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l)c llmwt \c)wia aacDisipj Voi.. IV.] CITY OF WASHINGTON, ?7? ?wn! sa??? ?? wm?s<r?? mm ??sarw??. SATURDAY, NOVEMRE# 28, 1840. P*"' l> O K T K Y. ODE TO LIBERTY. BY THE BOSTON BAUD. When Fractio n, 'iwnth the battle stoi'in Her weary head reclined ; Ami round tier fair majestic form Oppression fain had twined : Amidst the <lin, beneath <l>e cloud, Gr at Washington appear'd, Willi daring hand roll'd back the shroud, Ami th'is the autf'rer cheer'd : "Spurn?spurn dispair! be great?be free, With giant strength arise; Stretch, stretch thy pinions, Liberty, Tuy fl tg plant in the skies : Clothe?clothe thyself in glory's robe, Let stars thy banner's gein ; Rule?rule the sea, possess the globe, Wear victory's diadem. Go tell the world a world is born, Another orb gived light, Another sun illumes the morn. Another star the night. He just, be brave, and let thy name. Henceforth Columbia be Wear?wear the oaken wreath of fame, The wreath of Liberty." He said, and lo! the stars of night, Forth to he" banner flew, And morn with pencil dipp'd in light, Her blushes on it threw. Columbia's chieftain seized the prize, All gleriously u:Turl'd, Soar'd with it to his native skies, And wav'd it o'er the world. SAMIVEL'S VISH. I vants to marrv?yes I does? I vants a little vife, To comb my 'air and vash my neck, An<! be my ail?my life. Ven Adam lived- in Paradise, He did'nt live content. Till from his side a lib vos took, And into voman beut. Ju=t think how Adam must have stared Vlien first he got avake, And found himself a married inan, Vithout e'en vedding cake. I visli that I could do the same? Jnst go to slepp some night, And vake up in the morning vith A vife to Mess my sight. I'm werry bashful?yes. I am? 'Twouid save me lots of trouble, To go to bed a single man. And vake up as a double. TIME. Time was, is past; thou canst not it recall; I ime is, thou hast; employ the portion small ; Time future is not; and may never be; Time present is the only time for thee. From the Casket. WILLIAM WOODS WORTH, THE STATESMAN. (IN NINE PARTS.) By the Author of " The Exile's Grove," *' The Retrospect," " Sketches." 8tc., See. PAHT I. THE MARRIAtfE. Candida perpetuo reside, concordia, lecto, Tampque, pari semper sit Venus a>i;ua jugo. Diligit ipsa strt>cm quondam; sed et ilia marito, Tun? tiuojue cum fucrit, nou videatur anus. * [ Martial. Their nuptial couch tnay smiling concord dress, And Venus still the happy union bless! Wrinkled with ag-*, miy mutihl lo?e and truth To their dim eyes recall the bloom of youth. They stood at the altar?both just ver ging from youth to a more mature age? both equally interesting?he handsome and intelligent, she beautiful and accom plished. They had long Known, admired and loved each other; but owing to their peculiar and almost distressing situations, they had postponed their marriage until this period. Charles Clifford, when he first loved the gentle Maria, was a student of law. dependent upon his own merits and exertions lor support and patronage; and Maria was a portionless orphan, de pendent upon the cold charity of distant relatives, though once the idol of wealthy and indulgent parents. But Charles, now established in the practice of his profes sion, gaining a moderate salary, and rapid ly increasing in popularity, was now so happy as to ho able to lead his long be trothed Maria to the altar. And now there they stood, their countenances beaming with love and happiness, and their hearts filled with hope. They con sidered their worst cares and sorrows as hei* g brought to an end, and nought was in expectance for them but love and enjoy ment. Their horizon of existence was unclouded; the sea upon which they had launched was serene; and they "Fondly deemed each wind and star a friend." Happy pair! tiny your bright hopes of happiness and your flattering dreams of love, meet with a hanny realization : atid mav your barks gnid ? smoothly on over life's varied waves, until they safelyenter their Fina' Port ! PART If. THE VOYAGE. To ft;el a fond hop*, when we sever. Absence cannot affection chill. And we may meet more dear than ever. Five voars had passed. Charles and Maria were residing upon a beautiful seat, near the banks of the lovely stream which flowed within a short distance of their na tive place. They had not found marriage, as many have, a cure for love, for now after a five years' union, they loved as sincerelyitn<l devotedly aswhen first unit ed. Tiiey had as yet met with but few sorrows or misfortunes, and the purity of their lives was as yet untarnished by vice or folly. Charles had become eminent .11 his profession, and popular among his ac quaintances. He had twice occupied a seat in bis-state' i legislature, which he had tilled with talent and integrity, and was now at the period to which we refer, pre paring to visit Washington, as a delegate to Congress. It was a beautiful evening: the cares and labors of the day were being brought to a close: the sun was sinking slowly behind "The dim distant horizon:" the laborer was returning home from his work, and twilight gray was gently wind ing her solt mantle around the children of Nature, when the signal was given that the vessel, lyni? near Clifford's seat, was ready to depart. Charles proceeded to the river side, accompanied by his fond wile. He bid her a tender farewell, and jumped into .the boat, which shoved off from the shore, and commenced her voy age. Maria remained upon the bank, and gazed wistfully upon the bark, which was conveying the idol of her heart away, until the last vestige of it had receded from her sight; and then, with a sigh, sir returned to her home, rendered al most desolate by the absence of her Charles, to think of him.?Love in her bosom was not the summer passion -of properity. PART III THE YOUNG ORATOR. But if force Mns? yield to such inevitable shame, As to olfend, mvselfbeinz o 'ended ; So can I give iiO reason, nor I will not, More than a lotlg'd hate. Shakspeare. Clifford took his scat in Congress. He did not immediately have an opportunity of entering into discussion, or of making himself known as a speaker, or a man of any extraordinary powers.?But learning, alter he had taken his seat, that in a few days a question of a most exciting nature, and of vital importance to the interest of his country, would be brought before the house for discussion, he determined to make his first attempt at establishing him self in the eyes of the community, as a statesman and a patriot, by showing his zeal, and exerting his powers upon the subject. The morning arrived when the ques tion was to be discussed, and when Clif ford, for the first time, was to occupy the floor of Congress as a speaker. People began to gather early, and soon the house was crowded to overflowing. The ho r approached for the commencement of the debate. Charles' opponent, Mr. William Woodswortli, spoke first. He was a man of high order of intellect, and a cultivat ed mind. Originally, he possessed noble principles, and many virtuous qualitits, but being thrown when young among as sociates "of the most licentious ant un principled stamp, he had become entire ly changed?and instead of virtue and honor, his heart was filled with, and his actions governed by, envy, revenge, and a host of other vicious qualities and pas sions. He was one of those curses to society, and that libel upon humanity, called the duellist. And he was one, who though stained with the blood of several of his fellow men, and ^'j'lty of many other crimes which would have u.2stcd forever the prospects of those in a more huinb'e sphere, was fawned upon in the higher circles of society, and was the re presentative in Congress of one of the moat popular districts in his native state. After Woodswortli had concluded, Clif ford arose. The eyes of many of the wisest and greatest of this country, as well as of Europe, were fixed upon the young orator. It was his first effort in the house, and he was almost abashed. With a low and quivering voice, and trembling frame, he commenced. The crowd moved nearer to catch his words, to which i hey listened with deep, intense interest. The orator became encouraged. His voice grew more and more elevated; his manner was no longer confused; and his eyes sparkled with feeling. He en tered into a clear elucidation of the ques tion, showed its importance, and the goor or injury that would result from its deci sion. He then reviewed the argument set forth by Woodswortli, and ably proved that Woodswortli gave unten ible asser tiousfor proofs, irreconcileuble contradic tions, and broken metaphors for sublim illustrations. Abruptness, irrelevance and incongruity, swept Woodswortli thoughts from the memory down to th gulf of confusion, and thence theydashei' rapidly through the auditory's minds, an no more left a tracc or impression, tlia ? the clear water does on the chrystal vas - out of which it is poured. Clifford's idea were clothed in eleg.int diction, and th flowing harmony of his language, ov?1 which lofiy sentiments shed a lambet ? and spirkluig beauty, was as free as th vernal breeze. Woodsworth rolled his. sentences in a rushing torrent, whose sound, like the roar of the pealing thun der, nlarmed (he heart and grated the ear, but Clifford in that melody?murmuring stream, which modulates the " music of thought." True eloquence is a gift which education or study cannot bestow, as, like the "holy fire of poetry," ils ethereal flame of inspiration must he caught from the lightnings of heaven, and its solar pathway must be only, pursued by the soaring eagles of genius. Woodsworth again occupied the floor; but his speech was an entire failure, and the question was lost. He had anticipated an easy victory over "the inexperienced youth," as he was pleased to call Charles, believing him to be otie of but ordinary' capacity, and knowing that he had but few opportunities of establishing an in flu ence in the house. He was much inte rested personally in the decision of this question, and when he lost it, he lost other and more important concerns. He dis covered that Clifford was his equal, il not superior, in point of intellect, and was gaining considerable popularity, and ma ny strong friends, and would therefore be a rival not to be despised. . < That Clifford 1 have this day marked out for my prey,' muttered Woodsworth, as he walked to his room after the discus sion. 'If he be suffered to pursue his pre sent course,I see how it will end: /will be the loser, he the gainer?he will supplant me. But it shall not be?he and I are op- j posed in all our views and principles?we I understand and note each other?yes, 1 saw detestation in his every glance .?he has even dared to thwart some of my grandest schemes, and as i live he shall repent it.' But weeks and days passed away with out Woodsworth finding an opportunity1 of provoking Clifford to a rupture. In the meantime the latter was gaming influence' and popularity, and the formers' malig nant mendacity and bloated conceit and malice were becoming almost ungoverna ble. PAKT IV. the toast. One bumper ? ? ? I -t^oush many Have ??ircled the board since we met, The fullest, the saddest of any Remains to be crowned by us yet. Moore. It was the anniversary night of some great event connected with our country's history, that a splendid fete was given at the President's House, to which the prin cipal members of both houses of Congress, and many foreigners of rank, were invit ed. There was the dark Spaniard, with fiery eyes and curling mustacheos?the sedate German,?the gay I' reuchmaii?? the witty Irishman?and the enthusiastic Italian. And Indies, too, were there,~ those most celebrated for wit, beauty and accomplishments. The splendid apart ments were lighted np with brilliancy ; conversations of the most entertaining charater were entered into ; waltzing and other kinds of dancing were executed by elegant and fairy figures to perfection; the grandest, softest music was breathed around, and luxurious refreshments were profusely distributed among the com pany. After having partaken of an elegant supper, which consisted of viands as de licate and various as any Apicious could wish for, and as ample and luxurious as ever smoked on the table ol aPlato. Xeuo plion, or a Socrates, when celebrating the Dalian Festivals, manyof the gentlemen I retired into an adjoining apartment to jdrin'r, converse, and entertain themselves I ,ui Clitfr"! ?ud Woodsworth were iimonff the number. The limped tonn ? ? Df mf>r,;d gratification played, the of anecdote sparkled, niifl cast *10 gaiety of the scene, the vivid scintillations of harmony. Every mind emitted the rays of cheerfulness?every brow was smooth, and every heart was a censer ef fusing the effervescence of hilarity. The glasses went round and round, and toast alter toast was drank. At length Woods worth was called upon for a toast. Long wishing, as was before said, to come to open hostilities with Clifford, and being now excited by wine, he determined to effefct that object, no matter how unrea sonably he went about it. The glasses were again filled. < Here,' said Woodsworth, ' is a toast, which no one present, it he be a gentle man or patriot, will refuse to drink.' Saying this he gave one, eulogising certain principles and measures to which lie was certain Charles was opposed. All save Clifford drank the toast, lor though some were as violently opposed to it as himself, none had tho courage to brave the ill will of the duelist. 'One glass is still full,'remarked Woods worth, glancing at his enemy, who return ed an unquailiug look a* he answered? 4 Yes, and it shall remain full; for I will never be awed by you to contaminate my lips by the drinking of that toast.' ' 'As you will, sir,' replied Woodsworth, ill a rave, ' but I will not dastardly take back what 1 once observed, but will re peat it. that 110 gentleman or patriot would refuse to drink my toast; so it'you are either, 1 would advise you to empty your glass.' ? 1 will,' said Charles, at the same time throwing the contents of his glass into the face of the duelist. PART V. the challenge. Behold (he bh>e!>ng duelist! What angnish f,u a ni? eye! A combination of evil passions tlMitfur e tiis aspect, and the phreri/:/ of dc-pair fills hi J brain, and drops fire into his heart. U. Pepper. Charles Clifford was in his room alone . During-the whole night he had not slept, and the morning's dawn found him stil I walking to and fro in his apartment, with t a hurried step and an agitated couute- ? nance. 'I was precipitate?rash, perhaps?bu't his words were insulting and not to b< : borne; and had I not resented them. ] ( would have been ruined. But the affaij ? is not yet concluded. Woodsworth isno; t one to bear such an affront as 1 gave him. . No; I see how it will end. It will end with death /' A knock was heard at the door. Clif- ? ford opened it- and a whiskered and per . fumed little I* renchman. with many bow? i and scrapps, entered the room. ' Monsieur Clifford. 1 presume?'said th< j Frenchman, half inquiringly. ' Yes, sir, that is my name,'said Charles rather contemptuously. ' Yo'i are, I suppose,Monsieur, the sam? i gentleman who had a few unpleasan t words last evening, with my friend, Mod . sier Woodsworth'/' ' I'lie same. Have you any more que.* tions to ask?' 'Why?hem?I believe not; but?bt n if you have a fri?friend, Monsieur,. I would be happy to enter into an honorab If adjustment of this unpleasant dif? dif fi culty,' said the Frenchman, very mm ;| embarrassed. 4 You can have tke happiness of hot. o rably adjusting this unpleasant di. fji culty, if yon will call at the house of C ol onel Clinton, whom I have authorized u act as my friend. So good morning.' si lie Charles, at the same time opening tin door, and politely bowing the Frenchn uu into the street. 1 The Frenchman posted off to Coir -n<: |Clinton's room. He was 'at home,' < un an interview took place between the st conds, the result of which was that a ( hie between Clifford and Woodsworth we s ti ensue early the next morning. PART vr. THE LETTER. As waters slugs a distant star. We woo some light from Heaven afar, I And, imaged in our soul, we dream The wave that yawns arrests the beam; Hushed in e fa)?e content, we stray. And glide, perchance, to gloom away. [ But 1 rer. 'T was noonday. Charles' wife and child were sitting together in the ponfico of their home. She had just received a letter from her husband, in which fie spoke joyfully of his success and popular ity in the Capitol, of the numerous friends he had obtained; was warm in the profes sions of his unfaltering esteem and l ive jand appointed a day for his return home.' (The fond wife's eyes glistened with satis' l faction; a joyful smile illumined Iter lovely features, and she was happy?-happy in the expectation of shortly 'seeing iiim whom she loved, with all tin* fondness strength, and devotion of a woman's jove! A woman 'I >ves,and loves forever.' Her a flection springs from the breast, unini yoked by the wand of hope; unadulterated uy the toucu of interest. Woman's love is a limpid and lovely flow 6f feeling, which pushes from the fountain-ht-ad o I purity, and courses tlje heart, througl Jsoid.'d passion, nnmingliug aud unsu.'.'.ied I How much happiness was in store fo j Maria! Her Charles would soon cltee. [and make happy her home and domesti. duties; again would they stray toaethe over their familiar walks, through wood groves, and by murmuring streams. Oli ye brilliant hopes of wife! Why are y. so deceitful? Why do ye blooru tun flourish, only to fade away? part vii . THK DUEL. " IMioId that weak, deluded man, Pcssed on by vengeance dire, With rage Pnkindlimr it! his brwujt, An eye of rolling lfr? bwift to false honor** field |,e flies; . His valor to ril*play. To meet hi* ntice tov'd bosom friend. In horrid murd'rou' fray." Morning dawned. Charles rose early, and was soon with his second pn the fatal ground. His opponent Hot then ap pearing, he had leisure for reflection, which ie unproved. He considered the proba ble consequences of the unreasonable step lie had taken ; murder would most pro bably be the result. He knew Woods worths implacable hatred toward htm which now held the place of love; and was confident he would not be satisfied unti l either the one or the other leII. I Wo. xls worth fell, and by his band, \ futu re lite would become embitter*id. woi ild return to his innocent home a fnu rlerer, and would not on y ? Ul ? hin iself an eternal odium, but heap U gra ce upon all the innocent objects of hi* am iction. And on the other hand, if Ac (ell ?which was most likely?Ins wile and ch; ildren would be left unguarded, unpro tec led m the wide world, and Ins own br illianf, long cherished hopes of fame an d happiness, would beat once dispelled:. Ai id oh ! while these painful reflections c. ossed his mind, how bitterly did he re ' n< Jilt his folly in thus placing himself in th e duelist's power. But he had advanced to o far to retreat, according to the world s d1 ^lusiw idea of honor. Woods worth and his second appeared 01 i the ground. Salutations and other ' c< iremonres having passed between the s< sconds. the combatants were placed at tl leir stations. Their arms, which weie tr . send the death-dealing bullets, were p repored and given to them. They were r< iady. The "sun which had risen with u nusmil brilliancy and splendor, now hid h imself behind a dark, portentous cloud, : if to shun the sight of the approaching, di sgraceful deed. The words were gi yen : one?two?three?fiie. ') he \ is to Is were discharged. ( . , ' I have done his work for him, in a 1 "i i a ted tone, Woodsworth remarked. ~ For n moment neither stirred : present ly a shudder seemed to pass through the fr; une of Clifford, he tiembled, tottered, an d turning a last fond look toward his jji; itant home, he fell to the ground a bk 'Oily corpse. part VIII. THE MANIAC. I i)is traeted ! En phrenzy ? H,*r '.pason.,r>0 vv'e*!k r To withstand such a conflict ot passion ann f'*ar ; 1 Ab anrion'd its ihrone-o'er her once blooming Cai d? the pale hue of Death?with a loud piercing . ? nrkk , . She swoon'd in convulsive despair ! ^ # And mw, o'er the scenes of her childhood, forsak 1 fj fir All pleasures and mirth, she a !n'nia'' gi^s ; A vuwnfcrer wretched, ot gnef deeply partaking, > While in t.-ars of deep sorrow, her heart, as il 1 breaking, a Unbosems its keenly felt woes. 13 From a M. 8 Poem. ^ " It was ovetiing: a fine, balmy, evening, . and the one upon which Clifford was to , have returned home. Not far from his mansion,seated upon a moss-covered rock, near iho river side, sat the fond Maria, il having her son playing beside her, 0 crazin ^ oil the great luminary sinking to repose" in his sky-curtain d couch, and umsimr on past d,?lights. She preferred the soft serene, and silent hour ot the set ting sun when the clustering clouds are painted in variegated tints hy the fare well smile of the glorious luminary, as it was there I hat she and Charles used to ruminate, w. Hi mmged sensations of joy, on scenes con. recollection and endeared by a& 'sociation At such an h. ">ur of holy repose, when the last rays of , 'gj'< die away, when the sun lakes ofl' his fi'^ydiudem and depo sit, it in a casket , "? clouds ; and when the .la,Id stars t <ance through tether the remembrance ot him she oved-of f . i t It* upon the sensi times forever past! sto ' . .. , ... f , r , i? i i strain of native oihty of her soul, like, . ~ ? ? . on the ear of a music m a strange clime, disconsolate exile. , u Maria and her child were x ,l ' .**" tently for a view of the vesse w c , a\ to restore tothemtheirabi senth u,s?^ I father. At length the boy raised 1 s hands and joyfully exclaii ned ' See, dear mother, see, tl ?e vessel c tin ., and father will soon be hei e.' The vessel neared, and a pprc ?ached tne shore. Maria stood upon tl ie hi ink, wait ing with glistening eye an d I heart, the landing of her beloved Charles . but he came not. At length sc. >me one ljumped on shore: her heart beat q?lCK. but it was only a boatman, lie d> five^ her a letter: it bore a black seal ? , hastily tore it open and commence - ing. It told her all. She read to ?without discovering any agitatioi , that a deadly paleness overspmu her face?but when she had fiuishe ,, letter dropped from her hands, uttering a shriek, she fell to the ear ^ ^ few hours restored her to life, b reason : \[)e jron had entered lier s 0111 ; and hid fair 0re long to do its work. .Sire becarliea maniac, and tor days and nigi'u? wandered to and fret alrmt the neighbor hood, an object of giV.*1' am' P'ty* ^ll1 this did not last long; she was soon mis-1 sinjT. nnd though ~diligent searcfl W1,s! made, no "trace ofherconld he dis^"ovepefl/ When last seen, she was straying ' the river, and had most likely perished in iws waves. PART IX. THE REFORMED MAN. Ml sctHer soft'ning. sober evening takes H r w.tfitpd fialion in "he middle air, A lltotund shadows al her back. Thornton. The flight was calm, bright and love ly. The moou and the stars, from their j golden orb*, were pouring a soft, mou. and mellowing inl^ence ?ver *' e"r,'7 objects. Nature appea. Pt* !!.' fr 8W?' " est, purest garb, and seemea ..M ? jfuch a meiit of heavenly repose. It wh- ' ? >ri litw when imagination choses to pit., her wings nnd soar ethereal height*, antl whim die heart is most devoid ctf eartflt and its vicps, and most open to the wjrrrnt feelings of love,?or to religion* derotiw and heavenly aspirations. At this howur was to bo seen wending his way from the suburb* of the capitol, a solitary imo4i, whose infirm step, pale countenance and agitated deportment, at onre spoke h>? sorrowful situation :? he wits an invalid, an I a miserable, unhappy man. One whose whole life had been spent in dissi pation and vice, and whose memory d*w??h: upon few "green spots" mi the dreary waste he had traversed. He wat* ju?f re covering from a severe sickness, difn ing which, his mind had dwelt upon his. crimes and the misery which they had caused; remorse had taken firm hold of his heart. He had been at the very verge of death, and the prospect assumed a more terrifying aspect than he comdiiave imagined. He was now taking a moon light ramble, and indulging in reflection. He proceeded toward a grave-yard; where arriving he-sat himself down, and indadg ed in thought. He wan disturbed^ from his reverie by appronetiing footsteps :: on looking np he perceived a womuir-wtiwse dishevelled locks, wild, unmeaning- eyes, and gestures and actions bespoke a ruined intellect. She was leading a boy, lovely and beautiful, by the hand. They passed without noticing him, and ap proached a grave. It was the grave of one who had lately fallen a victim-to our night rambler. Upon approaching tfic grave the woman no longer continued tier emotions, bill broke forth in a paro xyisin of weeping and bewailing truly frightful. At this momenta solt and hea venly strain of rams iff, from, the harp of some nocturna-l minstrel' was* warned to the ears of those in the silent grave-yard. Who has not felt the magic of music at moonlight? The woman ceased her ru-. vings, seated herself with her boy upon the grave of her murdered husband, and became absolved in thought! And how felt the wretched spectator at this solemn hour* in that melancholy place 1' " Yes, how frit- the wretched man, Reclining there?while memory ran OVr many a year of guilt and strife, Flew o'er the dark floo- of hi* life, Nor found one .?unn% resting place. Nor brought flirn back one branch of grace !'* The romanticscene?the grave-yard? the widow wife and her orphan, seated beside the grave of their husband, fath er?that husband and father, too, slain by him ; and. soft, each inting music, opera ted upon him as nothing had ever done before, "Be hung hii head?each nobler ain>t And hope, and feeling, which had From boyhoods hour, that instant came Fresh o'er him aed he wept! he wept!" His heart melted beneath the sweet, magic influence around fiim, and in that William Woods worth felt his eyes bedew ed with the ?' Blest tear.i of soul felt pecitetice," and he knelt?and over the grave of him' he murdered, and by the side of those whose hope and huppinesshe had wreck ed, he lifted his blood-stained soul to mer ciful heaven in fervent, penitential pray er! The duelist rose from his knees an altered man. He spoke to the lady ; con fessed who he was ; and humhty entreat ed her forgiveness. No answerwas return ed. Alas! her-tongue was ever si'etit! She had attained her last wish,?she had* seen and pressed her Hps upon the of her Charles. The 'golden bowl1 #a? broken,' the 'silver cord loosened1,? Ar ^ the soul of Maria had winged its' beyond earth, pain and sorrow^ Wi/j became a father to the son of the d' vot'2(! couple whom he had destroyed-? j"|'rv ed him up in the ohtertraur^ mjd of those virtues whtch'aloue caQ ^ life's rugged path, ?';id swee(e|1 ^ existence I r A Mother's Love.? The force of a mo ther's love was strikingly displayed at th? late destructive fire in Georgetown, I). (. Amidst the raging of the devourinc ele I ment, (lie dense smoke, and the falling of | btaziug timbers, a poor woman was seen, i with arms extended, apparently forgetting everything else, Hying in every direction, crying *'wherc is myGeorgeWashington?" At length the little wanderer was heard to exclaim, 'Miere I am mother!"?a fine little fellow,, n bo tit foiw years old. The father of the prodigal was not moore re Weed to full on the neck of his son, than was i.^'s P04* womu,K bless the boy, this name wns etK1ll^h to save him Many families have owed their prosper ity full as much to the propriety of female management as to the knowledge and ac tivity of the father.