Sunday dispatch. [volume], April 22, 1849, Image 1

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

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VOLUME 4, NO. 21
WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR THIS PAPER.
THE ORPHAN SEAMSTRESS:
A NARRATIVE OF
Innoance anb Clßuilt, itljisterg, Cove anir (ftrime.
Being actual events which have come to light in the City of New York,
during the latter part of the year 1848 ;
BY THE AUTHOR OF THE ‘.‘MILLINER’S APPRENTICE.”
CHAPTER 11.
. THE GUILTY WIFE.
The world of fashion was shocked when it
heard that Mrs. Eustis was dead —and it,
mourned her loss, as long as it is fashionable for
fashion to mourn. Private carriages drove
up to the door, on the day following the
scene described in the opening chapter, and
elegantly dressed ladies alighted and entered
the house to speak a few words of courtly
sympathy to the bereaved husband, and drop
an artificial tear on the pale cold features of
the dead. On extraordinary occasions, such
as a sudden death, it is not vulgar to exhibit
a little feeling. Exclusive fashion, has or
pretends to have an alloy of humanity, in its
composition, and natural tears have been
seen on cheeks whose beauty was not the free
gift of nature, but rather the cunning of art.
Mr. Eustis received the visits of sympa
thising friends, and bore his part in the hol
low show with wonderful firmness. Every
body said—“ poor Mr. Eustis, what a terrible
blow! How wretched he looks I”
And Mr. Eustis’ face was the index of a
, volume of suffering and torture, which the
world knew nothing of.
Dr. Rodman was announced, and as the
servant repeated the name, a smile, faint and
sickly it is true, but the first that had lit up
that troubled face, flitted for a moment over
the rough features. Mr. Eustis felt in the
utter desolation of his life, that the terrible
secret which he had so sternly kept, im
parted to but one sympathising heart, would
relieve the bitterness of his own. And though
strange as it may appear, he elected a man
whom he had not known twenty-four hours
to be the repository of it.
The young physician entered the room,
and silently took Mr. Eustis’ hand.
“ I am glad you have come,” said the lat
ter. “ There has been no lack of visitors
here this morning, but I looked for you at an
earlier hour.”
‘•I have a number of poor patients to look
after,” returned Dr. Rodman—“ and they
have to be treated more tenderly because
they are poor. The rich man may be kept
waiting for an hour or two, but the peor suf
ferer fancies that his poverty makes the phy
sician indifferent and careless. That is some
thing that every physician should guard
against. Just now, however, I have only the
power to heal; but if I had a long list of
wealthy patients, I do not think that I could
.be tempted to neglect the sick and penni
less.”
“ The sentiment does you honor, doctor,”
said Mr. Eustis—“but come into this room,
where we may be free from interruption. I
have to tell you that which will excite your
pity and arouse all the sympathy of your gen
erous nature.”
Mr. Eustis led the way, as he spoke, into
a little room fitted up as a library, and mo
tioning the doctor to a seat, closed and locked
the door, —and then in a voice trembling
with emotion, began the revelation :
“ I had ueen married but six months, sir
six montjis of serene happiness, and a lot*
which I would not have given m exchange
for the brightest crown that ever decked a
royal brow—when the devil who was to blast
my life, dry up the young blood in my veins,
and parch and shrivel my skin, making me
old ere I had reached the golden period of
manhood —when this devil, I say, dashed
down the cup which seemed flowing with
bliss, and in its stead held wormwood to my
lips. He came in the shape of a German—
never mind his name now, I may tell it to
you hereafter—who had been engaged in
some liberalist movement at home, been de
feated and betrayed, and obliged to fly to save
his life. It was at the time, you may re
member, when the sympathies of the whole
world were aroused in behalf of Polish exiles,
who after having fought for their national in
dependence, until further contest was worse
than madness, fled beyond the reach of the
vengeful arm ot the victorious tyrant. This
German brought a letter of introduction to
rM? written by a friend then staying in Paris.
The bearer of that letter looked like a man,
a gentleman. He was I think not over thir
ty years of age —a scholar, and one who had
evidently moved in the highest ranks of Eu
ropean society. Never saw I a more expres
sive face, a nobler carriage, than his. He
brought the letter of introduction to my
counting house. I looked at the worn and
shabby habiliments of the patriotic exile, and
I took him to my heart as a brother. He was
poor, I filled his purse ; he was a stranger, I
gave him a home. At first, my wife was dis
posed to regard our new visitor as an intruder
on the peacefulness and retirement of our
happy home. I gently rebuked her for her
inhospitable sentiments, and with a smile
aisled, that to punish her, I would make our
German friend her only escort to places of
public amusement, and to those social gather
ings where we were welcome guests. At
that particular juncture, it so happened that
I was engrossed in business, having indeed
very little time to spend at home. The Ger
man was in constant attendance on my wife—
her companion at the theatre, her escort on
all occasions where the attendance of a gen
tleman is desirable. She soon ceased to re
gard his presence in my house as an annoy
ance. ‘ Our friend is very useful, and tries
hard to be agreeable,’ she said to me one day,
with a smile that masked her treachery and
ingratitude, for even then she had—but I
anticipate.”
Mr. Eustis paused in his recital, and co
vering his face with his hands, remained si
lent for several minutes. When he resum
ed, it was with a voice still more tremulous
and broken.
“ I marked it,” he began again, “ the sun
niest day in the calendar, when my wife told
me of the bright promise of maternity. I
should be a father then—should have a child
to love, to guard, to educate! My heart
swelled with gratitude and joy, and I walked
like one in a delicious reverie, through the
streets of the city, anticipating the blessing
and the happiness of the future. There was
not a ragged child that I met in my walk ;
not a beggar who held out the appealing
hand, that did not share in that short day’s
joy. Three months passed away, and then I
received a letter, without name or date, and
written evidently in a disguised hand. When
I read that letter, the blood seemed to freeze
in my veins. I sat like one in a trance, in
capable of speech or movement. How long
I remained in that state I know not. When
I recovered, the letter was clutched in my
hand. I have kept it ever since, nearly nine
years—long, long years, whose bitterness
has been unbroken. Read it, doctor, here it
is,” Mr. Eustis faltered out, as he took from
his pocket-book the fatal missive, and with a
hand that shook as with a violent ague,
passed it to his companion.
The young physician opened the note and
read as follows :
Sir: —One who loves and respects you,
with a reluctant heart, is compelled to ap
prise you of what you seem to be ignorant—
your own dishonor, and the treachery »f the
wife of your bosom. Your German friend is
the vilest ingrate that ever yet abused a ge
nerous hospitality. Enough that I open your
eyes to the terrible truth. I have reason to
belseve that I alone have discovered their
guilt. Accident revealed it to me, and I
cannot —ungracious as the duty is—l cannot
keep silent longer. Your home has been
desecrated. You press to your bosom a false
wife, and you have been betrayed by a false
friend.
“ I never could discover,” Mr. Eustis re
sumed, “ who it was that thus suddenly,
without warning, robbed me of wife and
home and happiness. ‘lt is false,’ I said—
and there was, for a single instant, a ray of
h<spe in that thought—it might be false ! I
had never dissembled before—but then I put
on a mask and went home. I have no distinct
recollection of how I reached my house. I
ran against people in the street, and gave
them a curse instead of an apology. Persons
bowed to me whom I did not know—they
stared and passed on. My head seemed to
swim round, or rather every object in the
street reeled as I walked on. At length I
reached the house, and with a terrible effort
to appear unconcerned and at ease, I entered
the drawing-room. My wife was at the
piano, and the German hung over her! The
latter manifested a little surprise at seeing
me, for it was an hour that I was rarely away
from my business; my wife ran to me and
kissed my forehead—the kiss seemed to burn
and blister my skin. To the question
whether I was ill, or if any thing serious had
occurred, to bring me home at that unusual
hour, I laughed, and replied that business of
a pressing nature called me to Baltimore, and
I had come home to pack ny valiso, and eay
good-bye for two or three days. The Ger
man cast a hurried glance at my wife, which
was as hurriedly returned. I took my trav
elling bag in my hand and left the house.
That night—”
Mr. Eustis paused again, and his companion
feared a recurrence of those fearful convul
sions, which he had witnessed the night be
fore.
“ Shall I ring for water, Mr. Eustis ?” de
manded the doctor.
Mr; Eustis shook his head.
“ That night,” he continued speaking slow
ly and with a distinctness that was itself un
natural —“ that night I sneaked like a thief
into my own house. There was a little con
servatory, which connected with the rooms
on the second floor, one of which was our
sleeping apartment. One of the windows of
the conservatory was open, and softly plac
ing the garden steps against the building, I
ascended and crept into the house. All was
still but the beating of my own heart. Pas
sing through the room in the rear of the
house, I opened the door of the pantry which
communicated with the apartment in front.
There I stopped, dizzy and almost fainting,
I was compelled to lean against the wall for
support. Arousing myself at last, I tried the
door which opened directly into my room.
It was unlocked. Another instant, and I
stood within the room. The thick heavy dra
pery of the windows had been closed to expel
the faint light of midnight, and the room was
so dark that I could not see a foot before me.
Stopping cautiously to avoid giving alarm, I
crossed the room to the toilet table, above
which I always kept a box of friction wax
tapers. I struck a light, and without turn
ing around to the bed, (I dreaded its sight!)
sought only for the. candle. It was on the
bureau, which stood against the side wall,
nearest to the door opening into the hall.
Thither I walked, not allowing, my eye to
wander, lest I should see what I shrunk to see
—and yet what came I there for.’ why was
the master of that house, treading like a rogue
its floors ? I lit the candle, and then, as a
deep, heavy, though regular breathing came
to my ears, I bowed my head on the bureau,and
felt a weight at my heart, which I thought
would stop its pulsation. For a moment I
fancied that I was dying, and I tried to mur
mur a prayer, but I could not articulate a
word. I felt that my own voice died away
in my throat, and had lost its audibleness.
And that, with the fearful stillness, unbroken
save by the deep heavy breathing I have des
cribed, and the sickness at my heart, seemed
to say to me, this is the last struggle—death
is here to relieve you! I was aroused by the
striking of the mantel-clock which told the
hour of one.
There was a sudden movement on the bed,
then the half uttered exclamation of ofie
only partially awakened, and then the tran
quil breathing of the sound sleeper. I lifted
the light, but I could not lift my feet. It was
as if they had grown to the floor. I had only
to turn my face, to advance but one step, and
my doubts would be removed, or my suspi
cions confirmed ! The mirror which re
flected my features, too truly told me of the
hell of doubt in which my soul was burning.
Now, then, I said to myself, looking steadily
in the glass, as if the horrible reflex could
brace my nerves and restore my vitality—
now then, but one effort, and all is over!
Turn, fond and doting husband, turn your
gaze to that sacred bed, and be at once
your worst fears confirmed, or that last ling
ering hope, which a love that is idolatry, has
cherished in this bitter hour, be ripened into
a blessed reality ! More like a drunken man,
I reeled as I approached the bed. A mist
came into my eyes. I could not see across
that room, which seemed illimitable in its
depths. Again and again, struggling heavily
on, and pausing at every step, I held the
light towards the bed, essaying to penetrate
the darkness, but in vain. Within a few feet
of the spot, and straining my eyes to see,
there was only the white drapery of the
couch, the elaborately adorned pillows—
nothing more ! Were the pillows unpressed ?
Was the bed tenantless.’ With a sudden
spring, a bound, I solved the mystery. I
stood at the bed-side, and holding down the
light with one hand, and with the other rub
bing the sluggard rheum from my eyes, I saw
my wife, with the smile of an angel on her
face, and her head nestling in the bosom of
the faithless German. He moved restlessly
in his sleep—and I —l, —while the smile
lingered on the face of her who had betrayed
me, fell down by the bed-side like one strick
en with palsy. The light fell from my hand
straight upon the seducer’s face. He started
up in wild alarm, and with an oath which
awoke my wife. The next instant I stood
erect, my eyes fastened on the shrinking face
of the appalled woman, my pistol leveled at
the head of her paramour !
(To be continued.)
of the Caliphs.
Almaasor, the brother and successor of
Saffah, laid the foundation of Bagdad, (A. D.
762,) the imperial seat of his posterity, du
ring a reign of five hundred years, The cho
sen spot is on the eastern bank of the Tigris,
about fifteen miles above the ruins of Mo
dain : the double wall was oi a circular form;
and such was the rapid increase of a capital
now dwindled to a provincial town, that the
funeral of a popular saint might be attended
by eight hundred thousand men and sixty
thousand women of Bagdad and the adjacent
villages. In this city of peace, amidst the
riches of the east, the Abassides soon disdain
ed the abstinence and frugality of the first
caliphs, and aspired to emulate the magnifi
cence of the Persian kings. After his wars
and buildings, Almansor left behind him in
gold and silver about thirty millions sterling;
and this treasure was exhausted in a few
years by the vices or virtues of his children.
His son Mahini, in a single pilgrimage to
Mecca, expended six millions of dinars of
gold. A pious and charitable motive may
sanctify the foundation of cisterns and cara
vanseras, which he distributed along a meas
ured road of seven hundred miles; but his
train of camels, laden with snow, could serve
only to astonish the natives of Arabia, and
to refresh the fruits and liquors of the royal
banquet. The courtiers would surely praise
the liberality of his grandson Alamson, who
gave away four-fifths of the income of a pro
vince—a sum of two millions four hundred
thousand gold dinars—before he drew his
foot from the stirrup. At the nuptials of the
same prince, a thousand pearls of the largest
size, were showered on the head of the bride,
and a lottery of lands and houses displayed
the capricious bounty of fortune. The glo
ries of the court were brightened rather than
impaired in the decline of the empire, and a
Greek ambassador might admire or pity the
magnificence of the feeble Moctader. “ The
caliph’s whole army,” says the historian Abul
feda, “ both horse and foot, was under arms,
which together, made a bodv of one hundred
and sixty thousand men. His state-officers,
the favorite slaves, stood near him in splen
did apparel, their belts glittering with gold
and gems. Near them were seven thousand
eunuchs, four thousand of them white, the
remainder black. The porters or doorkeep
ers were in number seven hundred. Barges
and boats, with the most superb decorations,
were seen swimming upon the Tigris. Nor
was the place itself less splendid, in which
were hung up thirty-eight thousand pieces
of tapestry, twelve thousand five hundred of
whicii were of silk embroidered with gold.
The carpets on the floor were twenty-two
thousand. A hundred lions were brought
out, with a keeper to each lion. Among the
nthm* spectacles of afnpanrloua lUX-
ury, was a tree of gold and silver spreading
into eighteen large branches, on which, and
on the lesser boughs, sat a variety of birds
made of the same precious metals, as well as
the leaves of the tree. While the machine
ry affected spontaneous motions, the several
birds warbled their natural harmony.—
Through this scene of magnificence, the
Greek ambassador was led by the vizier to
the foot of the caliph’s throne.” In the west,
the Ommiades of Spain supported, with
equal pomp, the title of commander of the
faithful. Three miles from Cordova, in ho
nor of his favorite sultans, the third and
greatest of the Abdalrahmans constructed
the city, palace, and gardens of Zehra
Twenty-five years, and above three millions
sterling, were employed by the founder : his
liberal taste invited the artists of Constanti
ple, the most skilful sculptors and architects
of the age ; and the buildings were sustained
or adorned by twelve hundred columns of
Spanish and African, of Greek and Italian
marble. The hall of audience was incrusted
with gold and pearls, and a great basin in the
centre was surrounded with the curious and
costly figures of birds and quadrupeds. In a
lofty pavilion of the gardens, one of these
basins and fountains, so delightful in a sultry
climate, was replenished not with water, but
with the purest quicksilver. The seraglio
of Abdalrahman, his wives, concubines, and
black eunuchs, amounted to six thousand
three hundred persons; and he was attended
to the field by a guard of twelve thousand
horse,lwhose belts and scimitars were stud
ded with gold.
In a private condition, our desires are per
petually repressed by poverty and subordina
tion ; but tne lives and labors of millions are
devoted to the service of a despotic prince,
whose laws are blindly obeyed, and whose
wishes are instantly gratified. Our imagina
tion is dazzled by the splendid picture; and
whatever may be the cool dictates of reason,
there are few among us who would obstinate
ly refuse a trial of the comforts and the cares
of royalty. It may therefore be of some use
to borrow the experience of the same Abdal
rahman, whose magnificence has perhaps ex
cited our admiration and envy, and to trans
cribe an authentic memorial which was
found in the closet of the deceased caliph.—
“ I have now reigned above fifty years in vic
tory or peace; beloved by my subjects, dread
ed by my enemies, and respected by my al
lies. Riches and honor, power and pleasure,
have waited on my call, nor does any earthly
blessing appear to have been wanting to my
felicity. In this situation I have diligently
numbered the days of pure and genuine hap
piness which have fallen to my lot: they
amount to fourteen. 0 man ! place not thy
confidence in this present world.”— Gibbon's
Works.
Anecdote of a Same Leopard.
While on the subject of wild animals, I
may mention a leopard that was kept by an
English officer at Sama rang, during our occu
pation of the Dutch colonies. This animal
had its liberty, and used to run all over the
house after its master. One morning after
breakfast, the officer was silting smoking his
hookah, with a hook in his right hand, and
a hookah snake on his left, when he felt a
slight pain in his left hand, and on attempt
ing to raise it, was checked by a low angry
growl from his pet leopard. On looking
down, he saw that the animal had been lick
ing the back of his hand, and he had by de
grees drawn a little blood. The leopard
would not allow the removal of the hand,
but cont-nued licking it with much apparent
relish, which did not much please its mas
ter, who, with great presence of mind, with
out again attempting to disturb the pet in
his proceeding, called to a servant to bring
him his pistol, with which he shot the ani
mal dead on the spot.— Davidson’s Trade
and Travel in the Far East.
Peace of XMtind.
I know of but one way of fortifying my soul
against gloomy presages and terrors of mind,
and that is, by securing to myself the friend
ship and protection of that Being who dis
poses of events, and governs futurity. He
sees at one view, the whole thread of my ex
istence, not only that part of which I have al
ready passed through, but that which runs
forward into the depths of eternity. When I
lay me down to sleep, I recommend myself to
his care; when I awake, I give myself up to
his direction.
Amidst all the evils that threaten me, I
will look up to Him for help, and question
not but He will avert them, or turn them to
my advantage. Though I know neither the
time nor the manner of the death that I am
to die, I am not at all solicitous about it; be
cause I am sure that He knows them both,
and that he will not fail to comfort and sup
port me under them. — Addison.
Taking it Coolly on a Bridal Night.
—The greatest case bridal night that we
ever read of, was that of Prince Galitzin, of
Russia, in the last century. The Prince hav
ing turned Catholic, the Czarina Anne,
among other ways of punishing him for what
she considered apostacy, condemned him to
marry a woman from among the lowest class
of the people, took ‘ the happy couple’ to the
famous Ice Palace, near the Neva, and com
pelled them to pass the night in a bed com
posed wholly of ice!
NEW YORK, SUNDAY MORNING, APRIL
The Resurrection.
Those who reject the doctrine of a material resur
rection, will find a very beautiful substitute present
ed in the following simple, but exquisite lines:
THE NATURAL AND SPIRITUAL BODY.
Born in a world of sin and death,
Soon as we draw our infant breath,
Sorrows and woes, and pains begin,
The sure inheritance of sin.
This body feels a thousand ills,
At length some sharp affliction kills ;
At once it falls, or ling’ring dies,
Bound to the grave, no more to rise.*
The spirit is of purer mould,
This never dies, this grows not old ;
Db ease it knows not, nor decay,
But lives an everlasting day.
Then welcome death’s last solemn hour,
When we shall rise with strength and power
In a substantial! body live,
And endless stores of bliss receive !
Behold the lifeless clay !
’Tis dead—to live no more:
But lo ! the man has wing’d his way
To an immortal shore.
The dust alone remains ;
The man has fled and gone,
And, loosen’d from the cumbrous chains,
A brighter form puts on.
There’s nothing lost by death,
Except mere senseless clay;
Nor is the soul a transient breath,
Like vapor blown away.
The spirit is the man
Of substance real possess’d,
With ev’ry sense and power that can
Make him for ever blest.
♦But some men will say, how are the dead raised
up 1 and with what body do they come ? Thou fool,
that which thou sowest is not quickened, except it
die : and that which thou sowest, thou sowest, NOT
THAT BODY THAT SHALL BE, but bare grain, it
may chance of wheat, or some other grain. But God
giveth it a body as it hath pleased him, and to every
seed his own body. There are also CELESTIAL BO
DIES and BODIES TERRESTRIAL, but the glory of
the Celestial is one, and the glory of the Terrestrial is
another. So also in the resurrection of the dead jit
is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorrupiion. It
is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.
THERE 18 A NATURAL BODY, AND THERE IS
A SPIRITUAL BODY.—I Cor. xv, 35, 36, 37, 38,
40, 42, 44,
fNot material.
BSTew Books.
MARDI AND A VOYAGE THITHER.—By Hermam
Melville. Two Volumes. New York. Harper &
Brothers.
Mr. Herman Melville is the most frank and
obliging author of these latter days. He
tells his readers at the outset, this is fact:
this fiction. The most extraordinary yarn
ever spun by an “ old salt” to credulous ma
rines was Types. That was Mr. Melville’s
first book and one of his facts. The second
book, equally strange and improbable, but
also a fact, was Omoo. Both these books
took wonderfully well. The London critics
said that there was a freshness about them
which was delightful. We don’t deny that
for an old salt, Mr. Melville was and is
marvelously fresh. The third work, that
before us, Mr. Melville admits to be fiction.
We are much obliged to him for saving us the
trouble of proving it so. We have not read
ten pages before we were entirely satisfied
on that point.
Fancy, if you please, a sailor spinning'off
a yarn to a gaping crowd of green horns, after
this, Caahluii. I, Melville, and my shipmate
Jarl, on board of an old tub of a whaler got
tired of “chassezing across the Line, to and.
fro in search of prey”—worse and worse when
the old man finding no luck, resolved to bob
for the right whale on the northwest coast.
Could’nt stand it, concluded to leave the ship.
Got our traps in readiness, put in our stock
of water and provisions, and one quiet night,
the ship under sail, lowered one of the whale
boats, cut the slings and were off, for Mardi.
Lots of adventures. Fell in with a Sandwich
Island craft—two persons on board—man and
Wife. More incident. Gale—craft goes down,
wife lost. Take again to the whale boat—
three persons in all—Melville, Jarl and Sa
moa. Put for Mardi. On the way fall in with
a native canoe, an old man, a priest, onboard,
with his sons, and a beautiful white girl,
who is to be sacrificed to the Mardi gods.
Kill the old man, rescue the girl, with whom
Melville falls in love (fact or fiction you must
throw in a petticoat) and put for Mardi.
Approaching one of the Islands of the group,
the natives pull up their canoes and run into
the grove. Melville dispatches Jarl and the
Sandwich Islander to open communications
with the natives and meanwhile lays off at
safe distance from the shore, he and the beau
tiful girl Yillah. After a little time Jarl and
Samoa come to the shore followed by tie
natives. Jarl calls to Melville to land with
out fear, that he has humbugged the natives hto
the belief that Melville is a god. Of cotrse
the runaway sailor pulls in, but ere his «raft
has touched ground, the natives rush int« the
water, lift the boat in their brawny arms, and
bear it into the grove, where it finds a resting
place “ in a couple of twin-like trees some
four paces apart and a little way fron the
ground conveniently crotched.” Samoa the
rascally Kanaka, now calls upon Melville
to announce himself as the god Taji, and
Melville, nothing loth, thereupon commences
his speech. We quote:—
Plucking up heart of grace, I crossed my
cutlass on my chest, and reposing my hand
on the hilt, addressed their High Mighti
nesses thus : “ Men of Mardi, I come from
the sun. When this morning it rose and
touched the wave, I pushed my shallop from
its golden beach, and hither sailed before its
level rays, lam Taji.”
More would have been added, but I paused
for the effect of my exordium.
Stepping back a pace or two, the chiefs
eagerly conversed.
Emboldened, I returned to the charge and
labored hard to impress them with just such
impressions of me and mine, as I deemed de
sirable. The gentle Yillah was a seraph
from the sun; Samoa 1 had picked off a reef
in my route from that orb ; and as for the
Shyeman, why, as his name imported, he
came from above. In a word, we weie all
strolling divinities.
Advancing toward the Chamois, one of the
kings, a Calm old man, now addressed aie as
follows: —“ Is this indeed Taji.’ he who, ac
cording to a tradition, was to return to os af
ter five thousand moons .’ But that perod is
yet unexpired. What bring’st thou hither,
then, Taji, before thy time .’ Thou wasl but
a quarrelsome demi-god, say the legends,
when thou dwelt among our sires. But
wherefore comest thou, Taji? Truly thou
wilt interfere with the worship of thy ima
ges, and we have plenty of gods besides th»e.
But comest thou to fight.’ We have plerty
of spears, and desire not thine. Comest thau
to dwell.’ Small are the houses of Mardi.
Or comest thou to fish in the sea ? Tell us,
Taji.”
Now, all this was a series of posers, hard
to be answered; furnishing a curious exam
ple, moreover, of the reception given to
etrange demi-gods when they travel without
their portmanteaus; and also of the familiar
manner in which these kings addressed the
immortals. Much I mourned that I had not
previously studied better my part, and learn
ed the precise nature of my previous exist
ence in the land.
But nothing like carrying it bravely.
“Attend. Taji comes, old man, because
it pleases him to come. And Taji will de
part when it suits him. Ask the shades of
your sires whether Taj i thus scurvily greeted
them, when they came stalking into his pre
sence in the land of spirits. No. Taji
spread the banquet. He removed their man
tles. He kindled a fire to drive away the
damp. He said not, ‘ Come you to fight, you
fogs and vapors ? come you to dwell ? or
come you to fish in the sea.’’ Go to, then,
kings of Mardi
Upon this, the old king fell back ; and his
place was supplied by a noble chief, ef a free,
frank bearing. Advancing quickly toward
the boat, he exclaimed —“ I am Media, the
son of Media. Thrice welcome, Taji. On
my island of Odo hadst thou an altar. 1
claim thee for my guest.” He then reminded
the rest that the strangers had voyaged far,
and heeded repose. And, furthermore, that
he proposed escorting them forthwith to his
own dominions; where, next day, he would
be happy to welcome all visitants.
And good as his word, he commanded his
followers to range themselves under the
Chamois. Springing out of our prow, the
Upoluan was followed by Jarl; leaving Yil
lahandTaji to be borne therein toward the
sea.
Soon we were once more afloat; by our
side, Media sociably seated ; six of the pad
dlers, perche upon the gunwale, swiftly urg
ing us over the lagoon.
The transition from the grove to the sea
was instantaneous. All seemed a dream.
The place to which we were hastening, be
ing some distance away, as we rounded isle
after isle, the extent of the Archipelago
grew upon us greatly.”
We have now got as far as the 199th page
of the first volume. The remainder of the
work is a stupid imitation of Voltaire’s “ Can
did,” Johnson’s “Rasselass,” and Swift’s
“ Gulliver.” Mr. Melville can spin a very
good yarn—but as philosopher or satirist—
faugh 1
Marshal KToy.
The acutest sorrow nrevailed throughout
the Grand Army. No hope was entertained
that the heroic and devoted Ney would be
able to find away of escape out of the snow
deserts of Old Russia. When the Emperor’s
guards, led on by himself, as he turned back
to save Eugene and Davoust, were obliged
to sustain so many terrible conflicts, and
when the army of Italy was saved only as it
were by a miracle—what hope could there
be for those yet two days in the rear, with
the enemy at their heels, in their front and
on both flanks 1 Gloom and sadness filled
every breast No one seemed even to be
grateful for his own preservation, so long as
the lion-hearted Ney—certainly the only one
adequate to such a command—struggled in
the toils of beleaguering enemies. And let
us pause here a moment, to pay a tribute to
the hero of this heroic campaign. We do
not envy the feelings of those, be they Rus
sians, or of what country they may, who can
read, without profound emotion and admira
tion, the history of Marshal Ney during the
Russian campaign, and especially during its
latter and most disastrous portion. When
those who previously ranked as the bravest
gave in—when pride for thirst and glory
were obliterated by extremity of suffering,
and by the instinct of self-preservation—
when the. soldier’s most powerful incentives,
discipline, honor and gain, were forgotten
and lost sight of, and even the iron veterans
of the Old Guard, no longer sustained by
their Emperor’s presence, renounced the
contest and lay down to die—when his fel
low-marshals, with rare exceptions, showed
weariness and discouragement, and even the
stern Davoust complained that the limits of
human suflering were exceeded —where was
Ney, what was his aspect, what his words
and actions ? In the rear of the army, a mus
ket in his hand, a smile of confidence on his
lips, the fire of his great soul and of his own
glory flashing from his eyes, he exposed his
life each minute in the day, as freely as ever
he had done when he had but life to lose, be
fore his valor had given him riches and rank,
family and fame. Surely, so long as valor is
appreciated, the name of Ney will be borne
in glorious remembrance. And surely those
men who subsequently pronounced his sen
tence of death, must since have sometimes
Alt. remorse at their share in the untimely
fate of so great a warrior. “ I have saved
my eagles 1” joyously exclaimed Napoleon,
when he learned, at two leagues from Orcha,
that Ney was safe, although he brought with
him but the ghost of his fine division : “ I
would have given three hundred millions to
avoid the loss of such a man.” What would
the Emperor have said, had he then been told
that three years later, on the 7th December,
1815, the anniversary of one of those days
when Ney so bravely breasted the Muscovite
torrent, an execution would take place in an
alley of the Luxemburg gardens, and that
there, by sentence of a French chamber, and
the bullets of French soldiers —a premature
end would be put to the glorious career of
him he had surnamed “ The Bravest of the
Brave!”— Napoleon's Invasion q/ Russia.
The Star Chamber.
The Court of the Star Chamber, so often
mentioaed in English history, was originally
the king’s privy council, but afterwards be
came a committee of it, “sitting in the star
chamber,” and there exercising important
criminal jurisdiction, and administering equi
table relief. It is mentioned as early as the
reign of Edward 111. In the third year of
Henry VII. an act was passed giving deter
minate criminal powers, extending chiefly to
state offences and misdemeanors of a public
kind, to the court of star chamber. The
judges were four high officers of state, with
power to join a bishop and a temporal lord of
the council, and two justices of the courts of
Westminster, to their number. They pro
ceeded by bill and information without the
assistance of a jury. The sittings of the pri
vy council itself, as a criminal court, were
after this gradually abandoned, and its powers
transferred to the star chamber. This court
continued to exercise very extensive juris
diction, both in political mattersand in pri
vate concerns,during the reigns of Henry VIII.
and his successors, until it was finally dis
solved fa the reign of Charles I.
The sar chamber may be considered as the
focus of Charles’ despotism. From hence is
sued all the extortionate loans and levies
which etded in the great civil war. So fright
ful in thi end did it become, that its name in
fused teiror, and to be “star-chambered,”
was applnd as a term indicative of the severest
and cruehst infliction of semi-legal tyranny.
In this coirt were men summoned by extra
judicial rijht, fined mercilessly and extrava
gantly, braided as felons, their noses slit, and
ears cut off. for acts and words less strong than
many in us daily by the press at the present
time. Thestar chamber stood on the eastern
side of Nev Palace Yard, and was originally
a portion of the royal palace. It obtained the
name Camera Stellata, from the walls or
ceiling hiving been ornamented with stars;
but the building in use for the meetings of
this cent from the end of the reign of Eliza
beth until the abolition in 1641, although pro
bably built on the site of the elder-chamber,
was cvidertly of the Elizabethan era, as the
letters E. 1 and the dale of 1602 appeared
over one of the doorways. It was pulled
down in 1836, for the erection of the new
Houses of Parliament.
Why "Sou Can’t go to California
in a Balloon.
Professor Mapes has been lecturing before
the Jersey City folks, explaining why the air
line to Cilifornia cannot succeed. The rea
son consists in the nature of hydrogen gas,
which is a fluid so subtle, that no substance,
except a vitrified surface, has yet been found
capable of confining it. Thus hydrogen
makes its way through the walls of a house
as easily as if nothing intervened. This pro
cess of the escape of the gas goes on at a rapid
rate, even while the balloon is floating with
the wind ; but if you oppose the motion of
the balbon to the direction of the wind, the
escape cf the gas becomes accelerated from
the increased pressure. This is a formidable
difficulty to steering the balloon.
IjtJ* The laws of Russia, with regard to
careless driving, are worthy of imitation in
our own country. Whoever runs down a
person by rapid driving, forfeits the vehicle
and horses. The present Emperor was
riding in his carriage some time since, when
the driver accidentally run over a drunken
man in the street. His Majesty immediately
had the carriage driven to a magistrate’s, and
gave up the vehicle and horses to be sold,
and the proceeds applied to some charitable
purpose.
“Father, what does the printer live
on ?”
“ Why, child?”
“ Because, you said you hadn’t paid him for
two years, and you still take the paper.”
“ Wife, pul that child to bed; he’s an
everlasting talker.”
Practical.—We once heard of a preacher
who was called upon by some of his congre
gation to pray for rain, of which the crops
stood greatly in need. His reply was that
he would pray if his congregation desired it,
but he was very sure it would not rain until
the wind shifted. ..
Political Corruption.—lt is now known,
says Macaulay, that when Sir Robert Wal
pole’s parliamentary supporters were invited
to his ministerial dinner, each of them found
a £SOO note under his napkin.
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111
STREET MINSTRELS.
We cast from our sympathies more than
one half of these wandering street minstrels.
Many of them are rogues who. would as soon
plunder a house, as amuse its inmates with
the “ monkey-shines” of their apes, and the
barrels of their organs. Others are stout,
lusty fellows, who would do first rate service
on a farm, turning up the soil, scattering the
seed, pulling up rank weeds, and gathering a
goodly harvest.
But now and then, it so happens in our
walks about town, that u-ft fall jp with a dark
brunette, turning the crank of her little or
gan, and a younger brunette, only a little
less dark, thrumming the tamborine in pret
ty accompaniment, ever and anon turning it
up to catch the pennies of the passers-by. :
And then, despite our colder nature, we
go back to the warm sun which smiled upon, >
and the generous earth which nourished, ’
these wandering minstrels of the street. Many
the curses, few the pennies they receive. Yet
as if missioned to carry some sweet simple
strain to the hearts of childhood, causing
wrtiiMwyiiinwiißUnwiir- 111—mnwr niwiiiiiwiTWMßma»mif wim
titled Ruffians.
A book has just been issued in London,
which gives us an account of the drunken
frolics and ruffianism of titled cut-throats only
a century or two ago. We make one extract
as a specimen :
Sir Charles Pym of Brymmore, Somerset
shire, lost his life, after a dinner at the Swan,
upon Fish Street Hill; his decease extin
guishing the baronetcy, and terminating the
male line of an ancient and honorable house.
The cause of quarrel was trivial in the ex
treme —a very dog’s quarrel, it may be called,
for the whole ground of dispute was a plate
of meat. However fashionable a house of
entertainment the Swan upon Fish Street
Hill may in those days have been deemed, its
larder seems to have been conducted upon a
most economical scale; for on the trial, a Mr.
Mirriday deposed that, upon going there to
dine in company with Sir Charles and other
gentlemen, and asking for meat, they were
told they might have fish, but there was no
meat eave what was bespoke by Mr. Rowland
Walters, a person of station and family, who
was dining with some friends in another
room. The evidence on the trial, which is
given at length, is curious as a quaint illus
tration of the manners of the time. “He
desired him (the tavern-keeper) to help us to
a plate of it, if it might be got, which be had
brought up stairs; after dinner we drank the
gentlemen’s health that sent it, and returned
them thanks for it. A little while after, Sir
Thomas Middleton went away, and about an
hour after that, or thereabouts, Sir Charles
Pym and the rest of us came down to go
away; and when we were in the entry, Mr.
Cave met us, and asked Sir Charles how he
liked the beef that was sent up —who an
swered, we did not know you sent it, for we
have paid for it: then the boy that kept the
bar told us that he did not reckon it in the
bill; upon which Mr. Cave seemed to take it
ill; but, my lord, I cannotthe positive whether
Mr. Bradshaw and Mr. Palms were at any
words. Then I took Mr. Cave to one side
into the entry, and he thought that I had a
mind to fight him, but I did what I could to
make an end of the quarrel. [Upon which
the court highly commended Mr. Mirriday.]”
The quarrel continued, however, and Sir
Charles Pym was run through the body by
Mr. Walters, “ and fell down crinkling (writh
ing) immediately,” deposed a Mr. Fletcher,
who saw the fight. It was urged in extenua
tion, that Sir Charles had previously run
Walters eight inches into the thigh. “ ‘ Pray,
my lord,’ said Walters, ‘let Sir Charles’
sword be seen, all blood.’ [But that gave no
satisfaction on either side.]” So much malice
was shown, that the jury would fain have re
turned a verdict ef wilful mulder; but Jus
tice Allibone overruled their wish, and laid
down the law, and they brought it in man
slaughter. The sentence is not given; but
such offences were then very leniently looked
upon, and it is not likely to have been severe.
Seduction and its Reward.
We learn from St. Charles County, that a
few days since, Mr. James Green, a farmer
residing about seven miles .from the town of
St. Charles, having good reason to suspect
that a man who has held the office of Deputy
Sheriff of that county for some time, and
whose name is Bellsterling, had been success
ful in seducing his eldest daughter, deter
mined, so soon as the fact came to his know
ledge to punish him as his crime deserved.
Accordingly, accompanied by two or three of
his neighbors, he started on the morning of
the 21st inst, for Dardenne Prairie, the place
of residence of the seducer, and when about
a mile from the house at which he boarded,
they met him on his way to St. Charles, arm
ed, and, as he expressed it, prepared for any
emergency. Green, and those who were with
him, had concluded, that if he would consent
to marry the girl they would spare his life,
and after more than half an hour’s conversa
tion between the parties, in the course of
which, it is said, tiie seducer used the most
insulting language ; and when finally asked if
he would consent to the proposed marriage,
he most positively declined. Thereupon, the
enraged father drew a pistol and shot him
from his horse. The shot took effect in the
left breast, but by coming in contact with a
bone, or from the slanting position of the fire,
the ball took a circular direction and escaped
below the point of the shoulder blade, and
without reaching the cavity of the chest. The
wound bled profusely, and was believed at
the time to be mortal, but after he was assist
ed to a house at a short distance, and a physi
cian sent for, the ball was found to have taken
the course described, and although severely
hurt, it is thought he will recover.— St. Louis
Repub.
“To Err k Human.” —A clergyman
having indulged too freely in filling up his
glass, went one Sabbath into the pulpit and
having given out a hymn to his congregation,
sat down: the melody of the sacred song
soon lulled him to sleep, and he continued
for some time to play a treble bass symphony
with his nose. At length one of the deacons
ascended to the desk, and told him the
hymn was out.
“Well,” said he, “fill it up again.”
Judge Buller’s Caution. —Judge Buller,
when in the company of a young gentleman
of sixteen, cautioned him against being led
astray, by the example or persuasion of others
and —“ If I had listened to the advice of
some of those who called themselves my
friends when I was young, instead of being a
Judge of the King’s Bench, I should have
died long ago a prisoner in the King’s Bench.”
00- A man with eleven daughters was late
ly complaining that he found it hard to live.
“ You must husband your time,” said the
other, “ and then you will do well enough.”
“ I could do much better if I could husband
my daughters,” said he.
them to throb with bright, beautiful longings
—the heartily cursed, the scantily pensioned
wanderers plod on their weary way. Can
the grave philosopher tell what the infant,
but two months old, with its intensely star
ing, yet seemingly expressionless eyes, ga.
thers from the music of the street 1 The
nurse, obedient to the command of her mis
tress, throws the itinerant a penny, and she
passes on. But see! the new-born babe
smiles —there are dimples in its cheeks, its
little eyebrows curve, and the lines around
tne mouth —Hues deepened and broadened by
care in maturer age, now glow with the sun
shine.of the first impulse of happiness ! The
first drop of honey has been stored in the
comb there has gone home to that young
heart, there to be fixed, an indelible impress,
the first picture of beauty, to nestle and
grow to bud and blossom!
Have we aroused the kindlier sympathies
of the reader ? _lf so, when you meet them,
bestow a kindly smile, and a few of St. Pe
ter’s pence upon our Street Minstrels.
Ralaces and Churches of Genoa.
In Genoa there are two palaces, oirginally
belonging to the Durazzo family. That on the
Strada Balbi, now a royal mansion, has a
front of 250 feet in length ; a court rich in
architectural embellishments, and a famous
gallery 100 feet long, ornamented with fres
coes, and containing a curious collection of
statues and sculptures, ancient and modern,
numerous portraits of the Durazzi, historical
paintings, and others, by Carlo qplci, Titian,
Vandycfie, A. Durer, Holbein, &c. In another
apartment, is the chief d’ oeuvre of Paul Ve
ronese, “ Mary Magdalene at the feet of our
Saviour.” The other Durazzo palaee is
scarcely less rich ; its gallery contains some
fine works by P. Veronese, L. and A. Caracci,
Guercino, Titian, Dominichino, Guido, Reu
bens, &.c. The ancient palace bf the Doges
was almost wholly destroyed by fire in 1777;
but the modern building on its site is a fine
structure, and contains the City Council Hail,
125 feet by 45, and 66 feet high. The Serra,
Spinola, Balbi, Brignole, Carega, Mari, and
Pallavicini, are among the most remarkable of
the other palaces. The finest of the churches
is that of the Annunziata, founded in the
13th century. It contains some good paint
ings. The cathedral of St. Lorenzo, built in
the 11th century, is of Gothic architecture;
its exterior is cased with black and white
marble, in alternate horizontal stripes. The
cathedral of St. Cairo is very ancient; that of
St. Stephano has a famous altar-piece, the
joint work of Raphael and Julio Romano.—
The church of San Filippo Jiferi, and the
chapel ot the Carmelite nuns, are both great
ly admired for their chaste style. The church
of Santa Maria Carignano, also in the best
taste, was erected by one of the princely
citizens of Genoa, whose son, in the 16th
century, united two elevated parts of the
town by a bridge, the pointe di Carignano,
100 feet in height, and which passes, with
three giant strides, over houses six stories
high, that do not come up to the spring of tbe
arches. There are altogether thirty-two
parish churches, sixty-nine convents and
monasteries, and three large hospitals richly
endowed ; the principal of which, the Abergo
di Poveri, is a large quadrangular edifice im
mediately north of the inner city walls. In
this institution 1,500 or l,6ooorphansand old
people are provided for. This building con
tains numerous busts and statues ot its bene
factors, and « “ Dead Christ,” in alto relievo,
by Michael Angelo; probably the finest piece
of sculpture in Genoa. Among the other
public buildings, are the exchange, the old
bank of St. George, and one of the three
theatres, Carlo Felice, recently built. The
opera in Genoa is indifferent. The universi
ty, in the Stradi Balbi, is a fine edifice, and
has alarge library and botanic garden. Around
the port is a rampart, affording an excellent
promenade. On the north side of the harbor
is the Darsena, a double basin, enclosed, by
piers, and destined for a refitting dock; ad
joining it is the arsenal.
80- We have a sort of veneration for men
of genius, consequently our feelings expand
toward that whilom “ deer stealer,” Wil
liam Shakspeare.—There is a statue of him
in a certain blackened niche in Park Row,
which, as no philanthropic committee will
take it down, and preserve it from the rava
ges of time and bail gas, we have concluded
to embalm —or rather the aforesaid bard
whom it represents—in a sonnet:
Most noble Shakspere! who hast sung and said
Such goodly things as men can ne’er forget,
Though dead in flesh, thy spirit undecayed
Doth walk abroad, and lives and conquers yet.
Thou greatest bard ! thou bravest-thoughted man
Which time hath given, to teach all other men,
Thy name and fame already have outran
Fame’s furthest goal—and yet, to those who ken,
Thou hast but started on the immortal course,
Up ! onward still, with swift undying force,
Thy glory pants—we wistful watchers gaze
With awe andjoy to see thee mount so high,
Waving thy pinions in God’s boundless sky,
Leaving old earth in splendor and amaze.
Tomb of Virgil.—Near the grotto of Pau
silippo are the ruins of an aqueduct and what
is called Virgil’s tomb. It is partly covered
with ivy, fig trees, and brambles, which have
taken root here, and on the top of it is a laurel
tree which eeems to crown it. The mauso
leum, on the inside, is about 18 feet square,
and 13 or 14 feet high from the floor to the
top of the roof. The ruins of this mausoleum
are very picturesqe The whole hill is cover
ed with country seats and gardens for summer
resort, being protected from the hot wind of
the south and west.
00- The person we love is always more
esteemed than he deserves ; the person we do
not love, we always esteem the’ least it is in
our power; we even seek to despise him, and
for ordinary succeed in it. At first, that con
tempt is not sincere; but insensibly it be
comes more so; and at last we grow to hate
in good earnest, to despise an estimable per
son against whom we have some cause of
hatred: if, however, we are forced to esteem
him, we hate him the more for that.
A Novel Reason.—Latour Maubourg lost
his leg at the battle of Leipsic. After he had
suffered amputation with the greatest courage,
be saw his servant crying, or pretending to
cry, in the corner of the room. “None of
your hypocritical tears, you idle dog,” said
the master, “ you know you are very glad, for
now you will have only one boot to clean in
stead of two”
00- Those who sit still and wait for the tide
of misfortune or the current of adverse cir
cumstances to flow away, are like the fool
sitting on the bank of a river, waiting for the
water to flow away that he might cross over !
That man ajone is truly wise who bravely
meets and stems both; and he will generally
succeed in overcoming them, and arriving
successfully at the end of his pursuits.
An Awful Pause.—Atter a clergyman
had united a happy pair, an awful silence
ensued, which was broken by an impertinent
youth exclaiming, “ Don’t be unspeakable
happy!”
Snow Crystals.
Snow, examined with the aid of a micros
cope, exhibits structures of exquisite beauty,
regularity, and endless variety, though it
sometimes presents no peculiarity of form,
but falls in very minute globular particles.—
Commonly a snow-flake consists of a series of
crystals formed independently in the upper
regions of the air. These are united in groups
while descending through the atmosphere, by
agitations striking them against each other.
The flickering and gradual descent of the
flakes is owing to their great extent of sur
face in comparison with their volume. A
number of brilliant icy spicules, or points
diverging from a common centre, resembling
stars having so many rays, apparently wrought
with the nicest art, is the usual form ot the
crystals, which are for the most part hexago
nal,presenting a nucleus with six divergences.
This stelliform shape is the erdinary appear
ance of snow.
Dr. E. D. Clarke, speaking of the breaking
up of the winter season at St. Petersburg, re
marks : “ Snow, in the most regular and beau
tiful crystals, fell gently on our clothes, and on
the sledge, as we were driving through the
streets; all of them possessed exactly the
same figure, and the same dimensions. Every
particle consisted of a wheel or star, with six
equal rays, bounded by circumferences of
equal diameters; they had all of them the
same number of rays branching from a com
mon centre. The size of each of these little
stars was equal to the circle presented by
dividing a pea into two equal parts. This
appearance continued during three hours, in
which time no other snow fell, and there was
sufficient leisure to examine them with the
strictest attention.” A microscope applied to
a flake of snow will unfold this mode of
structure, as well as other varieties in our cli
mate ; but it is in the polar regions that snow
assumes its most beautiful and varied forms.
Scoresby has figured ninety-six varieties, dis
tributed into classes of lamellar, spicular, and
pyramidal crystals. Upon examining some
snow which fell at Yverdon in Switzerland,
in 1829 and 1830, M. Huber Burnand found
its crystals to consist of stellar plates with six
rays, along each of which filaments were dis
posed after the form of feathers, and these
also had finer filaments similarly arranged.
He observed that in the former year almost
every day the crystals presented a new variety
of shape, sometimes resembling parallel fil
lets, leaves, and spines, with a rosette termi
nation. .
Gaeta.
The following description of Gaeta, the
residence of Pope Pius Ninth, to which he
fled after his expulsion from the Eternal City,
cannot at the present fail to interest:—
Gaeta is irregularly built, its streets are
narrow and steep ; those in the city are, how
ever, greatly inferior to those in the suburbs.
It has a cathedral, with a fine tower, con
structed by the emperor Frederick Barbarossa;
nine other churches, several convents, a pub
lic seminary, hospital, and foundling asylum.
On the isthmus connecting the citadel with
the main land, stands the Torre d’ Orlando,
originally the tomb of Plancus; and near the
suburb of Castellone is the Tower of Cicero.
Its port, though not the largest, is one of the
safest and best in Italy. This city is the seat
of a bishopric, under the immediate superin
tendence of the pope. It is the centre of a
considerable trade. Its neighborhood is ex
tremely beautiful, and covered with villas and
country houses. Gaeta is very ancient. Virgil
says it derived its name from the nurse of
jEneas buried in it.
It became the residence of many opulent
patricians of Rome, and Cicero was put to
death by order of Antony, in its immediate
vicinity. Alter the fall of the western em
pire, it had a republican form of government,
at the head of which, however, was placed a
duke, acknowledging the temporal supremacy
of the Pope. In 1435, it was taken by Al
phonso V., of Arrago; and since then has
belonged to the crown of Naples. In modern
times it has been repeatedly besieged; the
last siege of any great note was in 1806, when
it fell into the hands of the French. It, how
ever, held out against the Austrians for some
time, both in 1815 and 1821.
Memory of the Dead.
How sacred the history of tbs dead ! We
will not, cannot forget those whose affections
were early entwined around our hearts in the
holy bonds of friendship. They may have
died on a foreign shore, far from home and
friends, with no kindred spirit upon whom
tbey might have cast a farewell look, ere they
entered into a heavenly world ; but they still
live in our hearts. When we visit our fami
liar retreats, and meet not their smiling faces,
we think of them—we think of them, too, at
the calm twilight hour, and at bright, smiling
morn, their image is not forgotten. The
stranger may lightly pass over the grassy
mound which covers them —it will not dis
turb their repose. Their’s is a rest which
none will disturb. Calm be their sleep—and
though recollections of them may cause the
tear-drop to fall, we will not call them back
from their noble pure home, to again mingle
with the vanities of earth, and again meet its
trials. We still silently look upon the earth
that covers them—we will there plant the
evergreen and thornless rose, as a parting tri
bute to their memory, and then leave the spot
—perhaps forever, but while life and reason
last we will think of them—cherish their
memory as a choice plant. True, indeed,
they have mingled their once lovely forms
with the dust among the rich and poor, the
virtuous and virious, but the immortal spark
within is transplanted to a fairer clime—even
Paradise, the home of angels.
They are gone—gone from us, but we che
rish their remembrance, and forget them net
in our daily walks through life. They are
transplanted to a brighter land, while love
casts a fadeless garland upon the green turf
which covers them.— Boston Sun.
CChe Vouth of Christ.
A youth appears “ sitting in the midst of
the doctors, both hearing them and asking
them qiieationfl. AU that heard him
astonished at his understanding and answers.”
He comes into the assembly of venerable sages
with a mild and pensive countenance, that
seems haunted with earnest thought. He is
no favorite of earthly fortune, no scion of
aristocratic pride, no pet of exclusive schools,
but the simple child of the unsophisticated
people, steeped to the lips in suffering; and
yet, mightier than the domes that bend above
him, he is for the intellect and heart of man
a glorious living temple, built with the choic
est riches of unnumbered worlds. The first
question he propounds startles the attention
of all who hear him, and creates the greatest
astonishment in the most profound, for his
words bear that charm of immaculate wisdom
that can neither be defaced nor excelled
Question succeeds to question, and learning,
in despair, grows more and more confused in
this, the grandest gladitorship of mind yet
witnessed on earth. Sage after sage, swelling
with wounded pride, is silenced before that
youth appareled in the plain attire of a peas
ant life, radiant with the celestial life that
emanates from an aspiring heart, and bent on
throwing wide open the gates of instruction
to all. The whole park of artillery which
power and craft have erected on their con
tracted citadels he has spiked, and like “ a
mailed angel on a battle day,” he rejoices in
triumph, not for himself, but for the sake
of the benighted multitudes around. Free
thought and free discussion then and there
were born! —Western Quarterly Review.
The Importance of One Vote —At an
election for Judge of the polls in the Carbon
district, Schuylkill county, Pa., Mr. Joseph
George received one vote, and there being no
other all day, he was declared duly elected.
It is suggested that the vote cast for Mr.
Joseph George, was cast by Mr. Joseph
George.
Extraordinary.—Mr. Jonathan Essick,
of West Nantmeal, Chester county, (Pa.,)
has a cow in his possession, which has had
six calves within two years; and what is
most remarkable, five of them have lived, and
the cow is doing well.
(j@- In the formation of a single locomotive
steam engine there are not less than five
thousand four hundred and sixteen pieces to
be put together, and these require to be as
accurately adjusted as the works of a watch.
30- Let him who expects one class in so
ciety to prosper to the highest degree, while
the others are in distress, “ Let him,” as old
Fuller says, “ try whether one side of his
face can smile while the other is pinched. 1 *
PRICE THREE CENTS.
Sir Astley Cooper.
Sir Astley Cooper died in his seventy-third
year on the 12th of February 1841—that is,
upwards of eight years ago—and with him was
extinguished a great light of the age. He
was a thorough Englishman: his character
being pre-eminently distinguished by simpli
city, courage, goodnature and generosity. He
was very straightforward, and of wonderful
determination. His name will always be
mentioned with the respect due to signal per
sonal merit, as that of a truly illustrious
surgeon and anatomist, devoting the whole
powers of his mind and body, with a constancy
and enthusiasm which never once flagged, to
the advancement of his noble and beneficent
profession. His personal exertions and sacri
fices in the pursuit of science,.were almost
unprecedented; but he knew that they were
producing results permanently benefiting his
fellow-creatures, at the same time that he
must have felt a natural exultation at the pre
eminence which they were securing to him
self over all his rivals and contemporaries,
both at home and abroad, and the prospect of
his name being transmitted witli honor to
posterity. What an amount of relief from
suffering he secured to others in his lifetime I
not merely by his own masterly personal ex
ertions, but by skilfully training many thou
sands of others (“ Sir Astley Cooper has, on
one occasion, stated, in his memoranda, that
he had educated eight thousand surgeons!”)
to — go, and do likewise, furnished by him
with the principles of sound and enlightened
surgical, anatomical, and physiological know
ledge ! And these principles he has embodied
in his admirable writings, to train succeed
ing generations of surgeons, so as to assuage
agony, and avert the sacrifice of life and limb.
Let any one turn from this aspect of his
character, and look at him in a personal and
social point of view, and Sir Astley Cooper
will be found in all the varied relations of
life—in its most difficult positions, in the
face of every temptation—uniformly amiable,
honorable, high-spirited, and of irreproach
able morals. His manners fascinated all who
came in contact with him; and his personal
advantages were very great: tall, well pro
portioned, of graceful carriage, of a presence
unspeakably assuring— with very handsome
features, wearing ever a winning expression;
of manners bland and courtly—without a
tinge of sycophancy or affectation—the same to
monarch, noble, peasant —in the hospital, the
hovel, the castle, the palace. He was a pa
tient, devoted teacher, during the time he was
almost overpowered by the multiplicity of his
harassing and lucrative professional engage
ments 1 Such was Sir Astley Cooper—a man.
whose memory is surely entitled to the best
exertions of the ablest of biographers.—Black
wood.
Ancient Sarthen Ware.
The art of moulding earthen vessels, either
for domestic use, funeral purposes, or for or
nament, seems to have been practised in an
early age of the world, by the rudest nations
equally with the more civilized. Undoubt
edly this manufacture was carried to great
perfection by the Egyptians, many of whose
designs appear not only in the particular ob
jects themselves, but are of frequent occur
rence in their monuments.
Professor Fairholt establishes the claims of
this early nation to the highest standard of ci
vilized life. “Itis a remarkable fact,” con
tinues the same writer, “ that the governing
principle of art, in early ages, was purity and
simple elegance, and that exceptions to this
rule were rare. It is only in the more mo
dern times that we find bizarre forms, and
quaint, overloaded ornament, applied to arti
cles of use and luxury, as if the necessity for
novelty could only be satisfied by revelling
in the monstrous and the absurd.”
It was reserved for the Etruscans, however,
to reach the highest excellence in this beauti
ful art. These people were the inhabitants of
Etruria, now Tuscany, and were at the height
of their glory at the time of the building of
Rome. Their government is said to have
served as a model to the Romans, but Etruria
finally fell a victim to Roman ambition. The
Etruscan vases are celebrated the world over,
and specimens have been collected with great
care and diligence by European artists and
virtuosos.
The Greeks and Romans excelled in the or
namental portions of this art, and in correct
ness and beauty of outline, though they pro
bably did not surpass the Etrurians, from
whom they derived most of their knowledge.
It is supposed that the Britons understood the
potter’s art, previously to the entranee of the
Romans into the island, from the circumstance
of urns of earthenware being constantly found
in burrows which have been opened in vari
ous parts of the kingdom.
“In countries recently discovered,” says a
writer in the Art Union, “the use of earthen
vessels has been found among a people other
wise unacquainted with the arts of civilized
life; as, for instance, among the aboriginal In
dians on the Mosquito shore,who were known
to possess vases evidently of the ancient man
ufacture of the place; the remains of very old
potteries being discovered at a considerable
distance up the Black river on that coast. So,
also, in the United States, fragments of pot
tery made by the native Indians have repeat
edly been found.”
Hints to the Ziearned.
In the famous convent near Chalons in
France, where the unhappy Abelard fell a
sacrifice to the love of the fair Heloise, there
is a folio containing representations of the
British monasteries about the middle of the
fifteenth century, or about 1450, wherein a
gentleman informed me he had seen some of
our Scottish convents represented as they
were when entire.
: The present state of France is favorable to
the dispersion of these curious monuments of
antiquity, which ought to be bought, if they
shall come to sale, for public libraries in oth
er parts of Europe, that they may not run the
risk of going to the cartridge pouch.
These conventual libraries may contain re
mains of the Greek and Roman classics, hi
therto inedited, and they ought to be looked
for. Mons, de Peirese of Aix, in Provence,
was the last of the successors of Petrarcha
wh-> diligently sought for the inedited clas
sics in conventual libraries, and he was suc
cessful in obtaining some of them in Germany.
Fragments of the Decade, nt Livy were
found not very long ago on battle-doors for
shuttle-cock!
Many fine things were lost at the Reforma
tion in England, and probably many valuable
MSS. afterwards went to the snuff-shops,
when James I. of England was publishing his
silly blast against tobacco. 0, what a blast
of tobacco, if copies of the immortal Livy or
Polybius have gone to wrap up that wretched
poison!
Spain certainly contains many valuable re
mains of literature, Greek and Roman, in its
provincial convents, that ought to be dili
gently explored.
It would be humane and noble if the King
of the Two Sicilies would permit foreign po
tentates and foreign societies to employ poor
learned brethren to unfold these interesting
volumes, which would prove a comfortable
aid to these unfortunate men, who see the
church crumbling under their eyes all over
Europe. The volumes should be all partially
unfolded to know and taste their merit and
importance, before the immense labor of re
covering them should be attempted.
The Vatican library and Castle of St. An
gelo contains treasures of historical and clas
sical knowledge hitherto unimagined, and
which might be obtained, the Provisional Go
vernment of Rome having offered them for
sale.
0Q- Judge not from circumstances. Speak
not against a man’s character without a tho
rough investigation. An intimation that a
neighbor has deceived you, or has cheated an
other, may half ruin him. After you have
traduced his character, and then ascertained
your mistake, it is impossible to undo the in
jury produced. An ill report spreads like
wildfire. Be exceedingly careful, then, how
you condemn the course of another, without
positive evidence of his knavery or dishonesty.
Beauty attracts us men, but if, like an
armed magnet, it is pointed with gold or sil
ver beside, it attracts with ten-fold power.—
Jean Paul.
A Kentucky Rat. —A young lady resid
ing in Louisville, while asleep a few nights
since, was awakened by a ferocious rat biting
a piece out of one of her cheeks.
()ty- Affection, like spring flowers, breaks
through the most frozen soil at last, and the
heart which asks but another heart to make
it happy, will never seek in vain,