes to be there !
THE lady’s ANSWER. ’
I will accept thy beauteous rose,
And on my breast enslave it!
But should ii blush, I must suppose,
’Tis for the fool that gave it!
patriotism
Of an Irish Bishop.
We make room for a few paragraphs from the
letter of Bishop Maginn, written in answer to
a letter soliciting his approval of Lord John Rus
sell’s plan for Irish emigration. It has got the
fire of the Hint in it.
The good Bishop says :
“ God gave us Ireland to feed us, clothe us,
and provide us with every means of subsistence.
The gift, you will admit, was a munificent one;
for, under Heaven’s sun there is not a more
beautiful land ; but your committee, dissatisfied
with God’s gift to us, would exhibit their sur
passing benevolence by transporting us to the
woods of Canada. The Shannon is a miserable
stream when compared to the St. Lawrence;
the change must therefore be for the better; and
should it be our lotto starve or die on the banks
of that noble river, we could not surely regret
our destiny, as death or starvation in a foreign
land, notwithstanding what Jacob thought or
Joseph commanded,must be much more delight
ful than in the sight of the hills and cabins that
saw us born.”
“ But, in sober earnestness, gentlemen, why
send your circular to a Catholic bishop ? Why
have the barefaced impudence to ask me to con
sent to the expatriation of millions of my co-re
ligionists and fellow-countrymen ? You, the
hereditary oppressors of my race and my reli
gion—you, who reduced one of the noblest peo
ples under Heaven to live on the most fertile
island on earth on the worst species of a miser
able exotic, which no humane man having any
thing better would constantly give to his swine
or his horses—you, who have made the most
beautiful island under the sun a land of skulls
or of ghastly spectres —you are anxious, I pre
sume, to get a Catholic bishop to abet your
wholesale system of extermination—to head in
pontificals the convoy of your exiles, and there
by give the sanction of religion to your atrocious
scheme. You never, gentlemen, labored under
a mere egregious mistake than by imagining that
.... , - ... —a I.rM WW —jrvui —prmci- ■
pies, or could have any, the least confidence, in
anything proceeding from you.”
“ II they be not guilty, but the proprietors
of the soil who robbed them and pillaged them
for centuries —who forced them to make double
quantities of brick, and would not allow them
even a wisp of straw—who reduced them to a
condition a thousand times worse than that of
the negro slave—who made the lot of the Israel
ite under the Egyptian Pharaoh enviable—who,
not satisfied with oppressing them, defamed
them—imputed the poverty and ignorance
which they themselves created to their miser
able victims—employed a hireling press to heap
insult on injury—to calumniate them, that they
might trample on them with impunity—who
heard their wailing and were unmoved—looked
on their agony without remorse or pity, but ra
ther gloated over the W'rithings of them they
racked and tortured—why, of course,-as friends
of distributive justice, not transport them, the
taskmasters, to Canada, and let them enjoy the
good things you have provided for the innocent
poor on the banks of the St, Lawrence ?”
“ Employ the Catholic peasant anywhere, say
you, but not in Ireland. Join us in removing
the carrion people from before our eyes beyond
the seas, or anywhere, that we may forget the
misery we created, and banish the apprehension
of retributive justice, which God always re
serves for the tyrants and oppressors of the peo
ple through the instrumentality of the oppress
ed. The murderers would wish to hide their
victims lest their mangled frames should rise in
judgment against them. It will not, however,
gentlemen, do. The bulk of the Irish Catholic
people will stick to their native soil, were it for
nothing else but to haunt you in your dreams of
pleasure. Since you would not let the peasants
live as Christians, you will be forced to look on
their spectres —they will stick to you like the
‘ man of the sea on Sinbad’s back;’ and since
you would not raise them up, they will have the
gratification of bringing you down to their level.
You may shudder at the thought ofbeing brought
into association with the filth and rags of these
skeletons ot your own making, as Satan shrunk
back when he saw the hideous forms of Sin and
Death which he himself had created.”
“ Should any, however, among ,our people,
volunteer to dissociate themselves from you,and
sing on their leaving th'e Egypt you have made
for them, ‘ In exitu Israel de JEgypto, domiis
Jocob de populo harbaro,’ could you think that
anv friend of theirs would advise them to go to
any land where the members that compose your
committee could exercise any, the least, influ
ence over them, or could make themselves their
ex-officio guardians ? Would any friend advise
them to lie down with your favorite beast, the
old British lion, when they might place them
selves under the all-protecting wing of the
young transatlantic eagle ? No, gentlemen ; if
our starving people be forced to emigrate, they
will go to the ‘ land of the brave add the home
of the free.’
“ They will take shelter under the star-span
gled banner, colonise the far west, or in some
sunny vale on the banks of the Mississippi as
pire to the proud position of being some day a
bright luminary in the Morions constellation of
the great Republic. They will be free from
your ‘ ex-officio,’ your • quarter acre tests,’ your
‘ notices to quit,’ and your ‘ ejectment decrees,’
grateful to God, who provided this noble elm in
the new world for the trodden-down vines of
the old.”
“ An apology is due to you, gentlemen, for the
length of this letter—none for the sentiments it
contains, as I believe them to be the truth’ I
had not time to make it more concise. You will,
however, sufficiently understand from it that I
at least do not adhere to the principles of your
letter and memorial to Lord John Russell—be
cause we have an abundance of waste lands and
resources in Ireland to employ and feed double
the present population; because I believe this
scheme of yours to have been conceived in ha
tred to the Irish people and their favorite creed;
because I recognise among the principals in your
committee the names of the descendants of those
who abetted Cromwell in transporting seventy
thousand of the Irish people to the Indies, to die
there like dogs, unanointed, unannealed.
“ I further dissent from the principles of your
letter and memorial, because I could not lend
myself to make the innocent suffer for the guil
ty, nor consent to the removal of millions from
Ireland, to whom, I believe, the laws of God and
nature have given a just title to the soil, which
no human law can place in abeyance without a
fraud, nor annul without a crime Finally, 1
dissent from the principles of your committee,
and refuse them in every way my adhesion, be
cause I believe its members, with one or two
honorable exceptions, devoid of patriotism—
bigotted, selfish, tha ghost of that misnamed
‘ Irish Party’ which Ireland—firt cajoled and
then shamelessly misrepresented by it—now
justly distrusts and England deservedly scorns.
“ I remain, gentlemen,
“ your most obedient servant,
“ ] Edward Maginn,
Bishop ofCErthosia, and C. Adm. of Derry.
The .French women,the well formed of them,
do not wear corsets now. This is called the in
solent confidence of beauty.
[Original.]
(Dffu’c Sketdjes.
Paddy the Pawn.
“,Where is Paddy Burke ?” enquired the
court.
“ I’m here, your honor,” answered a voice
from out a sack.
Magistrate. Come here, then, until I see
what you’re made of.
And the sack, which seemed as much like a
sack of [potatoes as anything, shuffled up to the
bar.
Magistrate. I don’t see what you are made of
yet. If you have any head, out with it.
And out of the sack popped a rather good
looking Irish face, but with a month’s beard,
and awfully dirty, and an exceedingly red head
that might have been combed last Christmas.
Magistrate. And you’re Paddy Burke, are
you ?
Paddy. Faix, I’m not quite sure ov that same,
your honor ; but I believe I'm about half Paddy
Burke, and half dead.
Magistrate. Get out of the sack, and let mt
look at you all over.
Paddy. Oh, mother of Moses ! what’s this foi
at all, at all. Oh, Jack Flynn, Jack Flynn, may
you die with your shoes on, an the devil for
your father confessor!
Magistrate. What are you scolding at ? Why
don’t you get out of the bag ?
Paddy. Me clothes isn’t over an above daicint,
your honor.
Magistrate. Never mind; we are not very
fastidious. Come, strip, sir.
Paddy. Oh, Jack Flynn, Jack Flynn ! if the
divil has one hotter corner than another, I pray
the saints he may keep it for you I Ordher me
to be pitched fifty fathoms deep undher the
wide ocean, your honor, but don’t ax me to
sthrip.
Magistrate. Why ?
Paddy. If there’s no ladies here, I’ll tell you
in confidence.
Magistrate. There are none you can frighten
much, any way, Paddy; so proceed.
Paddy.—Thin, betune us, your honor, (oh,
Jack Flynn, every sweet bad luck attend you,
for gettin wan ov the Burkes of Galway into
such a fix as this 1) But as I was sayin, your
honor, exceptin the sack, the divil a stitch I
have on me, barrin the shirt I was born in. An
now that the murdther’s out, send me off, an
have me daicintly hung at wanst, or I’ll be af
ther bringin purdition on me sowl, be cursin
Jack Flynn!
Magistrate. Why, what did Jack Flynn do ?
Paddy. He pledged me, your honor. He put
me in pawn, an didn’t relaise me; for the
which I’ll hant him with my ghost to the ind
ov all etarnity; an that’s why I’m in such a
hurry to be hung or dhrownded, in ordher that
I may begin at wanst.
Magistrate. How was it, Paddy ?
■ Paddy. Aisy enough, your honor. Jack
Flynn an meself was in partnership in a shuit
of clothes.
Magistrate. Why, had you but one suit be
tween you ?
Paddy. The divil a more, your honor, barrin
the sack ; for Jack lost his hat, coat, an vesht
on a bit ova sphree ;an I lost me shirt, breech
es, and boots at the election, bad luck to it! —so
that you see we had but wan shuit betune uz ;
an that same none ov the best.
Magistrate. Well, Paddy.
Paddy. Well, your honor, as we worn’t Turks
or Hottentots, that run about naked, we made
a bargain that wan ov uz should stop at home
in the sack while the other wint out to work;
an so to keep on until we could musther a few
duds.
Magistrate. That was good management,
Paddy.
Paddy. It done well enough, only in regard
ov the landlord, your honor, that wouldn’t
give thrust, “ Shure you can’t dhraw blood
from a turnip,” sez I. “ That’s the very rai
son,” sez he; “ for yees won’t be able to pay
the rint.” Well, I thried to soften his heart
wid a little blarney; but shure I might as well
have undher taken to put out hell with a thim
ble ov wather. “ Thin you won’t hear raisin,”
sez I. “ Divil a taste,” sez he, “ barrin I’m
ped for it, so yees may take yourselves off!”
Well, your honor, Jack was in the bag that
time; so I showldhered him like a sack ov
murphys, an set out on me thravels ! “ What
are we to do now, Jack, ahaigur ?”-sez I.
“ Couldn’t you pledge me for a thriflesez he ;
“ an I’ll lie on the shelf like a bundle ov rags,
until I’m redeemed agin I” “ Well thought ov,”
sez I. So I went to Micky Brady; but Micky
(knowing Jack betther nor meself,) wouldn’t
loan sixpence on him ! I thin wint to Pether
Courtney,[who I hard was a Christian. “There,
Pether,” sez I, “is a bargain for you, if you
want to make money.” “ What is it ?" sez
Pether. “ It’s Jack Flynn,” sez I, “ that I want
to pledge for a week’s rent, an I ’ll give you a
shilling exthra for intherest.” “ I wouldn’t
give a week’s rent for as many ov Jack Flynns
as could stand on a tin acre field,” sez he.
‘ Well but,” sez I, “ how do you know but that
he might die in the main time, an thin Docthor
Mott would give you his weight in goold for
him !■” “ That might be a good speculation
enough,” sez Pether, considherin, “but thin
.[’ni afeard I couldn’t sell him accordin to law.”
''r’‘“A VI “ I WoM-J-
sez Pether, “ for if he died, an I sowiu nlmyhe
might be hauntin the house for the price ov
himself —so clear out!” “ Bleodinagers Jack,”
sez I, “ then it’s all up with uz.” “ Not yet,”
sez Jack, “ thry the widdies !” Well, I took him
to the widdy O’Toole—but she havin a heart as
hard as a cobbler’s lap stone, shut the door on
uz. The widdy O’Brien was just as bad; an the
widdy McGuire was worse than either; for she
follied uz with a broomstick, an made poor Jack
schream out again like a coop ov chickens. ’An
to mend the matther, the widdy McGrath
fainted off whin I only mintioned It to her, so
that I had to run for me life for fear we’d be
thried for murdher!
Magistrate. You had hard times of it, Paddy.
Paddy. Hanging is only child’s play to it,your
honor. “ Jack,” sez I, “we can do nothing
with the widdies, so I’ll thry owld Barney Fagin;
and if he don’t stand to uz, I’ll turn you into a
marmaid by sousing you into the Aist River.”
“Agreed,” sez Jack, but faix Barney wasn’t
in the same humor; for he held Jack so chaip
that he would’nt have bought him at a penny a
hundred weight. “ But shure you have a sowl
to be saved,” sez L “ I have a sowl any way,”
sez he. “ It’s said to be in a bad state,” sez I,
“ Midlin,” sez he, “It might be well for it
thin,” sez I, “ to have wan good deed before
you in the next world.” “It might,” sez he,
“ and with that ind in view, I don’t care if I
liiid you the loan ova week’s rint on him. But
mind—sowl or no sowl—fifty cents—the l int ov
the blind attic for a week—is all I’ll risk.”
Magistrate. So you got settled at. last, Paddy.
Paddy. We did faith ; snug, your honor—in a
dark garret, without a bed or an air-hole.
Howsomever, worse wouldn’t better it: so we
both got into the sack, an slept like tops till
morning, whin I wint out an got such lashings
ov work that be Sathurday night we had six
shillings over the rint, an keeping uz.
Magistrate. Which, of course, you laid up
towards buying the clothes.
Paddy We did your honor—for just half an
hour—whin, for joy ov our luck, we thought
we’d venture on a small taste to keep the heart
in us! And, be gorra, we succeeded in respect
ov the heart first rate; but in the regard of the
six shillings,, there wasn’t as much of it left on
Monday morning, as would buy a rope’s end to
hang ourselves, or I’m thinking owld Barney
would have had a windfall, if subjects sell as
well as they used to do, at the college of sur
geons.
Magistrate. And what did you do then, Pat ?
Paddy. Why, ov coorse, Jack wint to work,
an I remained in the sack ; an on Saturday, ha
ving a dollar over, we swore aginst dhrink for
a week, barrin wan glass a-piece to strengthen
our resolution. But findin two necessary, we
sthretched our conscience a little. An thin,
be dad, our good angels gev us up for a bad job,
an, ov coorse, every cent ov the monev follied
shuit. Well, it being Jack’s turn for the bag,
1 wint to work ; an would you believe it, your
honor, the divil ordhered things in precisely
the same manner ; so that on the next Mondy
mornin, whin it was Jack’s owf, we hadn’t a rap
betune uz. “ Never mind,” sez Jack, as he was
going off, “ I have a plan in me head will do
the thing nait.” An so he had, the villain ov
the world ; for—may the divil run away with
his shadow ! —I havn’t clapped an eye on him
self.
Magistrate. And did he leave you nothing to
eat ?
Paddy. Yes, your honor, aloafov bread, three
red herrins, an a pair ov owld boots, (which,
be the same token, were as tough as gads, as I
had no way ov boilin them,) an the divil a taste
else.
Magistrate. And how did you get here ?
Paddy. Faix, your honor, just as aisy as
tumbling down stairs; for whin Saturdy kern,
so did ould Fagin for the rint. “ I can’t raise
it just now,” sez I. “ Thin conshumin to you,
be off,” sez he. *■ It was Jack was pledged be
fore,” sez I; “won’t you lind me the loan ov
fifty cents—or rather a week’s lodgin—on me
self now ?”
Magistrate. Stay a moment, Pat. What did
you expect to live on ?”
Paddy. Oh, in respect ov that, your honor, I
felt independent enough; for I had wan ov the
boots left. But, as I was saying, “It was Jack
was pledged before,” sez I; “won’t you lind
me the loan ov fifty cents on meself now “ I
will,” sez he, “ whin you come up agin.” An
with that, the ould naiger seizes meself be the
sack—for I was doubled up in it like a cod in a
pot—an before I could say,“the Lord save us!”
kicked me down stairs, and into the street.
Magistrate. Where I suppose the policemen
found you.
Paddy. Faix, I suppose so, your honor; for
I was too busy counting my broken bones to
attend to anything else !
And so ended the story of Paddy the Pawn,
who was forthwith made one ol the happiest
fellows in Christendom, by the present of a
first-rate suit of clothes, which had lately
graced the portly person of Justice Merritt.
A people to be thoroughly free, must be in
dependent, A free soil to all, will make a
really free people.
barieti).
Cologne.—This is one of those remarkable
cities which have witnessed every fashion of
human life, and every form of worldly power.
Founded by ancient Rome, and nursed by mod
ern Rome—owing its first existence to the mo
ther of Nero, and its first Christianity to the
mother of Constantine; it has been the seat of
Pagan institutions ; the arena of Christian mar
tyrs ; the stronghold of religious dominion; the
pattern of municipal independence; the store
house of useful commerce, and the birth-place
of elegant arts. It contains within its walls
progressive specimens of every style of archi
tecture, from the stern old church, built with
the stones of the ancient capital,to the trumpery
facade of the Rathhaus, calling itself modern
Greek.
It has seen the deeds of the hero of the Niebe
lungen ; it has been the home of Albertus Mag
nus, the magician ; the abode of Thomas of
Aquinas, the saint; the tomb of Duns ScotuS,
and the resort of Petrarch. It has Waged its
own war, coined its oWn mark, and fixed its
own measure. It has reverenced the most ab
solute sovereigns, and asserted the most repub
lican rights. It has stood highest as an Arch
episcopal diocese, and foremost in the Hansea
tic league. Its prelates have sent embassies to
England, and its merchants have had a guild of
their own in London. • Kings from the far west
have come to worship within its walls at the
shrine of the kings of the far east.
It has attracted students from Iceland, in the
fame of its learning, and supplied Poland with
abbots in the fame of its piety. “ (fui non vidit
Coloniam, non vidit Germanium,” was a cur
rent saying; and “as rich as a Cologne weaver,”
a. universal proverb. It developed a school of
architects, whose recommendation, the world
over, was that they came from Cologne; and a
school of artists, of whom all that is known is,
that they belonged to Cologne. It had a native
patois of its own, and a distinctive physiognomy
of its own, and has them both still; while past
and present occasionally meet in curious juxta
position ; the quaint Byzantine windows of an
upper story keep their place over the staring
plate-glass of a cafe in the lower, and the Ro
man toga, till within the last forty years, was
worn on all occasions by magisterial venders of
.Eaw de Cologne.—London dimer. Her.
The Place for Wooing.—A modern writer
who seems to have had much experience in the
art of Whispering soft nothings in the ears of
dear girls—as courting may be concisely de
fined—broaches some capital ideas on this sub
ject. He says that the notion of wooing under
the trysting oak, in the willow glen, or in the
moon-litdell, of which poets havesungso much,
is all gammon—that making love, to be a suc
cessful, should be a comfortable, operation, and
therefore done in a pleasant parlor, with the
parties lounging on luxurious sofas, etc.—
whereas, if done qut-o’-doors, “ when the silver
moon is beaming,” rheumatism is. generally
“ about,” and the damp ground affords too good
an opportunity of making its acquaintance. He
adds the following capital remarks :
“ Perhaps there is not so much romance now
about making love as of yore, but the utility of
the present plan must be acknowledged. The
ladies have matters so nicely arranged that it is
almost impossible for a bachelor to refrain from
making love when thrown into their company.
The sex is artful, and manage this business of
courting by instinct. You can’t teach a woman
anything about love matters ; lectures and hints
are useless; she has more knowledge about such
things by intuition than a man can acquire by
great experience and long study. The tact with
which she manages during the anxious season
of ‘ paving attention,’ is an evident proof. What
uncaught masculine can resist her preparations
upon a bleak winter evening ? The blazing fire
suggesting to the unfortunate bachelor such
pleasing ideas of what home might be, if he had
a home; the judicious manner ih which the
astral lamp is shaded, its mellowed light en
hancing the warm glow from the grate; and
then the luxurious sonrwith its pretty occu-~
pant! How can one resist the impulse to seize
that soft, delicate hand —to encircle that taper
waist—to gaze in those speaking eyes—and—to
—to—snatch a kiss from those pouting lips ?
Away with your twaddle about moonlight skies,
nightingale’s songs, and all such stuff! The
most sensible place in Which a man should pop
the question is in a cheerful parlor, with cheer
ful influences such as you wish about your own
home around you—where everything is sugges
tive of domestic pleasures and domestic com
forts, and the fair creature beside you shows in
every movement the superiority of domestic
arrangements.
Curious Maxims.—He, who in the same
given time can produce more than many others,
has vigor ; he, who can produce more and bet
ter, has talents; he, who can produce what
none else can, has genius.
The creditor, whose appearance gladdens the
heart of a debtor, may hold his head in sun
beams and his foot on storms.
He knows nothing of men, who expects to
convince a determined party-man; and he is
but little acquainted with the world, who des
pairs of the final impartiality of the public.
The rapid- 'vhn.i’w h.p „.;n, n „
tieiice, can bear all injuries.
The poor,who envies not the rich, who pities
his companions of poverty, and can spare some
thing for him that is still poorer, is, in the
realms of humanity, a king of kings.
Three days of uninterrupted company in a
vehicle will make you better acquainted’ with
another, than one hour’s conversation with him
every day for three years.
The poet, who composes not before the mo
ment of inspiration, and, as that leaves him,
ceases—composes, and he alone, for all men, all
classes, all ages.
Genius always gives its best at first, prudence
at last.
If you mean to be loved, give more than what
is asked, but not more than what is wanted; and
ask less than what is expected.
Questions to no purpose, questions quicker
than answers can be given,questions after things
that interest him not, mark an idiot.
He submits to be seen through a microscope,
who suffers himself to be taken in a fit of pas
sion.
You never saw a vulgar character disinterest
edly sensible of the value of time.
Keep him at least three paces distant who
hates music and the laugh of a child..
He has the stamp of a. great soul, who
hides his deepest grief from the friend whom he
might trust even with the communication of
vices.
He has convivial talents who makes the eater
lorget his meal; and he has oratory who ra
vishes his hearers, whilst he forgets himself.
Take here the. grand secret—if not of
pleasing all, yet of displeasing none—Court
mediocrity, avoid originality, and sacrifice to
fashion.
How to Speak to Children.—lt is usual
to attempt the management of children either
by corporeal punishment, or by rewards ad
dressed to the senses, and by words alone.
There is one other means of government, the
power and importance of which are seldom re
garded—l refer to the human voice. A blow
may be inflicted on a child, accompanied with
words so uttered, as to counteract entirely its
intended effect; or the parent may use language
in the correction ot the child, not objectionable
in itself, yet spoken in a tone which more than
defeats its influence. A few notes, however
unskilfully arranged, if uttered in a soft tone,
are found to possess a magical influence. Think
we that this influence is confined to the cradle ?
No: it is diffused over every age, and ceases
not while the child remains under the parental
roof. Is the boy growing rude in manner, and
boisterous in speech ? 1 know of no instrument
so sure to control those tendencies as the sen
tie tones of a mother. She who speaks to her
son Harshly, does but give to his conduct the
sanction of her own example. She pours oil
on the already raging flame. In the pressure
of duty, we are liable to utter ourselves hastily
to children. Perhaps a threat is expressed in
a loud and irritating tone ; instead of allaying
the passions of the child, it serves directly to
increase them. Every fretful expression awa
kens in him the same spirit which produced it.
So does a pleasant voice call up agreeable feel
ings. Whatever disposition, therefore, we
would encourage in a child, the same we
should manifest in the tone in which we ad
dress it.
A learned man of Dijon, being fatigued all day
with studying one particular passage in a Greek
poet, without being able to comprehend it-,
went at. length to bed, and fell asleep. He fan
cied himself transported in a dream to the
palace of Christiana, at Stockholm, where he
visited the Queen ot Sweden’s library, and per
ceived a small volume; he opened it and read
ten Greek verses, which solved all the difficulty
he had labored under. His joy awakened him:
he rose, n»ted down what he had just read, and,
finding the adventure of so extraordinary a na
ture, he wrote to Descartes, who was then with
the Queen in Sweden, and described to him all
the particulars of his dream. Descartes replied
to him, telling him that the most skilful engi
neer could not have drawn the plan of the pa
lace better, nor the library, than he had done
in his letter; that he had found the bookin
question on the tablet he had pointed out; that
he had therein read the verses mentioned by
him, and that he would send him the work at
the first opportunity.
Effect.—French women certainly think a
good deal of effect. I believe if a house full of
them were to be on fire, they would all throw
themselves into elegant attitudes before they
called for assistance, and I have been told, that
a disconsolate widow,whose grief over the tomb
of her husband in the Pere la Chaise used to be
the admiration of all Paris, was accustomed to
practice daily her exclamations of despair be
for a looking-glass!
Here is a combination of the brief and affec
tionate, worthy of imitation—perhaps. It is in
the shape of an epistle, from a nice young
student to his father, who receives it periodi
cally :
Dear Captain— The term is drawing to an
apex. Send on the rocks. Yours.
□Vnccbotcs.
Lewis XIV. playing at backgammon had a
doubtful throw. A dispute arose, and the sur
rounding courtiers all remained silent. The
Count de Gramont happened to come in at the
same instant.
“ Decide the matter,” said the King to him.
“ Sire,” said the Count, ‘. 4 your Majesty is in |
the wrong.”
“ How !” replied the king, “can you thus de
cide without knowing the question ?”
“ Because,” said the Count, “ had the matter
been doubtful, all these gentlemen* present
would have given it for your majesty.”
As the Duke of Bedford was one day on horse
back, not far from Wooburn Abbey, in company
with some gentlemen, his Grace observed four
laborers malting a hearty meal in the open field.
Struck with a sudden whim, he roue up to the
honest rustics, and asked them if they thought
themselves perfectly happy. Three of them
replied that, confining their wants to what God
pleased to send them, they had not a wish in
the world. But the fourth frankly confessed,
that one thing thing was wanting to his felici
ty ; namely, the recovery of a spot of ground, a
house, and a mill, which had been in the pos
session of his family for a long succession of
years, and which his father had imprudently
disposed of.
“ And if you had this inheritance,” said the
Duke, would you then be fully contented ?”
“ As much so,” renlied the rustic, “ as it is
possible for man to be !”
“ What is it worth ?” resumed his Grace.
“ I could purchase it,” returned the country
man for ninety guineas.”
“Let this honest fellow have to that amount,”
said the Duke, returning to his steward ; “ I
shall then have the satisfaction to reflect that I
have at least rendered one man happy.”
A late celebrated Irish councellor as remark
able for his brogue as for his bon-mots; being
retained against a young officer, who was in
dicted fora very gross assault, opened thecause
in the following manner t
“ My lord, I am counsel for the crown ; and
I am first to acquaint yoffr lordship, that this
soldier ”
“ Stop, sir !” said the military hero: “ I
should have yoU know, sir, I am an offi'c'er.”
“ 0, sir, I beg your pardon,’ says the coun
sellor, very drily : why, then, my lorb, to speak
more correctly, this officer, who is no soldier !”
Louis XIV. who loved a concise style, met on
the road, as he was travelling into the country,
a priest who was riding post; and, ordering him
to stop, asked hastily, “ Whence come you ?
where are you going ? what do you want ?”
The other, who perfectly well knew the
King’s disposition, instantly replied—“ From
Burgos—to Paris—a benefice
“You shall have it,” replied the king; and
in a few days presented to him a valuable living.
A negro in the Island of St. Kitt’s had so cruel
8 master, that he dreaded the very sight of him.
After exercising a variety of tyrannical acts
among his slaves, the planter at last died, and
left his son heir to his estates. Sometime after
his death, a gentleman meeting the negro, asked
him how his master behaved: “I suppose,” said
he, “ he’s a chip of the old block.”
“ No, no,” says the negro,“master be all block
himself.”
A cardinal, high in the confidence of’ Pope
Alexander the Sixth, told him one day, that it
would be expedient to banish the physicians
out of Rome, for they were entirely useless.
“ No,” says the Pope, “they are quite the re
verse; for without them the world would in
crease so fast, that one could not live by
another.”
A country gentleman,going sne very hot day
into his fields, perceived his footman lying
dozing under oak—
•‘"Wtratyfellow,” mud he, “ is the reason you
lie lounging in this manner, while othets are at
work ?”.
“ You see, sir,” replied the valet, “ I am so
extremely fatigued, that I am unable to stand on
my legs.”
“ Sluggish rascal I” cried the gentleman, “ if
I once take my cane to you, I warrant I shall
make you rise. Get up, insolent knave ! You
ought to perish with hunger, and are unworthy
that the sun should shine on you.”
“ I am quite conscious of that, sir,” returned
the fellow, yawning, “and have therefore taken
care to lay myself in the shade.”
A young fellow meeting with a gentleman
much older than himself, at a lady’s to whom
both paid their addresses, took an opportunity
of sarcastically asking his rival, what age he
might be ?
“ I cannot be exact,” replied the order; “but
I have always understood than an ass is older
at twenty that a man at sixty.”
Antalcidas a spartan, being about to enter
into the priesthood, was asked by the priest,
what action worthy'of renown he had perform
ed during his life ? He replied, “If I have per
formed any, God himself is acquainted with it ”
~riuVT 11UU1L 8.1 1 nnttrm rvriuunrs cyll uiy t Adi If CT
a notion of the Deity ! and surely nothing can
be more foolish than to imagine by the com
memoration of our actions, to recommend our
selves to the Deity, who has the clearest know
ledge of their value and worth.
Erkskine. —“I never knew,” said this
great man, “ a man remarkable for heroic bra
very, whose very aspect was not lighted up by
gentleness and humanity.”
Lord Camden.—He paid an illustrious com
pliment to Fox when he said, that his price
was immortality, and he knew that posterity
would pay it.
Lord Erkskine and Dr. Parr were vain
men. At a dinner, Parr, in ectacies with E.’s
conversation, addressed him thus : “ My Lord,
I mean to write your epitaph.” “ Dr. Parr,”
replied E., “ it is a temptation to commit sui
cide.”
David the Painter. —When this renown
ed artist painted his large picture of Buona
parte’s Coronation, a connoisseur observed to
him, that he had made the Empress Joseephine
much too young. “Go and tell her so,” said
David.
Grenougii the Statuist.—“ I fear,” said a
lady to this artist, “that I will not make a good
bust.”
“ Oh, Madam,” replied he, “ I will make the
bust.”
Ben. Franklin.—This great observed used
to say, that he thought judges ought to be ap-.
pointed by the lawyers; “for,” he added,
shrewdly, “ in Scotland, where this practice
prevails, they always select the ablest member
of the profession, in order to get rid of him and
share his practice among themselves.”
i-UTHER. —He wrote rudely to a rude age,
and a rude class of readers. It is in his moral
courage, in his inexhaustible activity, his inde
fatigable perseverence, not in his mental ac
complishments, not in the profound and com
prehensive philosophy which calmly investi
gates the depth of a subject, that we must re
cognise the great distinction of Luther. He
wrote from his passions, passions in general
lofty and generous, but still passions. Had he
been a calm and severe thinker, a dispassionate
and philosophical writer, he never would have
occupied what we may presume to consider his
designated place in the religious history of man
kind. The man was greater than the author.
[ London (fly Rev'w.
Francis Xavier.—Aman of higher talent
than Loyola, a ripe scholar, and of that com
manding courage which nothing could daunt;
there were also in him a fervent piety,
and boundless self-sacrificing benevolence, that
all the errors of his faith could not obscure.
*****
The character of Xavier gave to the cause of
evangelization an impulse such as it had not re
ceived for seven centuries; and to this day his
church looks in vain for one, who, to his daunt
less zeal and untiring patience, has united the
splendor of his talents, and his wide influence,
they went overrunning a nation like some great
conflagration.—[Bost. Christ Rev.
A young prince, being on a journey, and find
ing himself cold, said to his preceptor. “ Give
me my mantle.”
The gentleman answered, “my lord, great
princes, speaking of their persons, always ex
press themselves in the plural number; you
should therefore have said, give us our mantle.”
The prince did not fail afterwards to observe i
the lesson exactly, and one day said to his pre- |
ceptor,
“ Our teeth ache.’”
“ Mine, I am sure,” replied he with a smile,
“ do not ache in the least, my lord.”
“ Then,” answered the prince, a little cha
grined at these words, “ I planly see, that the
mantle must be ours, but the tooth-ache mine
alone.”
An able critic being asked his opinion of the
productions of the celebrated Mr. Sterne, re
plied,— “ Sterne will be immortal when Rabe
lais and Cervantes are forgot. They drew their
characters from the particular genius of the
times. Sterne confined himself to nature only.”
While Sir Walter Raleigh was a scholar at
Oxford, there was a fellow, who, though of a
cowardly disposition, happened to be a very ex
pert archer. Having been grossly abused by
another, he had complained of the treatment he
had met with to Raleigh, and asked his advice.
“ What shall I do,” said he, “to repair
the wrongs which I have received?” “Challege
him,” replied Sir Walter,“ at a match of shoot
ing.”
A person being asked to explain the curse of
Scotland, generally said to be the nine of dia
monds [the number of jewels in the crown of
that kingdom], answered, “The curse was, that
they could not add a tenth to them.”
ELECTRICITY [TRIUMPHANT!!
FOR twenty-eight years I have been successful in
preventing 47 Amputations of the Limbs. Read the
following and be wise in time:
Walter Sparks, son of Samuel Sparks, Esq., Ex-Aider
man 4th ward, Marasmus, Tumified Abdomen—con
sumption given over as, incurable by Dr. Anderson.
Corner of Duane and William street.
Alex. S. Kennedy’s son, fits, long standing, 479 Grand
street.
Nicholas W. Stuyvesant, palsie, cured. Refers to
Peter Stuyvesant, Esq. Residence 175 Second Avenue,
corner 11th street.
Mrs. Hannah Derby, palsied eye lids—strabism of right
eye staphyloma, left eye immoveable, large as two eye
balls—blind. Cured. Resides at 51 Jay street, Brook
lyn. Treated unsuccessfully by Drs. Delafield, Cheese
man. Stearns and Mott.
William Thorburn, seedman, Albany—sprained ankle,
lacerated muscles. 18 months standing, joints anchy
losed, enlarged. Treated by Dr. Mott 9 months, who’
cured the fractured bones; also by the late Dr. Gram,
one year, unsuccessfully. Cured.
Legrand Douglass, cancerous ulcers in the leg, hypon
omous; attended by the late Mr. Parks by tractors; 3
years, no relief ('tired in 7 months—a severe case—leg
black, &c.
Jas. Stephens, house carpenter—shop 196 Ninth st., I
resides 176 Thompson street. Also, a patient of Parks 3 :
years, no cure—fever sore, leg black from knee to in
step, 5 cancerous sores, (hyponomos,) a very bad case.
Cured. Also, his mother of a severe contused tubis, !
very bad, cured.
Henry Styles, 235 Rivington street, paralegias years, !
also a cancellated breast. 11 fistulas, hypophora from the
neck to the base of the right sternum, from 3 to 4 inches
deep. (Cured.
Master Hossack, son of the late Dr. D. Hossack, cured
» p r a n y ol .both arms in 17 days—was electrified by
Prof. Renwick 3 months, no relief.
Chazournes, No. 159 Tenth street, cured of a
mortified sore of three years’ standing; life and limb
saved. Refers to Drs. Mott and Hossack
Miss Emily Cartwright, scrofula of ankle, limb con
demned to be cut oft in live days, of it would be too late;
so declared by Dr. Post-her bodily health declined so
fast. Refers to her father. No. 11l Front street, and Dr.
Post.
Col. David C. Golden, No. 176 Mercer street, President
of the Manhattan Gas Company—malignant tumor of
the elbow ; arm saved from amputation; considered in
curable. Refers to Dr. Torrey.
Mrs. Pearsall, Grand street, Williamsburgh, five can
cerous sores cured. Refers to Dr. Coz.
Mr. Francis Harrison, sore leg of 20 years’standing,
also of Williamsburgh, Lond Island.
Mr. Stephen Miles, oi Brooklyn Heights, clerk to Mr.
Randall, fur-dealer. No. 176 Water street, cured of ma
lignant white swelling of the knee. Refers to Dr.
James Quackinbush-
Mr. Jacob T. Vanderhoft', malignant swelling of the
knee, condemned to be amputated; resides at 56 High
street, Brooklyn.
John Tubby, malignant tumor of the log of 25 year’s
standing. Refers to Wm. C. White, merchant, corner
of Maiden Lane and Pearl street.
Jeremiah Craig, malignant tumor or white swelling
of knee of four years’ standing; joint anchy losed; con
demned to be amputated by seven surgeons of this city.
Refers to Dr. Mason, Brooklyn, and Dr. Mott. He re
sides in HUntOrdon county, Washington township, New
Jersey.
Louisa Spence, now Mrs. S. Dunlap, No. 5 Attorney
street,,liip complaint, with sinus 5 inches deep, 6 years
standing, leg drawn up and withered, knee joint still,
brought to me by her doctor, Wm. Rockwell, late
health officer at the quarantine hospital. Refers to him.
Caroline Mackrel, malignant tumor of the knee, chro
nic, also, her brother, of a severe contusion of the knee
—cured. Resides at 127 East Broadway.
Caroline*Wright, hip complaint of six years standing,
confined to her bed Irom 2 to 3 years; very bad case—
attended by Dr. Wood. Resides at No. 26 Market st.
Mrs. Turnure, No. 73 Henry street, tumor of the left
arm of eight months’ standing.
John T. Kelso, pilot, No. 118 Forsyth street, malignant
sore and swelled legs, of 6 months’standing, cured.
Aaron R. Thompson, cured of mortified large toe; re
sides at No. 165 Twelfth st; also cured of a consumptive
habit from his birth: now a hale and hearty man.
Charles Kelsey, Esq., cured of a malignant tumor in
head, which saved his life. Business at No. 60 Wall st.,
Refers to Dr. Francis.
Joseph W. Aslop.jr., cured of sprained ankle, joint
anchylosed seven months’ standing. Resides at
Eighth street, store 12 South st. Refers to Dr. Francis.
Miss Haff, cured of a palsied arm and white swelling
of the elbow, condemned to be amputated. Resides at
273 East Broadway.
Asaph Stone, cured of a sprained knee-, also his lady
of a sprained ankle. Resides at No. 107 Waverly Place.
Peter Burtsell, formerly bookseller and stationer, cor
ner of Wall and Broad streets, cured of an ossified leg.
Anchylosed joints forty years standing. Refers to Dr.
John Neilson and Commodore Chauncy, of the U. 8.
Navy. Also, his daughter of necrosis of the tibia,
accompanied by sorbftfla of ten years standing.
Miss Beck, suppressed mensis, 6 years, abandoned as
incurable by six physicians, each attending one year.
Cured in 2 months. She is now the mother of a family,
and is now Mrs. Eugene Bogert, of No. 26 Fifteenth
street.
A son of General Gilbert Hopkins, President of the
Seventh Ward Bank, white swelling of the left knee,
and disposition to be consumptive—cured. Refer to
Dr. Rogers and Gen. Hopkins, at No. 139 Henry street
More anon! JONAS HUMBERT, Jr.
M. D., A. M., and Medical Electrician,
No. 5 Bleeker street.
N. B. Please preserve this for reference, etc.
DR. TOWNSEND’S SARSAPARILLA
MOST EXTRAORDINARY MEDICINE
IN THE WORLD ! !
CpHIS EXTRACT is put up in quart bottles. It is six
A times cheaper, pleasanter, and warranted superior
to any sold. It cures diseases without vomiting, purg
ing, sickening or debilitating the patient.
The great beauty and superiority of this Sarsaparilla
over all other remedies is, while it eradicates disease ,it
invigorates the body.
IT HAS PERFORMED MORE THAN
FIFTEEN THOUSAND CURES THIS YEAR.
1000 Cures of Rheumatism.
1000 Cures of Dyspepsia.
2500 Cures of General Debility and want of nervous
energy.
3000 Female Complaints, and over.
7000 Cures of Diseases of the Blood, viz :
Ulcers, Scrofula, Erysipelas, Salt Rheum, Pimples on
the Face, &c., together with numerous cases of Con
sumption, Liver Complaint, Spinal Affections, &c. This,
we are aware, must appear incredulous, but we have
letters from physicians and our agents from all parts of
the United States, informing us of extraordinary cures.
R. Van Buskirk. Esq., one of the most respectable drug
gists in Newark, N. J., informs us that he can refer to
more than one hundred and fifty cases in that place
alone. There are thousands of cases in the city of New :
York, which we will refer to with pleasure, and to men
of character well known.
RHEUMATISM. •
MORE THAN ONE THOUSAND CASES of Chronic
Rheumatism have been cured by the use of Dr. Town
send’s Sarsaparilla.
New York, Dec. 11,1846.
To Dr. Townsend— Sir : 1 think it my duty to return
you my own sincere thanks for the benefits I have ex
perienced by the use of your Extract of Sarsaparilla. I
was afflicted for many months with rheumatic pains, and
also inflammation of the liver. The sufferings I endured
from these diseases rendered my life a burden to me. I
tried every remedy that was prescribed for me. from
three of the best physicians m the city, but without re
ceiving any permanent benefit. I considered myself
incurable, but by the advice of a friend was induced to
try your Compound. I had but faint hopes of success,
but 1 am happy to say, I had not taken more than half a
bottle before I experienced relief; this induced me to
persevere in its use, and two bottles have effected an
entire cure. It is now some months since I have used
your Remedy, and I am grateful and happy to say I
have never enjoyed better health. I shall take great
pleasure in recommending it to the afflicted, for by its
use I firmly believe my life was saved.
With the greatest respect, allow me to subscribe my
self, your grateful friend- WM. B. MORGAN,
43 Canal street, corner of Broadway.
■“ ' ■ ■CEEROYMEN AND PHYSICIANS.
As well as thousands of others in all parts of the United
States, are continually sending certificates, and inform
ing us of benefits derived from using Dr. Townsend’s
Sarsaparilla.
Dr. Townsend— Sir : Some time since you requested
my opinion ®f your Compound Syrup of Sarsaparilla ; I
am now prepared to give it. I have used it in my prac
tice, and prescribed it for the last few months, and must
give-it my decided preference over anything of the kind
witn which I am acquainted, both as to its medicinal
virtues, and the reasonable price at which you sell it.
In scrofulous aftections. cutaneous eruptions generally,
indigestion, costive habits, and liver complaints, I am
much pleased with its effects. In these complaints, or
any other where Sarsaparilla indicated, I can with con
fidence recommend it to the patronage of the profession,
as a valuable remedy for removing disease, in some of
its most troublesome forms,and to all, as a safe and valu
able medicine. BENJ. WEEKS, M. D.
Brooklyn, Nov. 21,1816.
Dr. Townsend— Dear Sir : I have, for some time past,
been afflicted with a pulmonary affection on my lungs,
and a continued pain in my side, owing to evening ex
posure in travelling after preaching. Finding my dis
ease to increase, with much difficulty of breathing and
other alarming symptoms, I was advised by a clergy
man, a friend of mine, to try your celebrated Sarsapa
rilla. I did so, and after taking two or three bottles,
found myself much stronger, and hope very soon to re
sume my usual duties. I nave been so greatly benefitt
ed by your excellent medicine, I feel it my duty to
make known the facts for the benefit of others who may
be laboring under the same difficulties that I have been
for some time past.
Respectfully yours, SAMUEL WHITE,
Pastor of the Baptist Church, Staten Island.
November 20, 1816.
GREAT FEMALE MEDICINE.
Dr. Townsend’s Sarsaparilla is a sovereign and speedy
cure for incipient Consumption. Barrenness, Leueor
rhoeaor Whites, obstructed or difficult Menstruation,
Incontinency of Urine, or involuntary discharge there
of, and for the general prostration of the system,.no mat
ter whether the result of inherent disease, or causes
produced by irregularity, illness, or accident.
Nothing can be more surprising than its invigorating
effects upon the human system. Persons, all weakness
and lassitude before taking it. at once become robust
and full of energy under its influence. It immediately
counteracts the nervelessflfess of the female frame
which is the great cause of barrenness.
It will not be expected of us, in cases of so delicate a
nature, to exhibit certificates of cures performed ; but
we can assure (he afflicted that hundreds of cases have
been reported to us. Several cases where families have
been without children, after using a few bottles of this
invaluable medicine, have been blest with healthy
offspring.
Dr. Townsend : My wife being greatly distressed by
weakness and general debility, and suffering continual
ly by pain and a sensation of bearing down, falling of
the womb, and with other difficulties, and having known
of cases where your medicine has effected great cures
and also hearing it recommended for such cases as i
have described, I obtained a bottle of your Extract of
Sarsaparilla, and followed the directions you gave me
In a short period it removed her complaints, and restor
ed her health. Being grateful for the benefit she re
ceived, I take pleasure in thus acknowledging n, and
recommending it to the public. M. D. MOORE,
corner of Grand and Lydius streets.
Albany, Aug. 17,1814.
Dr. Townsend— Sir : I have been for a time very much
out ol health—l had lost my appetite, and was very sick
i at the stomach. I was also restless at night, and troubled
during the day with drowsiness and general debility.
My husband obtained two bottles of your Extract of
Sarsaparilla, and before I had finished taking them my
appearance was much improved, SHd general health re- •
stored. I found the medicine very pleasant as well as
effective MARY PERKINS, 252 Lydius street
Albany, July 13, 1814.
„ ft?" For sale at 126 FULTON STREET, New York;
by R. & R-Van Buskirk, corner Market and Broad sts.:
Newarli, N. J.; J. C. Ingler, Sr., Paterson, N. J.; at 105
South Pearl st., Albany: Redding & Co., Boston; Backus
& Bull, Iroy; Mr. Wells, druggist, Utica; Grant &
Brooks, druggists, Poughkeepsie; Rossman & Co., Hud
son ; And’w Truax, Schenectady : Mr. Fowler, Lansin
burgh, and by principal druggists throughout the United
States, West Indies, and Canada.
None genuinepinless put up in the large quart bottles,
which contain a quart, and signed with the written
I signature of S. P. TOWNSEND, and his name blown’in
' the glass.
FINE ENGLISH & FRENCH PR I NTI N G I N KS.
The best and cheapest in the market.-
I he subscriber, having greatly enlarged and im
■ proved his establishment, and made every arrangement
1 lor the manufacture of his PRINTING INKS on the
most extensive scale, would respectfully call attention
to his establishment. Printers throughout the country
who are in want of Inks, would do well to call on him
before supplying themselves. The proprietor boldly
presents his bine and Fancy Inks to the public and chal
lenges the whole ink-making fraternity to equal them
in beauty, richness, or the excellence of the material
irom which they are manufactured. Specimens may be
seen at the office, and printers are invited to examine
them and judge for themselves. As for cheapness, his
! prices have only to be compared with those of other
manufacturers to satisfy any one. Where a SUPERIOR
ARTICLE is offered fora LESS PRICE, the subscriber
; believes that a sufficient inducement is offered to secure
i the patronage of all who use Printing Inks.
An extensive assortment of Inks oi every variety con
| stantly on hand and made to order, at short notice,
i The following are a portion of the colors, at prices
! varying according to quality :
BLACK from 16 cents to $5 per lb.
BLUE. GREEN,
CARAiINATED lakes, purple,
CELESTIAL BLUE,
YELLOW. ROSE pink,
ultra Marine, orange,
BRONZE INKS, VERMILLION,
LILAC, BROWN,
. , „ . &C., &C., &.C.
Also, Printer’s VARNISH constantly on hand and for
sale at moderate prices. Also, Lithographic Ink and
Copperplate Oil.
The subscriber would refer to the following gentle
men, who, together with many others, have used his
Inks: —
George F. Nesbitt, corner of Water and Wall streets ;
Narine & Durand, cor. Broad and Wall: Mr. Spear, cor.
Pearl and Wall sts ; B. W. Raper, 88 IVilliam it.; Mr.
Fraetas, Tribune Job Office; Geo. B. Maigno, cor. Wil
liam and Spruce
Orders sent to the office, 102 Nassau street, Room No.
10, will be punctually attended to. The subscriber is
satisfied that his Inks have only to be tried to satisfy all
oi the correctness of,his representations.
JOHN COOKE, Manufacturer,
No. 102 Nassau street.
W. APPLEGATE’S PRINTING OFFICE,
NO. 17 ANN STREET, NEW YORK
T 8 supplied with every material necessary for the
A prompt, neat, and economical execution of Letter
Press Printing. Public attention is respectfully request
ed to this establishment, in the assurance that ample
satisfaction will be given—as regards typography, press
work and charges—to those who require fancy or com
mon, largo or small work, cheaply and expeditiously
executed. Among the many advantages of this office
over every other, are the following superior presses,
which are not equalled in America or Europe, viz : the
Double Mammoth Cylinder Press, (the largest in the
world,) for immense Show Bills, Charts, &c., which can
not be done on a single sheet by any other press. The
Double Cylinder Napier Press,which prints 6000 an hour
Also, a superior Double Cylinder Press, built by L.
Napier in London. Also, an entire new Single Cylinder
Book Machine, built by R. Hoe & Co., of this city. The
Rotary Card Press prints 2000 cards an hour. Persons
havo done, are invftod to call and
PATENT EXTENSION PENHOLDER
AND PENCIL.—This is the most compact, complete,
convenient and useful pocket companion ever offered
to the public. The multiplicity of its usefulness and the
r 'r?. ss * ts s * ze renders it a perfect MULTUM IN
PAR V O.
pJ?/.- t i he 1 » S i Xort space r °, f 2 3-1 inches is contained a Pen,
Pencil, and reserve of leads, and by one motion slides
either the Pen or the Pencil out and extends the holder
to six inches, which is but little more than half the
length when shut up, of the common Penholder but
when extended is one fourth longer. This article is
secured by two patents, and the manufacturer is now
ready to receive orders for them in any quantity, either
in Gold or Silver, together with his celebrated ever
pointed Gold Pens, which need no proof of their supe
nonty except the increased demand for the last six
years, and the numerous attempts at imitation. <
A. G. BAGLEY & CO., 180 Broadway.
Lindley’s improved Patent Premium Bedsteads,
PROOF AGAINST BED BUGS,
AT GARDINER'S
CABINET AND UPHOLSTERY WAREHOUSE,
69 Gold street, 1 door from Beekman street, New York.
The undersigned would
respectfully call the at
tention of the public to
PawH tllo above invaluable arti-
ESS? cle Furniture; the great
kJ? improvement in the
■ strength and durability of
the Screw is such as to
r . .. x , , . , place them far in advance
of every thing of the kind now in use.
This improvement received the highest premiums
awarded at the late Fairs of the American institute in
October 1843-44-45, over every otner competitor.
They combine great strength and durability, fitaild
firm, are put up and taken down in one mihute, and the
joints, being so perfectly tight and secure .afford no tßsi- r
ing place for any of the nocturnal family.
The undersigned will also keep on hand other Bed
steads.—Brancne’s Patent Iron Dovetail he would rfecbffi
mend as a good article : also the well knoWn Windlass
Bedstead with sacking bottom.
Also Moody & Eastman’s Elevating Spring Bed, a most
delightful article for the comfort and repose of any <
either in sickness or health.
l he Bedsteads, and all other articles of Furniture re
quired tor the Chamber or Bedroom, such as Dressing
r e a V s j*^Y a 4sF?heSj Wash Stands, Toilet tables, Cen? *
ire and bide 1 ables, Lounges, &c., are manufactured bf
the best materials, of every variety of pattern and style,
er ' ns immediate supervision. . , , i
Feather Beds, Bolsters and Fii
°u,i. iani i, O L r ipade to order, and warranted to be
“rt AXI r c r » leathers, &-C.- as represented.
Orders from the South, hotel keepers and families.,re
spectfully solicited. Having a large manufactory’ orders
for any number can be filled at the shortest notiddJJi.
; WILLIAM C. GARDINER.
THE PATENT ELASTIC BABY JUMPER. ~
OR NURSES’ ASSISTANT.
9 A new and amusing article of -the’nur-
U sery, by which infants three months of
A age and upwards can amuse and exer-
/ \ themselves, resting as they do on a
little seat or saddle, which serves to sus
tain V ie child and give it all the support
nfcVQy required.
It is recommended by physicians as
JWLV conducive to health. To the mother it is
Jginvaluable, as she can leave her little
alone, and on her return be assured
~ *, of finding it amused and perfectly safe.
1 dr sale at No. 309 Broadway. *
GEO. W. TUTTLE, inventor and patentee.
LOOK|! READ!! »
NORTHERN HOUS£>
118 SIXTH AVENUE, CORNER OF NINTH St&EE'T.
THIS place has been very recently enlarged, rSfid
yated, and rehited. No more spacious Eating Housb
ot the kind can be found m the city. Every accommo
dation is offered to strangers to obtain a meal at all hours
of the day, and nothing that the market affords is omit
ted in the proprietors bill of fare. Look foi* yourselves.
BILL OF FARE.
Roistßeef. 6d[Chicken Pot Pife. is
Roast Lamb, 6d iCorned Beef, gd
Roast Veal, 6d Fork and Beans, 6d
Roast Pork. 6d|BeefSoup, aj
Roast Chicken, is Mutton Soup, gj
Roast Goose, is Chicken Soup, 6d
Roast Turkey, is ! Veal Pie, kH
Roast Duck, is j Meat Pie, fed
Roast Pig, is Clam Pie. fed
Boiled Ilatn, Gd'Boiled Fish, gd
DESSERT.
Plum Pudding, 6d< Apple Pie, d
Indian Pudding, 6(11 Plum Pie, d
Suet Pudding, 6d Peach Pie, fed
Bread Pudding, 6d Apple Dumplings, fefl
Rice Pudding, 6d Mince Pie, 6d
Custard Pie, 6dl
BREAKFAST AND TEA.
Beefsteak, 6diHash, nd «'
Veal Cutlets, 6d Hot Com Bread, 6d
Mutton Chops, 6d.lndian Cakes, gl
Ham and Eggs, is Boiled Eggs, f a
Fried Tripe, 6dlFried Eggs, t 4
Sausages. 6d Toast. 6 J
Fried Fish, 6d Hot Muffins, ed d
Fried Clams, 6d Hot Rolls, cd
k'V’ 6d I Tea and Coffee, 3d
Su d n S h ad ’ 6d Extra Bread. 3d
Balls, 6d'lndian Breacf, 3d
N. B.—Connected with the above establishment are . •
fine airy lodging rooms, with single bods, where people
can be accommodated at all hours with lodgings, for two
shillings. So much for Greeley. Give the subscriber a
call. J. M. GREELEY, , n
Formerly of 105 Sixth Avenue, now as abovS.
GREAT NORTH AMERICAN PANACEA
rpHIS is a purely Vegetable Medicine, arid onb of sti-
A penor efficacy, the articles of which it is cbm
pounded possess a chemical affinity, and act in harmony
with the laws of life and vitality. A good medicine re
quires no puffing, it will recommend itself, and the pub
appreciate its efficacy in all such cases for
which it is here recommended. Give it a fair trial and
yp u realize more than you anticipate. In all Gases
of Dyspepsia, Liver Complaints, Bronchitis, Rheuma
tism, Asthma, Habitual Costiveness, Salt Rheum, Affec
tions of the Kidneys, and other diseases of long standing
there is no remedy that has ever been introduced to the
American public,'that can compare with the Great
North American Panacea, in alleviating and curing thh
diseases above enumerated. The medicine is prepared* /
by a physician who has had upwards of twenty-five
years experience in the practice of medicine; it is high
ly concentrated, and requires only to be taken in small
doses to produce the desired effect. Sold wholesale and
retail by the proprietor and his agents. Depot, No. 175
Bowery, N. Y., it is put in pint bottles, with directions
signed oy the proprietor.
DR. LAPHAM can be consulted at the above
depot, where a general assortment of Botanic Medicines
can be had at all times.
SCOTTS BAZAAR, '
NO. 5 DEY STREET
SANDS SCOTT has removed to No 5 Dey street, (the
street of his former success,) and has opened a splen
did place, where he will serve up Dinners, &c., in his
old style, that gave so much satisfaction to his cufi
tomers.
A variety of hot Dinners will be given each day. irbih
12 till 3, of every description, at the old price of Ofie
Shilling, and no additional charge for small extras, as
bread, button &c.
Tho finest Liquors that can be procured are at his bar
and the host flavored Cigars.
He will be happy to see his old friends, and respect
fully solicits the patronage of the public in general.
s l? ak ?’ Chops, Cold Cuts. Poached Eggs, RarebitSiTSri;
Coffee, &c., at any timb itrltil 12 P. M.
His tables will be supplied with the best European and
all the New York papers.
WESTCHESTER HOUSE. ,
148 BOWERY, CORNER BROOME ST., N. Y.
THE Proprietors of the Westchester House, are pre
pared to make engagements for permanent or trail
sient boarders. The central location of the house..
makes it easy of access either from the rivers or by the
Harlem Rail Road passing immediately by the door
The lodging rooms are airy and comfortable ; the table
furnished liberally from the best in the market, ahdifi
addition, for those who prefer it, a Restaurant Room
with every delicacy, is open from 6 A. M. to 12 P. M-
The Bar is also stoeked with most superior Liquors and
Segars. The terms very moderate and several of the
rooms to Let without board.
C, 8. & A. M. D, MATHEWS:
SECOND WARD HOTEL,
NO. 87 NASSAU ST., NEXT TO THE SUN OFFICE.
FLOYD & SMITH, having taken the above popular
house, beg to inform their friends, and the. Old pa
trons of this establishment, as also thb travelling ifob
tion of the community generally, that they have reno
vated and re-furnished the house in a superb style—and
are prepared to accommodate all who may favor them
with their patronage, in a manner that will be satisfae
tory to all. They invite all who wish pleasant and
agreeable accommodations to give them a call. The
table is always supplied with the choicest articles thd *
market can afford. The rooms have been refitted* and
for comfort are not surpassed. The bar is stocked with
wines, liquors, &c., which is at least equal to that of
any other establishment, and segars of the choicest
brands. <
Those who wish to find a well conducted public house
will never be disappointed here. Terms moderate
Those who call once will call again.
The residents of the city can pass a pleasant hour in
company with their friends at this house.
EVERY BODY
WILL HAVE A GOOD TIME PIECE in their house ,
if they can get one at a small price. The great im
provement in clocks, called the
PATENT LEVER,
which keeps as good time as anir
CHRONOMETER,
is now offered at the same prices as the old fashioned
Yankee
CLOCK.
Every one warranted to keep time and strike the hour
correctly. Wholesale and retail by the agent of the pa
tentee. R. BLAKESLEE, Jr., 54 John st.
PERKINS' HOTEL.
JAMES H. PERKINS takes this method of informing
his friends and the public, that he has erected and
furnished in a very superior manner, the above HeTru.
on the corner of Division and Christie streets, and is
determined that it shall rank with the best His Larder
will at all times contain the choice of all delicacies thai ’
can be found in New York markets, and neither trouble
nor expense has been spared to render his Restaurant
worthy of a call.
His Bars will bo furnished with the best brands of
Wines, Liquors, and Segars.
Private Rooms for Committees, Parties, Dinners f
Slippers, &d.
Pleasant Sleeping Rooms for Gentlemen.
(E7* The Military of the city will find every conveni
ence they require at the above Hotel.
THE PHCENIX/
120 BOWERY, CORNER OF GRAND STREET.
DUNCAN & DAVIS would respectfully inform theit
friends and the public that they have taken the
house corner of Bowery and Grand, and fitted it up in
first rate style as a BAR ROOM. They have stocked
their bar with choice wines, liquors and cigars, and
trust, by using their utmost endeavors to please, to meet
a share of the public patronage.
HENRY DUNCAN,
GEORGE D. DAVlfe.
BROWN'S COFFEE AND DINING SALOON.
THE subscriber having fitted up in a splendid manne r
the store
No. 71 PEARL STREET, (Facing Coenties’ Slip,)
As a COFFEE HOUSE and DININb SALOON, would
respectfully solicit the patronage of those whom busi
ness may draw to the lower part of the city. The
proprietor having been engaged in the business for a
number of years, feels confident that those who will
favor his
NEW ESTABLISHMENT „
with a call, will find everything to their liking and en
tire satisfaction.
The place is admirably adapted to Ship Masters, Mer
chants, Clerks, and likewise fo Country Merchants, who
desire their meals in the vicinity of their business.
GEORGE BROWN, Proprietor,
Late of Lovejoy’s Hotel.
JOHNSON’S NEW DINING SALOON*
NATIONAL HALL, 31 CANAL STREET.
THE proprietor respectfully informs his friends an
the public generally, that he has opened the above
place, where he will daily serve up all the delicacies of
the season, m a style to please the most fastidious, and at
prices to correspond with the times.
~ N. B.—Private parties and gentlemen with their fami
lies visiting the city, can be accommodated with Break
last, Dinner, and Supper in Private Rooms.
Oysters in every style. OPEN ON SUNDAYS.
E. E. JOHNSON, Proprietor, Formerly of Fulton st.
VICTORIA SUPPER ROOMS.
NO. 58 LEONARD STREET,
Between West Broadway and Church street
F subscribers would respectfully inform their
A friends and the public, that they are prepared to
serve up the delicacies of the season in the choicest >
manner. Game, Oysters, ana every other article in it«T
appropriate season. They are determined to make the
VICTORIA SUPPER ROOMS celebrated for the mag
nificent manner in which they get up their Supper.
The House is always supplied with the best Ales,
Wines, Liquors, and Segars, to be found in the marke
and in short nothing shall be wanting on their part
make the place worthy the support of the public.
-WILLIAM DAYTON,
G. B. WOOLBRIDOE.
BOWLING AT THE PARTHENON, <
NO. 252 BROADWAY.
H& G. RYER would respectfully inform
• friends and the public, that they nave taken
PARTHENON BOXVLING SALOON, containing six
splendid alleys, 252 Broadway, directly opposite the
City Hall, and having fitted up the above establishment
in splendid style, we would be happy to see our ac
quaintances and the public.
HARRY & GEORGE RYE-R.
WINES, BRANDIES, TEAS, COFFFS, &c.
JOHANNISBERG & CO.j No. 118 Broadway, has al
ways on hand a choice selection of Wines, Bran
dies. Absynthe, Cordials, &c., &c., in wood, case, or
bottlo, as may suit customers. Also, Teas by the lb. or
package; Coffee, do. • ■ ...
J. & Co., havo made arrangements with Mr. KOBER i
HOPE HART, to superintend the business here.
H. J. STORMS 8c Co.,
MILITARY AND NAVAL GENERAL FURNISH
ING STORE, NO. 34 FULTON STREET.—Where
may be had every article requisite for Military and
Naval purposes, such as Hor» Equipments and Infan
try Accoutrements of every description. All styles of
Military Saddles. Bridles. Helmets, Fatigue and Fire
Caps. Light and heavy harness, suitable for all mai. -
kets, valises, carpet and saddle bags, trunks, &c. AM<
muskets, brass and iron cannon, together with the dif
ferent guages for ball cartridges, &c. Belts, flags, kna
sacks, tents and camp equipages; powder, ball, and qe
nirter shots; ship, pasting ana fire buckets, ft©-,