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The star of the north. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1849-1866, March 20, 1856, Image 1

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B. W. Wea*r, Proprietor.]
OFFICE—Up stairs, in the new brick build
ing, on the south side of Main Street,
third square below Market.
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From the Home Journal.
•Eonex r. ueaais.
Mr lady waits !—'Tis now the hour
When morn unbars her gstos !
My vessel glide b beneath the lower
Where now my lady waits.
Her signal flutters from the wall.
Above the friendly set!
I live but to obey her call.
My lady waits for me.
My lady watts —for me she waits.
While morning opes her golden gates.
My lady waits!—No fairer flower
E'sr deck'd the floral grove.
Than she, the pride of hall and bower,
Tho lady of my love !
The eastern hills are fleck'd With ligh',
The land-breeze curls the sea !
By love snd truth sustained, for flight,
My lady wails for me.
My lady wails—for me aho waits,
While moinii g opes her golden gates.
€. R. BUCKAIaEW, E*q.,
Mr. President, and gentlemen of the Con
vention—lt ia scarcely a fit thing to set cold
meats before a company after a feast; bet,
Sir, this is sn occasion when the feeble may
stand up, and even the ill come forward. I
have but little to say, and as 1 have been
much in the habit, of recent years, of speak
ing to business questions and confining my
self to the question, I shall do so at this time.
Mr. President, this Convention is compo
sed of one hundred snd thiity-three mem
bers. It is full. No delegate is absent from
his place in this Hall. Upon the first vote lor
the selection of a candidate to be presented
by Pennsylvania to her sister Slates,one hun
dred and twenty eight gentlemen are placed
upon the record in favor of a distinguished
personage not now resident within the limits
of our Riale, although a native of it, nor with
in the limits of the United States or contign
ous territory, but located beyond three thou
sand miles of dreary water from us, and there
discharging, with distinguished ability, the
duties attached to the position which he
holds. No intrigue attaches to this nomina
tion. It has not been begotten in caucus not
in the brain of any human being who ex
pected therefrom personal advantage or pro
motion. Whatever may have been said of
previous Conventions in this Commonwealth
or elsewhere—whatever of reproach or of
doubt may have been heretofore attaohed to
any transaction in which our proud and gal
lant party has been concerned, thia transac
tion, this event, stands upon an elevation
where reprouch doth not approach it. [Great
Sir, from whence comee this oomina'.ion
by the Convention here assembled ! It comes
from the hearts and the judgments of the peo
ple of Pennsylvania. (Cheers.) That is the
quarter from whence it proceeds, end here
is the proof of it. One hundred and twenty
eight votes of this body, lacking bnt five of
the entire number, were given with prompt
ness and alacrity for the nominee of the Con
vention. Four gentlemen voted under the
pressure of instructions for another, but im
mediately afterwards, alter that technical du
ty was discharged, they enrolled themselves
along with their colleagues for the candidate
nominated. One gentleman only, did not
join in the nomination, but he is just as cer
tainly committed, and just as sure eventuslly
to be enrolled with the others, ss any future
event can be certain. He voted for the nom
inee of the Cincinnati Convention. We have
him theie! (Applause.) Mr. President,—
this has been the aotion of the Convention.
Thus much has been done and well done.—
It has been accompliehed in the right time
and in the right way. It has proceeded from
just and proper motives, and is emphatically
sanctioned by, and based upon,the judgment
and convictions of the people. Now, eir,
what next! Another duly of thie Conven
tion will be to select gentlemen to represent
our Commonwealth —our Stale—in the Con
vention at Cincinnati. They will go there
charged with the message which wo have
prepared. And what is this message f It is
to ask of the assembled representatives of the
thirty odd States of the Union, to concur with
ns in this work which we have begun, in all
honesty and in all earnestness; with deep
convictions of ite justice, of its wisdom, and
of the necessity whioh has suggested it and
which sanctions it. We have spoken here,
and our speech has been put upon reoord.—
And there has been sent trembling along the
wires, with the swiftness of lightning, to the
remotest corners of the confederacy,this voice
thus uttered. What next! As a business
question—for lam speaking of that idea pre
dominant—what next is to be done ! Why,
sir, we are to evince our party friends in oth
er States that we are right, and that duty and
policy require them to go in with ne. That
is the point to whioh our oommon end uni
ted effort* should new be directed. And of
what can we aaeure them to induce them to
go in ilh ne in the action proposed! Why,
we car. assure them with united voice and
without hesitation, that the electoral vote ol
this State will be given to the candidate whom
we have named. We can tell them with en
tire truth, that members of the opposite par
ly by hundreds nnd thousands have been con
sidering the nomination of Mr, Buchanan,
and stand ready to endorse it. If he be nom
inated, they are with us. I know many such.
I have heard, and others have heard, many
such voices of late, of active members of
what was recently the Whig party. This
nomination, therefore, has strength vastly be
yond the limits of our own party. It grasps
and collects the suffrages of honest, indepen
dent, patriotic men, who have never before
been with us. What more deed we urge up
on the Democratio party of other Slates and
those representing it 1 Why, sir, we can point
them to the fact, that at this moment, from
the Atlantic coast westward, through all the
Central States, where the battle of the Con
stitution is to be fought out, there is no man
who can be named as the peer and equal, on
grounds of fitness, of the candidate whom we
have named. The distinguished citizen of
Michigan, long and favorably known to our
people, ia not before tho country in connec
tion with this subject. Excepting one or two
of all the great men who commenced public
life thirty years ago—of all that band of wor
thies that have distinguished the history of
our own Slate, or ol the general government,
from these Middle States, and especially
from Pennsylvania, there is but one proud,
bold head yet above the waves. (Applause.)
So.ne of them have been struck down by the
hand of death—some have fallen away from
us in the presence of hot contests and from
apostates at first, have become open and
eventually insignificant enemies. (Ap
plause.) And, some have been found oth
erwise unfit for, or unworthy of the continu
ed confidence and respect of the people.—
But, sir, through all vicissitudes, when our
glanoe hasgor.e abroad inßearch ot the faith
ful and the great, one figure has fixed atten
tion and commanded respect. There [.sb
been with him a steady virtue and a mental
power, that hare confounded his enemies
and fixed him firmly in the affections of the
When we have looked, of recent years, for
one who stood up like a whole man in for
mer times and yet stands up : who has trav
eled through the storm and the tempest with
unimpaired powers and popularity, but one
man meets the expected gaze, and that man
is James Buchanan. (Applause.) Sir our
people have been thinking of this thing for
some years. They have thought upon it ear
nestly, they have turned it over in their
minds as they pursued their avocations in
their respective neighborhoods, and they
have expressed here to-day, through their
delegates, the conclusions to which they have
come. May we not trust that ibid voice, thus
intelligent and thus decided, will be respect
ed by our sister States when they assemble
in council in June next. Yes, sir, there is no
other candidate in the central portion of the
Union who can be presented as the fair and
equal competitor of the choice of this Con
vention; no other msn about whose name
such recollections, such evidences of fidelity
and ability are gathered, as to who is now
proposed as our standard beater in the com
ing campaign, and who will secure to us, if
nominated, a signal triumph.
But what morel When I read, either
Dackwards or forwards tlie ntstory of oar
Commonwealth, I perceive, and allerwards
recollect, one important and striking fact;
and it is this:—that while the little coast
bound State of Massachusetts and the State
of Virginia, inferior to our own in many re
spects, have often furnished incumbents for
the Presidential Chair, our own Stale has
been overlooked, if not forgoiton. W® hav®
occasionally reminded our brethren of the
other States of some moderate and modest
pretensions which we hold to on this sub
ject, but for one reason or another they have
never yet received their attention, and they
have not acceded to our wishes.
Sir, the time has come when this favor
ought no longer to be refused to this noble
Slate of ours. (Applause.) The time has
come when a fair claim of right arise* on
our behalf, acd when it is our duty, founded
upon sell respect, to urge it with zeal and a
determination that it shall be acknowledged.
There are reasons why Pennsylvania should
be listened to by the other States. In the
most critical moment of every political en
gagement, of every political contest, since
the foundation of our general government,
to what point of the Union has the anxious,
strained gaze of the Democratic party been
turned ? Whither? Why, sir, in a letter of
Mr. Jefferson's—written in the dark and
stormy day* when he lifted up that flag
which those who came after him have held
up since—he wrole : —"Let but Virginia
maintain her position and Pennsylvania
stand firm upon her basis, and our Union
will be perpetual and our prosperity bound
less." [Great Applause.) Yes, Sir, there
was then an anxious, patriotio eye turned
from the heights of Monticello towards Penn
sylvania, in hope, for the rescue of principle
from the contests of faction. Away back,
half a century ago, the sagacity of Mr. Jef
ferson discovered in this State the foundation
npon whioh Republicanism could safely real;
be pronounced, his judgment that so long as
■ha stood with Virginia upon solid principles
everything was well, and the prosperity of
the country secure and certain. It has been
so aioce. In every party emergenoy, when
the cause of the Republican Democratio par
ty looked dim and doubtiul, when faint hearts
failed, .when the treacherous fell from
us, and the feeble halted in their- course,
Pennsylvania waa looked to ae the point
from which redemption must come. Sir,
we have ordinarily been faithful to these ex
pectations. Time after time, when the battle
was doubtful, and threatened logo against
our party, Pennsylvania came forward and
grasped victory from the jaws of despair.—
We have also in other respects performed
our duty to our sister States and to the Union.
No State stood forward more promptly to form
the Constitution and Government of the Uni
ted States; to establish solid, benevolent and
patriotic piinciples aa the base of this struc
ture,'which has become the admiration of the
world. We have, air, assisted our sister
Slates when their interests were involved or
their rights in jeopardy. To protect the Vir
ginia frontier and Kentucky settlements a
gainst the treacherous savage, our soldiers
rushed into the wilderness under "Mad An
thony Wayne." In the war of 1812, in the
western wilderness, along the Northern Lakes
and upon the Atlantic seaboard, Peonsylva
nians ware found laboring and suffering to
uphold the common interests ol the States
and maintain the honor of the national flag.
Sir, there are many here to whom I may ap
peal as witnesses, that in the more recent
struggle in which our Nation was involved,
on a distant soil, under a tropical sun, from
the shores of the Gulf far away into the in
terior of Mexico, the Pennsylvania Volun
teers plodded their weary way, fighting when
required, suffering where suffering was to be
endured, and zealously assisting to uphold
the American character for fortitude aud
prowess before the civilized world. Why,
sir, upon an appeal from Simon Snyder, the
Democratic Governor of this Stale, at a time
when Massachuseets relused the jails to the
general government for prisoners of war,
our Legislature opened ours wide for nation
al use, snd gave an additional evidenoe of
that patriotic spirit which I trust will always
be chsracterislic of our people.
We have been very much complimented,
sir. We have received compliments without
number. This State ffas been literally load
ed with them. She has been complimented
during her whole history, for half a century,
; for her steadiness of purpose, her devotiou
to the Union, the valor of her sons, and for
I all those public virtues that elevate a Stale
j and makes her admired and respected among
I the nations.
Have you not heard it said just before an
important national election, that "as Penn
sylvania goes so goes the Union," as goes
Pennsylvania so is the result; and the hearts
of our brethren in other Siaieshave made us
to dance with joy when Pennsylvania has
gone as they desired her lo go. Yes ; sir,
they have rejoiced exceedingly, and been
deeply gratelul for our efforts, devotion end
zeal. I speak in ail kindness, with a proper
appreciation of these compliments which
have been showered upon us. We hare
been assigned a very important position in
what is designated as the "federal arch" (an
expression which 1 confess I have never ex
actly comprehended.) This State has been
called the kevstone of that arch ; which holds
it in place, and without which It would crum
ble into ruins; without which everything
would go to destruction connected with it.—
We have been told- that upon this State has
rested the Republican system of government;
that it has constituted the base of it, and that
our steady and solid population ate to be re
lied on under all circumstances. All this is
well enough, and agreeable enough, but we
can afford to dispense with further compli
ments, and therefore, what we now ask of
I our sister States of the Union, ia this : that
waiving all pleasant words, the coinage of
kindness, politeness, or gratitude, they give
us the request that we are about to make of
them. [Loud and long oontinued applause.]
We ask them to do thia as no special or sole
favor to Pennsylvania, but as a thing in it
sell honest, Honorable, and withnut reproach,
and above all, as one in which their welfare
and our own are jointly and mutually inter
Mr. President, they will do it. Sir, the
Convention that is to meet in June next,
will do it. I venture to pronounce this upon
evidence that appears conclusive to my own
mind. 1 venture to pronounce it upon infor
mation received from other quarters of the
Union. 1 venture to pronounce it, because
it ia ao reasonable and just a thing, that I be
lieve the Democratic parly will not miss do
ing it. I believe it will be done, because it
is seen, and can ba seen, by all intelligent
members of our party in all parts of the Uni
on, the nominauou of Mr. Buchanan gives
us a political position so broad and strong,
that all the power of the combined political
opposition in the country caqnot prevail
against us. Be it understood, then, in the
first place, that Pennsylvania, in this nomi
nation, is in earnest; in the next, that she is
thoroughly united , and, in (be last, that in
her judgment, it would be unwise, and pos
sibly disastrous, lor other Slates to refuse a
concurrence in her action.
I have spoken suddenly and impromptu,
and have addressed myself simply to the
duties of the occasion imposed upon mem
bers of this Convention and those chosen by
them to represent the popular will. I say to
all, there is a public, national duty npon ns
to unite in securing the nomination of Mr.
Buohanan, at Cincinnati. The reasons for it
are many and weighty; but 1 have only
glanced at some ot those most prominent
and obvious. Suffioe it to say, our hearts
and judgment* sanction this whole raove-
I ment. Together, heart and soul, without
| faction, without opposition, without divis
ions, aye, air, without protest, we go into
this thing, and we aak that the other States,
for their own iuterasts and honor, as well as
onra, and for the success of our party, may
join with us, and permit the people of Penn
sylvania lo show what kind ot a majority
they can give for a Pennsylvania Candidate
for President of the United State*. (Great j
Truth aud Bight God aud our Uuutry.
For the "Star of the Notlh."
MADAME DUDEVANT, who under the above
name writes five French books in a year, is
the personification of that impulsive temper
ament which characterises the French peo
ple ; and carries even French waywardness
to the extreme. She is a "fast" woman in
a "fast" nation and a "fast" age—a creature
all nerve and passion— to whom masoning
is Greek, and cool discretion all Hebrew.—
Not that her impulse is never reasonable nor
discreet; for impulse may prompt to good as
well as to evil. But her impetuous spirit
never stops to question reason or discretion,
and therefore consults (hem rather by acci
dent than design. Her plots and pictures
are not always consistent with themselves,
for evidently her pen only catches the faint
outlines of these pictures as they fly through
a busy, restless mind.
An honest, healthy instinct is generally
a safe guide, but the moral sentiment very
easily becomes morbid and sickly when it
does not rest on the basis of mental convic
tion and reason. In this country "Fanny
Fern" is the imitation ol "GEORGE SAND,"
and possesses all the characteristics of the
"fast" French woman. But perhaps we
should not say woman, for "George" has not
only the name and alt the boldness and dash
ing assurance of the hero sex; but has even
excelled blooming "Young America," and
doned the coat of male in full. She says it
was first assumed by her for the sake of econ
omy ; beoause she could not then afford to
be a walking sampler of a silk store, and
carry on her person a small jewelry shop,
upon her income of fifty dollars per month.
The activity of this lady increases with
her years. In less than twelve months she
has finished her Memoirs, written a cosraical
romance entitled Evenor et Leucippe, written
and superintended the rehearsals of Maure
Favilla at the Odeon, Lucie at the Gymnase,
and Francoise at the Cornedie-Francaise, (not
yet played.) In all, five works.
In GEO. SAND'S last piece, Lucie, a young
American is the hero. It is the first time
American character has been introduced on
the Frenoh stage. Heretofoie the English
man stood the biunt for the entire Anglo-
Saxon race. John Bull, on the French stage,
is a classic character. An evening's enter
tainment in a French theatre without the ap
parition of a blustering Englishman would
scarcely be complete. Neither would a
theatrical company possess the requisite en
semble without one or more artists who could
amy "Yes," "No," "Zank you, Zir!""Very
goot," and "Very well."
Yet it must have astonished every one
that, with the French love for abstractions
and refinements in the arts, they had not be
fore thought of separating the American
frdm the Englishman on the stage. The
American character, or especially the "Young
American" character, shows itself distinc
tive enough on the Boulevards of Patis, not
to be confounded witn the English charaoter,
end all French writers have themselves made
the distinction. But whether it be for ridi
cule or flattery, we hail the innovation of
Madame Sand with pleasure, since it is a
recognition of nationality, apart from the
English. As the Frtnch Theatre exerts a
wide influence, the installation of the Amer
ican character, whether well or badly rep
resented, cannot but operate advantageously
in a national point of view.
The piece of Midline Sand ii the history
of a quiet, chaete, severe family, without
any straining at effect. A young seaman
returns to the paternal house ; he finds his
heritage devoured ; a servant-mistress during
his absenoe has taken possession of the head
and heart of his father. A child is the re
sult of the relations with the servant, and in
place of this child, dead-born, they substi
tute the daughter of an old huetsmau, the
interesting Lucie, whose dream is to restore
to him whom she believes to be her brother,
his lost property. All this work of captation
is hid behiud the curtain. The aotion, from
the moment it oommences, brings only the
sweetest emotion. The young sailor recov
era his heritage end naturally shares it with
his supposed sister. This result causes a
lively displeasure to a young American, vi
olently in love with Lucie. The original ele
ment of (he piece is in this personage. Mad
ame Sand has given him a phlegm purely
Brittannic, with an obstinate pretension to
the most volcanio passion*. He is, no doubt,
har most perfect conception of an Amerioan;'
and if the innovation of Madame Sand is to
be followed np on the French stage, let us
hope never to see a worse travestie than the
one in question. But it is to be hoped, also,
that the coarser varieties of American pro
ducts will not alone figure on the French
stage; for there is something revolting in
those personages who swear as much against
nature aa against society, who carry willingly
the advertisement of their < characler swung
to a cord around their neck, and whose ef
fects upon the scene are produced by a stud
ied coarseness.
There it much likeness between the French
and American character; and each may be
willing to lake a lesson from the follies mir
rored in the picture of the other.
The following is Madame Dudevant'a rec
ord of her mind and manner in wearing male
"These observations and contingencies had
occurred to me before establishing myself in
Paris, and 1 bad applied to my mother to
solve this problem, seeing her live very much
at her ease, and well dressed, on the three
tnousand five hundred frances a year: how
it is possible to dress, even in the plainest
way, in this frightful climate, unless one stays
at home seven days in the week? Her an
swer was: 'At my age, and with my habits,
it is very easy ; but when I was young, and
your father had but little money, he decided
to dress me as a boy. My sister did the same,
and we warn everywhere on foot with our
husbands, and to the theatre ; wherever we
chose, it saved as much as one-half of our
income.' This idea amused me at first, and
then struck me as very ingenious. As a
child, I had been dressed as a boy; I had
hunted in a blouse and gaiters with Deschar-
Ires, and I found it very easy to resume a
dress which was cot new to me. At that
time the fashion made it easy to disguise
one's self. The men of that day wore long
square frock-coats, called a la proprietaire,
which reached to their heels, and had so lit
tle fit, that when my brother appeared in his
at Nohant, he said, laughing, 'lt is not nice
—such an easy fashion. l the tailor takes the
measure of a sentry-box, and fits a whole re
giment !'
"So I had a sentry-box coat made for my
self, of coarse gray cloth* with trousers and
waistcoat of the same. With a gray cost and
a woolen muffler, f looked precisely like a
student in bis first year. I cannot describe
the pleasure I took in my boots; I should
have been glad to sleep in them. With these
iron heels I was sure-footed on the pavement,
and flew from one end of Paris to the other.
I fait aa if I could have walked round the
world ; and then I had'nothing to fear for
my dress. I went out in all weather, came
home at all hours, and set in the pit of all the
theatres. No one noticed me, nor suspected
my disguise ; not only 1 wore it easily, but
the absence of all coquetry in it and in me avert
ed suspicion. 1 was too badly dressed, and
looked too simple (with my accustomed wan
dering air, bordering on stupidity) to attract
or arrest attention. Women very seldom know
how to disguise themselves, even an the stage.—
Tidy will not sacrifice their small waists, their
little feet, their graceful movements, their spark
ling glances ; and by all these things, but more
particularly by the expression of face, they are at
once recognized. There is a way of slipping
about which makes no one turn to look, and
a deep, low tone of voice which does not
sound like a flute to ears which may chance
to hear. In short, not to be remarked as a man,
one must be in the habit of passing unnoticed as
a woman.
" I never went alone to the pit of the thea
tres. Not that people are worse behaved
there than elsewhere, but on account of the
paid clappers and the unpaid parly, who,
about that time, were very quarrelsome.—
There was a good deal of pushing at the first
representations, and 1 was not strong enough
to stem a crowd. I always took my place in
the midst of my compatriots from Berry, and
they did their best to protect me. One night,
however, we were sealed near the chande
lier, and I, without thinking, gave a frank
and hearty yawn. The Romaoa tried to pink
a quarrel with me: they treated me lika a
barber's boy. I then found I was very pas
sionate and violent when offence was given ;
and bad not my friends been sufficient in
force to command the respect of the clappers
I believe I should have been killed. This
period of whioh I speak whs • mere acoiden
lei episode in my life, though it hu been
said that for (everal year* I dressed in thia
way, and although ten years after, my son,
who bad then no baard, was often taken for
rae. Whilst on this sabjeet, I will relate
how, at the first representation of 'La Heine
d'Espagne,' by Delatouche, I played a little
comedy on my own account.
I "I had author's tickets, and on this occa
sion took my ease, dressed in my gray suit,
in the balcony, just under a box in wbioh
M'lte Leverd—a clever actrese, who had been
pretty, bnt had lost her looks by the small
pox—was displaying a superb bouquet,which
she bad dropped ou my shoulder. I was
not man eoough to pick it up. 'Young man,'
said she, with a mtjesiio air, 'my bouquet—
! woll!—' I pretended not to hear. 'You are
not very gallant,' said sn old gentleman by
my side, springing forward to pick up the
bouquet. 'At your age I was not so absent.'
He presented the bouquet to M'lla Leverd,
who exclaimed, affectedly, 'Ah, indeed, it
this really yon, Monsieur Kollinat V and they
began apeaking about the new pieie. So,
thought I, here is a coustiyman who will, I
suppose, recognize me, though I do not re
member ever seeing him. M. Rollinat,Sen
ior, was the first lawyer in our department.
While he was talking with M'lle Leverd, M.
Duris Dufresun, who was in the orchestra,
came to say, 'How d'ye do Vto me. He had
seen me before in my disguise, and taking
M. Rollinat's plaoe by my side, he began to
talk to me, I remember, abont La Fayette,
whom he wished me to know. M. Rollinat
came back to his plact, and they spoke to
each other in whispers; the deputy took
leave, witj) rather too much coremony for
my appearanae. Luckily the lawyer did not
peroeive it, and said, as he took his seat:—
'We are compatriots, it teems. Our deputy
tells me you are a very distinguished young
msn—®xcuse rae, but I should take you for
a child. How old are you—fifteen or six
teen V 'And yon, sir,' said I, 'you, who are
a very distinguished lawyer—how old are
you !' 'Oh, I, said he, laughing, 'am past
seventy.' 'Well, then, like me, yon do not
look your age.' My auswer pleased bim,and
we continued ihe conversation. Though 1
have never been very clever, yet a woman,
if evftr so little clever, is always more so than
a student.
'•The following year, M. Dudevant intro
duced Francis Rollinat to me, whom he had
invited to Nohant to spend a few days, and I
asked him to question his father about a lit
tle fellow with whom he had chatted a good
deal, at the first and last representation of
'La Reine d'Espagne.' 'Why,' replied Rolli
natr 'only the other day, in speaking of edu
cation, my father referred to him. He men
tioned being struck by the quick intelligence
and easy manners of the youth of the present
day, and among others, of one who had talk
ed to him of everything, like a professor, al
though be confessed he knew neither Greek
nor Latin* and studied neither law nor medi
cine.' 'And did it not etrike your father that
the little professor might be a woman V—
'Was it yon?' exclaimed Rollinat. 'Yes.'
'Well, in all the conjectures to which your
name, which was not to be traoad, gave rise,
that is the only one thst did not occur to him
or to us. He wss both impressed and puz
zled ; he atill inquires about it, and 1 shall
not undeceive him. Give me leave to pre
sent him, without telling him anything.' 'Do
so; but he will not recognize me, for it is not
probable he looked at me.'
"I was mistaken; M. Rollinat bad looked
to such good purpose at my face, that as soon
as he saw me he gave a great jump and ex
claimed, 'What a fool I was!' "
Spring, the advent of which poets delight
to celebrate as the wind-winged emblem of
hope, and love, and youth, and gladness,
will soon be upon us, and grand nature hold
her festival. We could not mar the fair pic
ture by any ill-tiined shading. Let it remain
to be enjoyed by all who have a taste for na
tural beauties, and are blessed at the same
time with the buoyancy of health and con
stitutional vigor. We would, however, that
it should be temperately enjoyed by even
this description of persons. Our province
heeds us not to turn away ungraciously or
ungratefully from the rich stores of the sea
sons, which a bountiful Providence spreads
before us, but rather to prolong the pleas
ure by a temperate and discriminating use.
The sluggil movompntß and pale shmnjg,
skin, induced by wintry cold, will soon be
succeeded by the light bounding step, car
nation tint, and sparkling eye. The tenden
cies of all animated nature, even to the veg
etable creation, will be to expansion, parts
of the body, before, in a measure torpid,
will be excited—the senses more acute, the
feelings and intellect more susceptible of va
ried and energetic display. All the sympa
thies between organs will become doubly
active. The great changes of temperature,
and in the direction and force of the wind, at
this season, in which one day differs from
another as greatly as summer is at variance
with winter, are attended by corresponding
mutations in the activity of the functions of
the living body. The skin, warmed and ex
cited to perspiration in the noon-tide sun,
will, without due precaution, be chilled,
and have its pores suddenly clospd by the
keen, cold air of the evening and night.—
The hurried breathing and oirculation, by
the active exercises of a vernal day, are of
ten causes of painful palpitations, pains in
the side and head aches, especially when
they co-incide with a sudden obstruction to
perspiration. The sensibilities of the di
gestive organs being increased, the fall diet
of winter, will tend, if persisted in, to give
rise to fever, and aid in evolving inflamma
tion of the Inngs or of the liver, or rouse into
[Two liollara per A DRIB.
action latent irritations of the skin. In fine
there is a general tendency to perturbation
in the vital movements of the animal econ
omy. Every part is prone to be excited,
and to transmit its disturbances to other
parts. Is the skin obstructed in its office, it
makes the throat, lungs, and muscles suffer
—as wo see in sore throats, coughs, pleuri
sies, spitting of blood, and rheumatism. Let
the stomach be overtasked, and the com
plaints of the dyspeptic are redoubled—
finished cheeks and sick-headache become
his constant companions. The person who
has suffered from intermittent fever during
the preceding autumn, is now in danger un
less due precautions are taken, of a return
of the "shakes." Scrofula, little trouble
some during the winter, now breaks out
with renewed violence—the glands., or small
round bodies along the neck, on each side,
become enlarged and painful, and if neg
lected they ulcerate. Diseases of the skin,
whether tetter or other, also become trouble
some at this time, and give their possessor
most unpleasant notice of the rousing of
sensibilities, which had been, in • measure,
dormant through the winter.
This may strike our non-professional read
ers as a dark catalogue,—and a most start
ling and painful contrast with the highly
colored and enchanting accounts of the po
ets. But our hope is that it may arrest their
attention, and guide them to profitable mus
ings on the risks to which they are exposed:
for no one can boast his entire immunity
from danger, and consequent freedom from
the necessity of precautions. These we
shall endeavor to give with plainness and
brevity. They constat mainly in attention
to clolking, exercise, and diet. No sudden, or
for a lenght of time yet to come, any dimi
nution of the winter clothing should be at
tempted. Exercise should be moderate
less than could have been safely taken in a
clear winter's day. If from any unforseen
or unavoidable cause, great bodily exertion
have been used, so as to induce perspiration
and fatigue,—rest in the open air, or re
maining stationary in passages or cold rooms
must bo carefully avoided. Any feeling of
chilliness or aching of the limbs at night,
ought to be met by a warm foot-bath, fric
tions with flannel or a flesh brush, and a
draught of simple warm herb, or, which it
more efficient, composition tea. (See page
15 of Rsroaucß.)
Increase of thirst, feverish heat, pains of
the head, or palpitations, with a sense of
languor or uneasiness are best obviated—not
by much medicine taking, but—by a reduc
tion of the usual quantity of food, especial
ly of the animal portion.
This is the season when persons afflicted
with skin diseases are thought to have their
Ttlood in an impure state, and to be under
the necessity of having recourse to the va
rious popular depurative syrups, decoctions,
and what not. They prove fine game for
unscrupulous nostrum-makes and venders,
and become ready dupes of such characters.
Well we profess to have ourselves some pu
rifying and alterative agencies, in the virtues
of which we place great reliance. But be
fore introducing the more prominent of these
to notice, we must beg pardon of those la
boring under scrofulous and cutaneous affeo
tioss to whom they are in a peculiar man
ner beneficial, for the two notable drawbacks
to our winning their approbation and confi
dence. The first is, they cost Utile or nothing—
the second, they are of good taste, and with
healing virtues so unequivocally sanctioned
by the wise and experienced of all ages and
countries, as neither to require nor claim
any puffing notice or lying eulogy I They
are not of tlio class, nor have they any re
lationship whatever with those marvelous
agents which are pompously introduced to
public notice as hurting nobody and curing
everybody—which an infant might swallow
with impunity, and the most desperate lep
er take with full assurance of his being
cleansed from all impurities as entirely as
the Syrian of old, after bathing, by the
prophet's command, in the waters of Jor
dan. No, nothing of the kind. But to come
to the point—they are good pure water, and
good pure milk. Copious potations of tho
former, at this season will be found the very
best purifier of the blood and remover of
"peccant" matter; while the latter, as an ar
ticle of diet, with good light bread, baked
on the preceding day, with vegetables, may
,be recorded as the graml —a uas
tonic. Cheap and pleasant, within the reach
of rich and poor, and gratefully pleasant to
the taste, they will be found Nature's genu
ine restorative and elixir of life. When these
are insufficient, then the advice of some
competent medical man should be sought—
a man who appreciates and enforces na
ture's great remedies, reverences her lawe
as manifested in the mechanism of the hu
man body, and prescribes only such agen
cies as act in concord with them.
If any of our readers happen to be eulo
gists of panaceas, and balsams, and balms,
of patent pills and powders, lovers of wonder
ful cures, and searchers after the incredible,
we trust that they will have patience with
us for our proffering of the language of na
ture and common sense, which at the pres
ent day is wonderfully at discount, and that,
heedless of the specious logic of the char
latan and the flaming appeals of the nos
trum gentry, they will take time to give the
teachings of these the attention their impor
tance really demands. Tbey will be wiser,
and better too, if they act in obedience to thorn.
Medical Ktfbrvur.
tW A rich jour printer is found out west.
He is being exhibited with ring-tailed mon
keys, wild hogs, shaved horses, three log
ged calves and other trinkets.

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