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VOL.1. WASHINGTON CITY, SATURDAY, .JULY 14, 1838. NO. 49.
Printed by J. C. IHJSS ,br ll.e X. A. Aviation. PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. T,';iR^;.7^ub"I"iI>,io"s r?' ?"e yar, $2 30 in advance, ii ai I1?1! il* e,i4' ?f three months. For six non is, pi ,?o in advance. Advertisements inserted at the usual rates. All letters relating to the pecuniary interests of the Pa JAMES C DUN''* l>OS,Jtje paiJ? to the ,,,,bli8,,er. All letters relative to the Editorial department to he di rected, postage paid, to the Eililor of I he Native Jiturican. Those subscribers for a year, who do u?t give notice of their wish to have the paper discontinued at the end of I heir year, will be presumed as desiring its continuance I until countermanded, anil it will accordingly be contin- I Utfu at the option oi the publisher. From the Newark Sentinel. THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. HISTORY. The study of history has comunmded itself to considerate men, of all ages, perhaps more gene rally than any braneh of intellectual pursuit. Holding a middle place between mere entertain ment aud abstruse research, it has allured into its wide and vifriegated fields the curious and the reflecting of every different walk in life. Audi this is reasonable and easy of explanation. Often has it boen said, till the sentence has grown into a proverb, that 'History is Philosophy teaching by Example.' Often have the words of the Roman orator been reiterated, that 'Not to know what happened before one was born, is%> be always a child.' If our great statesmen could be fairly questioned, it would be found, that they have gained more concerning the principles of govern ment, from the story of former times, than from I all their perusal of abstract treatises. 1 he American Mechanic is a freeman; he is [ one of that people to whom we ascribe sove reignty. If independent i i his way of thinking, he must needs be, to a certain extent, a politician. I In point ol fact, all men, of all vocations, in this country, undertake to talk about the measures oi l government, and to give some reason for the party attachments and their votes. Here we find a good argument for the study of history, by working men. But to this we must add other signal and ac knowledged benefits, which flow from historical reading, whenever, and by whomsoever pursued. I It enlarges our knowledge of the world, and gives new views of human manners; it lifts us above the petty circle of our city or our Stale, and brings us into a felt relation to the great system ol events; it allords a lively commentary on the happy or baneful tendencies of virtue and vice; and it displays in the most striking manner the wise and wonderful plans of Divine Providence. Before the unhappy multiplication of novels and romances young men sought their chief men tal refreshment in historical reading; and there is cause for believing that by reason?of this differ once, the rising race is likely to be less acquaint ed with past events than their fathers were. A inorlml taste for the excitements of romantic fic tion has depraved many a mind, and in so?ie measure placed history nearer than it once stood I to what are considered severe studies. Never theless, after having dreamed away golden hours over many scores of novels, I am confident in saying, that in the long run, history is more en tertaiug than romance. Truth, it has been said, is more interesting than fiction; and the more a m m extends his reading, the deeper will be his conviction of this truth. Few men could spend a week in reading novels, and nothing else; but many men spend delightful mouths upon the an nals of great events. It is an unconscious ho mage to this quality of authentic narrative, that some of our greatest novelists have chosen to in terweave the events of true history in their mosl successful romances. No patriotic American "would willingly confess that he does not feel his soul more stired by the unvarnished tale of revolutionary conflict, than bv the exciting scenes, of any fiction whatever; and the wonderful, unexpected, and rapid changes and convulsions of the French Revolution reach the passions with a mightier influence, than all the feigned terrors of tragic Muse. As we extend our reading of history, this inter est, far from decreasing, grows exceedinly in strength, so that, there is no branch of study which so uniformly gains upon the affections of its ^votaries. In the field of romance, the factitious emotion becomes dull and dies away; but in his torical researches, the studies of our youth con tinue to be the solace even of our old age. I It will be suitable for me to add a suggestion,) as to the method in which history - majTbe ad vantageously studied; and these shall be'adapted to the case of such as are not surrounded by co pious libraries. First, let it be observed, that no man, in one lifetime, can read all history; and that it is altogether undesirable to attempt any thing like this. Consequently, every thing de pends upon the wise selection; both as to sub jects, and authors. All historv is not equally valuable to all; and time may be deplorablv wast ed over an annalist who is inaccurate, prolix, or obscure. Secondly: method is as important here as any where. By method in history, I simply mean "beginning at the beginning. Experience as sures me that half our labor would be saved, if we would cross the stream nearer to its source, or assault the tree nearer to its root. My grand counsel then is this: Jlegiu with srcneraJs and from these descend to particulars. Proceed as the draughtsman does; first, sketch a rapid outline, then give the minuter touches, and at length, if time permit, add the more delicate lights and shades. Or in still plainer terms, begin with some very brief, and compendious, but clear and masterly view of general history; such an aid we have in two invaluable aud well known works of Tyler. A good chronological chart would afford an outline still more general. Then proceed to gain a more familiar acquaintance, first with an cient, and afterwards with modern history. Thirdly: Beware of the false supposition, that j every part of your picture is to be tilled up with equal care and minuteness. Where the planta tion is vast, the wise planter cultivates in well chosen spots. Be thankful that you are not called upon to know every thing. For exam ple, the history of Carthage is less important than that of Home; the former to most men, only as subsidiary to the latter; the one you will curso rily peruse; to the other you will repeatedly resort through life. Again, the history of the German States may he adequately learned in an epitome; the history of England and Ame rica you will study in some detail. So again, in the case of a single country, you may very soon gain all you need ahout the British Hep tarchy, hut you will dwell with assiduity and delight on the annals of the Reformation, the Civil Wars, and Revolution. And ahove all, you will naturally and with eagerness, peruse almost every book within your reach, upon the subject of our own free institutions, and the strug gles in which they had their birth. Fourthly: with the cautious and provisions given ahove, after having mastered your outline of general history, you may safely consult your own pleasure, and read wherever you have a mind. When the canvass is once prepared and the great lines chalked out, it matters little whe ther the painter works upon the l.ead of an Achilles, or the buckle or his armor, provided he keeps on wording. Never did old Sliak speare speak more pregnant truth than When he said, "No profit grows, where no' pleasure is taken." What we learn by snatches, in mo ments when the mind is warm and ductile, is most apt to leave abiding traces. Lastly: Tie not unduly perplexed with the vain effort to charge your memory with mere dates. One hour over a good chronological table will in this respect do more for you than months of study. Often recur to such a table or chart, and you will soon discover that the great cardinal and leading dates will fix themselves, without a separate endeavor. From the New York Slur. THE S PI It I T B IRD. . Soma twenty years ago, I sailed from Boston in the good brig Nightingale, of about 200 tons burthen, commanded by Nicodemus Melville, Esq., and bound on a voyage to Pcuierara. The foremast hands consisted of six^ablc seamen, be sides myself; but this being only my second voyage, I was rated as an ordinary seaman. We were all strangers to each other, and being but young in years, and still younger in knowledgej of the world, and human nature, 1 naturally felt solicitous to learn something of the characters of the men with whom I was destined in all human probability to associate, almost exclusively, for several months. I soon ascertained, however, to my satisfaction, that my shipmates, with one ex ception, were real jovial, honest, single-hearted tars, men of iron frames, who could crack their joke, toss off their glass of grog, spin a long yarn, and handle a marlingspike or a handspike as knowingly and gracefully as any 'old salts' that ever sailed on blue water. But there was one man on board, who shipped und~v the name of Jim Thompson, whose appear ance and conduct puzzled me exceedingly, and in a short time became the theme of conversation among all hands. lie did not seem inclined to associate with the rest of the crew, he never asked a question, and when addressed, he answered only in monosyllables. lie was never seen to smile, and from his pallid cheeks, his restless eye, and sombre countenance, it was evident that anguish was preying on his heart. But Thompson was a thorough seaman. lie was athletic and active, and indefatigable in tliej performance of his duties. If all hands were) called, Thompson was on deck in an instant; and if the word was passed to reef topsails, lie sprung aloft like a cat, and was at the weather earing before the yard was clued down on the cap. If a top-gallantsail was to be furled, or a top-gallant-yard or .mast to be sent down in a gale of wind, Thompson was in the cross-trees before any other man was in the rigging. Indeed, he seemed always desirous to be employed about something, and the more laborious or hazardous his occupation, the better he seemed pleased, fIe partook of the ship's fare but sparingly, and never drank his grog. The first day after leav ing port, his allowance was handed him by the steward, and much to the astonishment of that sable functionary, he seized the glass, and hurled it with its contents overboard, muttering some thing between his teeth about "poisonous, mur derous liquor." " A queer chap, that," said Jack Robine, " to toss his grog overboard. If he had only passed it this way. I would have stowed it in a snug locker, where it would never have come athwart his haw ser. I say, steward, 'tis a pity such good stufT should be lost. So in future, just hand me over that fellow's allowance." Jack Robine sagely concluded that something was wrong in Thomp son's upper works, otherwise he would never have refused his grog?and as tcmperance ships were not in vogue in those days, the rest of the crew were pretty much of Jack's opinion. In about a fortnight we reaclfcd the "horse latitudes," and Thompson's demeanor was still the cause* of much speculation among the crew. He was seldom known to turn into his berth in his own watch below, and when he caught a nap on a chest, or on the windlass-end, he would mutter some incoherent sentences to himself, and in a few minutes awake with a convulsive start. Although he still envinced strength and activity in the performance of his various duties, yet his llesh bad gradually wa-sted away, and he resembled an animated skeleton, more than a be ing of flesh and blood. One day before we got into the regular trade winds, we were steering to the southward with a light air on our quarter. The sea was smooth, with the exception' of a long rolling swell which rome every now and then from the northwest. Every rag was hung out to catch the scanty bieeze, but the sails flapped heavily against the mast, and the brig moved through the water only at the sluggish rate of about a knot and a half. Thompson was at the helm. The mate and the remainder of the watch were variously employed indifferent parts of the ship, the captain was sit ting readingonthe quarter deck, under the shade of the trysail. Suddenly, Thompson was heard to exclaim, "Great God! he has come for me at last!" The captain, on lookiug up, saw a large bird, somewhat resemblinga man-of-war-bird, but having a head like an owl, hovering over the quarter deck. He told the steward to pass him his fowling piece; but before this could be done, the bird was no longer within shot, having flown about a quarter of a mile ahead of the brig, and then quietly alighted on the water. The captain went forward hoping to get a shot at the bird from the forecastle. 11c ordered the helmsman to steer directly for his intended victim, and when within about thirty yards he fired?the charge of duck shot struck the water all around the bird and laid him sprawling. Anxious to get him on board, some of the watch jumped into the chain wales, others into the bowsprit shrouds and bob stays. In a few minutes the singularly looking animal was under our bows, hands were eagerly stretched forth to grasp him, when, apparently with a convulsive effort," lie recovered his natural position in the water, stretched out his wings, and, to the unspeakable astonishment of the crew, deli berately llcw away! Thompson saw this strange scene from the quarter deck, and exclaimed, "Captain Melville, it is of no \ise to lire at that bird?you only waste your powder and shot?you can never hit it." "I'll try once more at all events," replied the captain. His fowling piece was again loaded. Mean while the strange animal had flown a few hundred yards ahead, and again settled down quietly on the water. As the ship drew near, the captain again fired. But the bird rose from the water evidently uninjured, and after soaring majestically over the quarter deck, flew awny to windward until out of sight. "I understand it alt, said Thompson, in tremu lous voice, while -the sweat of agony stood in large drops on his forehead. "Captain Mellville, you might fire at that bird till doomsday, and you would not hurt a feather of its wing. That bird is my father'a spirit, and I know why he has come. Well, I am ready." As he uttered these words, his eyes seemed to be lighted up with an unearthly fire. "What do you mean, Thompson," said the astonished captain in a soothing tone. "Your father's spirit! What nonsense is this? Come, let's have no more of such foolish talk." "Call it not foolish, Cnplaiii Melville. It is truth what I say. That bird which you shot at twice, and which flew away uninjured, is my poor murdered father's spirit. Yes, the old man lias come for me at last; and it will not be long before I join him." "Why, this is worse than folly, Thompson,? it is madness. What do you mean? What can I understand by such incoherent language?" "Captain Melville, I know I am not always in my right mind. My brain is seared to the centre?but I am not mad now. I have some thing which lies heavy at my heart, and which I should like to get clear of. I wish to make my sins known to the world?and I ask it as a favor, that you will let all hands be called. I have a dismal tale to tell, and should like to have my shipmates hear it. It may do thein some good; at any rate it can do nobody harm." There was no need of calling all hands?for we were all then standing in the waist, trying to catch the strange discourse which was passing between Thompson and the captain?and quickly obeyed the mate's signal, and gathered round Thompson on the quarter deck, who thus com menced his talc.? "My father was a respectable farmer in New Hampshire, and I was his only son. But I was from my youth possessed of a fierce, ungovernable temper, and when about fifteen years of age, my father having laid the oxgoad over my shoulders for some trifling fault, I took a solemn and wicked oath I would never work on his farm again, and that at some future day I would be revenged; and fearlessly have I kept my oath. I ran away and went to sea. For eight years I was absent from home, during which I had visited all parts of the globe. By this time my revengeful feelings became softened down, and I wished once more to behold mv parents, particularly my mother, who was always kind and indulgent. I accordingly returned to my native village. I saw my parents?so journed with them .for several weeks, and nothing occurred to damp the pleasure of mv visit, until one fatal evening, I accompanied my father to a husking frolic in the neighborhood. The (low ing bowl (accursed be its pernicious contents) passed briskly around,, and by the time our work was completed, about midnight, we all became somewhat the more merry. Indeed, my father had so far partaken of the intoxicating draught, that he could hardly walk?and I was obliged to support him on his way home, although my brain whirled round, and I could hardly walk steadily myself. When we had got about half way homo, we came to a cross road, which my father insisted was the right path; and no argument on my part could convince him that he was wrong. With all the pertinacity of a drunken man, he insisted on pursuing that route, and when I attempted to prevent him, he struck me a violent blow on the f<tec. This roused the demon within me. "Ha!" said I, "old man, a blow! You will find to your sorrow that I am a man now, and no longer to be abused by you as I was when a boy." Upon which I struck my poor inebriated father to the earth with a blow of my tint?and then the re collection of former injuries unavenged rushing in my mind, I seized a stake from the fence and struck him several times over the head, as he lay on the ground. But the fatal crime was hardly committed, ore I bitterly repented what 1 had done. I called him by name; he returned no answer. I hung over his body, and saw, by the light of the moon, the blood streaming from his disfigured visage. I would then have given worlds to have recalled him to life, for an awful voice seemed to whisper in my ear, "He is your father.'* I felt of his head,?but alas! I found that his skull was crush ed, and the grating of his bones sounded harshly on my car. I then knew that he was dead, and had received his death blow from the hand of his son! ! took the corpse in my arms and wept over it for more than an hour. At length hfelt the necessity of doing something to avoid incurring the suspicion of guilt, and I carried it to the foot of a precipice which was near, where I laid it among some rocks, and theu proceeded to the house. I entered without noise, and retired to my room, but not to sleep. In the morning my uioth -r entered my apartment, and inquired for my father. I affected great surprise and alarm at bis absence, and assured her that he having mani fested a great desire to got home, had outwalked me. and I thought he was snugly deposited in bed before I arrived. I called upon some of the neighbors, and requested their assistance to search for iny father, who in due time was found at the bottom of the precipice, with his skull frightfully fractured. No suspicions rested on me, and the old man was laid in the grave. Since that time I have never known comfort?a worm has been gnawing at iny heart. I see my father in my dreams, and sometimes when I a?n awake he stands before me. I thought if 1 eould quit the scene of my guilt, the image of my murdered pa rent would no longer haunt me. But no?ho is constantly with me. Last night, while I sat upon the windlass, 1 fell into a drowse, and saw him in the shape of the bird, that flitted around us to-dav?and he whispered in my cars, ' your time has come.' Such was the tale of blood told by the wretched Thompson, and although we all felt detestation at the unnatural crime of which he had been guilty, we could not help pitying the miserable wretch. While we were listening to the paricide's con fession, dark, .double-headed clouds rose above ihc horizon?and the appearance of the heavens betokened the approach of a heavy squall. Pre parations were made accordingly. The royals and lop-gallant-sails were furled, the courses hauled up, the top-sails clued down upon the caps, and the reef-tackles hauled out. Ere these precau tionary measures were fully executed, the dark cloud hath reached the zenith?the flashes of light ning were frequent and vivid, and the deep-toned thunder'muttered fearfully in the distance. Soon i ripple was seen on the water, followed by a ridge of miniature waves, which breaking as soon as formed, presented the appearance of a moving I 3heet of foam. "Now mind ymir helm, my lad," said the cap lain in a clear and distinct tone, to the helmsman who had relieved Thompson?"keep her right be fore it." The squall struck the brie on her starboard quarter. "Starboard your helm?-hard a star board," shouted Captain Melville. "Hard a starboard, sir," responded the man at tl,e yieim?and in a few minutes the brig was booming along before the wind, jyhich blew with the violence of a hurricane, at the iatf ol nine knots. The rain fell in torrents?and what with the roarflg of the waves?the howling and whis tling of the tempest?the dazzling brilliancy of the'ehain lightning which seemed to play around the masts, and the echoing: peals of thunder, the scene was absolutely teniflic. I he thrilling tale told by the self-accused paricide was for a while forgotten. But suddenly a strange and awful voice was heard, which sounded louder than the conflict of the elements, as if uttered by the Spirit of the Storm?"My father calls me, my poor, dear, mutdered father?I come, I come." Then with a wild and prolonged shriek of agon v, which even now rings in tnv ears, the tncmiuc I homp sou sprang on the quarter-rail, and ere anj one could prevent the fearful act, he threw himself in to the foaming ocean. No human efforts could save hiin. He rose in the eddying wake, and with his body half nut of water, with agony of the most intense description depicted on his ghastly ' features, he gave another shrill and dying scream ?then sunk to rise no more. In half an hour after this event the clouds broke away?lhe hurricane was hushed?the sun shone forth in all its wonted splendor?the brig was ploughing her way towards her destined port, im pelled by a genial breeze?when, fabulous as it may appear, two birds, similar to the one that was flying around us previous to' the storm, made their appearance. They alighted for a few mo ments on the main-top-gallant yard, and perhaps it is unnecessary to state that they were not at this time molested by the captain. 1 hey hovered a while over the quarter deck?took a few cir cles around the ship?then flew away lo the windward?and we never saw them more. BEAUTIFUL EXTRACT. BY HON. JOSKPH HOPK1NSON, I.. L. P. "The American parent does an injustice to his child which he can never repair, for which no inheritance can compensate, who refuses to give | him a full education because he is not intended for a learned profession?whatever he may intend, he cannot know to what his son may come, and if there should be no change in this respect, will a liberal education be lost upon him because be is not a lawyer, a doctor or a divine? No thing can be more untrue or pernicious than this opinion. It is impossible to imagine a citizen of this commonwealth to be in any situation in which the discipline and acquirements of a col lege education, however various and extended, will not have their value. They will give him consideration and usefulness, \yhich will be seen and felt in his daily intercourse of business or pleasure; they will give him weight and worth as a member of society, and be a never failing source of honorable, virtuous and lasting enjoy ment, under all circumstances in every station of life. Thev will preserve him from the delusion of dangerous errors, and the seduction of degra ding and destructive vices. The gambling table will not be resorted to, to hasten the slow and listless step of time, when the library oilers a surer and more attractive resource. The bottle will not be applied to, to stir the languid spirit to action and delight, when the magic of the poet is at hand lo rouse the imagination, and pour its fascinating wonders on the soul. Such gilts, such acquire ments, will make their possessor a true friend, a more cherished companion, a more interesting, beloved and loving husband, a more valuable and respected parent." j Miss Sully and Queen Victoria.?The fol lowing anecdote of our American artist, anjl his daughter, now in London, is related hv the cor respondent of the United States' Gazette: Speaking of the Queen, it appears that Mr. Sully lias had his sixth and last sitting. It does not appear?what, however, is notorious here? that the daughter of that accomplished artist lias very lately had the chance of an interview with her Majesty. The fact is, that Mr. S. wishedl her to sit one day with the royal garb on?to save the Queen the trouble?and he asked con sent, which was given. When tilings were in this position, the Queen srnt to know if Miss S. would like to see her, and came in. scene that ensued may be imagined. Hear in mind the young American lady is in the Queen s dress and seat. " The latter looked up at her in the "most amusing funny" way. according to all accounts, and behaved altogether to a charm, as of course did onr fair countrywoman, as well, though pos sibly a little talcm bv surprise. Victoria is a good hearted girl, past all doubt; and she rather likes I the Americans, I think. /\ ASSASSINATION?AMERICA. It may be asserted, without fear of contradic tion, that there is no part of the.world professing civilization, where war is not raging, in which lite is so insecure, and the murderer so sate in the in dulgence of his propensities, as in certain sections of the United States. Assassination succeed* as sassination willi such rapidity, that the daily press, even if so disposed, cannot keep up with the cui rent of events in its record of crime. There arc parts of the Union, which require the energy of Tacon for their government, and throw the blocdy scenes formerly enaeted in the Havana, altogeth er into the hack ground?for there murderers were chiefly the refuse of society, and at least slaughtered their victims in secrecy; but in ilie places to which we allude, the emulators of the "first born Cain" are frequently men of note and consideration?political leaders, lawyers, physi cians, planters?sometimes the presiding officers of legislative bodies, perhaps members of Con gress?often those who give tone to the society in which they move. The statistics of murder in the United States for six months would faqw*h ample food for meditation in this respect, ffhd would perhaps demonstrate that this slate of things arises from something radically wrtm^ in the frame-work of society?something that demo ralizes and nourishes the worst passions of man. The passing of severe laws to bear upon this matter, and the multiplication of enactments to check the progress of bloodshed, is a mere pull ing against the wind. The defect is not in the laws?mere printed paper amounts to nothing, if not animated, brought into action, and sustained by public opinion; and therefore, this 'chivalrous' assassination and murder will continue to incrci^e in despite of law-making, just so long as sympa thy is manifested for the 'good society' cut-thiont, and righting by one's own hand of injuries, either real or supposed, is regarded as a proof of manhood, and of a heroic spirit. While the man, whose passions are as violent and as unregulated as the impulses of a tiger, is considered by his neighbors as a 'noble-hearted, whole-souh d fel low,' as the phrase goes, and an utter reckless ness in every action is a title to praise, and while this false feeling extends both to judges and to juries, individuals will be their 'original selves,' and obey the promptings of their evil dispositions. Where self-control does not find a place among the virtues, it is not likely that the temper will be broken and curbed; where 'the assassination does not trammel up the consequence,'and in fact just puts a feather in the crip, impunity and encourage ment combined will cause every day to be mark ed with some such exhibition of 'heroism' or 'chivalry,' as those which continue to heap dis grace upon the country. Thesethings will goon until they effect a cure by their own excess?for who can expect reformation, when, as actually occurred a year or two since in Louisiana, a ma jor-general and a candidate for the executive chair of the commonwealth, pronounces a funeral ora tion over the grave of a murderer and a suicide, and when both arrest and trial for the takintr of life, as exemplified every day, are mere mattcis of form. A change cannot be expected until lite me of the pistol and bowie knife is a certain p.ipsport to the gallows, and until this bastard chivalry which strikes down a fellow citizen in hi's cham ber, in the street, or in the legislative hall, is choaked by the friendly officers of a Jack Ketch. A ?ew such examples?but they must be of the first class of offenders?your rich, influential, aristocratic assassins?being given in each state, would have the most wholesome effect, and when that happens, but not till then, may the people of the South and West anticipate reform. Public opinion defines crime far more effectually than law, for it is through' the influence of public opinion that the offender is brought to punish ment. Homicide must continue to flourish, let the statute book say what it may, where it stands in the light of a gentlemanly recreation, or at worst receives no more notice than Mich 'juvenile indiscretions' ?s breaking windows and beating watchmcn in the great cities.?Penuayl I vaniurb. ! Proof of French Silk.?The French have adopt ed a system of security against fraud in the ,-ulc of silks, by submitting it to examination and ex periment in an establishment called the condition. Silk exposed to a humid atmosphere, and yet more to wet, will imbibe a considerable quantity of humidity without undergoing aliy perceptible change in external appearance. This establish ment, of which there is one at Lyons and another at St. Etienne, receives about three-fourths of the whole consumption of silk. It is submitted during twenty-four hours to a temperature of from 18 to 20 degrees of Reaumur (72j to 77 of Fahrenheit), and if the diminished weight be from 2a to 3 per cent., the application of the high temperature is continued during another twenty-four hours. On a certificate-granted by the condition as to its true weight, the invoice is made out. The means of correctly ascertaining the real humidity of silk are now the subject of investigation at Lyons, and it is believed that the purity of the material will, ere long, be as accurately tested as is that of metals by an assay. The quality of silk is estimated by deniers, which represent the weight of <100 ells wound off on a cylinder; the number, of course, increases with the fineness. The Alais silk is sometimes reeled from three to four cocoons, and weighs only fr.om eight to ten deniers; sometimes from seven to eight cocoons, which will give eighteen to twenty deniers. Of French organ zines, the quality varies principally from twenty to thirty-six deniers, and of I1 rench trams from twenty-six to sixty deniers.?Dr. Bowring'a Report. ___ A vignette in Bell's Life hits oil' the cockney loafers out of employ: ?'Veil, Stuhbs, you seem ?ummat like myself, tir'il a doing of nothing. Suppose as we goes nud has a spree, jut to keep our blood iti circulation. I an't partikler to a shade vot it is?breaking vinders. twisting off knorkeig, or chiming the arey bells. It's all one to me, so as v?-e have a lark. Our masters are henjoying themselves. and I don't see vy ve shouldn't have a little rational enjoy ment as veil as the swells at the Vestend." "Come, take a swig and pass the pot, And don't sit there so melancholia; Come, mount your tile, my Buck, and trot. And let's enjoy some fun and frolic. << I'm sure yon won't refuse to go, Nor say. just now, that business hinders; There can't be^>rimer sport, you know. Than ringing bells or cracking vinders. ??Veil, Snook, your courage I von't damp ? For mischief always ripe and r>-adv; 'Tis p;>?tiine rare to smash a lamp, Or wrench a knocker otf, my Neddy!