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WASHINGTON, MONDAY AFTERNOON, JANUARY 8, 1863. PROSPECTUS OF THE DAILY evening star. Xhc undersigned propose3 to publish, so as a sufficient number of subscribers -?ill bave been obtained to justify the un der taking, a daily nfteruocu pnper, to b* -alleJ "Tbe Daily Evening Star." *'Tbe Star" is designed to bupply aMe .jeratum which has long- existed at the Metropolis of the nation. Free from party (raamels and sectarian influences, it will preserve a strict neutrality, an I, whilst Maintaining a fearless spirit of independen ?ience will be devoted, ia an especial man Qtr, to the local interests of tho beautiful ,-itv which bears the honored name of Wash ? icgton, and to the welfare and happiness of iae large and growing population within its borders. To develop tho resources of the Metropolis?to increase and facilitate its ^ercautile operations?to foster and en c nrage its industrial pursuits?to stimulate iti business and trade?to accelerate its progresbin the march to power and great ness?these shall be the main objects of the paper "The Star" will also beam forth intelli gence from all sections of the country, by telegraph and mail, r.nd give it in a form so condensed as not to render it necessary to ait a bushel of ohaff before finding a grain of trbeat. The articles, editorial and select ed, wid ba brief, varied, and sprightly. No thing shall be admitted into it3 columns of fensive to any religious sect or political par ty?nothing. in a moral point of view, to which even the most fastidious might object. It is th6 determination of th6 publisher to make it a paper which will be a welcome vi siter to every family, and one which may be perused not only vith pleasure, but -with profit. Ths editorial department will be under the Section of a gentleman of ability and tact. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION : 3ub3criber3 served by the carriers at sis :ents a week, payable weekly. To mail sub icribers $4 a year; $2 for six months: TERMS or ADVERTISING. In erder to prevent persons having but a :'?* lines to advertise paying an extravagant r*ts, the following schedule will be adopted: For sit line? or less. Jj For twelve lines or lee?. Insertion. ..$0.25 1 insertion.... 10.50 S7>? 2 ? 75 4 50 ; 3 " 1.00 1 . 75 1 .. 150 s 14 1.00 l! 2 " 2.00 * |; 1.50 j 3 " 2.50 4 ' 2.00 If 4 * 3.00 JOSEPH B. TATE. ttlvrK&HICS' BAKE, GEOBGETOWU. THIS INSTITUTION is now doing a General Bank ing Bu?it?*. f.ffloe under the Union Hote ,cor c#r SriJA-e and Washincton street*. Georgetown, (D. C ) ?hers its noter will be redeemed in specie. F. W CoJfCH, Cashisr. Qeoxastow*, (D. C.) 1852. 4 N ARRIVAL at BROWN'S HOTEL. A. Just r? tiv=d from ih? manufactory of Wm. L. Hcwulsy, of Bal timer o? Oae ca?? or Patent Cork-Fole Boots Oas ca-s of Double-Sole Boom Ono rase Dre.-e Beets for sale at the t achiohable Boot Btore of il*: 4 J. MILLS. rUI.SAM S MONTHLY. THE 3UB3CitIBSHfl, responding to the repe t*d and urgently expressed win o: eminent and ju ii teas persons in various Fectio:is of the country. fta*? drCKied t > commence r ^n the first of January 3 853, *? entirely original fer odical, under the r.bove title. It :i : mended to combine tho lighter characteristics a po; ulaz marine with the higher ?ud graver VUd i-js of a quarterly review, fiiliag a position h.th? ?rt?unoccupied !u cur literature. ^ai.e at;"r.cii*o variety for ?he genera! reader thai orviaiLed, there will be an attempt to secure sut ?'j:.us' excellence ia each depa tmeut. To sccooip.ish tbi.< w?j in end that the work in all > aecbsnic-l and business aspects shall be such at <ik ^ee: the % iews of our moi-tdii inrjuished writers, ?- a a oardium as they wtu d nek for in ccmmun: '?aocg *iui the world,"and su^h as may tempt some -c *nte abij aud p cfttabiy who have not iuther;c *n.rtbu:?d to ptriodials. w?.atend that all articles admitted into the work *-i:i b$ li:ertlly paid for. teller* that an ample material exists for cucb ?"*? jrit, taat thera is no iacw aitner of talaat among 3" *r:te.-c c: of appreciation en the art ?: ihfc r=ad -?public; &ni thiit*a properly cer.ducted periodical -.3 ?ki my bring tc light much trus beaia6is -Bitvs.opcd. .-aia nn's Monthly'* will be dc voted to the '.nterestF ' bc.ence, and Ait?iu thfcir bdtt and aspect i-nitljiu.iepeadentcf all merely selS h interests, can or sectional leaning, in it management. :? open ;o competent writers lor 1 re? d;scu.-sion 1 *wpi;s a* are deemed imoortan; ana of public ?>v. *-=::;-ical department will be wholly independent J * /ibueher?, and ?? Ux *5 pcs?ib:e, of all perx-na: - bias. Wholesome cas.Rations of public j *:.l be all ^wed a fair fie:d without fea ? or rafcr | l?t^**ki'.d national tone aL-d spirit, American a-d ^"'snt. yet uiacriminating aud just, both to the i?na to tn? soc.ui condition ^nd prospects cj '?ibux rpterc-s, will b? cultivated ae a leading priL-1 >?< ?tin work. fc-.tei.ticn will be fiven to mattere ccnnec* ? ? .ta municipal regulations, public ^ see:;, and the practical economies of i;\fcry . 1,1 v?;yt needs Illustration, or pictorial ex-! * * *-c^ii-us*ration? *iii be occar^onal y given; ] ; '* 19 p^t tinted that the fuccees of ths w^Xa. is | -?os.i oa r Lat -re termed '? embellishments." firing, among m^uy ethers, L*ve expressed ' *'* j ^.rc^ai of the plan. aLd will eh gi%6 .t j / -srsi coopers ion,while neci !y aliof them *ii: j V^krs to the -^oik. ?Irving, Prcf. T ieber, 2>*chorne, R. B. Kimball, * /--= HaliKk. ?..>Vald? Lmerscn. ?T- V ilawkj, Mra Kirk:and, r ? weo. Bancroft. lion. h. O. S^uier. -I., ^r 3c-hison, Href. Henry heed, :'n " ^ imaiujr., D. G. Mitchell, !;; ft. u ajiani, Miss Warner, author ci L ,T-??hcp Fcttsr, TVide World, L/ n"., i-hkpin, E. P Whipple, >le- MissC-oper, >, *? i-ippan, Ecv. Orvill- De^ev. , L?cgfc_bw, Miss ?8dgwioli, ? nBr7?tt. Geo. Sumner, ^n. Curtis, 4c., Ac. p?r tnr.axi, or 15 centr per number. Terms ?^1'ic i "ill be given in separate circulars. by a'.i booksellers throughout the ? ^taT*s and by the publishers. O. P. PUTNAM & CO , 10 Paik Vlacc, New York. (tJNAM'S POPULAR L1BBAKY is etUi een awnthlj. dec 14? EVENING STAR. ONLY A SEAMSTRESS. BY G. CANNING KILL. The young and reputedly wealthy Mr. William Mowbray was standing oa the door steps of the elegant mansion of Mr. Green. The time wag evening, and the month November: The weather was cold and very bracing, and the chill from the handle of the door bell instantly struck through the delicate kid glove in which his hand was encased, A servant ushered hira into the room, where chanced at this moment to be sitting Mrs. Green, her daughter Mary, and Miss Emeline May. The matron received him with a grace that was strongly winning for a lady of her age and apparent dignity of manner, and with affectionateness of man ner that she could scarcely have exercised toward a son of her own. Mary, ker daughter, rose to receive him likewise with a presumptiveness of attach ment that she had evidently been drilled into by the assiduous teachings of her mother. Only Emeline May, the orphan girl, ap peared to be for the first time noticed. She looked up with a timid and sad dened air, as Mr. Mowbray entered the room, and dropped her blue eyes over her work. Mr. Mowbray glanced with a look of ex pressive inquiry at the young girl, and the glance was unnotioed by Mrs. Green, for it could not have been many minutes feefore she made som6 frivolous pretext for dismis sing her from the room altogether. All the time the visitor was in the room, she had|, received no introduction to him at the in stance of Mrs. Green. " She is a really splendid looking girl," immediately exclaimed the young gentleman, ! when she had gathered up her work and passed out before him. " Some relative ?" added he, inquiringly. "No ? yes ? that is," answered Mrs. Green, hesitatingly, " she is a sort of second cousin to Mary, and we suffer her to be here merely out of charity, She is only a seam stress, you know !" "Ah I" answered Mr. Mowbray, glancing hurriedly at Mary, to observe the effect of this very cold remark upon her. Greatly to bis astonishment, he saw that she received this discomfiture of Emeline at the hand of her mother, with the most as sured satisfaction. 0 "She is certainly beautiful," added he, to see the effect of his remark, more than from any single desire to compliment the poor girl. " I wish you had introduced me, Mrs. Green." "Indeed I should have done so, Mr, Mow bray," replied she, with a simpering laugh, "had I thought her worthy of your atten tion. But she is only a seamstress, you see, and she is so poor and independent, too, in fact. I do not know what she would do were it not for our charity. She has ao home in the wide world to go to," " It certainly argues very much for your goodness, Mrs. Green," said he, " that you voluntarily befriended a poor girl in her situation. I must be allowed to say, mad am, that I held you much higher in my es teem since you have told me this." "0, as for that, Mr. Mowbray, I do no more than what I have censidered a duty; yet I never should consent to carry my kindness so far as to spoil her, I never tnmk of making her acquainted with Mary's visitors. She would soon be spoiled if I &d that." Mr. Mowbray sat lost in his reflections for a moment "VFhat those reflections were Mrs. Green certainly had no method of knowing. Yet she was not by any means deficient in that quickness that the female mind generally possesses, which enables it to seize by intuition, as it were, upon thoughts almost as quick as upon words. ?he did not mean, therefore, to suffer him to remain long lo3t in thoughts of Em eline, but instantly changed the subject, and ran on with her conversation as, gaily as if every heart beneath her roof were as happy a3 hers, atd as if she was just as she seemed F?r seme timd she succeeded in appa rently uiveriing the attention of the young ma>, each moment artfully directing it to wards Ler own daughter, and congratulat ing herself that she should succeed even to the extent of her desires. Then taking advantage of a moment when they were engaged in conversation to gether, she glided out of the room, and thought that no artfulness could have beea more successful in itself and at the same time more successfully concealed. The balance of the evening was passed by the young gentlemin very pleasantly, and Mary was in no wise behind hand in the practice of those trifling deceptions she had learned so thoroughly from her mother. Mr. Mowbray tried to convince his own heart that he was wonderfully satisfied with his own visit; yet ever and anon a glimpse of those blue eyes flashed across his vision, and he confessed to himself that he was at least uneasy. In this frame of mind he finally took his departure. He saw no more ef Mrs. Green during the evening. Perhaps it was a week after this, when Mr. Mowbray determined to pass another evening at the residence of Mrs. Green. Mr. Green himself was a merchant, and it was very rarely that the young gentleman met him in his own mansion. He not un frequently protracted his stay from home until quite late in the evening, On the evening in question, Mr. M. rang at the door and was ghown in as usual by the servant. After saluting Mrs. Green with the cordiality which was his wont, he likewise greeted Mary, and afterwards Em eline. Mary's mother looked all the aston ishment of which her several features were capable "How came he acquainted with Emeline? What way could she take to get acquainted with him? When and where was all this done ?" were questions that flashed through her mind, before she could possibly have words for their expression. "She has deceived me!" thought Mrs. Green. "She has taken advantage of my charities, and is even now plotting secretly against th6 pros pects of my daughter!" What in such a case, was therefore to be done ? What could be done ? Mrs. Green sat perfectly motionless for a brief monent with astonishment. She looks first at Mr. Mowbray, then at Emeline, and then at Mary. Her eyes met the meaniDg look of the latter, and her proud lips in stantly curled and quivered with scorn and rage. Shecontroled her temper, however, as she could, during the stay of the young man, but determined that he should enjoy no moment alone with the humble seamstress And laborously did she engage take upon herself all conversation, trusting to her own art and determination to prevent the possi bility of such an occurance again. Mr. Mowbray sat between the two ladies, passing a word now with one now with the other. Yet it was no very acutely percep tive faculty of Mrs. Green that induced her to believe in a very few moments that the young man was more pleased with Emeline than with Mary. The evening was exceedingly long to Mrs. Green; and she was inwardly rejoiced when Mr. Mowbray took his leave. And as soon as this happened, she said to Eme line: "You had better retire now, Emeline. I think I shall want you to rise earlier than usual in the morning." The girl obeyed the hint; and wishing her a good night, left the room. Mother and daughter were alone. The soft light of a large astral lamp fell on their faces, and revealed, with a very much increased power, the depth and the strength of the passions that were just ready for a violent eruption. "Now, mother," instantly began Mary, "where do you suppose she has ever made the acquaintance of Mr. Mowbray??where and when oould it be ?" "Heaven only knows, my daughter!" replied the mother, her cheeks fairly blanching with the tempest that was pas sing over her heart. " She is a poor crea ture of charity, at best, and yet she has dared?only think of it?she has dared to come and exhibit herself to gentlemen whom I invite to my house! And this is what comes of making so much of this poor baggage of relations! How do I know where she has found the facility to become acquainted with Mr. Mowbray ? How can I be assured that she may not have made revelations respecting you and me, such aa may disgrace us forever in the eyes of this young gentleman?" " She appeared to feel not at all concerned about it either," said the daughter. "Not in the least?-not in the smallest degree. She knew very well that I was to tally ignorant of any such acquaintance on her part, yet she betrayed not the least sign of modesty a^out exhibiting it to us. The deceitful jade! this is what comes of my charity." 44 Sore enough, mother," chimed in the daughter. " But I will hare ne more of thi?. I will see that it is stopped just where it is!" " What will you, mother ? I am sure it perplexes and mortifies MX very much." " What will I do, do you ask V "Yes." " There are many things I should like to do, and at once, too." " I wish I might never see her again," said Mary. " Then you need not," replied the mother, with more than her usual force of accent. " Why ? How can you prevent it?" asked the daughter. "I will send her off to-morrow morning!" answered Mrs. Green. "Where can you send her, pray? I am sure, I shall be glad enough to have her go, for she is eternally in my eyes, and un der my nose, and I can't have a gentleman come to call on me but she must put her self forward, and proceed to attract the at tention. I declare I am quite tired of it." " But I must promise you, my daughter, that you shall suffer no more from her ig norance and boldness; she shall be sent off to-morrow morning. I can make a pretext that will satisfy her and every one else, too." While the mother end child were engaged in this conversation, the subject of it was on her knees by her bedside, praying Hea ven to send more pity to her relatives to wards her?a poor helpless orphan. She rose from her knees, the tears cours ing rapidly down her cheeks. Well enough had sh6 been able to see the reason of her aunt's displsasure, and the motive that had prompted her to dismiss her from the room to bed One more completely innocent and guile less in this matter, as in every other, than Emeline, it wa3 not possible to find. She searched her heart everywhere to discover any wrong or any unjust motive. She looked carefully to find wherein she might have erred unsensoiously. But her search was altogether unsatisfactory to her. So purely true was she in every intent, one might easily suppose he would even be bet ter satisfied if he could find some cause of fault in herself. When she arose in the morning, her aunt was at the door, and directed her to pro ceed to pack her trunk immediately ; for she had arranged to have her pass a little time with a relative in the country. Al though this was peculiarly trying news to Emeline, yet she bore up under it with he roic fortitude. Suffering no expression of dissatisfaction to escape her lips, if she even allowed a rebellious thought to enter her heart, she proceeded to obey the in structions of her aunt, and presently had all completed. Breakfast over she was just descending the steps to enter the carriage that was waiting at the door to carry her to the cars, when Mr. Mowbray himself made his ap* pearance at the fo?t of the steps. He wae on a morning walk; and being attracted by the sight of the ladies at the top of the steps, he stopped to wish them a good morning. He politely handed Emeline into the carriage, and stopped a moment to exchange a few words with her. "Was ever anything more provoking ?" exclaimed Mary. I never, certainly, saw the like if it!" ut tered the really angry Mrs. Green. While Mr. Mowbray stood talking with Emeline, he inquired of her in what direc tion she was going, and the length of her visit. He seemed greatly surprised that Emeline should not have apprised him of her inten-; tion the evening before, and in fact so as sured her; but she answered him in the only way she could and that was she did not know herself that she was going. A new thought seemed suddenly to cross the mind of the young man. Bidding^her adieu, and in a low voice assured her of the deep pleasure it would afford him to visit her in her new abode, he turned again towards Mrs. Green and her daughter. The former urgently invited him to enter the house; but her invitation he repeatedly but civilly declined. He touched his hat lightly to them and walked on. But his brain was fuller of thoughts than . it was .five minutes before. There seemed , to him to be some mystery about this sud- j den departure of the poor seamstress into j the country. He suddenly called to mind, too, the peculiarly trifling?not to say con temptuous?manner to which her aunt had ipoken to him of her, calling her a poor de pendant relation, and saying that she wae only a seamstress. And he likewise called to mind the unseemly haste with which she hid dismissed her from th" room on the evening which he first saw her. There was a singulsr beauty about Eme line May that was calculated to win just such a heart as that of young Mr Mow bray's. Though he was of a decisive cha racter, and was governed very much b} the strength and duration of his impulses, \et his heart was by nature all inn^cenre : Hnd it was this very freedom from all gu le, tins perfect child like trustfulness on the part of Emeline that found sympathy in the heart of the worthy young man. When at length mother and daughter had retreated to the sitting room again, it was with the most fearful foreboding that the former contemplated this very unseen oc currence. Nothing certainly, could have been more unfortunate for the success of her selfish schemes. It was several days after this occurrence that Mrs. Green asked Mr. Mowbrav, with an air of seriousness?both were sitting in the parlor of the former?where and how it was he first made the acquaintance of Eme line; "for," said she, "I was really aston ished at what I saw. I sent the girl out cf the room, the first time you saw her here, that you might not think I wished to intrude such creatures in your presence." "Iassure you, Mrs. Green," replied the young man, " that yoif need not have been at any paias on my account; for I am frank to confess that I was very muck pleased with her appearance; and I really think, madam," continued he, "that you have great reason to feel proud of such a rela ? tion!" The lady looked very blank for a moment, yet she dared go no further on the publico - tion to Mr. Mowbray of her prejudices against the poor seamstress. " I will inform you in a few words, Mrs. Green," said he, "where and how it that I became acquainted with vour neice I had seen and noticed her at your house one evening when I called. I was even then interested very deeply in her app ar ance, and should have been glad of nn introduction from you. You gave me none." " You know, Mr. Mowbray," interrupted the lady, in one of her most artful tones, " that 1 did not know whether she might be agreeable to you or not, and of course I was altogether unwilling to suffer her to be in truded upon you." " I understand and appreciate your mo tives, Mrs. Green," replied he, " yet it *o happened that I was pleased with her, and was not loath to avail myself of the first opportunity that offend itself to become acquainted with her. I happened to Duet her one afternoon at a house in street?" "What was she doing there, pray?" ea gerly interrupted the aunt. " Giving of her scanty means, madam, to relieve the distresses of a poor family," an swered the young man firmly. " I recog nized her beautiful countenance iLStuutiv, and with no further ceremony, made myself known to her. I have a babit of buntii g out sufferers and the deserving poor in our streets, and of relieving them as far as I can judiciously. Some people, perhaps, m>.y call it eccentricity. I call it duty. I h;ive ample means, Mrs. Green, and I intend not to threw them away." This interview was drawn to a speedy close after this free and full disclosure on the part of the young man. Many months had gone by. Spring had j returned, and the grass sprang up every where on the lawn and bills. A neat billet douxcame to the door of Mrs. Green by the hands of a footman on a carriage that wilt ed at the bottom of the steps. Mrs. Green took it, breke the seal impatiently, ana re <d with perturberation: '"Mies Emeline May is et home to her friends ox> Tuesday evening, May 2d. " Mae E. Mat. " 31*. w. Mowbeat n They were married. Mrs. Green at first was enraged, but time softened her resent ment, and the finally acknowied her folly, and Mr. Mowbray avowed her prejudices first interested him in the character of Mies May. The lesson Mrs. Green never will for Two things weii considered would prevent many quarrels; first, to have it well ascertained whether we are not disput ing about terms rather than things; and secondly to examine whether that on which we differ is worth contending about. IfiT Twolundred and fifty-one thoisind, eight hundred and ninety three foreigners arrived in the city of New Yerk, from Jan uary lst.^to last ef November, of the pre sent year. Batchelor writes to us in a very ex cited state, protesting against the proposed schoool of Design for woman He urges that already nine out of ten men are victims to their designs, and if their natural instincts are to be so highly cultivated, not a single man will escape the bonds of matrimony.? LoiUtrn.