corner ot the room, and burying his head in the bed
.lothes, tried thus to suppress his cries.
‘ Mrs. Aikin, aware that the wants of these suf.
i'erers would not justify a moment’s delay of the suc
cor they needed, called the boy to her and despatch
ed him to tier husband with a note, which she hasti
ly wrote w ith a pencil on the back of a letter.—
While he was gone, she had leisure to observe the
extreme wretchedness of the apartment, in which
there was not an article of furniture, save a straw
bed and its scanty covering. There were shreds of
the garments strewed about the floor, the ‘light
stufl',’ the poor crazed woman hud been burning to
warm her infant.
‘ "Have you been long sick, my friend she
asked, w ith the faint hope of obtaining a rational
answer.
‘ “ Sick ! sick I’’ replied the mother, “yes, a
good w hile, 1 have been sick a trifle ; the intermit
tent and the typhus, but 1 believe I am getting the
better ot it a!!, for yesterday I felt quite hungry.”
‘“And did you take any thing?” asked Mrs.
Aikin.
‘ “ Oh yes,” she answered, drawing near to Mrs.
Vikin, and whispering with an air of great self com
placency, “1 did indeed take something—all I had
n the house—an excellent thing to blunt the edge of
one’s appetite—laudanum—you know, Ma’am, it is
doctor’s stull', and the doctors know how to cure an
appetite.”
‘ “ Clod help you, poor woman 1'’ exclaimed Mrs,
\ikin.
God help me reiterated the poor creature,
with a piercing cry, “ there is no help for me,” anil
■■lie sunk on the side of the bed and wept freely.’
We could have wished that the repentance of the
dishonest hoy had been described in more striking
terms, that his sufferings might have operated as a
more effectual warning. Some readers mav pt r
haps think that the story would have been imnrov
cd if the last two paragraphs had been omitted.—
The present of the breast pins to children in a situa
tion such as is described may not appear the most
appropriate.
Extract from the \ddress of Solomon Sucthwick,
Esq. delivered at the opening oflhe Apprentices’
Library in Albany.
Let me warn you against an error, which too
many apprentices fall into, who conn ive that from
'he moment they are indented, their parents have
:io fur"her claims upon them. It is true indeed
hat the parent cannot claim any thing which is due
to the master, lint filial piety and afli-c.lion are
tics of nature which no artificial or adventitious
ties can sever. Continue, therefore, not only to
love, but to cherish, if requisite, so far as \ou can
do so, your tender and affectionate parents: and
the more especially if they are labouring under age
and infirmity, and cast into the vale of poverty.—
Give all the succor in your power to their wants,
soothe their declining years, and their infirmities,
by acts of giatitude and kindness : And beware if '
you would not kindle against you the wrath of your
eternal Judge, in the great day of account, how you
adopt any course of conduct that shall wring their
aged hearts with anguish, and precipitate their grey
hairs with sorrow to the grave, n ' never le’ it he
said of you,that you have with parricidal insensibili
ty dissolved the ties of filial aRjpction ; that you have
barbarously and wickedly
“ Steep’d a mother’s couch in tears,
And ting’d a father’s glowing cheek with shame.”
Hut rather let me anticipate, as I do with emotions
inexpressible, indescribable, that you will not only
never disturb the peace of a father’s mind, but that
your mother’s shall realize the bright, the consol
ing picture of the sweet I’oet of Hope :
“ I.o ! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps,
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps,
She, w hile the lovely babe unconscious lies.
Smiles on her slumb’ring child with pensive e\ es,
And weaves a song of melancholy joy:—
Sleep, image of thv father, sleep, mv bnv.
No lingering hour of sorrow shall be" thine ;
No sigh that rends thy father’s heart and mine .
Bright as his manly sire, the son shall be
reform and soul: but, ah ! more blest than he '
1 Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love, at last,
Shall soothe this aching heart for all the past.
With many a smile my solitude repay.
And chase the world’s ungenerous scorn away.
And say, when summoned from the world and thee,
I lay my head beneath the willow tree.
Wilt thou, sweet mourner, at my stone appear.
And soothe my parted spirit lingering near ?
Oh ! wilt thou come, at evening hour to shed
The tears of memory o’er my narrow bed ;
With aching temples on thy hand reclined,
Muse on the last farewell l leave behind,
Breathe a deep sigh to winds that murmur low,
And think on all my love, and all my wo
I Ml'. C.urrm, one of the Editors of the New-York.
; Statesman, who has been for some time travelling
| in Europe and edifying the public with his obser
: rations, has given, in one of his last letters, an ac
! count of his visit, in l’aris, “/« tee the king am!
j rnyal fami!a t.u! in public at the palace of the Tail
\ Iccic.t—'t he following is an extract :
\\ e at length reached the dining room, which is
spacious but was filled to overflowing, even to the
w inflows, with ladies and gentlemen who had been
presented at court, and were therefore privileged
to remain during the w hole bampjet—a preroga
tive which I felt little anxiety to enjoy. Tempor
ary boxes had been erected around the hall, over
looking the table. These were filed with ladies
in foil dresses, who sat all the evening patientlv,
watching all the important movements at the fes
tive board. A little incident occurred, showing
to w hat extent a taste for such scenes is carried by j
fashionable people in Europe A general In the
l>r itish army, who bail behaved with great gallantrv
in several battles, and received two wounds in the
service of his country, tamely suffered himself to
be pushed from place to place by the waiters of
his majesty, all for the sake of seeing a man, of
probably not half the talent or worth of himself,
munch his bread and take his soup
The table was in a semi-circular form, on the
outerside of which, near the centre, the King was
seated, with the Duke d’Angouleme on his right,
the DuchesS'-dJAngouleme on his left, and the
Duchess dc Henry on the extreme right. They
all sat at respectful distances, looking cold and un
social enough, staring at the crowd, and the crowd
staring at them —His majesty is a genteel man in
his appearance, with rather a thin face, and a grey
head, with no marks of decrepitude, though n r.
at the age of sixty-nine.—There was nothing pecu
liar in his dress, lie seemed less embarrassed hr
his awkward situation, than the rest of the roys:
group, who sat like statues over their plates, while
he handled his knife and fork with a good deal <
rase and dexterity. His whole appearance is s .
like the Philadelphian, who accompanied u>, tha
tile latter lias several times been taken for tin
king, while walking the streets of Pads.
All the others are a poor lot. The Duke and.
Duchess d’Angoulcme are both coarse in their fca
turcs, particularly the latter, who lias a hold mas
dime lace, and looks as n she might be a Catharine
01 hes~... in churacter. she is said, howc\ er, to he
a woman ot talents, and to have an ascendency ii.
the caninet, whence originate all the ultra measures
ol the Government. The king has not half the
ability ot Toms \\ III. — Aware -i ins weakness,
he is inclined to relax the cords ot government, am
to pursue a popular course; out his authority is
overruled by others. 11 is son, the Dauphin, is nov.
at the age of about 5P, and looks as old as h:
father. Oil las shoulders, and after him, the young
Duke of Bordeaux, who is now a sick child and w.
not at the table, the future hopes of Trance res'.
I he Duchess ot Berry is a small, inferior looking
woman, with nothing prepossessing in her appear
anre. Both of the ladies were dressed in black,
w ith their robes profusely studded with diamonds
Our observations were limited in time to a few
minutes, occupied in passing through the room,
close by the table ; but by throwing our observa
tious into joint stock, and by balancing opinions,
we have probably arrived at a suflicient degree ot
accuracy. On the whole, this was the greatest
farce I have ever attended. It is converting the
palace into a menagerie, and the royal family into
so many lions, fur the amusement of the multitude.
—Intelligent Frenchmen consider the show, which
recurs annually, in the same light as 1 have done
It is a relic of royalty, at least two centuries behind
the age, which the mere progress of reason lux
rendered ridiculous.
VARIETY.
The marriage of Alexander III , King- of Scot
land, to Margaret, daughter of Henry II., King ot
England, both infants often years of age, occasion
ed a display of magnificence exceeding all that had
ever been seen before in England. Hesides the
Kings of England and Scotland, with their retinues,
the <pit en dowager of Scotland, who resided in
France, joined the company with a splendid train
of the nobles of that country. Notwithstanding
tlie rapine of the popes and the folly of the cru
sadrs, the nobles of England afforded to make a
most splendid display. On the marriage day, Ut
ceniher 2Gtu, Idol, a thousand English knights a;,
peared in anti.its of silk, and the day foil r.viiu- ;;l
new and different robes. Six'v Scottish knii-hts
and many others, were handsomely dressed, but th -
historian tlecl nes specifying tin- excessive profu
sion of the occasion, lest the account should apnea'
incredible and disgusting The archbl.-hop
York had the expensive honor of hi ing landlor 1 to
this jolly company, assembled from Englaud, -•