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THE STAR OF THE NORTH.
JSU W. Weaver Proprietor.] VOLUME 2. - i * THE STAR OF THE NORTH Is published every Thursday Morning, by R. W. WEAVER. OFFICE—Up stairs in the New BrickbuiltUng on the south sitle of Main street, third square below Market. TERMS s—' Two Dollars per annum, if paid Within six months from the time of subscri bina two dollars and fifty cents if not paid within the year. No subscription received 'for a less period than six months: no discon t nuance permitted until all arrearages are piid, unless at the option of the editors. ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding one square, will be inserted three times for one dollar, and twenty-five oents for each additional insertion A liberal discount will be made to those who atl vertise by the year. wUOTE, MUSIC, AND MOONLIGHT. 'T.was on a balmy eve of June, While-softly gleamed the rising moon Above a pillowing oloud, whose snow Seemed bathed in that celestial glow- All sounds of earth and air w here mute, When first I heaid thy silvery lute ; Bright was the eve, and blest the hour When first I saw thee, beauty's flower. The calm, the scene, the fairy tone— Into my thoughts like light have gone; Entranced lay earth; the stars aronr.d Blue heaven seemed twinkling to the sound , As floated far the notes along. The blackbird hushed his evening song ; The murmuring stream and rippling sea Drew still, and listened, envying tliee. Oh wh.tf ecstacy, that night, Kind fhte lOetowed to sound and sight— The sight was what we meet, perchance, ! Only in page of old romance ; The sound was lite the lovelorn breeze, j That steals at nigtu f° wo ° treeß i And mingling, both jrftde P oor earl ' l seem i Not man's abode, but fan")' 8 dream. There beauty'* circling zone si/bdued The spirit to love'* melting mood ; The radiant and the rare combined Of sin and grief the sense to blind; No gloomy doubts or dreams oppressed | The bright elysium of the breast; A*i off flew sorrow, like the grey 01 twilight from the glance of day ! Floated the elfin musio fine Through net-work of the eglantine, I While moonbeams pierced the leaves be- | To see thee-ar.il to make thee seen; [tween And there thou siood'sl all glowing bright ! With alabfcster brow of light, As 'twere an angel come to see What a thing a world like our* can be! [The following ploasanl article was read as a prize essay at a late anniversary cele bration of the Albany Female Academy.] ' THE AGE OF JOSATIIAN. ! BY MISS MARY" MATHER, OF FLINT, MICH. j The most disagreeable period of human life is that questionable era when one is ; neither boy nor man—that graceless self- ' conceited age so fecund of mischief, colt breaking, bird's nesting and orchard-robbing; so brim-full of wordy courage, debating so- ; cieties, pomatum and old pistols. When ( vanity is yet uncurbed by reason, and the 1 destructive propensities are rampant; when , the sentiments, if they exist at all, are in limbo, and the rude energies and activities are impatient of the least restraint. When | one is a representative of all unattractive good-for-naught creatures. When he is, in short, pragmatical as a learned pig; whist, ling and crowing Irom dawn till dark like a musical chanticleer—and as continually oil , the aggressive of a courageous-barking pup- PF- Vet, in spite of all this, bow beautiful and , significant is youth ! For beneath this rough , exterior we perceive the germ of a noble ardor, a self-sacrifice and enthusiasm sel- | dom found when years and cares, and disap pointments have embittered life, and robbed the future of its glory. Historians tells us that nations, like tndi- j vi duals, have their allotted period of exi9t once : that they come forth from the night of barbarism to the freshness and poetry of youth—reach a certain point of advance ment, grow old and feeble, and finally per ish. Greece and Rome died centuries ago, le.ariug us a few volumns, posthumous re- ' cool* io this effect. China, more phlegmat ic, has existed much as do amphibia in ros iil beds, in a cold blooded, dormant siate, without pulsation or the consciousness of being. Standing on the shores of the new world, and obsei yiug the restlessness and recklessness, the pei'verse and lawless spirit at work, we are led to e.volaim, It must be so !—Every thing here indic'.Rtee the transi j lion stage, the boyhood of the nation, AVhat other are Wild-cat specnlations, Mm- | icap and Cuban expeditions, than mere! water melon stealing and boy-buccaneering of henroosts! What Ohio Legislature and United States' Senate controversies but the polemics of FiiticuA in his sixteenth year. Reasoning from experience, this young Jonathan of the nineteenth century must be : short lived. Promoted to "striped trowers" at so tender an age", so early thrown upon his resources, evincing such precocious shrewdness at bargains—must not his matu rity and old age arrive with a proportional rapidity! . There is one hope for him He has shown no remarkable gepius for music, painting nor poetry. His healthy mediocrity in these branches permits the hope that he may sur vive the usual melancholy fate of preraa- turn genius. Besides, * hardiness and in trepidity were early developed in him by rocgh toil among granite hills and unproduc tive valleys; by roving the forest and wa ging war with the wolf and the savage until, like Bis young shepherd of other days, he feared rfo Qolieh. Quite in accordance with )U.OOMSmfRfI. COLOMBIA THURSDAY, DECEMBER 12, 1850. tho disrespectful tendency of bis age, *u it, that his first essay of military gallantry should have been to flog his mother.—Time and reflection have as yet begotten no shame for so unnatural an act. Far otherwise I it is his boast at debating societies, stump orations and Fourth pf Julys. Indeed, but fbr his enthusiast io veneration of "smart ness," his mad demonstrations of worshipful respect to superanuated captains and gener als of militia—and his eagerness to apotheo size whatever is deemed superior in pirouet ting or novel-writing: we might question if his organ of reverence be not wholly flat tened and dissolved. What effect the melo dious bewitchments of the Swedish song stress will produce upon him, is a curious problem. Will his intoxication stop short of delirium tremens? Spite of one instance to the contrary, Jon athan is the most gallant soul alive.—The age of chivalry never produced a more ten der and heroic champion, no! of high-bom dames and maidens of glortous beauty, but of that trustful and refined idea which we name womanhood. He is almost too courte leous and submissive, for "frailty" grows presuming, and hardly deigns to acknowl edge his civilities.—Unthanked, he carries basket and bird-cage, umbrella, bandbox and baby, while she as a matter of course leans helplessly upon his good-natured left elbow. In travelling by car or stage-coach, how noticeable this amiable trait When a a lady enters, John doggedly adheres to his comfortable cushioned coiner, surveys her with a cool and indiflerenl stare, and re" aumes his nap; but Jonathan instantaneous ly unpockets his hands, oxpectororates to the left, and,resigns his seat. Such a polite ness should not be unacknowledged because "he chews." All boys of a certain unrea sonable age grow lanterned-jawed upon spruce gum and Burgundy pitch, but a little reflection teaches them better. We notice indications of a growiog sense on this point and promise that he will yet reform in time to save his teeth and his nervous constitu- But there is one feature in his case which strikes us as lamentable, and tending to la mentable results, lei loose to browse at will upon the luxuriant pasturage of this new world, gluttony is growing upon him una ware. His chief idea of happineea—his home of bliss, is eating. His holy-days are festivals, and ho expresses his gratitude for every blessing by gourmamhzing. Accord ing to his vocabulary Thanksgiving means pumpkin-pie, cider and roast turkey: Christ mas anil Now-Years are defined ahieken sakul and sausages; Fourth of July every thing eatable, not to say digestible. His soirees and conversaziones are great displays of whip cream and confectionery, got up of ten with much taste and expense; and which the main enjoyment of the evening consists in disfiguring and devouring. It is remark uble that this felicity should be so hurriedly despatched, but it accords with his eager and arid nature. Years and experience a lone, teach men to eat, Nature is more kind to other animals. This fierce and restless energy bears the appearance of an unhealthy excitement. What is it that keeps him moving from ten ement o tenement every first of May l What keeps turn continually guessing, and expect ing, and whittling, and drumming on bis chair? What is it tbal impels him to carve his name so industriously in rocks and caves where none but bats and wood-pigeons will find it ? Wit destrucliveness, a thirst for immortality—or the utter impossibility of quietude that possesses him, to scrawl his ungraceful autographs on trees where they must soon grow out of ell legibility, on the walls and window panes of steamboats and hotels, on barn doors and the ily leaves of circulating library books ? We find such traces on the pyramids of Egypt, on the co lossal pillars of the cave Elephanta, and on the door posts of the Greenbush koseboat. But this is not all. Mis analytic mind is sel dom satisfied without chipping off speci mens of ewerv thing curious. His taste for this species of plunder is as indiscriipina tingas voracious, and he prizes equally a bit of Napoleon's ceffin halt a pair of chop slicks, a pinch of the chryelalization suppos ed to be Lot's wife, a Inree cornered scrap of satin snipped from (be dress of Madam Jus seau's wax figures, a lew hairs stolen from the mummy at the Museum, or a corner of (he golhic railing at the capitol. These are all the more valuable if a little expertness is requisite to obtain them. Plymouth rock had the honor of the first gaiflte from his peg boot*. Therefore it is a celebriij'. and he never passes without car rying off A fragment of it,—Bernbes he builds little specimens into the corners of his | meeting houses and distribute* small bite a raong hie friends byway of amulet. In this, manner the whole rock had ere now been destroyed, but that commercial interests re quired that a wharf should be built ovet it. No respect for "storied um or animated bust" deters him. He will shy a stone at the fieise of Washington's monument, as unconcernedly as at the street lamp.—Red Jacket's wooden monument was twice re newed, and twice whittled to the giound, when Placide erected him ooe of marble. From this the name and inscription are part ly effaced, and the wbole upper portion is destroyed. A chief told me Jonathan did it. Why did not his mother leach him that a simple flower, or blade of grass plucked | there would be a far more tasteful and res. I pootful momeiito of (he great aaabem 1 He vsttpld blast off Aofhony's nose merely for the sake of seeing it uunble into the water, with as much nouclialanee as he would pocket the noso of the Belvidere, or eject tobacco juice upon the master pieces of Persico and Caudva.—He 'oves birds ; yet he cannot see an innocent warbler quietly perched without spasimcdioally aiming a pebble or an old pistol at it, and the result is almost surely fatal to poor Peede. A tearful spirit of unrest, headlong and heedless as that which drove the swine into the sea, seem to have dominion oyer him. Sometimes it assumes the appearance of in subordination, and raises Astor Place and Philadelphia riots ; at other times it is a spirit of preserve and pickle jar exploration eager to search out the mysteries of the moon, or Symme's Hole—or some forbidden orchard. It goads him into the forest in pur suit of wild-cats and grizzly bears,—up anil down the prauies in hot chase after the mustang and fierce buffalo,—or across boun dless waste and wilderness to lay his sun burnt and fevered cheek upon the yellow, cheerless sands of the Sacramento. Though he travels by steam and write with lightning, yet it hurries him faster and still faster, up and down Wall street and Quay street, over bales and boxes, from Lands' End to the Horn, hither and thither, in the mad pursuit of wealth, or fame, or novelty, or whatever promises the great desideratum, excitement. It leaves him no time for the soothing enjoy mentsof home, no quiet, no repose—What wander that some shrewd observers have already discovered a few premature gray hairs among his yellow locks! l'oor Jonathau ! With all hie eccentricities he is a noble young fellow. Although a lit tie hasty, he hears no malice iu his heart, and with a generosity worthy a more thought ful head, gives liberally of his store to his famishing neighbors. His hospitable doors are open to the pauperism of the whole world, and his welcome is not the less hear ty because thousands yearly throng them.— Extreme and indiscriminate in his charities, as in every thing, he makes all these unfor tunate brethren eqnal participants with him self in his household government. And but for tho intelligence—the conversance with political ecotomy and the constitution of Jon athan which they usnally evince at the polls, tt would be manifest indiscretion in him to allow them this privilego without some pre vious iusiruction. Certainly, they will nev er abuse his generosity. There are a thousand omens of good for this hair brained aspiring youth, and al though he has been rather impertinent to bis superiors, and used profane terms, and sha ken his fists in of legislation' he will yet grow up to be a gentleman. The ex cess of young life will expend itself in a few more "expeditions," or in making wes tern clearings, and he will "settle down" in a neat and tasteful mansion, far differen from the windy, capacious and gaudy edi fices he now "moves to" yearly. Ho will yet cherish tlge arts from a love of what is true and beautiful ir. them, as f reely as he now does from ostentation. He will take time to eat his dinner, and allow the rob bing to build in his orchard, and the errors and ignorances of his youth will be forgotten, or remembered only in old ballads, as are those of Robin Hood and the merry men of Sherwood Forest. ROTTEN U BROKEN BINKS. — Be on Your Guard. —Every few days we receive accounts of the breaking of batiks, running away of the officers with the capital, and leaving the "dear people," for whose "special benefit" the institutions are chartered, to get the notes redeemed the best way they can. The Savannah Repuldican says: "One-half of the banks in Louisiana are either c'ottd or worthiest. Of three banks in Illinois one is closed. has but one good bank.—The banks in Florida are all bad; and those in Arkansas are no belter. Of twenty nine hanks ir. Georgia, thirteen are pronounced worthless, three more with bills too bad to be sold, and one doubtful. Seven teen out of twenty-nine have toppled down within a few years in one State. If batiks were I eft—like individuals—to their own credit, or have none, these enor mous frauds upon the public would be less numerous, if they did not entirely cease. For a bonus, or some other bribe, the legisla ture lends its cloak to a gang of swindlers to make them appear like honest men, in or der that they make their gains out of the pockets of those whom circumstances com pel to take their bills. In fact the legislature hare no right, upon any fair principle, to endorse the bills of a bank without being themselves liable as endorsers. Speaaer of the House. Thhe following is a list of the gentlemen who have been announced as candidates for Speaker of the next House of Representa tives. . John S. Rhey, Armstrong. John Cessna, Bedford. J. D. Leet, Washington. J. B. Packer, Northumberland. J. S. Haldeman, York. W. J. Jackson, Philadelphia. Jos. E. Griffin, Fayette. A. S. Feather, Berks E. A. Penniman, Philadelphia. Wm. Dunn, Clinton. W They say the female atudenls atten ding tbe Medical College in Philadelphia, are quite expert it. outiing and oarving dead bodiea supplied them fot dissection. Tbey seem to like jt. Trath and Right—Gad aid air CaMtry. A Remarkable Death-lied Scene. Tho following is an extract from the life of JOHN RANDOLPH of Roanoke, by Hugh A. Garland, which has just been published : Next morning (the day on which he died) Dr Parrish received an early and an earnes invitation to viait him. Several persons were in the room, but soon left it, except his ser vant, John, who was much nfleeted at the sight of his dying master. Ttie Doctor re marked to him, "I have seen your master very low before, and he revived ; and per haps he will again." "John knowo better than that, sir." He then looked at the Doc tor with great intensity, and said in an earn est and distinct manner, "I confirm every disposition in my will, especially that re specting ray slaves, whom I have manumit ted, and for whom I have mad* provision." "I am rejoiced loliefff euch a declaration from you, sir," replied the Doctor, and soon after proposed to leave him for a short time, to attend to another patient. "You must not go," was the replv; "you cannot, you shall not leave, me, John / take oare that the Doc tor does not leave the room." John soon locked the door, and reported, .''Master, I have locked the door and got the key in my pocket: the Doctor can't go now." He seemed excited, and said, "If you do go you need not return." The Doctor ap pealed to him as to the propriety of such an order, inasmuch as he was only desirous of discharging bis duly to another patient. His manner insrantly changed, and he said, "I retract that expression." Some time after wards, with an expressive look, he said a gain, "I retract that expression." The Doctor now said he understood the subject of his communication, and presumed the Will would explain itself fully. Re re plied in his peculiar way—"No, you don't understand it; I know you don't. Our laws are extremely particular on the subject of slaves—a will may manumit them, but pro visions for their subsequent support requires that a declaration be made in the presence of a white witness; ar.d it is requisite that the witness, after hearing the declaration, should remain with the party and nevoi lose sight ot him, until he is gone or dead. Yon are a good witness for John. You see the propriety and importance of your remain ing with me; your patidhts must make al lowance for your siiuation. John told me this morning—'master, you are dying.' " The Doctor, with entire candor, replied, that it was rather a matter of surprise that he had lasted so long. He now made his prep, arations to die.—Hr-Aheetad John to bring him his father's breast button; he then di rected him to place it in the bosom of his shirt. It was an old fashioned, large sized geld stud. John placed it in tho button hole of the shirt bosom—but to fix it com pletely, reqnired a hole on the opposite side. "Gel a knife," said he, "and cut one." A napkin was called for, and placed by John over his breast. For a short time he lay perfectly quiet, with his eyes closed. He suddenly roused up and exclaimed—"Re morse ! remorse !" It was thrice repeated, the last time at the top of his voice, with great agitation. He cried out—"let me see the word. Get a Dictionary; let me see the word." "There is none in the room sir." "Write it down then—let me see the word." The Doctor picked up one of his cards, "Randolph of Roanoke"—"shall I write it on thiseard?" "YeS,-*<-(hing more pfoper." The word remorse, was then w rillen in pen oil. He took the card in a hurried manner and fastened his eyes on it with great inten sity. "Write it on the back," he exclaimed —it was done and handed him again. He was extremely agitated—"Remorse! you have no idea what it is; you can form no idea of it, whatever; it has contributed to bring me to my present situation—but I have looked to the Lord Jesus Christ, and hope I have obtained pardon. Now let John take your pencil and draw a line under the word,' which was accordingly done. "What am I to do with the card?" inquired tho Doctor. "Put it in your pocket—take care of it when I am dead, look at it." The Doctor now introduced the subject of calling in some additional witnesses to his declarations, ana suggested sending down stairs for Edmund He replied "I have already communicated that to him." The Doctor then said—"With your concur rence, sir, I will send for two young physi cians, who shall remain and never 1080 sight of you until you are dead; to whom you can make your declarations—my son, Dr. Isaac Parrish, and my young friend and late pupil, Dr. Francis West, a brother of Capt. West." He quickly asked—"Captain West of the' Packet?" "Y'es sir, the same." "Send for him—he's the man—l'll have him." Before the door was unlocked, he pointed towards a bureau, and requested the Doctor to take from it a remuneration for his ser vices. To this the Doctor promptly replied, that he would feel as though he were acting indelicately, to comply. He then waived the subject, by saying—"in England, it is alwayß customary." The witnesses wera now sent lor and soon arrived. The dying man was propped up in the bed, with pillows, nearly erect. Being extremely sensitive to cold, he had ja blan ket over his head and shoulders; and he di reeled John to place his hat on, over the blanket, which aided in keeping it close to his head. With a countenance full of sor row, John stood close by the side Of his dy ing master. The four witnesses—Edmund Badger, Franois West Issaac Parrish and Joseph Parrish, were placed in a semi-circle' in full view. He rallied all the expiring en ergies of mind and body, to this last effort. "His whole soul," says Dr. (Parrish, "seemed concentrated in the act. His eyes flashed feeling and intelligence. Pointing towards us with his long index finger, he addressed us:" "1 confirm all the directions in, my Will, respecting my slaves, and direet them to be enforced, particularly in regard to a provis ion for their support." And then raising his arm as high as he could, he brought it down with his open hand on the shoulder of his favorite John, and addressed these words— "eepeoially tor this man." He then asked each of the witnesses whether they under stood him. Dr. Joseph l'arrish explained to them what Mr. Randolph had said in regard to the laWB of Virginia on the subject of mi numissiqn—and then appealed to the dying man to know whethex he had Btated it cor rectly. "Yes," said he; and gracefully wa ving his hand as a token ot dismission, he added—"the young gentlemen, will remain with me." The scene was now soon changed. Hav ing disposed of that subject mostdefeply im pressed on his heart, his keen penetrating eye lost its expression, his powerful mind gave way, and his fading imagination began to wander omid scenoßnnd with friends that he had left behind. In two hours the spirit took its flight, and all that was mortal of John Randolph of Ronoake was hushed ir. death At a quarter before 12 o'clock, on the 21th day of June, 1833, aged 60 years, he breathed his last, in a chamber of the City Hotel, No. 41, North Third street Phila delphia. The Ptn and the Needle. Lew Smith, the cute and philosophical editor of the Madison Record, tells the fol lowing witty fable, which is good as any thing we have seen out of Esop. A pin and a needle, says this American Fontaine be • •ng neighbors in a work basket, and both being idle, began to quarrel, as most idle folks are apt to do. '1 should like to< know,' said the pin, what you are geod for, and how you expect to get through this world without a head.' 'What is the use ot your head,' replied the neb pie sharply, 'if you have no eye.' 'What is the use of an eye,' said the pin, 'if there is always something in it?' 'I am more active and can go through more hard work than you can,' said the nee dle. 'Yes, but you will not live long.' 'Why not?' 'Because you have always a stitch in your side,' said the pin. 'You are a poor crook ed creature,' said the needle. 'And you are so proud 'hat you can't bend without breaking your back.' 'l'll pull your head off; if you insult me again.' 'l'll put your eye out, if you touch me ; remember your life hangs by a single thread, said the pin.' While thus conversing, a little gill enter ed, and undertaking to sew, she very soon broke off the needle at the eye. Then she tied the thread around the neck of the pin, and attempting to sew with it she soon pull ed its head off, and threw it into the dirt by the side of the broken needle 'We have nothing to fight about now,' said the pin. 'lt seems misfortune has brought us to our senses.-' 'A pity we had not come to them sooner,' said the needle. 'How much we resemble human beings who quarrel about their blessings till they lose them, and never find out they are brothers till they lie down in the dust togeth er as we do.' A GOOD Secneß-noN.—A friend has sug gested to us the propriety of Jenny Lind sin ging "I know that my Redeemer liveth," to the orphans of Girard College and the in mates of the Block ley Almshouse, enforcing his suggestion by an incident at once stri king and convineiug. He_is a man of fifty years, who has, all his lite, neglected the oflicesof religion, having never realized its truth and power. He was persuaded to at tend ore of Miss Lind's concerts, at which this overpowring hymn was given, and for the first time felt and believed in the exis tence, of a God, above and beyond the circle of more speculation and theory. There is something in this case which will suggest itself to any one who has heard the sacred melodies of Miss Lind, more powertully than we can express the feelings imparled by the irresistible and winning religion of her appearance and execution in her religi ons pieces. It would certainly afford her extreme pleasure to comply with the reque st, if it be at all compatible with her exiting engagements ty The Maryland Reform Convention appear to be nobly progressive in their ideas. They have instructed their committee on representation, to inquire into the propriety of dividing the State into delegate andiena- 1 torial di stricts, each districts, each district to elect hut one to the Legislature. A resolu tion was adopted, inquiring into the expedi ency ol prohibiting the banks to issue notes under $5, and also one instructing a com mittee to report in favor of abolishing im prisonment for debt. When yen see a person saorafice comfort fo what he imaghiee to be gentility, yon may be pretty certain that be is not used to it. Brend Pudding vs. Plum Pudding. The editor of the Evansville Journal writes as follows on being presented with a piece of bride's oake. With the wedding notioe in another eol urhn, we received from the fair hand of the bride a piece ol elegant wedding cake to dream on. Well, we put it under the head of our pillow, shut our eyes sweetly as an infant, and, blessed with an easy consci ence, soon snored prodigiously. The god of dreams gently touched us, and lo! in fancy we were married ! Never was a little edi tor so happy. It was 'my love,' 'dearest,' 'sweetest,'ringing in our cars every mo ment. Oh! that the dream had been bro ken off here. But no. some evil genius put it into the head of our duaky to have pud ding for dinner, just to please her lord. In a hungry dream we sat down to dinner. Well, the pudding moment arrived, and a huge slice almost obscured from sight the plate before tie. My dear,' eaid we fondly, 'did you make this?' 'Yes love—ain't it nice V 'Glorious—the best bread pudding I ever tasted in my life.' 'Plum pudding, ducky,' suggested my wife. ,0 no, dearest, bread pudding, I always was fond of 'em.' 'Call that bread pudding!' exclaimed my wife, while her pretty li ps curled slightly with contempht. 'Certainly, my dear—reckon I've had to cat enough at Sherwood House to know. Bread padding, my love, by all means.' 'Husband, this is really too bad. Plum pudding is twice as hard to make as bread pudding, and is more expensive, and a greßt doal better. I say this is plum padding, sir,' and my protty wife's brow flushed with ex citement. | 'My love, my sweet, my dearly love, ex- I claimed we soothingly, 'do not get angry; I I'm sure it's very good, if it is bread pud ! ding.' 'But, sir, I say it ain't bread pudding.' 'And, madam, I say it is bread pudding.' 'You mean, low wretch,' fondly replied my wife, in a high tone, 'you know it is plum pudding.' | 'Then, ma'am, it is so meanly put togeth er, and so badly burned, the devil himself wouldn't know it. I tell you, madam, most distinctly and emphatically, and I will not be contradicted, that is bread podding, and the meanest kind at that.' 'lt is plum pudding!' shrieked my wife as she hurled a glass of claret in my face, the glass itself 'tapping the claret' from my nose. 'Bread pudding!' gasped we, pluck to the last, and grasping a roasted chicken by the left leg. 'Plum pudding!'rose above the din, as I had a distinctive perception of feeling two plates smash acrossmy head. 'Bread pudding!' we groaned in rage, as the chicken left our hand, and flying with swift wing across the table, landed in mad am's bosom. 'Plum puddiug !' reseunded the war cry from the enemy, a 9 ll.e'gravy dish took us where we had been depositing the first part of out dinner, and a plate of beets landed up on a white vest. 'Bread pudding, forever!' shouted we in defiance, dodging the soup tureen, and fall ing beneath its contents. 'Plum pudding!' yelled the amiable spouse,"as, noticing our misfortune, she de termined to keep us down by piling upon our head the dishes with no gentle hand. Then in rapid succession followed the war cries. 'Plum pudding' shrieked with every dish ! 'Bread] pudding!' in smothered tones, came up from the pile in reply. Then tt was 'plum pudding' in rapid succession, the last cry growing feebler, till, just as I cau dis tinctly recollect, it had grown lo a whisper. 'Plum pudding I' resounded like thunder, followed by a tremendous crash, as my wife leaped upon the pile with her delicate feet, and commenced jumping up and down when, thank Heaven ! we awoke, and thus saved our life We shall never dream on wedding cake again—that's tte moral. Too WHlTE.—Fredr'ea Bremer, being in vited a few days since, while in Wisconsin, to sit near a fire, where a party of j allies were seated, said in reply: "No, no; you American ladies are vary handsome, but you are too white] ' You sit down by a fire of your own making, and neglect the great fire that god has placed in the heavens, which would give you health end R better color." IT" There wore thirty six fires in New York last month, none of them, however, of j any great consequence. Tbe whole loss probably by fires in the month, Will not ex ceed 910,000, the majority of which is in sured. 17 American axes are reported to be far superior to tbe British. They are sent to Liverpool and sold in competion with the English manufacture. 1 E7* The Indiana Constitutional Conten tion are Mill engaged in discussing the ques tion of permitting negroea to hold a resi dence and property in that State. It has cre ated considerable excitement, and will prob ably be referred baok to the people. [Two Dollars pr Annum NUMBER 46. Randolph's Dnel with Hcnrr Clay. 'The night before the duet,' my* General James Hamilton, of South Carolina, 'Mr. Randolph sent for me. I found him'calm, but in a singularly kind and confiding mood'. He told me that he had something on his mir.d to tell me. He then remarked, 'Ham ilton, I have determined to receive, without returning, Clay's fire ; nothing shall induce me to harm a hair of his head, I will not make his wife a widow, or his children or phans. Their tears would be shed over his grave; but when the sod of Virginia reals on my bosom, there is not in tins wide worid one individual to pay this tribute upon mime.' His eyes filled, and, resting his head upon his hand, we remained some moments si lent. I replied, 'My dear friend (for ovrs Was a sort of posthumons friendship, be queathed by our mothers,) I deeply regret that you hove mentioned this subject to, m* for you call upon me to go to the field and to see you shot down, or to assume the res ponsibility, in regard to your own life, jn sustaining your determination to throw It' away. But on this subject, a man's own conscience and his own bosom are his best monitors. I will not advise, but, under the enormous and unprovoked insult youotfered' Mr. Clay, I cannot dissnade. 1 feel found, however, to communicate to Col. Ta'nall your decision.' He begged me not to do so, and said 'he was very much afraid that Tut nall would take the studs and would refnse to go out with him.' I, however, sought Col. Tattnal, and we repaired abcajt mid night to Mr. Randolph's lodgings, wham wa found reading Milton's great poem. For some moments he did not permit up to soy one word in relation to the approaching do el, and he at once commenced one of those delightful criticisms on a passage of this po et, in which tie was want so enthusiastically to indulge. After a pause Col Tattual re marked, 'Mr. Randolph, I am told yon have determined not to return Mr. Clap's firs; I mu t say to you, my dear sir, it I am only to go out to see youlshot down, y ou mus find some other friend.' Mr. Randolph it marked that it was his determination. After some conversation on the srVbyiet. I indaeed Col. Tattnall to allow Mr. Randolph to take his own course, as his withdrawal, as one of his friends, might lead to very injurious mis constructions. At last, Mr. Randolph, srai ling, said,' Well, Tattnall, I promise you one thing: if I see the devil in Clay's eye, and that with malice prepense ho means to take my life, I may change my mind.' A remark I knew he made merely to propitiato the anxieties of his friend. 'Mr. Clay and himself met at foer o'clock the succeeding evening, on the banks of the Potomac. Rat he saw'no devil in Clay's eye, but a man fearless, and expressing the mingled sensibility and firmness whjcb be longed to the occasion. "I shalPnever forget this scene a* long as I live. It has been my misfortune to wit ness several duels, but I never saw ons, at least in its sequel, so deeply uffecting. The sun was just sotting behind the blue hills of Randolph's own Virginia. Here were two ) of the most extraordinary men our country j in its prodigality had produced, about to , meet in mortal combat. While Tattnall was loading Randolph's pistol, I approached Imy friend, I believed, for the last time. I took his hand ; there was not in its touch the quivering of one pulsation, lie turned to me and said, 'Clay is calm, but not vindi cative—l hold my purpose, Hamilton, in any event; remember this.' * On handing him his pistol, Colonel Tattnall sprang the hair-trigger. Mr. Randolph,said, 'Tattnall, although lam one of the best stmts in Vir - ginia with either a pistol, or gun, yet 1 nev er fire with a hair trigger; besides. 1 have a thick buckskin glove on, which will destroy tho delicacy of my touch, and the trigger may fly before I know where I am.' But from his great sclioitude for Ms friend, Tatt nall insisted upon hairing the pistol. On ta king their position, the fact turned out as Mr. Randolph anticipated; his pistol went off before the word, with the muzxle down ' The moment this event took place, Sen. Jesup, Mr. Clay's friend, oalled out that he would instantly leave the ground with Ms friend, if that occurred again. Mr. Clay at once exclaimed It was an accident, and bog ged that the gentleman might be allowed to go on. O.i word being given, Mr. Clay fit. Ed without effect, Mr, Randolph discharg ing his pistol in the air. The moment that Mr. Clay saw that Mr. Randolph had thrown away his fire, with a gush of sensibility, he instantly approached Mr. Randolph, and said, with an emotion I can never fotgpt— "l trust in God, my dear sir, you are untou ched ; after what has occurred, I would not have harmed you for a thousand worlds. 1 — Life of John Randolph. A Polite Ulan. _ "My uncle, deceased, was lha most pa lite man in the world. He was making a voyage on the Danube—the boat sank, and all the passengers went to the bsttom. My uncle was on the point of drowning: he got his head above the water for onoe, took off hie hat, and said : 'Ladies and gentlemen, you will please to excuse me II and dawn he went" . • - * W In England nearly evesy manufactory of any consequence prepares the gas which it uses in lighting the factery—the ma chinery requisite not being very coetly for preparing gas to a eor-sidcrable extent. , tff' vj i ttn id tffV